Monday, March 21, 2011

Musical Theatre DNA

The subject of British versus American musicals seems to have come up a lot recently. David Cote thinks the Americans win hands down when it comes to having the right cultural DNA. As a librettist and workshop facilitator myself, I often hear writers bemoan the difference between the two musical theatre worlds.


Although there’s never enough teaching of craft, there are several UK courses on musical theatre writing. There are companies who specifically support new musicals, and two new “British musicals” have recently hit London: Stephen Clark and Howard Goodall’s Love Story and the Cowen, Lipman, Stiles and Drewe show Betty Blue Eyes.


Do they fit the “British musical” tag? The Theatre Royal Stratford East are soon to stage what they’re calling a “British Chinese musical”: Takeaway, a story set in London, written by New York-based writer Robert Lee and Hong Kong-based composer Leon Ko. (This definition would make Evita an Argentinean musical. Argentinean British?)


Director Kerry Michael, a big supporter of musical theatre writers and writing, says the tag is not just about the British experience in the story, but also about the British money that’s financing the project. It is undeniably brilliant that there’s money and support for new writing, but stories don’t emerge from the money. They emerge from the writer.


This will be a story about a British experience, told by American Chinese writers. All of those things will influence the show... and more.


David Cote is correct: American writers have American Musical Theatre written into their cultural DNA. Any creative writer can only tell stories filtered through their own unique make-up. That’s not about American people, but about people who are American amongst other things.


Take me, for example. I was born in America but predominantly raised in England. I am also Danish by descent, and have had a lot of Scandinavian influence in my life.


Anything I write must filter through all of these things in order to get to the page. There is no helping that. I expect if you look closely, you’ll find both panto and Tom Lehrer in my humour. My characters certainly chase the Danish concept of hygge in their lives, but mostly try to do so in a New York Minute. None of those things would be true if it were not for everything that I am, and everything that I am is the only thing that I can be.


So the upcoming “British Chinese musical” is a British American Chinese musical, if you like, but it is so much more than that. Let’s celebrate Robert Lee and Leon Ko as writers, and Kerry Michael as director. The show, and this production of it, will emerge from the complexity of everything they are, including but not limited to their nationalities or cultural identities (which are even more complex than I have mentioned here).


Writers of new musicals need to know that there is no perfect model of ‘British’ or even ‘American’ musical theatre against which to compare our own work. Writing is hard enough as it is, without a fantastical goal of what we should be creating or, frankly, a fantastical idea of what might be inhibiting our creativity.


The most successful writers are true to themselves as people, and therefore true to the writing. It’s not easy. Writing can be terrifying, but if we are the only ones inhibiting ourselves then we have the power to change, and that is the crucial difference.


Other factors certainly open or close doors for writers in terms of productions, but once you’re in the theatre and connecting with an audience, only the truth will do. So I say to writers: ignore any notion of what British musical theatre ought to be, and just write truthfully. It will filter through some ‘Britishness’ anyway, as it emerges from you. Don’t get in its way.


Sunday, February 20, 2011

The Copenhagen Interpretation

More philosophy! If blocking consists of finding paths through a map of the territory - combined physical space, objects, character physicality - depending, of course, on the weather that day...

- and it's lovely to think of a map drawn in sand
-

... then does X mark the spot?


If X is where the treasure of the drama lies, then I think X is a movable feast.


A better analogy for me is The Copenhagen Interpretation. (Which seems to be the name of my new theatre company, if everyone involved agrees. Catchy, ain't it?)


It's a theory in Quantum Mechanics which states that a quantum particle normally exists in all possible states of existence, all in one go, but when someone tries to observe it, it's forced to choose one state in which to present itself.


(For the most famous theoretical proof of this theory, see Schrödinger's cat, in which the cat is both alive and dead whilst no-one can see it in the box. If you opened the box, one state of existence would be forced to be the observed state of existence.)


In my view, at any given moment in drama, emotion is presented in such a way that anyone - or at least, anyone collaboratively willing - sees it in a specific form of existence and connects with it in their own personal way.


The drama itself doesn't make a decision about that final presentation: someone observes the drama, and experiences it in their own personal choice of existence in order to serve their own personal connection with the drama.


So I don't think there is one specific X for everyone. I think the map is littered with X's, but every audience member only sees their own X, which is exactly how it should be: their own Copenhagen Interpretation.