REVIEW | AFTERLIFE: A GHOST STORY
By Richard Martin
Perhaps Dylan Thomas was onto more than he realized when, in his “Reminiscences of Childhood,” he recalled having blithely watched “the fierce religious speakers who shouted at the sea, as though it were wicked and wrong to roll in and out like that . . . .”
In Steve Yockey’s “Afterlife: A Ghost Story,” now in its premiere at New Repertory Theatre in Watertown, Danielle, full of anguish, and empty of much else, kneels on a beach near the booming waves and shouts fiercely at the sea, accusing it of being wicked and wrong to roll in and out like that, and in one swift, terrible moment to have taken her son.
She is engulfed by grief.
At first we don’t know why Danielle can scarcely bear to step into the small, well-ordered house by the sea. Her husband, Connor, strolls right in and makes ready to put up the storm shutters as the wind picks up and the ever-louder thunder cracks ominously. But by the middle of the night, when Danielle goes to the ocean’s edge, we understand. The funeral for their son is over. They have escaped their families to return to their home, but not to stay, just to board it up before the storm.
With funeral, family condolences, the return home, arrangement of the storm shutters, and other steps toward moving on, Connor has silently organized his grieving process. Danielle, who shifts from composure to petulance to anger to isolation and perhaps hallucination, has not.
Stranded on separate emotional planes, Danielle (Marianna Bassham in a wonderful performance) and Connor (nicely underplayed by Thomas Piper) now have no idea how to talk to each other or even to be with each other. Danielle, who understands this better than Connor, tells him, “It’s hard to start talking again when you get used to not talking.” Which brings her down to the ocean.
What they want most will never happen. What they need most – each other – seems almost unreachable because in every way except for their physical location they are in two different places. Connor wants to fix them, and he’s started with himself. So the hard is about to get harder.
Mr. Yockey draws us into this void with remarkably affecting and truthful dialogue, completely absent of any melodrama. We care about Danielle and Connor and want to know whether they can reconnect and reconcile themselves to what has happened. But that’s not where the story goes.
Instead, we’re transported to an afterlife, and the focus moves abruptly from the personal to the metaphysical. What is the afterlife? Where is it? What do people do there? And do they connect with the world we live in? I suppose the play’s title is a clue.
The problem is that Act 2 is a different play. It is not unrelated to the first act, which ends on a note that I won’t give away here, but the change in focus and character, in rhythm and tone is so abrupt and far-reaching that it leaves us suspended in midair. Here a young man spends his time looking out into – space? – and otherwise writing letters to his parents. Each day, a postman visits, listens patiently to different things the young man tells him, accepts a letter, but then tears it up and throws it away. At one point the young man says that he almost drowned once, but was washed up somewhere far away.
Here, time is fluid and amorphous. Although the young man is certainly Danielle and Connor’s son, he is not the small child we had envisioned, and the two images feel disjointed.
There are others in the afterlife, who also interact with a resident functionary like the postman. Although never clear, it seems that the task for each person is to spend the time necessary to come to terms with his or her life on earth.
But while many of us may be interested in what an afterlife might be like, it’s living here and now that most of us want to understand. How can we do it well, or at least better? When confronted with tragedy and heartbreak, how do we face them? And how do we then find a way back to our daily lives when someone we love deeply is no longer there? Few of us will escape these hardships.
Still, “Afterlife” is a play you should see, and not just for the first act. Mr. Yockey’s writing is exceptional, and the play is skillfully paced by the direction of Kate Warner, who is also New Rep’s artistic director. Cristina Tedesco’s warm and tidy beach-home set creates just the right counterpoint to those who live there. And special accolades must go to David Remedios, whose sound design is in essence another character in the play.
You may not get any answers, but the questions are important. Oh, and keep your eye on the letters.
(With Adrianne Krstansky, Georgia Lyman, Karl Baker Olson, and Dale Place)
Thursday, January 20, 2011
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
A Divided “Afterlife”
By Jana Pollack, New Rep Reviewer
Steve Yockey’s “Afterlife: A Ghost Story” is a puzzling piece of theater. In examining the way a couple deals with losing a young child, it takes two entirely different approaches. The first act is grounded in reality, the here and now – the play opens with the couple, Danielle and Connor, returning to their beach house for the first time since their son drowned there. For the entirety of the act, we watch them struggle in different ways. Danielle is unable to escape her deep sorrow and guilt; Connor claims to have let his go. The disconnect causes a rift between them, and the push and pull as they try to find a way to survive together is fascinating and deeply sad.
When act two opens, though, it is clear that the previous play – the play set in this world – is over. Yockey has now placed Danielle and Connor in an alternate reality of sorts, where they must try to come to terms with the tragic death of their son. Gone is the lovely beach house setting, and in its place is a dark, unrecognizable land. Gone, too, is the realistic, relatable dialogue – now, for the most part, the characters speak only in long, cryptic speeches. A whole new cast of characters is introduced, and it’s not clear what is going on, or what the point is.
This is a jarring, disjointed change, and it came as a bit of a shock. In the first act, Yockey’s script begins to uncover insights into the human condition, despite the realistic trappings of the setting. In the second act, where insights are meant to be plentiful, I found the setting and language to be overly symbolic, and the cost of that was the loss of meaningful discoveries about the human ability to survive devastation.
As always at New Rep, though, this play is exquisitely acted. In the role of Danielle, Mairanna Bassham gives a beautiful performance. From the moment we see her, placing her bag on the ground before she steels herself and enters the house, her suffering is both real and muted, and she carries this intensity throughout the piece. In the role of Connor, Thomas Piper is the perfect foil for Danielle; immediately, his forced cheer gives away his pain.
The show is also technically excellent. David Remedios’ sound design is a large, effective presence, as is Karen Parsons’ lighting. These combine to make the ocean a palpable presence throughout, which Yockey’s script demands.
This play is supposed to present an idea about the afterlife, and it does put forth ideas about what might happen when we die. However, the part that allows its characters to navigate loss in this life is ultimately the most compelling, and the most insightful.
"afterlife: a ghost story": Good Grief
by Jack Craib, New Rep Reviewer
Even before the lights go up on New Rep’s production of Steve Yockey‘s “afterlife: a ghost story”, subtle clues begin to suggest what the author has in store. The program lists the cast in alphabetical order rather than in order of appearance, and only two have been given names. The sounds of the ocean are audible before any of the actors make their appearance, establishing the omnipresence of the sea which precedes and ultimately endures beyond them. The seemingly welcoming beach house awaits the return of its owners, but something isn’t quite as it should be, as it contains several picture frames from which photos have been removed. The audience is presented with such subliminal stimuli as though discomfort is intended, which indeed it is. The sense of impending crisis, existential dread, even inexorable doom, is palpable. Then there’s that titillating title.
Suddenly a young couple enters the house, and from their first words it becomes apparent that they’re only superficially communicating. Danielle (Marianna Bassham) is visibly distraught and distracted, while Connor (Thomas Piper) is unnaturally chipper. Something has definitely happened. Gradually, as though peeling back an onion of layers of repression, the author reveals what that something was, and the antithetical responses of each to their shared tragedy. It also becomes clear that, while each is grieving the same loss, their process of survival could not be more different. Clearer still is the undeniable reality that, as close as two people may be, each must necessarily make the voyage through the process of grieving alone. As the first act ends, it’s apparent that we still lack sufficient information to grasp what these two protagonists are feeling, but not to worry, just let it all wash over you.
If the first act evokes memories of Albee’s “A Delicate Balance”, the next act is reminiscent of the second act of Wilder’s “The Skin of Our Teeth”, as well as Carroll’s “Alice in Wonderland”. As it begins, we swiftly realize that, as Dorothy said to Toto, “We’re not in Kansas anymore”. We are presented with a third protagonist, identified as Young Man (Karl Baker Olson) and a menagerie of supporting players, including the proprietress of a bizarre tea house (Adrianne Krstansky), a seamstress who would be at home in “Great Expectations” (Georgia Lyman), and a brusque postman (Dale Place, who also plays another role that is supporting in more than one sense). Each will have their individual parts to play in easing the main characters through their process of grieving.
As amazingly directed by New Rep Artistic Director Kate Warner, this cast is flawless. They are aided and abetted by the incredibly pitch perfect sound design by David Remedios which is calibrated to every nuance in Yockey’s text. Kudos are also due to the lighting design by Karen Parsons, scenic design by Cristina Todesco, costume design by Frances Nelson McSherry, and puppet design by Pandora Andrea Gastelum. (No, that’s not a typo, there is puppetry afoot as well). The most amazing accomplishment of the production is that all these technical efforts combine seamlessly to produce a theatrical environment that would convert the most devout agnostic. What results is part profound tragedy and part divine comedy. Youthful theatergoers who have not yet experienced unfathomable loss may not identify with all that transpires by play’s end.
Truth to tell, the play doesn’t really end, and that’s as it should be, one suspects, in the afterlife. There are three distinct resolutions, one for each of the protagonists. In one case, endless anticipation and false hope are given closure when the character, Young Man, is no longer able to search for written communication. In another, Connor finds he must let go of all his remaining baggage to find true relief. Lastly, Danielle must surrender to the inevitable memory loss that she has sought in order to move beyond her pain and reestablish order. In the strictest dramatic sense, there is no end to the play, but a sense of perpetual denouement.
This may well be the best production New Rep has done in recent memory, due in large part to Yockey’s brilliant poetic new play. One feels like echoing Oliver Twist: “Please, sir, may we have some…more?”
Even before the lights go up on New Rep’s production of Steve Yockey‘s “afterlife: a ghost story”, subtle clues begin to suggest what the author has in store. The program lists the cast in alphabetical order rather than in order of appearance, and only two have been given names. The sounds of the ocean are audible before any of the actors make their appearance, establishing the omnipresence of the sea which precedes and ultimately endures beyond them. The seemingly welcoming beach house awaits the return of its owners, but something isn’t quite as it should be, as it contains several picture frames from which photos have been removed. The audience is presented with such subliminal stimuli as though discomfort is intended, which indeed it is. The sense of impending crisis, existential dread, even inexorable doom, is palpable. Then there’s that titillating title.
Suddenly a young couple enters the house, and from their first words it becomes apparent that they’re only superficially communicating. Danielle (Marianna Bassham) is visibly distraught and distracted, while Connor (Thomas Piper) is unnaturally chipper. Something has definitely happened. Gradually, as though peeling back an onion of layers of repression, the author reveals what that something was, and the antithetical responses of each to their shared tragedy. It also becomes clear that, while each is grieving the same loss, their process of survival could not be more different. Clearer still is the undeniable reality that, as close as two people may be, each must necessarily make the voyage through the process of grieving alone. As the first act ends, it’s apparent that we still lack sufficient information to grasp what these two protagonists are feeling, but not to worry, just let it all wash over you.
If the first act evokes memories of Albee’s “A Delicate Balance”, the next act is reminiscent of the second act of Wilder’s “The Skin of Our Teeth”, as well as Carroll’s “Alice in Wonderland”. As it begins, we swiftly realize that, as Dorothy said to Toto, “We’re not in Kansas anymore”. We are presented with a third protagonist, identified as Young Man (Karl Baker Olson) and a menagerie of supporting players, including the proprietress of a bizarre tea house (Adrianne Krstansky), a seamstress who would be at home in “Great Expectations” (Georgia Lyman), and a brusque postman (Dale Place, who also plays another role that is supporting in more than one sense). Each will have their individual parts to play in easing the main characters through their process of grieving.
As amazingly directed by New Rep Artistic Director Kate Warner, this cast is flawless. They are aided and abetted by the incredibly pitch perfect sound design by David Remedios which is calibrated to every nuance in Yockey’s text. Kudos are also due to the lighting design by Karen Parsons, scenic design by Cristina Todesco, costume design by Frances Nelson McSherry, and puppet design by Pandora Andrea Gastelum. (No, that’s not a typo, there is puppetry afoot as well). The most amazing accomplishment of the production is that all these technical efforts combine seamlessly to produce a theatrical environment that would convert the most devout agnostic. What results is part profound tragedy and part divine comedy. Youthful theatergoers who have not yet experienced unfathomable loss may not identify with all that transpires by play’s end.
Truth to tell, the play doesn’t really end, and that’s as it should be, one suspects, in the afterlife. There are three distinct resolutions, one for each of the protagonists. In one case, endless anticipation and false hope are given closure when the character, Young Man, is no longer able to search for written communication. In another, Connor finds he must let go of all his remaining baggage to find true relief. Lastly, Danielle must surrender to the inevitable memory loss that she has sought in order to move beyond her pain and reestablish order. In the strictest dramatic sense, there is no end to the play, but a sense of perpetual denouement.
This may well be the best production New Rep has done in recent memory, due in large part to Yockey’s brilliant poetic new play. One feels like echoing Oliver Twist: “Please, sir, may we have some…more?”
A different kind of ghost story..
New Rep begins 2011 with a premiere of a new play, afterlife: a ghost story. In the first act we meet a couple, Danielle and Connor, who have just returned to their beachfront property to prepare the house for an impending storm. We slowly learn that their 3 year old son got lost in the ocean and is presumed dead. The premise reminded of the play Rabbit Hole, but that may have been due to the fact that I saw the movie last week. Getting back to Danielle, she has not yet accepted that her son is dead – she still sees him and hears him. Her husband, while still grieving, comes to accept the loss of his son. The first act ends as the storm finally arrives taking everything in its path.
The second act brings us to the afterlife of the three characters (we meet the son now, although a bit older). The act incorporates ideas of the afterlife from various traditions. Many questions are raised in the second act and you can tell that the playwright is trying to address deeper issues, although it is sometimes confusing. The character that brings some levity to the second act is The Proprietress (Adrianne Krstansky) who is a personification of the ocean. Danielle stumbles upon this place and is invited in by the Proprietress to a sort of tea ceremony. It is here where Danielle is finally able to come to terms with all that has transpired. We meet a few other characters that are there to help on this journey. The play ends with many questions unanswered. I felt the play to be somewhat uneven and while the second act seems like a logical place to start after what happens right before intermission, it is rather jarring and feels disjointed – this may have simply been the author’s intent.
Kate Warner assembles a solid cast including Marianna Bassham as Danielle. From the moment she appears on stage you can feel her unease and anguish. She is able to convey emotion to the audience that serves to draw them in. Thomas Piper is great as the husband trying to deal with the loss as best as he can. In the second act, Adrianne Krstansky provides a great performance delivering some of the best lines in the show. She also incorporates great background action making you want to occasionally glance at what she is doing. I would be remiss if I did not mention the sound designer, David Remedios’ work. In the first act the audience is constantly aware of the ocean and the impending storm – in some shows the sound will be there at the beginning of the act but then fade away; however, in this work it is so central that you always are aware of it in the background. Also, kudos to the entire technical team for the theatrics at the end of the first act, the whole effect was very effective and well done in New Rep’s space.
-Frank Furnari
The Storm of "afterlife"; or Learning to Release
New Rep’s latest production starts slowly, but don’t be fooled: great emotion is in store. The play explores grief, release, and that immortal question, what happens after we die? Playwright Steve Yockey’s answer, borrowing lightly from several religious traditions, winds its way to a theory of letting go. The production is strong; the direction, sound, and set design meet New Rep’s high standards. The script needs further development, but presents a fresh and thoughtful bout of wrestling with important concepts.
The first act takes the audience inside the anguish of two parents who have just lost their young son. The actors are appropriately fragile and distant, especially from each other. Marianna Bassham as Danielle gives a heart-rending performance of a woman slowly unraveling. Thomas Piper, as her husband Connor, is exactly right as a too-cheerful, soldier-through guy trying desperately to find control after a terrible tragedy. The two characters are diametrically opposed in their methods of dealing with grief, and thus they are each working through it alone, sadly – but realistically. The first half of the first act is slow, but action and tension build with the imminent storm.
The storm breaks, both literally and metaphorically, over Danielle and Connor’s heads. From this moment until the end feels like a different play entirely – and a better one. The different coping mechanisms the two characters display in Act I set the stage for their “afterlife” challenges. We enter a purgatory of sorts, reminiscent of Dante, with Eastern religion overtones, where each character (now including the dead son) must confront a vital truth before their soul can move on. All must accept the loss of life and release false hopes of reunification – yet each tackles this in a wholly disparate way.
The second act introduces strange, enchanting characters. Dale Place deserves special mention for his skillful puppetry as the Black Bird; with only one wing and a head, he creates a startling and delightful illusion of avian motion. Georgia Lyman as the Seamstress is haunting and disturbing (which is her mandate), and Adrianne Krstansky as The Proprietress mixes exasperation with humor, providing some of the best laughs of the play. This second act – or really, second play – is rich, thought-provoking, and worth waiting for.
We wish the play had moved to its central questions more efficiently. The playwright spends too much time in Act I making us guess the nature of the tragedy racking these two; it seems a bit gimmicky and unnecessary. What is tedious in real life needn’t seem so on the stage. (Also, the timing of the oft-referenced storm is odd; at moments it’s about to break, and then suddenly the threat recedes; this happens several times.) The end of the first act is emotionally shattering, even terrifying, as the audience experiences the power of the storm. The play would be stronger if we reached that critical moment in half the time, the intermission was eliminated, and the transformation to the afterlife followed immediately. Still, the production is well worth the trip to Watertown.
-- Shauna Shames & Johanna Ettin
The first act takes the audience inside the anguish of two parents who have just lost their young son. The actors are appropriately fragile and distant, especially from each other. Marianna Bassham as Danielle gives a heart-rending performance of a woman slowly unraveling. Thomas Piper, as her husband Connor, is exactly right as a too-cheerful, soldier-through guy trying desperately to find control after a terrible tragedy. The two characters are diametrically opposed in their methods of dealing with grief, and thus they are each working through it alone, sadly – but realistically. The first half of the first act is slow, but action and tension build with the imminent storm.
The storm breaks, both literally and metaphorically, over Danielle and Connor’s heads. From this moment until the end feels like a different play entirely – and a better one. The different coping mechanisms the two characters display in Act I set the stage for their “afterlife” challenges. We enter a purgatory of sorts, reminiscent of Dante, with Eastern religion overtones, where each character (now including the dead son) must confront a vital truth before their soul can move on. All must accept the loss of life and release false hopes of reunification – yet each tackles this in a wholly disparate way.
The second act introduces strange, enchanting characters. Dale Place deserves special mention for his skillful puppetry as the Black Bird; with only one wing and a head, he creates a startling and delightful illusion of avian motion. Georgia Lyman as the Seamstress is haunting and disturbing (which is her mandate), and Adrianne Krstansky as The Proprietress mixes exasperation with humor, providing some of the best laughs of the play. This second act – or really, second play – is rich, thought-provoking, and worth waiting for.
We wish the play had moved to its central questions more efficiently. The playwright spends too much time in Act I making us guess the nature of the tragedy racking these two; it seems a bit gimmicky and unnecessary. What is tedious in real life needn’t seem so on the stage. (Also, the timing of the oft-referenced storm is odd; at moments it’s about to break, and then suddenly the threat recedes; this happens several times.) The end of the first act is emotionally shattering, even terrifying, as the audience experiences the power of the storm. The play would be stronger if we reached that critical moment in half the time, the intermission was eliminated, and the transformation to the afterlife followed immediately. Still, the production is well worth the trip to Watertown.
-- Shauna Shames & Johanna Ettin
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Sound designing afterlife: a ghost story
My involvement with “afterlife: a ghost story” began when Kate Warner invited me to attend an informal reading of it in the Fall of 2009. I am happy that she invited me to join her on this production, and am excited to incorporate my own ideas with Steve Yockey’s specific stage directions. The challenge is how to realize the effects and soundscapes in the script, and my presence in rehearsals has helped me make choices alongside Kate’s and the actors’ work.
Without giving too much away, the ocean is a strong presence in the story, and its changing mood has to be conveyed over the course of the first act. I have assembled a palette of ocean sounds to select and have begun to make selections in rehearsal. Loudspeaker zones above and behind the audience, as well as onstage specials and the fixed main speakers will give me flexibility to move and isolate sounds in different parts of the space, giving depth and texture to an “oceanic vocabulary.”
The second act introduces other characters whose individual worlds I will help to convey with sound. Cristina Todesco’s scenic design has been invaluable to me I try to aurally represent the physical environments she has created.
Sound will be a constant voice in this production, so working with the actors has been helpful as I create sounds that both support them and serve a narrative function alongside them. At this point, I have established a framework of specific sounds and events, and will spend the next few days creating cues from the ideas I’ve developed in rehearsals. By the time we reach technical rehearsals later this week, I will have a selection of pre-built cues and individual sonic elements to mix in the theatre space.
I hope the New Rep audience enjoys our efforts, and that the production provokes much discussion!
David Remedios
afterlife: a ghost story Sound Desginer
Without giving too much away, the ocean is a strong presence in the story, and its changing mood has to be conveyed over the course of the first act. I have assembled a palette of ocean sounds to select and have begun to make selections in rehearsal. Loudspeaker zones above and behind the audience, as well as onstage specials and the fixed main speakers will give me flexibility to move and isolate sounds in different parts of the space, giving depth and texture to an “oceanic vocabulary.”
The second act introduces other characters whose individual worlds I will help to convey with sound. Cristina Todesco’s scenic design has been invaluable to me I try to aurally represent the physical environments she has created.
Sound will be a constant voice in this production, so working with the actors has been helpful as I create sounds that both support them and serve a narrative function alongside them. At this point, I have established a framework of specific sounds and events, and will spend the next few days creating cues from the ideas I’ve developed in rehearsals. By the time we reach technical rehearsals later this week, I will have a selection of pre-built cues and individual sonic elements to mix in the theatre space.
I hope the New Rep audience enjoys our efforts, and that the production provokes much discussion!
David Remedios
afterlife: a ghost story Sound Desginer
Tuesday, January 04, 2011
afterlife: a ghost story Notes on the Production
The cast and crew of afterlife: a ghost story are hard at work putting togehter this National New Play Network Rolling World premiere. New Rep is the second theatre out of three theaters to put this new production on the stage in the 2010-2011 Season. The show runs from January 16 - February 6, 2011 in the Charles Mosesian Theater at the Arseanl Center for the Arts. To enhance your theatrical experience we have posted the production notes for afterlife: a ghost story below in order to allow you to read them before you see the show!
THE AFTERLIFE THROUGH HISTORY AND CULTURE
The afterlife has always been a mystery. All cultures have their own theories as to what happens after death, though none have been able to come up with a definitive answer.
Ancient Egyptians believed that once a person reached the underworld, she had to plead her innocence and declare her good deeds according to the Book of the Dead. Afterwards, her heart was weighed against a feather. If the heart was heavier than the feather, the soul was destroyed, but if the heart was lighter than the feather, it was allowed to enter Skeet Aura, the equivalent of heaven.1
The Greeks believed that the soul journeyed down into the underworld, where it crossed the river Styx and entered Hades, an afterlife that was neither heaven nor hell.2 In the myth of Persephone, a young girl is kidnapped to Hades, where she succumbs to eating food from the underworld and is trapped there eternally.
Hinduism teaches reincarnation, the philosophy that people repeatedly die and are reborn until their soul finally transcends the cycle. At the end of reincarnation, one achieves Moksha and is reunited with Krishna, the Hindus’ highest god.3
Buddhism also believes in rebirth; however, it is a person’s karma which determines into which body he or she is reborn.4 The worse your karma, the higher the odds you’ll be reborn as a dung beetle.
Christians believe that after death, a soul is judged and either sent to Heaven or Hell, depending on the deeds that one committed during life. Dante Alighieri created a detailed description of the Christian afterlife in his epic poem The Divine Comedy.
JAPANESE INFLUENCES
Noh Theater is an ancient Japanese form of theater, still popular and significant today, that focuses on emotion and the trials of the human heart. Originally created in the 14th century by Japanese actor and playwright Zeami Motokiyo, Noh Theater portrays its subjects through dance, poetry, and music. Zeami wrote many of the original Noh plays and a treatise about Noh techniques, that are still studied and performed by Noh actors today.5 Noh plays are divided into five categories: God plays, warrior plays, woman plays, realistic plays, and demon plays.6 The play itself is then divided into three musical sections: the jo (introduction), the ha (development), and the kyu (climax).7 The three standard roles in Noh Theater are shite (protagonist), waki (secondary actor), and tsure (companion).8 Noh is very visually distinct, with a specific stage and costumes necessary to create the production.
Noh Theater was revolutionary in its theatrical conventions and its bending of time and space. This flexibility and imagination is compatible with Yockey’s handling of the unknown physics of the afterlife. Noh Theater encourages willful suspension of disbelief and uses this suspension to its advantage. The stylized poetic and musical quality of Noh Theater is also very influential to Yockey as an author. The poetry of the second act of afterlife: a ghost story evokes strong emotions associated with loss, just as the poetry of Noh accentuates emotion with dance and music.
Japanese puppet theatre, or Bunraku, is known for its precision and beauty. Influenced by traveling storytellers and puppeteers, Bunraku was officially created in 1684 by Gidayu Takemoto, who opened the first puppet theater.9 In Bunraku, three puppeteers operate one puppet. The ashi-zukai puppeteer operates the feet and legs, omo-zukai operates the right hand and head, and hidari-zukai operates the left hand.10 The puppeteers are visible on stage, yet do not speak; a single narrator creates all the voices of the play. The puppets, which are incredibly realistic and detailed, possess movable eyes, mouths, limbs, and even eyebrows. A three-stringed shamisen creates accompanying music for the puppets and narrator.11 In 1984, the National Bunraku Theater was founded in Osaka, Japan in order to preserve this ancient and beautiful art form.12
The Japanese tea ceremony is an ancient ritual of hospitality. Originating as a Buddhist practice, the ceremony is still studied and performed today as an example of precision and beauty. Generally, guests must purify themselves before entering the tea house. “The tea ceremony captures all the essential elements of Japanese philosophy and artistic beauty, and interweaves four principals—harmony (with people in nature), respect (for others), purity (of heart and mind), and tranquility.”13 Yockey uses the tea house as a representation of the afterlife, in which the characters are purified of life.
PRODUCTION HISOTRY
The National New Play Network (NNPN) is a group of leading nonprofit theaters with a common desire to develop and support new plays. NNPN was originally founded by David Goldman and George C. White with the vision that new play development should be regionalized by uniting developmental theaters and their playwriting communities. Since its founding 1998, NNPN has commissioned over one dozen playwrights, provided paid residencies for MFA graduates, and sustained nearly 100 productions through its Continued Life of New Plays Fund. Over the past ten years, NNPN has given nearly half a million dollars to theaters and artists.14
Yockey found New Repertory Theatre through his work with artistic director Kate Warner during their time at Dad’s Garage Theatre in Atlanta, Georgia. In February 2010, New Rep presented afterlife: a ghost story as part of New Voices @ New Rep, a staged reading series dedicated to introducing New Rep’s audience to emerging playwrights, and bringing attention to new works by established writers. Through NNPN’s Continued Life of New Plays Fund, afterlife: a ghost story will receive a Rolling World Premiere, first presented at Southern Rep in New Orleans this past October, and moving on to Edgemar Theatre in Santa Monica, California this spring. New Repertory Theatre is pleased to join in the world premiere of Steve Yockey’s afterlife: a ghost story.
Endnotes
1 Lewis, James. “Afterlife Beliefs and Phenomena.” Near-Death Experiences and the Afterlife. 2010. < http://www.near-death.com/religion.html>.
2 Ibid.
3 Leaman, Oliver. Key Concepts in Eastern Philosophy. London: Routledge, 1999.
4 Ibid.
5 Binnie, Paul. “Japanese Noh Theater.” July 2001. Artelino Japanese Prints. 2001-2010.
6 Keene, Donald. Twenty Plays of the No Theatre. New York: Columbia University Press, 1970, xi.
7 Ibid, 13.
8 Ibid, 6.
9 “Bunraku.” May 2007. Osaka-Info: Osaka Tourist Guide.culture/2007may/04.html#>.
10 Ibid.
11 Ibid.
12 Ibid.
13 Pettigrew, Jane. The Tea Companion. New York: Macmillan, 1997, 12.
14 Loewith, Jason. 2010.
Bibliography
Binnie, Paul. “Japanese Noh Theater.” July 2001. Artelino Japanese Prints. 2001-2010.
“Bunraku.” May 2007. Osaka-Info: Osaka Tourist Guide..
Chopra, Deepak. Life After Death: The Burden of Proof. New York: Harmony Books, 2006.
Johnson, Matthew. “A Brief Introduction to the History of Bunraku.” August 14, 1995. The Puppetry Home Page..
Keene, Donald. Twenty Plays of the No Theatre. New York: Columbia University Press, 1970.
Leaman, Oliver. Key Concepts in Eastern Philosophy. London: Routledge, 1999.
Lewis, James. “Afterlife Beliefs and Phenomena.” Near-Death Experiences and the Afterlife. 2010.
Loewith, Jason. About NNPN: Overview. 2010.
“Noh Drama.” Contemporary Japan: A Teaching Workbook..
“Noh Drama and Kabuki.” May 2007. Osaka-Info: Osaka Tourist Guide..
Pettigrew, Jane. The Tea Companion. New York: Macmillan, 1997.
Verwoerd, Leo. “Moon of Pure Snow at Asano River.” Yoshitoshi. 2008-2010..
Wiencek, Henry. The Lords of Japan. Chicago: Stonehenge, 1982.
“Yoshitoshi’s One Hundred Aspects of the Moon.” Carolyn Staley: Fine Japanese Prints. 2008..
Photo Credits (top to bottom):
http://e-ducation.net/aestheticians.html
http://www.flickr.com/photos/77673826@N00/2433366559
THE AFTERLIFE THROUGH HISTORY AND CULTURE
The afterlife has always been a mystery. All cultures have their own theories as to what happens after death, though none have been able to come up with a definitive answer.
Ancient Egyptians believed that once a person reached the underworld, she had to plead her innocence and declare her good deeds according to the Book of the Dead. Afterwards, her heart was weighed against a feather. If the heart was heavier than the feather, the soul was destroyed, but if the heart was lighter than the feather, it was allowed to enter Skeet Aura, the equivalent of heaven.1
The Greeks believed that the soul journeyed down into the underworld, where it crossed the river Styx and entered Hades, an afterlife that was neither heaven nor hell.2 In the myth of Persephone, a young girl is kidnapped to Hades, where she succumbs to eating food from the underworld and is trapped there eternally.
Hinduism teaches reincarnation, the philosophy that people repeatedly die and are reborn until their soul finally transcends the cycle. At the end of reincarnation, one achieves Moksha and is reunited with Krishna, the Hindus’ highest god.3
Buddhism also believes in rebirth; however, it is a person’s karma which determines into which body he or she is reborn.4 The worse your karma, the higher the odds you’ll be reborn as a dung beetle.
Christians believe that after death, a soul is judged and either sent to Heaven or Hell, depending on the deeds that one committed during life. Dante Alighieri created a detailed description of the Christian afterlife in his epic poem The Divine Comedy.
JAPANESE INFLUENCES
Noh Theater was revolutionary in its theatrical conventions and its bending of time and space. This flexibility and imagination is compatible with Yockey’s handling of the unknown physics of the afterlife. Noh Theater encourages willful suspension of disbelief and uses this suspension to its advantage. The stylized poetic and musical quality of Noh Theater is also very influential to Yockey as an author. The poetry of the second act of afterlife: a ghost story evokes strong emotions associated with loss, just as the poetry of Noh accentuates emotion with dance and music.
The Japanese tea ceremony is an ancient ritual of hospitality. Originating as a Buddhist practice, the ceremony is still studied and performed today as an example of precision and beauty. Generally, guests must purify themselves before entering the tea house. “The tea ceremony captures all the essential elements of Japanese philosophy and artistic beauty, and interweaves four principals—harmony (with people in nature), respect (for others), purity (of heart and mind), and tranquility.”13 Yockey uses the tea house as a representation of the afterlife, in which the characters are purified of life.
PRODUCTION HISOTRY
The National New Play Network (NNPN) is a group of leading nonprofit theaters with a common desire to develop and support new plays. NNPN was originally founded by David Goldman and George C. White with the vision that new play development should be regionalized by uniting developmental theaters and their playwriting communities. Since its founding 1998, NNPN has commissioned over one dozen playwrights, provided paid residencies for MFA graduates, and sustained nearly 100 productions through its Continued Life of New Plays Fund. Over the past ten years, NNPN has given nearly half a million dollars to theaters and artists.14
Yockey found New Repertory Theatre through his work with artistic director Kate Warner during their time at Dad’s Garage Theatre in Atlanta, Georgia. In February 2010, New Rep presented afterlife: a ghost story as part of New Voices @ New Rep, a staged reading series dedicated to introducing New Rep’s audience to emerging playwrights, and bringing attention to new works by established writers. Through NNPN’s Continued Life of New Plays Fund, afterlife: a ghost story will receive a Rolling World Premiere, first presented at Southern Rep in New Orleans this past October, and moving on to Edgemar Theatre in Santa Monica, California this spring. New Repertory Theatre is pleased to join in the world premiere of Steve Yockey’s afterlife: a ghost story.
Endnotes
1 Lewis, James. “Afterlife Beliefs and Phenomena.” Near-Death Experiences and the Afterlife. 2010. < http://www.near-death.com/religion.html>.
2 Ibid.
3 Leaman, Oliver. Key Concepts in Eastern Philosophy. London: Routledge, 1999.
4 Ibid.
5 Binnie, Paul. “Japanese Noh Theater.” July 2001. Artelino Japanese Prints. 2001-2010.
6 Keene, Donald. Twenty Plays of the No Theatre. New York: Columbia University Press, 1970, xi.
7 Ibid, 13.
8 Ibid, 6.
9 “Bunraku.” May 2007. Osaka-Info: Osaka Tourist Guide.culture/2007may/04.html#>.
10 Ibid.
11 Ibid.
12 Ibid.
13 Pettigrew, Jane. The Tea Companion. New York: Macmillan, 1997, 12.
14 Loewith, Jason. 2010
Bibliography
Binnie, Paul. “Japanese Noh Theater.” July 2001. Artelino Japanese Prints. 2001-2010
“Bunraku.” May 2007. Osaka-Info: Osaka Tourist Guide.
Chopra, Deepak. Life After Death: The Burden of Proof. New York: Harmony Books, 2006.
Johnson, Matthew. “A Brief Introduction to the History of Bunraku.” August 14, 1995. The Puppetry Home Page.
Keene, Donald. Twenty Plays of the No Theatre. New York: Columbia University Press, 1970.
Leaman, Oliver. Key Concepts in Eastern Philosophy. London: Routledge, 1999.
Lewis, James. “Afterlife Beliefs and Phenomena.” Near-Death Experiences and the Afterlife. 2010.
Loewith, Jason. About NNPN: Overview. 2010
“Noh Drama.” Contemporary Japan: A Teaching Workbook.
“Noh Drama and Kabuki.” May 2007. Osaka-Info: Osaka Tourist Guide.
Pettigrew, Jane. The Tea Companion. New York: Macmillan, 1997.
Verwoerd, Leo. “Moon of Pure Snow at Asano River.” Yoshitoshi. 2008-2010.
Wiencek, Henry. The Lords of Japan. Chicago: Stonehenge, 1982.
“Yoshitoshi’s One Hundred Aspects of the Moon.” Carolyn Staley: Fine Japanese Prints. 2008.
Photo Credits (top to bottom):
http://e-ducation.net/aestheticians.html
http://www.flickr.com/photos/77673826@N00/2433366559
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