Antigone & Torture

An interview with Jessica Cluess, author of Anna is Saved.

Please tell us a little bit about yourself and your writing

I grew up in Los Angeles, but I had to leave because it just wasn’t cold enough. I went to Northwestern University, really enjoyed it, and stayed on in Chicago. As for my writing, I’d say it comes out of performance. I’ve had substantially more professional training as an actor than as a writer, so how a sentence feels in a person’s mouth, whether it flows or not, is always a priority for me. I’ve performed my own work and enjoy it. In high school I was something of a monologist and I did a lot of comedic work, which made it strange when I came to college and just started doing drama after drama. I suppose it’s all changed the way I write; I like a balance of comedy and drama in my stories.

Describe your play Anna is Saved and the inspiration for it.

Anna is Saved came out of my feelings about the play ‘Antigone.’ I’ve had a lot of experience with that play. I studied it in class, and I was in a very avant garde production of it. (The central motif was a can of Coke.) Everybody was going on about what a hero Antigone was, and I just couldn’t get over the fact that she scorned her sister, her last remaining relative, and told her to get lost because she needed to be a glorious martyr. Some will beg to differ with my interpretation, but I think she’s more complex and unlikable than some may believe. So there was that, and then I thought about an experience in high school where some girls were going to a rally at UCLA to protest the war. When I talked to them about it, they revealed that they were doing it because it was an excuse to cut class and dress up in their parents’ vintage hippie clothes, and sort of ‘live out the 60s.’ So I had a classic figure, someone with whom I wanted to experiment, and the image of youth protesting and shouting, not because they want to change the world, but because they want to be important or get noticed. Then you throw in torture policies in the Bush years, and I was all set.

What is your writing process like?

My writing process changes all the time. Sometimes it’s the classic ‘go to cafes with a notebook and work’ thing, sometimes I just sit down and outline on my computer, and sometimes I actually grab my tape recorder and sort of act it out, try out dialogue, see if it feels right in my mouth. The tape recorder part can kind of worry the people who live with me. There can be a little shouting with that one. I try to do that one when no one’s home to be bothered. Otherwise it just looks insane.

How has your play changed through its involvement in LeapFest?

By the time the play got to Leapfest, it’d been through three workshop processes. I wrote it in a class my senior year of college, a student group performed it as part of a new play festival, and then Stage Left took it for their Down Stage Left workshop program last winter. So when it got here, its bones were already pretty clearly built. Because the basic foundation was laid, (and because, at an hour, it’s pretty damn short), we were able to delve deeper into character; why do they do what they do, what do they really want, if they have a change of heart does it make sense. The character of Baumer, the General’s right hand man, got a complete overhaul. He started off as this fat, slovenly fifty something who had no real experience in anything, and he turned into this rough and ready young man who was an accomplished soldier. It made the play so much better. On top of that, we changed dialogue, added and subtracted monologues, and just tightened as much as we could. What I love about the Leapfest process is how it is such a bridge between a reading and a production; Anna is Saved is, in many senses, a very physical play, and actually seeing the violence and physical comedy makes SUCH a difference to an audience. It makes it funnier, and also more terrifying.

Writing comedy is notoriously difficult. Do you find the workshop process more or less valuable in working on comedy?

I think whether or not comedy works onstage comes right down to the acting. Granted, writing and directing are a huge factor, but if the actors don’t get it, no one else will. I knew the workshop process would only be helpful if the actors got the comedy, and luckily they did. The play has five actors, and they all had different levels of comedic experience, but they all delivered. The workshop was lots of fun because the actors all brought their own ideas and funny moments to the table, and a lot of it worked and stayed in. Plus, ‘Anna is Saved’ isn’t exactly a riotous farce from start to finish. It starts off very funny, and then slowly it becomes not…funny…at all. The actors were very adept at handling the transition. They’re pretty fantastic all around.

What's next for you?

I’m currently working on a one-woman show called ‘What If He Dies, And We’re Still In Texas?’ detailing my life on the road in a traveling children’s theatre troupe, and I’ve got a few other things I’m working on. But I’m twenty-four. I’ll take whatever you’ve got!

You can see Anna is Saved on May 27 at 7:30pm.

Men & Guns: An Interview with Kingsville Playwright Andrew Hinderaker

Andrew Hinderaker, author of Kingsville, discusses masculinity, school shootings, and the inspiration for his plays.

Please tell us a little bit about yourself and your writing.
My writing... hmm... well lately it seems to be focused pretty squarely on masculinity. In the piece before Kingsville, I tried to explore why there's such a drastically high rate of suicide among men (and college aged men in particular). In Kingsville, I hit on masculinity even more overtly while taking a look at gun violence and rampage school shootings.

I don't know if it's a by-product of political correctness, but it seems like we're hesitant to explore some of these topics from a gendered lens. And it's like, hello, 80% of suicides are completed by men, and 100% of the rampage school shooters are male. And yet we keep responding to these tragedies with the same constricted view of masculinity that helped give rise to them.

As you can tell, I can get kind a little worked up about this topic. Which, I suppose, is why I write about it.

Describe your play Kingsville and its inspiration.
I was in Savannah, Georgia at the time of the Virginia Tech shooting. I was in a rental car, and I started to listen to radio call-in shows. Every caller I heard insisted the tragedy would have been averted if the other students had been armed.

It's hard to describe how I felt sitting there in the car. Except to say I think we all have moments where the ground shifts beneath our feet, and the things we believed to be certain are cast into doubt. For me, those moments of utter confusion, where I feel like my own neighbors speak a different language, are moments which usually trigger the start of a play. So I figured, all right, let's have a world where all the students are armed, and let's see what happens.

What is your writing process and how does the workshop process factor into it?
My process varies from project to project. For this project, I wrote the first two scenes, then quickly realized I needed to do a whole lot more research. So I spent the next few months researching school shootings, gun violence, and masculinity. Then I wrote the first draft, which was a big hot mess, as my first drafts often are.

I generally need time off between each draft to get some distance from the material. So I worked on another play for a month, then came back to Kingsville, and wrote a second draft. I did the same thing for the third. After the third or fourth, Stage Left helped me throw together a table reading, and we did another table reading after a subsequent draft.
So I entered the LeapFest process with a fifth or sixth draft of the play. This was a pretty ideal time for me, because I knew the overarching structure was sound, but that some of the scenes needed major work. Meg (McCarthy, the director) was able to set a rehearsal schedule that really allowed me to explore those scenes.

How has the play changed during LeapFest?
I've made edits to every scene in the play, and completely overhauled the two biggest scenes. I was also able to work with Meg and Cat Dean to flesh out the character of Audrey. As the lone female in a very male world, I wanted to be sure that she didn't fall so far on the outskirts that she seemed like some sort of device.

What was your greatest challenge in writing this play?
Honestly, probably feeling like I deserved to write the play. At the risk of sounding self-indulgent, I want to always feel like I'm the best person in the world to write whatever play I'm writing. Seeing as I don't have personal ties to school shootings, I definitely had moments early on where I wondered, "Who am I to write this play?" And you just simply don't approach a topic like school shootings without deep sensitivity and respect for those who've been affected. You just don't.

Once I realized that the play was less about school shootings, and more about masculinity, I felt like I was offering a different viewpoint than I'd heard, and one which ultimately paid respect to those who have been affected. And since I have strong personal ties to the research on masculinity that's presented in the play, I felt like I was well positioned to write the piece.
Beyond that initial hurdle, there were a number of challenges with this play. It's probably the most ambitious thing I've written, both in terms of structure and character - the people in this play make very bold decisions. And no question it was invaluable having the actors' feedback throughout the rehearsal process.

What's next for you?
Well... after back-to-back plays about suicide and school shootings, I decided it was time for a comedy. I wrote the first draft of a play entitled, I Am Going to Change the World, right before we went into rehearsals for LeapFest, and we had a reading of the play in April in New York that was really encouraging. So starting next week, I'll get to work on a second draft, and we'll do a staged reading of the piece in Chicago this summer.

The final LeapFest performance of Kingsville will be Thursday, May 28th at 7:30 pm.

Some Thoughts about Ghosts

I've just finished revising one scene of Hungry Ghosts, a scene in which all the ghosts are whispering at once, all telling their own private, urgent stories. As I wrote the ghosts' monologues, I wondered how I could explain the scene to the cast, and I thought about the various theories I've heard to explain hauntings. One theory is that a haunting is essentially a film loop, a moment so painful or traumatic that it is permanently burned upon the air, endlessly repeating itself for anyone who can see or hear it. Another theory ties the haunting to unfinished business, the restless ghost's need to apologize or avenge. Another is that ghosts belong to those people who are too scared to leave this existence so they're stuck, neither here nor there. Personally, I'm a fan of the "friendly visit" theory, the idea that in the afterlife we can pop in on the people and places we love, check up on them, hanging out like the last guests to leave a very long party.

For me, ghosts are like stories. We need to hear them, and they need to be told. We're haunted by the things we've left undone, but even more by words unsaid. Ghost stories are a portal, a path through the dark, frightening woods, with a glimpse of light at the end.

Finally in the swing of things

Last night's rehearsal was the first chance I've had to hear the play all the way through since the first read-through, and it was really a pleasure to be able to really get into it and start making some edits. I cleaned up some of the clunky transitions and added a bit more texture. But at the same time, it's frustrating, because I realize that I can't make too many more changes before the performance. The actors need time to assimilate the changes and work on the timing, which is so crucial to this piece. It really is an ensemble play, far more than anything else I've written. During tomorrow's rehearsal I'll probably make some more edits, and then I'll let it go. At least until after the first performance... (fair warning, cast!)

The cast deserves so much praise. May Lee Lockhart as Alice, Soo Jin Park as Isabelle, Noelle Hardy, Tovah Hicks, Dan Wachter, Callie Munson and Brandon Little as ghosts. This group really has wonderful chemistry, and they are all so joyful about playing and experimenting and finding new nuances in the story. I think this could be a frustrating play to work on. Most members of the cast play multiple characters, and there are a lot of quick transitions. Timing is crucial; as Noelle pointed out, if one line is dropped, the whole thing can unravel quickly. That means the actors really need to rely on each other. And they can. It's genuinely a pleasure to watch. Even in rehearsal, there are moments when I can simply be an audience member, enjoying fine actors on stage, instead of the playwright agonizing over clunky exposition or unclear plot. And that's fully a credit to the cast and to Laura Blegen, the director.

Death in the Street & Chicken-Eating Ghosts

The Hungry Ghost is a Buddhist concept that is common to the beliefs and cultures of many Asian countries, including Vietnam. The Hungry Ghost is the spirit of someone who died in unsatisfied or insatiable need. This could be someone who died of starvation or thirst, but it could also be the spirit of someone who suffered impossible hunger, like addiction or unrequited love. In death, they wander restlessly, endlessly seeking the sustenance they couldn’t get in life. In Asian art, the Hungry Ghost is often depicted as a creature with a huge empty belly and tiny constricted throat, so that each swallow causes great pain.

In traditional Vietnamese culture, ancestor worship is an extremely important part of the belief system. You continue to respect and serve your parents, grandparents and other long after they die, and in return, they bring you prosperity and blessings. Every home has a lovingly maintained ancestor altar, where they make daily offerings to the ancestors.

In addition, most homes have a “street side” altar, a smaller altar or spirit house in the garden or by the front door, where they can make offerings to spirits who are not part of the family, including wandering or hungry ghosts. Unhappy spirits, or those who don’t receive proper respect, can cause terrible bad luck. One of the worst things that can happen is “death in the street,” which means death away from home and family, especially violent death.

It is even worse if a person doesn’t receive proper burial. People who die away from homes, people who die violent deaths and do not receive proper burials and ancestor worship become restless, unhappy, often vengeful ghosts who can wreak havoc on an entire community. Vietnam was at war for hundreds of years. From the American War alone, there are about 30,000 US servicemen still missing, and more than 300,000 Vietnamese servicemen. That doesn’t include the thousands of civilians who died. That’s a lot of angry ghosts wandering the countryside.

There are many stories about hauntings and possessions. One of my favorites is about a house haunted by the ghost of an American soldier, a boy from Tennessee. The family’s grandmother, a 75-year-old woman who had never left Vietnam and spoke no English, suddenly started acting strangely. The family brought in a medium, who told them that the grandmother was possessed by this ghost. In perfect, Southern-inflected English, the grandmother demanded fried chicken and biscuits. When they provided this meal, the Tennessee ghost, speaking through the grandmother, said thank you and left the house. The family was never bothered again.

In this country that has been so torn apart by war, they have found a way to appease the many ghosts who haunt them. They make offerings to all the strange spirits, the American and Vietnamese soldiers who died in battle, and to the civilian victims of bombs and massacres and the horrors of war. The countryside is filled with small shrines, some as simple as a soda bottle holding a few sticks of incense. People even stop in the street to burn a votive or offering. These ghosts and their stories become part of a family, part of a community. After so much pain and loss, the culture heals itself by accepting and healing the spirits of everyone who suffered, even those who caused the greatest pain.

A woman in the street, burning votive offerings to restless spirits

LeapFest production blog--initial thoughts

This year my play Hungry Ghosts will receive a workshop production, directed by Laura Blegen, as part of LeapFest. This is my third time to participate in the festival, and I’m going to write about the experience in this blog. Here are my first thoughts as I get ready for the first rehearsal I’ve been able to attend.

On April 11th, there was a staged reading of Hungry Ghosts at Chicago Dramatists, directed by the lovely Hallie Gordon. This was a wonderful experience, and very informative for me. I’m learning more and more about this play as I work on it, and I love that process, the process of discovering a play through the voices of the characters, the interpretations of the actors, the smart insights of directors and audience members. This play, even more than my others, has truly been a process of exploration and discovering, uncovering the hidden shapes within it.

This play was initially inspired by the essay “Across the River Styx,” which was published in The New Yorker in 2005. The essay profiled a mission to recover the remains of American Gils who died in Vietnam. The US military spends millions of dollars recovering the remains of lost American servicemen from wars going back to World War I, and in locations as remote and inaccessible as the Himalayas. In one case, the team actually emptied an entire lake seeking the relics of a plane that crashed during the Vietnam War. They then had to refill the lake and minimize their impact upon the landscape. They recovered a single finger bone and a class ring. I was fascinated by the noble, extravagant immensity of this mission.

My early attempts to write this play focused primarily on the archaeological and military aspects of the mission. The initial working title was Last Known Alive, a term which refers to the last information about a serviceman who is missing in action, the last time and place he was seen alive. And the military aspects of the mission are fascinating, including translators, mortuary specialists who care for the remains, unexploded ordinance technicians who defuse the grenades, landmines and other explosives found during an excavation. (During one excavation, they encountered an average of five landmines a day.) Amazing, absorbing stuff, rich in dramatic possibility. And yet, and yet… somehow it wasn’t quite right. A ghost crept into the mix, the ghost of an American soldier. I knew that might be a bit clichéd, but I didn’t care because I’m a sucker for ghost stories. I liked this character. But I was still a bit stymied by the play. So I set it aside. I was absorbed in a production of Creole at InFusion Theatre.

And life in general got in the way, as it has a tendency to do. I had a few too many brushes with mortality, my own and those of loved ones, a rough time that I won’t discuss here.

Then last summer, I enjoyed a residency at Ragdale, an artists’ retreat in Lake Forest. While I was there, I worked on Hungry Ghosts, which I also workshopped with Infusion Theatre and the DCA Incubator Series. Long days of research and intense writing, with long walks on the prairie, interspersed with hectic workshop days. According to lore, Ragdale House is haunted, so maybe I had a visitation. Whatever the reason, the original ghost of the play was soon joined by more, many more. The original military aspect of the play retreated, and the story was overrun by ghosts.

I’ve figured out that the play is about ghosts and stories---ghost stories told by ghosts—and somehow, in a way I can’t quite explain, ghosts and stories are the same. They are where we come from, what we are made of, our substance and our soul. Joseph Campbell says that the world is made of stories, that stories are how we carry our cultural DNA, and this play is about the stories that comprise a tiny village in a country that has more ghosts than most.