In reading these five short plays by Beckett, I am reminded how many contemporary playwrights are heavily influenced by his work. Cryptic, alternately heavy on physicality and language, Samuel Beckett has a firm grip on so many playwrights. These short plays provide valuable insight into why (and how) Beckett hypnotizes playwrights well after his death.
I wrestle with Act Without Words II more than the other plays. Upon reading Beckett’s description (and diagram) I found myself struggling to visualize all of the action. Although the play barely lasts two pages, it’s a big load to unpack. The side-by-side mime routine of A and B definitely brought to mind moments in Waiting for Godot.
I read Not I multiple times in one sitting. Something about the language, repetition, and fragmentation made me notice and miss new things every time. I began to see the start of the play as a sort of birth, a premature entry into the world. Having recently read Will Eno’s play Thom Pain (based on nothing) I was able to directly see Beckett’s stamp on Will Eno’s work. Both plays revolve around the construction of language, characters who struggle to construct a sentence. Both plays jump back and forth, remembering and forgetting. However, amidst the jumbled speech, there is a real and clear story being told. The story is of a woman (in her seventies) born premature, who was never loved, who cannot talk apart from a handful of fluke outbursts. It seems she has been the victim of some traumatic event. She has been “punished” by god. Despite her punishment she does not feel pain, just as she never felt any happiness.
The “Mouth” of the woman in Not I is searching for what her life has meant. However, there is a crucial detachment in her quest, a detachment bigger than simply mouth from body. She says that the stories she tells are not hers, in order to find the necessary distance to enable her to speak. Eno’s character in Thom Pain similarly tells an exhaustive, autobiographical story about a “boy”, but not about himself. In the worlds of these plays, one’s self is to be evaded and obscured in the hope of finding what it truly is.
Breath is arguably Beckett’s shortest play. I am not sure if Beckett wrote this play as a reaction against some ‘school’ of theatre, if he wrote it with a straight face, as an experiment, or as he wrote his longer works. I am not sure if it matters. I like that no one is onstage, and that the stage is littered with rubbish. What I like best of all is that Beckett specifies how the rubbish should lay: “No verticals, all scattered and lying.”
My favorite thing about Come and Go is how taught it is in structure, movement and language. There is no dead space, and the play completes a full and satisfying cycle in a very short amount of time. It brings to mind many of Suzan-Lori Parks’ short plays in her 365 Days/365 Plays cycle. Like Beckett’s shorts, many of her plays study a single movement, a fragment of an exchange, a sound. However, they are not devoid of structure. Like Come and Go, some of her shorts accomplish a complete and satisfying arc in less than a couple pages.
Of these short plays, Play is easily the richest in language and development. The others are notable for their sparseness, but Play feels fully-grown. The three characters (inside their urns) begin in narration, and ultimately arrive at a place of meditation. Beckett’s use of one spotlight as a punishment and invitation to speak is fascinating. It adds another character to the play, and creates a distinct relationship between light and object. Using urns to trap and frame the characters creates a distinct world, a sort of purgatory where time is a strange thing. When Beckett tells us to “Repeat Play”, I think he is asking for the play to keep going, slowly evolving and deconstructing toward some sort of natural exit.
What makes these plays great is that they are overflowing with mystery. The mystery becomes much more than just a simple puzzle to solve. It becomes a deep meditation, one that playwrights are still chasing to solve. I would expect the chase to continue for some time to come.
In reading these five short plays by Beckett, I am reminded how many contemporary playwrights are heavily influenced by his work. Cryptic, alternately heavy on physicality and language, Samuel Beckett has a firm grip on so many playwrights. These short plays provide valuable insight into why (and how) Beckett hypnotizes playwrights well after his death.
I wrestle with Act Without Words II more than the other plays. Upon reading Beckett’s description (and diagram) I found myself struggling to visualize all of the action. Although the play barely lasts two pages, it’s a big load to unpack. The side-by-side mime routine of A and B definitely brought to mind moments in Waiting for Godot.
I read Not I multiple times in one sitting. Something about the language, repetition, and fragmentation made me notice and miss new things every time. I began to see the start of the play as a sort of birth, a premature entry into the world. Having recently read Will Eno’s play Thom Pain (based on nothing) I was able to directly see Beckett’s stamp on Will Eno’s work. Both plays revolve around the construction of language, characters who struggle to construct a sentence. Both plays jump back and forth, remembering and forgetting. However, amidst the jumbled speech, there is a real and clear story being told. The story is of a woman (in her seventies) born premature, who was never loved, who cannot talk apart from a handful of fluke outbursts. It seems she has been the victim of some traumatic event. She has been “punished” by god. Despite her punishment she does not feel pain, just as she never felt any happiness.
The “Mouth” of the woman in Not I is searching for what her life has meant. However, there is a crucial detachment in her quest, a detachment bigger than simply mouth from body. She says that the stories she tells are not hers, in order to find the necessary distance to enable her to speak. Eno’s character in Thom Pain similarly tells an exhaustive, autobiographical story about a “boy”, but not about himself. In the worlds of these plays, one’s self is to be evaded and obscured in the hope of finding what it truly is.
Breath is arguably Beckett’s shortest play. I am not sure if Beckett wrote this play as a reaction against some ‘school’ of theatre, if he wrote it with a straight face, as an experiment, or as he wrote his longer works. I am not sure if it matters. I like that no one is onstage, and that the stage is littered with rubbish. What I like best of all is that Beckett specifies how the rubbish should lay: “No verticals, all scattered and lying.”
My favorite thing about Come and Go is how taught it is in structure, movement and language. There is no dead space, and the play completes a full and satisfying cycle in a very short amount of time. It brings to mind many of Suzan-Lori Parks’ short plays in her 365 Days/365 Plays cycle. Like Beckett’s shorts, many of her plays study a single movement, a fragment of an exchange, a sound. However, they are not devoid of structure. Like Come and Go, some of her shorts accomplish a complete and satisfying arc in less than a couple pages.
Of these short plays, Play is easily the richest in language and development. The others are notable for their sparseness, but Play feels fully-grown. The three characters (inside their urns) begin in narration, and ultimately arrive at a place of meditation. Beckett’s use of one spotlight as a punishment and invitation to speak is fascinating. It adds another character to the play, and creates a distinct relationship between light and object. Using urns to trap and frame the characters creates a distinct world, a sort of purgatory where time is a strange thing. When Beckett tells us to “Repeat Play”, I think he is asking for the play to keep going, slowly evolving and deconstructing toward some sort of natural exit.
What makes these plays great is that they are overflowing with mystery. The mystery becomes much more than just a simple puzzle to solve. It becomes a deep meditation, one that playwrights are still chasing to solve. I would expect the chase to continue for some time to come.
A Blog for reading responses and general discussion pertaining to the work generated in our Playwriting II class at Brown University in the Fall of 2007.
Playwriting II - LITR 0210 C
The official and utterly awesome blog for Playwriting II at Brown University in the Autumn of the year 2007.
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2 comments:
In reading these five short plays by Beckett, I am reminded how many contemporary playwrights are heavily influenced by his work. Cryptic, alternately heavy on physicality and language, Samuel Beckett has a firm grip on so many playwrights. These short plays provide valuable insight into why (and how) Beckett hypnotizes playwrights well after his death.
I wrestle with Act Without Words II more than the other plays. Upon reading Beckett’s description (and diagram) I found myself struggling to visualize all of the action. Although the play barely lasts two pages, it’s a big load to unpack. The side-by-side mime routine of A and B definitely brought to mind moments in Waiting for Godot.
I read Not I multiple times in one sitting. Something about the language, repetition, and fragmentation made me notice and miss new things every time. I began to see the start of the play as a sort of birth, a premature entry into the world. Having recently read Will Eno’s play Thom Pain (based on nothing) I was able to directly see Beckett’s stamp on Will Eno’s work. Both plays revolve around the construction of language, characters who struggle to construct a sentence. Both plays jump back and forth, remembering and forgetting. However, amidst the jumbled speech, there is a real and clear story being told. The story is of a woman (in her seventies) born premature, who was never loved, who cannot talk apart from a handful of fluke outbursts. It seems she has been the victim of some traumatic event. She has been “punished” by god. Despite her punishment she does not feel pain, just as she never felt any happiness.
The “Mouth” of the woman in Not I is searching for what her life has meant. However, there is a crucial detachment in her quest, a detachment bigger than simply mouth from body. She says that the stories she tells are not hers, in order to find the necessary distance to enable her to speak. Eno’s character in Thom Pain similarly tells an exhaustive, autobiographical story about a “boy”, but not about himself. In the worlds of these plays, one’s self is to be evaded and obscured in the hope of finding what it truly is.
Breath is arguably Beckett’s shortest play. I am not sure if Beckett wrote this play as a reaction against some ‘school’ of theatre, if he wrote it with a straight face, as an experiment, or as he wrote his longer works. I am not sure if it matters. I like that no one is onstage, and that the stage is littered with rubbish. What I like best of all is that Beckett specifies how the rubbish should lay: “No verticals, all scattered and lying.”
My favorite thing about Come and Go is how taught it is in structure, movement and language. There is no dead space, and the play completes a full and satisfying cycle in a very short amount of time. It brings to mind many of Suzan-Lori Parks’ short plays in her 365 Days/365 Plays cycle. Like Beckett’s shorts, many of her plays study a single movement, a fragment of an exchange, a sound. However, they are not devoid of structure. Like Come and Go, some of her shorts accomplish a complete and satisfying arc in less than a couple pages.
Of these short plays, Play is easily the richest in language and development. The others are notable for their sparseness, but Play feels fully-grown. The three characters (inside their urns) begin in narration, and ultimately arrive at a place of meditation. Beckett’s use of one spotlight as a punishment and invitation to speak is fascinating. It adds another character to the play, and creates a distinct relationship between light and object. Using urns to trap and frame the characters creates a distinct world, a sort of purgatory where time is a strange thing. When Beckett tells us to “Repeat Play”, I think he is asking for the play to keep going, slowly evolving and deconstructing toward some sort of natural exit.
What makes these plays great is that they are overflowing with mystery. The mystery becomes much more than just a simple puzzle to solve. It becomes a deep meditation, one that playwrights are still chasing to solve. I would expect the chase to continue for some time to come.
-max
In reading these five short plays by Beckett, I am reminded how many contemporary playwrights are heavily influenced by his work. Cryptic, alternately heavy on physicality and language, Samuel Beckett has a firm grip on so many playwrights. These short plays provide valuable insight into why (and how) Beckett hypnotizes playwrights well after his death.
I wrestle with Act Without Words II more than the other plays. Upon reading Beckett’s description (and diagram) I found myself struggling to visualize all of the action. Although the play barely lasts two pages, it’s a big load to unpack. The side-by-side mime routine of A and B definitely brought to mind moments in Waiting for Godot.
I read Not I multiple times in one sitting. Something about the language, repetition, and fragmentation made me notice and miss new things every time. I began to see the start of the play as a sort of birth, a premature entry into the world. Having recently read Will Eno’s play Thom Pain (based on nothing) I was able to directly see Beckett’s stamp on Will Eno’s work. Both plays revolve around the construction of language, characters who struggle to construct a sentence. Both plays jump back and forth, remembering and forgetting. However, amidst the jumbled speech, there is a real and clear story being told. The story is of a woman (in her seventies) born premature, who was never loved, who cannot talk apart from a handful of fluke outbursts. It seems she has been the victim of some traumatic event. She has been “punished” by god. Despite her punishment she does not feel pain, just as she never felt any happiness.
The “Mouth” of the woman in Not I is searching for what her life has meant. However, there is a crucial detachment in her quest, a detachment bigger than simply mouth from body. She says that the stories she tells are not hers, in order to find the necessary distance to enable her to speak. Eno’s character in Thom Pain similarly tells an exhaustive, autobiographical story about a “boy”, but not about himself. In the worlds of these plays, one’s self is to be evaded and obscured in the hope of finding what it truly is.
Breath is arguably Beckett’s shortest play. I am not sure if Beckett wrote this play as a reaction against some ‘school’ of theatre, if he wrote it with a straight face, as an experiment, or as he wrote his longer works. I am not sure if it matters. I like that no one is onstage, and that the stage is littered with rubbish. What I like best of all is that Beckett specifies how the rubbish should lay: “No verticals, all scattered and lying.”
My favorite thing about Come and Go is how taught it is in structure, movement and language. There is no dead space, and the play completes a full and satisfying cycle in a very short amount of time. It brings to mind many of Suzan-Lori Parks’ short plays in her 365 Days/365 Plays cycle. Like Beckett’s shorts, many of her plays study a single movement, a fragment of an exchange, a sound. However, they are not devoid of structure. Like Come and Go, some of her shorts accomplish a complete and satisfying arc in less than a couple pages.
Of these short plays, Play is easily the richest in language and development. The others are notable for their sparseness, but Play feels fully-grown. The three characters (inside their urns) begin in narration, and ultimately arrive at a place of meditation. Beckett’s use of one spotlight as a punishment and invitation to speak is fascinating. It adds another character to the play, and creates a distinct relationship between light and object. Using urns to trap and frame the characters creates a distinct world, a sort of purgatory where time is a strange thing. When Beckett tells us to “Repeat Play”, I think he is asking for the play to keep going, slowly evolving and deconstructing toward some sort of natural exit.
What makes these plays great is that they are overflowing with mystery. The mystery becomes much more than just a simple puzzle to solve. It becomes a deep meditation, one that playwrights are still chasing to solve. I would expect the chase to continue for some time to come.
-max
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