New York Magazine LEAR

AKing Lear without Lear, you say? What would be the point? For playwright Young Jean Lee, it is to experience the Bard’s great tragedy in the most thrilling and freewheeling fashion—which is the only way Lee can approach a subject, as anyone who saw last winter’s acclaimed The Shipment can attest. Yet for someone whose plays have garnered so many accolades, Lee talks a lot about failure. One might say she’s made it part of her process. “Here’s how it goes,” she told me last fall, following the second workshop performance of her Lear, opening shortly at Soho Repertory Theatre. “I start with something that doesn’t work, and then I fail, fail, and fail again, until it comes together. What you just saw? I’m not happy with much of it. And it’s completely different than the first workshop a few months ago. That may seem nerve-racking, but it’s the only way I know how to do this.”

Theatergoers witnessed Lee, 35, perform a similar bit of anxiety transferal with her experimental The Shipment, which dared the audience to laugh at racial tropes and stereotypes through a succession of satiric tableaux, by turns probing, discomfiting, and hilarious. “I was disturbed by several things at the earliest stages of that work, too,” Lee says. “At previews, people got that it was humorous, but they were laughing in the wrong places, or not where I’d imagined they would. The response kinda horrified me.”

Her Lear is proof that just about anything can happen when Lee goes back to the drawing board. At a rehearsal in December, she shows off images of the production’s period costumes and Elizabethan-style proscenium, and also unveils a new script, the one that has boldly banished the characters of King Lear and Gloucester. In one fell swoop, the play shifts into a subversive and often funny discourse on the aftermath of the king’s death. No character, not even sweet Cordelia, is spared bouts of self-absorption. “I realized that since the Lear character is so central,” Lee explains later, “I kept giving him more and more dialogue. I conceived this work at a time when my dad and friends’ parents were starting to battle illnesses, so it seemed to make sense that this would be more about how the children—Cordelia, Goneril, Edmund, etc.—deal with mortality. Dialogue from the point of view of someone so much older than myself felt dishonest.”

In some ways, taking such liberties has given Lee an opportunity to rewrite her own history. The University of California, Berkeley alumnus (raised in Washington State) never finished her dissertation on King Lear over a decade ago, preferring to ensconce herself in New York’s radical-theater scene. “I guess Shakespeare is trying to defeat me, to kick me in the ass again,” laughs Lee. Her frustration with the process is alluded to later, as she addresses the actors after a dramatically different run-through: “I don’t want this to turn into the kind of theater that generally drives me insane, where people are just moved around the stage speaking poetic language.”

Amelia Workman, a veteran of The Shipment, plays Cordelia. She thrives on the improvisational nature of Lee’s writing process, which includes intense collaboration with the actors. “Most of the time, you walk into a production and know if your character’s going to get killed off. Here you have to understand how to articulate what’s happening with your character, which can lead [Lee] to amazing places. It’s much more open.” She pauses, then adds, “I mean, there’s still a chance Cordelia could die, though as of now that’s a last-week idea.”

Lear
By Young Jean Lee.
Soho Repertory Theatre.
January 7–31.

Read more: Why Playwright Young Jean Lee Cut Out the King Lear Character From ‘Lear’ — New York Magazine http://nymag.com/arts/theater/features/62897/#ixzz0axCs6RLk

Brooklyn Rail on LEAR at Soho Rep Young Jean Lee

The Excellent Fopperies of the World: YOUNG JEAN LEE TAKES ON LEAR
by Alan Lockwood

It is going to be pride of place for Young Jean Lee’s Lear during its three-week, world premier run in January. Lear was commissioned by Soho Rep, and they’ve selected her new piece as their new season’s opening knell. The writer-director had her first professional production on their stage, whenThe Appeal was mounted in 2004. Sarah Benson, now artistic director at Soho Rep, recalled in an interview that she’d never seen anything like The Appeal. “It was incredibly intimate, really funny, super theatrical,” said Benson, whose direction of Sarah Kane’s Blasted received an Obie this year. “She’d created a theater within the theater, without it being up its own ass.”

Photo by Gene Pittman. Courtesy Walker Arts Center.
What has followed has been a concentrated tear for Young Jean Lee’s Theater Company.PS122 staged Pullman, WA, and Church (2005 and 2007, respectively, with Churchmoving to the Public Theater).HERE presented Songs of the Dragons Flying to Heaven in 2006. Lee scored an Obie for emerging playwright the following year, and her company tours internationally. Then, after juxtaposing churning Korean femininity with an ineffectual Anglo couple in Dragons Flying, and after Church dwelt on white born-again Christians, The Shipment hit the Kitchen in early 2009. Brimming with disparate theatrical tactics, surging with the skills of five potent actors, The Shipment stared at our racial chasms, and hitched the bar high as a resounding commercial and critical hit. (Commissions have come from Lincoln Center Theater, Playwrights Horizons, and the Oregon Shakespeare Festival.)

By flaunting the mad king’s name in her new title, Lee’s blocked out a freighted task. Lear veers from unbridled power to helplessness; his tragedy inflects immensities. In Shakespeare Our Contemporary, critic Jan Kott wrote that “Beckett’s theater is found in King Lear”—an entire modernist aesthetic encapsulated just by the storm-ravaged heath scene. The Flemish writer-director Jan Lauwers, whose freewheeling Needcompany’s King Lear was pilloried at BAM in 2001, told me of Shakespeare that “when you take it on, you fail.”

Lee’s wily in her approach, though. Her jumping-off point seems lessEndgame than Tom Stoppard, who showed everything we’d never wondered about Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, Hamlet’s unwitting messengers, unable to cope with the hands—or daggers—of fate. Her modus operandi promise to keep her screwing with the comfort zone, though she has folks in key roles with whom she’s worked before. Amelia Workman, Paul Lazar, and Pete Simpson are in the cast (complemented by April Matthis and Okwui Okpokwasili). Dean Moss is back aboard, having choreographed cavorting Koreans 1, 2, and 3 in Dragons Flying, as is sound designer Matt Tierney.

“It’s definitely a springboard, not an adaptation,” Lee said on the phone over Thanksgiving weekend about her piece. “The kids are in the palace, they’ve just kicked the fathers out into the storm. They pretend they’re fine, then realize they’re not. I started out with this idea of King Lear, of aging parents and how they relate to their children. And ended up with a story without Lear, Gloucester or any old people.”

“It’s a play that completely unravels,” Lee said. “I feel there’s a moment in every person’s life when they realize their parents will die. When this hits, it’s like the ground opens up and things aren’t solid any more.” Whatever recognitions the Bard allowed noble Cordelia, or even the conniving Goneril, Regan, and their other halves, Lee’s Lear has everything to do with her own terminally ill father. As with much in her work—the taped dialogue that opens Dragons Flying elicits giggles that are then squelched by a video of the author being repeatedly slapped—the personal can lurk terribly close at hand, but a hair-trigger removed from the boisterous laughs.

Though he missed an autumn reading of Lee’s latest piece, Mac Wellman heard from colleagues who were there, “It sounds like she’s avoiding the obvious traps of doing Lear,” said the playwright (Crowbar; Terminal Hip) and co-founder of the Flea Theater in a phone interview. When Lee dropped the English doctoral program at UC Berkeley in 2002—“I thinkLear comes from the Ph.D thesis she never finished,” Wellman said—she came here, then joined his MFA program in playwriting at Brooklyn College. “From the first thing she showed me, which was the first play she’d written,” Wellman recalled, “I thought she had something to prove.”

“She was in my class with [playwright] Thomas Bradshaw and they quickly bonded,” Wellman said. Bradshaw (Southern Promises; Purity) played Fu Manchu in Lee’s Groundwork of the Metaphysics of Morals, which she directed at the Ontological-Hysteric Theater in 2003. “There’s about two dozen important young playwrights changing American playwriting,” Wellman said. He name checked Susie Lori Parks, Anne Washburn, Sarah Ruhl, “and Thomas, of course. Young Jean is at the center of that. She’s always edgy, playing around with ideas that are not fashionable. She’s always thinking about theater as it is and as it may be. She makes waves—there are people who don’t like what she does.”

Wellman had heard from Daniel Aukin, then the artistic director at Soho Rep, after Aukin saw The Appeal script. “He said how terrific he thought it was. Then Young Jean said she wanted to direct it. She taught herself directing as an expression of her focus. She doesn’t waste time, she’s not self-indulgent—that allows her to extend her focus.” He offered a short list of innovative writer-directors: Richard Foreman, Lee Breuer, Robert Wilson, Elizabeth LeCompte. “You can add Richard Maxwell to that,” Wellman said. “Young Jean is headed for that category.”

Lee, when asked about her commitment to directing her work, spoke of the internship she did on arriving in New York, with the collective Radiohole. “Their model is the Wooster Group, and they’re doing everything: writing, directing, designing. With that company, creating and producing go hand in hand.” Radiohole received the Spalding Gray Award this year, and Lee’s now a member. “The Appeal was a departure point, the last time I came to rehearsal with the finished script in hand. One night I got stuck and just had the actors get drunk. We ran through it, drinking on stage. Everything became completely different.”

The Appeal is in a volume of Lee’s scripts, titled Songs of the Dragons Flying to Heaven and Other Plays (Theatre Communications Group). It works a nominally classic setting, featuring Dorothy Wordsworth, her brother William (who was played by Pete Simpson), and fellow poet Samuel Coleridge, who also whirligigs in as a taciturn William Blake. But their English Lake District is rife with attitudes of the “No Worries, It’s All Good” generation. One transition scene comes off as a circle jerk, and Dorothy “spanks herself with her diary.” Later she extols “this weird animalistic mindless energy,” pondering an empty time where “there is no filter, there is no self-consciousness.” Shot through with a score by electro-duo Matmos, The Appeal spends its second act in an underfurnished Alpine castle where Dorothy and Lord Byron jig, drink, and dote—at least when that Romantic’s not nerved out about how things’d be “if I had microscopes for eyes.”

After the lubricated revisions on that play, Lee began developing her material in rehearsal. “Now I cast the actors before I’ve written a word,” she said. “I ask people what they do, sing or dance or juggle. This is the toolbox I have to work with. I get the best performers I can, within my budget constraints, and as a writer and director I want to make the performers look as good as I can. I look for huge charisma and versatility. They have to be not only charismatic,” she concluded, “they also have to be smart, so I can trust what they offer me.”

She offered an example of this formative exchange, from developing The Shipment. Having opened with Mikeah Ernest Jennings tracking Prentice Onayemi in a limber dance spanning the bare stage, the piece then shape-shifts into a stand-up routine, delivered with caustic brio by Douglas Scott Streater. Race is the case, and Streater’s dead set on mocking things back into line. He recalls his black and white girlfriends and a No. 2 pencil when he was seven years old, rejects various other taboos by advocating barnyard sex and consensual incest, and makes the telling point that “no one ever called someone a cracker before lynching them.” Streater entreats—at the top of his considerable lung power—for white’s, when called out on racist behavior, rather than claim it’s the accuser who has the problem (defined in hip hop as “beastin”), to “just fucking say I’m sorry and try not to do it again!”

“I wrote that stand-up and brought it in,” Lee said, “and I was ranting about all of these things in it and the actors told me these aren’t the things they’re mad about and I asked ‘well what are the things you’re mad about?’ and they told me. I went home and rewrote the whole thing. That’s my process with the actors.”

The Shipment then pummels through a rapper’s progress: ‘hood, prison, disillusioned stardom of furs, gold chains, and being “tired of eating a different pussy every night.” The actors affect graphic-novel deliveries, gesturing as broadly as Kara Walker silhouettes. Then, with the stage reset as the sitting area of a posh apartment, the play’s second half suspends on a naturalistic intensity as honed as the first half is slapdash. A new character, Thomas (Streater), has invited friends and colleagues over for drinks, and embarks on increasingly provocative manipulations.

On the phone, when asked if a similarly bracing level of dramatic power would elucidate conflicts in her Lear, Lee declined to reveal how the new piece breaks down. “It’s completely different in every respect—design, approach, structure, tone—from anything else I’ve done.” She then added that “it’s really been kicking my ass.” Sarah Benson from Soho Rep didn’t get any more specific. “Young Jean’s is a holistic, singular vision for the theater experience. She is creating a play that can only be a play. And she has a startling handle on its form.” To be unleashed very soon.

Lear runs Jan. 7–31, 2010 at Soho Rep, 46 Walker St., Manhattan. For tickets and more info, visit http://www.sohorep.org

THIS on stage until January 3rd Recommended by Davien

Sara Krulwich/The New York Times
Darren Pettie and Julianne Nicolson confront middle age in Melissa James Gibson’s drama at Playwrights Horizons.
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By CHARLES ISHERWOOD
Published: December 4, 2009
“This” is a bum title for the beautiful new play at Playwrights Horizons. But then Melissa James Gibson, the author of this tart, melancholy comedy about a group of close friends entering the choppy waters of middle age, has such boundless affection for language that even the drabbest constellations of vowels and consonants — words like “this,” in other words — are made to soar and leap like ballet dancers in full, ecstatic flight, or alternately stand alone in a sea of silence, ominous and resonant, like those pregnant pauses in a Pinter play.

Overview
Tickets & Showtimes
New York Times Review
Readers’ Reviews
Multimedia

Audio Slide Show
The Opposite of Talk
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Times Topics: Playwrights Horizons

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Sara Krulwich/The New York Times
From left, Glenn Fitzgerald, Elsa David and Julianne Nicholson in “This.”
The author of the quirky, cult-appeal comedies “[sic]” and “Suitcase,” both seen at the downtown powerhouse Soho Rep, Ms. Gibson graduates into the theatrical big leagues with this beautifully conceived, confidently executed and wholly accessible work, which is not just her finest to date but also the best new play to open Off Broadway this fall.

Its confused but lovable characters are drawn with a fine focus and a piercing emotional depth; the dialogue sparkles with exchanges as truthful as they are clever; and as directed by Daniel Aukin, Ms. Gibson’s longtime collaborator, and performed by a flawless cast, the play’s delicate pace, richly patterned wordplay and undercurrent of rue combine to cast a moving spell that lingers in the memory, like a sad-sweet pop song whose chorus you can’t shake. This is entirely appropriate for a play about how we process love, hurt and loss by concocting tidy stories to recall our experience, or reshape it — and sometimes to frame a happier future too.

“This” begins with a silly party game that Jane (Julianne Nicholson), a teacher and poet, is reluctant to play. Her married friends Tom (Darren Pettie) and Marrell (Eisa Davis), with a newborn in the next room, are determined to show her a good time. Actually they are just as eager for fun themselves, since the baby’s arrival — and the boy’s inability to sleep for more than 15 minutes at a time — has strained their relationship to the point that the water level in the Brita jug in the refrigerator becomes a flashpoint of irritation. The acerbic, gay Alan (Glenn Fitzgerald), another friend they’ve all known since their now-distant college days, is more interested in rooting through the cupboards to find a last bottle of wine, but he’s game too.

The rules are easy enough: The central player leaves the room and then tries to recreate a story the others have concocted in his or her absence by asking a series of yes-no questions. Unwilling to be a spoilsport, particularly in front of the handsome French doctor, Jean-Pierre (Louis Cancelmi), who has obviously been invited as a potential man for her, Jane agrees to play.

But the game is not precisely as it is described to Jane, and when she begins trying to ferret out the story, the narrative that emerges begins scraping a little too close to the bone. It appears to be something about a recently widowed woman involved with another couple. Jane lost her husband just a year before, and takes natural offense. The party fizzles awkwardly, as Jane shuffles home to her 9-year-old daughter, Maude.

When Tom shows up at her door to apologize the next day, Jane is still antsy and awkward, qualities rendered with lucent sensitivity by Ms. Nicholson, who has the shell-shocked air of someone who’s just staggered out of bed after a sleepless night. “I’m just tired of, ‘I’m sorry,’ in general, in life,” she says. “It’s all I’ve heard for the past year, I’m cranky.” (Of course she can’t resist adding, “I’m sorry.”) Remorse will become Jane’s obsession, the waking nightmare she moves through like a sleepwalker, after she and Tom engage in a bout of impulsive sex that turns the vague story from the party into a sort of fateful prophecy.

Tales of midlife adultery are an everyday staple of contemporary theater — and of contemporary life, I suppose. But Ms. Gibson’s is drawn with a scintillating verbal humor, honesty and a keen compassion that upends conventions and avoids the predictable at every turn. Dogging all the play’s characters, with the exception of the suave, self-confident Jean-Pierre, is the disquieting sense that the rules of life have been changed midway through the game, and they are now sitting with a less promising set of cards than they started out with.

THIS on stage until January 3rd Recommended by Davien

Sara Krulwich/The New York Times
Darren Pettie and Julianne Nicolson confront middle age in Melissa James Gibson’s drama at Playwrights Horizons.
SIGN IN TO RECOMMEND
TWITTER
E-MAIL
SEND TO PHONE
PRINT
SINGLE PAGE
SHARE
CLOSE

By CHARLES ISHERWOOD
Published: December 4, 2009
“This” is a bum title for the beautiful new play at Playwrights Horizons. But then Melissa James Gibson, the author of this tart, melancholy comedy about a group of close friends entering the choppy waters of middle age, has such boundless affection for language that even the drabbest constellations of vowels and consonants — words like “this,” in other words — are made to soar and leap like ballet dancers in full, ecstatic flight, or alternately stand alone in a sea of silence, ominous and resonant, like those pregnant pauses in a Pinter play.

Overview
Tickets & Showtimes
New York Times Review
Readers’ Reviews
Multimedia

Audio Slide Show
The Opposite of Talk
Related
Times Topics: Playwrights Horizons

Enlarge This Image

Sara Krulwich/The New York Times
From left, Glenn Fitzgerald, Elsa David and Julianne Nicholson in “This.”
The author of the quirky, cult-appeal comedies “[sic]” and “Suitcase,” both seen at the downtown powerhouse Soho Rep, Ms. Gibson graduates into the theatrical big leagues with this beautifully conceived, confidently executed and wholly accessible work, which is not just her finest to date but also the best new play to open Off Broadway this fall.

Its confused but lovable characters are drawn with a fine focus and a piercing emotional depth; the dialogue sparkles with exchanges as truthful as they are clever; and as directed by Daniel Aukin, Ms. Gibson’s longtime collaborator, and performed by a flawless cast, the play’s delicate pace, richly patterned wordplay and undercurrent of rue combine to cast a moving spell that lingers in the memory, like a sad-sweet pop song whose chorus you can’t shake. This is entirely appropriate for a play about how we process love, hurt and loss by concocting tidy stories to recall our experience, or reshape it — and sometimes to frame a happier future too.

“This” begins with a silly party game that Jane (Julianne Nicholson), a teacher and poet, is reluctant to play. Her married friends Tom (Darren Pettie) and Marrell (Eisa Davis), with a newborn in the next room, are determined to show her a good time. Actually they are just as eager for fun themselves, since the baby’s arrival — and the boy’s inability to sleep for more than 15 minutes at a time — has strained their relationship to the point that the water level in the Brita jug in the refrigerator becomes a flashpoint of irritation. The acerbic, gay Alan (Glenn Fitzgerald), another friend they’ve all known since their now-distant college days, is more interested in rooting through the cupboards to find a last bottle of wine, but he’s game too.

The rules are easy enough: The central player leaves the room and then tries to recreate a story the others have concocted in his or her absence by asking a series of yes-no questions. Unwilling to be a spoilsport, particularly in front of the handsome French doctor, Jean-Pierre (Louis Cancelmi), who has obviously been invited as a potential man for her, Jane agrees to play.

But the game is not precisely as it is described to Jane, and when she begins trying to ferret out the story, the narrative that emerges begins scraping a little too close to the bone. It appears to be something about a recently widowed woman involved with another couple. Jane lost her husband just a year before, and takes natural offense. The party fizzles awkwardly, as Jane shuffles home to her 9-year-old daughter, Maude.

When Tom shows up at her door to apologize the next day, Jane is still antsy and awkward, qualities rendered with lucent sensitivity by Ms. Nicholson, who has the shell-shocked air of someone who’s just staggered out of bed after a sleepless night. “I’m just tired of, ‘I’m sorry,’ in general, in life,” she says. “It’s all I’ve heard for the past year, I’m cranky.” (Of course she can’t resist adding, “I’m sorry.”) Remorse will become Jane’s obsession, the waking nightmare she moves through like a sleepwalker, after she and Tom engage in a bout of impulsive sex that turns the vague story from the party into a sort of fateful prophecy.

Tales of midlife adultery are an everyday staple of contemporary theater — and of contemporary life, I suppose. But Ms. Gibson’s is drawn with a scintillating verbal humor, honesty and a keen compassion that upends conventions and avoids the predictable at every turn. Dogging all the play’s characters, with the exception of the suave, self-confident Jean-Pierre, is the disquieting sense that the rules of life have been changed midway through the game, and they are now sitting with a less promising set of cards than they started out with.

LEAR TICKETS ON SALE

Soho Rep.
presents

Young Jean Lee’s Theater Company

LEAR

Written and directed by Young Jean Lee

NOTHING CAN PROTECT YOU FROM NOTHING.
Following last season’s hit, THE SHIPMENT, provocative playwright Young Jean Lee tackles her boldest work to date–a radical and moving response to King Lear. A Lear-less Lear about children turning their backs on their aging fathers, Lee’s irreverent tragedy challenges our love of watching terrible things.
Featuring
Paul Lazar*
April Matthis*
Okwui Okpokwasili*
Pete Simpson
Amelia Workman

Choreography by Dean Moss
Scenic Design by David Evans Morris
Costume Design by Roxana Ramseur
Lighting Design by Raquel Davis
Sound Design by Matt Tierney
Dramaturgy by Mike Farry
Assistant Stage Manager Miranda Huba*
Production Stage Manager Anthony Cerrato*

Associate Director Lee Sunday Evans
Assistant Directors Morgan Gould and Joshua Lubin-Levy

January 7 – 31
Tuesday – Sunday @ 7:30PM

SOHO REP.
46 Walker Street
two blocks south of Canal Street
between Broadway and Church
A/C/E, N/R/Q/W/J/M/Z or 6 train to Canal,
1 to Franklin

TICKETS

99¢ Sundays on sale Friday, December 11 at 9am!
$20 discount tickets available for performances January 7-16 only, use code YJLTC20

$30 regular general admission
$40 premium reserved seats

$20 student rush (line forms nightly outside the theatre)
For groups of 10+ call 212-941-8632 x201

* Appearing courtesy Actors’ Equity Association
LEAR is a commission of Soho Rep (Sarah Benson, Artistic Director). LEAR is a project of Creative Capital and the MAP Fund, a program of Creative Capital supported by the Doris Duke Charitable Foundation and the Rockefeller Foundation. With funding from the Greenwall Foundation, the Jerome Foundation, and the New York State Council on the Arts, a state agency. Residency support provided by Lower Manhattan Cultural Council’s Swing Space program; space at 14 Wall Street is donated by Capstone Equities, and from Hedgebrook and UCROSS.