A Brief Review of Subject Matter

SUBJECT: A summary recap of the playwrights, theorists, and production work we've covered over the fall semester, 2006

Week 1 - Modernism & Postmodernism; Moulin Rouge; Melodrama
Week 2 - Melodrama & the Well-Made Play; A Doll House; Lawrence Levine on Shakespeare in America in the 19th Century (from Highbrow/Lowbrow)
Week 3 - Henrik Ibsen; Rosmersholm; The Lady from the Sea
Week 4 - Realism; August Strindberg; Miss Julie; the Preface to Miss Julie
Week 5 - Naturalism; Anton Chekhov; The Cherry Orchard; Brian Friel's Lovers
Week 6 - Expressionism; August Strindberg's The Ghost Sonata; Eugene O'Neill's The Hairy Ape
Week 7 - Paula Vogel, How I Learned to Drive
Week 8 - Antonin Artaud; Theatre of Cruelty and Artaudian Theory
Week 9 - Political Theatre and the Federal Theatre Project; Cradle Will Rock and Blitzstein's The Cradle Will Rock
Week 10 - Bertolt Brecht; Brechtian Theory and Practice; Galileo
Week 11 - Minimalism: Samuel Beckett's Endgame and Harold Pinter's Betrayal
Week 12 - Broadway; Sunday in the Park with George
Week 13 - August Wilson; Fences
Week 14 - Postmodernism & Modernism; Tom Stoppard's Arcadia

Introduction (Fall 2006)

Welcome to the blog-based on-line discussion area for THEA 143, Development of Dramatic Art II, taught at Austin College in the Fall of 2006. This blog is designed to address issues and ideas relating to the history of theatre from the 19th century to the present day.

I'd like to establish several basic rules for the discussion:

(a) maintain respect for all participants at all times; when you wish to argue, make your point substantively, and be sure that you have made every attempt to understand the original post to the best of your ability;

(b) stay on topic; any and all connections are welcome (and on many browsers, you can include these connections in the form of hyperlinks or images), so long as they ultimately connect to the subject or discussion at hand;

(c) if you are a student in the course, BE SURE to keep a BACKUP COPY of any and all posts that you make; I would suggest that you compose your remarks in a word processor and simply paste them into blogger, as this host cannot guarantee the safety of data posted to its site;

(d) cite absolutely any and all sources for quoted or paraphrased material.

We'll make up the rest as we go along. Enjoy!

Brainstorming Presentation Topics

SUBJECT: Some suggestions on presentation #2

The purpose of the second presentation (a group presentation) is to address some significant theory, practitioner, or movement in 20th century (or contemporary) theatre in sufficient detail that the class can (a) obtain some sense of that theory or artist's significance to theatre history and (b) retain a clear sense of what might be of interest to them for further research and why.

The suggestions I propose here should not be approached comprehensively, but rather as the starting points for research. The presentations themselves should make a point of being selective and concise, illustrating through concrete and specific examples a key segment of the larger subject.

For example, a presentation on Psychological Realism (or the Stanislavsky System) would be best focused on a particular practitioner, teacher, actor, or the method itself, but not all of these; hence, any one presentation should NOT attempt to describe both Stanislavsky's life AND his system. It would be quite sufficient to try to articulate the system itself - particularly since that system changed over the course of Stanislavsky's career.

Choose a subject that interests you sufficiently that you and your collaborators will have reason to make yourselves (within the span of time available) experts.

Some suggestions (specific examples are not comprehensive or exclusive):

Particular directors (e.g. Anne Bogart, Trevor Nunn, JoAnne Akalaitis)
Particular artist/theorists (e.g. Peter Brook, Eugenio Barba, Augusto Boal)
Particular teachers (Jerzy Grotowski, Sanford Meisner, Stella Adler)
Genres (Performance Art, Political satire, Farce, Improv)
Venues (Vaudeville, Burlesque, The Little Theatre movement, Regional theatres)
Trends (Historical reconstruction, interpretations of Shakespeare, marketing schemes)
Innovations (psychology and theatre, computers and theatre, virtual reality)
Technology (theatre design, architecture, lighting/sound control)
Business (government funding, corporate sponsorship, audience response/development)
Government (censorship, national theatres, agitprop)
Culture (theatre of cultural/racial identity, cultural appropriation)

I realize I've thrown the doors wide open - the range of choices may seem overwhelming. I'm more than happy to discuss prospects with you to help you narrow your focus considerably.

The Music Man and . . . Marxism?

Having been in a production of The Music Man, I'm inclined to say that my position is a little biased. Having to sing "76 Trombones" over and over and over again with a cast that on the whole isn't *that* musically inclined can take its toll on a person. And yet, while watching it, I couldn't help but start to softly sing along with some of the tunes, and all night long when I got home I had "Till There Was You" stuck on repeat in my head.

What, really, is there to like about The Music Man, or just musicals in general? Stripped of the oh-so-realistic song and dance numbers, we've got a swindler who comes into a small town, gets everyone's money for a band he won't teach, seduces the only person in town he knows will out him, and at the end when he's exposed . . . he still has his money! I mean, okay, he did bring the Buffalo Bills - I mean, the schooboard together, and he finally made the spitting Ronny How- sorry, I mean Winthrop talk, and I guess he did get Marian to come out of her shell and go the footbridge (the hussy!), and he did give that hoodlum Tommy a purpose in life (to get it on with the mayor's daughter through the use of his big conductor's stick), and also generally uplifted the spirits of all the River City-ziens . . . but does that really make him a good guy? Well, apparently so. At least thats what Hollywood would have us believe.

Now, re-insert the song and dance numbers and it transforms this story into one great big, laughable, hug-fest. It's okay that the citizens of River City are had by Harold Hill, because man! has he got style! He's not really a swindler, he's just . . . charming and over-enthusiastic. Of course, all the trouble in town can be fixed by a marching band! Why didn't I think of that before?

There's only one explaination: false conciousness. Movie producers (and, by extension, any financial backer) want to distract the masses. All of the bad things that Harold HIll does are tinted rose-colored by the glare of the spectacle. We can forgive him, because he really is charming. You *want* to believe what he says (casting on his part, was excellent). Song and dance make light of the naughtiness. The audacity of what Harold Hill is doing is undermined by the general happiness of all the songs.

Two main messages recieved are "hey, forget about your problems, look at all the shiny pretty things here!" and "bad things can happen to good people, but they can all be fixed by breaking out into song - it could happen to you, too!" Theres really a lot of crap going on in the world, and musicals are a nice, *effective* way of presenting the problems as solvable. Are there any musicals that don't end happily? Really, are there? Don't get me wrong, I adore musicals, and I would even put myself through The Music Man again. They just don't have much other purpose than being a happy distraction.

On Musicals

SUBJECT: The Music Man

Stephen Sondheim's work, particularly the award-winning Sunday in the Park with George, continues to draw admiration from the critical and scholarly community as well as the public.

The intellectual and aesthetic value of an American classic - which continues to make its rounds of community theatres and high school stages, as well as a recent, successful Broadway revival - might not seem as self-evident. After all, Meredith Willson's The Music Man can seem like an unreflective paean to parochial small-town American life, not unlike Our Town. The Broadway revival certainly counted on nostalgia to draw its audience (like so many Broadway revivals!), and it's becoming impossible to even see the film any more without having to penetrate so many folds of Hollywood's self-reminiscent wrapping. (When I was growing up, the film would be shown on TV every year around the 4th of July - an annual television event, like The Wizard of Oz and It's a Wonderful Life.)

So what do you make of this musical? Is it substantive, or fluff? Is its strength in its ability to entertain and engage an audience? Does it aspire to any higher goal than simply telling a story with a moral? Is there poignancy in this play? Or is it a vehicle for catchy songs? What is this musical for? Why do it? Why see it?

Consider (for your meditations, if you like, and certainly for class discussion) whether this show is typical of the American Broadway musical, and how. More to the point, consider whether there is anything worthwhile to be had in watching "Seventy-Six Trombones," or in talking about it. I suspect there is ... what do you think?

Yerma's Sudden Ending

Yerma was interesting because, as Christopher Maurer says in the introduction, "nothing happens (p. x)." The plot can be summarized - and not even in much oversimplification - as Yerma constantly bemoaning her lack of child to her unsympathetic husband until she suddenly - and somewhat anticlimactically - kills him. The ending itself, in the last five minutes is where any actual action seems to be, and it is the death of Juan.

I have mixed feelings about this ending because while I think that it embodies the despair and frustration that Yerma feels, it happens so suddenly and without much, if any, resolving event (for the play ends simply a paragraph after Juan's death) that I feel almost like I'm left hanging. It feels like something else should happen.

At the same time, I can see that leaving the audience in that sort of limbo where Yerma's actions cannot be changed, is evidence of Yerma's concluding remark: "I myself have killed my own son! (p. 188)" There will be no resolution to her conflict of wanting a child, now that Juan is dead.

Maybe I just don't like unhappy - or at least unresolved - endings, and that’s definitely the ending that Yerma has.

Betrayal and Endgame

Throughout my reading of Betrayal, all I could think about was how it seemed like a more realistic representation of Endgame. The settings were different, and the content of the dialogue was different, but all in all, they were very similar.

The pauses in the stage directions are the most obvious likenesses. Both Pinter and Beckett want their characters to communicate just as much, if not more, through their silences, as through the words they speak. While descerning meaning behind Beckett's silences can be difficult because of the almost nonsensical flow of conversation and pretty much barren plot, Pinter's silences in Betrayal are loaded with memories and unspoken suspicions and accusations. Admittedly, there is not much of a plot to Betrayal either, but at least the relationships between the characters are more defined, and the setting is relatable. The first scene places Jerry and Emma, former lovers, meeting together after several years apart. The conversation is slow and polite. The pauses that fill the dialogue can be used by the actors to generate a variety of emotions; awkwardness, perhaps, or regret, or nosalgia.

Another likeness to Endgame is the simplistic set. Beckett calls specifically for a bare room with two window, and little else. Pinter is concerned more with the action between the characters than with their surroundings. Each scene begins with a very brief description of the surroundings: "Scene Two. Jerry's House. Study. 1977. Spring (p. 13)." Pinter doesn't give any indication as to what Jerry's study might look like, but leaves that decision up to the director. The set could be elaborate or sparse, but by leaving out any specifics, Pinter shows that his concern is with the characters.

Betrayal also has few characters; Endgame consisted only of four. Pinter limits the dialogue to the three involved with the love-triangle he describes: Jerry, Emma, and Robert. This too, is important: Pinter is not concerned with any outsider's opinion of the affair between Jerry and Emma. Does Jerry's wife have suspicions? If Robert was having affairs, then perhaps Jerry's wife is too, and everyone is playing everybody. Do Robert's partners know that he is married? All of these viewpoints are excluded because he wants the focus to be on only these three.

On Galileo

For background information on the life of Galileo, click this entry's title to link to the Wikipedia entry on the famed astronomer. You can also simply enter this address into your browser: "http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Galileo_Galilei".

Galileo: Ill-Suited

Brechtian style emphasized the verfremdungseffekt, or the alienation effect which called for actors to withhold themselves from fully becoming their characters. As a part of allowing the audience to see the show as a show, or allowing them to “see the frame” of the production, actors were instructed to perform in a manner that “conveyed the awareness of being a performer rather than the involvement of being a character (p. 833).” However, upon reading Galileo, I couldn’t help but feel that many aspects of this play seemed to be written in a manner that invited a more emotionally involved cast.

The introduction states that Brecht intended to condemn the character of Galileo for his betrayal to science (p. 835). However, Galileo is written as such a multifaceted character, that I cannot see how one wouldn’t feel pity for him. The scientist is fairly carefree in his scientific pursuits at the beginning of the play, energetically jumping into any experiment that catches his fancy. We see early on, though, that he is not above altering his findings (such as his “discovery” of the telescope (p. 839), in exchange for his funding. And at the end we see that he regrets having given his recantation when he says, “ I have come to believe that I was never in real danger; for some years I was as strong as the authorities, and I surrendered my knowledge to the powers that be, to use it, no, not use it, abuse it, as it suits their ends. I have betrayed my profession (p. 859).” This statement and the setting of his lonely, blind, imprisonment provokes pity from the observer.

The stage directions as well, from certain movements of characters, to the opening set-up of a scene are also more suited to a production that would strive to ensnare their audience; in essence, immerse them in what they are seeing. In particular, the scene with the street performers (p. 852), has such detailed stage directions for the extras, that, were they to all be followed precisely, it would feel more like the audience had been dropped into a Venetian street corner, rather than watching the portrayal of one on stage. Such detail, to myself, seems indicative of an understanding of personal motives and emotion of the characters, which Brechtian style does not ignore, but tries to separate itself from. This is doubly accentuated when it is even the lesser, extra characters that are given such direction.

Play Selections 1

SUBJECT: Presentation #1 (On plays not on our syllabus)

So far, I've received two proposals and accepted both:

Jeremy Saenz: The Foreigner by Larry Shue
Michael Brahce: Our Town by Thornton Wilder

Please note that your presentation should address the significance of the playwright, if only in passing, as well as the significance and value of the play.

I look forward to future submissions.

~ The Cap'n

Antonin Artaud

In his essay “No More Masterpieces,” Artaud proposes the idea of a “theatre of cruelty (p. 1689);” a theatre that would “treat the spectators like the snakechamer’s subjects and conduct them by means of their organisms to an apprehension of the subtlest notions (p. 1689).”

I really like this idea of a “visceral” theatre. Watching a show and experiencing a show are two completely different things; this is a main concept behind Artaud’s “theatre of cruelty.” He wants the audience to be in the center of the spectacle, and he wants to spectacle itself to be so strong that the audience will literally be shaken to its core. Artaud also says that the sensations that the audience should experience should have a sort of violence to them because “it summons up supernatural images, a bloodstream of images, a bleeding spurt of images in the poet’s head and in the spectator’s as well (p. 1690).”

I think this is possible without blatant violence; One Flea Spare had some pretty visceral moments, such as the orange scene, or the doll-burning scene. Even the close seating helped create the “experience-“ you couldn’t get away from the scenes in front of you.

One Flea Spare: Orange-gasm

The thing I remember most from the production of One Flea Spare is the smell of the orange. Two seconds after Bunce shoves the orange on to Mr. Snelgrave’s finger, the sweet smell hit me. I felt this was extremely powerful, because of the sexual imagery of Snelgrave’s finger in the wet fruit that was literally dripping on the floor.

Seeing a production on stage is always much more interesting than, say, film or in text, because it’s a 3-D experience. But when all the senses are engaged, its even better. You couldn’t help but feel like you were in Snelgrave’s place, with the overwhelming scent of the orange surrounding you. And while the audience couldn’t feel the wet stickiness, we heard the juice falling to the ground, and we had an indication of just how juicy this orange was.

Bunce’s intense stare at this moment, was also extremely effective in communicating the intimate nature of this act. The air seemed to thicken while he stared at the stuttering Snelgrave. Talk about intimacy.

The Cherry Orchard: Joys and Sorrows

If The Cherry Orchard were stripped down to its basic plot, it would be a very sad story. The mistress of the house, Mrs. Ranevsky, returns home after having spent several disreputable and eventually penniless years abroad, because her beloved childhood home is being auctioned off due to the family’s inability to pay its bills. Mrs. Ranevsky makes no real effort to save her estate, and thus it is eventually bought by a family friend, Lopakhin, to be leveled and leased out in pieces. The family members all relocate, but the faithful family servant is forgotten and left to die. In the midst of this tragic plot, however, Chekhov inserts a multitude of comic characters and moments. The characters of Charlotte, whose sole purpose seems to be entertainment for the family, the slightly narcoleptic and easily surprised Pishchik, clumsy Yepikhadov, and the eternally bored and impertinent Yasha, are all secondary characters who lighten the scenes with their antics. Even more central characters take part in the comedy; Gayev’s oft-repeated “Pot the red in the middle (p. 674)!” adds a likeable quirkiness to his character, and Mrs. Ranevsky’s penchant for giving away money despite her poverty, is laughable even while it is frustrating to watch. Even after her home is sold and she is preparing to leave, this unfortunate habit pops up again, in a quick on-stage-off-stage exchange:
“Gayev: You gave them your purse, Lyuba. You shouldn’t. You really shouldn’t!
Mrs. Ranevsky: I-I couldn’t help it. I just couldn’t help it. (pg. 683)”
Finally, the play ends with Firs, the aged servant left forgotten, to die alone in the house. You can’t help but feel pity for Firs, and the scene is incredibly poignant. But Checkov decides to end the play with the very comic word “nincompoop (p. 687)” to echo in the audiences’ mind. The scene is suddenly not quite so tragic, and the reality of life as a mixture of sorrows and joys becomes apparent.

Ibsen and Strindberg

SUBJECT: Mutual Influence: Ibsen & Strindberg

I mentioned in class how August Strindberg and Henrik Ibsen followed each others' work, and demonstrated a fascination with each other late in their careers. Here's a passage from Robert Ferguson's Henrik Ibsen: A New Biography (NY: Dorset Press, 1996) where Ferguson addresses their relationship.

The most illuminating example of a mutual fascination that cuts surreally across the perceived image of two artists involves Ibsen with Strindberg. Strindberg ... saw Ibsen as an artist in decline since attaining the heights of Brand and Peer Gynt. ... In the 1890s he always spoke disparagingly of Ibsen; yet paid him the compliment of following his work closely.

Ibsen returned the compliment, and in a very strange way: in March 1895 he purchased a large oil painting of Strindberg by the Norwegian artist Christian Krohg. This painting hung in his work room in the new apartment in Arbinsgate. Ibsen gave it a title of his own, 'Madness incipent.' He referred to it in a humorous, half-joking way, saying that Strindberg 'hangs there and keeps watch, because he is my archenemy.' Every scene he wrote had to be held up to the scrutiny of Strindberg's image and to survive his imagined criticism. And true though the description of him as 'archenemy' may have been, who could doubt that in importing the image of this wild and spontaneous man into his work-room, to hang opposite Kronberg's 1877 portrait of himself [Ibsen] from Uppsala, with his doctor's scroll and his good-conduct order for services to literature pinned to his gown, Ibsen also discovered that a certain deeply truthful, perhaps even restful psychological banalce was struck in his room (Ferguson, 399-400)?

Like Ferguson, Michael Meyer, author of Ibsen (NY: Doubleday, 1971), observes that Ibsen read and admired Strindberg's work, and vice versa, whatever their conspicuous differences as individuals. Of note for us is that (according to Meyer) Ibsen had been deeply impressed by Inferno (Meyer, 772n), and that he had read the copy of To Damascus that Strindberg personally sent him in 1898 (Meyer, 785).

To Damascus: Who Knows? Not me . . .

Out of all the plays we’ve read so far, this one is my favorite. It is also the one I understand the least. It is almost bursting with symbolism – of death (the repeating funeral dirge), of hell (the introduction says “the first nine scenes represent the nine circles of Dante’s inferno (pg. 384),” and of rebirth (the repetition, backwards, of the nine scenes) to name just a few – and the text is stuffed with biblical allusions. The difficult part is simply trying to get a sensible idea of what all those symbols and allusions mean. Honestly, I like a play that doesn’t lay everything out on the table for you. I like trying to sift through all the metaphors and insinuations. I also much prefer this translator than the one from Miss Julie. It is more realistic, and lent the Stranger, and the play itself, an informal and almost careless attitude. Its difficult for me to comment on what is trying to be told through the play, because many of the symbols and allusions are related to personal events of Strindberg (also from the introduction, pg.383). However, I greatly enjoy the format.

Miss Julie: Caricatures or Characters?

This was a difficult play for me to read. This was likely partly due to the translation, which read very unnaturally to me. The characters were unrealistically long-winded, and their personalities exaggerated. Jean is extremely cruel when he says, “Do you think any servant girl would throw herself at a man that way? Have you ever seen a girl of my class asking for it like that? I haven’t. Only animals and prostitutes (p. 599).” Miss Julie is still essentially his boss, yet Jean abuses her repeatedly. I would point out that this sort of treatment during that time period – even if there was an affair between mistress and servant – would probably not be tolerated or risked, if it weren’t for Miss Julie’s overly spineless personality, which makes the whole thing possible, at least in the context of the play. While Jean is insulting her, she cries, “Help me, help me! Tell me what to do, where to go (p. 601).” She barely puts up a defense to his name-calling, but worse, she doesn’t take any responsibility for her own actions. These two are more like charactures than characters.

Miss Julie Preface & Questions

Robby asks where the Preface to Miss Julie can be found; you can locate it on page 1666 of Stages of Drama. If you're curious about the playwright's background and biography, our text's publishers have provided a few links:
http://www.kirjasto.sci.fi/strindbe.htm ; http://www.strindbergsmuseet.se/english/life.html ; and http://www.extrapris.com/astrindberg.html.

The first passage in Strindberg's Preface provides an interesting intersection with the Lawrence Levine article:

"Like the arts in general, the theatre has for a long time seemed to me a ... picture Bible for those who cannot read, and the playwright merely a lay preacher who hawks the latest ideas in popular form, so popular that the middle classes - the bulk of the audiences - can grasp them without racking their brains too much. That explains why the theatre has always been an elementary school for youngsters and the half-educated ... who still retain a primitive capacity for deceiving themselves and for letting themselves be deceived ..." (Stages of Drama 1666).

Clearly Strindberg includes social class as an integral part in his formulation of theatre; much of the conflict in Miss Julie derives from the difference in the characters' caste and social programming. Given Strindberg's notorious misogyny, much focus tends to fall on the gender conflict (what has sometimes been dubbed "the war between the sexes") in the play, but rank and social status are absolutely inextricable from its structure.

Here are some questions to ponder for our discussion (whether you choose to meditate upon them is up to you):

Miss Julie was written for a society transforming rapidly - within the span of a single generation - from a highly demarcated, aristocratic structure, under the influence of democratization, political liberalization, and industrialization. What conflicts and tensions does the play bring to light?

How does this play appeal to different audiences? Given Strindberg's comments in the Preface, for whom has the play been built, and how? To whom does it speak, and on what levels?

Realism and Naturalism have often been touted as marking the democratization of theatre. Does Levine's argument regarding Shakespeare's removal from popular American culture cast any doubt on this narrative, or does it reinforce it?

The Lady From the Sea: Melodramatics

In the beginning of reading The Lady From the Sea, I felt that aspects of this play were more melodramatic than A Doll House. Both had the same basic conflict, that is the secret being kept from Ellida and Nora’s husbands. And like Nora in A Doll House, Ellida emotionally and difficultly reveals her secret. But Ibsen drags out the suspense of Ellida’s revelation, having her mention to Arnholm in Act I, “…I want to tell you something now that I couldn’t have mentioned then to save my life (p. 9).” However, she never actually tells Arnholm, and the act ends. It isn’t until the next act that she tells her husband, Wangel, about her promise to the Stranger, her “engagement,” as she calls it (p. 18). Wangel is confused and hurt, and doesn’t seem to understand how their promise could amount to a lasting commitment to one another. But it is with Ellida’s statement about her baby’s eyes – “The child had the stranger’s eyes (p. 22)” – that she rushes dramatically offstage, and the act ends. The ending of this play, while still melodramatic in many ways – such as Wangel’s decision to free Ellida coming only just in the nick of time (p. 48) – ends on such a happy and uplifting note (such a contrast to A Doll House) that it almost doesn’t fit. I suppose that melodramas are allowed to end happily, it is just that there is such a difference between the endings, that I hesitate to refer to them as the same type of play.

The Lady from the Sea: Questions to Consider

You might consider these questions as you comment on The Lady from the Sea. Do not feel you need to answer all - or even any - of them!

• How do the mechanics of this play – in terms of the plot – compare to the mechanics of A Doll House? Do improbabilities strain the conventions of realism?

• How do Ellida and Wangel define their relationship? How do these definitions differ from each other, and where do they overlap? By what means – if any – do these definitions (and their relationship) change?

• If there is an “issue” or social “problem” addressed by this play, what is it? If this play is not an “issue” or problem play, how might we categorize it?

• One French production, during Ibsen’s lifetime, attempted to give the Stranger a specific, realistic name. Ibsen opposed and resisted this choice, noting that if he had wanted to name the Stranger, he would have. What do you make of this character?

• How do you respond to the Ellida's choice? ... to her having a choice? ... to the ending of the play?

A Doll House: Going back to the title thing . . .

Like Vanessa, I’d also never read A Doll’s House, or even had much discussion about it in previous classes. The main thing that stuck out to me, was the reversal of roles that seemed to occur between Nora and Torvald at the end of the play. As soon as Torvald discovers that all the trouble Nora has caused will be avoided after all, he transitions so quickly back into the caring head-of-house that he was before. The switch is so fast, and he is obviously extremely relieved, but it seems to me that its indicative of selfish, childish behavior. As long as his reputation is no longer in jeopardy, he behaves lovingly towards her. I believe that Nora is right in feeling betrayed that Torvald wouldn’t perform a sacrifice for her as she did, or believes herself to have done. Added to that, he becomes this blubbering fool when Nora tells him that she’s leaving. Don’t get me wrong, I went into this liking Torvald, and I didn’t dislike him at the end, either. But I think this is another example of how the title – I’m using it here as A Doll House rather than with the possessive – can be applied to the story: Torvald is now the child, and his doll is being taken away from him.

Introduction

Welcome to the blog-based on-line discussion area for THEA 143, Development of Dramatic Art II, taught at Austin College in the Fall of 2005. This blog is designed to address issues and ideas relating to the history of theatre from the mid-19th century to the present day.

I'd like to establish several basic rules for the discussion:

(a) maintain respect for all participants at all times; when you wish to argue, make your point substantively, and be sure that you have made every attempt to understand the original post to the best of your ability;

(b) stay on topic; any and all connections are welcome (and on many browsers, you can include these connections in the form of hyperlinks or images), so long as they ultimately connect to the subject or discussion at hand;

(c) if you are a student in the course, BE SURE to keep a BACKUP COPY of any and all posts that you make; I would suggest that you compose your remarks in a word processor and simply paste them into blogger, as this host cannot guarantee the safety of data posted to its site;

(d) cite absolutely any and all sources for quoted or paraphrased material.

We'll make up the rest as we go along. Enjoy!

p.s.: For posts, 150 words is a minimum only. Use as many as you need to make your observations clear and complete.