"My party is full of racists."

One Republican, at least, has spoken the truth.

David Mamet, the art of the con, and the M.V. (Part 2)

Ken Cheeseman and Cliff Odle wonder if they're up to the eightieth page yet at the New Rep.

I can tell you precisely the moment I gave up on David Mamet's Race; it's the moment when one character describes a hot night in Bermuda as like being "inside a big black c--nt."

You could almost hear Mamet giggling over that one; he got to say the c-word!  (Jeez, Mom would kill him if she knew!)

But all I could think was, "Why not go for it, Dave?  Why not n--gg--r c--nt, too?  Hmmm?"

After a moment, however, I realized - no, Mr. Mamet had chosen precisely the slur he wanted; he wasn't really interested in a double whammy.  For Race, despite its moniker, isn't really about racism - not his own, not his audience's, not anybody's. It's about sexism.  Or rather - it is sexism, kind of "personified," if you will.  It is the thing itself.

Oh, I know, everyone huffs and puffs throughout the play about racial grievances; much of the script - like so many these days! - is basically a lecture delivered by the playwright through transparent mouthpieces: two law partners, one white and one black, who've seen it all and want to tell the walls (or at least the fourth wall) all about it.  But what do these two really have to say?  Not much; indeed, near the top of the script, Mamet admits "a white man has nothing to tell a black man about race" (a paraphrase).  And he seems to mean it.  Okay - so why are you still talking, white man?


Well, so he can grind his axe yet again about political correctness (as opposed to racism) to his putative audience onstage: a wealthy, older, white client who has been accused of raping a black woman.  Needless to say, he's willing to listen to Mamet's tired "liberalism is a con" rant, but he's also pretty creepy in general - still, he might be innocent.  By that I hardly mean the sex in question was "consensual" in the usual meaning of the term: money, or favors, or something was changing hands, in one way or another, we imagine - and as the assault occurred in a hotel room, with the victim clothed in a red-sequined dress - well, let's just say the lawyers have quite a bit to work with when it comes to defense strategy.

They protest otherwise, of course.  To them, racial sensitivities have made this case an open-and-shut loser.  And many would agree that political correctness has made battling this kind of accusation an uphill battle.  The tables have turned to some degree, in some arenas, on those in the ruling class.   The fix used to be in one way, now it's in another.

Still, this case hardly seems hopeless; and many a lawyer would be drawn to its challenges simply because they touch on so many political fault lines, and revolve around such a high-profile client.  Win or lose, this is the kind of case from which a skillful lawyer can emerge as a freshly-minted media player.  After all, Dominique Strauss-Kahn beat the charges against him - for it turned out he may have been set up (his horrifying behaviors quickly tripped him up again, of course).  And I didn't see any lawyers running from that case.  So the reluctance of Mamet's lawyers to take the job hardly seems realistic, much less up-to-the-minute.

But then Race isn't set in reality, it's set in Mametland, where the island of Bermuda is "in the Caribbean" (?), and postcards zip through the mails with the c-word printed on them (back in the 80's, no less!). What's more, this artificial construct (I won't  call it a play) is about as concerned with what is usually called "plot" as it is with reality: we never even meet the alleged victim, the scene of the crime is barely described, and there's nothing like an investigation of the facts of the case.  After all, that would mean Mamet would have to conjure more characters, develop a structure - so much work!  Who has that kind of time?

Luckily, once again the "Magic Vagina" (that's "M.V." from now on) comes to Mamet's rescue!   We've met the Mamet M.V. before - in Speed-the-Plow, Oleanna and elsewhere - and as I detailed in the previous post of this series, she not only serves as a projection of the playwright's paranoia, but also saves him most of the time and effort of actually writing a play.  She makes no sense at all as a "character" - with a consistent back-story, interior life, and arc - but as a plot device, she can't be beat.  If the play needs one more twist, the M.V. is happy to connive for no apparent reason; when it requires a climactic confrontation, she will return conveniently to the scene of the crime; when the dénouement demands a confession, she suddenly supplies it!  Whew!  The M.V. is basically the Ronco Pocket Plot-O-Matic for lazy playwrights!

The only problem with this sphinx-like crazy lady is that she's just not convincing as she drives the action with her covert actions (while the putative "plot" is hashed and re-hashed on stage).  Take the M.V. of Race, for instance, who is named Susan (not that it matters; she could be named "X") - a young black woman of few words from an Ivy League law school, who clearly has a chip on her shoulder about, you know, race and stuff, but clearly is suppressing it for the sake of her career.   From this we expect her to be smart, subtle, and always under control.

And yet, over the course of the play she basically commits professional suicide by undermining and destroying her client's case in a manner that begins with the improbable (she tricks her partners into taking his case) and quickly lifts off into the purest fantasy (she tampers with evidence, and divulges the firm's strategy to the D.A.).  Now trust me, I know the P.C. crowd - and I agree Mamet's right to call them out for ignoring facts and bulldozing the discourse - BUT - and this is key - they always do it to their own advantage.  They are careerists, not martyrs.

Ken Cheeseman tries to talk sense to Mamet's puppet (Miranda Craigwell).  Photos by Andrew Brilliant.

Susan, however, commits professional suicide without a second thought.  Yes, I know, Mamet floats a flimsy legal shield for her behavior - the firm investigated her background when she applied, which they didn't do to white applicants; so Susan could threaten a lawsuit if they retaliate for her actions.  But this is hardly enough to cover her you-know-what from all the professional fall-out of her betrayals.  Her partners may not fire or sue her, but lawyers do talk - and then there's the D.A.'s office . . . by the curtain, basically she's toast as a practicing attorney.

Of course Susan makes no sense internally anyhow, so it's pointless to wonder at her motives; but as a puppet, she has her function: she is designed as the Outsider, the Other, who attacks, and is then rejected by, Mamet's masculine community (so ironically enough, even as Mamet imagines he is skewering P.C. orthodoxy, he is actually unconsciously validating it, as he dramatizes women almost as a Nazi might dramatize a Jew).  Thus in Race, the testosterone brotherhood is able to resolve its differences and atone for its sins - partners Jack and Henry, after all, are now joined at the hip, and utterly loyal; and together, in a pivotal scene, they make Charles, their client, realize that he has, indeed, behaved in a patronizingly racist way to another man - to a brother.

But as for the sisters - well, Susan circles this heart-to-heart like a vulture, but cannot enter it; indeed, we realize later she has actually already engineered Charles's downfall - or at least his self-immolation.  For once the scales have fallen from his eyes, he trots right over to the D.A. and confesses, in a sudden spasm of expiation.

We never learn, though, whether he actually committed the crime he has "confessed" to - just as we never learn what could be driving Susan to ruin her own career.  Just as we never learn what made the other woman in question - the victim - accuse Charles in the first place.  We never really learn anything, in fact, except that David Mamet has now written eighty pages, and so the curtain must fall.

I will say, however, that even given the limits of this script (its appeal is confined to some pretty good race-based stand-up early on), the New Rep cast, under the direction of Robert Walsh, didn't get as far as they might have (with one big exception).  The Broadway cast was famously restricted by Mamet's stated intent to flatten their performances (I'm not kidding), but lead James Spader at least managed to sneak some intriguing subtexts into his big scenes.  The New Rep version, by comparison, is far more expressive and flamboyant, but arguably more superficial (although the sleek stage design, by Janie E. Howland, was quite a bit better than Santo Loquasto's boring set on Broadway).  As lead lawyer Jack, Ken Cheeseman nailed all his laughs like a pro - and that's nothing to sneeze at - but never suggested any real sexual (or racial) tensions with Susan; meanwhile, as best bud Henry, Cliff Odle was likewise funny, but didn't manage to suggest any sense of scarred history with his partner.  Meanwhile poor Miranda Craigwell did what she could with Susan, but in the end came off as a poised and intelligent actress saddled with a terrible part.

The surprise here was Patrick Shea as Charles, that client from hell.  Mr. Shea has been acting in Boston since forever in Shear Madness, which has generally kept him off our other stages.  And more's the pity; he brings a complexity - even a twisted sympathy - to Charles that isn't even in the script.  For evidence that a great actor can transform a mediocre role, you need look no further than this production.  With all due respect to Madness, let's hope this isn't the last time we see Mr. Shea outside of a hair salon!

Race on Boston's stages, Part I

The young Paul Robeson. Eighty years after his Othello, it's still rare to see an African-American, Latino or Asian Hamlet, Lear or Macbeth.

This is the first in what I hope will be a series of conversations devoted to questions of race in the Boston theatre.  In this post, I will be sharing space with my IRNE colleague Beverly Creasey, who covers theatre on her own blog, the Boston Arts Review (which, btw, you should read regularly). I asked Beverly to engage in this dialogue as I felt she could offer a unique perspective on issues that have become top-of-mind again for the community after a spirited forum at last summer’s Theatre Communication Group conference, and the announcement of a “Diversity/Inclusion/Gender Parity Task Force” initiative by StageSource.  So without further ado -

TG: Now Beverly, you've been involved in what has been called "non-traditional" casting for a long time – maybe since its beginnings; you were one of the first advocates for the practice locally. I can remember when critics like Arthur Friedman of the Herald used to question in print whether actors of color could convincingly play “white” roles, so I appreciate your pioneering work.  But tell me a little bit more about your efforts in this area, and how you feel the casting situation has changed in Boston.

BC: Well, for a little background on “Non-Traditional Casting” (NTC): In 1986 the Theater Communications Group (TCG) did a study which revealed an appalling pattern of exclusion for a lot of Americans in what was supposed to be their own theatre. Something like 90% of the professional productions in the U.S were cast with Caucasian actors. The TCG then began an initiative to promote access to non-white actors and actors with disabilities so that casting people would see the possibilities (and advantages) of hiring/casting Chekhov or Shakespeare or Wilde with actors who reflect who we all are. (Imagine the resonance of a physically challenged actor ruminating on his disabilities as Richard III, or a black actor in Chekhov discussing serfdom – i.e., slavery. Thanks to NTC, I have seen both.)

So I worked with TCG on a Boston conference and then ran the Boston NTC file (of actors, playwrights, directors, tech people etc.) until it was adopted by StageSource as their "unity file." This was essentially before Internet access. Now you can go to the StageSource website and pull up the "actors of color" file. I know it's hard now to believe that this was even an issue, because today most of Boston's theaters cast non-traditionally – to some extent - as a matter of course. So NTC has been an unqualified success. The excuse used by theaters back in the day to exclude actors of color was always some variant of "We cast the best actor for the role," which of course was code for "the best white actor” – meaning trained at the right school, familiar with the right people, more acceptable to the subscription audience, etc. I thought that excuse was a thing of the past!


TG: The bottom line then is that the situation slowly improved for actors of color, and there seemed to be a new understanding among casting directors – that many roles, particularly classical ones, were much more widely castable than (white) theatrical tradition had dictated. But recently you’ve seen some casting decisions that have disturbed you, can you tell me more about that?

BC: Well, this past year I've noticed something disturbing recurring several times. (I see about 200 small and large theater productions a year). I've seen repeated instances of the casting of white actors in parts either specified for, or originated by, actors of color, like the “Brother” role in Songs for a New World.

TG: So in an ironic twist, you began to see casting of white people in those few roles that had long been reserved for actors of color.

BC: Exactly. Even though it's absurd to hear a white man singing/talking about being black. Which by the way, has happened twice to Jason Robert Brown's Songs. Two different productions in less than a year!

TG: Maybe we should re-title that one Songs for a White World . . .

BC: What are these people thinking? They didn't even have the sense to change the lines and take out the ethnic references! It also happened to A Chorus Line this summer, at a big Equity company that has often cast nationally - a white actress played the role of the Asian-American dancer (who even talks about being stereotyped!!). I asked why this was the case and was told they “couldn't find anyone." Now this has been quite a year for Asian-American women on the stage and just off the top of my head (without consulting StageSource) I can name four local actresses. So the real answer is they didn't try very hard. They didn't go to StageSource. They didn't call me. There aren't many roles out there for actors of color, so doesn't it seem cruel to take away the few opportunities there are? A critic wryly suggested to me that this is just turnabout-fair-play for Non-Traditional Casting - I would have let out a blood-curdling scream, but we were in a theater at the time.

TG: Hmmm - was that critic me? (Thanks for not screaming, btw). But seriously, just to play devil's advocate for a minute - I'm wondering if we could pursue the reasoning behind that excuse a little further, and either find the flaw in it, or begin to at least better understand it. For if actors of color are now being represented on many, if not most, Boston stages, doesn't the urgency of non-traditional casting somewhat diminish? And doesn't that mean that the very logic of NTC can be flip-flopped (sorry, Governor Romney) in some cases? I mean last time I checked, just about every actor I know was looking for work, not just the actors of color! And don't casting directors work with networks of people they know and trust, who inevitably often reflect their own experience and ethnicity?

But at this point I'd like to take a break - Beverly and I (along with, I hope, other members of the Boston theatre community) will chew on those arguments further in the next post in this ongoing series.

(To be continued . . .)

Just in case you thought your kids weren't racists . . .

You normally don't think of Twitter as a hotbed of racism, but tweets in response to the hit movie The Hunger Games have revealed an ugly underside to the twitterverse.  It seems many young audience members were shocked, shocked to discover that characters they'd identified with on paper (without, apparently, reading along too carefully - the characters' races are mentioned in the text) were not, actually, the blonde, blue-eyed Aryans of their dreams.

Sigh.  These kinds of tweets, from these kinds of twits, do make you wonder about the true nature of many millennials, and whether "education" can ever reach them.

For part of what's interesting about The Hunger Games - beyond the fact that it's a blatant rip-off of Battle Royale (how 'bout some Asian heroes, tweeters of America?) is how relentlessly P.C. it is.  Yet racism has somehow enveloped it anyhow - it was willfully misread by its audience (and not only in private, either - there have been reports of shocked responses occurring at the theatre, during the movie).

I'm not sure what this means, and I'm not sure what it means for the earnest, heavy hand of political correctness that bears down on much of our entertainment culture.  For it seems that in private, kids are turning into racists all on their own - but does that mean the P.C. police should have more power, or less?

For can anything reach these types?  Alas, these tweets suggest a situation in which many millennials bow and scrape to anti-racism in public, but in the pseudo-privacy of Twitter, reveal another sort of behavior, and a very different attitude.  Which means, I'm afraid, that there's a kind of a sick comedy to many of these tweets.  I do wonder, for instance - is there some connection in the brain between racism and poor spelling?  And I do love that "Awkward moment" tweet - oh my God, a black character!  Awk-ward!  Apparently so - but awkward for whom, and why?

When is a terrorist not a terrorist?

In one of the most embarrassingly unconscious self-accusations in recent memory, Newsweek weighs in on why Joe Stack, the guy who flew his plane into an IRS building, was "not a terrorist" here. The brilliant Glen Greenwald tears Newsweek a new one here. Over at Mother Jones, Kevin Drum teases out a possible argument that Stack doesn't qualify as a terrorist: his gripes against "the system" were too crackpot to qualify as political justification for what was, obviously, a terrorist act. Your mileage may vary on that one, but for me it's Drum's argument that doesn't quite qualify as a political justification for not calling Stack a terrorist.

Meanwhile Mark P. Shea wonders aloud, "Why aren't we waterboarding Joe Stack's daughter right now?" After all, she called her dad "a hero," and she certainly could be connected to the crazy-tea-baggin' underbelly of American culture. What does she know, and when did she know it? Charles Krauthammer, what's your opinion?

[Update: It turns out Stack's daughter moved to Norway some years ago. Make that high-tax, but almost all-white, Norway.]

Taken together, all this "debate" does begin to get at a central question about those who support torture in this country, which is: are they racist, consciously or unconsciously? What does it mean when we're so reluctant to call a crazed white man who flies his plane into a building a terrorist? Why is waterboarding his white daughter so completely out of the question for these people? In other words, is support for torture really a form of racism? Newsweek editors, discuss among yourselves!

It may already be starting . . .

After posting Katie Couric's accusations of sexism in the media, I thought it only fair to publish an image of buttons recently sold at the Texas State Republican Convention. I said in my post on Katie that the U.S. had behaved in a more sexist than racist fashion during the Hillary/Obama dust-up. But that of course could change . . .

Boston mourns beloved racist homophobe

Awww, you gotta love him - if you didn't, you'd throw up.

Well, we can finally ring down the curtain on Albert "Dapper" O'Neil, the "crusty" Boston pol whose act depended on an implied war between the poor, freckled Irish family in Southie who only needed a free turkey to make their little Christmas bright, and the unwashed hordes of women, blacks, gays and lesbians with evil designs on said bird. O'Neill's last, wackily finest hour, I suppose, was his crazed opposition to the Robert Mapplethorpe show at the ICA some years back. I still remember the photo the Globe appended to its article on the show's eventual opening - of "Dapper" himself closely inspecting a photo of a half-clothed young boy. At the time, it seemed like a hilariously po-faced nod to the rumors whispered in the gay community about O'Neil's own sexuality (rumors being repeated these days about another major Boston cultural figure). Needless to say, "Dapper" never married - although he "dated" the same woman all his life. Uh-huh. Now before you say it, do I have any proof that "Dapper" was cut from the same cloth as Representative Foley, Senator Craig, and the many conservative queens who've been tripped up in their hypocritical pumps over the last few years? No, I don't - but it seems likely, doesn't it? And why can't we simply discuss its likelihood? And why do beloved, conservative Irish pols always seem to be drunks, or have murderers for brothers, or are rumored to be gay trolls? (I'm asking that as an Irishman myself.) Isn't there some Irish Mitt Romney out there, who's merely a bland control freak who ducks his religion's former racism? Sheesh.