Why do we feel compelled to give notes when we see a play? (Or read a book, for that matter?) There’s nothing wrong with being perceptive and analytical and sharing our discoveries and thoughts with others, but I find that many people are so quick to offer their notes, they fail to enjoy the work--or at least fail to help others enjoy the work, too.
Last night, I saw a hysterical play at the Midtown International Theater Festival here in New York--ASSHOLES AND AUREOLES by Eric Pfeffinger. The title says it all--this will probably be an outrageous play. Keep your distance if you’re easily offended. I found it to be hilarious and brilliant. It consisted of 8 scenes, or vignettes. Each of them was filled with surprises, outrageous situations, and clever dialogue. The two actresses were beyond brilliant--as talented as anyone on Saturday Night Live, a show that shares some similarities with this play.
As I followed two men out of the theater--both of whom seemed buoyed by the play--I couldn’t help listening in on their conversation. I didn’t hear, “That was great!” “How funny!” “Very clever.” Or anything of the sort. Instead I heard, “Boy the last two scenes weren’t as strong as the rest. That middle scene certainly needs to be cut.” And so on.
I’m not saying these observations were off the mark. I’m just wondering why these are the first thoughts out of their mouthes. Why can’t they take a moment to savor the experience--to tell each other what they liked about it. Then rip it apart, for all I care!
Just a thought from a playwright who goes to the theater to enjoy the wonder of live theater and not to hand out grades. At least not in the first 30 seconds after the curtain falls.
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