Playgoing: Dialectical Reasoning and Real Magic

Seeing plays in a different language leads to a sort of posturing on our part about what we actually took away from the experience. The posturing is easily explained, growing up in an Archival society we learn through language and the written word. The counter argument of learning the play underneath the play through the actor’s gesture or body is largely suppositional.  One could also argue that all of the technical elements of the piece lead us to an understanding, and in part that’s true. Yet it would be arrogant on our part to assume that the understanding suggested by the physical elements is as deep as the understanding we’d have through witnessing the piece in a familiar language. 

In the case of Beware of Pity, supposing the piece was presented to us without any language, the actor’s merely using their body’s, I’d be surprised if anyone would come away from that experience knowing “There is no wickedness, only weakness” or “As long as your conscience exists, your guilt will too”. Language is comprised of symbols, feelings, etc. just as if it were a body. This is why there’s often multiple interpretations of a single word. Axiom’s are rare, and so is our understanding of even the most basic principles of human life. 

If we were from a culture that was largely educated through Repertoire(academic jargon for learning through the body), this might not be the case. The times where gesture has lead to a somewhat deeper understanding, for me at least, has been when the play has implemented film techniques. The close-ups allow for a more personal experience, and the actor’s face gives away more clues as to what’s happening in the moment of the play as well as what’s happening underneath that moment. Though I’m somewhat skeptical of even giving myself that much credit. There’s too many variables unaccounted for. A deep understanding of the nuances of plays is not picked up from one reading, much less one viewing. If it were, the fun of making or experiencing a play wouldn’t exist. There would be no mystery. 

Real Magic is the only play we’ve experienced that has no distillation of language. There was no German, and there were no subsequent translations of German into English. Whether or not anyone liked or disliked what that piece was doing is unimportant. There’s something to be said about what they were doing besides repetition. Repetition in theater at that caliber is rarely arbitrary. It’s there for a purpose, and plenty of other playwrights have understood this. Whether or not you want to theorize that it’s there to exemplify the circuitous nature of language, or the fact that we often find ourselves saying the same things but expressing it in different ways, are all valid opinions. Particularly when we see three actors suffer the endless cycle of not being able to offer the answer that they’re all desperately looking for. In that one gesture of cyclic language there’s a multitude of metaphors to draw from. 

I would go as far as to say that in terms of performance, Real Magic was the most impressive one we’ve seen. Each cycle of interviews between the actor’s was not only grounded in the moment, but was different and explorative. This is no easy feat, especially when you consider that they performed for nearly an hour and a half. None of this is to argue for anyone to have a different experience of a piece of theater, but merely to find a shred of deeper understanding in terms of what all this playgoing means.