Student Subscription Series 30th Anniversary Study Guide by Goodman Education

STUDENT SUBSCRIPTION SERIES 30TH ANNIVERSARY STUDY GUIDE Directed by ROBERT FALLS Study Guides 2

Introduction to the Study Guide by Willa J. Taylor, Walter Director of Education and Engagement at the Goodman

Death of a Salesman by Arthur Miller

Three Sisters by Anton Chekhov

The Seagull by Anton Chekhov

Long Day’s Journey Into Night by Eugene O’Neill

Desire Under the Elms by Eugene O’Neill

The Iceman Cometh by Eugene O’Neill

King Lear by William Shakespeare

Measure for Measure by William Shakespeare

Co-Editors | Elizabeth Rice, Brigitte Wittmer Copy Editor | Elizabeth Rice Production Managers | Willa J. Taylor, Brigitte Wittmer Graphic Designers | Anna Gelman, Brigitte Wittmer Contributing Writers/Editors | Willa J. Taylor, Robert Falls, Tom Creamer, Randall Colburn, Steve Scott, George Jasinki, Brigitte Wittmer, Julie Massey, Teresa Rende, Neena Arndt, Steve Scott, Elia Maria Lintz, Susan Jonas, Maria Nelson, Dani Weider, Angie Feak, Tanya Palmer, William Landon, Elizabeth Mork, Laura Bohannan, Fatimah Asghar, Elizabeth Rice, DeAnna M. Toten Beard, Richard Christiansen, Paul Brenner, Nathan Southern, David Galens, Lynn M Spaminato, Kate Ellis, Ellen Guettler, Princeton University Press SPECIAL THANKS | Harold Washington Library Archives, Steve Scott, Julie Massey, Goodman’s Press and Marketing Departments, David Diaz, Cecily Pincsak, Katie Cassidy This study guide is published by Goodman Theatre’s Education and Engagement Department. For more information related to these shows, please visit the Goodman’s Education website: www.goodmantheatre.org/engage-learn.

Introduction to the Study Guide by Willa J. Taylor, Walter Director of Education and Engagement

When Robert Falls became artistic director of Goodman Theatre in 1986, he did more than expand the varieties of theater art that were to be produced on the Goodman stages. He also insisted that the Goodman reinvigorate its programming efforts to reach a wider, more diverse audience. Part of this objective, of course, he achieved by expanding and diversifying the Goodman’s artistic mission to include productions accessible to a wider cross-section of Chicago’s population. But Falls also brought with him a passionate commitment to the city’s students and educators, encouraging the creation of education and community-based programs that currently bring the theater experience direct-

ly into the lives of thousands of young Chicagoans. While community programs had been part of the Goodman’s mission since its earliest days, what Falls had in mind was a deeper, richer experience for students, one that would show teens the limitless possibilities of theatrical expression. And unlike theaters that created sometimes watered-down versions of mainstage productions for high schools audiences, the Goodman should, according to Falls, make its best work available, along with workshops and materials for teachers that encouraged the study of Goodman productions in classes beyond the expected

English and drama curricula. Using these guidelines, Falls and his staff created a program that would soon be emulated by theaters throughout America: the Goodman Student Subscription Series. Beginning with the 1986 production of Galileo, matinee performances of Goodman shows were presented free of charge for Chicago public high schools. Students and teachers received individual copies of scripts, special teacher and students guides to each production, classroom visits from Goodman staff and artists and, eventually, video documentaries that offered students a guided tour of the making of Goodman productions. Students also would participate in

Students at a talkback for Race by David Mamet in 2012 led by Willa J. Taylor, Walter Director for Education and Engagement at Goodman Theatre. Photo courtesy of Goodman Theatre.

lively discussions after each matinee performance, exchanging ideas and opinions with the artists they had just seen onstage. The Series was an immediate hit – teachers and students were thrilled to have access to the same productions as regular Goodman audiences, and Goodman actors marveled at the intelligent, enthusiastic reception they received from the well-prepared student audiences. Such challenging productions as The Iceman Cometh and Peter Sellars’ unconventional The Merchant of Venice received rapturous responses from student viewers.

These particular plays were also selected because each has been adapted into a film. Cinema and theater exists as distinct media each with its own unique challenges and gifts. The timelessness of film – moments forever captured stay unchanged – is oppositional to the immediacy of live theater – moments that are different from night to night. And while we do not suggest that watching these eight

films is the same as seeing these productions performed by actors on stage in front of you, these classics will allow students to experience the themes and issues in the original plays, study them for their commentary both on the times in which they were created and how they speak to us today, and this may be able to introduce students to the rich, vibrant landscapes created by the masters of dramatic literature.

A student speaks during a talkback for Desire Under the Elms by Eugene O’Neill in 2009 at the Goodman. Photo courtesy of the Goodman Theatre.

This season marks the 30th anniversary of Falls’ leadership, and of the Student Subscription Series. The program has introduced more than 100,000 Chicago high school students to our productions, and trained hundreds of teachers to use both the art onstage and the processes of artistic creation to develop curriculum, build community and support socio-emotional learning in the classrooms. This guide has been created to celebrate this monumental anniversary. It offers teachers an in-depth look at some of the plays that Robert Falls has directed here at Goodman. Each has been chosen because the play or the playwright is featured in the Common Core English Language Arts Standards. We have also included three plays by Eugene O’Neill. Considered to be one of America’s greatest playwrights, and inexplicably absent from the suggested reading lists for drama, O’Neill’s plays were among the first to introduce realism in American drama, had significant influence on African American actors like Paul Robeson, and focused on the lives of everyday people, often on the outskirts of polite society. He is also one of Falls’ favorite playwrights. 4

Students applaud after a matinee performance of King Lear by Shakespeare in 2006 at the Goodman. Photo courtesy of the Goodman Theatre.

Goodman Theatre Presents...

Playwright | Arthur Miller

Synopsis of the Play

Death of a Salesman: A History of the

Play 11

Historical Context for Death of a

Salesman 12

A Better Life: Creating the American

Dream 12

The Traveling Salesman Math Problem

Technology and the Changing Salesforce

Death of a Salesman OnScreen

Graphic Design of Death of a Salesman. Goodman Theatre. 98/99.

Goodman Theatre Presents... by Brigitte Wittmer

Death of a Salesman By Arthur Miller Directed by Robert Falls

Season 98/99 September 18 - November 7, 1998 Broadway | Eugene O’Neill Theatre February 10 - November 7, 1999 Robert Falls directed Death of a Salesman at the Goodman in 1998 to much critical acclaim. After its success in Chicago, the play transferred to Broadway at the Eugene O’Neill Theatre, 50 years to the day after Death of a Salesman premiered on February 10, 1949. Falls accepted the Tony Award for Best Direction of a Play, and the production received the Tony Award for Best Revival of a Play. One of Falls’ longtime collaborators, Brian Dennehy, accepted his first Tony Award for Best Actor in a Play for his performance as Willy Loman. Elizabeth Franz received the Tony Award for

Best Actress for her performance of Linda Loman. Though the Goodman had sent several shows to New York before, this production in particular placed the Goodman in the national spotlight. It later transferred to the West End in London, which garnered the Goodman international praise. While it was the play’s 50th anniversary, this production did not replicate or commemorate the original set design. Robert Falls, in keeping with his directorial style, envisioned a Salesman never before seen. Traditionally, the set

for Death of Salesman resembles a realistic home, often fashioned after Jo Mielziner’s famous, open-framed house from the 1949 production. In this case, the set designer, Mark Wendland, drew inspiration from the play’s original title, “The Inside of His Head,” and featured bits and pieces of a house, partial rooms and floating spaces. Two turntables spun scenes in and out of focus, creating the dream-like world inside of Willy’s head. The set design made for a more ominous, otherworldly, and perhaps psychological representation than before.

(L to R) Biff (Kevin Anderson), Willy Loman (Brian Dennehy), Ted Koch (Hap) and Elizabeth Franz (Linda Loman). Death of a Salesman. Goodman Theatre. 1998. Photo by Eric Y. Exit.

Playbill. Broadway production. 1999. Photo courtesy of PlayBill.com.

Playwright | Arthur Miller Originally from American Masters on PBS

In the period immediately following the end of World War II, American theater was transformed by the work of playwright Arthur Miller. Profoundly influenced by the Depression and the war that immediately followed it, Miller tapped into a sense of dissatisfaction and unrest within the greater American psyche. His probing dramas proved to be both the conscience and redemption of the times, allowing people an honest view of the direction the country had taken. For more on Arthur Miller and a timeline of his career, click here.

Arthur Miller (1915 - 2005) at his desk, circa 1955. Photo by New York Times Co./Archive Photos/Getty Images.

Synopsis of Death of a Salesman by Brigitte Wittmer

Death of a Salesman by Arthur Miller tells the story of a loyal, family man struggling to remain relevant in a world focused on money and personality, circa the late 1940s. After three decades of loyalty to a sales firm, he has found himself with nowhere to go in his business. He can’t make enough money to support his family and his sons aren’t able to help, as well. Willy is forced time and again to seek help from a more successful neighbor. Throughout the play, we see Willy’s mental state deteriorate; he comes in and out of memories with his family and a mistress that blend in with reality and disorient the audience as much as Willy himself. Death of a Salesman, a title that leaves nothing to the imagination, tackles the destructive nature of the American Dream, that through hard work and determination one can achieve his dreams, and how it takes a toll on those that never quite hit the mark.

Kevin Anderson (Biff) and Ted Koch (Hap) in Death of a Salesman. Goodman Theatre. 98/99. Photo by Eric Y. Exit.

Death of a Salesman: A History of the Play Originally Printed in the Goodman’s OnStage Additions by Brigitte Wittmer

In his autobiography, Timebends, Arthur Miller writes that the trigger for Death of a Salesman was a chance encounter with a relative in 1947 outside Boston’s Colonial Theatre where All My Sons was trying out prior to its Broadway opening. Millers’ uncle Manny was a salesman, full of bravado, prone to making outlandish claims. He imagined his two sons, Buddy and Abby, to be in a perpetual competition with the world, especially with their cousin Arthur. Seeing his nephew’s name on the marquee must have impressed Manny. When Miller met him coming out of the theater he saw that Manny had been weeping: I could see the grim hotel room behind him, the long trip up from New York in his little car, the hopeless hope of the day’s business. Without so much as acknowledging my greeting, he said, “Buddy is doing very well.” ...I thought I knew what he was thinking: that he had lost the contest between his sons and me. An enormous welling sorrow formed in my belly as I watched him merge into the crowd outside. (Timebends) Other elements of Miller’s life informed the writing of the play as well: his father’s business failure, his growing up in Brooklyn where he played high school football, and his love of working with his hands-which he shared with his creation, Willy Loman. But Miller was also interested in exploring time onstage and in finding a form that could contain simultaneously past and present. With All My Sons, Miller had written a well-made play that progressed linearly, with each action leading to the next in a natural way. With Salesman he would try something differ8

Lee J. Cobb, Mildred Dunnock, & Arthur Kennedy, scene from Death of a Salesman. Famous, open-framed set by Jo Mielziner. 1949. Photo by Cecil Beaton/Condé Nast/Getty Images.

ent. An early working title was “The Inside of His Head”-- the image is of a mind buzzing with contradictions, in the present one instant, in the past the next, effortlessly alive in each. In Timebends he writes, “I had known all along that this play could not be encompassed by conventional realism, and for one integral reason: in Willy the past was as alive as what was happening at the moment, sometimes even crashing into overwhelm his mind.” The possibility, indeed, the necessity, of the past informing the present has been a compelling subject for Miller. He has explained it in many of his plays; the title of his autobiography underlines this fascination.

Miller had bought land in Connecticut with his earnings from All My Sons. In the spring of 1948, having worked through his new play in his head, he bought a load of lumber and built himself a ten by twelve foot writing studio on his property. When the roof was on he sat down to write and produced a draft of the first act in a single day and night session of his desk. Six weeks later, he gave the script to Elia Kazan, who had directed All My Sons. After two days Kazan called Miller. “My God, it’s so sad,” he said. Miller answered, “it’s supposed to be.” Kazan was stunned by the play and immediately decided to do it. The summer and fall of 1948 were

consumed with getting producers for the play (several of whom thought the play’s title much too grim for Broadway), with casting and with the design process. Jo Mielziner was brought on to create the set. Needing to accommodate the fluidity of the time shifts in Miller’s script, Mielziner used the Lomans’ frame house, squeezed between apartment buildings on either side, as his central image. But the walls were only sketched in, making them seem solid at times and transparent at others, allowing the scenes from Willy’s past to flow through the set. Mielziner’s set was a landmark of stage design and remains one of the most notable ever built. Rehearsal began on December 27 in New York, with Lee J. Cobb (still in his thirties) as Willy and Mildred Dunnock as Willy’s wife, Linda. The play premiered in Philadelphia on January 22, 1949 and had its New York opening on February 10. It was an immediate triumph, with the critics deeply appreciative of Miller’s achievement. Brooks Atkinson of The New York Times wrote, “It is so simple in style and so inevitable in theme that it scarcely seems like a thing written and acted. For Mr.

Miller has looked with compassion into the hearts of some ordinary Americans and quietly transferred their hope and anguish to the theatre.” Death of a Salesman won a Pulitzer Prize and the Drama Critics’ Circle Award as well as a Tony. The script was a best-seller and became the only play ever chosen as a Book-of-the Month Club selection. There have been many important productions of Death of a Salesman during its fifty-year life. Six months after the original production opened, Elia Kazan directed Paul Muni as Willy Loman in London. The spirit of McCarthyism followed the play to Dublin in 1951, where the play was picketed by Catholic and anti-Communist demonstrators angry that anything by Miller should be allowed to play there. In America, the play received hundreds of productions in regional and community theaters, one of the most notable being one starring Hume Cronyn and Jessica Tandy in the Guthrie Theater’s inaugural season in 1963. But Miller did not permit a revival of the play in

A production of Death of a Salesman at the People’s Art Theater. Arthur Miller (left) and actor Ruocheng Ying (center).Beijing, China. 1983. Photo courtesy of Magnum Photos.

the New York area until 1974, when he allowed George C. Scott to direct it in Philadelphia with Martin Balsam as Willy; Miller disagreed with Scott’s handling of the play and took over the direction himself. A year later, Miller allowed Scott to tackle the play again, but this time Scott would also play Willy. A controversy arose over Scott’s casting African American actors in the roles of Willy’s neighbors, Charley and his son, Bernard. In pointedly casting just these two roles with black actors, Scott seemed to be making a statement, but its meaning was unclear; critics and Miller himself felt that this casting choice distorted Willy’s character in making him seem way ahead of his time by having African American neighbors in a 1930s Brooklyn neighborhood. Three years earlier, however, Baltimore’s Center Stage, with Miller’s approval, had produced an all-black production that starred Richard Ward as Willy and included the young Howard Rollins as Stanley. Steppenwolf Theater presented Death of a Salesman in 1980 with Mike Nussbaum as Willy, Mary Seibel as Linda, John Mahoney as Charley, Terry Kinney as Happy, and John Malkovich as Biff. Malkovich went on to join the cast of the 1984 Broadway revival as Biff, playing against Dustin Hoffman’s Willy. This production, and the brilliant 1985 television version directed by Volker Schlöndorff with the same company, has been the most important revival in the United States. Hoffman’s Willy went against the image of Lee J Cobb’s big, burly rendition. Hoffman was literally Millers’ “little man,” a terrier making a big noise, and much closer physically to how Miller had originally seen the role. As important was the portrayal of the sons, as played by Malkovich and Stephen Lang as Happy. Their strong performances highlighted the generational conflict in the play and moved the father-son struggle closer to the heart of Willy’s tragedy. 9

Other media productions include a 1966 David Susskind television presentation reuniting Lee J. Cobb and Mildred Dunnock, and a recording made that year of Cobb and Dunnock with Dustin Hoffman as Bernard. Columbia Pictures had already released a film version in 1951. Miller detested Frederic March’s Willy-March portrayed him as a madman, thereby undermining any possibility of tragedy in the story. An additional insult to Miller, Columbia, paranoid of the Red Scare at the time, made a short film intended to accompany showings of Death of a Salesman. The short featured college professors assuring the audience that Willy Loman was an aberration, that the job of salesman was a healthy manifestation of the American spirit-- in effect to ignore the message of the play. The stink Miller made was enough to scotch the plans to distribute the short. In 1983, Miller himself directed his play with the People’s Art Theater in Beijing. The production is chronicled in Miller’s book, Salesman in Beijing, an edited journal he kept during his time in China. The book is a fascinating look at Chinese artists emerging from the aftermath of the Cultural Revolution and willing to take a daring chance with an American play remote from their culture-- the Chinese economy had nothing comparable to a traveling salesman, for example. The book is also wonderful commentary from the playwright himself on his masterpiece, as the thirty years since its writing and the cultural dislocation of China throw the play’s ideas and themes into high relief. Finally, most recently in 2012, Philip Seymour Hoffman played Willy Loman on Broadway to much critical acclaim. Andrew Garfield played his son, Biff. Like the Goodman’s production, this revival went on to receive the Tony for Best Direction and Best Revival. It also aimed to recre10

ate the original set by Jo Mielziner and the music composition of Alex North. Where Dennehy showed an incredible confidence in his scenes as a younger Willy Loman, Hoffman embraced a more frequently uncertain man (New York Times). Even now, some 68 years after the play opened, Death of a

Salesman remains a timeless piece

of American theater, illuminating our illusions and false certainties inside and outside of the home.

Brian Dennehy as Willy Loman and Kate Buddeke as The Woman. Death of a Salesman. Goodman Theatre. 1998. Photo by Eric Y. Exit.

BELOW: Linda Emond as Linda Loman, Philip Seymour Hoffman as Willy Loman and Andrew Garfield as Biff Loman in Death of a Salesman on Broadway. Photo by Brigitte Lacombe.

Historical Context for Death of a Salesman Edited by David Galens and Lynn M. Spaminato Originally Printed in Drama for Students

When World War II ended in 1945, the United States embarked upon an unprecedented period of economic prosperity, driven by the increase in industrial production markets brought about by the war. Unlike the Great Depression and the war years, Americans had a surplus of goods and services from which to choose, and the money with which to purchase them. Non-farming businesses grew by one-third, and housing construction became a booming industry. However, the economic situation was not improved for the poorest Americans during this time. The economic boom brought high inflation, which kept poorer citizens from saving any money, and small farmers faced hard times because of government policies that benefitted larger, corporate farmers. The lowest-paid workers in the country were the migrant farm workers, with sales clerks and unskilled laborers (such as gas station attendants) not far above them. Happy, a sales clerk, and Biff, a farm worker, represent this segment of the American workforce in Death of a Salesman, and each of them struggles to retain his dignity in the face of his lowly position in a largely affluent society. Because Americans felt so secure in their newfound prosperity, they began using credit to purchase the products and services they desired. Although the prices of these goods and services were driven higher and higher by increased demand, Americans continued to purchase them, using credit to buy what they could not otherwise afford. For the first time in history, automobiles were more often

purchased on credit than with cash, and the use of long-term credit, such as home mortgages, also rose dramatically. Willy Loman suffers from the effects of relying too much on credit, struggling to keep up his payments while trying to provide the necessities for his family. The United States emerged from World War II as a “superpower” among the world’s nations, but this role led to insecurities on the part of the American government and the American people, who suddenly bore the responsibility of retaining their position in the world,“keeping the world safe for democracy” by protecting it from the influences of the other world “superpower,” the communist Soviet Union. Because of the national pride and feeling of superiority instilled in them by their victories during the war, Americans felt a deep-seated need to prove that capitalism was better than communism during the period that followed World War II, which is known as the Cold War era. Americans felt obligated to achieve financial success, both as a way of defeating the Soviets and as a way to show their gratitude for the freedom they were privileged to possess by virtue of living in a democratic society. Willy’s preoccupation with his financial status and his position in society reflect this Cold War attitude. The Great Depression and World War II led to major changes in the nature of the American government. Beginning with President Franklin D. Roosevelt’s New Deal (an economic program that began

in response to the Great Depression), government became larger and more influential in the daily lives of American citizens. Furthermore, the growth of large corporations and the spread of such mass communication media as radio and television made Americans feel more like a large, connected society. With this newfound sense of belonging came a new-found desire to conform to the accepted norms and values of the majority. Instead of being a nation of rugged individualists, the United States became a nation of people who wished desperately for acceptance by their peers, which meant that they needed to appear successful in the eyes of society. Willy displays this wish for acceptance in his preoccupation with being “well liked,” which he views as the ultimate measure of success. In The Lonely Crowd, a book published in 1950, author David Reisman argues that prior to the Cold War era, Americans were motivated by strict morals and rules of conduct, but following World War II they became more motivated by others’ perceptions of them, and altered their behavior according to acceptable societal standards. Reisman classified the pre-Cold War behavior pattern as “inner-directed,” and the postwar pattern as “other-directed,” maintaining that “other-directed” people, like Willy Loman, have no established sense of identity because they look to other people to determine their self-image. This idea is reflected in Biff’s comment at the end of the play when he says that Willy “didn’t know who he was.” 11

A Better Life: Creating the American Dream by Kate Ellis and Ellen Guettler Summary by Brigitte Wittmer

American RadioWorks, based out of the Minnesota Public Radio, wrote a 10 Part article on the evolution of the American Dream since the Great Depression. In 1931, historian James Truslow Adams coined the phrase and explained that the American Dream was a dream “of social order in which each man and each woman shall be able to attain to the fullest stature of which they are innately capable, and be recog-

nized by others for what they are, regardless of the fortuitous circumstances of birth or position.” However, after veterans returned from World War II in the 40s, the Dream began to change. The President at the time, Franklin D. Roosevelt, initiated a bill that guaranteed college education for some 7 million returning vets in addition to government-subsidized housing. In the post-war era, Americans

came to believe that the next generation could have even more and even better prospects, which shifted the American Dream towards a more consumerist lens-- a belief that Americans were guaranteed a better material future than those that came before them. Inflation and changing policies on taxes, retirement funds, and homes have continued to alter the American Dream through today.

The Traveling Salesman Math Problem by Brigitte Wittmer

The Traveling Salesman Problem (TSP) seeks to find the shortest distance a salesman needs to travel in order to hit all of his or her sales locations. It asks, “Given a list of cities and the distances between each pair of cities, what is the shortest possible route that visits each city exactly once and returns to the origin city?” This is one of the problems of Willy Loman’s profession: figuring out what is the most efficient route to take in order to reduce the amount of traveling necessary to do the job. Below is an introduction to the problem. To see a solution for a Traveling Salesman Problem, click here.

The Traveling Salesman Problem: An Introduction by Princeton University Press

Technology and the Changing Salesforce by Brigitte Wittmer

Technology has greatly changed the way we interact with the world. From desktop computers to smartphones, big data to social media, technology has woven its way into our lives and the salesforce in ways unimaginable since the 1940s. From 1999 to now, salesmen and women have adapted to meet the rising trend of data-driven, digital marketing endeavors. Face-toface interactions are not as central to the work as before, something Willy Loman would not have been used to. In Death of a Salesman, he says on multiple occasions that “the man who makes an appearance in the business world, the man who creates personal interest, is the man who gets ahead. Be liked and you will never want” (Act 1). While it still helps to be personable in the salesforce, people no longer just require word-of-mouth or a “smile and a shoeshine” to tell them what to buy-- they have the internet to inform them on the quality of a product. It makes sense then that a plethora of marketing and sales jobs have opened up to manage digital expectations. By no means has the salesperson disappeared, including the traveling salesman, but rather the position has transformed to meet the changing demands of the market. For more history on the transformation of the sales industry, visit : • Book review for Birth of a Salesman by Walter A. Freidman • 100 Years on the Road: The Traveling Salesman in American Culture by Timothy B. Spears

LEFT: Salesman demonstrating an electric refrigerator to members of the United Producers and Consumers Cooperative of Phoenix, Arizona, 1940. Photo courtesy of Library of Congress. BELOW: IBM System 360, the computer installed at the firm Sterling Cooper in Mad Men. Photo courtesy of AMC.

Discussion: Have you ever watched Mad Men? This show portrays the glamorous lives and hidden identities of advertising executives working on Madison Avenue in New York during the 1960s. We see these men meet face-to-face with their clients as well as travel for business, like Willy Loman. In Season 7, the firm, Sterling Cooper, installs a giant computer, which most likely streamlined data analysis, something that remains crucial to effectively and efficiently market, sell, or advertise a product today. Do you know anyone in your life working in technology or marketing, advertising, or sales? Ask them if they remember a time when technology changed their profession or when they worked on a technology that changed how people market goods.

Death of a Salesman OnScreen In 1985, Death of a Salesman was adapted for TV on CBS and starred the same leads as the 1984 Broadway revival. Kate Reid reprised her role as Linda Loman, John Malkovich as Biff, Stephen Lang as Hap, Louis Zorich as Uncle Ben, and Dustin Hoffman as Willy Loman.

Death of a Salesman

Written by Arthur Miller Directed by Volker Schlรถndorff Starring | Dustin Hoffman, Kate Reid, John Malkovich, Stephen Lang & Louis Zorich Released | 1985 Running Time | 2 hrs 16 mins For digital access, visit the Chicago Public Library, YouTube, or click below. Graphic for Death of a Salesman. Film. 1985.

Death of a Salesman Directed by Volker Schlรถndorff

Three Sisters by Anton Chekhov

Goodman Theatre Presents…

Synopsis of the Play

Chekhov & Stanislavsky: The Creation of Three Sisters

Articles from the Goodman’s Study Guide for Uncle Vanya

Three Sisters OnScreen

Three Sisters OnScreen: An Adaptation

Behind the Scenes | At the Goodman

Olga (Susan Bruce), Masha (Jenny Bacon), and Irina (Calista Flockhart). Three Sisters. Goodman Theatre. 94/95 Photo by Eric Y. Exit.

Goodman Theatre Presents... by Brigitte Wittmer

Three Sisters

By Anton Chekhov Translated by Richard Nelson Directed by Robert Falls Season 94/95 March 10 - April 15, 1995 For the 1994/95 Season, Robert Falls directed Three Sisters by Anton Chekhov. He used a newly translated version by Richard Nelson, an award-winning, prolific playwright from Chicago after having seen it at the Guthrie Theatre in Minneapolis. Falls, having a deep-set appreciation for Chekhov, had wanted to direct this play for some time and was convinced to in part because of his time spent directing Eric Bogosian’s Suburbia in New York a year prior. Suburbia showed him the relevance of this show to a modern audience: it shows young people sitting around aimlessly and wondering if the next generation will move on or face the same existence. Chekhov similarly presents three sisters who hope for the future and to return to Moscow but

find themselves in a lonely country estate, falling in and out of their “black holes.” In rehearsals, Falls directed each actor to get to know his or her “black hole,” that is, the inner despair each character tries to stay away from. Falls also focused intently on each act, asking the actors to take the show act by act in order to stay “in the moment.” He tasked his actors to stay “in the moment” while dealing with this black hole and through this, to really understand the depth of their inner tension. Part of their turmoil came from living in their lonely country estate, beautifully designed, along with costumes,

by Santo Loquasto. Loquasto had designed almost a dozen shows with film director Woody Allen at this point in his career and has worked on many more since. After this production, he would become the set and costume designer for the Goodman’s Long Day’s Journey Into Night in 2002.The set of Three Sisters was an exquisitely detailed provincial home in Russia, with grand windows. Falls described it as “hyperrealistic,” that is, he wanted the stage to serve as a mirror to the audience. He wanted the audience to see themselves onstage and not dismiss what they see as a “costume piece.” LEFT: The country home of Three Sisters. Designed by Santo Loquasto. Goodman Theatre. 94/95. Photo by Eric Y. Exit. RIGHT: Cover of Eric Bogosian’s Suburbia. Design by Jo Bonney. © Theatre Communications Group, Inc.

Synopsis of Three Sisters Originally Printed in the Goodman’s OnStage

The three Prozorov sisters and their brother live in a small city in a far province of Russia, to which their father, an army general, was transferred from Moscow after their mother died. To them Moscow is still home, the center, the future, and they wait for the day they can return.

Three Sisters consists of four acts,

each set in a different season of the year, spread across approximately three and a half years. The play opens on the May birthday of Irina, the youngest sister. It is a year since the death of their father, but their home remains a center for the officers of the local regiment, one of whom, Tuzenbach, thinks he is in love with Irina. Olga, the oldest, works hard as a teacher and places the family’s hopes on their brother Andrei, who has completed university but has not yet settled into a career. The middle sister, Masha, regrets her early marriage to Kulygin, a teacher at the local high school. When Colonel Vershenin, the new commander of the regiment, stops by to pay his respects, Masha is intrigued Andrei too is in love, with Natasha, a local girl not of the same social rank as the Prozorov sisters. Act Two takes place deep in winter,

on the eve of Lent. Andrei and Natasha have married and their new baby gives Natasha a huge say in the running of the household. Andrei’s plans for a university career have evaporated and he is left frustrated as secretary to the local district council. Masha and Vershenin have begun their love affair. Tuzenbach continues to pursue Irina, who now works in the telegraph office, and continues to quarrel with the anti-social Solyony, another officer, who awkwardly confesses his own love for Irina. Late that evening, Andrei sneaks out to the gambling house with Chebutykin, the old army doctor who has boarded with the family for years. Natasha leaves to keep a rendezvous with Protopopov, the chairman of the district council. Act Three takes place in the middle of a summer night during a crisis: a large portion of the town is on fire. The house is full of people burned out of their homes, and the sisters struggle to find clothes and shelter for them. It’s a night of confession for everyone. Chebutykin drunkenly owns up to the aimlessness of his life and his failure as a doctor. Kulygin is

coming close to discovering Masha and Vershenin’s affair. Natasha has ruthlessly seized control of the household. Andrei confesses that he has mortgaged the house to pay his gambling debts. Irina persuades herself that she should marry Tuzenbach. Act Four. It is the following fall, and the regiment has been ordered to new quarters. With the departure of the regiment, most of the life will recede from the sisters’ backwater city. Tuzenbach’s ongoing rivalry with Solyony has led to a quarrel and a challenge to a duel. Andrei has been reduced to a nursemaid, pushing Natasha’s second baby in a pram while Natasha entertains Protopopov. Vershinin arrives to take a bitter and passionate leave of Masha. As the soldiers march off, Chebutykin brings the news that Tuzenbach has been killed in the duel. Irina, Masha, and Olga are left to console each other, to try once more to rouse their belief in the future.

LEFT: Vershenin (Ned Schmidtke) and Masha (Jenny Bacon). Three Sisters. Goodman Theatre. 94/95. Photo by Eric Y. Exit. ABOVE: Irina (Calista Flockhart) and Masha (Jenny Bacon). Three Sisters. Goodman Theatre. 94/95. Photo by Eric Y. Exit.

Chekhov & Stanislavsky: The Creation of

Three Sisters

Originally Printed in the Goodman’s OnStage

Chekhov and Stanislavsky needed and respected each other as artists, but one gets the impression that the relationship between them was somewhat prickly. On these pages we have assembled a Chekhov/ Stanislavsky commentary on the first production of Three Sisters -- using excerpts from Chekhov’s letters and a memoir of the playwright that Stanislavsky wrote in 1907, three years after Chekhov died. Stanislavsky writes from the perspective of Moscow and the Moscow Art Theatre. Chekhov is usually away from Moscow, his tuberculosis exiling him to healthier climates, though Chekhov undoubtedly did not mind that his absence allowed him to avoid squabbles around the theater and gave him the breathing room he needed in his romance with actress Olga Knipper. Stanislavsky: From the very start of the season Chekhov sent frequent letters on this or that subject. He begged us all to send him news of the theatre...And we were always egging him on to write a play. From his letters we gathered that he was writing a play, that it had to do with army life and that some regiment or other went somewhere or other. But we could not guess from the brief and random phrases he let drop what the real subject of the play was. Chekhov to Olga Knipper, August 8, 1900, Yalta: Now I am back home, lonesome, out of sorts, and won out. [Stanislavsky] was here yesterday. We spoke of the play and I gave him my word I would finish it not later than September. See what a bright boy I am. Your Antonio (Olga Knipper has been a found-

ing member of the Moscow Art Theatre, which Stanislavsky and Nemirovich-Danchenko started in 1897. Chekhov made her acquaintance during the production of The Seagull.) Chekhov to Olga Knipper, August 18, 1900, Yalta: The play is complete in my head, has taken form from where my imagination left off and is pleading to be set onto paper, but hardly do I place a sheet of paper in front of me than the door opens and some ugly mug intrudes. I don’t know how it is going to turn out, but the start is not bad, pretty smooth, I think. Your Antonio Stanislavsky: Either he was stuck in his writing or the play had long since been written and he was unwilling to let it go out of his hands but was making it lie there on his desk-- whatever the reason he kept postponing its dispatch to us. Chekhov to Olga Knipper, September 5, 1900, Yalta: ...there are a great many characters; it’s crowded; I’m afraid it will come out indistinct or pale, and so it would be better to put it off until next season. Your Antonio Chekhov to his sister Masha, September 9, 1900, Yalta: Writing The Three Sisters is very hard, harder than my earlier plays. But no matter, maybe it will come out all right, if not now, then next season. I may say in passing that writing in Yalta is a hard job; people bother me and in addition I seem to write without aim and I don’t like today what I wrote yesterday…

Yours, Chekhov Stanislavsky: Finally one or two acts of the play arrived, written in the familiar fine handwriting. We read them voraciously but, as always happens with any real writing for the stage, its principal beauties did not appear in our reading of it. With only two acts in our hands we could not work out stage sets, assign roles, nor begin any preparatory work for the production. So we tried by means of more energetic measures to get the other two acts. We finally succeeded but not without a struggle. Chekhov to Olga Knipper, September 15, 1900, Yalta: Four important female parts, four young women of the upper classes; I can’t leave that to Stanislavsky-with all due respect for his gifts and understanding. I must have at least a peep at the rehearsals. Your Antoine Chekhov to Olga Knipper, September 28, 1900, Yalta: Oh, what a role there is for you in The Three Sisters! What a role! If you give me ten rubles you’ll get it, otherwise I’ll give it to another actress. I won’t offer The Three Sisters this season; let the play lie a bit and ripen, or, as certain good ladies say about a cake when they put it on the table-- let it sigh. Your own Antoine (The role for Olga was, of course, Masha, the middle of the three sisters. Chekhov’s sister, another Masha, was a bit of a threat to his relationship with Knipper. Curious that the first production of his play arranges to provide him with an Olga/Masha. On October 23, Chekhov finally

(L to R) Vershenin, Irina, Masha, and Olga. Three Sisters. Goodman Theatre. 94/95. Photo by Eric Y. Exit.

arrived in Moscow and prepared for the first reading of his play with the Moscow Art Theatre company.) Stanislavsky: He never read his own plays aloud, so it was with considerable embarrassment and agitation that he listened to its first reading to the company. When this began and Chekhov was appealed to for explanations he was terribly embarrassed and kept refusing to say anything except: “Listen, I wrote it all down. Everything I knew.” The thing that astonished him most and with which he, to the day of his death, could not agree was that his Three Sisters (and later The Cherry Orchard) was a serious drama of Russian life. He was sincerely convinced that it was a gay comedy, almost a farce. (Upset by the reading, Chekhov went back to his hotel room and began to

revise. He had finished two acts before the winter weather forced him from Moscow to the south of France. Nemirovich-Danchenko, Stanislavsky’s co-director at the Theatre, visited Chekhov there to talk about the play, but the playwright unavoidably felt out of touch with rehearsals, which were just starting.) Chekhov to Olga Knipper, December 28, 1900, Nice: I was in such a hurry with the last act, thinking you people needed it. But it seems you won’t begin rehearsing before Nemirovich’s return. If I could only have kept this act another two or three days, I daresay it would have been much more meaty. Your Antoine Stanislavsky: He was present at nearly every rehearsal of his play

but only very seldom did he proffer an opinion and even then he did it cautiously, almost fearfully. There was only one thing he insisted upon with particular vehemence: as in Uncle Vanya he feared that in his play there might be a danger of caricaturing provincial life, of showing the army men as routine theatrical stuffed shirts with clanking spurs, instead of playing them as simple, nice, good people, dressed in worn out theatrical uniforms, without any military carriage, high shoulders, abrupt manners, etc. (Stanislavsky’s memory fails him here. Chekhov wasn’t present for any rehearsals of the first production, though he was around when the play was remounted the following season. Stanislavsky is quite correct, however, about Chekhov’s interest in the portrayal of army life. In fact, Chekhov arranged for an army colonel to

attend rehearsals to make sure the details were correct. Even for Stanislavsky, the master of realism, this became a bit too much when the colonel began giving him notes on the actors’ performances.) Chekhov to Stanislavsky, January 2, 1901, Nice: As to that old play, The Three Sisters, reading it at the Countess’ evening party is absolutely forbidden under any circumstances. For God’s sake, I beg of you, don’t read it, not by any means, nor in any manner, otherwise you will cause me a great deal of anguish. I sent Act IV off long ago, before Christmas, addressed to [Nemirovich-Danchenko]. I have made a great many changes. You tell me that in Act III, when Natasha makes the rounds of the house at night, she extinguishes the lights and looks for evildoers under the furniture. But it seems to me it would be preferable to have her walk across the stage in a straight line without looking at anything or anybody, a la Lady Macbeth, with a candle-- that way the scene would be shorter and more bloodcurdling… Yours, Chekhov Stanislavsky: Chekhov was not able to stay for the dress rehearsal of The Three Sisters. His health declined and forced him to go to a warmer climate, so he left for Nice. From there we received little notes--

in such and such a scene, after such and such words, “insert this phrase.” For example: “Balzac was married in Berdichev.”

may God give you strength! Consider me your debtor, that is all. Devotedly, Chekhov

(From Nice, Chekhov responded by mail to questions from the actors, often giving detailed instructions on the playing of a moment. Another actress, Maria Andreievna, who played Irina, apparently wrote him to convey a bit of actorly insecurity. Chekhov, who was not averse to lending his shoulder to young actresses, does his best to reassure her, in a textbook example of the theater art of keeping one’s true feelings absolutely private.)

Stanislavsky: How agitated Chekhov was about the opening of The Three Sisters can be judged by the fact that the day before it took place he left the town where we had his address and no one knew where he had gone, so that he could not be reached with the news of the play’s fate. Its success was equivocal. After the first act there was ringing applause. The actors took about twelve curtain calls. After the second act there was only one curtain call. After the third act there was some half-hearted applause but not enough to allow the actors to take a curtain call and after the fourth act they bowed only once. We had to do a considerable amount of inflating to wire Chekhov that the play was a “big success.”

Chekhov to Maria Andreievna, January 26, 1901, Nice: You write that I made you unhappy on my last visit, that I was afraid of speaking frankly, as it were, about The Three Sisters, etc., etc. Merciful Heavens! I wasn’t afraid of speaking frankly, I was afraid of intruding on you and purposely said nothing and restrained myself as much as possible, so as not to interfere with your work. If I were in Moscow I would certainly not undertake to make remarks except after the tenth rehearsal, and then, as a matter of fact, only on minor points. People write me from Moscow that you are magnificent in The Three Sisters, that your performance is downright marvelous, and I am glad-- very, very glad-- and

Chekhov to Olga Knipper, March 1, 1901, Yalta: Personally I am giving up the theatre entirely, and will never again write for it. It is possible to write for the stage in Germany, in Sweden, even in Spain, but not in Russia, where dramatic authors are not respected, are kicked around and are forgiven neither their successes nor their failures. Your Holy Hermit (A sentiment shared by virtually every playwright. But by the next autumn, Chekhov was back at work on the play, attending rehearsals and even taking over the direction of Act III from Stanislavsky. And a year and a half later he was deeply at work on his last play, The Cherry Orchard.) Stanislavsky quotes are from Stanislavsky’s Legacy, edited and translated by Elizabeth Hapgood, 1958. Excerpts from Chekhov’s letters are from The Selected Letters of Anton Chekhov, edited by Lillian Hellman and translated by Sidonie Lederer.

Three Sisters in rehearsal. Goodman Theatre. 94/95. Photo by Eric Y. Exit.

Articles from the Goodman’s Study Guide for Uncle Vanya by Anton Chekhov, 2017 Three Sisters takes place in the same setting as Uncle Vanya, which is at the Goodman in 2017. For more information on Chekhov and Russia at the turn of the 20th century, visit the Goodman’s Study Guide for Uncle Vanya, from this season 16/17.

7 “Melodrama, Realism, and Hyperrealism: The Revolutionary Style of Chekhov’s Theater” by Dani Weider Weider tracks the change from Melodrama to Realism in the late 19th century and compares this to modern playwright, Annie Baker, who adapted this version of Uncle Vanya and whose work is considered “hyperrealistic.” 11

“Crash Course in Russian History” compiled by Anna Gelman Included here are two videos (one crash course, and one more detailed), that fill in what politically shaped the country before, during and after Anton Chekhov’s life.

“Four Masterworks, One Brief Life” by Neena Arndt A look at Chekhov’s career and collaborations with the Moscow Art Theatre and Stanislavsky on Uncle Vanya, The Seagull, Three Sisters, and The Cherry Orchard.

Biography of Anton Chekhov from Encyclopaedia Britannica

“The Women of Uncle Vanya” by Brigitte Wittmer A look at the education, familial roles, work opportunities, and marriage expectations of women at the turn of the 19th century in Russia. This article looks at Yelena, Sonya, Maria, and Marina-- the women of Uncle Vanya-- but the women of Three Sisters come from similar circumstances and the same home setting.

“The Economic Landscape Surrounding Anton Chekhov” by Teresa Rende This article tracks Russia from the emergence of the Industrial Revolution in the 19th century through the signing of the October Manifesto by Nicholas II in 1905.

“The Urban/Rural Divide in Chekhov’s Russia” by Angie Feak

This article compares the urban/rural divide in America and Russia.

“Russian & American Geography” compiled by Brigitte Wittmer

Videos and other information comparing the geography of Russia and America.

Graphic Design for Uncle Vanya. Goodman Theatre. 16/17.

Three Sisters OnScreen

From 1965 to 1983, BBC produced a series called “Play of the Month” which televised films based on classic and contemporary stage plays. It featued films of plays from around the globe: Death of a Salesman by Arthur Miller, King Lear by Shakespeare, Cyrano de Bergerac by Edmond Rostand, Summer and Smoke by Tennessee Williams, Hedda Gabbler by Henrik Ibsen, and Pygmalion by George Bernard Shaw. The series also produced film version of Chekhov’s The Seagull, Uncle Vanya, The Wood Demon, and The Cherry Orchard. In 1970, Three Sisters was featured.

Three Sisters

Written by Anton Chekhov Directed by Cedric Messina Starring | Janet Suzman, Eileen Atkins, Michele Dotrice & Anthony Hopkins Released | 1970 Running Time | 2 hrs 10 mins This film is viewable below or on YouTube.

Three Sisters Directed by Cedric Messina

Graphic design for BBC’s Three Sisters. 1970. Photo courtesy of IMDB.

Three Sisters OnScreen: An Adaptation

Woody Allen, famous for movies like Annie Hall and recently A Midnight in Paris, wrote and directed a loose adaptation of Chekhovâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Three Sisters in New York. Entitled Hannah and Her Sisters, the movie reflects the basic dynamic of the sisters in the play: the eldest, Hannah, is a rock in the family while the middle sister is having an affair and the youngest is in her head, dreaming. How else does this compare/contrast Chekhovâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s play? To read more on the show, visit Biography.com.

Hannah and Her Sisters

Adapted from Three Sisters by Anton Chekhov Screenplay by Woody Allen Directed by Woody Allen

Starring | Mia Farrow, Barbara Hershey, Dianne Wiest & Michael Caine Released | 1986 Running Time | 1 hr 46 mins

Available to rent on DVD from Netflix or Chicago Public Library. Graphic design for Hannah and Her Sisters. 1986. Photo courtesy of IMDB.

Behind the Scenes | At the Goodman

The Seagull by Anton Chekhov

Goodman Theatre Presents…

Synopsis of the Play

Articles from the Goodman’s OnStage

for The Seagull

Articles from the Goodman’s Study

Guide for The Seagull

Articles from the Goodman’s Study

Guide for Uncle Vanya

The Seagull OnScreen

The Seagull. Goodman Theatre. 10/11. Photo by Liz Lauren.

Goodman Theatre Presents... by Brigitte Wittmer

The Seagull

By Anton Chekhov Directed by Robert Falls Season 10/11 October 16 - November 21, 2010 Prior to directing The Seagull, director Robert Falls spent time at the Moscow Art Theatre in Russia studying the techniques of Konstantin Stanislavsky who frequently collaborated with Chekhov in the late 19th century. He wanted to get back to the basics and understand the foundation of Stanislavskyâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s acting method, which had been adapted through the years. Through an extensive rehearsal process and a lot of research into their characters, the actors learned to react to their surroundings and the other characters, to move naturally through space with no need of blocking (defined staging positions common to final theatrical performances). In this way, no audience member ever

saw the same play twice, nor did the actors experience the same play night after night.

The Seagull was the first play that

Stanislavsky and Chekhov worked on together, so naturally, Falls would direct this show first following his studies in Russia. His most recent direction of Uncle Vanya was informed by his study, as well, as he developed the vision of the play with the cast, as opposed to coming into rehearsals with a set plan or interpretation. RIGHT: Graphic Design for The Seagull. Goodman Theatre. 10/11.

Nina (Heather Wood) performs in one of Konstantinâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s plays. The Seagull. Goodman Theatre. 10/11. Photo by Liz Lauren.

Synopsis of The Seagull

Originally on the Goodman’s Education page for The Seagull

It is a summer evening and a makeshift, homemade stage stands in the outdoor setting of Sorin’s estate and farm in the Russian countryside. A lake serves as natural scenery behind the stage. Medvedenko, a poor schoolteacher, believes he would be a happier man and a more attractive suitor to Masha, the daughter of the estate manager, Shamrayev, if he had more money. Snorting snuff, Masha openly acknowledges that she knows Medvedenko loves her but explains that she cannot love him back. She is fixated on her love for Konstantin Treplev, Sorin’s nephew.

from Hamlet. Treplev competitively responds by reciting Hamlet’s lines back to her, comparing Arkadina’s relationship with Trigorin to Gertrude’s tainted relationship with Claudius.

Treplev, son of the celebrated but aging actress Arkadina, is nervous and busy as he gets things ready for the first performance of his play. He knows his mother doesn’t support his work in the theater and fears she does not love him. He longs to be accepted as a great dramatist by her and her peers, the writers, actors and other artists who comprise the Russian intelligentsia, and not just because he is her son. Nina, the star of the play, arrives and tells Treplev that her parents are afraid she will want to become an actress if she spends time with the bohemians at Sorin’s estate. She says that it is the lake that attracts her to the estate, “as if I were a seagull.” Nina and Treplev kiss. Treplev tells her he loves her, but Nina does not return his affectionate talk.

Nina meets Trigorin for the first time and shows her surprise that Arkadina and Trigorin act like normal people even though they are famous. Arkadina laughs at Nina’s awe of Trigorin as a writer. Treplev re-enters with a rifle and a dead seagull in his hands. He puts the seagull at Nina’s feet. He tells her that he shot the bird in her honor and that one day he will be like the seagull. Nina accuses him of talking in symbols and they argue about their relationship. Treplev laments her change from warm to cold. Treplev expresses his conclusion that Nina stopped loving him because his play was a failure. Treplev exits bitterly when he sees Nina’s fondness for Trigorin.

Guests arrive for the play. They include Shamrayev and his wife Paulina, Dr. Dorn, Masha, Medvedenko, Sorin, his sister Arkadina and her lover, Trigorin. We learn that Paulina is still in love with the doctor. She begs him to rekindle their romance but Dorn is apathetic about her affection. Arkadina shows off to the group by reciting lines of Gertrude 26

Treplev’s play begins and it is abstract and symbolic. Arkadina rudely interrupts the performance several times by talking out loud to her friends and showing her dislike for her son’s play. When a special effect of red lights sulfur rises in a cloud from the stage, Arkadina makes such a fuss that Treplev ends the play and runs off.

Trigorin brings up the news that he and Arkadina are leaving the estate to go back to the city, explaining that his obsessive-compulsive behavior that forces him to document everything he observes in his memory and on paper for future use in a story. Trigorin sees the seagull that Treplev shot and writes down a note about Nina, saying that she has inspired him to start a new story about a girl

who is ruined by a man just like the seagull that Treplev destroyed. Announcing that she has been convinced to stay on the estate, Arkadina interrupts Trigorin and Nina. Masha keeps Trigorin company and confesses her plan to marry Medvedenko even though she doesn’t love him. Nina gives Trigorin a parting gift of a medallion with his initials inscribed on one side and the title of his book, “Days and Nights” on the other. She asks him to give her two minutes more before he leaves. Trigorin discovers that inscribed on the medallion is a page and line number from his book. As he goes off stage to find the book in order to read the quote to which Nina’s gift refers. Treplev, who has tried to kill himself, asks Arkadina to change the bandage on his head. They share some tender moments of lighthearted memories but their conversation soon disintegrates into insults and competitiveness. Treplev ends up crying, mourning the loss of Nina’s affection. Arkadina tries to cheer him up and tells him that Nina will soon come back to him because Arkadina is taking Trigorin away from the estate. Trigorin enters, mumbling the line from Nina’s inscription, “If you ever need my life, come take it.” He muses over the line and it means something to him. He asks Arkadina if they can stay. Arkadina challenges Trigorin about his interest in Nina. Trigorin portrays himself as a man who missed out on the splendors and excitement of youthful love because he spent his youth writing to make a name for himself. Fearing the loss of the man she loves, Arkadina pleads, kisses, flatters, and begs on her hands and knees for Trigorin to leave with her. Her persuasive talk convinces

Trigorin to leave but when he and Nina catch a few private moments, she tells Trigorin her plan to move to Moscow at once and to try her luck at an acting career. Trigorin tells Nina to stay at the Slavyansky Bazaar Hotel and to let him know as soon as she gets there. Before he rushes off to get in the carriage, he steals a long passionate kiss from Nina, sealing their promise to meet again. Two years have passed and on a stormy night, Medvedenko and Masha discuss Sorin’s fading health and his desire to be near Treplev. Medvedenko pleads with Masha to go home with him to their baby. Masha refuses. While Masha makes a bed for Sorin on the divan, Paulina comments that no one thought Kostya (Treplev) would become a genuine writer, but now he is making money writing and looks handsome. Masha tells her mother that Medvedenko has been offered a teaching job in another district, and they are to move away in a month. Dorn asks Treplev about Nina’s life now. Treplev tells Dorn that Nina had an affair with Trigorin and became pregnant. But the baby died and Trigorin left her and went back to Arkadina. Treplev recounts how Nina played starring roles in summer theater plays outside of Moscow that moved to the provinces but that she played her parts badly. He used to visit her on the road and see her perform, but Nina refused to see him. Treplev eventually gave up following her around. Nina would send Treplev troubled letters and sign them, “The Seagull.” Treplev compares Nina’s signature to a character in a Pushkin play who signs his name, “The Raven.” Treplev reveals that Nina is staying nearby in town at a hotel; Masha went to see her, but

Nina refused to talk to her. Nina’s parents have hired armed guards to keep her away from their house next door to Sorin’s estate and Medvedenko swears that he saw her walking through a nearby field. Arkadina and Trigorin return to the estate. Trigorin brings Treplev a copy of the latest magazine in which a story of his is published. Arkadina begins a game of lotto. She recalls her family’s tradition of playing the game to pass the time. Treplev notices that Trigorin read his own story in the magazine but did not bother to read Treplev’s. Treplev is left alone in his study. He looks over his writing and criticizes himself out loud for being cliché. He compares his writing to Trigorin’s with envy and despair. He hears a knock on the window. It is Nina. Nina enters the house paranoid about Arkadina finding her there and asks him to lock the door. Treplev props a chair against the door. Nina and Treplev admit to each other that they have sought each other. Nina’s speech becomes fractured and confusing. She cuts off her own thoughts. She says she is “the Seagull” and compares herself to a homeless wanderer in a Turgenev story. She cries. She says she feels better because she has not cried in two years. Nina acknowledges that Treplev is now a writer, and she became an actress but her life is difficult. She thinks nostalgically about their youth and their youthful love. Treplev again professes his love to Nina and recounts his torment when she left him, how nothing he has accomplished has been meaningful to him because she was not present to share in his successes. Nina tells Treplev about the

depression she suffered when she realized she was a bad actor. Her story breaks down, and she repeats Trigorin’s idea for a story about a girl who is destroyed like the seagull by a man who has nothing better to do. She concludes that what is important for an artist is not how successful you are but that you persevere. Nina becomes weaker. Treplev asks her to stay. Nina confesses to Treplev that she still profoundly loves Trigorin. She recites lines from the play remembering the innocence and hope that she and Treplev felt the summer they put it on. When Nina hears Trigorin’s laughter and realizes he has returned to the estate with Arkadina, she hugs Treplev goodbye and runs out. Treplev, recognizing that Nina’s love is lost to him, proceeds to tear up his manuscripts and throws them under his desk. Arkadina and the rest of the household come back from dinner and start another game of lotto. Dorn pushes in the door that Treplev propped closed with a chair. Shamrayev presents Trigorin with the stuffed seagull. Again, Trigorin says he does not remember asking for it to be stuffed. A shot goes off in a loud bang, offstage. Arkadina becomes frightened. Dorn calms her down presenting the thought that the sound was probably only a popped cork in a bottle in his medicine bag. Dorn goes to check on the sound and comes back to the group. He takes a magazine and brings Trigorin aside, pretending he is interested in discussing an article on America. Dorn tells Trigorin that he needs to get Irina Arkadina out of the house quickly because Treplev has shot himself. Arkadina does not hear Dorn’s sad news before the play’s end.

Articles from the Goodman’s OnStage for The Seagull, 2010 For information on the making of The Seagull and an interview with the director Robert Falls and, visit the Goodman’s OnStage magazine. 12

The Ascension of The Seagull by Neena Arndt A look at the original reception and creation of Chekhov’s The Seagull.

An Interview with Robert Falls by Tanya Palmer Tanya Palmer, the Director of New Play Development at the Goodman, interviews director Robert Falls on his studies in Russia, his history directing Chekhov plays, and his interest in directing this show.

ABOVE LEFT: Arkadina (Mary Beth Fisher). The Seagull. Goodman Theatre. 10/11. Photo by Liz Lauren. ABOVE: Dr. Dorn (Scott Jaeck) struggles to find a balance between the carefree life he once led and his consuming age. The Seagull. Goodman Theatre. 10/11. Photo by Liz Lauren, LEFT: Konstantin (Stephen Louis Grush) shows his affection for his mother, Arkadina (Mary Beth Fisher), after a traumatic experience. The Seagull. Goodman Theatre. 10/11. Photo by Liz Lauren.

Articles from the Goodman’s Study Guide for The Seagull, 2010 For information on the adaptation and context of the Goodman’s The Seagull, please visit the complete study guide. Descriptions of these articles can be found below. 2 “The Seagull and Me” by Willa J. Taylor, Walter Director of Education and Engagement Taylor, recalls the first time she saw The Seagull and the way she sees herself in the story. 3

“The Process of a Production” by William Landon This article explains the process of putting on a play starting with the choice of play and ending with the final technical rehearsal, right before the show opens to the public. It explains Robert Falls’ hands-off approach to developing the vision and movement of the show as well as how this relates to him and Mary Beth Fisher, who plays Arkadina, personally.

“Picture Perfect” by Elizabeth Mork This article explains the features of Goodman Theatre imagery, in particular the gritty, X-ray image of a seagull used as the graphic design for The Seagull.

“The How and Why of Adaptation” by Elizabeth Mork The trick to preserving the meaning of the original work in a new form is known as adaptation. The Seagull was adapted by Robert Falls to speak more clearly to a modern audience. Read this article for more on how to adapt a script. Arkadina (Mary Beth Fisher) introduces her young lover, Trigorin (Cliff Chamberlain), to her family and friends. The Seagull. Godman Theatre, 10/11. Photo by Liz Lauren.

Konstantin (Stephen Louis Grush) shares a stolen moment with Nina (Heather Wood) at his family’s estate. The Seagull. Goodman Theatre. 10/11. Photo by Liz Lauren.

“Novelist, Playwright, Short Story Composer: One Author” by Elizabeth Mork During his lifetime, Chekhov penned around a dozen plays, several novels and some 200 short stories. His works, often autobiographical in nature, reflect the different career paths and people that made up his life. This article also lists his major literary works.

“Misery” by Anton Chekhov

A short story from 1886 followed by an exercise on adapting this into a play based in Chicago. 26

“Medical Advances in 19th Century Russia” by William Landon The span of Chekhov’s career as a doctor saw changes in the medical industry that could have influenced his writing as well as his life outside his role as writer for the stage and novels. He instilled his work with his knowledge of objective observation and interest in case studies. Here are some of those medical advancements, many of which are still used today.

“A Study of Self” by Elizabeth Mork Russian writers more often than not place their character’s inner life at center. This article dives into one of Chekhov’s characters from his short story “The Kiss,” and notes the similar inner life present in the modern books and films of the Twilight series.

33 “Skin Deep” by Elizabeth Mork Anton Chekhov’s The Seagull illustrates that even in 19th century Russia those in the entertainment industry were hesitant to relinquish youth. This article looks at the culture of aging celebrities. 34 “Hero Worship: The Good and the Ugly” by William Landon This article explores the theme of celebrity worship in

Activity

based on the article “Hero Worship” You work as a journalist for a major magazine. You’ve just received your newest assignment: interview your greatest hero. This person can be a “major” or “minor” celebrity, or a “human interest” piece on someone closer to your personal life. This hero can also be living or deceased. Make a list of questions (no more than 10) that you would ask your hero in an interview about his/her life, achievements and career. Create a headline and introduction for the interview. Then think about how this person would respond to your questions. Base this on your own experiences and research if necessary. For more activities and discussion questions, visit the Goodman’s Education page for The Seagull.

The Seagull.

Arkadina (Mary Beth Fisher) passes the afternoon on the family’s estate with Dr. Dorn (Scott Jaeck) as (l to r) Shamrayev (Steve Pickering), Polina (Janet Ulrich Brooks), the maid (Rebecca Buller) Medvendenko (Demetrios Troy) and Konstantin (Stephen Louis Grush) look on. The Seagull. Goodman Theatre. 10/11. Photo by Liz Lauren.

Biography of Anton Chekhov from Encyclopaedia Britannica

“The Urban/Rural Divide in Chekhov’s Russia” by Angie Feak

This article compares the urban/rural divide in America and Russia.

“Russian & American Geography” compiled by Brigitte Wittmer

Videos and other information comparing the geography of Russia and America.

Graphic Design for Uncle Vanya. Goodman Theatre. 16/17.

The Seagull OnScreen

by Willa J. Taylor, Walter Director of Education and Engagement Originally Printed in “The Seagull and Me” in the Goodman’s Study Guide for The Seagull

Like Mary Beth Fisher, the brilliant actress who plays the narcissistic Arkadina in our production, I first got to know the play on television. I had been assigned the play to read one summer. There was a fabulous series produced at the public television studios in New York called Great Performances. Although now the series is almost exclusively music, dance and opera, back then it featured a lot of theatrical productions re-staged for the screen. This particular one starred some of my favorite actors – Frank Langella,

Blythe Danner, Olympia Dukakis, and Lee Grant. Unbeknownst to my mother, the librarian, I found out it was going to be on television. It was the same production that had run at the famous Williamstown Theater Festival outside Boston. I figured this would be just as good and a lot easier than trying to understand an old Russian play when I could be hanging with my friends.

than the book! But within a matter of minutes, it all changed. From the moment Danner ran on as Nina, I was hooked. Here were these young characters who were just like me – Masha, rebellious and restless, deeply in love with Konstantin; Nina, desperate to be a famous actress; and Konstantin, passionately obsessed and desperate for his mother’s approval.

When the performance started, I thought the impossible had happened; a TV show more boring

The Seagull

Written by Anton Chekhov Directed by John J. Desmond Starring | David Clenon, Blythe Danner, Olympia Dukakis, George Ede, Frank Langella, Lee Grant & Kevin McCarthy Released | 1975 Running Time | 1 hr 59 mins The movie is available below and on YouTube.

The Seagull

Graphic design for The Seagull. Film. 1975.

Directed by John J. Desmond

Long Day’s Journey Into Night by Eugene O’Neill

Goodman Theatre Presents...

Synopsis of the Play

Eugene O’Neill-- His Last Years

Long Day’s Journey Into Night: A Production History

The Four Haunted O’Neills

Ireland: A Brief History of the O’Neill’s Ancestry

Factory Work and Irish Immigrants

Long Day’s Journey Into Night OnScreen

Pamela Payton-Wright (Mary Cavan Tyrone) in Goodman Theatre’s 2001/02 season production of Eugene O’Neill’s Long Day’s Journey Into Night. Photo by Eric Y. Exit.

Goodman Theatre Presents... by Brigitte Wittmer

Long Day’s Journey Into Night By Eugene O’Neill Directed by Robert Falls

Season 01/02 February 22 - April 6, 2002 Broadway | Plymouth Theatre May 6 - August 31, 2003 Robert Falls directed Long Day’s Journey Into Night in 2002, which transferred to Broadway at the Plymouth Theatre in 2003. By this point, Falls had been recognized as an important interpreter of O’Neill and embarked on one of the playwright’s longest and most epic plays, Long Day’s Journey

Into Night.

This play spoke to Falls personally as his mother passed away before Long Day’s Journey premiered at the Goodman. The show would remind him of her everyday as he went on to remount the show on Broadway. Michael Phillips of the Chicago Tribune wrote: “‘For 42 years,’ Falls says, finishing his drink as the din from the bar

at Angus’ rises, ‘I was a son. My father’s son. My mother’s son. I defined my entire life from a son’s point of view. Then I had a son, and suddenly everything shifted. I became a father. Suddenly, you are a father, which allows you to have a sense of understanding and forgiveness of your own parents -- because, at some point, you hope to have the same understanding and forgiveness from them.’” Brian Dennehy once again starred in one of Falls’ productions and this time played James Tyrone, the curmudgeonly patriarch known singularly for performing in The Count of Monte Cristo for decades.

The original cast consisted of Brian Dennehy as James Tyrone, Pamela Payton-Wright as Mary Tyrone, Steve Pickering as James Tyrone, Jr., and David Cromer as Edmund Tyrone. In the Broadway production, Dennehy reprised his role as James, and Vanessa Redgrave played Mary, Philip Seymour Hoffman played James Jr., and Robert Sean Leonard played Edmund. Redgrave and Hoffman went on to receive Tony Awards for Best Actor and Actress in a Play and the production won Best Revival of a Play.

LEFT: PlayBill for Long Day’s Journey Into Night. Goodman Theatre. 01/02. MIDDLE: PlayBill for Long Day’s Journey Into Night. Transfer to Broadway at Plymouth Theatre from the Goodman. 2003. BELOW: Brian Dennehy (James Tyrone) in Long Day’s Journey Into Night. Goodman Theatre. 01/02. Photo by Eric Y. Exit.

Synopsis of Long Day’s Journey Into Night Originally Printed in the Goodman’s OnStage

After breakfast, the Tyrone family gathers in the living room of their New England summer home. Patriarch James scolds his wife Mary for not eating enough, berates his elder son Jamie for his degenerate lifestyle, and chastises his second son Edmund for not taking care of himself properly. Jamie clashes with his father over his failure as an actor despite James’ considerable influence on the theater world. Edmund tries to prepare his mother for the possibility that his summer cold is more severe than she had imagined. As lunch is being served, Mary’s detachment is noted by the rest of the family. Alarmed by suspicions that Mary’s drug addiction has returned, James and his sons search for reasons for her lapse in each other’s failings. Despite their concern for Mary, each finds an excuse to exile himself from the house and Mary is left alone.

nizes the signs of Mary’s condition and resigns himself to the evening ahead. In the dead of night, the Tyrone men wait for Mary to go to sleep. Shots of whiskey, which have lubricated the family quarreling all day, continue to be poured. From quoting poetry and telling stories, James, Jamie, and Edmund turn on one another, using Mary’s morphine addiction as the linchpin for cycles of accusation and recrimination. When she emerges from upstairs, Mary’s rambling narrative of things past drives each of them

into uneasy silence. The play ends with the four haunted Tyrones still journeying into darkness, lost amidst the love and the guilt they carry for each other.

Daylight burns away and fog enshrouds the house as dinner approaches. Edmund confirms what the family had feared-- he has tuberculosis and needs to enter a sanatorium. As Mary dredges up a history of neglect to explain away Edmunds frail health, James recogTOP: Goodman Theatre’s 2001/02 season production of Eugene O’Neill’s Long Day’s Journey Into Night. David Cromer (Edmund Tyrone) and Pamela Payton-Wright (Mary Cavan Tyrone). Photo by Eric Y. Exit. ABOVE: Goodman Theatre’s 2001/02 season production of Eugene O’Neill’s Long Day’s Journey Into Night. Pamela Payton-Wright (Mary Cavan Tyrone) and Brian Dennehy (James Tyrone). Photo by Eric Y. Exit. LEFT: Goodman Theatre’s 2001/02 season production of Eugene O’Neill’s Long Day’s Journey Into Night. David Cromer (Edmund Tyrone) and Steve Pickering (James Tyrone, Jr.). Photo by Eric Y. Exit.

Eugene O’Neill: His Last 5 Years Originally Printed in the Goodman’s OnStage

By the time Eugene O’Neill began working on Long Day’s Journey Into Night in 1939, he had already written more than 30 plays and received 3 Pulitzer Prizes-- for Beyond the Horizon (1920), hailed at the time as “the first authentic American tragedy;” Anna Christie (1922); and Strange Interlude (1928). Despite the fact that no new work of his had appeared on Broadway in more than five years, he had been honored just three years earlier with the 1936 Nobel Prize for Literature. He had been too ill to attend the ceremony, but had sent a letter of acceptance acknowledging his artistic debt to Swedish playwright August Strindberg. O’Neill was 50 years old in 1939 and, in the words of biographers Arthur and Barbara Gelb, “at the peak of his artistic power.” He and his third wife, stage actress Carlotta Monterey, with whom he had eloped in 1928, were living on a secluded, 156-acre estate in the foothills east of San Francisco that they had purchased with O’Neill’s Nobel Prize cash award. The decor of “Tao House,” as the couple had chris-

tened it, was heavily influenced by their shared fascination with eastern culture and philosophy. Carlotta, always one of O’Neill’s fiercest protectors and champions, went to great lengths to make sure that Tao House would provide her husband with the kind of peace and solitude that he required for his work. Even the walled gardens and pathways around the house were designed in keeping with the ancient principles of feng shui, while dark blue ceilings, drawn shades, and tinted mirrors created a subdued atmosphere indoors. O’Neill rarely left the grounds of Tao House and, in fact, often spent long stretches of time sequestered in his private study, a wood-paneled room furnished with two desks and shelves of his most treasured books. No one, including Carlotta, entered the study without O’Neill’s explicit invitation. Thus freed from distractions, save his own failing health, O’Neill was able to concentrate in earnest on his most ambitious and daunting project, the completion of a cycle of eleven plays tracing the history of

an Irish-American family through several generations, from 1700 to the present. O’Neill rose early and wrote late into the night, routinely pausing only to eat, nap, or play with his dog, Blemie. Taking afternoon swims, gardening, and walking with Carlotta also afforded him brief respite from his work. O’Neill was afflicted with a form of Parkinson’s Disease, which had an especially debilitating effect on his hands. As a result, the psychological challenge of transforming complex and often tragic personalities and events drawn from his own family history into a coherent and truthful work of art was compounded by the tremors and crippling pain that he had to endure in order to grip a pencil. When O’Neill was forced to concede that it would be physically impossible to complete the cycle of plays he had originally envisioned, he chose instead to devote himself to finishing what are widely regarded as his two greatest plays, The Iceman Cometh (completed in December 1939) and Long Day’s Journey Into Night. Having set a more realistic goal for himself, O’Neill was nevertheless in a race against the enemies of time and degenerative illness. By all accounts, O’Neill worked virtually non-stop on Long Day’s Journey Into Night. Having a small bed in the room adjacent to his study enabled him to rest only as needed and return directly to his writing. It was a grueling process that occasionally reduced him to tears and, as some biographers have suggested, may also have led O’Neill to render his characters with greater compassion than is evident in his earlier plays. Eugene O’Neill House, Kuss Road, Danville, Contra Costa County, CA. Photo Courtesy of Getty Images.

O’Neill finished the final draft of Long Day’s Journey Into Night in the spring of 1941 and dedicated the play to Carlotta in honor of their 12th anniversary. When the United States entered World War II in December, it soon took a toll on the household staff, leaving O’Neill and Carlotta to fend for themselves. O’Neill still managed to work on his final play, A Moon for the Misbegotten, but by 1943-- the same year in which O’Neill’s daughter Oona married Charlie Chaplin in a secret ceremony in Santa Barbara-- he and Carlotta had no choice but to sell Tao House and move into a small apartment in San Francisco. The final ten years of O’Neill’s life, culminating with his death from bronchial pneumonia on November 27, 1953, were essentially a downhill slide punctuated more often than not by fresh disappointments and family tragedies. Shortly after moving to San Francisco, O’Neill suffered a stroke which left him bedridden for several months and a permanent semi-invalid, on top of which Carlotta’s health was also in decline. In February of 1946, O’Neill’s infant grandson and namesake died as a result of accidental suffocation-- what was then known as “crib death.” What might have been genuine cause for celebration later the same year-- the much-anticipated Broadway opening of The Iceman Cometh in October of 1946-proved otherwise. Already dispirited by wrangling with the Theatre Guild over casting and script changes, O’Neill was “deeply wounded” by the unenthusiastic response of critics and audiences who had previously greeted his new plays with raves. When the Theatre Guild’s road tryout of A Moon for the Misbegotten 38

Portrait of Eugene O’Neill and Carlotta Monterey O’Neill. 1933. Photo Courtesy of Getty Images.

closed before reaching Broadway, O’Neill and Carlotta abruptly vacated their suite of rooms at the Barclay Hotel in New York and moved to Marblehead, Massachusetts. To make matters even worse, in September of 1950, O’Neill’s oldest child, Eugene Jr. committed suicide by slitting his wrists and ankles in his bathtub. O’Neill did not attend the funeral and, subsequently, he and Carlotta entered a period of marital conflict that involved counter-accusations of insanity and physical abuse fueled by excessive drinking and depression. Following one argument, O’Neill fell outside his Marblehead home and fractured his knee, and his general condition was so poor by March of 1951 that he had to be hospitalized. Eventually, O’Neill and Carlotta reconciled -- perhaps by virtue of the deep affection they had once shared, or perhaps because of

Carlotta’s awareness that O’Neill was close to death and dependent upon her care. In any event, Carlotta nursed her husband until his death and, in accordance with his wishes, had him buried without ceremony in Boston’s Forest Hills Cemetery. In return for her devotion, O’Neill willed Carlotta full control of his estate. The full implication of this tacit bargain would not become obvious until 1956, when -- in direct contradiction to O’Neill’s express stipulation that Long Day’s Journey Into Night not be published until 25 years after his death, and that it never be produced-- Carlotta granted director José Quintero the rights to produce the American premiere of the play. Quintero’s production opened on Broadway on November 7, 1956, and the play earned Eugene O’Neill his fourth Pulitzer Prize, awarded posthumously.

Long Day’s Journey Into Night: A Production History by Brigitte Wittmer

Long Day’s Journey Into Night pre-

miered in Stockholm Sweden at the Royal Dramatic Theatre to much praise. The Swedish in general tended to love his plays, notably because they resembled those of their lauded playwright August Strindberg. O’Neill, in his acceptance speech for the Nobel Prize in 1936 (which a proxy read due to his illness), owed a great debt to Strindberg for influencing him to write for the theater and showing him what modern drama could be (EONeill.com). O’Neill had willed that Long Day’s Journey Into Night never be published or produced until 25 years after his death, which came in 1953, but on his deathbed, asked that Stockholm’s Royal Dramatic Theatre be the first to stage it. By the mid-20th century, this theater had staged more of his plays than any other theater in the world. Carlotta granted them the rights to premiere the show in 1956, only three years after his death. In following his will, though far before the 25-year latent period ended, Carlotta also

arranged that the royalties from all performances in Sweden be granted to the actors of Dramatic Theatre from that point forward. Later that year, the play premiered on Broadway under the direction of José Quintero who also directed the Broadway premiere of The Iceman Cometh the same year. Long Day’s Journey Into Night is regarded as O’Neill’s magnum opus, followed closely by or to some equal in stature to, The Iceman Cometh. Jason Robards, Jr. played both Hickey in the latter and James Tyrone Jr. (Jamie) in the premiere Broadway productions. In 1988, Robards would again appear in Long Day’s Journey Into Night on Broadway, this time as James Tyrone, Sr. This production was also directed by Quintero and produced in association with Yale Repertory Theatre and The Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts during the first New York International Festival of the Arts. Quintero and Robards, Jr. would continue to

Dean Stockwell, Ralph Richardson, Jason Robards and Katharine Hepburn from the film ‘Long Day’s Journey Into Night’, 1962. Photo courtesy of Republic Pictures/Getty Images.

Premiere production of Long Day’s. Stockholm, Sweden. 1956. Photo by Carl Mydans/ The LIFE Picture Collection/Getty Images.

collaborate on other O’Neill shows including A Moon for the Misbegotten, Hughie, Ah! Wilderness, and A Touch

of the Poet.

In 1962, Katherine Hepburn, a screen legend known for her independence, gender-bending attire, as well as for receiving an unprecedented 4 Oscars for Best Actress, starred as the morphine-addicted matriarch, Mary Tyrone in Embassy Picture’s version of Long Day’s Journey Into Night. The film was directed and adapted by Sidney Lumet, who also directed O’Neill’s The Iceman Cometh and Chekhov’s The Seagull (which is featured in this study guide) for the screen. Jason Robards, Jr. reprised his role as the eldest son, Jamie Tyrone for this film. Ruby Dee starred as Mary Tyrone in an all-black version of Long Day’s Journey Into Night, presented on ABC in 1982. For her performance she won an Award for Cable Excellence (ACE). Dee was a civil rights leader, actor, and author who paved the way for

numerous stage credits) as Mary Tyrone, Philip Seymour Hoffman (Doubt, Capote, Along Came Polly) as Jamie, and Robert Sean Leonard (Dead Poets Society, House) as Edmund. Brian Dennehy is a long time collaborator of Robert Falls, the Artistic Director of the Goodman. Together they have staged many of O’Neill’s plays, including the three in this study guide as well as Arthur Miller’s Death of a Salesman. Hoffman and Redgrave both received Leading Actor Awards at the Tonys in 2003 and the production took home a Tony for Best Revival. Publicity still of actress Ruby Dee in ‘The Jackie Robinson Story’ (Eagle Lion Films), 1950. Photo by John D. Kisch/Separate Cinema Archive/Getty Images.

further generations of actors of color. She starred in other movies including American Gangster (2007) as Mama Lucas and A Raisin in the Sun as Ruth Younger in 1961. She was the first African American to play major roles in the American Shakespeare Festival in Connecticut, and in 2004 was awarded alongside her long-time collaborator and partner Ossie Davis at the Kennedy Center for her life’s work. Other notable productions include the 1986 run of Long Day’s Journey Into Night at the Broadhurst Theatre on Broadway which featured Kevin Spacey as Jamie Tyrone. Spacey has also appeared in popular movies including American Beauty (1999) as Lester Burnham, a suburban father who channels his sexual frustration towards his daughter’s best friend. He won Best Actor in a Leading Role at the Oscars for this role. He also currently plays Francis Underwood in the House of Cards, the conniving American congressman, for which he won a Golden Globe in 2015. In 2003, the Goodman’s production of Long Day’s Journey Into Night, directed by Robert Falls, transferred to Broadway with a star-studded cast. Brian Dennehy appeared as James Tyrone, Vanessa Redgrave (Mission Impossible, Lee Daniels’ The Butler, and

In 2015, the Oregon Shakespeare Festival produced Long Day’s Journey with a particularly unique set: a tree was growing through the house. A trunk grew through a high staircase and broke off into branches that loomed above the set. In a review from Mail Tribune, Bill Varblefor saw the tree as a symbol of the way the family’s past powerfully permeates this broken home: “The action unfolds over one long, foggy August day in 1912 at the Tyrone family’s summer cottage in Connecticut, rendered by set designer Christopher Acebo with a living room table and chairs and a great staircase through part of which a tree grows. As the action unfolds, every problem these troubled characters face has its roots in a past whose power stretches

inexorably forward as if decreed by some modern oracle at Delphi.” Set designer Christopher Acebo and director Christopher Liam Moore sought to create a haunting, amorphous, seemingly insubstantial world where the characters seemed to materialize in and out of the central table room. They achieved this in part by utilizing scrim walls, a gauze-like material that only allows light to pass through it when lit from behind rather than lit directly. For more information, interviews, and pictures of this show, visit the Oregon Shakespeare Festival’s webpage on the show. In 2016, Jessica Lange, another famed actress known for her recent roles in American Horror Story and Academy Award-winning performances in Tootsie and Blue Sky, played Mary Tyrone on Broadway at Roundabout Theatre. She received the Tony for Best Actress in a Leading Role for this revival. Lange performed alongside Gabriel Byrne (The Usual Suspects) and Michael Shannon (High Crimes, Bad Boys II). The production also received the Tony for Lighting Design by Natasha Katz. This only begins to tackle the incredible productions created since the show premiered in 1956. Further reviews of these and other shows can be found on EONeill.com, the Internet Movie Database, and the Internet Broadway Database.

Long Day’s Journey Into Night: OSF, 2015 by Oregon Shakespeare Festival

The Four Haunted O’Neills Originally Printed in the Goodman’s OnStage

Long Day’s Journey Into NIght is as thinly disguised an autobiographical play as ever written. The four principal characters

are accurate portraits of the playwright’s mother, father, brother, and himself. O’Neill compressed the action of the play to a single day in August, 1912, the most crucial year of O’Neill’s life. He set it in the house the family bought as a summer residence in New London, Connecticut, Monte Cristo Cottage. Here follows an account of the four O’Neills, and where they were in their actual lives in 1912. JAMES O’NEILL He had been one of the most promising young actors of the American stage, but his career as an artist was damaged by the great popularity of his performance as Edmond Dantes in The Count of Monte Cristo. Pleased by the acclaim he won in the role and by the financial security the role brought, James O’Neill played it for more than thirty years. Early on, he knew it was a trap for him, but could not stay away from it. By 1908 he estimated that he had performed the play 5,678 times. Eventually the play was boiled down to 45 minutes and became a featured act on the vaudeville circuits. In 1912, at the age of 66, he played it for the cameras of Adolph Zukor’s Famous Players Film Company. ELLA QUINLAN O’NEILL Ella lost her second child to measles in 1885, a mishap she sometimes blamed on her firstborn Jamie, whose own case of measles may have infected his brother. When Eugene was born three year later, Ella was given morphine to ease her pain. She became addicted, and used morphine-- available without a prescription at that time-- for the next 25 years, except for a few periods after taking “cures.” Ella had few friends, was not happy as a homemaker, and never felt comfortable in her New London home. Her family continually made excuses for her behavior and absence on social occasions. Ella finally beat her addiction in 1913, and apart from the death of her husband, was relatively happy until her own passing in 1922. JAMES O’NEILL, JR. At the time the play is set, James O’Neill, Jr. was trying unsuccessfully to dry himself out in a sanatorium for alcoholics. Known as Jamie in the family, the firstborn son had been an excellent student early on, but had gotten himself kicked

out of college for his drinking and association with prostitutes. He only briefly held jobs on his own, more often relying on his father for handouts or for roles in his father’s acting company, work he would insult to his father’s face. He was devoted to his mother, however, and after his father’s death, was her constant companion, even giving up drinking during his mother’s last two years. But when Ella died, Jamie went to pieces, as Eugene O’Neill depicts in A Moon for the Misbegotten, and died of acute alcoholism in 1923 at the age of 45.

ABOVE: James O’Neill. Father of Eugene O’Neill. 1900. Bettmann/Getty Images. BELOW: Ella O’Neill. Mother of Eugene O’Neill. Photo courtesy of Beinecke Rare Book and Manuscript Library.

EUGENE O’NEILL While he uses his father’s and brother’s real names for the characters they inspired in Long Day’s Journey Into Night, Eugene O’Neill did not use his own name for his stand-in in the play. Instead, he names himself Edmund, the name of his older brother, who had died as a baby. The year 1912 began with Eugene O’Neill living in a waterfront drive in New York CIty, a bar much like the one depicted in The Iceman Cometh. Like his brother, Eugene lived on handouts from his father. Sometime that spring, he tried to commit suicide in his room above the bar with an overdose of veronal tablets (trade name for barbiturate drugs used to suppress the nervous system/induce sleep). In the fall of the year, what seemed to be a persistent cold sent Eugene to the doctor. In November he was diagnosed with consumption, or tuberculosis. After a two-day stay at a state tuberculosis sanatorium in early December, Eugene, accompanied by his father, arrived at Connecticut’s Gaylord Farm Sanatorium on Christmas eve. He stayed for five months, and he left the sanatorium convinced that his life would be dedicated to writing plays.

Ireland: A Brief History of the O’Neills’ Ancestry by John Francisco and Megan McCabe Originally Printed in the Goodman’s Study Guide for Long Day’s Journey Into Night

Eugene O’Neill once said, “the critics have missed the most important thing about me and my work, the fact that I am Irish.” In O’Neill’s Long Day’s Journey Into Night, Tyrone often defends his ancestral land of Ireland. James O’Neill’s parents were Irish immigrants who moved to America in the 1850s to escape the potato famine. The poverty and devastation that the famine caused was felt throughout generations of both the Irish and Irish-Americans. Here’s a look at Ireland and the history of the Great Famine, and its effect on the O’Neill clan.

IRELAND

Ireland is the second largest island of the British Isles. It is west of Great Britain, surrounded by the North Atlantic Ocean, the North Channel, the Irish Sea, St. George’s Channel, and the Celtic Sea. Known as the “emerald isle,” Ireland’s famous green grass flourishes with the often rainy weather. Currently, Ireland is divided into two political units: Northern Ireland (which is joined with Great Britain in the United Kingdom) and the Republic of Ireland.

HISTORY

The first inhabitants of Ireland were those who had lived in the British Isles. For centuries BC, some Celtic tribes invaded Ireland and created their own distinct culture. The Celtic people were organized by clans, most of that were loyal to one of the five provincial kings. These kings were under the authority of the High King of all Ireland. There was often civil unrest between the fighting clans. At this time, Ireland greatly appreciated literature and art. In fact, each king or chief kept an official poet (Druid) in order to keep record of the oral traditions. Gaelic was the language of the Celtic people. 42

POLITICS & RELIGION

At one time, pagan religions dominated, although Christianity soon spread with the arrival of St. Patrick in the 5th century. Ireland soon produced many missionaries that spread Christianity throughout Europe. The Book of Kells, one of Ireland’s most noted works of art, chronicles Christianity. The struggle between Britain and the Irish began in 1171, when Henry II of England went to Ireland and assumed rule, after being granted rein by Pope Adrian IV. This battle over control between Britain and the Irish lasted for over 800 years. Religion also became an issue in this struggle, when Henry VIII established a Protestant “Church of Ireland” in 1537. Also during this time period, he eradicated monasteries and took over lands owned by Catholics. Because the majority of the Irish were Roman Catholic, this religious factor only added the tension between the Irish and the British. ABOVE: Map of Ireland. Courtesy of irelandmap.facts.co. RIGHT: St. Patrick. Courtesy of Stringer/Getty Images.

Did you know? St. Patrick’s Day is named after St. Patrick, who is associated with bringing Christianity to Ireland in the 5th century? “The March 17 celebration started in 1631 when the Church established a Feast Day honoring St. Patrick. He had been Patron Saint of Ireland who had died around the 5th century—a whopping 12 centuries before the modern version of the holiday was first observed... Legend says St. Patrick was actually born Maewyn Succat, but that he changed his name to Patricius (or Patrick), which derives from the Latin term for “father figure,” after he became a priest. And that supposed luck of his is the root of all the themed merchandise for modern St. Patrick’s Day.”

Visit Time magazine for more info on the origins of this day.

Factory Work and Irish Immigrants by John Francisco and Megan McCabe Originally Printed in the Goodman’s Study Guide for Long Day’s Journey Into Night

According to Mary, James Tyrone had a very hard life. His parents were Irish immigrants at a time where America had little to offer the Irish. Immigrants worked hard and long hours for little pay. Often the Irish were stereotyped as lazy, ignorant, and immoral. Just as African Americans were stereotyped, the Irish were even represented as less than human. They were prejudiced against for both their origin and their religion, Catholicism. Many employers refused to hire Irish Catholics, hanging signs in their windows, “Help Wanted, No Irish Need Apply.” This sort of discrimination made it almost impossible for many Irish to stay out of poverty. These economic hardships existed in Tyrone’s family: his father deserted his mother and five siblings, leaving Tyrone to work in a machine shop at the age of ten. THE ECONOMIC PANIC OF 1857 The year was 1857, and ten yearold James Tyrone had to work in a factory to help support his family. As with Tyrone, times were tough for many, as the United States was in one of its worst economic declines to that date. At the time, there had been extensive manufacturing of railroads. One of the financial backers of the railroads, Ohio Life Insurance and Trust Company, went bankrupt due to internal corruption in its New York office. Bankers in New York grew fearful, and demanded immediate payment on all loans from those who were short on cash. A panic ensued, causing many to withdraw gold from banks. As a result of the panic, thousands of businesses closed, thousands were out of work and stocks collapsed.

In the first panel people of Irish and Chinese descent are eating Uncle Sam; in the second scene they finish eating Uncle Sam, and in the third scene the Chinese-American eats the Irish-American. Many native-born Caucasian Americans feared the new wave of immigration and many considered Chinese-Americans a negative influence on American society (similar to the anti-Irish and anti-German sentiment, which started during the antebellum era). Photo courtesy of Library of Congress.

‘Police Charge Rioters At The Tribune Office’, c1860s. In 1863, during the American Civil War, opponents of conscription rioted at the offices of the Daily Tribune in New York. A getout clause in the draft legislation, known as the Rich Man’s Exemption, caused anger among the poor of New York City, especially Irish immigrants. The Irish are caricatured here as having ape-like faces. Photo by The Print Collector/Print Collector/Getty Images.

Long Day’s Journey Into Night OnScreen In 1962, Katherine Hepburn, a screen legend known for her independence, gender-bending attire, as well as for receiving an unprecedented 4 Oscars for Best Actress, starred as the morphine-addicted matriarch, Mary Tyrone in Embassy Picture’s version of Long Day’s Journey Into Night. The film was directed and adapted by Sidney Lumet, who also directed O’Neill’s The Iceman Cometh and Chekhov’s The Seagull (which is featured in this study guide) for the screen. Jason Robards, Jr. reprised his role as the eldest son, Jamie Tyrone for this film.

Long Day’s Journey Into Night Written by Eugene O’Neill Directed by Sidney Lumet

Starring | Katherine Hepburn, Ralph Richardson, Jason Robards & Dean Stockwell Released | 1962 Running Time | 2 hrs 54 mins This film is available from Chicago Public Library. Graphic design for Long Day’s Journey Into Night. Film. 1962.

Trailer | Long Day’s Journey Into Night Directed by Sidney Lumet

Goodman Theatre Presents...

47 Why Desire Under the Elms? 48

Synopsis of the Play

Articles from the Goodman’s OnStage for Desire

In Performance | At the Goodman

Behind the Scenes | At the Goodman

Controversy! The Reception of Desire

Articles from the Goodman’s Study Guide for Desire

Desire Under the Elms OnScreen

TOP: Graphic design for Desire Under the Elms. Goodman Theatre. 08/09. ABOVE: Set of Desire Under the Elms. Set Design by Walt Spangler. Goodman Theatre. 2009. Photo by Liz Lauren.

Goodman Theatre Presents... by Brigitte Wittmer

“A Global Exploration: Eugene O’Neill in the 21st Century”

Desire Under the Elms By Eugene O’Neill Directed by Robert Falls

Season 08/09 January 17 - March 1, 2009 Broadway | St. James Theatre April 27 - May 24, 2009 In 2009, the Goodman crafted an international festival on the works of American playwright Eugene O’Neill, titled “A Global Exploration: Eugene O’Neill in the 21st Century.” Until Desire Under the Elms, Goodman Artistic Director Robert Falls had been traveling the globe to get a sense of the way O’Neill was being interpreted around the world and to form relationships with selected directors and theatre companies. This was just the first step in the Goodman’s new international initiative, which was intended both to bring international companies and

artists to the Goodman and to take the Goodman’s productions to other countries. Theater practitioners from The Netherlands, Brazil, New York City, and Chicago reimagined O’Neill’s plays during the “Exploration” for which Robert Falls chose Desire Under the Elms. This play showcased, along with the others, how O’Neill experimented with form and content, drawing on Greek tragedy and the life of 19th century New England farmers. The Goodman’s production

had its own curiosities: the stage had no elm trees. Instead, set designer, Walt Spangler, fashioned a floating country home surrounded by mounds of stones. Variety described the set as “daring, imposing, acutely provocative and probably purposefully perplexing:” a perfect fit for the season. For more information on the companies and productions in this “Global Exploration,” visit page eight of Goodman’s Study Guide for Desire Under the Elms.

LEFT: Desire Under the Elms PlayBill. Goodman Theatre. 08/09. MIDDLE: Desire Under the Elms PlayBill. Broadway. St. James Theatre. 2009. RIGHT: Carla Gugino (Abbie Putnam). Goodman. Theatre, Desire Under the Elms. 08/09. Photo by Liz Lauren.

Why Desire Under the Elms? by Robert Falls

both comprehensive and theatrically compelling.

To me, Eugene O’Neill is the American Shakespeare. In an era when most playwrights were concentrating on popular entertainments, O’Neill single-handedly invented the serious American drama, creating a massive body of work that was far-ranging both in style and subject matter. Although O’Neill is often considered a realist, I think of him as an experimentalist influenced by many of the great European intellects of his day (Strindberg, Ibsen, Nietzsche), yet writing with a sensibility that was truly American. At the end of his life, he created works that still stand at the pinnacle of American drama: The

Iceman Cometh, A Touch of the Poet, A Moon for the Misbegotten, Hughie and Long Day’s Journey Into Night. O’Neill was a product of the 19th century writing in the first half of the 20th century. Are his works still relevant today? How do artists of the 21st century approach these plays, bringing them to life with the same vitality and sense of exploration that imbued their first productions? To answer these questions, I invited some of the most forward-thinking directors from around the world to explore O’Neill’s earlier works, using their own contemporary sensibilities to interpret plays that have formed the bedrock of the modern American theater. The result is “A Global Exploration: Eugene O’Neill in the 21st Century,” which I think will afford audiences, critics and scholars an opportunity to see the span of O’Neill’s work in a context that is

At the center of this exploration will be my own production of O’Neill’s first great tragedy, Desire Under the Elms, which will include three outstanding actors: my longtime collaborator Brian Dennehy (considered to be one of the world’s greatest O’Neill interpreters), Carla Gugino and Pablo Schreiber. The Wooster Group, one of America’s foremost theater companies, will present O’Neill’s early expressionistic drama The Emperor Jones, a production that I think is one of the most stunning pieces of theater created in the past half century. From Amsterdam, Toneelgroep presents their stripped-down, highly contemporary, electrifying Mourning Becomes Electra, created by the brilliant director Ivo van Hove. São Paulo’s Companhia Triptal will present André Garolli’s extraordinarily theatrical interpretations of three of O’Neill’s early “Sea Plays,” seen here for the first time in America. Finally, I am thrilled to present productions by two of Chicago’s leading experimental theater companies: The Hairy Ape, directed by Sean Graney and featuring members of

The Hypocrites; and Strange Interlude, O’Neill’s Jazz Age epic directed by Greg Allen and featuring The Neo-Futurists. This astonishing collection of artists and plays offers an unprecedented look at the scope of O’Neill’s writing through the eyes of today’s most exciting interpreters. I am very proud of the range of this “Exploration”—and I hope that you will share our enthusiasm as we bring to our stages the works of the greatest of American playwrights. ABOVE: Robert Falls in rehearsal for Desire. Photo by Eric Y. Exit. BELOW: Pablo Schrieber (Eben Cabot) in rehearsal for Desire. Photo by Eric Y. Exit. BOTTOM: Carla Gugino, Brian Dennehy, and Robert Falls in rehearsal for Desire. Goodman Theatre. 08/09. Photo by Eric Y. Exit.

Synopsis of Desire Under the Elms Originally Printed in the Goodman’s PlayBill

Sparked by the dark hollows and brilliant imaginings of his subconscious, master playwright Eugene O’Neill conceived Desire Under the Elms as he slept one night, resulting in a work with the powerful emotional pitch of a fever dream. Elder Ephraim Cabot returns to his remote New England farm with his third wife—the young, alluring, headstrong Abbie—setting his three disapproving grown sons on an emotional rollercoaster and bitter fight for their inheritance. When Ephraim’s youngest son Eben sets his sights on Abbie, the resulting tempest brings tragic consequences. Desire Under the Elms by Eugene O’Neill, directed by Robert Falls, are (L to R) Carla Gugino (Abbie Putnam) and Brian Dennehy (Ephraim Cabot). Photo by Liz Lauren.

Articles from the Goodman’s OnStage for Desire Under the Elms, 2009 For more information on Eugene O’Neill and Robert Falls’ relationship directing Brian Dennehy in several O’Neill shows, visit the Goodman’s OnStage magazine for Desire Under the Elms, 2009. 2

“Eugene O’Neill: A Life in the Theater” by Tanya Palmer

“O’Neill: The Experimenter” by DeAnna M. Toten Beard

A look at the ingenuity of O’Neill’s plays in the 20th century

“Eugene O’Neill: Highlights and Accolades”

A timeline of the premieres of O’Neill’s plays and the awards he received

“The Triumvirate Returns: Falls, Dennehy, and O’Neill” by Richard Christiansen

Biography of the American playwright

A look at the relationship between Artistic Director Robert Falls and actor Brian Dennehy who have collaborated on many O’Neill plays, as told by the historic Chicago theater critic, Richard Christiansen

Behind the Scenes | At the Goodman

Rehearsal footage and interviews with Goodman Theatre Artistic Director Robert Falls and the cast of Desire Under the Elms on interpreting ONeillâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s classic for the 21st century.

In Performance | At the Goodman

Brian Dennehy, Carla Gugino, Pablo Schreiber and the rest of the cast in scenes from Desire Under the Elms, directed by Robert Falls at Goodman Theatre.

Controversy! Desire Under Attack by Randall Colburn Adapted from an article by the Goodman’s Producer Steve Scott

The premiere of Eugene O’Neill’s Desire Under the Elms by the Provincetown Players on November 11, 1924, was greeted less than enthusiastically by a majority of the New York press. Critic Percy Hammond wrote, “Mr. O’Neill’s dramas always make me glad that I am not one of the characters involved,” while The New York American’s Alan Dale carped, “The theatrical miasma arising from...Desire Under the Elms made even the subway station directly beneath the cantankerous, cancerous proceedings in the playhouse seem delicious.” Critic Heywood Broun wrote dismissively, “It would have been possible last night to count ‘one, two, three’ as this new tale of vengeance clicked into certain old and well worn grooves.” Joseph Wood Krutch was more appreciative; in his review in The Nation he referred to the author as “a brother of tempests,” concluding that O’Neill’s greatness lay “not in any controlling intellectual idea and certainly not in a ‘message,’ but merely in the fact that each play is an experience of extraordinary intensity.” Despite the mixed critical reception,

Desire moved uptown to Broad-

way after its initial two-month run. There the play and its author soon found themselves in the center of heated controversy; its frank (for the day) depictions of lust, venality, incest and infanticide caused Manhattan District Attorney Joab H. Banton to call for the production’s immediate closing. After more than a week of upheaval, during which time Banton threatened to take the case to a grand jury, a citizen’s panel was assembled to pass judgment on the production. They recommended that the play remain in production without any change. The notoriety of the case made Desire Under the Elms into a bona fide hit, although O’Neill complained to an interviewer, “We got a large audience, but of the wrong kind of people. They came for the dirt and found it in everything. It ruined the actors because they never knew how a line was going to be taken.”

Desire is certainly not the only play that’s been mired in controversy. In the mid-90’s, a young British playwright named Sarah Kane premiered Blasted, an unrelenting

Immoral Production? Originally from Eugene O’Neill on PBS

With its depiction of a passionate relationship between a young man and his stepmother, O’Neill’s Desire Under the Elms outraged New York District Attorney Joab Banton after it opened on Broadway in 1924. Banton targeted other productions at the time, including Ladies of the Evening and The Harem, which he said he would rewrite to make them “moral by Tuesday.” But Desire, he said, was “too thoroughly bad to be purified by blue pen,” and he threatened to convene a grand jury if the play was not shut down. After the producer refused, Banton created a citizen jury to evaluate the morality of Broadway productions. Upon seeing Desire, the jury reached a verdict that it was not obscene, and the show went on. O’Neill bemoaned the final result. “We got a large audience, but of the wrong kind of people,” he said. “They came for dirt and found it in everything. It ruined the actors because they never knew how a line was going to be taken.”

play featuring plenty of violence, sexual assault and cannibalism. The play was derided by many critics as gratuitous and filthy, but the controversy seemed only to enhance the play’s appeal. Blasted paved the way for a more raw, visceral theatre and more than ten years later, it is still performed regularly to rave reviews. Here at the Goodman, in January of 2009, The Wooster Group remounted their production of The Emperor Jones, which employs elements of Kabuki theater as well as a multimedia approach to storytelling (see pg eight of the study guide for more). Many in the Chicago community were upset by the use of blackface, and some even called for a boycott of the production. The Emperor Jones was sold out every night, and the critical reaction was mixed. The Wooster Group’s production continues to tour and to play packed houses around the world. Were you disturbed by any of the material in Desire Under the Elms? Is it still controversial today? Why or why not? What do you think shocks people today? Are you and your friends concerned with issues of morality? What do you think this says about American playwright, Eugene O’Neill. Photo courtesy of Bettmann/Getty Images.

Articles from the Goodman’s Study Guide for Desire Under the Elms, 2009 by Randall Colburn

For more information on the context and themes of the Goodman’s Desire Under the Elms, please visit the complete study guide here. Descriptions of these articles can be found below. 19

“American Folk Drama: Carriers of Culture” Folk, in whatever usage, refers to “the carriers of culture,” the social mores, customs and behavior of common people in common situations. Read this for context behind the style of Desire Under the Elms.

“Farm Life in the 1800s” This article tracks the change in life on New England farms in the 1800s due the industrial revolution.

“From Hand to Plow: The Evolution of Farming” From 1701 to the early 2000s, this timeline details the advancements in farming technology and change in labor hours.

“The California Gold Rush: A New American Dream” In December, President James Polk confirmed the discovery of gold in an address to Congress, and by 1849, waves of immigrants (called Forty-Niners, because of the year) were making the trip to California, desperate to make their fortune. This article deals with the Gold Rush and the effect Forty-Niners had on California’s population and transcontinental travel.

“Freud and the Oedipus Complex” A summary of Sigmund Freud and his work in psychology, including the idea that our unconscious minds are shaped during childhood by impulses that we did not control and experiences we may not even remember: the Oedipus Complex.

Set of Desire Under the Elms. Goodman Theatre. 09. Photo courtesy of Walt Spangler.

Desire Under the Elms OnScreen Summary by Paul Brenner via Rovi and Chicago Public Library

Director Delbert Mann and screenwriter Irwin Shaw adapt Eugene O’Neill’s 20th-century version of a Greek tragedy to the screen with a bit more discretion than need be. The story takes place in the New England of the 1840s. [An] emotionally cool but passionately hot farmer, Burl Ives [acts alongside] the smoldering Sophia Loren as his third wife. Anthony Perkins arrives to ignite this powder keg of pent-up lust, with Perkins and Loren engaging in a semi-incestuous love affair. When Loren becomes pregnant, Ives thinks the child is his own and the heat [turns] up considerably. And with Eugene O’Neill aping Greek tragedy, could infanticide be far behind?

Desire Under the Elms Written by Eugene O’Neill Adapted by Irwin Shaw Directed by Delbert Mann

Starring | Sophia Loren, Anthony Perkins, and Burl Ives Released | 1958 Running Time | 1 hr 51 mins This film is available from Chicago Public Library.

Graphic design for Desire Under the Elms. Film. 1958.

Trailer | Desire Under the Elms Directed by Delbert Mann

Goodman Theatre Presents…

54 Why The Iceman Cometh? 55

Synopsis of The Iceman Cometh

Articles from the Goodman’s

OnStage for The Iceman

Cometh 57

The Iceman Speaketh: Bar

Terms, Insults and Other

Language of the Play

The Iceman Cometh OnScreen

Graphic Design of The Iceman Cometh. Goodman Theatre. 11/12.

Goodman Theatre Presents... by Brigitte Wittmer

The Iceman Cometh

Season 90/91 September 14 - November 4, 1990

Season 11/12 April 21 - June 17, 2012

By Eugene O’Neill Directed by Robert Falls

In his time at the Goodman, Robert Falls has directed The Iceman Cometh twice, once in 1990 and then again in 2012. In 1990, Falls had only been the Artistic Director for a few years (since 1986) and sought to challenge his directorial skills and satiate his desire to direct a play by one of the American greats, Eugene O’Neill. The Iceman Cometh (1990) was the first production that Brian Dennehy had worked with Falls on at the Goodman and certainly not the last. (In this guide alone, he acts in 4 shows.) Dennehy originally played Hickey, the exuberant, terrifyingly illusioned salesman in the 1990 production, and in 2012 he took on the role of Larry

By Eugene O’Neill Directed by Robert Falls

Slade, the curmudgeonly “foolosopher” that never leaves the bar. In this production, renowned actor Nathan Lane portrayed Hickey. While the first Iceman was a strong production, Lane’s Iceman went on to become one of the most successful shows that the Goodman has ever produced. Performances sold out night after night. Audiences came from across the country and the world to see it. The show ran almost 5 hours with 3 intermissions and featured an unconventional lead, Lane, known for his roles in comedies and musicals, like The Lion King (Timon) and

Birdcage (Albert Goldman). Howev-

er, as Steve Scott said in a recent interview, “Inside every comedian is a tragedian trying to come out.” Lane had a deeply personal connection to Hickey and asked to collaborate with Falls on this show. After some time, the project came to a forceful fruition. The show, despite its success, never went on to Broadway due to the immense expense the show would cost in New York. It did, however, spend a few weeks at the Brooklyn Academy of Music (BAM) in 2015.

Why The Iceman Cometh? by Robert Falls Originally Printed in OnStage, 1990 and 2012

“Working with set designer John Conklinn and lighting designer Jim Ingalls, I’ve tried to approach the work in a highly theatrical framework. We’re trying to look at it in the way one might look at the plays of Brecht or Chekhov or Shakespeare, without the American realistic baggage that it carries. I don’t see the play as particularly realistic; it’s a very stylized, formal work, with elements of Greek tragedy-- chorus and chorus leaders. We’re interested in a very spare production. We’re trying to explore something a bit more theatrical...operatic is the wrong word, but we’re thinking in terms of a very musical production.” A Director Prepares, 1990 54

“No playwright is as complex, unwieldy and daunting to confront, and none of his plays are as challenging as The Iceman Cometh, which, along with Long Day’s Journey into Night, I regard as one of O’Neill’s masterworks...Mammoth in structure and epic in ambition, The Iceman Cometh is both an absorbing theatrical journey and an X-ray of the human condition, replete with all of its ambitions, joys and inexorable terrors.” Director’s Note, 2012 Robert Falls in rehearsal for The Iceman Cometh. Goodman Theatre. 11/12. Photo by Liz Lauren.

Synopsis of The Iceman Cometh Originally Printed in the Goodman’s OnStage

Sustained by cheap whiskey and pipe dreams, a band of social derelicts finds refuge in the dingy bar and backroom of Harry Hope’s saloon. Tomorrow they each plan to clean themselves up, quit drinking, and get back to life, but for now they are content to sponge another drink. Harry Hope’s patrons are awaiting the coming of Theodore “Hickey” Hickman, a generous, hard-drinking travelling hardware salesman whose twice a year visits are the bright spots at this “End of the Line Cafe,” and whose arrival will kick of the celebration of Harry Hope’s 60th birthday. But when Hickey does arrive, he has somehow changed. He announces that he’s given up alcohol, and that he intends to save them all and bring them peace-- that he knows from experience pipe dreams are “the things that really poison and ruin a guy’s life and keep him from finding any peace.” Harry’s

Brian Dennehy as Theodore “Hickey” Hickman. Goodman Theatre. The Iceman Cometh. 90/91. The set of the 2012 production, designed by Kevin Depinet, was based on John Cronklinn’s 1990 design at the Goodman. Note the door, in particular. Photo by Lisa Elbright.

customers, including Larry Slade, an embittered former anarchist, find Hickey’s brand of reality hard to swallow and attack back, only to find out what was really behind Hickey’s illusions. The Iceman

Cometh is a play about the tragedy of living for “pipe dreams” -- and the absolute human necessity of having pipe dreams to live for.

(Left to right) Salvatore Inzerillo as Rocky Pioggi, Brian Dennehy as Larry Slade, Nathan Lane as Theodore “Hickey” Hickman, Lee Wilkof as Hugo Kalmar, and Stephen Ouimette as Harry Hope in Eugene O’Neill’s The Iceman Cometh. Goodman Theatre. 11/12. Photo by Liz Lauren.

Articles from the Goodman’s Onstage for The Iceman Cometh, 2012 For more information on the production, context, and terminology of The Iceman Cometh, visit:

Neena Arndt, the Goodman’s Associate Literary Manager, writes on how Eugene O’Neill’s life influenced the creation of The Iceman Cometh.

the Goodman’s OnStage magazine for The Iceman Cometh, 2012. Descriptions of these articles can be found to the right.

“A Hopeless Hope: Eugene O’Neill & The Iceman Cometh” by Neena Arndt

“Tackling O’Neill: A Conversation with Nathan Lane, Brian Dennehy and Robert Falls” by Tanya Palmer Tanya Palmer, the Director of New Play Development at the Goodman, interviews Nathan Lane, Brian Dennehy, and Robert Falls on how their collaboration came about and how The Iceman Cometh, written in 1939, is still accessible to modern audiences.

10 “A Voice for the Lowly Masses” by Julie Massey Julie Massey, Assistant to Artistic Director Robert Falls, explains the political, social, and economic history behind The Iceman Cometh. The play is set in 1912, a year in Eugene O’Neill’s life that sparked both The Iceman Cometh and Long Day’s Journey Into Night.

12 “The Iceman Cometh in Produc tion” by Steve Scott Beginning with the first production in 1946, Steve Scott, the Goodman’s Producer and a local director, writes on the production history of The Iceman Cometh.

Hickey (Nathan Lane) at Harry Hope’s bar in The Iceman Cometh. Goodman Theatre. 11/12. Photo by Liz Lauren.

The Iceman Speaketh by Neena Arndt Originally on the Goodman Blog

The Iceman Cometh was written in

1939, but it takes place in Harry Hope’s saloon, a Greenwich Village (quasi-fictional) flophouse in 1912, and as an authentic period piece the play’s dialogue pops with the colorful slang of the early twentieth century. Some of these phrases and terms have retired from the English language entirely, so to help you decipher them we’ve compiled a glossary of Iceman-isms.

BAR TERMS BALL A drink of whiskey. Perhaps derived from “ball of fire,” referring to the fiery taste of alcohol. BUG-JUICE An alcoholic beverage of an inferior quality. This phrase appears in print from 1865 onward. OREY-EYED To have bleary or wild-looking eyes, especially as a result of drunkenness. More generally used to describe someone who is drunk, enraged or both. PIE-EYED Drunk or intoxicated. The etymology is unclear, but the term “pie” was slang among printers to refer a page that turned out a blurry mess, and so many guess that “pie-eyed” refers to the blurred vision of a drunk. RATHSKELLER A restaurant or tavern, usually below street level, which serves beer. From the German “rath” (town hall) and “keller” (cellar). First appears in English around 1865. REDEYE Slang for inferior whiskey.

Rocky Pioggi (Salvatore Inzerillo) with some “Tarts”-- Margie (Lee Stark) and Pearl (Tara Sissom) in Eugene O’Neill’s The Iceman Cometh. Goodman Theatre. 11/12. Photo by Liz Lauren.

ROT-GUT Slang for inferior alcohol.

other meaning, “breast,” did not exist yet.

SHERRY FLIP A sweet cocktail made with sherry, cream, powdered sugar and an egg, with nutmeg sprinkled on top. It is typically considered a ladies’ drink.

BROAD Using “broad” as a slang term for “woman” dates back only to 1911. It may be referring to a woman’s “broad” hips, or perhaps from the term “abroadwife,” which meant a woman away from her husband, often a slave. From its beginnings, the term was associated with lower-class or immoral women.

SLUG Slang for a strong drink, recorded from 1756. SOAK Slang for a drunkard. SOUSE A drunkard, referring to the notion of being “soused” or pickled in liquor. STEW BUM A vagabond who is habitually drunk. STINKO Slang for intoxicated or drunk.

INSULTS BOOB The word “boob” had been used as a slang term for “stupid person” since the seventeenth century. In 1912, its

BUGHOUSE Can be used as an adjective meaning crazy (“he’s bughouse!”), or to a hospital for the insane (“He belongs in the bughouse!”). Combination of “bug” (in the sense of “obsessive person”) and “house.” It dates from the late nineteenth century. BUNCO STEERER A “bunco” is a swindling game or scheme; a “bunco steerer” is the person who runs the game or scheme. Dates from the late nineteenth century.

DAGO An ethnic slur for an Italian or person of Italian descent. However, it originally was a slur for “Spanish,” and derives from the name “Diego.” By 1900, its meaning had shifted to refer to Italians. DINGE A derogatory term for a black person, derived from “dingy” meaning dark, dirty or sordid. GINNY A common misspelling of “guinea,” an offensive ethnic slur directed against Italians or those of Italian descent. PIGS This term is used by the Italian-American bartender, Rocky, to refer to Margie and Pearl, the two tarts. It is perhaps the English equivalent of “troia,” which technically means “female pig” but is used in certain regions of Italy as derogatory term for a loose woman or whore. WOP A racial slur for people from Italy that originated between 1910 and 1915 in the United States. Its origin in

Italian dialect is guappo, meaning a swaggerer, derived from the Spanish term guapo, meaning ruffian or pimp.

OTHER TERMS BAZOO Late nineteenth, early twentieth century slang for “mouth.” Derived from the Dutch word for trumpet, bazuin. BEJEES Alteration of “by Jesus”—a mild oath. The term “bejesus” came about in the 1860s. The shortened form, “bejees” (alternately spelled begeez or bejeez), is a variation largely used in Ireland. CORKER Slang for a particularly excellent or astonishing thing, usually referring to an anecdote or performance (“That story was a corker!”). When applied to a person, it suggests a bright, buoyant or lively personality. DRUMMER A travelling salesman, defined by John Bartlett, in his Dictionary of Americanisms (1848) as “a person

Hickey (Nathan Lane) has the biggest “pipe dream” of them all. The Iceman Cometh. Goodman Theatre. 11/12. Photo by Liz Lauren.

employed by city houses to solicit the custom of country merchants.” Drummer generally referred to a salesman who solicits customers for a wholesale house (as distinct from canvassers, who worked door-to-door selling individual goods). The word was, if not a derogatory term, at least not reflective of the image that merchants wanted to create for their traveling salesmen, as it referred to the energetic and frequently abrasive sales techniques they used to “drum up sales.” FANTODS The willies; nervousness. Dates back to the mid-nineteenth century. MAKE A CAT LAUGH An idiom, more popular in the early twentieth century than it is now—it means that something or someone is very, very funny. PIPE DREAM A plan, desire or idea that will likely never work or come fruition; a near impossibility. The expression comes from the hallucinatory fantasies experienced when smoking an opium pipe. SHAVER A derivative of “shaveling,” an old term for a boy or youth. The term refers to the fact that many boys need to start shaving during adolescence, but are not yet fully-grown men. TART Whereas “whore” always meant a person who has sex for money, “tart” might simply imply a woman who dresses provocatively or is sexually promiscuous. (Goodman character description of Margie and Pearl)

The Iceman Cometh OnScreen Originally Printed in the Goodmanâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s OnStage

In 1973, producer Ely Landau chose the play as the initial offering in his American Film Theatre (AFT) series, an attempt to bring classic plays to the screen; the AFT version was directed by John Frankenheimer and featured such screen notables as Robert Ryan, Fredric March, a 23-year-old Jeff Bridges and Lee Marvin, whose cynical, world-weary take on Hickey proved to be critically controversial.

The Iceman Cometh

Written by Eugene Oâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;Neill Screenplay by Thomas Quinn Curtiss Directed by John Frankenheimer Starring | Lee Marvin, Fredric March, Robert Ryan & Jeff Bridges Released |1973 Running Time | 3 hrs 59 minutes Watch most of the movie here or purchase from Amazon.

The Iceman Cometh Directed by John Frankenheimer

Shakespeare’s

King Lear

Goodman Theatre Presents…

62 Why King Lear? 63

Synopsis of the Play

Theater and Film History of King Lear

Growing Madness: An Interview with Stacy Keach

The Disordered World: Lear’s Past

London Then and Now

Conflict in the Eastern Bloc

Political Leaders During the Yugoslav Wars

King Lear OnScreen

King Lear. Goodman Theatre. 06/07. Photo by Liz Lauren.

Goodman Theatre Presents... by Brigitte Wittmer

King Lear

By William Shakespeare Directed by Robert Falls Season 06/07 September 9 - November 4, 2006 Robert Falls boldly opened his 20th season as Artistic Director with King Lear. Having spent three years editing the text, Falls prepared well in advance for the directorial attention King Lear would demand. The setting drew on the former Yugoslavia in the late 1990s, which also harkened to the modern political and societal turmoil in Russia (New York Times). With an opening scene taking place in a bathroom while characters urinate, this play was made to shock audience members and continued to as Falls’ interpretation leaned in to the violence of Shakespeare’s script. However, Variety noticed that

“Robert Falls’ high-concept Lear create[d] a contemporary world so dark that the king’s madness seemed a rational, even inevitable response.” In fact, Falls had amplified the violence so that contemporary audiences would react to the show like audiences from the early 17th century. This begs the question, how shocking were Shakespeare’s plays to audiences from Elizabethan times? (Read Tom Creamer’s article in this study guide “The Disordered World: Lear’s Past” to learn more.) How differently do we interpret Shakespeare than his original audienc-

es? How and in what ways have we become desensitized to the world? With this cinematic and shockingly cruel vision, Robert Falls created an entirely new production from a play that has been produced dozens of time. In his Director’s Note on the production, Robert Falls recounts his experience working with Shakespeare’s text and how this play continues to confront some of the most basic questions on humanity and politics. Read his entire note under “Why King Lear ?”

RIGHT: Stacy Keach (Lear), Kate Arrington (Regan), Kim Martin-Cotten (Goneril), Chris Genebach (Cornwall) & Kevin Gudahl (Albany) in Goodman Theatre’s production of King Lear, part of the 2006/07 season. Photo by Liz Lauren. BELOW: Graphic Design for King Lear. Goodman Theatre. 06/07.

Why King Lear?

by Robert Falls Originally Printed in the Goodman’s OnStage

You don’t choose to direct King Lear; it chooses you.

King Lear is probably the play I’ve

read more often than any other, a play I’ve continued to go back to over the years. And each time I read it, it inspires awe and terror in me, both as a director and as an audience member. To me, Lear is a cornerstone of Western thought and civilization, a play as much of our time as it was of Shakespeare’s. No play is as eloquent or uncompromising in its confrontation of some of the most basic questions about humanity and politics, and no play is as intimidating for a director. And yet, I knew that I would someday grow into it; and now, in my 50s, with three children and a father who turned 80 this summer, I feel that I understand it on a very personal level, both as a parent and as a child. I have never particularly thought of myself as a Shakespearean director, but a few of Shakespeare’s plays challenge me deeply, in a highly personal way. Hamlet is one of those, and my response to that challenge was an interpretation that I mounted in the early 1980s. The Tempest is another, a play that I’ve actually directed three different times. I’ve also responded strongly to interpretations of Shakespeare by other directors: Peter Brook, Trevor Nunn, Adrian Hall, Peter Sellars and Deborah Warner, to name a few. Each of these artists has created brilliant, indelibly personal takes on Shakespeare’s greatest works, particularly his tragedies; and, not coincidentally, each has done so in modern-dress productions, underscoring the astonishingly contemporary sensibility of these plays.

Twenty years ago, I began my artistic directorship with two plays that challenged and terrified me: Brecht’s Galileo and The Tempest. Looking back now, I am frankly amazed by my youthful fearlessness (or perhaps insanity) in tackling these works, and I realize that 20 more years of life have tamed me. Ultimately, what has drawn me to Lear now is my desire to return to that lack of fear, that wildness of heart that is essential when wrestling with a landmark play. My own preparation for this daunting challenge has been lengthy (it’s taken me three years simply to edit the text). And I’m thrilled to be able to collaborate on this with Stacy Keach, a world class Shakespearean actor who, through a distinguished 40-year stage and film career, has maintained an unswerving commitment to Shakespeare’s tragic heroes. Ultimately, like all great plays, King Lear is much bigger than we are. For more than 400 years it has inspired and withstood a host of interpretations that have provoked conversation, anger and debate—all while evoking the same feelings of awe and terror

that have gripped me each time I’ve encountered it. This is my hope for our Lear: a production that will elicit all of these responses, allowing our audiences to rediscover the amazing passion and wisdom of what is one of the world’s greatest dramatic works.

ABOVE: Stacy Keach (Lear) in rehearsal for Goodman Theatre’s King Lear, part of the 2006/07 season. Photo by Michael Brosilow. BELOW: Director Robert Falls in rehearsal for Goodman Theatre’s King Lear, part of the 2006/07 season. Photo by Michael Brosilow.

Synopsis of King Lear Originally Printed in the Goodman’s OnStage

The aging King Lear, wanting to spend his latter days free from the burdens of rule, decides to divide his kingdom into thirds: an equal portion for each of his daughters, provided they tell him how much they love him. When Lear’s youngest daughter, Cordelia, refuses to join her sisters in this game of flattery, Lear gives half the kingdom to his eldest daughter, Goneril, and her husband, Albany, while bestowing the remaining portion on Regan and her husband, Cornwall. Lear gives nothing to the formerly favored Cordelia and

banishes her from the realm. Lear also banishes the nobleman Kent for daring to question his wisdom in these decisions. Meanwhile, the Earl of Gloucester is having similar familial troubles. His bastard son Edmund convinces him that his favorite son Edgar wants to kill him in order to take over his land. Edmund’s trickery forces Edgar to flee and leaves Gloucester not knowing whom to trust. Having doled out his kingdom to his two eldest daughters, Lear looks to live out his days on their hospitality.

Goneril and Regan, however, refuse to accommodate their father’s wishes and throw the former king, along with his fool and a disguised Kent, out into a raging storm. Here Lear must face both the elements and himself. What began as two family quarrels spills outward across the kingdom and leads Lear and Gloucester through horrific trials of cruelty and madness. Lear achieves reconciliation with Cordelia only to lose her again to the violence his actions have unleashed.

Stacy Keach (Lear) & Howard Witt (Fool) in Goodman Theatre’s production of King Lear, part of the 2006/07 season. Photo by Liz Lauren.

Stacy Keach (Lear), Joaquín Torres (Edgar), Howard Witt (Fool), Steve Pickering (Kent), & Edward Gero (Gloucester) in Goodman Theatre’s production of King Lear, part of the 2006/07 season. Photo by Liz Lauren.

Theater and Film History of King Lear by Brigitte Wittmer

IN BRITAIN Goodman Theatre produced King Lear 400 years after it first premiered at London’s Globe Theater in 1606. In this time period, King Lear has been performed and adapted numerous times in Britain. Follow this link to learn more about the production history of King Lear in Britain according to the Royal Shakespeare Company. INTERNATIONALLY Throughout the 20th and into the 21st century, King Lear has been produced, adapted, and reinterpreted around the world. The following are several notable productions and film adaptations from recent times. The Public in New York has produced King Lear four times, and in 1973, they cast James Earl Jones as King Lear, directed by Edwin Sherin. The Public consciously cast minorities in theater and, along with James Earl Jones, African-American actresses Rosalind Cash, Ellen Holly, and Lee Chamberlin who played Lear’s daughters. This production was filmed for the Broadway Theatre Archive and is available on DVD. In 2011, director and performer Wu Hsing-kuo performed a one-man, show of King Lear in Chinese at the Edinburgh International Festival. The show was a meditation on identity, which harkened to Hsing-kuo’s own artistic journey, and utilized the stylized movements and costuming common to Peking Opera. In 2016, Sydney Theatre

Company’s produced King Lear starring Geoffrey Rush as Lear, directed by Neil Armfield. The story took place in starkly black and white boxes, which “creat[ed] an unsettling sense of emptiness as if the action [was] taking place in some abyssal limbo” (Limelight). One of Australia’s most esteemed actors, Rush gave a powerful and heartbreaking performance. Perhaps more familiarly, Geoffrey Rush appeared in the Pirates of the Caribbean as Barbossa, the Captain of the Black Pearl, and performed in The King’s Speech as Lionel Logue, the Australian speech and language therapist who treats King George VI’s stammer. Notable film productions include King Lear (1971) and the adaptations Ran (1985) and A Thousand Acres (1997). In 1971, King Lear was directed by Peter Brook who previously staged this production

with the Royal Shakespeare Company and maintained Shakespeare’s language. The adaptation Ran (1985) directed by Akira Kurosawa, a director whose work has been adapted into films like The Magnificent Seven and has inspired the making of Star Wars, takes place in a medieval Japan where an old war lord divides his land among his sons who proceed to war over their inheritances. Similarly, King Lear divides his land among his daughters, but they never instigate battles over it, which comments on the differences in character, gender, and culture to those of Ran. A Thousand Acres (1997), directed by Jocelyn Moorhouse, takes place on a farm in Iowa at a time when an old farmer, Larry, has decided to retire and divide his land into shares for his daughters. While King Lear directly translates the play to the screen, Ran and A Thousand Acres adapt the story to portray different situations in Japan and America.

King Lear at the Edinburgh International Festival Performed by Wu Hsing-kuo

Growing Madness: An Interview with Stacy Keach by Tom Creamer Originally Printed in the Goodman’s OnStage

Stacy Keach’s first work at the Goodman was the premiere of Arthur Miller’s last play, Finishing the Picture, staged in 2004. He returns this year to play King Lear in Shakespeare’s monumental tragedy. In mid-June he visited the Goodman to review script changes with dramaturg Tom Creamer and talk about playing Lear. Tom Creamer: Stacy, you’ve done a lot of Shakespeare in your career. You’ve played a number of Shakespeare’s great tragic heroes: Brutus, Macbeth, Coriolanus, Richard III, Hamlet. When did you first imagine yourself playing Lear? Stacy Keach: The first time I saw it, I guess. I was a student at the University of California at Berkeley. The San Francisco Actor’s Workshop was the premier theater company in San Francisco at that time, run by Jules Irving and Herbert Blau. They had made a name for themselves with a startling production of Waiting for Godot that they performed in prisons. They did a production of King Lear with an actor named Michael O’Sullivan. When he walked out on stage he was already as mad as a hatter and I thought to myself, “Where is this guy going to go from here?” I knew the play from reading it, and I thought, “He’s never going to make it.” And he went higher, gave it more, went deeper. It was an amazing performance. I thought, “Wow, that part says just about everything there is to say about life in one form or another.” I’ve always been wary of waiting too long to do it, because of the physical demands of the character--you have

to be strong and yet you have to appear physically weak at times. There are just about as many different ways of playing Lear as there are of playing Hamlet.

beginning than in others. The madness can take on very different kinds of colors. And the question always with Lear, the dominating question is: how wacky is he from the top?

TC: Are there other Lears that you particularly admire?

TC: Do you think he’s wacky at the very beginning of the play?

SK: Well, I love Lee J. Cobb’s Lear, but then I am very partial to that production because I was playing Edmund, the bastard [Lincoln Center, 1968]. But I got a chance to watch him develop the character. Lee’s power to express rage was extraordinary, but he didn’t have a great deal of Shakespearean experience. He was pretty much a practitioner of the modern theater. Until Brian Dennehy, Lee’s Willy Loman was definitive. But watching him work and watching him find the depth of expression for the character was fascinating. He really started to find it in performance. He had struggled a great deal all the way through rehearsal with learning the lines, so the great lesson for me was that you must come to the first day of rehearsal knowing the music. You’ve got to know the lines because the entire rehearsal time is for exploring how many different ways there are of expressing these words. And finding a way of developing a structure, an emotional structure that will allow you to express the character in different ways in different moments without compromising the staging.

SK: I don’t think that he’s wacky in the sense of him being mad, but he is an eccentric human being whose appetite and need for love and attention and power has tragic consequences. He is an archetypal tragic hero by virtue of the sin of pride. The madness comes from his realization that he got it wrong [when he banished Cordelia]. There are many ways of playing that opening scene. You could play it drunk--he’s using poor judgment, drinking too much. He literally throws water on himself when he says, “Does Lear walk thus, speak thus? Where are his eyes?” Under his motions, we are conscious of the guilt that begins to creep into his emotional world. TC: The realization that he’s done something wrong? Stacy Keach.

TC: So that you have some latitude in each performance? SK: Right. In some performances I’m sure I’ll be madder in the 65

Yeah. It eats him alive. It eats at him because he can’t deal with it. He pushes the guilt aside yet it keeps coming back at him. So he begins to create his own world; his fantasy of things that he creates in his mind. It’s very interesting to explore.

the non-sequiturs in Lear’s madness in every scene--it’s just heaven for an actor. It becomes like a virtuoso performance.

TC: You’ve played some of the great Shakespearean parts. How does this compare--or can you tell?--with Hamlet or...?

SK: A young actor once asked John Gielgud for advice on playing Lear. He said, “Make certain you have a light Cordelia.”

SK: Coriolanus. Coriolanus was the most difficult role physically because you start with this enormous battle. Richard III is a part that ends with a huge battle and then the play is over; so does Macbeth. When I played Falstaff I was a young actor and yet there was a kind of joy that I found in playing an older man; I loved it. Maybe because ever since I started acting in high school I was the guy who was always cast as the father and the grandfather. The first I ever played was the Stage Manager in Our Town, a great part, I was always the dad. So now I’m the granddad or the great-granddad. But it’s interesting that there are no children of Lear’s children. He’s not a grandfather, which I find odd, him being four-score and upward.

TC: What do you anticipate to be the toughest part of playing it?

TC: Yes, he should have grandkids by now. But he even curses Goneril’s future children. SK: I love that speech. He just doesn’t let up on it. That moment is discussed at great length in Marvin Rosenberg’s The Masks of Lear, which is the best book on Lear-how actors have played every single moment in the play. It’s an amazing book. That and the Variorum edition of the play have been my bibles as far as getting the textual issues. And I think you need to get all the the text stuff done so you can start working on the emotional stuff with all the other actors. It’s much more of an ensemble play. 66

TC: What is the key to playing this role?

ABOVE: Stacy Keach playing the title role in Hamlet at Long Wharf Theatre, 1970. BELOW: Stacy Keach in Richard III at Shakespeare Theatre Company in Washington D.C., 1990. Photo courtesy of Stacy Keach.

TC: There are so many great roles: the fool, the daughters. SK: The daughters are great roles. Edgar is an amazing role. And Edmund is one of the great roles in Shakespeare. He has that moment, that need for redemption at the end. You think you’ve got him and then whoosh--he just turns on you. TC: And by doing that, denies everything he stood for. SK: He’s totally full of contradictions, I just love the imagery and

SK: I think probably the storm scene is the hardest part. I had an idea how to create it so that you see, without any speech at all, Lear enjoying the storm— to get rid of that problem of actors screaming over thunder. And then the storm subsides, stops. So that “Blow winds and crack your cheeks” becomes an exhortation to the storm. Which is not to say that the storm wouldn’t come back and he would have to deal with it. There’s more storm in his next scene that has to be spoken over in “Thou think’st tis much that this contentious storm/ Invades us to the skin: so tis to thee/ But where the greater malady is fixed/ The lesser is scarcely felt.” It’s the image of the mind. That’s where the tempest is. TC: Do you think this is Shakespeare’s greatest? SK: One of them, that’s for sure. There’s no question it’s one of them. TC: How would you rank them? SK: Hamlet, Richard III--I’ve always had a problem with the Scottish play [Macbeth] in the sense that having started my career with a parody of it [MacBird, off-Broadway in 1966], that I thought was better than the actual play. Years later, when performing the original, I thought I

proved myself right because this poor guy works so hard wrestling with his conscience about killing his king, Duncan, and his wife gets to go crazy and steal the show. She always has. He has to take it on the chin. TC: You’ve done a lot of Shakespeare here in the United States and you’ve worked a lot in London, too. In London, it is expected that every leading actor is going to get to do all the great Shakespeare roles. Do you have thoughts about the advantages and disadvantages of being an American Shakespearean actor? SK: There aren’t too many advantages; they’re mostly disadvantages because, generally speaking, being a great Shakespearean actor is no longer the criterion by which we measure the quality of an American actor’s work. But British actors do have that criterion. I’ve always emulated the English—Laurence Olivier was my hero when I was a young actor because he could do both movies and classical work and make the classical work so interesting and so alive. That’s what really inspired me to become a classical actor, to do classical work. Doing Shakespeare offers greater challenges to the actor than most modern theater in terms of being able to communicate emotion and make it live for a contemporary audience. One of the things that excites me about doing this particular concept in Chicago is that both Bob Falls and I come from worlds that combine classical and contemporary works. We’re both classicists and contemporary artists. The architecture of Chicago has the old and new juxtaposed everywhere. So I think that’s one reason why this is the perfect city for this particular Lear.

Discussion Stacy Keach has appeared in a plethora of Shakespeare’s plays. Is there a writer of books, TV shows, films, plays, graphic novels, or anything else that you particularly click with?

TOP: Stacy Keach playing the role of Mercutio in Oregon Shakespeare Festival’s production of Romeo and Juliet, 1963. Photo courtesy of Stacy Keach. ABOVE: Stacy Keach playing Hamlet alongside James Earl Jones and Colleen Dewhurst at New York Shakespeare Festival, 1971. Photo courtesy of Stacy Keach.

Name a character in one of the author’s works that you want to be or want to perform. What would it take for you to become this character in real life? What would it take for you to perform this character on a stage? What would the challenges be?

Photo by Andrew Wong/Getty Images.

The Disordered World: Lear’s Past by Tom Creamer Originally Printed in the Goodman’s OnStage

For 150 years of its history King Lear was considered too awful to be presented on stage. Too much blood, too much sex, too much cruelty--not enough “uplift.” Probably first presented sometime in 1606, Lear’s first recorded performance was at the court of King James I on St. Stephen’s Night, December 26, 1606. It was an apporpriate occasion for the play. St. Stephen’s was traditionally the day for the better off to take care of the “poor naked wretches” King Lear mentions in the storm scene and to whom he regrets showing too little concern. Less than three years before the St. Stephen’s Night performance, James’ predecessor, Queen Elizabeth, unmarried and childless, had died at the age of 69 after 68

years of speculation about her successor. With no heir to succeed her, the country feared a replay of the War of the Roses, with various claimants battling for the crown. The succession happened peaceably, however, the throne passing to James of Scotland, Elizabeth’s closest male relation. But the story of Lear and the civil war that erupts after hisbotched attempt to hand over power must have strongly echoed for James and his courtiers as they watched the play. They would have had some sense of relief, as they watched snugly with cups of Christmas wassail in hand, that they had avoided the kind of mess Lear creates in his kingdom. Although good enough to be played for the king, Lear was not a huge success like Hamlet or Pericles, appearing in just two unau-

thorized editions before its inclusion in the official Folio of Shakespeare’s collected plays in 1623. Forty years later it was revived in London “exactly as Mr. Shakespeare wrote it” but had little impact. In 1681 playwright Nahum Tate, calling Shakespeare’s play “a heap of jewels unstrung and unpolished,” created a new version based on Shakespeare but with many “improvements.” Tate cut more than 800 lines, eliminated the Fool and, most drastically, ended the play not with Lear and Cordelia’s deaths, but with Lear, Gloucester and Kent going into retirement, and Cordelia betrothed to Edgar. Tate’s was the version that was performed for the next century and a half, and it fit the spirit of the age. The English theater of the 18th century was increasingly the theater of

the middle class, which demanded that theater provide, beyond genteel entertainment, useful moral sentiments. Both comedy and tragedy suffered from this requisite, and it is a principal reason that there are so few great plays from that era. Shakespeare’s King Lear, with its barbarous cruelty and nihilistic ending, was beyond the taste of the 18th century audience. Samuel Johnson, the great 18th century critic, wrote approvingly of Tate’s ending and complained about the original: “... I was many years ago so shocked by Cordelia’s death that I know not whether I ever endured to read again the last scenes of the play till I undertook to revise them as an editor.” By the beginning of the 19th Century the rise of the Romantic movement was sweeping away bourgeois sentimentality, and King Lear won recognition as a great dramatic poem. Titanic, ego-driven characters, madness and nature-defying rants like Lear’s in the storm were hallmarks of Romantic literature. Even so, the attitude remained, as Charles Lamb, an admirer of the

work, expressed it in an 1811 essay, that “Lear is essentially impossible to be represented on a stage.” That notion was challenged in 1838 when the English actor William Macready starred in a version essentially the same as Shakespeare’s original. The court and storm scenes provided great opportunities for spectacular effects, which the 19th century audience loved. But by the end of the century, in the Victorian era, Lear was again falling out of favor. Newspaper critics declared “Shakespeare is, as a poet and playwright, at his worst in King Lear” and that the play “would not be tolerated if produced without the name of Shakespeare.” Never the audience’s favorite of Shakespeare’s plays, Lear nevertheless became a crucial role for the great Shakespearean actors of the 19th and 20th centuries, in a line extending from Edmund Kean and Henry Irving through John Gielgud and Laurence Olivier to contemporary actors like Michael Gambon, Christopher Plummer and Ian

Holm. But squeamishness about the play’s violence and sexuality continued well into the 20th century—the scene of Gloucester’s blinding often was played offstage. As the 20th century wore on, however, a new wave of directors began to regard Lear not as a dramatic poem best appreciated on the page, or as a vehicle for grandiloquent acting, but as a play whose full impact could only be realized through the vivid stage pictures Shakespeare had created. The play had gained a new resonance, one that critic Jan Kott explored in his extremely influential 1964 book, Shakespeare Our Contemporary. After Nietzsche, two world wars and genocides, artists and audiences were ready to accept Kott’s argument that the cruelty and bleakness of the play were not at all remote—that Shakespeare, 350 years after his death, was speaking to us. This is not to argue the cliché that the 20th century was the most miserable and violent in human history, but to suggest that the past hundred years allows us easier access to King Lear than citizens of the 18th and 19th centuries had. In 69

nakedness and betrayal pile up, along with visions of rending and tearing apart. The natural world is invoked again and again, most famously in Edmund’s speech “Thou, Nature, art my goddess,” and in that world human beings are no better than animals: Why should a dog, a horse, a rat have life and thou no life at all? As flies to wanton boys are we to the gods. A dog’s obeyed in office. Man’s life is cheap as beast’s. And through the whole play runs a palpable sense of oblivion. The word “nothing” is used 33 times and, joined with the frequent appearance of the words “no” and “never,” becomes a woeful, underscored drumbeat. But there are flashes of light amid the grim events and bleak imagery. Shakespeare carefully inserts small moments of benevolence into the action. The blinded Gloucester is helped on his way by a faithful old servant, Kent pursues Lear’s best interests despite his banishment, and Lear awakes from his madness to a beatific reconciliation with Corelia. And as if to support the charity of these moments, buried in the dialogue are phrases with Christ-like echoes: “O dear father, it is thy business that I go about,” Cordelia says.

Photo by Ron Haviv/VII.

his 1920 poem “The Second Coming,” William Butler Yeats feared it was a time when “the worst are full of passionate intensity,” a time when “things fall apart.” This is the 70

essence of the world of Lear, one where children betray parents, fathers curse their offspring, fools speak wisdom and safety lies in madness. Images of blindness,

So Lear comes down to us, four centuries removed from its creation, after several tidal cycles of its popularity. The fairy tale spine of its story—“There once was a king with three daughters…”—may give it a kind of timelessness. But for us at the beginning of the 21st century, with war and terror everyday headlines, and an indifferent nature that reminds us with earthquakes, hurricanes and tsunamis that sometimes our lives are “cheap as beast’s,” Lear seems as timely as it ever could be.

London Then and Now

by George Jasinki Originally Printed in the Goodman’s Study Guide for King Lear

London: A crammed commercial huddle that smells of the river. The Thames was everybody’s highway. You crossed normally by boat and there was commerce on the river. Chained to the banks there were sometimes criminals. The streets were narrow, made of cobble stones, slippery with the slime of garbage. Houses were crammed together and there were many alleys. Chamber pots were emptied out of windows and there was no drainage. But, the City had its natural cleansers—the kites, graceful birds that made their ABOVE: London, modern day. Photo courtesy of Getty Images. LEFT: Map of London, 16th c. Photo from Course Threads, UC Berkeley. BELOW: House of Parliament, London. Photo courtesy of Getty Images.

many beautiful examples of architecture, such as the House of Parliament and Buckingham Palace. A major similarity is the public transportation systems used by both cities. In Chicago, we ride the “L”, which is an abbreviation of the phrase “Elevated Train.” In London, however, the subway is called the “Underground.”

nests of rags and refuse. Countering the bad, manmade odors, the smells of the countryside floated in. It was a city of loud noises—hooves and coach wheels on the stones, the tells of traders, the brawling of apprentices. Even normal conversation must have been loud since everybody was, by our standards, tipsy. Nobody drank water. Ale was the standard and it was strong. Ale for breakfast was a good means of starting the day. The better sort drank wine, which promoted friendship and sword fights. It was not what we

would call a sober city… Modern London is a city that is very similar to Chicago. Both are cultural centers of the country, showcasing theatre, dance, music and art to the world. Both London and Chicago are major centers of influence, affecting the economies and politics of the United Kingdom, United States, and the world. While the Chicago River runs through Chicago, the Thames River runs through London. Like Chicago, London is also home to 71

Conflict in the Eastern Bloc by Brigitte Wittmer Adapted from the Goodman’s Study Guide for King Lear

The Goodman Theatre’s production of King Lear incorporates aspects of Eastern Europe, the former USSR, and the recent war in Yugoslavia and in doing so, removes the show from its original context in Vienna. Falls found an egotistical leader in the

Eastern bloc similar to Lear: Milosevic, who founded and served as president of the socialist party in Serbia. For more information on him and the unrest in the former Yugoslavia, visit the timeline below and read on.

The Yugoslav Wars: 1980-2005

1980

President Tito’s harsh rule on Yugoslavia keeps ethnic tensions in check until his death. Without his influence, ethnic and nationalist differences begin to flare.

June 1991

January 1992 Macedonia declares independence. Slovenia and Croatia declare April 1992 Bosnia and Herzegovina declares independence. Tensions independence. With among Muslims, Serbs, and Croatians strain and Bosnia erupts 90% of its population into war. Serbia and Montenegro form the Federal Reublic of ethnic Slovenians, Slovenia Yugoslavia, with Slobodan Milosevic as its leader. is able to break away with only a brief period of fighting. Croatia Bosnia, Serbia, and CroaNovember 1995 kicks out most of its Serbian tia sign the Dayton Peace population. Accord to end the war in Bosnia.

Milosevic sends troops to Kosovo to quash unrest in March 1998 the province. A guerrilla war breaks out.

March 1999

After peace talks fail, NATO begins attacks on Serbian targets.

October 2000 A popular uprising begins. One million people flood Belgrade. Mobs attack Parliament building, security forces join them. Milosevic support crumbles and he steps down.

April & June 2001

March 2006 Milosevic dies in custody.

Milosevic is arrested and charged with corruption and abuse of power. He is turned over to the United Nations.

Political Leaders During the Yugoslav Wars by George Jasinki Originally Printed in the Goodman’s Study Guide for King Lear

Nicolae Ceausescu

Josip Broz, a.k.a. Tito

Slobodan Milosevic

Romanian president (1967-1989). He joined the Communist Party at 15 and held several junior political posts before becoming President of the State Council in 1967. He became the first president of the Republic in 1974, and established a strong personality cult based in his belief of invincibility within the nation. His policy of replacing traditional villages with groups of concrete apartments caused much controversy and distress in the late 1980s. A ruthless and unpopular leader, he was deposed in 1989. He and his wife, Elena, were shot and killed on Christmas Day 1989.

Yugoslav president (1953-1980). In World War I, he served with the Austro–Hungarian army, was taken prisoner by the Russians, and became a Communist. In 1945, he became the country’s first Communist prime minister and then president in 1953. He developed Yugoslavia’s independent style of communism, called Titoism. His marriage to a Serb symbolized his attempts to unify the two conflicting national groups within Yugoslavia. Not long after his death, Yugoslavia erupted into a bloody civil war.

President of Serbia (1989-1997) and Yugoslavia (1997-2000). He studied law at Belgrade University before entering politics. He is the founder and president of the socialist party of Serbia. He became the focus of world attention during the Kosovo crisis and NATO confrontation in early 1999, but following a wave of popular unrest he lost power in October 2000. The new government arrested Milosevic and in June 2005 he was handed over to United Nations (UN) investigators to face a war crimes tribunal. On March 11, 2006, Milosevic was found dead in his cell at the United Nations detention center in The Hague. He appeared to have died of natural causes.

LEFT: Soviet President Mikhail Gorbachev (L) confers with Yugoslavian President Slobodan Milosevic (R) at the Foreign Ministry in Moscow 15 October 1991, during Yugoslav peace talks. Photo courtesy of AFP/Stringer/ Getty Images. BOTTOM LEFT: Tito And Richard Nixon. 1971. Photo by Marka/UIG/Getty Images. BELOW: Romania: President of the Socialist Republic of Romania, Nicolae Ceausescu, delivering the traditional New Year Message 1981, at the Romanian Radio and TV Posts. Photo courtesy of Bettmann/Getty Images.

King Lear OnScreen

Summary by Nathan Southern via Chicago Public Library

Famed theatrical producer Richard Price and directors Trevor Nunn and Chris Hunt teamed with Britain’s legendary Royal Shakespeare Company to create this film version of Shakespeare’s tragedy King Lear, with the masterful Ian McKellen (Scandal, Richard III ) in the title role. The said production toured numerous major cities, including New York, Los Angeles and Melbourne, then traveled to Pinewood Studios in Britain for this filmed version, done on closed sets. It originally aired on television as part of PBS’s series Great Performances.

King Lear

Written by William Shakespeare Directed by Trevor Nunn and Chris Hunt Starring | Ian McKellen, Frances Barber, Monica Dolan & Romola Garai Released | 2009 Running Time | 2 hrs 35 mins The video is available from Chicago Public Library.

Graphic for King Lear. PBS. Film. 2009.

Discussion How does King Lear compare to modern Russian and American leaders? What are the similarities and differences between him and Vladimir Putin of Russia, President Donald Trump, or Rahm Emanuel, the mayor of Chicago?

Act 1 Scene 1, The royal procession - Lear’s (Ian McKellen) final public appearance before he divides his kingdom. Royal Shakespeare Company. 2007. Photo by Manuel Harlan, RSC.

76 Goodman Theatre Presents... 76 The Making of Measure for Measure 77 Why Measure for Measure? 78 Synopsis: Written and Audio 78 Summary of Measure for Measure to Bob Dylan’s “Seven Curses” 79 Measure for Measure: Defining the “Problem Play” 83 Reviewing and Reimagining Sheakespeare Through the Ages 86 From Shakespeare’s London to 1970’s New York 87 And the Colored Girl Goes... 89 Was Shakepseare a Feminist? 92 Further Articles from the Goodman’s Study Guide for Measure for

Measure 93

Shakespeare, Adaptation and the Film-Like Quality of Theater

Graphic Design for Measure for Measure. Goodman Theatre. 12/13.

Goodman Theatre Presents... by Brigitte Wittmer

Measure for Measure By William Shakespeare Directed by Robert Falls Season 12/13 March 9 - April 14, 2013 “Something Wilder:” the theme of the Goodman’s 12/13 Season, only begins to hint at the tremendous journey one embarks on when watching Measure for Measure. A 17th century play originally set in Vienna, this rendition took place in 1970s New York, a time period replete with economic, political, and social struggles akin to the London of Shakespeare’s time. As he did

with King Lear in 2006, Robert Falls found a contemporary equivalent to the setting from Shakespeare’s day, an equivalent that would make audiences respond to the action like Elizabethan theatergoers. Not only this, but Falls followed the play to a different, though perhaps more logical, ending than the plethora of weddings in the original script. By setting this

in New York in the ‘70s, Falls created a kind of “Rock ‘N Roll Shakespeare” with plenty of violence, sex, and power plays (Julie Massey). For more information on the director Robert Falls’ vision for the show, read “Why Measure for Measure?” on the next page.

The Making of Measure for Measure Sit down with Measure for Measure director Robert Falls, the cast, and the design team behind Shakespeare’s black comedy at the Goodman.

Why Measure for Measure? by Robert Falls Originally Printed in the Goodman’s OnStage

A once-great city is mired in economic and moral decay, its “strict statutes and biting laws” largely ignored by a populace who would rather explore the raunchier side of urban life. The city’s leader, admitting his own culpability in the overly permissive atmosphere, goes on a personal mission, leaving the job of law enforcement to his pious, ascetic aide—whose response to the crisis is to levy draconian punishments upon a seemingly innocent man, then attempt to exact an unholy settlement from the man’s sister, a young nun who desperately pleads his case. This is the unsettled, chaotic world of Measure for Measure, long one of Shakespeare’s most controversial “problem” plays, a virtuosic blend of low comedy, incipient tragedy and moral ambiguity. First presented in 1604, the play’s classically comic structure (ending, as all good romantic comedies of the era did, with a series of weddings) belied the very serious questions it posed: In a world beset by crisis, what kinds of authority should be given to our political leaders, and what exactly is a “just” punishment? What is the balance between justice and mercy? Between sensuality and rationality? Between duty to God and duty to family? Between religion and government? This hybrid of dramatic styles was deemed unseemly by generations of critics after Measure for Measure’s premiere; but modern audiences have found the play disturbingly prescient in its questioning of society’s values and the conflicts among them. It is a play that I have read and re-read many times, fascinated and challenged by its juxtaposition of ribald satire, intense tragedy and freewheeling morality—and as our world becomes increasingly polar-

ized both socially and politically, I feel that its themes are more timely than ever. Although set in Vienna, Shakespeare obviously intended the play to reflect conditions in the London of his time, a fact immediately recognizable to his audience. I have chosen to set my production in a time and place that is similarly familiar to many of us: New York City in the 1970s, an era in which economic challenges, urban flight and the sexual revolution transformed what had been arguably the greatest city in the world to one of the most troubled. The images of that time—of 42nd Street grind houses and peep shows, of graffiti-laden walls and garbage-filled streets—provide a visceral backdrop to a tale of corrupting power, moral excess and religious zeal. And a multicultural cast of 25 will bring to life an assortment of Shakespeare’s most vivid dramatic creations.

most provocative and fascinating works. Its characters neither impossibly good nor unilaterally evil, its most pressing thematic questions tantalizingly unanswered, the play instead presents us with a world not unlike our own: flawed, excessive but always compelling—and inhabited by people who are achingly, vibrantly and recognizably human.

(L to R) James Newcomb (Duke) and Alejandra Escalante (Isabella) in Shakespeare’s Measure for Measure, directed by Robert Falls.Goodman Theatre. 2013. Photo by Liz Lauren.

Frank yet poetic, subtle yet passionate, Measure for Measure remains one of Shakespeare’s

James Newcomb (Duke) in Shakespeare’s Measure for Measure, directed by Robert Falls. Set Design by Walt Spangler. Photo by Liz Lauren.

Synopsis of Measure for Measure Originally Printed in the Goodman’s OnStage

When the Duke of Vienna sets off on a diplomatic mission abroad, he leaves Lord Angelo in charge of the city in his absence. The stern and moralistic Angelo begins to enforce the city’s long dormant moral code, and decides to make an example by executing Claudio, a young man arrested for impregnating his soon-

to-be wife. When Claudio’s pious young sister, Isabella, goes to Angelo to beg for her brother’s life, he agrees to pardon him—in exchange for one night with her. Meanwhile, the Duke has not actually left town, but has gone undercover as a priest and has been observing the actions of the townspeople all

along. In his disguise he approaches Isabella, and the two hatch a plan to free Claudio and trap Angelo into violating his own laws—and marrying a woman he wronged long ago. The Goodman Theatre recorded a 20 minute audio synopsis. Follow this link to listen.

Haste still pays haste, and leisure answers leisure, Like doth quit like, and measure still for measure. ~Duke, Act 5 Scene 1

Summary of Measure for Measure to Bob Dylan’s “Seven Curses”

Measure for Measure:

Defining the Problem Play by Neena Arndt Originally Printed in the Goodman’s OnStage

In 1896, the illustrious scholar F.S. Boas classified three of Shakespeare’s plays—Measure for Measure, All’s Well That Ends Well and Troilus and Cressida—as “problem plays,” to distinguish them from comedies, tragedies and histories. All written around the turn of the 17th century, these plays represent a transitional period in Shakespeare’s style, and provoke questions about what we really mean when we designate a piece of art as “comic” or “tragic.” Indeed, the Elizabethans, influenced by Greek and Roman classics, held different ideas about comedy and tragedy than do most 21st century Americans. By their definitions, most of Shakespeare’s best-known works can be easily classified as comedy, tragedy or history. But it is the so-called “problem plays,” some of the leastknown works in the Shakespearean canon, which reveal Shakespeare as a stylistic chameleon who eludes easy categorization, and mark him as a bold experimenter, a fine technician and an extraordinary poet. Rather than implying that the plays themselves are problematic, the term “problem plays” refers to a type of drama that was popular at the time of Boas’ writing: the nineteenth century problem play deals with contemporary social issues. One prominent example is Henrik Ibsen’s A Doll’s House, in which the protagonist is trapped by the strictures of middle-class life. For Boas, Shakespeare’s problem plays were also characterized by an ambiguity of tone. While comedies like A Midsummer Night’s Dream offer their audiences straight frivolity and fun, and tragedies like Romeo and Juliet

focus on the catastrophic trajectories of their characters, the problem plays alternate between comic and tragic elements. Boas writes: “Throughout these plays we move along dim untrodden paths, and at the close our feeling is neither of simple joy nor pain; we are excited, fascinated, perplexed, for the issues raised preclude a completely satisfactory outcome, even when, as in All’s Well That Ends Well and Measure for Measure, the complications are outwardly adjusted in the fifth act.” In Measure for Measure, the Duke of Vienna leaves the city temporarily in the hands of Lord Angelo, a stern judge. Angelo persecutes Claudio, a young man, for fornication with a woman named Juliet. But Claudio and Juliet are nearly married; only a small legal technicality renders Claudio’s act illegal—and given that the city is awash with prostitutes, Angelo’s plan to put Claudio to death is outrageously harsh. A simmering tale ensues, rife with power plays, politics and licentiousness. Chock full of both high-stakes drama and comic relief in the form of clownish policemen and bawdy ladies of the night, Measure for Measure leaves its audiences experiencing neither “simple joy nor pain.” Instead, it paints a complex portrait of a lustful politician, a city in flux, and the conflicting desires that humans experience every day. As citizens of the 21st century, we are accustomed to entertainments which take us to sorrowful depths 79

PREVIOUS PAGE: William Shakespeare. Courtesy of the Library of Congress. LEFT: Shakespeare scene from Measure for Measure. © Bettmann/Corbis/AP Images

at one moment and peaks of joy the next. The Goodman’s production of A Christmas Carol exposes us to the societal ills of 19th century England while also delivering hearty humor and hijinks. Countless television shows, from All in the Family to Weeds, balance humor and pathos. And even the most “serious” playwrights of the twentieth century—Samuel Beckett, Tennessee Williams, and the often morose Eugene O’Neill—had funny bones. But a Shakespearean audience would not have been as accustomed to such genre-blending. For them, a comedy meant a play that ended happily, usually with marriage. In Elizabethan comedies, plots often overshadow characters; the audience delights in keeping up with the story’s twists. They are treated to witty banter, slapstick, deceptions, mixups and clever servants. Often, in Elizabethan comedy, young lovers must overcome obstacles placed in their path by their elders. When they finally outwit their parents, they chassé off to their marriage bed to make the next generation: indeed, a happy ending for all. A tragedy, by contrast, ends with death. Many scholars link Elizabe80

than tragedy with the ancient Greek concept laid out by Aristotle in his treatise on dramatic theory, Poetics. Aristotle writes about the tragic hero, a character with enough admirable traits that the audience will sympathize with him, but who possesses a flaw which brings about his downfall. Elizabethan tragedies, including Shakespeare’s, generally adhere to Aristotle’s concept. Another common genre in Shakespeare’s day was the history play—that is, a play based on historical events that occurred decades or centuries before the playwright’s birth. Sometimes considered a subset of tragedy, the history play has little classical precedence; it was not until Elizabethan times that the genre became commonplace. One reason Elizabethans conceived their plays in the image of Greek and Roman theater is that few great English playwrights had yet existed. For many years preceding the mid-sixteenth century, England had seen an abundance of morality plays—religious dramas that often lacked thematic heft and literary merit. By the late sixteenth century, even these were out of style. Fortunately, the English Renaissance, a period during which many art forms flourished, was underway. Now, writ-

ers like Christopher Marlowe wrote secular tragedies, and authors such as Thomas Dekker and Ben Jonson penned comedies with tightly woven plots. Though few playwrights of the age were university-educated, most had learned the classics in grammar school. Shakespeare, who probably spent most of his school years perfecting his Latin, had almost certainly read Terence, Plautus and Seneca, among many others, and took his cues from these Roman writers. Shakespeare probably began writing in the 1590s, and for much of that decade alternated between writing comedies (early works include Love’s Labour’s Lost and All’s Well That Ends Well), and history plays (King John, Henry VI Parts I, II, and III, Richard II, Richard III), with the occasional tragedy (Titus Andronicus, Romeo and Juliet). These plays were performed by a troupe of actors called the Lord Chamberlain’s Men, an ensemble that included Shakespeare himself, and which, as its name suggests, excluded women. The men not only acted but also co-owned their company, sharing in all profits and debts. They also relied on the patronage of the Lord Chamberlain; their success, and that of the theater in general, was bolstered by financial support from major political figures. During the first five years of his career as a playwright, Shakespeare’s writing style was decidedly influenced by other writers of his day; many scholars consider his early poetry inferior to his later

King James I of England.

work, and his plots entirely derivative of other plays. His characters, such as the twin Dromios in The Comedy of Errors, tended toward one dimensionality. By the middle of the 1590s, however, he had begun to deviate slightly from his source texts, and his voice emerged. In 1595, he wrote A Midsummer Night’s Dream, and in 1600 produced Hamlet; both are now considered among the finest works in the English language. Though evidence suggests that Measure for Measure premiered on St. Stephen’s Night, December 26, 1604, Shakespeare may have begun writing it in 1603. That year— approximately the midpoint of Shakespeare’s career—represents a pivotal moment in English history. Queen Elizabeth I died after a 44-year reign, ending the monarchical stability the British had enjoyed through the latter half of the sixteenth century. Although the “Virgin Queen” was the last of the Tudor line, her godson, James VI of Scotland, was rapidly appointed James I of England. When James came to power, he offered to patronize Shakespeare’s theater company, which was by then among the most respected and popular companies in London. Accordingly, the Lord Chamberlain’s Men changed their name to The King’s

Men. Over the next several years, while enjoying frequent theatrical performances, James settled into his dual role as king of both Scotland and England. Elizabeth’s chief minister, Robert Cecil, advised James through the first years of his reign, and aside from an occasional death plot, the transition went smoothly (especially in comparison to the bloody fights and riots which so often accompanied major political events). Still, it was the only transfer of the crown Shakespeare would see in his lifetime, and it no doubt provoked in him questions about power and politics. Shakespeare set Measure for Measure in Vienna, a city he had not likely visited and which he probably associated with drunkenness and prostitution. Some scholars assert that he actually set the play in Italy, but that the location was changed when the play was first published in 1623—like so much about Shakespeare, the precise facts are lost forever, but what is certain is that the play never took place in London. Regardless of where he set the action, Shakespeare need not have used his extraordinary imagination to write about a city where alcohol and whores were men’s primary pleasures: London’s streets teemed with brothels. The city depicted in Measure for Measure is more likely a fictionalized version of London— the only city Shakespeare ever truly knew—than any distant European city. By placing the action elsewhere,

Shakespeare could comment on London’s issues indirectly—and could still invite King James to his opening performance. While we know that Shakespeare was admired as a writer in his own time, in most cases we have little sense of whether his individual plays were popular successes when they premiered. 17th century criticism of Measure for Measure is largely negative, focusing on its uneven tone. English literary critic John Dryden commented in 1672: “Poetry was then, if not in its infancy among us, at least not arriv’d to its vigor and maturity: witness the lameness of their Plots. I suppose I need not name Pericles Prince of Tyre, nor the historical plays of Shakespeare. Besides many of the rest as The Winter’s Tale, Love’s

Labor’s Lost, Measure for Measure, which were either grounded

on impossibilities, or at least, so meanly written that the comedy neither caus’d your mirth, nor the serious part your concernment.” But many critics in the twentieth century, steeped as they were in the tonally ambiguous entertainments of their era, took a more favorable view. They theorized that Shakespeare was experimenting with style, perhaps in a deliberate attempt to subvert his audience’s expectations. By this time, Boas’ designation of Measure for Measure as a problem play had become widely accepted in critical circles, and critics approached the play with Boas’ theories in mind. In 1931, W.W. Lawrence argued that the three problem plays “…mark one of the most striking developments of Shakespeare’s genius… The settings and the plots are still those of romance, but the treatment is in the main serious and realistic.” A few decades later, in 1965, J.W. 81

Lever praised Shakespeare even further: “The form here is a close blend of tragic and comic elements, so carefully patterned as to suggest a conscious experiment in the new medium of tragicomedy. Limited precedents for this treatment were to be found.” Problem play, masterpiece, or both, Measure for Measure represents an important period in Shakespeare’s work. Over the course of his career, the dramatist proved himself equally skilled at writing comedies and tragedies—a rare feat among his peers. But perhaps just as importantly, with his problem plays he proved an agile experimenter, an inventor of form. Shakespeare left us not only great poetry, gripping plots and his bottomless understanding of the human psyche; from him we also inherit a genre—tragicomedy—that dominates much of our entertainment today. When Ben Jonson, a contemporary of Shakespeare’s, referred to him as “not of an age, but a man for all time,” he probably didn’t count Measure for Measure among Shakespeare’s greatest contributions. But 400 years later, we look at Shakespeare through the lens of our own life and times—and from the 21st century, the view is different.

Ian Holm, Tom Fleming and Judi Dench in the Royal Shakespeare Theatre’s 1967 production of Measure for Measure. AP photo.

Discussion Shakespeare’s Measure for Measure was deemed a “problem play” because it eluded any established genre. Now-a-days, a work of literature may be deemed a “problem” if it harbors any kind of controversial content. Do you know of any movies, TV shows, books, graphic novels, music, or other plays that have been banned or challenged by society? Take a look at this list of banned or challanged books from the American Library Association. Which ones have you read before? Why do you think they are controversial in America? What is gained, lost, or changed by keeping books like these away from students? Does your family or school stray away from any particular reading material?

Stacy Keach and Edward Gero in Robert Falls’ 2006 production of King Lear. Photo by Liz Lauren.

Reviewing and Reimagining Shakespeare Through the Ages by Neena Arndt Originally Printed in the Goodman’s Onstage

Goodman Theatre Artistic Director Robert Falls is among the most intrepid interpreters of Shakespeare’s work in contemporary America. Throughout his career—from his 1985 production of Hamlet, starring Aidan Quinn, Del Close and Deanna Dunagan, to his visually stunning 1987 Tempest, to his unflinchingly maximalist 2006 production of King Lear—Falls has shown his dexterity with the work of the English language’s most famous playwright. In King Lear, the characters inhabited a Tarantinoan dystopia, a nonspecific Eastern European kingdom saturated with vodka and violence. Rather than portraying the downfall of a single tragic hero, Falls’ apocalyptic production suggested a larger collapse. King Lear demonstrated Falls’ singular directorial vision, leading many audience members and critics to ask an important question: is this what Shakespeare intended? For theater practitioners—Falls himself included—staging a text by a long-dead playwright provokes different questions and presents different challenges than do contem-

porary plays. How can we, in our own place and time, make sense of words written 400 years ago? Theater in its many forms—storytelling, dance, religious ceremony—has found its way into all human societies since prehistory. Before the advent of film, these transitory performances could not be recorded, leaving historians to speculate about them from limited evidence. While cave paintings in Europe suggest ancient dancing rituals, for example, we lack the requisite knowledge to recreate these dances. But in certain civilizations, economic, social and artistic forces combine to create an abundance of scripted theatrical works—what we might call “plays.” A printed script, however ancient, provides a tangible record of one important aspect of these theatrical works: the text. In Athens in the fifth century BCE, a flourishing democratic society gave citizens the time and resources to focus on artistic pursuits; Greek dramas such as Oedipus Rex and Antigone

are now staples of high school and college curricula. During the Yuan Dynasty in China, several theatrical traditions melded to create sophisticated dance-dramas, texts of which survive today. In Spain, the seventeenth century is often referred to as “el siglo de oro” or “the golden century,” in part because it gave rise to playwrights like Pedro Calderón de la Barca and Lope de Vega. But perhaps the most celebrated theatrical era is Elizabethan and Jacobean England: the stomping grounds of Ben Jonson, Christopher Marlowe, Thomas Kyd and the indomitable William Shakespeare. Although at least a few of his works are lost, Shakespeare’s legacy includes 38 plays in which he examines a diverse array of topics, from love to war, from lust to reason, from monarchical minutiae to overarching political doctrines. These texts afford us a glimpse, however heightened and poetic, of his era, and demonstrate myriad ways in which human experience stays constant over time. Because we can read Shakespeare’s 83

texts, we rightly feel that we know him much better than we know those ancient cave dancers. But beyond the texts themselves, much about Shakespeare and his work remains mysterious to the 21st century viewer. His biography is full of gaps that historians fill with educated guesses, and without a time machine we can only speculate about what his plays looked like on stage. The prologue to Romeo and Juliet, for example, mentions that the young lovers’ story takes “two hours traffic of our stage.” Since performing the play at a normal pace by twenty-first century standards results in a much longer “traffic of our stage,” historians wonder if Shakespeare’s actors delivered their lines at a rate that would render them incomprehensible to an audience today, or if they performed cut versions of the text—perhaps they even improvised text for each performance. Historical evidence also suggests that the acting troupes made minimal use of props, and wore costumes that resembled their own everyday garb—but these are speculations. Little is known about acting style; critics of the day lauded actors for their “naturalness,” but the Elizabethan idea of naturalistic acting may not have resembled our own. Added to these complexities is many scholars’ doubt that Shakespeare penned all the plays attributed to him. Nearly 400 years after Shakespeare’s death, we have printed versions of most of his plays—but only scant knowledge of the vibrant theatrical events that entertained whores, queens and middleclass workers in an age long past. In order to create a living, breathing work, 21st century artists must envision how the play will work onstage without any reliable notion of the original. While the works of more recently deceased playwrights such as Samuel Beckett or Tennesee Williams are often managed by descen84

Bruce Young and Del Close in Robert Falls’ 1987 production of The Tempest. Photo by Lisa Ebright.

dants or estates, Shakespeare’s works are in the public domain, meaning that anyone can cut or adapt his text freely. And because his works deal with universal, timeless subjects, artists through the ages have consistently found new ways to view Shakespeare through the perspective of their own time, place, life experience and artistic vision. In the introduction to the 1964 book, Shakespeare Our Contemporary, by Jan Kott, Martin Esslin addresses the phenomenon of revisiting classics from new vantage points: Great works of art have an autonomous existence, independent of the intention and personality of their creators and independent also of the circumstances of the time of their creation, that is the mark of their greatness. The tragedies of Aeschylus, the paintings of El Greco, the poems of John Donne have a significance to twentieth century man of which the contemporaries of their creation could not have had the remotest notion. Over the past four centuries, inter-

pretations of Shakespeare’s work have varied widely, often including elements of which Elizabethan audiences would not have had “the remotest notion.” Many nineteenth century theater-makers tacked happy endings onto tragedies, hoping to improve their ticket sales. For particularly stodgy Victorians, Shakespeare’s work proved too bawdy; they cut the naughty bits to make his work more suitable to their tastes. Shakespeare’s plays have inspired operas, ballets and films, and his work has been translated into hundreds of languages; with the advent of film in the early twentieth century, artists had a new medium with which to interpret classic plays. Meanwhile, throughout the twentieth century, artists continued to reimagine Shakespeare, with directors such as Peter Brook and Andrei Serban building their reputations on their interpretations of Shakespeare. Despite this, some artists have made forceful attempts at historical accuracy; in 1997 a reconstructed version of Shakespeare’s theater opened in London, only about 750 feet from its original position. This theater, called

the most radical theater director, the most casual audience member reads Shakespeare from his or her own vantage point. For Robert Falls, envisioning Shakespeare is a long and complex process during which he reads and considers the text carefully. He then allows his 21st century perspective to influence the process. In the case of Measure for Measure, this means setting the play in 1970s New York. “Shakespeare is so full-blooded,” he says. “Why not present the work in modern imagery and let there be a dialogue between the language and the imagery?”

Shakespeare’s Globe, often uses period staging techniques and costuming, recreating the original productions as closely as possible. But even if they were able to restore the productions exactly, 21st century audiences bring their own mindsets to the theater, viewing the plays not as new works native to their own city,

as an Elizabethan audience did, but as historical pieces—so they understand the plays differently. They may consider Shakespeare’s work from angles the playwright could not have imagined—it might strike them as sexist, for example, that Shakespeare’s plays were performed entirely by men. Like

ABOVE: (L to R) Celeste M. Cooper (Juliet) and James Newcomb (Duke) in Shakespeare’s Measure for Measure, directed by Robert Falls. Goodman Theatre. 12/13. Photo by Liz Lauren. BELOW: Shakespeare’s Globe Theatre. Photo by Linda Nylind. Photo courtesy of Shakespeare’s Globe Theatre.

From Shakepeare’s London to 1970’s New York by Elia Maria Lintz Originally Printed in the Goodman’s Study Guide for Measure for Measure

Shakespeare often wrote his plays to provide a commentary on what was going on in London. Measure for Measure was first performed in 1604, but Shakespeare may have written the play in 1603. During this time frame, England experienced a drastic shift in the political and social climate. Director Robert Falls has set Goodman’s production of Measure for Measure in 1970s New York City. How do you set a Shakespearean play in a semi-modern setting? New York City in the 1970s and England in 1603 have many similarities that allow both Shakespeare’s commentary and the artistic vision to mesh seamlessly. As Shakespeare was writing Measure for Measure, England was undergoing its first transition in monarchy in 44 years. Queen Elizabeth I had died and her godson, James VI of Scotland, inherited the crown, becoming James I of England. Although this transition of power was relatively smooth, most Brits had never witnessed a transfer of power before. This could have influenced him to write Measure for Measure as a cautionary tale for James I, who was the patron of Shakespeare’s theater company. Fast forward almost 400 years and New York City was experiencing its own transition of power. After years of the city being in financial disrepair, Ed Koch was elected mayor. His predecessor, Abraham Beame, had made severe budget reductions and workforce cuts to prevent bankruptcy. The unhappiness of New Yorkers and the disparity of the city caused for a contentious mayoral race and a demand for political change. 86

Both London and New York City were dirty, dangerous and violent cities. A police force did not exist in London so the military policed the city. The military personnel were more concerned with military matters and were often invisible in the city. Its members also were fairly benign and disregarded anything but violent crimes. The aloofness of the patrolling force in London caused a rise in pickpockets and minor crime. Shakespeare uses the character of Elbow, an ambivalent and rather clueless constable, to illustrate the attitude of the police in London. Elbow is ignorant to the true state of the law in Vienna, much like police in London were ignorant of the situation in London. In New York City, the budget cuts resulted in a deficit of police officers. Low numbers of police added to the danger of a city at the end of its rope. The end of 1976 brought an outbreak of murders by serial killer Son of Sam. A major blackout in 1977 resulted in looting and riots. Not to mention, New York City also experienced heavy drug use and trafficking, theft, assaults and other crimes that were out of the control of the police. Along with being dangerous, London and New York City were both dirty. Both cities were overpopulated and overcrowded, respectively creating an excess of waste. In London, garbage and waste were simply thrown into the street or the River Thames. Londoners lacked a perception of hygiene, and dirt and grime created a permanent smell to the city. The lack of sanitation bred rats that carried the bubonic

plague. Not quite different, New York City of the 1970s also teemed with garbage. The financial situation of New York in 1975 caused more than 3,000 sanitation workers to be laid off. Outraged, the city’s employed sanitation workers decided to strike and walk out on the job. The three-week strike resulted in garbage being abandoned in piles on streets, increasing New York’s already formidable rat population. The rampant presence of prostitution only added to the seediness of our respective cities. Each had areas notorious for its brothels and prostitutes: Southwark in London and Times Square in New York. Both Southwark and Times Square were considered the entertainment district of their respective city. Authorities often turned a blind eye to prostitution in both cities; poverty levels contributed to the frequency of trade. Prostitutes were usually women who had no other means of supporting themselves. If Shakespeare would have visited 1970s New York City, he most certainly would have recognized some of the same social issues. Despite being almost 400 years apart, the same problems plague these cities. Shakespeare used his plays as commentary on the prevalent social issues he was privy, but what he encountered has since reoccurred, making his work relevant to different eras and locations.

And the Colored Girl Goes... by Willa J. Taylor, Walter Director of Education and Engagement Originally Printed in the Goodman’s Study Guide for Measure for Measure

When I finished Naval basic training in Florida in 1974, I immediately headed for New York City. A Texas girl who had plotted her escape from the sticks for years, I returned to home just long enough to pick up my civvies and hop a plane headed east. Four of my college roommates had moved to Manhattan that summer after graduation. It had been our plan since meeting our freshman year. Joel, Danny, Armancio, Susan and I would get an apartment, split the rent and do odd jobs until we got our breaks. Susan and Joel would be supernumeraries at the Metropolitan Opera until Plácido Domingo overheard them singing in the cafeteria and demanded they give them leads. Armancio figured he could hawk his drawings on the street. Danny, an organist, actually had a job offer from First Presbyterian. The only nonartist in the group (I was a journalism major), I would be a stringer until the Village Voice hired me full time. My detour to the Navy (part of my grand plan to be a foreign correspondent but driven by an “invitation” not to return to the University of Texas before I could graduate) meant I would be there on weekends since I was stationed in D.C. for the next four years. The New York we lived in was nothing like it is now, a Disney-fied temple of consumerism. It was dirty, squalid, dangerous, edgy and wondrous. It was a ruin in the making. If the grime and crime didn’t destroy it, the rats most certainly would. My roomies had found a marvelous Upper West Side apartment in a once — and future —glorious building: the Ansonia, home to the Continental Baths, a gay bathhouse where Bette Midler

performed. Now one of the most coveted addresses in New York, we had a seven-room wonder in an architectural jewel for $500 a month (maintenance fees alone in that building are 10 times that now). Our apartment was furnished exclusively through scavenging through trash. When old people died without wills or heirs, the landlords would clean the apartments, taking whatever they wanted for themselves and setting the rest of the deceased’s belongings out on the sidewalk. That was cheaper than hiring a removal van. We would go through the boxes and help ourselves. Pickings were especially good on the Upper East Side, a mere stroll through Central Park. We were comfortable because we could live on very little, a minimalist style that became an aesthetic. Our military styled field jackets, mine the only one actually issued, were in thrift store abundance as Vietnam wound down, cost about $3 and were very warm. Made chic by Robert De Niro in “Taxi Driver,” they were battle dress in a city under siege.

of Midtown and the financial district, the city was inhabited principally by hustlers, panhandlers, flea baggers, immigrants, dreamers and artists. For those of us who had romanced the free city from afar, this was not an issue. Manhattan felt depopulated even in daylight. We thought of the place as a free city of intrigue and licentiousness like the eponymous Casablanca. By 1975, the light through our floor-to-ceiling French windows on the Upper West Side was often the glow of trash fires in Harlem. A sanitation strike was in progress, and mounds of refuse, reeking in the heat, decorated the curbs of every neighborhood. But instead of being double-bagged in plastic as they are now, they were simply set on fire every night. The spectacle achieved the transition from apocalyptic to dully normal in a matter of days.

To the backdrop of the continuing Vietnam war — and the Four Dead in Ohio, Watergate and Nixon’s resignation, a looming energy crisis and a decidedly more militant struggle for racial justice -— sexual progressiveness begat political backlash and social liberation for women, Blacks and gays. Manhattan was ground zero, and as the city crumbled into ruin under mismanagement and financial collapse, people lost themselves in sexual abandon and a drug-fueled haze.

New York is home to Ellis Island and so has always been home to large immigrant populations. The immigration reforms of 1968 flooded the city with smells and sounds from all over the globe. African Americans, European Jews, the Chinese and the Irish had already staked out territory across Manhattan. Squeezed into already overcrowded tenements came Puerto Ricans, Dominicans and Salvadorians. Racial tensions, often checked by geography, sweltered in the stench of summer heat and unleashed fire that hydrants couldn’t rinse away.

The city was broke. So were we. Aside from the high-intensity blocks

New York in 1976 was a cesspool of corrupt officials and raging 87

racial tensions. Conditions in Harlem and Bed-Stuy and the Bronx were horrendous. Abandoned buildings were held together by graffiti. There was widespread poverty and pornography. Muggers, rapists and prostitutes ruled with impunity. David Berkowitz, the Son of Sam, was beginning his reign of terror, randomly shooting victims around the city, further terrorizing already traumatized communities. The subways were toilets, unsafe and unreliable at best. And the entire infrastructure of the city was collapsing. And yet….

A Chorus Line was running on Broad-

way; Carl Perkins and disco was the soundtrack of the city, paving the way for Donna Summer, the Bee Gees and KC and the Sunshine Band; Live from Lincoln Center was debuting on PBS; Jimmy Carter accepted the nomination for president at the Javitz Center during the Democratic National Convention, which saw Barbara Jordan become the first Black woman ever to speak at a national political convention. The city was preparing for the country’s bicentennial. It was the worst of times. It was the best of times. It was New York City.

Discussion What is the soundtrack of your life? How about your home or neighborhood? What music characterizes your generation? If Measure for Measure were set in modern day Chicago, how would the culture of the play change?

“It was the worst of times. It was the best of times. It was New York City.” The title for this article is taken from one of my favorite songs about New York, “Walk on the Wild Side.” Lou Reed’s seminal 1972 recording captures everything there was about that time – my time – in the city, the filth, the sex, the drugs, the hustle. Produced by David Bowie, it featured as backup singers one of the most evocatively named groups ever, The Thunderthighs. Marinated with a double bass back beat driving a searing jazz sax played by the guy who taught Bowie to blow, it appeared on Reed’s LP Transformers. The title for the track, as Reed tells it, was an homage to “A Walk on the Wild Side,” Nelson Algren’s 1956 novel which is most often quoted for Algren’s “three rules of life”: “Never play cards with a man called Doc. Never eat at a place called Mom’s. Never sleep with a woman whose troubles are worse than your own.” Algren noted, “The book asks why lost people sometimes develop into greater human beings than those who have never been lost in their whole lives.” And in the mid-1970’s, New York was all about being lost. New York – and when we say New York it ALWAYS means the city, not the state – has inspired hundreds of writers, artists, playwrights, filmmakers and composers. “Empire State of Mind,” the brilliant track from Jay-Z’s The Blueprint with a searing chorus and piano loop by Alicia Keys, is near and dear to my heart, making me homesick for Katz’s corned beef and the jaded streets of Brooklyn every time I hear it. For more songs about New York, check out our website. There you can find a link to TimeOut New York’s list of “The 100 Best Songs about New York” and listen to both of my favorites and discover one of your own. ~Willa J. Taylor

Was Shakespeare a Feminist?

by Susan Jonas, co-editor of American Theatre magazine Originally Printed in the Goodman’s Study Guide for Measure for Measure

The term feminism, coined in the late 19th century, simply means the belief that men and women are equally capable and deserving, and should have political, economic and social equality. To most of us that probably seems self-evident. Although even today there are still significant disparities between men and women in access, opportunity, compensation and representation, parity is an explicit and attainable goal in this country. This is not the case in many other countries where the status of women is similar — even far worse — than what it was in Shakespeare’s time.

women made some modest gains, but by the time Measure for Measure was written, she had died and Catholic James I had ascended to the throne. He was far less liberal than Elizabeth in his views about marriage and women, and there are clear parallels between Angelo and King James in their extreme prudery, hypocrisy and power abuse. In fact, the play references the writings of James I. Is Isabella a feminist heroine because she resists Angelo and refuses to sacrifice her virtue? Certainly

she is outlandishly brave, standing up to corrupt authority, and does not conform to the prescription for female behavior, which is to be, above all, submissive and silent. But she does seem a little in love with the idea of being a martyr.

Elizabeth I, Queen of England and Ireland, c1588. Version of the Armada portrait attributed to George Gower. The last Tudor monarch, Elizabeth I ruled from 1558 until 1603. From the National Portrait Gallery. Photo by Ann Ronan Pictures/Print Collector/Getty Images.

In 1604, when Measure for Measure was first performed, the very concept of equality between the sexes was generally inconceivable. There were those who advocated for greater rights for women — for example, that women receive some education, and that wife-beating, which was protected under the law, be administered with some restraint. But the idea that men and women were equal was unthinkable except to a very few philosophers. Women were considered physically and mentally weak — incapable of reason but also morally weak, fundamentally sinful. Wives were the legal property of their fathers until they became the property of their husbands. They could not choose whom to marry or if and when to have children. They were not permitted to go to school, although in aristocratic families they were permitted some education with private tutors. Elizabeth I was called The Virgin Queen because she never married; she refused to do so because she would have lost her power as a monarch and would have had to defer to her husband. During her reign, 89

Alejandra Escalante (Isabella) in Shakespeare’s Measure for Measure, directed by Robert Falls. Goodman Theatre. Season 12/13. Photo by Liz Lauren.

“The impression of keen whips I’d wear as rubies, And strip myself to death, as to a bed That longing have been sick for, ere I’d yield My body up to shame.” To borrow from another play: “Methinks the lady doth protest too much.” Her horror of sex seems rather extreme, the squeamish response of a schoolgirl. And consider her behavior toward her brother. He is clearly terrified by the prospect of death and begs: “Sweet sister, let me live….” What is her response? “O you beast! O faithless coward! ... Die, perish! … No word to save thee.” Hardly the compassion or comfort we expect from a loving sister or would-be nun! Isabella’s most famous line, “More than our brother is our honor,” should not be taken at face value; it’s virtuous but chillingly inhumane. It’s too easy to see Angelo as evil oppressor and Isabella as virtuous victim, and Shakespeare doesn’t do easy. Both are complex characters, with strengths and weaknesses. Both believe in the absolute repression of unruly sexual feelings, which 90

is unrealistic. Both will learn they are vulnerable to desire; they are human. The movement of pure comedy is toward justice and normalcy. Goodness is rewarded and the wicked are punished — appropriately, or measure for measure. SPOILER ALERT: So it is fitting that Angelo is sentenced to death and Lucio to whipping and hanging. But the spirit of comedy is very forgiving, and ending with an execution would not be festive. Both sentences are commuted to marriage: Angelo to the fiancée he jilted and Lucio to the prostitute he impregnated. Claudio is finally officially wed to Juliet. Who is left unmatched? Comedies of this type always end with a wedding. Or two. Here, four. The duke does not ask Isabella for her hand; he says “Give me your hand and say you will be mine.” Is this an order? He does not allow her to reply. Why does Isabella, never at a loss for words, not say one word after the proposal? Is she happy or horrified? After all, she has been protesting her chastity for five acts, and now it is plucked from her by someone she can’t easily refuse. If we think about the

play within the contexts of the time and the genre, it seems clear that for this to be a happy ending, comic logic suggests she is delighted. For all her protestations of chastity and celibacy, in the end she is a red-blooded girl. In one production she tears off her habit and slaps on a bridal veil. Modern productions of the play have staged the ending very differently. During the ’60s and ’70s, when marriage was perceived by many women as oppressive, Isabella was understood to have lost her voice and autonomy and compelled to submit to the will of someone who, because of his gender and class, has greater power. That’s not a happy ending. In one production Isabella walks resolutely off the stage. Such a take is a feminist revision, which imagines that Isabella has the option to dictate her own fate. Within the context of that time, that is a happier ending because it allows Isabella choices, which was valued more than marriage. In Shakespeare’s time, the only alternative to marriage was joining a convent, and although many did so out of sincere religious convictions, many did so too because it was the only way to get an education. And in avoiding marriage,

a woman also avoided the great possibility of dying in childbirth. In this unequal world, Isabella’s choices are limited; she may have none at all. When we stand back and consider all of the heroines in Shakespeare’s comedies, we see a roster of women who have agency, which is to say they do not wait for things to happen to them; they take action. Often they are the architects of elaborate plots about which their lovers know nothing until the last moment of the play. Rosalind in As You Like It dresses as a boy and convinces the man she loves to practice making love to “him.” Portia in Merchant of Venice disguises herself as a lawyer to rescue her fiancé’s best friend. Shakespeare’s Kate in Taming of the Shrew, sharp-tongued Beatrice in Much Ado about Nothing and Viola in Twelfth Night — all are intelligent, witty, quick-thinking and extremely articulate — as much as any male

character, and often more so. Clearly Shakespeare was able to see women as complex and capable, as fully human, and in that way he saw men and women as equals. This could not be said of many of the playwrights who preceded or followed him. However, every single one of these women ends up marrying; they are, according to comic logic, happy to relinquish their adventurousness and independence and submit to their husbands’ authority. Shakespeare could not have envisioned gender equality or a happy ending for a woman other than marriage. He could not have predicted first wave feminism, which won women the right to vote less than a century ago, nor second wave feminism and the women’s movement in the ’60s and ’70s, when women organized themselves to demand equal pay and opportunity, the right

to decide whether or not to have children and the right not to marry or remain single. Such things were unimaginable, even to the playwright with the most expansive imagination of all time. We might call him a protofeminist, meaning he anticipated and laid the groundwork for what was to come. And though we can’t call him a feminist, we can certainly call him a humanist.

ABOVE: Rep. Bella Abzug, (D-N.Y.), feminist Gloria Steinem and Lt. Gov. Maryann Krupsak of New York (L-R) chat with the marchers and newsmen in midtown Manhattan prior to the start of the International Women’s Day March. Some 2,000 women from all walks of life joined the solidarity march in which they demanded full economic political, legal, sexual and racial equality and the right to control their own lives and bodies. 1975. Photo courtesy of Bettman/Getty Images.

Further Articles from the Goodman’s Study Guide for Measure for Measure, 2013 For more information on the production, context, and themes of the Goodman’s Measure for Measure, please visit the complete study guide. Descriptions of these articles can be found below.

“Duke or Stage Manager?” by Elia Maria Lintz

“The World of the Understudy” by Maria Nelson

A look at the life of an understudy for a production at the Goodman. An understudy replaces a lead actor if they cannot perform for certain shows.

“Theater Companies Then and Now” By Elia Maria Lintz

“LIGHTS! Or How Not to Burn Down the Theater” by Elizabeth Rice

“Printing Shakespeare” by Elia Maria Lintz

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“On Lucio, a ‘Fantastic’” by Maria Nelson

“Shakespeare in the Bush” by Laura Bohannan

This article compares the action onstage to that of behind the scenes, showing how the character Duke Vincentio of Measure for Measure is like a stage manager, one who is in charge of making a performance happen.

A comparison of acting troupes in Shakespeare’s time to acting companies today.

This article describes the instruments and uses of common, modern lighting technology for theater and takes a look back at lighting in Shakespeare’s time.

Shakespeare’s play were printed in several different ways as a prompt book, foul papers, quartos, and folios. This article describes each of these publications.

Lucio, a character in Measure for Measure, is described as a “fantastic.” This article explores what Shakespeare might have meant. “Shakespeare and Spoken Word” by Fatimah Asghar Fatimah Asghar, an award-winning poet, performer, and educator, writes on the nature of Shakespeare and spoken word artists. She shows us that poetry and verse are not removed from the language of everyday people; rather, they are intrinsic to them.

Originally published in the August-September, 1966 issue of National History Magazine. An American anthropologist set out to study the Tiv of West Africa and was taught the true meaning of Hamlet. Reprinted in full with permission from the publisher.

Shakespeare, Adaptation, and the Film-Like Quality of Theatre by Maria Nelson Originally Printed in the Goodman’s Study Guide for Measure for Measure

Shakespeare’s plays have been adapted for film for more than a century. In 1899, theater manager Sir Herbert Beerbohm Tree directed and starred in the first known film version of a Shakespeare work, a four minute, silent segment of King John. Shakespeare’s works have to this day influenced hundreds of movies and television productions. The Internet Movie Database (IMDb) cites William Shakespeare as the writer for 938 titles. Although the number of feature-length films of Shakespeare’s works is much smaller, there are still many hundreds. Needless to say, Shakespeare’s writing has transcended the realm of live theater in overwhelming proportions. Perhaps the most all-encompassing film series based on Shakespeare’s works is the 37-volume BBC series “The Shakespeare Collection,” completed in 1988 after beginning taping just 10 years prior. This includes director Desmond Davis’s Measure for Measure. Besides these, the most well-known versions today, according to a list on pbs.org, are largely from 1965 or later, although there are a few key productions, such as 1916 versions of Macbeth and Romeo and Juliet during film’s silent era.

“At the most basic level, [screen adaptation] involves taking a work of art originally conceived for one medium and ‘translating’ it to fit another. If Marshall McLuhan was right in his famous dictum that the medium is the message, this ought to be an impossible task, especially since there is … a fundamental disjunction between the aesthetic of film and the aesthetic of literary texts, in that one centers on images and the other on the written word.” Jan Kott, author of “Shakespeare Our Contemporary,” on the other hand, argues that Shakespeare’s plays are in many cases naturally suited for film — moreso than some scripts, thus making adaptation easier: “Shakespeare’s plays have been divided in the theater into a number of scenes according to the places of action. After the theater had abandoned the Elizabethan

convention, it tried in vain to put the scenes together to form some sort of entity. A scenario is not divided into scenes, but into shots and sequences. Shakespeare’s plays are also composed of shots and sequences … Olivier’s films [for example] have demonstrated the fluency, homogeneity and rapidity of action in Shakespeare’s plays.” Of course, fundamental differences exist between the medium of film and the medium of theater that might impede the success of Shakespeare on film. As Russell Jackson writes in “The Cambridge Companion to Shakespeare on Film,” “The most obvious difference between a screenplay and the text of an Elizabethan play is the number of spoken words.” On film, a close-up shot may serve the same purpose as a soliloquy on stage — to get inside a character’s head — in significantly fewer words. In fact, Alfred Hitchcock once commented about this difference, mockingly: “The

An adaptation of Measure for Measure in the British army. Lucky Strike Productions and Press On Features. 2006. Photo courtesy of IMDb.

But what does it take to adapt Shakespeare to a screenplay? The answer to this question varies quite a bit amongst scholars. Lisa Hopkins, author of “Relocating Shakespeare and Austen on Screen,” presents the opinion that film adaptation is difficult and often unsuccessful, especially with the work of a great author such as Shakespeare. 93

cinema … has seen stage directions in Shakespeare’s poetry where decades of theatrical craftsmen have seen only words.” Moreover, both film and theater productions must take into account the constraints of each respective industry; production budgets for film are generally significantly larger than for theater, and films are produced for a much larger audiences. The factor of marketability in the film industry is not negligible, and Shakespeare’s works pose even more challenges for creating a massmarketable film. As Jackson writes, quoting a fellow scholar, “‘Certain elements we need to market a film successfully … suspense, laughter, violence, hope, heart, nudity, sex, happy endings — mainly happy endings.’ [However] in the academic study of Shakespeare happy endings, together with anything else that might smooth the path of the plays’ characters, have long been out of favor.” This is especially the case for Shakespeare’s

not so-tidy “problem plays,” including Measure for Measure. Today, we arguably rely upon visual cues to interpret art more than anything else, and we are certainly a more visual culture than the British of Shakespeare’s time. In order to preserve the timelessness of Shakespeare’s works for an audience that demands visual theater, perhaps film-like productions are appropriate. In fact, Michèle Williams, in an essay published in “The Cambridge Companion to Shakespeare on Film,” cites criticism of a production of Measure for Measure that called for exactly this film-like quality: “The wide distribution of [Shakespeare’s works] through video develops a Shakespearean media culture which in turn nurtures an interactive relationship between theatre and film … Michael Billington’s reaction to Stéphane Braunschweig’s 1997 production of Measure for Measure for the Edinburgh Festival is a case

What Is Black Comedy? Shakespeare was a pioneer when he blended the genres of comedy and tragedy in Measure for Measure, but modern audiences are familiar with the genre. Black Comedy takes heavy, controversial or off-limits subject matter and treats it in a comedic way. Black comedies tend to walk the line between shocking audiences and entertaining them, allowing audiences to experience both laughter and discomfort. One of the most popular writers and directors of black comedy today is Quentin Tarantino, who is famous for his subject matter and the controversy surrounding his films. Other famous Black Comedies include: - “A Clockwork Orange” (1971), directed by Stanley Kubrick - “Life of Brian” (1978), directed by Terry Jones - “Pulp Fiction” (1994), directed by Quentin Tarantino - “Fargo” (1996), directed by Joel Coen - “The Royal Tenenbaums” (2001), directed by Wes Anderson - “Shaun of the Dead” (2004), directed by Edgar Wright - “Little Miss Sunshine” (2006), directed by Jonathan Dayton and Valerie Faris - “Django Unchained” (2012), directed by Quentin Tarantino 94

in point: ‘It lacks the cinematic fluency we expect in modern Shakespeare. Rather than melt into each other, scenes are divided up by the onward march of the revolve.’” Adapting Shakespeare to new media as they emerge goes well with the notion that Shakespeare’s works are constantly evolving, 400 years after his death. As M.M. Bakhtin wrote in 1970, “We can say that neither Shakespeare nor his contemporaries knew that ‘great Shakespeare’ whom we know now. There is no possibility of squeezing our Shakespeare into the Elizabethan epoch ... He has grown because of that which actually has been and continues to be found in his work, but which neither he himself nor his contemporaries could consciously perceive and evaluate in the context of the culture of their epoch.” Perhaps Kenneth S. Rockwell said it best in his “A History of Shakespeare on Screen”: “The history of Shakespeare in the movies has, after all, been the search for the best available means to replace the verbal with the visual imagination, an inevitable development deplored by some but interpreted by others as not so much a limitation on, as an extension of, Shakespeare’s genius into uncharted seas.” And, as an article on pbs.org describing the production process of “Shakespeare in Love” notes, “The need to emphasize the visual for a 20th century audience was too tempting for them to ignore.” Of course, the argument about whether adaptation is good or bad — an unnecessary change in medium vs. a natural progression of Shakespeare into the contemporary era — can be made both ways. But in some cases the answer might even be rooted in the text itself. So let’s look at the case of

Measure for Measure. Measure for Measure seems particularly suited for film. In fact, this is the key argument in H.R. Coursen’s essay “Why Measure for Measure?” Largely, Coursen’s argument is based upon the notion that a problem play is similar to melodrama — “a mode that may seem to raise profound issues but does not pretend to solve them” — a genre that

was already known to work well on screen. But furthermore, Coursen argues that the structure of the text of Measure for Measure is even episodic, “a series of vivid one-on-one confrontations.” In a later essay, Coursen argues that Measure for Measure, for these reasons, is an especially modern play: “The play itself ... presses into the new millennium, seeking new ways of becoming ‘excitingly relevant’ and becoming almost immediately anachronistic, but not irrelevant, since it permits us to reconstruct the history from which it emerged.” Measure for Measure already has the elements that work best on film — short, one on-one conversations, eavesdropping characters, a non-linear progression — but not those that prevent success on film, such as the need for a large budget or extravagant sets. Andrew Dickson, reacting to the 1978 BBC film version of Measure for Measure directed by Desmond Davis, notes,

“The budgetary and creative restrictions that torpedoed others in the series — flimsy sets, tawdry costuming, woeful picture quality — here become kind of a virtue, with gloomy, interior spaces and a down-at-heel feel adding to the play’s subterranean atmosphere.” In keeping with this Shakespeare play’s inherent modernity, producing it on film, or incorporating film-like elements on stage, seems only natural. Ultimately, it makes the most sense to say that in any modern production of Shakespeare, whether it be on stage or on screen, probably incorporates elements of both film and traditional theater. Russell Jackson writes, “Films made from Shakespeare plays exist at a meeting point between conflicting cultural assumptions, rival theories and practices of performance and — at the most basic level — the uneasy and overlapping systems of theatre and cinema.” And Jackson’s comment seems to apply in reverse — if theater were to emulate film.

Iconic 1970s films of New York City Robert Falls’s Measure for Measure is set in New York City in the late 1970s, which was home to a burgeoning film industry. The list below a knowledges some iconic films that share Measure for Measure’s setting. - “All That Jazz” (1979), directed by Bob Fosse - “Blowout” (1981), directed by Brian De Palma - “The Driller Killer” (1979), directed by Abel Ferrara - “Dog Day Afternoon” (1975), directed by Sidney Lumet - “The French Connection” (1971), directed by William Friedkin - “Manhattan” (1979), directed by Woody Allen - “Mean Streets” (1973), directed by Martin Scorsese - “Prince of the City” (1981), directed by Sidney Lumet - “Saturday Night Fever” (1977), directed by John Badham - “Serpico” (1973), directed by Sidney Lumet - “Taxi Driver” (1976), directed by Martin Scorsese - “The Warriors” (1979), directed by Walter Hill TOP: A cinematic take on Shakespeare’s life. Film. Shakespeare in Love. 1998. Photo courtesy of IMDB. BOTTOM: Stéphane Braunschweig’s 1997 production of Measure for Measure. Photo by Robert DAY.

Measure for Measure OnScreen Perhaps the most all-encompassing film series based on Shakespeare’s works is the 37-volume BBC series “The Shakespeare Collection,” completed in 1988 after beginning taping just 10 years prior. This includes director Desmond Davis’s Measure for Measure, starring Kenneth Colley, Kate Nelligan, Tim Pigott-Smith, Christopher Strauli and John McEnery. The Goodman Theatre recorded a 20 minute audio synopsis. Follow this link to listen.

Measure for Measure

Written by William Shakespeare Directed by Desmond Davis Starring | Kenneth Colley, Kate Nelligan, Tim Pigott-Smith, Christopher Strauli & John McEnery Released | 1979 Running Time | 2 hrs 25 mins This film is available for rent from Netflix or BroadwayHD. ABOVE: Graphic design for BBC’s Measure for Measure. 1979. Photo courtesy of BroadwayHD. BELOW: (L to R) Alejandra Escalante (Isabella) and Jay Whittaker (Angelo) in Shakespeare’s Measure for Measure, directed by Robert Falls. Photo by Liz Lauren.