The Themes of Karen Karen Zacarías's "Legacy of Light"

Posted by Bruce Miller
It's cliché, but nonetheless true. You'll never please all of the people all of the time.

More and more I believe this is particularly true with theatre, that most accessible of art forms. Virtually everyone considers theatre to be something they "get." Thank God for that. Theatre has never been highbrow or esoteric; it never will be.

Sure, there are the Waiting for Godot's and Rhinoceros's of the world (Beckett's Godot will be produced this spring by Henley Street, and Terrie and I saw Ionesco's Rhinoceros last Saturday at William & Mary). But even with these purposefully nebulous masterpieces, most audience members join in on the laughs and then have further fun discussing the deeper meanings of these multi-faceted literary classics.

And there are high caliber contemporary works like Stephen Adly Guirgis's The Last Days of Judas Iscariot (currently under co-production by Henley Street and Triangle) and Tom Stoppard's Arcadia (produced earlier this season by Richmond Shakes). These great plays let the audience know early on that they intend to intellectually challenge and, perhaps, spiritually provoke. The audience "gets" this, and winds up loving the show (or not) based at least somewhat on whether they like to be invited into the fray.

Then there are plays like our current production of Legacy of Light by Karen Zacarías. Everyone seems to be appreciating this production. But some people walk away LOVING it--over the top in all caps--while others walk away with something like a shrug.

Legacy is not purposefully nebulous; it doesn't seek to challenge or provoke. So within the first few scenes, some audience members think they "get" what Legacy is all about, or they try to "get" it, and then some of them sit through the rest of the 2 hour 5 minute production somewhat indifferent as the unfolding action fails to further amplify the theme they think they "got."

Part of this may be my fault. Early on I've discussed with our various marketing staffers that Legacy can be viewed as a "girl power" play, focusing as it does on the lives of two great women scientists. I've called it a "mother/daughter" play, and indeed it is. "Girl power" and "mother/daughter" are two strong marketing themes you can hang your hat on. Those people who study these things tell us that, unless you're the Triangle Players or mounting a production of Lombardi, between 70 and 80% of all your ticket buyers will be women. And so, as we've attempted to sell Legacy to the Richmond theatergoing public, we've been hyping the "girl power" and "mother/daughter" themes.

Maybe this is why some people think that Legacy is principally about women trying to balance their personal and professional goals, or gender equality. Certainly the play addresses those themes, and was inspired by the playwright's personal experience of those issues. But I don't think that's what the play is principally about. And the trouble is, if one decides that Legacy is meant to thoroughly discuss those concerns, then the contemporary scenes, as Karen Zacarías has written them, may fall a little flat. In the contemporary scenes, "gender equality" is more or less a given.

May I humbly suggest that the principal themes of Legacy of Light are:
1 legacy - what do we get from our forebears and what do we leave to our children;
2 life, death and immortality; and
3 the interconnectedness of all things across time and space.

Among the many who LOVE Legacy of Light, these three themes are the ones most frequently discussed. The play examines these themes in terms that are scientific, spiritual and personal.

Like our previous productions of Boleros for the Disenchanted, The Clean House, Well, Melissa Arctic and James Joyce's The Dead, Legacy of Light is about lots of things. With plays like these, I think there is a danger, while watching and after, in trying to pin them down. They are best experienced, in my humble opinion, by allowing them to wash over you and lead you simultaneously on two or five different spiritual and intellectual journeys.

The fun, for me, comes at the end, in trying to piece all the various journeys together.

These productions are not esoteric, but, like great poetry, or music, or art, or dance, they also may take a while to pin down.

That is their strength.

--Bruce Miller

Who's in the pics? - 1 Ricardo Melendez and Patricia Duran, 2 Tamara Johnson and Maggie Horan, 3 Larry Cook and Tamara Johnson

In Memoriam: Jack Parrish

Posted by Bruce Miller
Sharing the sadness that so many in the Richmond theatre community are feeling this evening, I’m sorry to report on the passing of Jack Parrish (pictured to the right with Cathy Shaffner standing and Jan Guarino in Money Matters). Jack was an outstanding Richmond theatre artist and a longtime friend to many of us who’ve been walking these boards for a while. After a lengthy battle with lung cancer, Jack only recently went into hospice care and died this afternoon.

I met Jack in the early 70s when I was rising in the ranks of the theatre program at U of R and Jack was similarly placed in the theatre program at VCU. One of my favorite Jack memories from those early days was when he starred in a wonderful VCU production of As You Like It, I think during one of the FanFare summers. FanFare was VCU’s erstwhile summer theatre operation.

Jack moved out of town after graduating from VCU, worked a few years in New York, landed some soap opera work, and then worked mainly in regional theatre. He played Dexter Haven in The Philadelphia Story, Uncle Ernie in The Who’s Tommy, Petruchio in The Taming of the Shrew, and many other dashing roles (Jack was good at dashing). He appeared at prestigious professional theatres including The Alabama Shakespeare Festival, Asolo Theatre in Florida, and Mill Mountain Playhouse in Roanoke.

Jack returned to Richmond in the late 80s, maybe early 90s, to star at Theatre IV as the dashing spy in the classic Civil War melodrama, Secret Service. His other major Theatre IV roles were as The Man in the Yellow Suit in Tuck Everlasting, and as an unforgettable Captain Hook in Peter Pan.

At Barksdale, Jack starred in Gross Indecency: The Three Trials of Oscar Wilde, The Little Foxes, The Crucible, James Joyce’s The Dead, Scapino!, the world premiere of Money Matters, and Anything Goes.

Shortly after his foray into Cole Porter, Jack moved to Lexington KY to share a city with his great friend, Rick St. Peter, and to lead the theatre program at a local university. He returned to Richmond during the summers to star in the Henry plays at Richmond Shakespeare, having to leave his role two summers ago when he was first diagnosed and began chemotherapy.

Jack also was an acclaimed director, rallying the forces of several of Theatre IV's touring productions. His contributions to Richmond theatre are immeasurable, and he will be greatly missed. Our deepest sympathies go out to Jack’s wife, Kathy, their son, Clay, and the rest of his family.

With love and respect, Barksdale will dedicate The Grapes of Wrath, our upcoming co-production with TheatreVCU, to Jack’s abiding memory.

--Bruce Miller

Thoughts on Offending the Audience - Intro

Posted by Bruce Miller

I don’t enjoy offending people. Honestly I don’t. The graphic to the right, I've been told, is borrowed from boy's lacrosse. It's a signal that relates to "offensive screening." It was mailed to me by an audience member who wanted to remind me that what I do is potentially offensive.

I value this signal. I also increasingly buy into that old saw that says if you’re not making somebody mad, you must not be doing it right.

Offending someone is, of course, not the same thing as boring someone. Two of my favorite productions at Barksdale (The Crucible by Arthur Miller and The Lark by Jean Anouilh, adapted by Lillian Hellman) bored some members of our audience. I directed both productions.

Both plays relate to history (the Salem witch trials and the McCarthy era in the case of The Crucible, the Joan of Arc story and the McCarthy era in the case of The Lark). Both plays are politicized (we’re talking Arthur Miller and Lillian Hellman after all). Both plays are narrative and language-heavy, written by playwrights who thrive on polemics, unapologetically requiring audience members to care about the issues the playwrights care about. Both plays are long by 21st century standards—The Coast of Utopia notwithstanding.

I love(d) both plays and both productions. And I know lots of other people who do (did) too. But on different nights during the runs of both shows I found myself sitting next to John Q Public audience members who fell asleep about ten minutes into Act I, clearly bored out of their minds.

Offending someone is, of course, not the same thing as confusing someone. The Lark confused some people in addition to boring them—two, two, two mints in one. Two other personal favorites at Barksdale (James Joyce’s The Dead, written by Richard Nelson with music by Shaun Davey, and The Member of the Wedding by Carson McCullers) confused some members of our audience as well. The remarkably talented Steve Perigard and Scott Wichmann (does Richmond know how lucky it is to have these guys?), respectively, directed those two productions. They directed them beautifully.

The Lark is character and theme-driven; The Dead and The Member are both character and language-driven. Unlike most dramatic literature, these three plays are not particularly plot-driven. Take away a strong linear plot, and some people feel lost. “What the hell was that all about?” was a question I heard more than once after each of these three shows.

To me, these plays were “about” a hundred things, and I felt emotionally richer for having seen them. Again, I know lots of other people who also loved these productions.

Offending someone can be the same thing as challenging someone. Personally, I like my beliefs, feelings and thoughts to be challenged. More to the point, I need my deeply held convictions to be challenged. Unless and until they are tested, how do I know what I really value and hold dear?

But many people have different brain chemistry, I know. The minute you challenge one of their beliefs, they perceive you are heaping contempt on their innermost selves. This is never our intention. Nonetheless, they are offended.

There are scores of ways to offend audience members, but over the years it seems to me that we’ve offended people in three main arenas: language, race and sex. What different people find to be offensive interests me. And since this season seems to be offending its fair share, and, come Little Dog Laughed, promises to offend lots more, I figure now’s a good time to discuss these issues.

Part of the value of this discussion will be to organize and clarify my own thoughts. An equally important part will be to ask for and welcome your opinions.

So plug in your offendometers (I pronounce it with the emphasis on the third syllable) and get ready to rumble. Coming soon – language!

--Bruce Miller