I Am Reading/Watching/Listening No. 15
The late, great playwright Edward Albee looms large this week.
I discovered the late, great American playwright Edward Albee in the early 1980s, and ever since I’ve been drawn to two of his plays: The Zoo Story, which I seem to recall doing scene work on in high school, and Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? which I wrote about for the campus newspaper at the University of Oregon when the play was done at the Hult Center in downtown Eugene.
I recall laughing a lot during the first act of Woolf, how razor-sharp funny it was. And then being astonished by the terrifying descent that followed. Albee’s plays tend to do that. You laugh, and then you’re like, holy shit!
I spent a lot of time this last week re-reading both plays, knowing of the potential for engaging with each in the future.
Neither is a sure thing, and in both cases, it’s not my decision.
The Zoo Story
In 2001 I mounted a production of The Zoo Story at my community theater with two remarkable actors. It was the first play I directed, and it was a positive experience. If you’ve not seen or read it, the premise (spoilers ahead, obviously) is that a complacent, middle-aged man (Peter) seated on a bench in Central Park is disturbed by a mentally ill man (Jerry) whose stories, antics, harassment, and final action jolt him awake. The play is notable for having a mesmerizing, 5-page monologue that requires the actor playing Jerry to be at the top of his game.
I reread the play last week because I’m considering auditioning for the role of Peter in a couple weeks. That’s the only role I’d accept, if offered, and given that I expect some strong competition, there’s obviously no guarantees. If I decide to jump, I’ll do so very aware of the fact that I’m a few years older than the actor I directed in that role was at the time of that production.
The question I’m rolling around right now is whether I want to go there. Time-wise, it would be a fairly light load. Actorly-wise, Peter goes through some things. So, we shall see. I have time to think about it, fortunately. In the meantime … I’ll read it again. And probably again.
Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?
In the pantheon of American 20th century theater, Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? is Mt. Everest. Which isn’t to say there aren’t other, similarly enormous and supremely difficult and grueling plays looming in the same mountain range—Death of a Salesman, The Iceman Cometh and Angels in America are up there, too.
But Albee’s play was and remains a singularity. It blasted through doors. Some other play would have eventually accomplished the same thing, but it was Woolf that pulled it off first. Without it, there’s no Angels in America, or God of Carnage, Glengarry Glen Ross, or any number of other take-no-prisoners theatrical pieces.
If you’ve not seen it, it’s basically the Afterparty from Hell. A small university history professor, George, and his wife Martha host a new biology teacher, Nick, and his wife Honey in a late-night “nightcap” party that plays out in real time over three hours. By the end, illusions have been shattered, lies have been revealed and, depending on your interpretation, souls have been saved and/or annihilated. After the agonizing third and final act, what Albee called the play’s fourth act ensues: Couples debating and perhaps even arguing about what they just saw.
To say that Woolf is about a marriage is like saying The Godfather is about the mafia. Each serves as a portal into something larger. Both are ultimately about the promise and failure of postwar America. Woolf includes little topics like gender, masculinity, class, higher-ed and psychology, among others.
Last winter, I proposed directing Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? at a community, non-profit theater in the Willamette Valley here in Oregon. The play selection group will consider it and other proposals on the table give directors their decision in a couple months. The 2025 season will be unveiled later this summer.
Someone that evening asked me if I had any concerns—other than the trepidations that surely accompany any production of this play: Will audiences really want to sit for three hours listening to four people scream at each other? Will I be able to find actors willing and able to do these incredibly demanding roles?
“Look,” I said. “The play scares the shit out of me, okay? It should. It’s Mt. Everest. It’s huge, and it’s dangerous.” I saw a couple people nod. They get it, and I think they were relieved that I’m going into this with my eyes open. Why do I want to do it? Why this play? Because it’s Mt. Everest. Because it’s there.
I assume absolutely nothing, but I’ve also started working with the script, because it’s that kind of play. At some point, I’ll pop in the 1966 film version with Richard Burton and Elizabeth Taylor. It’s very good, if you’ve not seen it.
I’ll have announcements one way or the other about both shows soon.
Artlandia scheduling announcement
I’m planning to do just one post weekly for awhile, which will likely be at the usual time on Wednesday morning. I’m also more or less settled on taking a summer break, starting on the solstice and ending on the equinox, to afford some time for (Artlandia) projects requiring a lot of work before the writing begins.
That said, I’ll probably fire off two or three over the summer simply because writing about my encounters with art is what I do. I’ll be seeing a production of Macbeth and Coriolanus, after all. How could I clam up about that? I’ll decide toward the end of summer whether to resume twice-weekly postings.
Thank-you for reading and sharing my work. Thank-you, S, for the paid subscription last week. Feeling the feels!