“It’s much too dark.”
“It’s repetitive and boring.”
“This is not entertainment.”
The scene was the Theater Project’s rehearsal studio in West Springfield. The occasion was a series of staged readings of new plays. But the dialogue quoted above was not from any of the three scripts presented in this afternoon-and-evening marathon. It occurred during the audience talkback following one of the readings, and sparked what one person later described as “one of the most theatrical events I’ve ever witnessed.”
My Snowman My Snowman, by T. Emerson, is a short two-character play about a middle-aged couple, Dave and Judy, dealing with the aftermath of a stroke that leaves Dave almost speechless—his utterances limited to repetitions of a few unrelated phrases: “Thank you, Judy,” “White River Junction!” and “My snowman.”The topic is painful, but the script, performed by UMass theater professors Milan Dragicevich and Julie Nelson, found sparks of humor in the lopsided dialogue.
The talkbacks were intended to elicit audience responses to each play, in order to guide the playwrights in further development of the works in progress. Besides Snowman, the other scripts presented were The Island Lily, a romantic comedy set in a dockside bar in Key West, by the Theater Project’s director, Danny Eaton; and Sandwich, by actor and playwright Steve Henderson, about three generations of women wrestling with coming of age and growing old.
Most of the audience found these two scripts charming but imperfect, and offered suggestions (sometimes contradictory) for sharpening character relationships, story arcs and plot outcomes. Even the criticisms were offered constructively and, as Henderson remarked later, it was clear that in each case “at least everybody saw the same play.”
The play people saw in My Snowman, though, was a collision of opposites. While most of the talkback comments applauded the script and the playwright’s handling of a difficult subject, the very first person to raise his hand objected fiercely to the play’s “dark” mood and upsetting theme. Another spectator chimed in to second that emotion, adding, “What people want is light entertainment, to make them feel good.”
The discussion of this script became a lightning rod for a sweeping critique of some of the Theater Project’s programming choices, which expanded into an animated debate about the purpose of live theater. Two couples in particular, longtime Theater Project subscribers, objected forcefully to the company’s inclusion of “depressing” plays in its calendar. One example that surfaced, Margaret Edson’s Wit, about a woman dying of cancer, was hotly challenged by Eaton, who defended it as “one of the greatest plays of the 20th century” that he was proud to have staged.
Like most theater managers, Eaton strives to provide variety and balance in his seasons, mixing light entertainment with more thoughtful, even challenging work, seeking both to satisfy easy expectations and to expand horizons. And most of those who weighed in, theater professionals and self-described “ordinary theatergoers” alike, were adamant that theater can and should serve both purposes—to provide “mere” diversion and to provoke the “pity and fear” the Greeks aimed for.
The argument itself created a classic dramatic arc: the stable equilibrium of polite discussion disturbed by an unexpected upheaval, producing tension and conflict, leading to—well, okay, there was no final resolution or reconciliation, but both viewpoints were listened to and heard. Every participant cared deeply about the theater—this institution specifically and the unique world of the stage in general. The most insistent critics here were two of the Theater Project’s most loyal and generous supporters.
The discussion, shedding both heat and light, was also a model of how our national politics should be: people with passionately held convictions talking to, not at, each other. But that’s another play.
