Hi, I just got home from Tuesday night's performance. The three acts came off more or less as Xita described in her post. At the beginning of the play, the director came out and explained that an actor was running late (and I thought nothing of it because I've yet to attend a Blank Theatre production that started on time, lol). Acts One, Two and Three unfolded. The theatre was about half full, I think. And the audience was somewhat quiet...but maybe that's me.
As it happened, the woman who "played doctor" on Tuesday night was sitting with, I believe, the actor who played Warren on BTVS. And, like me, those around could hear them chatting about acting, etc. When she jumped up to offer assistance, I think everyone near me pretty much assumed she was part of the show. But who cares about that, on with the discussion....
I really liked the play and the production. It reminded me of the "theatre of the absurd," a kind of twentieth century theatre in which characters move about in a world that is unfriendly, meaningless, irrational, disorienting, in short, absurd. The conventions of the theatre are overturned or disregarded all together. Character, dialogue, and logic become confusing, dreamlike, an imitation of a reality. We see a reality that is without foundation. The lynchpins by which we understand and know the world are missing. We are, in a sense, at sea.
Building off of Xita's description of the acts...it seemed to me that in Act One most of the conventions of the theatre are in place--or are they? There are three characters; they dialogue with one another--like in any well made play, but as the act continues we learn that Albert, the ostensible protagonist, is mentally ill. Moreover, we see the other characters, his mother and doctor, begin to behave in increasingly irrational ways. Albert's only "comfort" is the audience. They "see" and "understand" him in ways his mother and doctor do not.
Mothers and doctors can offer you no help, and when you decide to leave this plane of existence, as it were, the voice that calls you isn't God, it's some unknown man who is telling you to go to the lobby. For Albert, all the world's been a stage, and he has simply exited stage center.
In Act Two, stereotypes of women, Jews, Latino men, class differences, the aged and so forth are juxtaposed with references to religious and cultural responses to death. The audience, Albert's only friend, is made uncomfortable. Act Two is a flashback to Albert's boyhood. We see how everyone around him behaves: largely without regard for anyone else. The only "caring" relationship is between Albert's sexy stepmom and his ghost of a dead father. However, we also are told that Jews don't believe in ghosts, ghosts don't exist--and we are shown that the relationship between the stepmom and Albert's father is basically a sexual one. Sexuality, family, etc are ugly things, and so is life and aging and the relations between people. Again, we are at sea.
Act One marks the end of Albert's "life" or possibly its beginning--who knows what will happen in the lobby. Act Two marks the end of Albert's father's life. Life would appear to be meaningless and cruel. The cycle is without end. Poor Albert was doomed from the start.
Act Three is disorienting and scary. The few theatrical conventions of Act One are abandoned and twisted beyond repair. At the end of Act One, Albert exits through the audience. At the end of Act Three, an audience member enters the stage--good luck to her. She'd have been safer if she'd stayed in her seat. And, the kicker is, of course, she enters the stage--becomes a part of the play--to give someone aid. Irony is kind of ironic that way.
In Act Three we learn that the playwright cannot control the play.
Mr. Sadface, the clown clearly needs mental help, but we already know from Act One that mental help will get you no where--or more precisely it will get you a doctor who plays giddy-up with your mom. Also, the audience, which was Albert's confidant, is now in Mr. Sadface's estimation filled with industry types ready to offer judgement.
Mr. Sadface has this compulsion which he cannot control and which is actually controlling him. He breaks all manner of social and theatrical conventions and then he dies--and, once again, irony is kind of ironic that way, there's someone out there that can be called on to take your place. Albert returns as Mr. Sadface. But the thin foundation of the play has dissolved entirely and the play ends abruptly and in chaos. We are drowning.
Life is chaotic, disorienting, troubling, without hope or meaning and then you die. And your death kills the show. Sorry, this is turning into quite the babble fest. One last point, in the end, there is this weird kind of hope. The playwright is freaking out, the audience is confused, and at some point the actors call for the playwright's mother. The wall between the theatre and reality has completely given way and now calls for real comfort can be made. Of course the curtain falls before we can know for sure...
Okay, I had a long drive home and probably too much time to think about it, but I thought the play was quite good. Yes, parts were uneven and some of the dialogue fell a bit flat--but WOW--Amber Benson is way smart, in my opinion. In the past year, I think I've seen three or four new plays of this genre and I would say Albert Hall was by far the best. I didn't wait around to try to chat with Amber, because I am far too shy and it takes me a while to organize my thoughts, and so I am speaking entirely out of turn here. But, hey, I liked the play.
Technopagan
Edited by: technopagan78 at: 11/27/02 11:22:03 am