By Rich Kane
By Joel Beers
By LP Hastings
By Dave Barton
By Patrice Wirth Marsters
By Erin DeWitt
By Taylor Hamby
By LP Hastings
Photo by Keith MayIn 1973, the esteemed actress Jessica Tandy complained to the equally esteemed playwright Samuel Beckett that the breakneck pace of his play Not I, in which Tandy was starring, made the play unintelligible. The writer's response? "I am not unduly concerned with intelligibility. I hope the piece may work on the nerves of the audience, not its intellect."
That's Beckett. On the page, he can be analyzed and scrutinized as far as anyone is willing to go. Onstage, he has to be felt in the gut.
"She has a real mission to try to pass on the information that Beckett gave her as a director," Boyette said. "She's one of the last living people he worked with. And she's trying to pass on his legacy, the way that he envisioned his plays should be done."
For the next two weekends, we have the chance to get as close to the mind—or mouth—of Samuel Beckett as humanly possible. Boyette stars in two of the four short Beckett plays that are part of the Grove Theater Center's (GTC) ambitious The Beckett Project.
The Beckett-Whitelaw-Boyette-GTC connection is a kind of oral history meets literary history meets avant-garde theater. The four plays—Not I, Rockaby, Act Without Words I and Ohio Impromptu—aren't laugh-a-minute crowd pleasers.
With the exception of the 1956 piece Act Without Words I, the plays in The Beckett Project came late in the playwright's career, when he was far more involved in the actual production of his pieces as a director. Long before his death in 1989, Beckett stopped writing full-length plays, focusing instead on short, fragmented works that featured utter precision of movement, strict economy of language—and a bunch of really weird shit. As one writer put it, the comic tramps of his landmark plays (Waiting for Godot and Endgame) were replaced by "ghostly shapes, only half-seen, struggling to retain a feeble hold on their sense of themselves and of the space in which they move and speak."Not I features a disembodied mouth onstage uttering a steady stream of words designed to mimic the speed of thought. Rockaby features an old woman rocking and uttering the word "more" as her taped voice rhythmically recites a haunting, lyrical, disembodied poem.
Those are the two plays in which Boyette is featured. Her director, Phillip Zarrilli, who has been working closely with Whitelaw, stars in Act Without Words I, a mime play set in a desert and featuring a man flung onto a stage and interacting with three cubes, a carafe of water, a pair of scissors and a palm tree—all of which descend from the sky. The fourth play, Ohio Impromptu, which includes Zarrilli and Welsh actor Peader Kirk, involves a man reading a fragmented passage from a book while another man, dressed in a long black coat, knocks on a table.
According to Boyette, characters in all four plays are grappling with "loneliness, trying to find someone else out there, making a connection."
Whitelaw, whose wide-ranging career records remarkable successes, including her role as Desdemona to Olivier's Othello and the evil nanny in The Omen, calls Not I (the weirdest and scariest of the four plays at GTC) an inner scream, an endless nightmare pouring from an old woman. Boyette describes it as a monologue delivered by a woman whose "life is flashing before her and who has not been able to express herself and now it's vomiting forth from her mouth without her knowing why."
Scream. Nightmare. Death. Vomit. The beauty of Beckett's work is that when done well—the way he visualized it—each viewer walks away with his or her own interpretation of what the play means. Or with nothing at all. In that sense, The Beckett Project illustrates Beckett's ability to capture onstage what the Abstract Expressionists did on canvases.
But the way to get that across goes against what most actors are taught. Just as Beckett's audiences must ignore everything they have ever come to expect from a play—strong characters with clear motivations, a well-told story, etc.—actors cannot approach his plays from the Stanislavski "being in the moment"/ "who is this character"/"what's my motivation" school. For Beckett, it was important that an actor not act—that she or he instead be acted upon by the words.
"Beckett plays the notes through the actor; you're the instrument," Boyette said. "And you have to trust the audience will hear those notes instead of you manipulating the text."
The text is the character, not the person speaking. That's why Boyette says Beckett has to be approached musically. Find the rhythm of the piece, and then, through constant repetition, something magical happens in which the actor's subconscious begins interacting with the text.
You could argue that such a process subverts the very idea of theater. But spend a few minutes with Boyette on the still-bare stage of the Gem Theater, and you get the idea that subversion is what Beckett demands. And for those few actors who have made Beckett their mission, there seems no other choice than to do it like the man wanted.