Just Wrought

Recovering playwright, once won a STRANGER Genius Award for theater. Now writing a bloated novel about… G-d help me! Theatre.

Tag: one-man show

  • By the Whites of Our Eyes

    By the Whites of Our Eyes

    While reading Brian Christian’s evocative new book The Most Human Human, which manages to explore an impressively wide and variegated territory while covering the secondary contest at an annual Turing Test competition to determine which human entrant seems most human, I ran across this random fun fact:

    …. Humans are known to have the largest and most visible sclera—the “whites” of the eyes—of any species….  There must be some reason humans developed it, despite its obvious costs.  In fact, the advantage of visible sclera—so goes the “cooperative eye hypothesis”—is precisely that it enables humans to see clear, and from a distance, which directions other humans are looking….  Chimpanzees, gorillas, and bonobos—our nearest cousins—follow the direction of each other’s heads, whereas human infants follow the direction of each other’s eyes.

    All evolved traits have costs associated with them.  A peacock develops his tail to attract a peahen at great nutritive cost.  In fact, he does so as a way of signaling, “I must be really special because I can squander resources on this utterly useless and even detrimental fancy fanny fan.”  So likewise, there must have been costs to developing these large and prominent sclera of ours.  The most obvious leaping to my mind is the fact that when I can easily see what other people are looking at, they can just as easily do the same with me.  This is mutual mind-reading, plain and simple.  And we have to assume that being able to read each others’ minds was ultimately more advantageous to our forbears than permanent obfuscation.  We were stronger when we understood each other well.   We still are.

    As usual, I see implications for theatre.  A while ago I posted here an essay explaining why solo shows are not plays, and therefore not, strictly speaking, theatre.  I conceded, however, that they belong to the even older art of story-telling.  Now, based on some of the newest science available, I am no longer convinced it really is the elder form.

    Communication based on gesture, eye movement and even sympathetic neuronal patterning (more on that later when I abstract research on “mirror neurons”) may well have preceded verbal communication, which leans so heavily on semantic content.  Put more simply, our evolutionary ancestors may have been “play-acting” long before they were “story-telling”.

  • Art Picks up Journalism’s Slack Again

    I went on record a while ago saying that I will not be doing reviews here at Just Wrought.  However, in order to make a couple of larger points later, I will have to stipulate some things about Mike Daisey’s performance last night at the Seattle Rep’s production of his new one-man show, The Agony and the Ecstasy of Steve Jobs.  Here’s why:  I was pressing my way out of the theatre after the show, doing my best to spare myself and Kurt Beattie the awkwardness that always ensues when we try to casually chit-chat, when I overheard an older and obviously well-off man say to his wife, “I’ll be interested to see how his [meaning Daisey’s] performance grows after a couple weeks.  I mean, this was only just opening night after all.”

    Yeah. 

    So let’s get something straight from the start: Mike Daisey’s performance was brilliant, alternatively hilarious and harrowing; funny and furious: one moment cannily manipulative and the next heartbreakingly earnest, and it only grew more compelling as the evening progressed.  Frankly, I expected no less.  Daisey is a brilliant performer.  Full stop.  What’s more, he’s a consummate professional, meaning that he will bring that brilliance to every performance he does of this piece or any other, night after night, week after week, venue after venue.  To engage in speculation about whether Daisey’s performance will improve or decline after a couple weeks is to indulge in the worst kind of aesthetic fetishism, and worse: it lets you off the hook of the message. 

    Unfortunately, this hobbyist’s game has been getting played more and more here in Seattle.  “Hans Altwies’s performance was brilliant the other night,” says the canny theatre-goer, making plain that she not only knows Hans Altwies by name, but also understands the nuances of his work well enough to gauge when he’s brilliant and when he’s not.  Well, I got news for ya, knowing theatre-goer.  Hans Altwies is always brilliant.  Like Mike Daisey, Hans is a consummate theatre professional, and he’s going to give you the acting goods in great plays, okay plays and terrible plays alike.  What’s more, Hans is not the only brilliant actor in Seattle: we have at least a hundred world class actors in this town—way more than we can sustain with a living wage.  What we do not have in huge supply are shows that matter, right here and right now to our fellow citizens.  (Yes, I understand Of Mice and Men is moving.  But no, I do not agree that staging it yet again can make a wit’s worth of difference in most people’s lives.)   The Agony and the Ecstasy of Steve Jobs is different.  In his show Mike is telling stories that you simply cannot and will not hear anywhere else—true stories about the lives of our fellow human beings who make, by hand, the “shit”—as Mike calls it– that we consume.

    If you are reading this on a digital device (and how could you not be?) Mike provides a journalistic investigation that is as intimately connected to your life as the technology you are using right now.  He did the risky leg work that no “professional reporter” was willing to do, and he got past the corporate obfuscation that no other journalist could breech.  If you want to hear these stories in the next few weeks, the only way you can do it is to show up at a specific place, the Seattle Rep, at a specific time and listen to Mike tell them to you.  If you say to me that the Rep’s tickets are too pricey, I will listen respectfully and sympathetically, but I will counter with a question of my own: how much did your phone cost?  Was it more or less than a ticket to Mike’s show?  And how can you really assess how much it really cost, unless you find out how it was made and by whom?