On June 25th, 2010, Chris Jones at The Chicago Tribune published an article “‘Return to Haifa’: Play on conflict stirs up plenty. Here’s the full story.” Sometime after, the archive in which the article was included was moved to a new page on the site, and the article itself (along with subsequent commentary from readers) was lost.

The story dealt with the closure of “Return to Haifa,” a play produced at Next Theatre in Evanston penned by late Chicago playwright M.E.H. Lewis. A quick summary can be had here. Five years later, the theater company went bust, due to matters extraneous to the scandal (largely financial), as reported in American Theatre.

I was among those commenting. As I mentioned yesterday, one hates to compose something (“construe” I said) only to have it disappear without a trace. Thanks to the Wayback Machine, I was able to locate the original Chris Jones article (and you can too). All of the comments were recovered—if memory serves me well—except for one final one that began another page and hence escaped capture. The author of that last comment stated that he felt the article together with its commentary would be of educational value to students of theater, and I recall nodding to myself in assent. (I printed out those comments, but seem to have lost the last page.)

What follows is the text of that comment section, unedited save for minor typographical correction as I’ve seen fit (replacing a double hyphen with an M-dash). All else is untouched. Enjoy:

Comments
Wow. Announcing a project before rights are secured is NOT how things are habitually done stateside at all! Get an executed contract before you announce, always. What the heck did Southerland think would happen?

I only wish there was more definitive proof available that Lewis was completely innocent. For my part I believe her, and it’s a shame that her reputation has been affected by this unfortunate situation.
Posted by: Packrat | June 25, 2010 at 09:36 AM

I don’t know about that (going forward without rights). There has been plenty of discussion about Court adding Three Tall Women — pending final approval — to its 2010-11 season. I’ve even seen ads for the next season with this play listed, along with the caveat about rights approval. I can think of a few other high profile projects that have been announced but might still fall through, but I’ll refrain from commenting on them. Granted gaining rights for already produced works is much easier than for brand-new ones, but it isn’t unheard of to announce a season and then have to make changes later.
Posted by: EricP | June 25, 2010 at 10:36 AM

Great reporting, Chris - finally some clarity after weeks of rumor, accusation, speculation, denial....

Seems like everyone up in Evanston stinks to high heaven, not just the fired AD (talk about a career ending injury - good riddance, he’s clearly a rat), but the board (knowing there were rights issues even before announcing the season, no one raised an eyebrow when JS commissions a play of the same title based on a novella & adaptation they do not have the rights to? Really? Are they that asleep at the wheel? Sends chills down my spine to think of what else they might have missed during Mr. Southerland’s troubled tenure.) and the playwright (adaptor? cryptoplagiarist? helpless victim of an evil tooth fairy who inserts lines into plays when you are asleep?) - what was she thinking? She must have read the existing novella and adaptation - she didn’t think to ask, “Is what we're doing here kosher?” She believed re: the rights question that “that would be taken care of”? I'm sorry, I don’t care how prestigious the gig or how much they pay you, unless they say “Yes, we have the rights” do not sign on the dotted line.... The board and playwright playing victim to boogeyman southerland just seems, well... amateurish? Sorry, the “Jason-made-me-do-it” defense is beneath everyone’s dignity.

One unanswered question in your article: Where was the managing director during all this? Why didn't he speak up when it was clear they didn’t have the rights... I assume he had something to do with the contract with the playwright.... how do you in good faith get someone to sign a contract to adapt something you know you do not have the rights to? Why hasn’t his rear end gotten fired?
Posted by: Kilgore Trout III | June 25, 2010 at 10:39 AM

In fairness, many theaters announce with rights pending—both Steppenwolf and Court announced Albee plays pending approval, for example. But presumably they are well on the way to final approval.

This situation is just crazy.
Posted by: JennyB | June 25, 2010 at 11:08 AM

aw, c’mon—southerland was just following in the great tradition of such illustrious illinoisians as Blago, Quinn, Ike Carothers and countless others. guess what he meant by “how it works quite often in the u.s.” was “how it works quite often in Illinois.” and, i'm sorry, lewis was destructively naive.
Posted by: mariep | June 25, 2010 at 11:11 AM

Holy crap what a monster it makes Southerland sound like. If even a fraction of the story is true (and any more I don't believe a third of what I read or see in any form of media), what kind of an artist so easily tramples on the creative and intellectual property of fellow artists like that? What I really don't understand is that it can’t have been for fame and fortune—Next isn’t that big. So it just means he’s a colossal egomaniac?
Posted by: LizzieD | June 25, 2010 at 12:49 PM

I have always known Margaret Lewis to be an artist of the highest integrity. I stand by her as a collaborator and a friend.
Posted by: John Sanders | June 25, 2010 at 12:55 PM

BRAVO BOAZ !!!!
a great play !!!!
no 1 can take it from you !!!
Posted by: nadi | June 25, 2010 at 03:26 PM

I know plenty of theatres, both large (10 million plus) and storefront size that have announced shows without an executed contract. However, there was always approval from the playwright or her representation prior to making the announcement.
Posted by: Larry | June 25, 2010 at 04:14 PM

A fascinating story. And another of why Chris Jones is as valuable as a reporter as much (perhaps more) as he he as a critic.
Posted by: Returntojournalism | June 25, 2010 at 04:52 PM

This whole episode is disconcerting. I don’t know Jason Southerland, but saw him speak before and after (along with Margaret Lewis) the performance of Return to Haifa I saw at Next and he didn’t come across as a brazen egomaniac or whatever might account for his confounding decisions.

I found the production of RTH, which he directed, to be excellent and quite well-balanced. That he would ruin his job, reputation and likely career in the name of arrogant righteousness, obsessive artistic vision or just plain stupidity is really a shame. While I valued seeing the Southerland/Lewis (and to whatever degree Gaon/Kanafani) version of RTH, as Next’s stellar production of The Overwhelming proved, there are plenty of good, new, thought-provoking plays waiting to be presented around Chicago. Despite the artistic merit of Return to Haifa, Southerland obviously should have avoided the drama and made a better choice for all involved.
Posted by: Seth Arkin | June 25, 2010 at 10:30 PM

A very well-balanced account.
Posted by: David Novak | June 26, 2010 at 08:39 PM

Great reporting and an outstanding chronology of the events backed by all the facts. Though the deposed artistic director was clearly the instigator and perpetrator of the most egregious acts here, clearly the playwright, managing director and the board of directors of the theater must be held accountable as well. None of them lived up to their responsibilities, as the artistic director’s actions did not take place in a vacuum. It seems to me that a wholesale housecleaning at The Next is in order here.
Posted by: Al Robins | June 27, 2010 at 01:18 PM

as a member of the team who worked on this show, I have to thank you, Mr. Jones for the clarity and concision here. at the time, in the throes of creation, there were odd glitches that made little sense, but were glossed over as being novelties of the process.

now with a little hindsight, and a clearer perspective (thanks to you) it allows me to think I wasn’t necessarily losing my mind, thinking that something didn't quite add up.

it's a shame that what, at it’s heart, is a beautiful, haunting, and heart-wrenching story about the question of family and loss has been lost itself in an unnecessary and destructive quagmire. I have two fears leaving this topic.. one is that Next will have a hard time rebounding (Chicago needs places like NEXT) and secondly, that the Khanafani estate will now be less-inclined to Western adaptations of his work. No matter your political beliefs, that can be seen as nothing but a loss.
Posted by: tom | June 28, 2010 at 04:02 AM

Ms. Lewis has stated very clearly and on more than one occasion that she never read Mr. Gaon's play and had no idea that Southerland was plagiarizing it. I see no reason to doubt her word. Southerland’s actions were bizarre, and I’m sure everyone involved was completely shocked to learn what he had done. As stated elsewhere, all copies of the play were destroyed in compliance with the legal settlement, so it’s disingenuous to turn around and say that it’s impossible to compare scripts for that reason. Moreover, what difference does it make? A press release was issued acknowledging the plagiarism, just as Mr. Gaon and his lawyers demanded, so who cares if it was 8 lines or 20 lines? Ms. Lewis is a playwright of spotless reputation who would never knowingly be involved in such things. It's a shame that Mr. Jones didn’t bother contacting her to get her reaction to the accusations. This is irresponsible journalism that may harm the career of one of Chicago’s best playwrights. I hope and believe that Ms. Lewis’ reputation will speak for itself and this sad affair will soon be distant history.
Posted by: Rebecca | June 28, 2010 at 01:55 PM

Lewis has stated clearly and repeatedly that she did NOT read Gaon’s adaptation of the novella. This is very reasonable. She avoided reading a work adapted from the same material she was approaching, not for legal reasons, but to preserve the purity of her artistic vision, a very standard approach. And of course she did read Khanafani’s novella. After all, she was commissioned by Jason Southerland and Next Theatre to write an adaptation of it. She has never claimed that her play was not adapted from or inspired by the novella. And because it was a commission, it was very reasonable for Lewis to expect that Southerland would handle getting the rights. They had a gentlemen’s agreement. Lewis's mistake was thinking that Southerland was a gentleman. Similarly, when Southerland edited Lewis's script and inserted new lines, while Lewis may have been appalled by his rudeness, why would she ever assume that the reputable artistic director of a highly respected theatre would ever do something as dishonorable and frankly bizarre as plagiarizing another play? As to any similarities between the two plays, again, they are adaptations of the same novella. In the novella, the Jewish woman sees her younger brother murdered by Nazi soldiers. It’s a simple and logical dramatic shift to change that to a murdered baby, one that might occur to any playwright. The other similarities named by Gaon are vague and not worthy of discussion. Anyone who has seen Lewis's other plays would immediately recognize her distinctive voice and motifs, including that of a dead baby, which occurs in many of her works.

Lewis acted honestly, ethically and in good faith, as did all other members of the Next Theatre. Were they naive to trust the artistic director of a prominent theatre? Well, hind sight is always perfect, but Southerland’s actions were so deceitful and bizarre that anyone could be forgiven for being taken in by him. This is a terrible example of the damage that can be done by a single dishonest man.
Posted by: phark | June 28, 2010 at 04:45 PM

I preface the following by saying I do not know Ms. Lewis or her work (frankly I never heard of her before the story of RETURN TO HAIFA broke a few weeks ago), and I have no vested interest in Next or any of the individuals or organizations involved in this fiasco. I write, first because I find the story fascinating, and second, because I do have a vested interest in rights and responsibilities as they pertain to playwrights.

With all due respect to the authors of the previous posts, whether or not Ms. Lewis ever laid eyes on Gaon’s adaptation of the novella is irrelevant. The point they miss is that Ms. Lewis signed on to do an unauthorized adaptation of a copyrighted work - and that’s a no-no, no matter how you slice it. Even had there been no plagiarism later in the process, her agreement to adapt the novella was deeply problematic, not to mention completely illegal, to begin with.

I would be interested to see a copy of the commission agreement she signed. What did it state she was being hired to do? An original work? Or an adaptation of an existing novella? Or something else?

If it was an original work, why did they bother to retain the title and essential plot elements of the original?

If the contract was for an adaptation of the novella, the problems multiply. While Jason Southerland certainly deserves the heap of blame that’s gone his way - it is unlikely that he wrote the contract. That usually falls to the managing director representing the company (and by extension the Board of Directors). If he knowingly wrote up a contract with Lewis to adapt something he knew they did not have the rights to, then he and the board of directors should be strolling alongside Mr. Southerland along the walk of shame. Even in the unlikelihood that Southerland wrote the contract, other folks at Next must have read it for them to have cut a check (or was Southerland responsible for that as well?). That no one there raised the alarm is shameful.

Further, Lewis must also be held accountable for signing onto a project with nothing more than a vague reassurance that the rights “would be taken care of”. An earlier post described her actions as naively destructive, and I would have to concur if she took this as enough reassurance to sign the contract and begin the business of writing the adaptation.

Again, my intention is not to take down Ms. Lewis - I only point this out so that other writers reading this do not make the same disastrous mistake. When a writer signs on to do an adaptation of copyrighted material, they are not only entering into an agreement with the theatre, but also with the copyright holder. This is supremely important to understand, because the text of the adaptation will outlive the production, and both parties, adaptor and copyright holder MUST come to a clear understanding of what the fate of that text will be once the production closes. There are all sorts of variations on agreements between adaptors, translators and copyright holders - some allow for future production, others don't (Brecht for example was notorious for only permitting production-specific translations of his work), some allow for publication, others don’t, but the standard practice is to set clear parameters among the parties pertaining to financial arrangements, royalty splits and future rights.

I would imagine a writer of Ms. Lewis’ experience and reputation would know this, and thus would have done more due dilligence than taking the theatre’s word for it. It was also a terrible business move - signing onto something and not looking into establishing terms with the copyright holder (in this case there were none - even more a reason to do so) weakens the adaptor’s bargaining power. Perhaps, coming from the relative informality of the storefront world, Ms. Lewis overlooked this key point and we can chalk it up to inexperience.

Lastly, I think an important lesson to ALL playwrights: never let anyone insert passages of text you did not write into your plays. You are the author. I don’t care if your play is being directed by Peter Brook. I don't care if Samuel Beckett himself rises from the dead and whispers passages of dazzling beauty into your ears. I don't care if you feel obliged to make nice with your collaborators. It's not their place to do something like that - suggestions are fine - it’s your choice to accept or reject them, and if someone has the rudeness and audacity to write a line of dialogue and hand it to you, say “Thanks for the suggestion, let me look at it overnight”. If it's a good suggestion, write your own version of the line in your language. If it's bad, drop it behind a file cabinet. Ms. Lewis allowed a disastrous situation to turn catastrophic when she ceded her authorial rights to Jason Southerland - it doesn't matter if it was one line or a hundred, she
accepted those lines into her text. I've read in other accounts that she feels the events at Next are yet another egregious example of writers being the target of disrespect. With all due respect, Ms. Lewis disrespected her own work by agreeing to use lines “written” by Mr. Southerland.
Posted by: Alex C | June 28, 2010 at 10:23 PM

Mr. Jones, thank you for this piece. It clears up quite a bit of angst that I, and both my Arab and Jewish friends had after seeing this play together. I was very excited about seeing the play and in preparation, I read the original novella - which I encourage everyone to read. But we were disappointed and confused by some of the changes made to the story, and even moreso after the “chat” with the writer & some of the actors afterward when we were told that it was not an adaptation, but an original work “inspired” by the novella. The program did not even mention Kanafani, though the Next website and reviews did. Now it makes sense - because I couldn’t believe the Kanafani's would have agreed to this version. I hope to get to Washington D.C. to see Ari Roth's version - I always enjoy his productions and trust his integrity. I feel bad for Next Theatre and Margaret Lewis for getting swept up in Southerland’s unscrupulous behavior. Gaon so aptly identified the strange irony in the whole situation.
Posted by: Lisa Kosowski | June 29, 2010 at 06:05 PM

Southerland carries a good amount of the blame, but I know this is not the first time Lewis has lifted work from another author. In the program on opening night Next claimed that Lewis was famous for doing enough research for a PhD dissertation in the space of a few months. The fact is, no one can do that, and Lewis obviously likes to skip the sweat and get to the glory.
Posted by: Teresa | July 01, 2010 at 03:49 PM

Tom, “a member of the team who worked on this show,” argues that “Chicago needs places like NEXT.” I would argue not.

With Chris Jones’ research, and subsequent commenting, it appears that CAFO system corruption lies more entrenched there than a wayward artistic director or “destructively naive” playwright. Alex S. says “[the managing director] and the board of directors should be strolling alongside Mr. Southerland along the walk of shame.” In this he echoes Al Robins: “It seems to me that a wholesale housecleaning at the Next is in order here.” But it is unlikely to happen.

That is why “We are circling the wagons and are unanimous in our desire and decision to move forward.” There is an effort to keep blame from spreading further into the organization. (I just checked Next's website and found no explanation of the affair, or if there is one it is planted where it is hard to find.)

Even as she fingered Southerland, Lewis denied that she was “interested in pointing fingers or assigning blame,” which only led to the three fingers pointing back at her (for her peccadillo) to receive the lion's share of the attention. She didn’t want to rock the boat at Next either, having (to use the words of Alex S. again) a “vested interest” there and “feel[ing] obliged to make nice with [her] collaborators.”

A more sophisticated audience might revolt; but I suspect the public is too locked into its season-pass buying habits to effect any great change. The fare at Next is probably good enough in delivering to expectation.

According to Atlanta playwright Karla Jennings, “seven playwriting programs... dominate the national theater network,” and the system, as it has evolved (not unlike modern agro-business), places a primacy upon administration before the actual “food.” Alex S., absorbed in his theory, may issue a blanket statement, “never let anyone insert passages of text,” but Lewis was operating in the real world, and the only result of adhering to what Jennings refers to as “superb principles” is not getting produced. Homogenization is the industry standard, and so such an incident of plagiarism can be likened to an outbreak of salmonella: not so serious of itself but indicative of greater faults within the system. The wonder is not that this situation arose but that similar do not occur more frequently. (They will, and media interest will die down.)

It is easy to provide the spectacle of Lewis flailing in the wind, as her reputation—“spotless” per commenter Rebecca—now finds that descriptor wedded to the adjective “formerly.” But, while Alex S. is dead on target vis-a-vis rights and the ramifications of unauthorized adaptation, the world was not always so litigious as the one we presently inhabit, and from an artistic standpoint, they hardly need apply.

Terence, of course, would have to be erased today; but his audience rather expected an unauthorized adaptation of a foreign story, and tremendous lines, were they known, would likely have stirred up more of a fuss because of their absence than for their inclusion. The “plagiarism” that would have appalled the ancients was when a manager or some other hand inserted his own lines into an author's text. That an author accepted them would mean that he was a bad artist. But here the longer shadow is cast, not upon Lewis, but upon Next and the entire theatrical context. To quote Robins again, this “did not take place in a vacuum.” It may not be that “everyone up in Evanston stinks to high heaven” (as per “Kilgore Trout III”), but it is hard not to notice the penetrating stench although Next's website seeks to camouflage it.

The unintended victims here were audience members like Lisa Koslowski, who fell for the bait-and-switch and attended expecting one thing but received another. This—as I have mentioned elsewhere—owes to a fundamental misconception as to the function of dramatic theater; but what is to be done?

The only remedy, that I can see, is that Next should fold, or more probably, that a new artistic director come in as the tip of an iceberg to a general “housecleaning” as per Al Robins.

How to salvage Next's reputation? Number one, full disclosure on the company website, if not now then probably soon relegated to the “history” section about the Next, but certainly not omitted or glossed. Then—and this may not be possible—if there does come into being an Ari Roth Hebrew mounting (but this remains problematic), I would beg, borrow and plead to get it to travel from Washington where it could be presented to Next patrons and subscribers who saw the Southerland version—and give it free of charge to the least publicized victims of this fiasco.

As Tom said, the Khanafani estate might not be inclined to do so; and it may not be feasible anyhow—but I can see no other means to restore credibility (if never making full reparation), instead of a whitewash.
Posted by: David Novak | July 02, 2010 at 09:16 AM

My comment was not previously posted, so here it goes again (at least in somewhat similar form)-

Alex, you assume that the contracts were negotiated and drawn up by the MD. In many instances, this is not the case. Many times this does fall to the Artistic Director. It really depends on the organization- and the project. From the narrative outlined here, Southerland was doing all of the negotiating and probably generated some of the contracts, as well.

Perhaps there is accountability to be had by others at Next. While this reporting is certainly extensive, it is most probably not comprehensive. And it is certainly presumptive (and facile) on our parts to assume blame to individuals- or the wholesale inclusion of every board member and staff member at Next- without substantial information. But for the sake of argument, I’ll do the same, only take the opposite position.

It is possible, and in fact, probable, that Southerland was dealing with these negotiations from the beginning. After all, that is what has been reported here. The MD and/ or staff and board were in all likelihood not privy to many of the correspondences and conversations. When Southerland was approached on how things were progressing, he might have said, “It’s all handled. Don’t worry about it.” When pressed for a decision to be made about producing a show based on getting the rights from the Kanafani estate- which had not been secured- he very well may have responded much like he did when Anni Kanafani contacted him: “We've moved far enough away from the source material that it won't be a problem, so we're really not doing an adaptation. We’re actually doing something else.” If he was saying this, and his Board and staff (including the MD) trusted him and that he was doing his job, they would take him at his word, and figure there was no longer a need for securing rights to material that they were no longer adapting. If he was their source of information, then he had the ability to essentially censor and control what information they were provided with.

Chris quotes Southerland from an email to the Kanafani estate: ‘ “We are not currently staging an adaptation of Mr. Kanafani's story,” he told the estate in an e-mail. “(Lewis) wrote an original work inspired by the idea but also by dozens of other works. The play bares little resemblance to Mr. Kanafani’s story”.’ It may very well be that this is what he was telling his staff and board.

Some have called the belief in this story “naive” and that may be so. But we are looking at this from hindsight, which as we know, is close to 20/20. Again, his board and staff assumed he was DOING HIS JOB so maybe they took him at his word. Again, maybe he told them they were not doing the Kanafani (or Gaon) story, that he decided to go another way, and they took him at his word. After all, emails are not copied to everyone in an organization. Clearly, conversations and email correspondances were had without others’ knowledge. How many of us (either in the corporate or non-profit sector) spend our work hours hovering over a colleague or superior checking and double-checking to make sure they are being ethical/ doing their jobs, etc? I have never had the luxury to do that. I would never get my own job done, let alone the ethical nightmare I would weave myself into. In fact, I have worked as an assistant to an executive, and although it was my responsibility to plan that person’s day and foster relationships with the executive's contacts, I had very limited access to important, sensitive or even sometimes work-a-day information. I didn't have unfettered access to this person’s email and certainly wasn't privy to phone conversations. I might know that they were having a conversation with Mr. X, but I certainly wouldn't know the verbatim content of the conversation. And even if I had suspicions about something happening, I would need to get proof. I couldn't just go off and start accusing said person of whatever it APPEARED to be to me.

Maybe, just maybe, some of the information here was just as much of a surprise to the folks at Next. And NO ONE in the organization appears to have known about the plagiarism. I think it's easy to paint everyone at Next with the same brush- that impulse is lazy and facile and should be avoided. What we have here, it seems, was a failure to communicate (or the purposeful withholding of important information), and that sounds like it might be an organizational structure issue than the fault of each and every individual associated with Next.

It’s important to keep the conversation focused on facts. And while I admit to indulging in supposition for the sake of argument, the difference is that I am not attempting to try people in the court of public opinion by filling in the gaps in this story at the expense of tarnishing the reputation of those people who are now left to deal with the mess left behind by the artistic director.
Posted by: Gwen | July 03, 2010 at 02:19 AM

I commented previous to David and for some reason it hasn't appeared. So I don't know if this will ever see the light of day either.

But fold the company? Really? Over this, admittedly, bad situation and a bunch of supposition about the amount the board and staff might have known? C’mon.

If the people at Next are inherently evil beings who prey on artists, eventually no one will work with them and they will fold. But I’ve never heard anything to that effect. It's not as though Next has a history of troubles of this sort. But Southerland, based on posts from people who knew him from Boston, does. So it's certainly possible that he was the sole cause of the problems and the rest of the people at Next are guilty of some naiveté and misplaced trust. But I don’t think that deserves a death sentence.
Posted by: Larry | July 03, 2010 at 02:19 AM

Re: Pending approval for Albee plays,

Mr. Albee requires cast approval before allowing a theater to produce his show. So, unless the theater wants to do an all-female Zoo Story, approval will likely be granted.
Posted by: Andrea | July 05, 2010 at 10:32 PM

I must comment on Gwen's post on July 3. An interesting slant on the Next situation, making it all the former artistic director’s fault that no one could have possibly seen. I agree that the entire situation was created by Southerland’s dishonesty and malfeasance and that no one could have known the extent to which it went. However, there is a big, big problem with letting everyone else off the hook. Southerland chose to use the name of an already existing play for his new re-written version not based on the same material (so he said). And, everyone from the managing director to the staff to the entire board knew that he had engaged a new writer and yet was using the name of a play for which he did not have the rights. The use of the title of the existing play for a new play should have been enough of a red flag for everyone to question what was going on at the theater.

As of today, the managing director has resigned, possibly before he was let go himself. And, the board is ultimately responsible for supervision of the staff and everything that transpires at the theater. That is their appointed role, that for which they signed up and, they have some limited financial liability in Illinois as well. Bottom line is that if the board knew nothing, then they were not doing their job of comprehensive supervision of their employees and the business of the theater. Though they surely did not know the extent of Southerland’s plagiarism, etc., it is their job to be on top of these things—and clearly they failed in this instance.
Posted by: Al Robins | July 06, 2010 at 10:20 AM

The actors who did such a beautiful job on this play are being cheated out of acknowledgement and possible awards because of the acts of a disturbed director. The playwright did an admirable job of writing a new play as per contract, and she has been unfairly disgraced. Next Theater, a reputable venue for good entertainment has gotten a bad name. How far reaching will the consequences of Jason Southerland’s dishonesty be when this is over? A small pebble thrown into a large body of talent creates many ripples, sadly.

Mick
Posted by: vecelia mcgarry | July 07, 2010 at 02:57 PM

Apparently the communications forum known as Disqus has a problem with labeling legitimate comments as spam. There appears to be no way to revoke that designation; worse, per user discussion, once a comment has been so labeled, all of the commenter’s future comments are likely to be so classified, regardless wherever online they may appear, any publication using Disqus.
​
I had the beginnings of a thought-provoking conversation with a user taking the handle @Noodle94. However my last comment got marked as spam, and remains unpublished, so I will reprint the entire discussion here, with regrets at its discontinuation. (I don’t have this page set up for comments, partly because I want to avoid the chore of scrubbing spam, about the only comments my ratiocinations are likely to garner.) The odds of Noodle94 coming here are small; yet, having construed a set of paragraphs, I want them to see the light, even the minimal light of this low-trafficked blog.

I made a comment at the American Theatre website after reading an article called "The Good Places" by Chad Bauman. It should be noted that the editor or comments moderator at American Theatre is unlikely to have seen my comment; the spam designation appears to come from Disqus and such comments are automatically withheld from the host site. At least such is my understanding.

The brief exchange follows.

David X Novak:

“We” do not need “a cohesive definition of excellence.”

Noodle94:

Why not? Considering how much crappy theatre is being done around the country, what's wrong with a statement that identifies areas and goals we can all agree upon? And I say “all agree upon” because I doubt anybody would argue against equity, diversity, new work and financial stability...

David X Novak:

You will always have “crappy theatre”; you will not democratize it out of existence. It's the nature of the beast.

Perhaps I'm fortunate, in Chicago, in that we have an awful lot of good theater. Often, as it happens, it’s the smaller companies that are better, the larger that are worse; but there’s not a one I can think of that’s not marked by unevenness. I used to think that it was director-based, but that’s not it. You can have a Charles Newell directed Agamemnon that’s one of the best things I’ve ever seen; but on another day he’s passing off garbage as art.

Frankly, Noodle94, I’m starting to think good theater happens by accident, or by a strange concatenation of events that is hard to predict. The talent in the city is not negligible, which may account for the overall level here, but even the best fail.

Noodle94:

I agree with you on all of your post, but I think the article is positing less a way of creating theatre and more a set of tenets for the reason to create. Good theatre productions are always half alchemy and half luck. But if we can agree that we create theatre because [fill in the blank], and that we are responsible stewards of the art form, then the theatre is bound to become more responsive to what is going on in the world.

We live in a world where what the theatre was isn’t what it used to be. Personally, I mourn that, but that’s for another article. Meanwhile, theatres have to maintain some form of aspirational relevance or they’re going to turn into coffee shops. If a “statement of principles” gets all of us to raise our games (even if that’s just financially), the “art” will continue to thrive...

David X Novak:

The article starts with the “vast majority of theatres nationwide [that] have put the word ‘excellence’ in their mission statements.” This itself is a dodge. “Excellence” is a by-product, not a goal.

While I recognize the good intentions of the piece, the article is too jargon-laden for me to wrap my head around. In Chicago, there are few (if any) “theatres that display a clear lack of diversity, from their resident acting companies to the productions they stage,” yet that does not automatically correlate with “excellence” however defined, and does not speak to diversity of administration or of audience, which may be more critical, insofar as “theatres... work at the intersection of the arts and social justice”.

In any context the term “world-class” is not helpful. But to my view it’s hardly necessary for a theater company to work at that intersection. Rather, it’s the multiplicity (or diversity) of goals and ambitions, among individual artists no less than institutions, that appeals to me. Any art—and I trust you are discussing theater as an art—defines the standards by which it will be judged (you might say creates them), and so placating critics or funders is no easy matter. Brecht and Weill had half their audience walk out; not good for the business plan, but inherent in the medium. And half applauded. (I am not the first soul to notice that everything gets a standing ovation in Chicago—“all but the best” as I posted recently.)

But Chicago is a good place for theater. It is possible to see a lot relatively cheaply, which does not seem to hold for other communities.

I would like to see your “another article.” I've never had the macro-sense to say, “We live in a world where what the theatre was isn't what it used to be.” Either it has been a hands-on experience, really too close to see beyond the crossing and dotting of t’s and i’s on the page so to speak, or else a plethora of fabulous and sparkling entertainments (albeit that sometimes fail miserably). So I’d like to understand better your sense what it was and what has changed—do flag me if you yourself compose such an article.

Edit 24 May 2018: For anyone else who encounters this trouble with Disqus (apparently it is fairly common, as per this article here), I contacted American Theatre and they were able to pull my comment from spam and graciously did so. I dislike having to impose on them; but trying to redress this problem through Disqus proves as hopeless as the article cited tells. It remains to see if I retain the Scarlet S (for spammer) on my forehead henceforth on Disqus. I will continue to use the forum, tentatively. But for this one experience I have liked it. Plenty of other users testify that the Scarlet S cannot be scrubbed, alas.]

I was trying to figure out how to review the play I saw last night. If Apu Nahasapeemapetilon is racist, then this was racist in overplus, or at least the case could credibly be made, yet I bet no one calls out the production or the company, one of Chicago's preeminent.

The play itself merits no criticism, but structural racism needs to be contemplated, and aberrations (however much of the norm) in the arts need to be related to it. But I’m not up to the task of social criticism.

The play was like a pastiche of Abbott-and-Costello-in-Africa type hijinks, mixed with a touch of social conscience and a dash of Duck Soup. But if you're going to imitate Abbott and Costello or the Marx Brothers, you’d best be up to their level in execution. Neither cast nor script passed clumsy; and I would bet even the original films that were copied have aged poorly.

That did not stop the audience from yucking it up, or giving the de rigueur (or perfunctory) standing ovation all but the best theater in Chicago receives. But the audience comprised well-healed elderly white folk predominantly. They may not be expected to have thought about Africa or colonialism (why?), but the play will not play well to another demographic, or even the same demographic at a later date, at least among those who have given thought.

Although the play was billed as a farce, you can’t throw a bunch of businessmen and deal-makers into an unnamed African country without some acknowledgement that colonialists have a history there. Even in a farce, Africa is not tabula rasa. None of the characters, or persons in the play, rose above cliche and caricature (not to mention the prerecorded preshow announcement that was worse than any Apu and half as funny).

Comedy works perfectly well with flat, one-dimensional characters. But take the Saudi character. It requires more than a headscarf to make a Saudi. The boner joke (visual) didn’t bother me; at least that was straight out of Aristophanes. Why not steal from the best. But when the sudden flip-flop occurs and he “comes out” as homosexually inclined, some recognition must be accorded that even a prince would not be so flamboyantly self-revealing. (The context could be established to set up the ludicrous, lewd behavior, but the playwright failed to do so.) A gay man in heat is not intrinsically funny, and his nudity in the second act, excessive, was not much to look at either. However, let me concede, the audience lapped it up.

Viewed technically—through the eyes of a dramatist—the play was no failure. Physically moving people around on the stage (speaking scriptorially, not directorially), the playwright revealed a sometimes deft hand; but there again, a poor casting choice taught me something about technique that would serve me well, if I could foresee myself writing a mistaken-identity farce of this nature.

The play might well have been titled “The Double,” and this would have been truer to the play’s scenario than the more pretentious and unsupported alternative that the playwright went with. Shakespeare notoriously has a boy-and-girl identical twin pair in one play, a mistake Plautus never made, from whom Shakespeare drew his inspiration—but the set-up is a comedic standard.

One actor played a dual role. To handle scenes in which both characters appeared on stage simultaneously, the playwright always had one in fencing gear, with his face covered (or otherwise covered). This would normally work; but the theater cast in the masked role an actor of a different build than the protagonist, a thinner man, and so the discrepancy was immediately obvious, and distracting, whenever he appeared. It would have been better to cast two actors with similar features, establish the identity, and then allow them to appear simultaneously unmasked. But that would have required a different playwright—a Shakespeare perhaps—confident enough to effect such a “suspension of disbelief” in his audience. The audience becomes a willing accessory to the illusion, an active participant, and I doubt that our audience in Chicago is any worse than Shakespeare’s.

I was lured to the play under false pretenses, or at least mistaken ones. I thought that my favorite local director was directing; but he was only listed as “Artistic Producer” (I’m not sure as to the function of such a producer in a theater of such stature and reputation: I thought the company was the producer. But he may have had a hand in the play’s selection, and his track record in choosing has been far from stellar.)

I also wanted to see an actress that I had seen in Agamemnon at the Court Theater a few years back. I sought her once previously in another local play, portraying what critic Chris Jones characterized as “a hard-boiled investigative reporter,” a dismal role in a different sort of well-intentioned theatrical posturing. It was a meatier role than last night’s; in neither case permitting the actress her potential, and in both my hopeful expectations were disappointed. I can see why Clytemnestra would be the role of a lifetime. (The audience failed to stand for that production, and its performers, though by rights such an ovation was earned and deserved.)

This does not address the central failing of the play. Gags—no matter how well performed—will not make up for a poor dramatic arc, or fractured conception. In this play, the deficiency might best be characterized as its childishness, both in terms of individual human interactions and politics on the grand scale. Comedy can fly well enough without the psychological insight of, say, a Degas painting; but if the thing is rigged wrongly, it cannot fly.

Despite a last-ditch preachy soliloquy by a main character which attempts to inject social justice relevance into an otherwise formless jumble of shenanigans, neither the pontification nor the politics defeat the play. As Michael Ventura pegged it in 2004,

​There is a well-known essay about Rudyard Kipling by George Orwell that I saw quoted the other day on social media. I wanted to look it up, but my book of Orwell is not ready to hand. I had read it years ago. As a next-best option, wanting to read about Kipling, I pulled down my Library of America edition of Edmund Wilson, to read his famous essay. (So many highly-regarded essays about Kipling: Eliot, Orwell, Wilson, each having written one.)

Wilson on Kipling is brilliant; to me it’s rather more fascinating to read about Kipling with a sense of history than from a "merely" literary perspective. I extracted some quotes; many more are available in the original essay, “The Kipling That Nobody Read” (available online), but I was pressed for time. Here is a sampling:

“One is surprised to learn from Something of Myself that over a period of seven years after the war (1900-07), Kipling spent almost half his time in South Africa, going there for five or six months of every year. He seems to have so little to show for it: a few short stories, and most of these far from his best. He had made the acquaintance of Cecil Rhodes, and must simply have sat at his feet. The Kiplings lived in a house just off the Rhodes estate; and Kipling devotes long pages to the animals in Rhodes's private zoo and to architectural details of Rhodes's houses. Even writing in 1935, he sounds like nothing so much as a high-paid publicity agent. It turns out that the Polonius-precepts in the celebrated verses called ‘If—‘ were inspired by Kipling's conception of the character of Dr. Jameson, the leader of the Jameson raid.”

“In any case, Kipling has committed one of the most serious sins against his calling which are possible for an imaginative writer. He has resisted his own sense of life and discarded his own moral intelligence in favor of the point of view of a dominant political party.”

“It is the paradox of Kipling’s career that he should have extended the conquests of his craftsmanship in proportion to the shrinking of the range of his dramatic imagination.”

“It is a key to the whole work of Kipling that the great celebrant of physical courage should prove in the long run to convey his most moving and convincing effects in describing moral panic.”