September 23, 2008: Invisible Theatre

Dear Friend,

Theatre is touchy. In the broad general sense of the term, that is, and I don’t mean touchy-feely. Because of what theatre is able to produce (catharsis, etc.) it is therefore held responsible for much. In the olden days, acting was considered a form of lying. When you’re acting, you’re clearly being someone you are not and saying things that are not true. Since that time, people have become less finicky about theatre.

I guess this argument could be had for all forms of art. Art is a large part of our lives. We invest a large amount in producing it and therefore invest a large amount of ourselves when receiving it. Our expectations are high and our disappointment great when those expectations aren’t met. In some instances we become disinterested, offended, even outraged by certain forms of art. Those of us in the arts seem to have greater expectations, which are proportional to our own investment, especially when we feel our art is meant to help change the world. If we take the time, effort, and energy to strive for good art, then gosh darn it so should Jane and John Doe.

At Northwestern we hold a rather high standard of excellence. We’re not snobby, but we know what we’re capable of and aren’t willing to settle for less. I’m happy to say we usually deliver. One of the standards we happen to hold seems rather self-explanatory and that is “what we do is theatre, not reality.”

Now, debate has been on about this simple idea “theatre, not reality” probably since before people got angry at the actor for lying. Or maybe that’s when the debate started. At any rate, throughout theatre history, and within our own department in Orange City, Iowa, there has been a debate over how real theatre can become and how theatrical real life actually can be. Philosophers, psychologists, sociologists, anthropologists, theologians, and many more PhDs and hippies have analyzed and observed the movements, attitudes, behaviors, and rituals of people as young as zero months to ancients as old as six million years in places as primitive as the Amazon jungle to as sophisticated as a Catholic mass on Good Friday. There is something very real about theatre and something very theatrical about reality. The problem occurs when the distinctions can’t be made between the two.

Augusto Boal, father of Theatre of the Oppressed, has been advocating a form of theatre that happens to fudge this line between the real and not so real. This is Invisible Theatre. Invisible Theatre has been done in many corners of the world. The instances recorded in Boal’s book Games for Actors and Non-Actors take place primarily in Europe. In each instance, actors rehearse scenes they intend to perform in a public area. These scenes deal with such issues as racism, sexual harassment, and other social prejudices. Like Theatre of the Oppressed, Invisible Theatre is meant to promote (provoke?) social change within a community: the public. Unlike Theatre of the Oppressed, Invisible Theatre has an audience that isn’t aware it is an audience: the public.

“The actors must play their parts as if they were playing in a traditional theatre, for a traditional audience. However, when the play is ready, it will be performed in a place which is not a theatre and for an audience which is not an audience[1].”

“One should never explain to the public that Invisible Theatre is theatre, lest it lose its impact[2].”

After reading Boal’s chapter on Invisible Theatre, I had a slight moment of panic. In my time at Northwestern, I’ve come to hold very near and dear to my heart the principal that “what we do is theatre, not reality.” I’ve had many conversations inside and outside the classroom on the importance of maintaining that distinction. The instances when reality has entered the theatre have never been, in my experience, profitable. The most infamous instances are those involving stage violence. The moment an actor is actually struck onstage, what should be theatre becomes real, what should be “pretend” becomes “dangerous.” Believe what you will about the imagination, but imagination remains imagination. Pretend remains pretend. If I point my finger at someone and say “bang!” any evident danger resides in my mind and the minds of the people around me. If I approach someone and deliberately slap him, no matter how pretend I may desire the situation to be, the abuse was still committed and much greater consequences will follow.

Now, these are extreme cases. Boal, to his credit, cares very much for the physical safety and even, to a degree, arguably, for the emotional and psychological safety of those involved in theatre, both on and offstage. My reservation towards Invisible Theatre remains, however, because of how deceiving its manipulative qualities truly are. (NOTE: it’s quite possible I’m splitting hairs at this point, but my “Life Story” blog entry may help in explaining that.) Despite Boal’s, or anyone’s, good intentions pertaining to Invisible Theatre, there still seems to be a sense of trickery involved. If you read any cases about Invisible Theatre, notably those chronicled in Boal’s books, you’ll realize that the people who are not the actors truly have no clue that what they’re viewing is indeed theatre and not reality. They believe what they see is actually taking place, that the circumstances are indeed real, and that there will therefore be the possibility of repercussions. There’s an instance chronicled in Games for Actors and Non-Actors where the police had to get involved because a family (the actors) were having a picnic in the middle of the road that was stopping traffic. Never mind the reasons, traffic was stopped, which adds up to so many potential and unforeseen repercussions that could very well endanger the safety of many people. All for the sake of theatrically presenting a given reality.

The moment theatre becomes trickery, for whatever reason, I personally feel it’s necessary to evaluate the reasons behind the trickery and also other alternatives. The risks, in my opinion, are too great, even if those risks are the seemingly minor possibility of losing the audiences’ trust. That trust is vital to the life and sanctity of what we do in theatre. We form a relationship, no matter how brief or how superficial, when we perform onstage something we wish to communicate to the audience. We are serving the audience, and I realize that’s a comment spoken from a Christian worldview, a worldview Boal doesn’t necessarily share and therefore a worldview where Invisible Theatre may not have the possibility of existing within. However, this is only my opinion, but a very strong opinion nonetheless.

There, friend, is my soapbox moment. I’ll no doubt be sharing with you much of what I’m learning about Boal. His intentions are very admirable, no matter how humanist they may be. His execution of those intentions, however, requires room for pause. It’s quite possible that pause will cost him and others the time they need to convince the public of their intentions, and thereby promote the social change so desperately needed. That being the case, it’s quite possible I don’t belong with Invisible Theatre at all.

On a lighter note, I spent my last night in Lupeni hanging out at Janelle and Daniel's apartment. Janelle had made peanut butter and chocolate brownies, the excuse being my departure in the morning. I had brought my laptop to get some things done, but nothing really got accomplished. I watched a couple episodes of The Office, a show I find very ingenious but absolutely despise for its blatant awkwardness. Chelsea, Anne, Hollyann, and Andrew were present, practicing Romanian and reading articles for their class the tomorrow. I tried playing chess with Andrew, but failed miserably. They were all welcome distractions. I was able to keep my mind off the inevitable. I'll miss them when I'm gone.

Blessings.
Kailen

[1] Boal, Augusto. Games for Actors and Non-Actors. New York: Routledge, 2002. Pg. 277
[2] Boal, Augusto. Games for Actors and Non-Actors. New York: Routledge, 2002. Pg. 287