The Power of Theater

Sometimes It IS Noble

The Prof, in a response to a post about Art and Commerce over at 99 Seats, writes this:

I am growing increasingly uncomfortable with the fact that we have made the arts a commodity -- a "product" that is "sold." I don't think it's working for us anymore. I think it has turned us into the minor leagues for the movies.

I think what needs to happen is a change in the relationship between the artist and society, one that would make the arts more of a gift than a commodity.

I agree that the Theater as Widget, a thing to be bought and sold, is a broken model. In an economic downturn like the one we're experiencing live theater simply cannot afford to be so money driven. Likewise, I find it a bit incongruous that artists who create a thing that must be experienced first-hand and then, like smoke or masterpieces in the sand, disappear, strive so hard to create a sense of permanent security surrounding the creation and performance of that thing.

While derided by many, I still maintain that there isn't anything intrinsically "noble" about theater - a bunch of organ grinder monkeys and freaks dancing on display for the peanuts and two-bits of a passing audience is not noble in almost any way.

Once in a while (and probably more often than any of us realize) theater can stretch out it's whithered, aging hand and grasp nobility by the tail and shake it up some:

Magdi has spent 15 years on death row, waiting for his execution in an airless, overcrowded prison cell.

The jail where his life is supposed to end is wrapped in miles of barbed wire, surrounded by checkpoints and perched on top of the mountain that overlooks the Mediterranean.

Roumieh Prison is Lebanon' s biggest high-security jail, notorious for bloody riots and terrible conditions, and home to some of the country's most dangerous criminals.

But Magdi, a thin, greying man, says he never committed the murder he was charged with, and that the trial that put him on death row was rushed and unfair.

Over the years, he says, he has written countless letters to the authorities begging them to review his case, but he never received a reply.

Then one February afternoon in 2009, he suddenly had a chance to tell his story face to face, to some of the country's most senior officials.

"I was so nervous," Magdi recalls. "Just imagine - the prosecutor general, the minister of the interior, high ranking generals - they were all right here."

Magdi, along with his fellow inmates, was on the stage while the officials were the guests of honour at the opening of the Twelve Angry Lebanese, a theatre play of a kind the Arab world has never seen before.

Role reversal

For two hours, seated just inches away from the improvised stage, the representatives of Lebanon's government listened as inmates questioned the country's judicial system, talked about prison conditions and told personal tales through their adaptation of Twelve Angry Men, a play by Reginald Rose in which a jury of 12 men meets to decide the fate of a boy who is accused of murder.

The performance was, the prisoners recall, a mind-boggling role reversal.

HAT TIP to Fuzzy for bringing this to my attention.

For an explanation from the director, go here.

This is truly giving. This is honorable and noble and fantastic.

There are those (straw men, one and all) who will say that this is the kind of thing our Foundation Grants are for. That this is why so many grants are presented to theater companies that specialize in children's education and prison work and work with the underprivileged. Unfortunately this is not what most of those grants are used for - at least not in America.

In America the money granted for something more social work-y is often used to pay for administrative salaries and venues. With 2.3 million American citizens in prison, I'd say that NEA dough might be better served with programs like this than another fucking performance of Romeo and Juliet for sixth graders.