Theatre  in  England  2013   Graduate  Student  Composite  Journal       Alison  Harper  is  a  second  year  student  in  the  English  PhD  program  at  the  University   of  Rochester.    Her  research  focuses  on  medieval  literature,  with  specific  interests  in   manuscript  study,  adaptation  in  the  afterlife  of  texts  and  late  medieval  reading   practices.     Kyle  Huskin  is  a  second  year  student  in  the  English  PhD  program  at  the  University  of   Rochester.    Her  research  focuses  on  medieval  literature,  with  specific  interests  in   the  relationships  between  vernacular  and  scholastic  literature,  the  formal  structures   of  texts,  the  means  of  text  production  and  consumption,  and  reading  practices  of  lay   readers.     Scott  O’Neil  is  a  third  year  student  in  the  English  PhD  program  at  the  University  of   Rochester.    His  research  focuses  on  Renaissance  literature,  with  specific  interests  in   dramatic  texts,  Shakespeare,  and  humanist  pedagogy. 12/29/2012:  The  Magistrate  at  The  National  Theatre   Alison  Harper   The  National  Theatre,  2:00,  The  Magistrate       Arthur  Wing  Pinero's  1885  play  The  Magistrate  is  an  extremely  entertaining   farce  and  was  amusingly  witty  on  the  page  before  I  saw  it  in  performance.  The   production  at  the  National  Theatre  added  some  interesting  elements  and  was  also   greatly  improved  by  the  fine  acting,  particularly  the  choices  of  gesture  and   movement  the  actors  made  to  bring  the  play  to  life.  The  staging  also  seemed   especially  dynamic,  and  I  think  all  the  audience  was  struck  with  the  appearance  of   the  set  upon  entering  the  theatre.  I  spent  some  time  trying  to  analyze  exactly  what   was  meant  by  the  opening,  which  consisted  of  concentric  circles  pushing  outwards   towards  the  audience,  as  if  we  were  looking  sideways  upon  a  tiered  cake.  The   structure  itself  seemed  to  represent  London,  as  the  edges  of  the  circles  were  cut  in   the  shape  of  the  city  skyline,  with  a  much  rougher  version  on  the  back  of  the  set   behind.  The  whole  thing  was  lit  and  gave  a  pleasant,  light-­‐hearted  impression  with   the  addition  of  a  red  bow  and  a  gift  tag  attached  reading  'The  Magistrate'.  The  bow   possibly  reflected  the  Christmas  season;  another  indication  was  the  Christmas  tree   in  the  drawing  room,  which  was  not  in  the  original  stage  instructions.  The  cake-­‐like   structure  of  the  city  appeared  in  this  respect  as  some  kind  of  Christmas  present,   presumably  for  the  character  of  the  Magistrate.  The  'gift'  of  a  night  out  at  a   disreputable  hotel  is  an  ambiguous  one:  he  does  ultimately  gain  more  insight  into his  marriage  and  a  more  peaceful  family  unit  (with  Cis  leaving  for  Canada).  But  the   more  immediate  consequences  of  the  gift  are  much  more  distressing,  and  his  new   experiences  of  London  mostly  involve  being  chased  through  its  streets  by  angry   policemen.         When  the  play  got  underway,  the  staging  intriguingly  shifted  as  the  opening   part  rose  into  the  ceiling,  and  the  back  part  came  forward.  It  presented  us  with   another  set  of  concentric  circles,  this  time  shaped  like  an  enormous  eye,  with  a  black   pupil  in  the  middle.  The  importance  of  the  eye  as  symbolizing  the  inevitable   exposure  of  secrets  is  made  clear  in  the  song  that  was  sung  before  the  first  scene,   about  the  difficulty  of  keeping  anything  secret,  even  that  which  was  kept  ‘behind   closed  doors’.  When  this  part  of  staging  came  forward  on  the  set,  it  folded  down  to   reveal  an  elegant  drawing  room.  This  fascinating  mechanism  folded  up  and  down  a   few  times  in  the  course  of  the  play,  and  retreated  at  the  end  of  the  first  scene,  to   allow  another  set  to  rise  from  the  floor,  and  show  the  set  of  the  hotel.  I  doubt  this   added  substantially  to  the  audience’s  understanding  of  the  play,  but  it  definitely   factored  into  our  appreciation  –  several  people  afterwards  commented  on  the   ingenuity  of  the  set  changes.  I’ve  been  lucky  enough  to  see  many  productions  at  the   National  Theatre  over  the  years,  and  even  when  there  was  nothing  else  remarkable   about  the  plays,  the  staging  is  always  fantastic.  Another  feature  in  The  Magistrate   was  the  way  the  set  in  each  scene  included  writing  on  the  wall,  as  describing  steps  in   the  progression  of  the  plot.  The  first  read  'the  family  skeleton'  (1st  scene,  the   drawing  room),  the  second  'it  leaves  its  cupboard'  (2nd  scene,  hotel  room),  'the   skeleton  rattles'  (3rd  scene,  the  magistrate's  office),  'it  crumbles'  (4th  scene,  the drawing  room  again  -­‐  and  the  legend  'it  crumbles'  is  written  over  the  original  'the   family  skeleton').  I'm  not  entirely  sure  what  the  point  was,  but  I  liked  the  way  it   made  Mrs  Posket's  secret  appear  like  something  dark  and  terrible  out  of  a  Gothic   novel.  It  was  entirely  in  keeping  with  the  rest  of  the  play,  which  was  full  of   exaggerated,  enthusiastic  and  overtly  theatrical  ideas  and  behaviours  (such  as  the   necessity  of  obeying  the  wishes  of  a  woman,  even  at  the  expense  of  a  male  friend’s   life).  A  final  note  on  the  staging  is  that  all  the  doors  and  windows  in  the  hotel  room   and  magistrate's  office  appear  to  have  been  slanted  at  a  very  odd  angle.  This   suggested  instability,  perhaps,  or  the  skewed  perspective  through  which  the   characters  were  viewing  themselves  and  their  situations  (according  to  the  lie  of  Mrs   Poskett,  Mr  Poskett's  too-­‐rigorous  application  towards  his  duty,  the  bizarre  overly   conscientious  chivalry  of  Colonel  Lukyn,  etc).       With  respect  to  the  actors,  two  of  the  best  were  John  Lithgow  as  the   Magistrate  and  Joshua  McGuire  as  Cis  Farringdon.  Both  appeared  to  be  extremely   physical  actors  and  were  constantly  using  body  language  and  the  space  of  the  stage   to  make  their  roles  more  dynamic.  Cis  was  especially  thrilling  in  the  first  scene,   where  he  is  consistently  sexually  aggressive  towards  Beatie,  lounging  towards  her   on  the  sofa  and  sprawling  against  the  door  to  prevent  her  escape.  His  acting  is  all   predatory  here,  and  the  fact  that  we  know  he  is  3  years  older  than  her  makes  this   slightly  uncomfortable  to  watch.  However,  the  fact  that  neither  of  them  know  it,  that   she  clearly  welcomes  the  attentions,  and  that  he  is  hilariously  short  and  un-­‐ intimidating  in  his  Eton  jacket,  makes  it  incredibly  funny,  even  more  so  for  the   nagging  feeling  that  you  shouldn't  be  laughing  at  it.  Cis'  behaviour  throughout  the play  was  intriguing  for  how  it  could  be  read  as  both  childish  enthusiasm  and  a   young  dandy's  carelessness,  with  his  activity  in  running  everywhere,  jumping  over   sofas  and  pulling  people  around  with  him.  From  moment  to  moment,  it  was  easy  to   see  him  as  either  a  child  or  an  adult,  depending  on  your  perspective.  John  Lithgow   was  the  darling  of  the  audience,  though,  being  incredibly  sympathetic  in  his   frustrated,  confused  inability  to  make  any  effective  decisions  himself.  This  is   accomplished  mainly  through  the  wonderful  variety  of  faces  he  pulls  in  the   performance,  which  seemed  to  express  volubly  every  single  emotion  he   experienced,  and  as  such,  gave  the  appearance  of  absolute  truth.  This  childish   simplicity  played  very  well  against  Cis'  odd  maturity,  and  the  scenes  they  had   together  were  some  of  the  best  in  the  play.       12/30/2012:  Jack  and  the  Beanstalk  at  the  Royal  Theatre  Stratford  East   Kyle  Huskin     Jack  and  the  Beanstalk  (2012)   Directed  by  Dawn  Reid   Based  on  the  book  by  Paul  Sirett   Performed  by  the  Royal  Theatre  Stratford  East I  tend  to  think  of  children’s  plays  (and  children’s  literature,  especially   fairytales,  more  generally)  as  kinds  of  morality  plays  in  disguise,  written  to  teach   children  elementary  social  mores  as  much  as  to  entertain.  As  such,  I  tend  to  see   them  as  agents  of  socialization  just  like  any  other  –  teaching  children  what   behaviors  are  acceptable  in  society  by  showing  validation  of  their  proper   “performance”  and  disapproval  of  their  improper  “performance.”  I  realize  that  this   is  probably  not  the  most  common  approach  to  play  analysis,  and  I  will  stick  to  more   literary  approaches  in  future  entries,  but  I  find  the  work  of  sociologist  Erwin   Goffman  fascinating  for  its  intersection  of  drama  and  social  theory  within  what  is   essentially  a  symbolic  interactionist  perspective.  Especially  applicable  is  his   Presentation  of  Self  in  Everyday  Life  where  he  posits  that  daily  life  is  theatrical   performance  –  even  going  so  far  as  to  call  individuals  “actors”  –  and  that  we  try  to   present  ourselves  in  certain  ways  to  control  how  others  perceive  our  “character.”   There  is  a  strong  connection  between  Goffman’s  work  and  the  works  of  sociologists   Judith  Butler  and  Judith  Lorber,  who  see  gender  as  learned  behaviors:  children   watch  adults  performing  gender,  see  some  succeeding  and  some  failing  to  conform   to  social  expectations,  and  see  the  successful  ones  rewarded  and  the  failing  ones   punished,  thereby  learning  how  they  will  perform  their  own  genders...on  and  on  in  a   big  cycle  that  makes  changes  in  gender  roles  a  very  difficult  and  slow-­‐moving   process.  Consequently,  I  thought  today’s  performance  of  Jack  and  the  Beanstalk   strove  to  fill  just  such  a  sociological  function,  only  tailored  to  show  modern  social   expectations.  While  I  thought  the  performance  was  excellent,  I  would  take  issue   with  the  play  on  a  sociological  level  because  it  promoted  many  ideas  I  find  troubling. What  struck  me  most  from  the  very  beginning  of  the  play  was  its  almost   absolute  negation  of  moral  ambiguity.  The  decision  to  mitigate  moral  conflicts  could   be  related  to  the  audience’s  generally  young  age,  but  fairytales  are  usually  intended   for  young  audiences,  and  the  performers  made  an  effort  to  appeal  to  the  adult   audience  with  their  ribaldry.  In  an  obvious  deviation  from  the  original,  the  director   of  this  play  presented  Jack  as  an  upstanding  boy  trying  to  find  his  way  into   adulthood,  almost  entirely  abandoning  his  original  presentation  as  a  trickster-­‐hero   who  steals  the  giant’s  gold  coins,  golden  egg-­‐laying  hen,  and  self-­‐playing  harp.  The   thieving  aspect  of  his  character  is  only  broached  towards  the  end  of  the  play  when   brings  back  one  of  Henrietta’s  golden  eggs,  but  this  again  mitigates  moral  conflict   because  Jack  attains  the  golden  egg  with  Henrietta’s  permission  and  convinces  the   other  two  to  come  with  him  of  their  own  volition.  Indeed,  his  act  could  almost  be   seen  as  humanitarian,  as  he  liberates  them  from  their  subjugation,  rather  than   profit-­‐seeking,  as  the  beans  seem  to  have  magically  bestowed  wealth  and  fame  upon   their  household  immediately  after  being  planted.  Additionally,  the  play  removed  any   moral  ambiguity  from  the  two  burglars.  Although  the  redheaded  one  shows  signs  of   morality  in  his  desire  to  open  a  bed  and  breakfast,  they  generally  appear  to  embrace   evil  and  enjoy  doing  it;  they  even  change  Robin  Hood’s  trademark  phrase,  singing   instead  “we  take  from  the  poor  and  give  to  the  rich,”  to  remove  the  ambiguity  that   perhaps  they  are  helping  those  in  need.  The  most  ambiguous  aspect  of  their  nature   is  the  fact  that  they  are  working  for  the  ogre,  but  the  play  makes  it  clear  that  they   have  desired  evil  from  birth,  so  there  is  no  indication  that  they  are  forced  to  steal  to survive  and  evade  the  ogre’s  wrath;  indeed,  they  seem  a  part  of  the  ogre,  as  both  had   tattooed  arms  and  repeated  some  of  the  same  phrases.   The  play’s  apparently  black-­‐and-­‐white  approach  to  good  and  evil  made  me   consider  its  stance  on  other  issues,  particularly  gender  roles,  and  the  play  seemed  to   embrace  a  similarly  black-­‐and-­‐white,  heteronormative  understanding  of  masculinity   and  femininity  –  a  decision  that  is  understandable  for  a  play  where  much  of  the   audience  is  just  at  the  age  when  children  begin  discovering  sex  and  gender   distinctions.  This  is  not  necessarily  a  bad  thing.  Indeed,  the  characters  conform   completely  to  contemporary  gender  expectations,  and  the  play  promotes  the  idea,  in   keeping  with  Butler  and  Lorber’s  theories,  that  acting  in  accordance  to  such   expectations  leads  to  social  acceptance.  Conforming  to  modern,  more  flexible   standards  of  femininity,  Lucy  still  generally  conforms  to  expectations  of  femininity,   being  more  emotional  and  open  with  her  feelings,  but  she  can  also  assume  the   masculine-­‐gendered  role  of  detective  and  promote  self-­‐acceptance  as  strength.   Because  the  original  tale  included  no  Lucy  analogue,  it  seems  plausible  that  the   director  added  her  specifically  to  appeal  to  young  girls  who  would/could  identify   with  the  values  she  expresses.  Jack,  on  the  other  hand,  conforms  to  more  rigid   standards  of  masculinity  as  rationality,  stolidity,  and  physical  strength:  unlike  Lucy,   he  has  to  wait  until  everyone  else  is  off-­‐stage  to  express  his  emotions  and  cry,  he  has   no  friends  but  the  imaginary  Dizzy  when  he  believes  in  magic  and  does  other   “immature”  things,  and  he  has  to  defeat  the  ogre  with  physical  strength  before  being   accepted  and  cheered  on  by  the  entire  cast  praising  him  for  “being  a  man.”  Children   desire  acceptance  from  their  parents  and  peers,  and  the  play  certainly  promotes  the idea  that  conforming  to  these  roles  will  provide  them  with  such  acceptance.  I  was   reminded  of  sociologist  Michael  Kimmel’s  article,  “Masculinity  as  Homophobia,”  in   which  he  argues  that  various  agents  of  socialization  encourage  young  boys  to   conform  to  this  rigid  conception  of  masculinity  or  else  face  the  social  rejection  of   being  called  a  “sissy”  or  “baby,”  both  of  which  Jack  was  before  he  “grows  up”  and   defeats  the  ogre.  Although  showing  people  conforming  to  gender  expectations  is  not   in  itself  a  negative  aspect  of  the  play,  the  gender  roles  do  have  negative  impacts  on   individuals  –  particularly  those  like  Jack  who  might  not  be  able  to  easily  conform   without  sacrificing  a  part  of  themselves,  which  is  represented  by  his  loss  of  Dizzy  –   and  I  wish  the  play  had  done  more  to  show  the  difficulties  and  not  focused  so  much   on  the  need  for  social  acceptance.  (Lucy  does  have  a  wonderful  song  about  self-­‐ acceptance  despite  rejection,  but  the  ideas  never  really  factor  into  the  play,  and  the   play  ends  with  happy  heterosexual  relationships  and  everyone  praising  Jack’s  manly   actions.)     I  found  the  play’s  apparent  promotion  of  a  “culture  of  poverty”  troubling;   actually,  I  found  its  treatment  of  social  classes  in  general  troubling,  as  it  seemed  to   suggest  that  becoming  wealthy  leads  to  social  respectability  even  though  nothing   else  about  the  characters  has  changed  (aside  from  their  costumes).  Jack’s  mother,   Augusta  Evelina  Trott,  seemed  to  represent  a  stereotypical  welfare  mother  because   she  did  everything  those  who  oppose  welfare  accuse  people  on  welfare  of  doing:  she   plans  on  spending  her  money  on  new  frocks  and  trinkets  while  Jack  has  had  the   same,  now-­‐tattered  shirt  for  a  year,  she  plans  to  spend  a  good  amount  of  money  on   gin,  and  she  even  hints  that  she  worked  as  a  prostitute  to  make  ends  meet  when  she gets  on  her  knees  and  hesitates  before  saying  she  was  in  that  position  to  “beg.”   Although  she  remains  essentially  the  same  person  after  becoming  wealthy  –  she   writes  terrible  erotic  novels  with  no  real  understanding  of  literature  (she  tries  to   sexualize  Galahad,  quite  possibly  the  least  sexual  of  all  Arthurian  knights),  and  she   still  acts  as  bawdy  as  ever  (holding  the  golden  eggs  like  testicles,  making  sexual   jokes  with  the  landlord)  –  the  landlord  develops  respect  and  affections  for  her   because  she  is  wealthy,  even  though  just  days  before  he  threw  her  out  of  her  home   and  wouldn’t  let  her  address  him  by  the  first  name.  Similarly,  Jack  comes  out  the   morning  after  the  beanstalk  has  grown  wearing  the  same  style  of  clothes  as  the   landlord,  and  his  costume  grows  increasingly  elaborate  as  the  play  progresses  and   the  beans  work  their  magic.  Although  this  could  be  an  easy  way  to  show  their  rising   social  status,  it  seems  like  something  more  because  of  the  respect  they  gain  from   these  superficial  changes  and  the  complete  lack  of  change  they  undergo  as  people.  In   addition  to  costuming,  the  music  also  changed  immediately  after  they  planted  the   beans,  as  Jack  and  Dizzy  had  no  more  rap-­‐style  numbers,  and  Augusta  went  from   singing  drinking-­‐song-­‐like  numbers  to  more  traditional  ballad-­‐type  numbers;  this   seemed  to  reiterate  the  idea  that  there  are  stereotypical  features  of  lower-­‐class  life   that  just  get  eliminated  once  someone  becomes  wealthy  even  if  nothing  else  about   them  has  changed.     As  my  first  play  of  the  course,  I  thought  the  production  itself  was  simply   spectacular.  Although  I  could  be  totally  off-­‐base  with  this  observation,  I  thought  I   saw  many  parallels  with  the  plays  we  read  for  Medieval  Drama  last  semester.  First,   the  director  seemed  to  be  playing  with  an  idea  similar  to  the  Great  Chain  of  Being  in