Session Five: Week 9

Friday

Written by Kyle

Today was my first session back after having been out of town. The ensemble members were all quick to ask about the trip, eager to hear about what I had done, and just about everyone welcomed me back.

After a warm-up and some theatre games, the group had a discussion about where we thought we might set our production of Othello. We wanted to get an idea of what was on their minds so we could take advantage of the post-Halloween sales and get some costumes if at all possible. The discussion was slow to start but, like most discussions with our group, became involved and impassioned once we got going. The conversation at first was focused on the possibilities prompted by the question: what could be? Everything from cavemen, Scotland, in a prison, disco and outer space were suggested, and we were having fun linking Othello’s characters into a Star Wars parody.

Then the conversation evolved into more about what should be? What is the story that we are trying to tell? What is a better demonstration of Shakespeare’s timelessness: our ability to set his text in any time period, or the ability of the audience to relate to an Elizabethan text set in the period assigned by Shakespeare? It’s a toss up, and certainly a conversation that the professional theatre has had for years. I noted that keeping it in period can be difficult to source authentic looking costumes and props; whereas updating can be difficult because things like sword fighting and monarchies have a difficult translation in a more modern era.

However, a gauntlet was thrown early, with one of the newer ensemble members stating very directly that she thought that updating the setting “took the focus off the story… [keeping it as is] simplifies the message and we shouldn’t mess with it.” Many agreed, and it seemed like it was almost unanimous. I brought up that we could make our own world and set it in the world of ‘our play,’ and not set it anywhere specific. We could make up our own world, or keep it nondescript.

Many found this interesting, although we didn’t discuss it too long before moving on to the last stage of any conceptual consideration: what can we realistically do? It was kind of amazing the shape that the discussion took. Very similar to how I would approach it myself with any other production I’ve directed. The point was raised that we should think about who our audience was going to be and what would be the most effective for them; furthermore, consideration should be given to what would most likely be approved to by the facility’s administration. All these were valid concerns and foundational to the creation of a conceptual framework for our piece.

I concluded by saying that no decision needed to be made right then and there, that we needed to decide what story we wanted to tell before we could really decide just how it would be told. I am always impressed, though, by how deliberately the group wrestles with the questions of what makes art, and just how in step the ensemble is with my own process.

We only read one scene tonight, Act IV Scene ii; granted, it is longer scene, but it prompted such a rich debate that we couldn’t move on. Although Othello’s words towards Desdemona were powerful, the first discussion centered on Emilia and whether she knows Iago’s plan or not. Why would she be complicit with his plan if she does? Why would she give him the handkerchief? What about Iago’s emotional manipulation of her? Many said they were married to or had been involved with a man like Iago, and that many of Iago’s lines were not very nice until she gave him the handkerchief, when he showered her with praise. This kind of deliberate withholding of praise and affection was a potent dynamic in many of the ensemble’s past relationships, and many said they could understand her wanting to make him happy despite it betraying her own values.

As usual, though, the conversation was clouded by the impending murder: was Othello insane at this point? Had he reached his breaking point? Had he turned a corner from which he could not return? The quote that stuck out to me was, “We didn’t get here by being saints. How many of us are here from a 10-second crime?” Is he going to be defined by that decision? Someone brought up that after Othello’s seizure, he had passed a point of no return. I asked what the last sane decision that we saw Othello make might be. One member responded that the promotion of Iago to his lieutenant was the last decision he made, and that every decision since has been made for him.

The same ensemble member refuted herself, though, and brought up that the murder is premeditated. He is thinking about it, talking about it, and going to do it. There is no way around the fact that he kills Desdemona, that he kills her intentionally, and that he’s guilty. This was a very resonant remark, and one that just about everyone in the ensemble seemed to weigh in on. Is he a bad person, then? Many said that it a show of remorse means that Othello is not a bad person; some said that one’s previous actions are not what define them, people can change, etc.

I asked if we could extend the same redemption to Iago. What was Iago’s breaking point? When did he stop making decisions? Can he change with the right intentions? One woman said that Iago was the person in the play with whom she identified most. “Maybe I’m more evil than everyone else here, but I used to do this kind of stuff.” She went on to say that she thought she could change and was working on it. We could have talked all night. We sped through the last little part of the scene just for the sake of finishing; I for one felt, and hope, that we are far from finished with the discussion.

Session Five: Week 8

Tuesday

Tonight we read and discussed Act III Scene IV, in which Desdemona and Emilia first witness the change in Othello, Cassio pleads with Desdemona, and Cassio gives the handkerchief he found to Bianca to copy.

As spectators, we cannot help but cringe as Desdemona unwittingly confirms the suspicions that Iago has planted in Othello’s mind. Why does she respond the way she does, by lying about having misplaced the handkerchief and continuing her quest to get Cassio’s job back? “If you haven’t done anything, you’re not even thinking about it,” said one woman. Why would she be anything but innocent at this point? She has no idea how loaded this handkerchief and the Cassio issue have become.

“She’s committed,” said another ensemble member. “She’s gone against her father, she’s gone with [Othello] to war… Once you’re so far in, you’re like, ‘I’ve put so much into it, I have to keep going.’”

There were audible reactions when we read Emilia’s comment after Othello’s exit:

‘Tis not a year or two shows us a man.

They are all but stomachs, and we all but food;

They eat us hungerly, and when they are full,

They belch us.

It’s a feeling with which many of us are familiar. “They use you, abuse you, and then lose you,” said one person.

We talked at length about Emilia’s culpability in what happens, abused wife or not. How much does she suspect about Iago’s plot? Many ensemble members concluded that it doesn’t matter how much she knows – she clearly feels remorse for stealing the handkerchief, and she witnesses that theft’s impact on Othello’s and Desdemona’s relationship, even if she knows nothing else. “This is exactly like Romeo and Juliet,” said a longtime ensemble member. “All of those people – she can make things right at any moment and doesn’t.”

Since the next scene is quite lengthy, we spent the remainder of our time on an improv game. Although we’ve talked about the idea that improv doesn’t have to be funny, and often can be very serious, we do tend toward being silly in our games – working with such heavy material as Othello, we need some lightness. The game was going well – we were having a lot of fun – when some subject matter came up that seemed innocuous to most but deeply upset one of the women who was on stage. “No,” she said, knowing well the rule of saying yes in improv, “I have to say no to this.” We stopped that part of the game, and as she staying on stage, I watched her closely to see if I needed to stop the exercise. She finished, and then began gathering her things. “Are you okay?” I asked quietly. “Yes,” she said, “But I have to leave now.” Two of her friends who are in the group gave me reassuring looks and escorted her out, leaving the rest of the group puzzled and concerned.

“What just happened?” asked one woman. “Something came up in the exercise that upset her,” said another.

“Yes,” I said, “And I think we can take a couple of things out of this. One is that, if one of us says ‘no’ on stage or stops an exercise, we stop it right there, no questions asked. The other is that we all agreed weeks ago that if someone is upset and needs to leave the room, that’s okay, and we will respect her by allowing her to talk about it if she wants to and not asking questions if she doesn’t.”

The group still seemed uneasy. This is the first time this has happened this session, so it’s new territory for most of us. “Are we okay?” I asked. They responded that, yes, they were okay, just confused. We were out of time at that point, so we lifted our ring together and left for the day.

It was not an ideal way to end a meeting, but this is likely the first, not the only, time that someone needs a breather from whatever it is we’re doing. I think the shock of what happened is due to its occurring during a very silly game when we weren’t expecting any triggers, while we are all expecting to be upset (but safe and taking care of each other) while working on our play. It’s an important lesson that just about anything can be a trigger – we don’t know all of the circumstances of each others’ lives – and we need to take care of each other as an ensemble at all times.

Friday

When the ensemble member who left early on Tuesday arrived, I asked if I could speak with her privately. She smiled and said yes. I asked her first how she was doing, and she said that she was okay, it’s just a sensitive time for her, and it took her by surprise that the game took such a turn. I asked her if there was anything that I or the group could have done to handle the situation better, and she said no, she didn’t feel uncomfortable with what happened at all. I reiterated what I had said to the group after she left so she would know that she was returning to a safe space. She seemed at ease with things.

After our warm up, another ensemble member asked if we should consider making some topics “off limits” in improv to spare people’s feelings. She mentioned the specific topic that upset the woman who left early on Tuesday. The group seemed not to know how to respond, so I first thanked her for the concern and sensitivity that led her to make the suggestion, and then said that my opinion is that we should not censor what we’re doing beyond complying with prison policy – that we are working with a play that brings up all sorts of things that may upset us, and that we need to feel secure in taking care of one another and maintaining a safe space. “I’m just worried that people will get so upset they won’t want to come back,” she said. “I appreciate that,” I replied, “But I think we handled things well last time, and I believe we’ll continue to handle them well going forward.” I asked the group whether they agreed or wanted to discuss further, and they were in agreement with me, so we moved on.

We took some time to play a goofy game – we needed to lighten up! This proved to be a significant relief, and we were all refreshed when we circled up to read through Act IV Scene I - a very ugly scene in which Iago further manipulates Othello to the point that he beats Desdemona in front of others. It’s upsetting material no matter what your life experiences have been, and many in our ensemble have experienced similar situations firsthand.

One ensemble member, her voice trembling, said, “I really dislike the way Shakespeare has taken this put-together, articulate, respected man – and then he’s so easily taken in.” We revisited this idea that we all have at least one major weakness, and this play upsets us because we know how fragile we all are – we all have the potential to become Othello.

Another woman cannot get over how easily things go for Iago at this point in the play. “Iago does have this planned out very well, but he doesn’t have to work for it – it all just falls into place.” We talked about the things that Iago plans, and the things that happen by chance, providing him opportunities to take advantage. This is maddening to us as well.

Why, when Othello says that he will poison Desdemona, does Iago push him to strangle her instead? “It’s more personal,” said one woman. You can disconnect from poisoning, she said, “But when you’re strangling someone, you have to look them in the eye.” Another woman said that this is Iago’s way of driving Othello completely over the edge – he doesn’t just want him to suffer, he wants to destroy him.

“What does he have against Desdemona?” asked one woman. Several of our ensemble members have a theory that Iago is gay – that he may not even be conscious of being gay, but that his attachment to Othello results in overpowering jealousy of Desdemona. Others agree that he is jealous of Desdemona, but think it’s more of a “power thing” – he says, “The general’s wife is now the general,” and some of us think that he can’t stand the idea that anyone has more sway over Othello than him – so Cassio and Desdemona have to go, too.

“Once you hit a certain level of rage, it’s uncontrollable. You want everyone to feel the hurt you feel,” said one ensemble member, talking about both Iago and Othello.

After we read the part of the scene when Othello beats Desdemona, a few women expressed surprise that none of the other men on stage intervene to protect her. We discussed how sometimes when people are shocked, they freeze; I also mentioned that there have been studies showing that people are less likely to take action if there are a number of people witnessing the same crime. We also discussed the fact that there’s not much stage direction from Shakespeare here – it’s possible that we could stage this so that people do intervene.

Once we had read the whole scene, our discussion took an even more personal tone, as we brought our experiences to bear on our interpretation of this story. We find the play so terribly tragic because it rings so true.

“This play makes me not want to trust anyone,” said one person. “It makes me want to be celibate,” said another. “No,” said another woman, “Every relationship needs good communication. Othello never talks to Desdemona or Cassio about any of this.”

Does Othello have PTSD, we wondered? Is this the trauma that breaks him? “Every other area of your life can be going smoothly, and one little thing drives you crazy,” said one woman.

This, said another ensemble member, is how men are. “They hold themselves together so well when they think they’re in control, but when they lose control they’re a mess.” The ensemble responded strongly that this is not specific to men – “it’s a people thing.”

We all have the potential to be any of these characters, and as we progress further into the story, that is hitting home more and more. Our discussions get deeper and deeper. “I get why they [prison staff] want us to take this class,” remarked one woman, “I keep seeing myself in this play. I’m learning so much.”

Session Five: Week 7

Tuesday

We began reading and discussing Act III tonight with such gusto that we actually never stopped to play a game!

As we read, we pondered why Cassio doesn’t just listen to Emilia and Desdemona when they tell him that Othello is going to bring him back into his job – that he has to keep a “politic difference” because of Montano’s status, but not to fear anything long term. They tell him this repeatedly, but he makes a choice to continue to trust Iago, who does not give him information directly from their boss. The ensemble explored not only the relationship between the men – the trust forged in battle – but Cassio’s agony over his mistake, his lack of sleep, and the possibility that he is still drunk or hungover from the night before. All of these things may cloud his ability to make the right decision.

We also talked more about Iago – he’s got Cassio’s job now, and yet he keeps going. One woman said that once your pride is hurt badly enough, there is nothing that can quench your thirst for revenge – that he feels he has the moral high ground, and what happens is everyone else’s fault. “He’s got a victim mentality,” she said. “The more justified you feel, the angrier you get,” said another woman.

“He was passed up for a position he deserved, and it’s okay to be angry about it,” said a longtime ensemble member. “But he takes it too far,” said another. The first person replied, “I don’t know if he meant it to go this far – if he meant for someone to die.” Another said, “It doesn’t matter – every choice leads to something. All the choices we made led us here.”

We decided to table the discussion till we’ve read more. Because of the theme that is emerging of duality in this play, the ensemble is currently questioning everyone’s motives – we even began to question whether Desdemona means what she says, although I think the more we read of her, the less we’ll question her. I reminded the group that, prior to this act, we haven’t heard much at all from Desdemona or Emilia, and we’re likely to know them a lot better the deeper we get. At this point, some members of the group feel Desdemona’s motives are pure and from a place of friendship and/or interest in Othello’s wellbeing (she knows Cassio has his back), but others aren’t so sure.

Then we started in on Act III, Scene III, which is long and intense, and intensely interesting. Our excitement grew the more we read – this group is really in love with the language, and many gasped audibly or laughed in appreciation at Iago’s skillful manipulation of Othello – how upset he make Othello without having actually said anything of substance. Some women spoke of having manipulated others in this way, i.e., “Are you going to wear your hair like that?” Others spoke of recognizing this kind of behavior in others from their lives.

“He’s manipulating – he’s playing a game,” said one woman. “He’s planting a seed,” said another. One woman said she felt sorry for Othello as he began to lose his composure.

I hearkened back to one woman’s likening of Iago to a chess master several weeks back – of being someone who is thinking far ahead but remaining open to opportunity so he can react to his opponent’s moves.

That same woman likened Iago to Loki, the god of mischief. She strongly feels that, while he means harm, he doesn’t mean for things to go as far as they do.

We ran out of time before we got to the end of the scene, and as we put our ring back up, one woman said, “This was AWESOME tonight.”

Friday

We launched right back into Act III, Scene III, tonight after a quick recap for someone who was absent on Tuesday. We took our time breaking down Othello’s soliloquy after Iago’s exit, which contains a fairly complicated metaphor. We noted that he immediately leaps to faults in himself rather than faults in Desdemona to explain her unfaithfulness – that many people besides Iago have primed him for this.

Following our reading of the section when Desdemona drops her handkerchief and Emilia gives it to Iago, one member of the group asked if we thought Emilia was in on the plot. Another stated pretty adamantly that she seems like a battered wife. “If she was thinking, she’d think this was sketchy, but at this point she’s so broken she’s not thinking,” she said. We did note that she seems to feel remorse the moment she actually hand the handkerchief to her husband.

We made our way through the remainder of the scene – Othello’s rage and Iago’s continued and masterful manipulation of him. “This is one of our big challenges,” I said to the group. “We need to really understand what makes Othello go from one extreme to the other so quickly. Many productions break this scene up, but Shakespeare wrote it to be played in real time, and we need to keep that in mind. How do we find the truth in that? And, likewise, we need to keep in mind that, no matter how dark Iago’s intentions, all of these people trust him.”

“This is just life,” said one woman. “Iago’s basically tapping into Othello’s one major weakness,” said another. She spoke of his insecurity, doubt, and lack of control. “He trusted one person, gave away his heart, and she betrayed him.”

“Iago has been jealous of Othello his whole life, and now’s his opportunity,” said another. Another woman brought up that Othello’s insecurities may be rooted in the cultural and class differences between him and all of the people he deals with.

Then one woman said that, if she were playing Iago, she’d want to walk around pretending to be him all day – that she’d want to fully inhabit him 24-7 as a way of truthfully telling his story. This led to a pretty animated conversation about how that method of acting, while it can make for great artistic effect, lends itself to great personal risk (ensemble members brought up Heath Ledger as an example). Although our group is not an acting class, I felt it was important in this moment to explain the difference between safe and unsafe methods of acting, since this group is already diving much deeper into the material than past ensembles and is likely to continue to do so. This material is rich and intellectually stimulating, but it is also raw and emotional, and many ensemble members can personally relate to what some of the characters go through. It is of the utmost importance that our exploration and storytelling remain safe – that we continue to draw on our personal experiences to learn about the play (and thus gain new perspective on our stories), but that we not re-live past trauma of our own while trying to tell these characters’ stories.

As always with this program, I go where the group leads me. If we are going to get a bit into acting technique as a means of safe storytelling, then that’s where we’re going. We will maintain our emphasis on process rather than performance; on gaining empathy and knowledge rather than on becoming Actors with a Capital A. We will continue to take care of each other. 

Session Five: Week 6, Part 2

Friday

Our plan tonight was to review all of Act II and then explore it on its feet. After we had read it through, however, one member of the ensemble asked if she could bring a concern to the group, and of course we all said yes. She said that she is frustrated by what she feels is the slow pace of our getting through the material, and she said that she is not the only one who feels this way. She did not understand why we chose not to read through the entire play before working on it in detail, and she feels that our exploration would be more efficient and effective if everyone knew how things turned out in the play.

She has a point – most traditional processes that I know of begin with a full read-through of the script, followed by discussion and rehearsal. That said, the people in our group learn in a variety of ways, and some of us were quick to remind everyone that simply reading the text, even aloud, does not allow for some of us to fully comprehend it. Most members of the group strongly objected to doing away with the “stop-and-start” nature of our reading, during which we frequently pause to analyze the text (at least the gist of it) and make sure everyone is in the loop.  

It was a lengthy and animated discussion;  mostly respectful, although there were moments when things began to get heated – it’s very difficult territory to navigate, talking about different ways of learning without implying that anyone is less or more intelligent than others. I tried to constantly reiterate that neither implication was being made – that some people have a gift for comprehending Shakespeare pretty well while moving through it quickly, but that those people often miss the details that folks who move more painstakingly absorb due to their slower pace. Neither is the wrong way to work, and it is a challenge to bridge that gap so that no one is overly frustrated.

Ultimately, we cannot make everyone completely happy, but we feel mostly good about the compromise we’ve settled on.

Rather than reading/discussing, and then reviewing/staging, we will spend the next 2-3 weeks only reading/discussing (taking breaks to improvise and play theatre games) the remainder of the play, and then 2-3 weeks after that putting scenes from Acts II-V on their feet. This will enable us to get to the end of the play more quickly without rushing to cast it – a mistake we made last year, and I made sure to remind everyone of that so we learn from it rather than repeating it.

Once we had arrived at this conclusion, most of the group got up to play a game. One member remained seated, visibly upset. I asked her if she was okay, and she said, “I will be.” I asked her if she wanted to talk to me about it, and after a moment of hesitation, she did. She was upset about the “big picture” issue of so many around her “rushing.” I asked if she meant in this group, and she said, “It’s not only this group. It’s prison.” She is a person who is extremely dedicated to learning, but she needs to move at a slower pace with a lot of review in order to fully absorb new information. She told me a bit of her personal history in learning environments, and, as is true for many people who learn this way, she’s often felt extremely discouraged. She was under the impression that we were going to read straight through our play with no discussion, and I made sure she knew that that is not what is going to happen – that no one wants any ensemble member left behind, and there is no way we are going to let that happen to her. I suggested that she sit beside a facilitator as we read so she can ask questions quietly (something that another woman with a similar challenge has been doing), and she liked that idea. I also reassured her that, with nine months to work on a single play, she is going to understand it on a very deep level by the time we’re done, even if we gloss over some things in the next few weeks.

She seemed to be reassured when she left – still upset about the larger issues, but comfortable that, at least in our group, she does not need to fear being left behind or left out. This is a very difficult balance to strike, but I feel strongly that this group is up to it, as long as we stay open to one another and communicate when we’re frustrated – which is what we did tonight.

Session Five: Week 6, Part 1

Tuesday

We spent a lot of time checking in within our circle tonight, as there is a lot going on with some members of the group, and we all wanted to listen as they shared. The support and strength coming from the circle were heartening – the willingness to listen, to offer condolences and gentle advice, and to segue into group jokes and more lighthearted talk that enabled us to move on… I was very glad that we took the time that we did.

We then finished reading Act II Scene III, intending to get it on its feet. But the group discussion surrounding the scene and characters was so intense, enlightening, and constructive that we never quite got there – and no one seemed to mind.

We talked a lot about Iago and our varying “takes” on him. Some think that he’s arrogant and out to prove something – either he doesn’t think he’s that bad or he doesn’t care. One woman believes strongly that his intent is to prove how smart he is. Then someone mentioned that perhaps he is “evil,” and the conversation took a turn toward the stuff that is at the heart of the work that we do.

“He’s NOT evil,” said one woman. “Just imagine if you’d worked your whole life toward something, only to be passed over and have nothing to show for it. I’d break down, too.”

“It must be exhausting, carrying around all those resentments,” said another. “This is me six years ago – I know how this feels.”

“How many of us have dated Iago?” asked one woman, and at least five others raised their hands. “I relate to Iago,” said another. “I dealt drugs, and I did them – I was always stealing from Peter to pay Paul.”

“Frannie always reminds us not to judge characters,” said a longtime member of the group. “Remember how a month ago I said I hated Cassio? Now I might like him. I might even want to play him… and I think you knew, Frannie.”

We all laughed. “Well, at first he can come off as kind of smug – he’s the Golden Boy, and nobody likes the Golden Boy,” I said, “But now that you’ve seen him take this fall, you can empathize with him more because it’s obvious that he’s not perfect… This is what we want to do - find our way in so we can understand and empathize with the characters – and sometimes that way in is through our personal experience.”

Sarah then said that she had gained new insight into Iago through what our ensemble was sharing. “Sometimes it just takes a person who’s walked a different path,” said a woman who’s been in the group for two years. “It is so strange, what you learn about yourself here. If you ever want to really learn about yourself, get locked up for a little while,” said another.

Another woman, who’d been rather quiet up to this point, said, “I don’t know… I really click with Iago. But, you know… I love like Othello, and I hate like Iago.” Many ensemble members nodded. “That’s the thing about this group,” she continued, “At so many points, it just shows me myself. I never thought I would be using this… but I use it in real life.” She elaborated a bit, speaking about using traits of the character she played in Shrew to guide her in one of her current pursuits.

We then branched off into a conversation about the influence of Othello’s military experience on his behavior in the play. Soldiers need to take their “fight-or-flight” responses and react properly, which often means staying calm while being on high alert. “It’s like being here,” said one woman. Another pointed out that it is selfless to serve one’s country as a soldier, and Kyle reminded all of us that, while that may be true, this isn’t Othello’s country – which other characters point out constantly – and that may give us more insight into him.

We briefly talked about Roderigo, too, as we ended our reading of the scene. Again he is ready to give up, and again he lets Iago pull him back into the plot. What’s going on with him? “Maybe he just has nothing to lose,” said one woman. This made a light bulb go off for me – when you truly have nothing, you often cling to some crazy hope. Maybe that’s the way in for whomever plays this character.

We are not even halfway through the play, and already the group’s insight is staggering to me. They are teaching me so much about this play, and I am so honored to be with them through this process.