Equus and yet more theater musings.

Yep, got stage seating for the day before Spring Awakening closes. I couldn't help it. I got the email as I was sitting at my desk about to do some work, and so I got first pick over the seats. The timing was perfect. I couldn't pass it up. So worth it. I'm so excited.

I went to see Equus yesterday. Well, the day before, now. I wasn't sure what to expect, but it was truly excellent. Weird, but excellent. I was deeply disappointed that the theater was half empty. Granted, it was a matinee the day after Christmas, and it was a pretty dark, eerie play. But still. It must be so demoralizing to perform for such a weak crowd.

I picked up the play today when I was at the library; I want to look it over again. I dozed off during a slower part in the first act, and either way, it was a little confusing: the set was extremely bare, and there were several parts that were supposed to be flashbacks, so it wasn't the easiest to follow. Plus, Richard Griffiths's character, Dr. Martin Dysert, went off on a lot of long asides to the audience, which was kind of obnoxious. But of course, he was brilliant, so it didn't matter.

The story is, Dysert is a child psychologist in a hospital in England. The magistrate frequently sends hims headcases who are sentenced to psych treatment instead of prison. He's dissatisfied with his life--he's been working there for 9 years, helping kids isn't fulfilling him, and his marriage stalled a long time ago. At the beginning of the show, the magistrate comes to him believing he's the only one who can help her latest case, who she just managed to get off of the jail charges--Alan Strang, who has blinded six horses with a spike.

At first, Alan refuses to speak, and responds only with jingles from commercials. Dysert slowly manipulates him into speaking, and it both fascinated and terrified by the boy, who was raised by an atheistic father and deeply religious mother, and has somewhat transferred his worship of Jesus to a horse figure, Equus. He works during the week in an appliance shop, but through a girl named Katie, he has gotten a job at a nearby stable on the weekends. Horses have always fascinated him, and he loves working with them, but he refuses to ride them. Instead, once every three weeks, he sneaks into the stable and takes out one in particular--Nugget--and rides nude through the fields, screaming his passion. Dysert is torn between pity and sympathy: while he recognizes that Alan is miserable, he envies the passion, the worship he feels, that is absent from his life. He also realizes that if he "cures" the boy, it is quite likely that the boy will fall into an inescapable numbness. He points out to the magistrate: the boy is ardently worshipful, full of spirit and a vivid (though, yes, agonizing) liveliness, yet he's the one who's "insane"?

In the end, Dysert gives Alan a placebo, getting him to tell the full story at last. The boy tells how he found himself attracted to Katie, and though he tried to and wanted to make love to her, he couldn't, when she took him to the stable, because all he felt was horseflesh. All he could feel, see, smell, was horse, and he could do nothing because Equus was watching him. Dysert makes empty promises to the boy, swearing that he will make the nightmares end and help him, knowing that he can't deliver. The play closes with Dysert covering Alan with a blanket and letting him sleep.

I had had my doubts about seeing Daniel Radcliffe as Alan. I know there had been a lot of talk about "Harry Potter" being naked on stage, but honestly? After the first few minutes, I forgot it was him. He was quite good--very intense, and clearly dedicated to the role. Alan must be such a draining character to play eight times a week, and twice on Wednesdays and Sundays. So emotionally taxing. And uncomfortable. I think I'd be very uncomfortable, becoming Alan Strang eight times a week for six months. It was uncomfortable enough, watching him. And the horses! They were played by people wearing creepy giant wire head-pieces, and horseshoe-shaped, elevated foot-pieces--they weren't really shoes as much as platforms. Their six stalls were the major set pieces, along with a square platform with four rectangular blocks and a circular brick walkway on it. The lighting was dim, and served to create a lot of the setting--rearranging the blocks and changing the lighting signified a different or multiple scene and time. It was definitely one of the most interesting pieces of ever seen, and even though it was extremely strange, creepy, and unsettling, it was satisfying.

That sounds odd, but it's true. I enjoyed the second act more, particularly Dysert's musings to himself and to the magistrate about which was better: his own responsible, satisfactory life in which he "helped" children, or Alan's life--tortured and painful, but passionate and emotional. I completely sympathize with him. The magistrate argued with him, that there's more than one way to feel passion, and Alan's way lacks maturity and also is extremely difficult--like the way Nick Ray "refused to mature if that meant feeling less." Dysert wishes he hadn't done that, in a way. The magistrate's is the Bridge of San Luis Rey argument--the "passion" exhibited by Alan is self-interest; it exists for itself. I'm not quite sure how I feel about it. Well, I know how I feel about it--I sympathize with Dysert. But my brain tells me the magistrate is right. I'm not sure if I want to feel that way though.

Equus just reaffirmed my latest thought that perhaps theater work is for me. I don't know though. It also reminded me of Albee's declaration that all playwrights should be experimenting and pushing limits, because I definitely feel that Peter Shaffer did that with this. Though I like the notion that art is for everyone, pieces like Equus is definitely not the kind of thing that would be popular, but I like that: it takes an open mind and a certain sensibility and taste to enjoy and appreciate Equus.

I was also reminded of an interview I read with Matt Doyle. (I swear I'm not a creeper/fanatic. I just happen to agree and react to a lot of what I've read about him. And I happen to have read this recently, so it's fresh in my mind.) A Spring Awakening Fan Club member asked him, "When you lived in London, were there any West End show [sic] you saw that you wished would come over to the US?" He responded:

I saw a lot of theatre when I lived in London. I'm not sure if I want anything to come to Broadway from the West End. And I don't really think Broadway shows should go to the West End. They are two completely different worlds. Broadway is a much more commercial theatre world that runs off of the big budget musicals and London is a much more open place for theatre that has a lot of funding for straight plays and classical theatre. I love both worlds for what they are. However I do wish there was more classical theatre in New York! It's a shame how little there is.

Ugh. Of course American theater is much more commercial and big budget; it's American. Art and commerce are inherently linked here; more now than ever before. I fully appreciate that and all, but at the same time, part of me wishes it wasn't true. Jeremy Piven walked out of Speed-the-Plow the other night, and audiences were [rightly] furious. He's being replaced, I heard, by another big name--William H. Macy, a Mamet veteran. Big names are practically essential for straight plays these days. Equus ran in London before moving to Broadway, taking Griffiths and Radcliffe with it, and I feel like without those two names--especially the latter--it never would have made it. The half empty theater proved it. Broadway is so expensive now--regular orchestra or front mezzanine seats run around $125 now--and I almost feel bad going to see Spring Awakening again when there are a ton of others I want to see, and I have no money. It's rough, and because of the economy, Broadway is taking a huge hit.

So many huge shows are closing in a few weeks: Hairspray, Spamalot, Spring Awakening, Gypsy, Grease. I just saw a NY Times article that said both Equus and August: Osage County have been running with 54% attendance, which is positively criminal; Avenue Q, with 69%. Rent closed in September, and hyped shows American Buffalo and A Tale of Two Cities were barely open before shutting down. It's horrible, and largely because of the economy. Family-oriented shows are still open--the Disney stuff is still going strong, and Shrek just opened. Guys and Dolls is set for another revival, along with West Side Story and Hair, and they'll probably do well for a while with big names and their status as classics, but what about everything else? The Roundabout has a huge slate of plays that sound great set to open this season, and I hope they all do. But who knows. It's the shows that don't have the most popular appeal and potential for commercial success that are taking the biggest hit, and I hate that.

That comment above, about how Broadway is so much more commercial than the West End, is doubtlessly true, and between that and these economic problems--it's crippling theater, and other artistic mediums as well, I'm sure. Theater, though--Broadway is so much less accessible to the general public, and has a much smaller audience than other mediums, which is a shame. Sure, the film industry and music industries will suffer, but theater--half of Broadway is closing, it seems, and it hurts to think about that. It's like that Billy Joel song, "Miami 2017"--"I've seen the lights go out on Broadway."

I'm going to move to Europe.

I have more to write about (including another Matt Doyle thing, haha), but I'll do it another time. It's 3:06 and I'm beat, and I didn't mean to write this much, at all. The whole Broadway situation is just breaking my heart, and I couldn't help a bit of a tangent. Silly blog posts should really not be this damn long. Haha.

----------------
Now playing: The Decemberists - The Crane Wife 3