Abstract
In the previous chapter, I discussed performances by Ping Chong that link slide presentation, as an early information technology, to identity formation. Twenty years later, in 2006, Forced Entertainment’s The World in Pictures contains its own set-piece slide-show. Jerry Killick, still wearing his caveman wig from an early phase of the show, clicks on a laptop that emits electronic quacks, keytones not unlike those emitted when performer-technicians in The Wooster Group’s House/Lights (the first version of which was produced in 1997) clicked on their laptops. Both Kind Ness and The World in Pictures embark on an anthropological, historical narrative to undermine it. While the unseen, loudspeaker Narrator in Kind Ness has a cool, scientific detachment, Jerry speaks to his images with pathos in a long aside, or hiatus, in a show full of long asides, breakdowns in which meaning is broken down. Jerry’s slide-show, like his long set-up at the start and reflection at the end of The World in Pictures, has a veneer of sharing, of communality. He thoughtfully suggests, viewing a picture of a pair of shoes: ‘here is a gift you might have bought’. A snow-covered, anonymous perspective view of a road is accompanied by the speculation that ‘here is a street you might have walked down’. Later in the sequence, Jerry seems to struggle, several images bringing the commentary, ‘I don’t know’.
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Notes
In Chong’s Nosferatu: A Symphony of Darkness (1985), a plague-like atrophy insinuates the apartment of suburbanites Nina and Jonathan. The stage darkens and a series of hieroglyphs are projected on a screen in the form of equations: [shoes] + [axe] = [paper]… [airplane] + [fish] = [lantern]. Along with the yuppies, we are left to decode as Chong depicts the attempts of a spiritually plagued society to scrabble for meaning via the machinic manipulation of signs.
Pirandello’s Six Characters (1921) appear to confront the theatre company attempting, in lacklustre fashion, to bring them to life.
The Stage Manager’s demonstrative framing of the actions of the residents of Graver’s Corners in Our Town (1938) conspicuously breaks the fourth wall, reflecting Wilder’s view that the theatre of the time was ‘inadequate’ and ‘evasive’. In Tango Palace (1963), Fornes’s darkly witty, role-playing allegory, ‘androgynous clown’ Isidore teaches culture to ‘earnest youth’ Leopold, Isidore flipping cards on the floor after delivering each item of text written on the cards. I am grateful to Steve Bottoms for his insights on ironic demonstration in American drama; and to various people for their take on the old stereotype that Americans don’t get irony. Some insist that the situation is now reversed, and that Americans show Brits ‘the way’; some suggest that there are only regional ironies (Liverpool irony or New York irony), or that Americans only get irony when it is in theatre, or in the paratheatre of groups like Billionaires for Bush.
Ideas of hybridity are intricately applied and interrogated in José Esteban Muñoz’s Disidentifications: Queers of Color and the Performance of Politics (1999).
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© 2009 James Frieze
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Frieze, J. (2009). Demonstration: Illustrative Irony. In: Naming Theatre. Performance Interventions. Palgrave Macmillan, London. https://doi.org/10.1057/9780230245709_4
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DOI: https://doi.org/10.1057/9780230245709_4
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