Saturday, November 5, 2016

The Text
Fragmented, paradoxical, non-linear and told by a revolving cast of narrators, Dark Ride is a quintessentially post-modern text. Dr. Paul Castagno includes Len Jenkin in a group of writers he refers to as “language playwrights.” Including Constance Congdon, Suzan-Lori Parks, Eric Overmeyer and Paula Vogel, the language playwrights came into their own during the 1980s crafting plays that favor rhythm over linearity.[1] Dark Ride, like Parks’ The America Play and Congdon’s Tales of the Lost Formicans, reads a bit more like a piece of jazz music than a dramatic text. Rather than one point of view, multiple narrators vie with each other to tell a multi-faceted story that unfolds like one of M.C. Escher’s famous prints that visually depict paradoxes of infinity and self-reflexivity.
As the software portion of the media delivery system and media style were to be two of the final elements introduced into the mix, it was important to have a text that would sustain the starts, stops and the speed of the integrated media. For me this meant the play would have to be imbued with great dialogic energy.
According to Staub “the initiation or cessation of motion, the maintenance or change of direction, and the increase or decrease of rate, all require energy” and “since the human body is the basic moving unit of kinetic theatre, theatrical energy is measured in terms of that body.”[2] Just as each part of the text reacts with or against other parts to create a dynamic sense of meaning, bodies in motion must do the same as they interact with media and other kinetic elements in the playing space. It was important that the direction of the actors be flexible enough that a congruent and flexible style could be gleaned from the mixture of actor movement and media delivery.[3]



[1] Paul C. Castagno. New Playwriting Strategies: A Language Based Approach to Playwriting. New York: Routledge, 2001. 3.
[2] Staub. 173.
[3] I include here the author’s notes on directing from the original text, as they were extremely helpful in guiding my personal process of metaphor creation:
The text of Dark Ride includes a minimum of stage direction, and a minimum of description as to set, costuming, and design. This is for two reasons. All the necessary information as to place and the movement of actors can he easily inferred from the character's dialogue and the stage directions given and because of the author's wish that the play be adaptable and responsive to particular actors, directors, and playing spaces. The text should be thought of as a basic ground, out of which the staging should grow. There is no "right' way to stage Dark Ride. I would like, despite my desire for anyone working on a production of Dark Ride to allow their visual and theatrical imaginations full rein, to make some thematic and practical suggestions. The idea of a "dark ride," or carnival spook or ghost ride through a funhouse, where images and scenes appear suddenly of darkness and just as suddenly disappear, is helpful to keep in mind: lights in the dark. A cinematic approach, where scenes fade into one another, or are cut to rapidly, would also be helpful to think about-the blunter style of B movies rather than art films.  . . . Settings can be simple. Rather than using large set pieces, place can be indicated by props that can easily be moved on and offstage. The use of slides, film, and sound to establish place and mood is also possible. The text also offers within itself many visual suggestions. Often, all that is necessary to establish place is the language alone. If the director thinks more of the techniques drawn upon to stage a Shakespeare play, soliloquies to the audience and all-rather than a nineteenth or twentieth century drama, he or she will be closer to the mark. It is also of interest, in a piece like Dark Ride, to stage, in the straightforward way suggested, certain moments of thought or memory as well as, or as an overlay to, the present time-place of the action. Also, the director and performers should be aware that Dark Ride is a weave of tales, of scenes within scenes, like the facets of the diamond. That a scene is within a book, or a picture, or in someone's mind makes it no less "real" in terms of staging. The 'real' point of view is a shifting one.