Third Movement

Today was the third movement of Robert Blacker’s class. I received a call just moments ago from Jessica Dart who said, “Guess who just called me? Robert Blacker.” Apparently, Robert was so distressed and surprised by how the conversation went following my reading that he called Jessica merely to ask how I was doing.

I perceived the conversation to be almost wholly unhelpful, but was surprised to hear that Rachel, Jessica, and even Robert shared my feelings in this. Robert sensed an odd amount of hostility and negativity in the air of the room. He commented to Jessica that there was a general lack of “generous” comments. Even when the groundrules were laid out for people, they weren’t followed. We specifically said that we would move the conversation in a certain way, that we weren’t interested in hearing ideas on scenes that “could be written,’ and that we wanted to stay away from prescriptive comments.

We opened the conversation to the group by asking what questions people had about Lipchitz’ “journey.” One person gave a very generous comment to begin with saying that the play had taken “great strides” since the first draft. Then the next person started talking about Couturier, completely missing our direction of staying on the topic of Lipchitz. Not too long after this, one of the writers said that there should be a scene in the play in which Lipchitz and Couturier discuss their visions. So, in effect, no one really knows how to follow directions.

What can be done in a situation like this? How can you save a session full of tired, uninvolved, “alpha males” who don’t want to be in the room or commenting about this play? The only thing that kept me going was knowing that Rachel and Jessica and I were on the same page. I had two people, two supporters who knew what I wanted out of the play and out of the discussion. I found this very reassuring. Usually in Workshop, the writer is on his or her own. It’s very daunting to feel attacked by fifteen people at once and to feel as though everyone in the room is against you. I found that having a dramaturg and director attached to my play who could support me, defend me, and, most importantly, follow-up with me afterwards was what kept me going and kept me from being too defensive in the discussion.

Is there a way to implement this kind of playwright/director or playwright/dramaturg relationship into Workshop? Not only would this provide the dramaturg or director a more active role in Playwrights Workshop by bringing them into the conversation earlier, but it would allow for a support system other than the professors for the playwright. Art and Dare are always supportive, but having a person that is specifically connected to each particular project would prove beneficial.

However, there are many flaws in implementing this. For one, many of the writers don’t like to work with dramaturges early on in their processes, (which is a valid concern); two, there are too few dramaturges (or perhaps too many playwrights) in the program to allow for such one-on-one, in-depth relationships; and three, many of the plays that the writers currently bring into Workshop are first drafts that are finished on the day off the Workshop, which doesn’t allow early prep time with a dramaturg. In order to implement a dramaturg/playwright relationship, there would be a ripple through the philosophy and structure of the Workshop that might cause the dramaturges to be over-worked and the playwrights to feel “forced” into working relationships. Most of the playwrights currently in the Workshop would feel that having an assigned dramaturg to their play would be an unwelcome imposition. How can you protect someone who doesn’t want protection?