Dramaturging While Feminist
I was recently asked by a writer to review his script. He had received some feedback that the story felt sexist, and he wanted me to read it and give him pointers on how to remedy that issue.
Now, most of the time when I read a new play or musical, my feminist hat is on along with my dramaturg hat. And often my sense is that a significant reason I’ve been hired as a director of a new piece is to bring a feminist perspective to the story and the production. So, it was a not-uncomfortable job I was tasked with, and the writer and I had a productive session on the script.
In the era of #metoo, a lot of us are grappling with how to feel about pieces of art that we love(d) that were created by men whose behavior we no longer find acceptable or excuseable.
But I also find myself grappling with the dramaturgy of pieces that I love(d) that now strike me as NOT OKAY.
My favorite musical is A Chorus Line. I’ve seen it a dozen times at least. If you watch a musical I’ve directed, you will also see echoes of Michael Bennett’s staging of A Chorus Line, because it so fully shaped what I love about theater.
Recently, I saw a portion of the video of the record-breaking performance when A Chorus Line became the longest running Broadway musical in history. It was the extraordinary Kelly Bishop as Sheila, doing the dialogue before “At the Ballet” and the beginning of the song. And I was so uncomfortable watching this disembodied, voice-of-God (Zack) push her to reveal parts of herself she clearly did not want to reveal. The woman came to an audition, for goodness sake! She wants a job. She shouldn’t have to reveal intimate details of her childhood and parents’ personal life to get that job. (And, spoiler alert, after revealing herself under duress, she does not, in fact, get the job! Yuck!)
I suddenly reflected back on all those stories where an edgy, defensive woman is forced to let her guard down by a man, and it’s portrayed as being for her own good! I would never have let such a thing slide when reading the writer’s musical! I would have pointed out the story beat as problematic and made sure that if he kept it, the confrontation was answered somehow in a way that addressed the lack of true consent on the part of the woman.
I was chatting with my musical theater nerd husband about Pajama Game, a show I was in when I was in 8th grade. I played Brenda, one of the workers at the pajama factory. We were talking about the score (which is SO GOOD), and then my husband mentioned how sexist the show is. Like, there’s that joke about sexual assault during the company picnic. And this punchline, in fact, is Brenda’s line, so I remember it (I’m pretty sure, 30 years later). The salesman takes her for a walk, and a little while later, she comes back onto the stage and says to one of the other women, “Stay out in the open, honey, don’t go down in them woods.”
And I had always agreed with him, feeling like, man, you can’t do Pajama Game anymore. It’s too bad, because the score is so good. But as I recited the line out loud to him, I suddenly heard it in a completely different way. Brenda clearly got away from the predatory salesman. And she’s protecting her fellow women from predatory men by telling them, in the way that she’s able, what happened to her. None of these women will go anywhere with the salesman now, that’s for sure. It’s a major contrast to the real life non-disclosure agreements that women have been forced to sign, preventing them from protecting others from suffering the way they suffered.
If someone hired me to direct Pajama Game, I’d have Brenda come out of the woods shaking her sore hand, and then have her grab a cold beer bottle and hold it against her sore knuckles, which she just used to punch the salesman in the face to get away from him. And I would definitely make sure the line didn’t get a laugh.
Can I still love A Chorus Line? Not because society is telling me I can’t, but because I see the world differently now. God, I hope we get it...