This is part of a performance of the Skriker that was at the Dallas Hub Theater in October 2005. Directed by Robert Neblett.
This is one of my favourite sections of the play, the creature with the Hurdy Gurdy machine at the start is Yallery Brown - the dancer who pays him money is meant to keep bopping throughout the rest of the performance (I suppose that this is to represent the way Yallery Brown is said to punish those who show him gratitude).
Lily encounters the Skriker disguised as a vagrant and shows her some affection, for which she is 'rewarded' with the ability to cough up money as she talks.
A man becomes obsessed by a Green Woman - have never been able to work out exactly what this is meant to symbolise, though there are plenty of examples of people in folktales who have had a relationship with a fiary that has been lost, and they have gone on to pine to death. The Green Children is a tale where one of the green children pines and dies after being separated from it's home land. Also green is a colour often worn by the fairies and is associated with fairy royalty.
The final scene is shown in a bar where the Skriker, in the guise of an American tourist, tries to get Lily to explain such concepts as aeroplanes and television to her (presumably the Skriker has not been paying too much attention to human affairs in the past century or so).
The Skriker isn't the only fairy in the scene, to the left of the screen a Kelpie can be seen trying to pick up a date (he will later go on to drown and eat her).
There is a hint about something that might be bothering the Skriker in this scene, as she accuses Lily of poisoning her. This is probably a reference to environmental damage - something Caryl Churchill has said is one of the themes of the play. There are other, more obvious references to damage to the environment later in the play - but this is the only time the Skriker seems bitter about it. As an "earth spirit" the Skriker may have felt some personal injury as the result of environmental damage - hence the angry accusations of poisoning.
Showing posts with label fairies in the theatre. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fairies in the theatre. Show all posts
Thursday, 22 May 2008
Thursday, 20 March 2008
My Proposals for a Skriker Soundtrack - Part 1
Do you spend all your time thinking about what you would do if you were able to direct a film of a book you reckon is top? Wouldn't The Skriker make a great film? You must regularly spend spare moments thinking about all the various interpretive processes and directoral decisions you would make were you to be priviledged enough to have the chance to direct a film of The Skriker!
What, you've never heard of it? But its the world's best play! Well, it is if you have an abiding passion for British folklore, are concerned about damage to the environment and/or damage to the brain, aren't too intimidated by wildly ambitious stage directions, love a good stream of consciousness, have a well developed sense of black humour and don't require a happy ending.
Being dead into the play and into music I think I'll start by compiling a soundtrack, I'm going to start with my four favourite songs about damage to the environment. I'll cover songs with a folkloric theme, or ones that just suit the tone of the play with sonic aptness at a later date.
225 – NEW MODEL ARMY
This is top and must be one of my Favourite Songs Ever. I know it must be one of my Favourite Songs Ever because 15-odd years after I first became a fan it still makes my toes open and shut with a bang when it turns up on random shuffle on the iPod. This is in comparison with, say, Catch by the Cure, which I used to love alongside 225, but now makes me cringe in near physical pain. It’s as if someone is rooting around inside the bottom of my spinal column with a flathead screwdriver every time I hear its horrid synthetic violin drone sparking up.
225 is essentially about feeling helpless in the face of rampant consumerism, the rising of corporate culture and exploitation of the environment. Whilst most rock songs about such concerns come across as politically naive, if not openly and preachingly hypocritical, 225 remains passionate whilst being wise enough not to come across as some patronising student radical’s call to revolution. The song sympathises with a young girl struggling to scan in barcodes and operate a till (“I would help her if I only knew how, but these things they are a mystery to me too”), it stresses a love of wild places, and an affront at their despoliation (“even in the freshest mountain air, the jet fighters practise overhead”), and a fear of being monitored by forces beyond your control (“we’ll hope that the corporate ears do not listen lest we find ourselves committing some kind of treason and filed in the tapes without a rhyme without a reason whilst they tell us that its all for our own protection”).
Musically it manages to sound both down-to-earth and spooky, with a long droning keyboard noise ushering the grungy tune in and out of existence. Thanks to the military drumming and squalling guitar riffs it also Rocks, and it Rocks with a northern accent at that.
So I think it’s a prime candidate for inclusion into a Skriker soundtrack. Perhaps it could even play over the closing credits.
MONKEY GONE TO HEAVEN – PIXIES
Another grungy rock song with an environmentalist bent, perhaps the most famous example, is Monkey Gone to Heaven. Like 225 Monkey Gone to Heaven also avoids seeming preachy and naive, but it does so by miring the message in self-effacing humour and poetic obfuscation. It flirts with an environmental message the same way a shy boy flirts with a girl he believes is out of his league. Ha ha ha, I’m not really doing this, if I was really doing this it would be embarrassing wouldn’t it? I’m not doing this really (yes I am).
I’m being a little unfair (after all, obscuring an environmental message within arresting poetry is an accusation that could be levelled at The Skriker as well). The song is great fun and I won’t deny the strength and intent of lyrical imagery in lines like “now there’s a hole in the sky and the ground’s not cold, and if the ground’s not cold everything is going to burn, we’ll take turns, I’ll get mine too”.
Musically it Rocks, and it Rocks with cellos too (which any fan of the Auteurs will tell you is A Good Thing).
It might be a bit light in tone for the play though. If I were going to use it I’d work it into the scene with the American woman in the bar. Black Francis’ accent and the musical style are so recognisably US that it might help forge an association in the viewers’ minds. The scene is also one of the few in which environmental concerns are clearly voiced by a character in the play.
As a bonus there’s the obvious association with fairies in the band name too.
OH LARSON B – BRITISH SEA POWER
Perhaps this jaunty number sounds just as jokey and guilty of avoiding the point as the previous choice, but I think Oh Larson B is far cleverer than that. It strikes me as being more of the “treating a weighty subject with levity” school, which I approve of, rather than being ashamed to openly admit to its intentions, which I'm less impressed by.
For those of you who don’t know Larson B was a swathe of Antarctic ice, some 3250 square kilometres in size, which collapsed in 2002. The break up of the shelf is pointed to as clear evidence of global warming by those who know what they are talking about, and dismissed as irrelevant by those who don’t.
So the song is unusual for being the only eulogy to a swathe of ice I can think of. It has a great sense of bleak humour (is the line “oh Larson B, you can fall on me” a message of support for the broken shelf or, as I prefer to think, a sardonic acknowledgement of where much of our future rainwater is going to come from?) whilst acknowledging the physical awesomeness of something that’s about the size of Wales or Rhode Island (“oh Larson B, desalinate the barren sea”).
Musically it Rocks. It Rocks in a sort of politely reserved manner, but it still Rocks.
Not too sure where or how I’d employ this in a production, it wouldn’t pay to put too much Rock into The Skriker, but I promise I would try.
DON'T ASK ME – PIL
Basically after choosing three songs that seek to avoid preaching or patronising I’m going to plump for one that doesn’t worry about that and seeks to hit the nail on the head, with a sledgehammer. After all if you’re going to try and get through to those who seek to deny that we need to do anything about the changes we are engendering in the sea, soil and atmosphere of the planet on which we live then I don’t think sledgehammers are out of the question. Why not sing at them in an aggressively arresting manner, utilising a tone of voice that engenders a sensation somewhat akin to having an orgasm whilst being forced to chew tinfoil?
“Protecting my planet! You wrap it in plastic! This package is product! Perfected eternal! A crap in cling wrap! I never met yet a Prime Minister or President who tolda da truth yet!”
It Rocks, it Rocks in a weird poppy-but-uncomfortable “I want to listen to it dead loud but don’t want the neighbours to think they live next door to a nutter” way.
Don’t know how I’d use it in a soundtrack exactly, I probably wouldn’t, it would distract too much. Bless it.
What, you've never heard of it? But its the world's best play! Well, it is if you have an abiding passion for British folklore, are concerned about damage to the environment and/or damage to the brain, aren't too intimidated by wildly ambitious stage directions, love a good stream of consciousness, have a well developed sense of black humour and don't require a happy ending.
Being dead into the play and into music I think I'll start by compiling a soundtrack, I'm going to start with my four favourite songs about damage to the environment. I'll cover songs with a folkloric theme, or ones that just suit the tone of the play with sonic aptness at a later date.
225 – NEW MODEL ARMY
This is top and must be one of my Favourite Songs Ever. I know it must be one of my Favourite Songs Ever because 15-odd years after I first became a fan it still makes my toes open and shut with a bang when it turns up on random shuffle on the iPod. This is in comparison with, say, Catch by the Cure, which I used to love alongside 225, but now makes me cringe in near physical pain. It’s as if someone is rooting around inside the bottom of my spinal column with a flathead screwdriver every time I hear its horrid synthetic violin drone sparking up.
225 is essentially about feeling helpless in the face of rampant consumerism, the rising of corporate culture and exploitation of the environment. Whilst most rock songs about such concerns come across as politically naive, if not openly and preachingly hypocritical, 225 remains passionate whilst being wise enough not to come across as some patronising student radical’s call to revolution. The song sympathises with a young girl struggling to scan in barcodes and operate a till (“I would help her if I only knew how, but these things they are a mystery to me too”), it stresses a love of wild places, and an affront at their despoliation (“even in the freshest mountain air, the jet fighters practise overhead”), and a fear of being monitored by forces beyond your control (“we’ll hope that the corporate ears do not listen lest we find ourselves committing some kind of treason and filed in the tapes without a rhyme without a reason whilst they tell us that its all for our own protection”).
Musically it manages to sound both down-to-earth and spooky, with a long droning keyboard noise ushering the grungy tune in and out of existence. Thanks to the military drumming and squalling guitar riffs it also Rocks, and it Rocks with a northern accent at that.
So I think it’s a prime candidate for inclusion into a Skriker soundtrack. Perhaps it could even play over the closing credits.
MONKEY GONE TO HEAVEN – PIXIES
Another grungy rock song with an environmentalist bent, perhaps the most famous example, is Monkey Gone to Heaven. Like 225 Monkey Gone to Heaven also avoids seeming preachy and naive, but it does so by miring the message in self-effacing humour and poetic obfuscation. It flirts with an environmental message the same way a shy boy flirts with a girl he believes is out of his league. Ha ha ha, I’m not really doing this, if I was really doing this it would be embarrassing wouldn’t it? I’m not doing this really (yes I am).
I’m being a little unfair (after all, obscuring an environmental message within arresting poetry is an accusation that could be levelled at The Skriker as well). The song is great fun and I won’t deny the strength and intent of lyrical imagery in lines like “now there’s a hole in the sky and the ground’s not cold, and if the ground’s not cold everything is going to burn, we’ll take turns, I’ll get mine too”.
Musically it Rocks, and it Rocks with cellos too (which any fan of the Auteurs will tell you is A Good Thing).
It might be a bit light in tone for the play though. If I were going to use it I’d work it into the scene with the American woman in the bar. Black Francis’ accent and the musical style are so recognisably US that it might help forge an association in the viewers’ minds. The scene is also one of the few in which environmental concerns are clearly voiced by a character in the play.
As a bonus there’s the obvious association with fairies in the band name too.
OH LARSON B – BRITISH SEA POWER
Perhaps this jaunty number sounds just as jokey and guilty of avoiding the point as the previous choice, but I think Oh Larson B is far cleverer than that. It strikes me as being more of the “treating a weighty subject with levity” school, which I approve of, rather than being ashamed to openly admit to its intentions, which I'm less impressed by.
For those of you who don’t know Larson B was a swathe of Antarctic ice, some 3250 square kilometres in size, which collapsed in 2002. The break up of the shelf is pointed to as clear evidence of global warming by those who know what they are talking about, and dismissed as irrelevant by those who don’t.
So the song is unusual for being the only eulogy to a swathe of ice I can think of. It has a great sense of bleak humour (is the line “oh Larson B, you can fall on me” a message of support for the broken shelf or, as I prefer to think, a sardonic acknowledgement of where much of our future rainwater is going to come from?) whilst acknowledging the physical awesomeness of something that’s about the size of Wales or Rhode Island (“oh Larson B, desalinate the barren sea”).
Musically it Rocks. It Rocks in a sort of politely reserved manner, but it still Rocks.
Not too sure where or how I’d employ this in a production, it wouldn’t pay to put too much Rock into The Skriker, but I promise I would try.
DON'T ASK ME – PIL
Basically after choosing three songs that seek to avoid preaching or patronising I’m going to plump for one that doesn’t worry about that and seeks to hit the nail on the head, with a sledgehammer. After all if you’re going to try and get through to those who seek to deny that we need to do anything about the changes we are engendering in the sea, soil and atmosphere of the planet on which we live then I don’t think sledgehammers are out of the question. Why not sing at them in an aggressively arresting manner, utilising a tone of voice that engenders a sensation somewhat akin to having an orgasm whilst being forced to chew tinfoil?
“Protecting my planet! You wrap it in plastic! This package is product! Perfected eternal! A crap in cling wrap! I never met yet a Prime Minister or President who tolda da truth yet!”
It Rocks, it Rocks in a weird poppy-but-uncomfortable “I want to listen to it dead loud but don’t want the neighbours to think they live next door to a nutter” way.
Don’t know how I’d use it in a soundtrack exactly, I probably wouldn’t, it would distract too much. Bless it.
Tuesday, 18 March 2008
Something of a Bugbear
I thought I'd perform a quick image search today in order to find some costume designs from productions of The Skriker in order to have something to talk about on the blog, and I found a brief interview with George Popovich, the director of theatre at the Henry Ford Community College in Dearborn, MI. He is talking about a production of the play that they were preparing at the time. Very interesting it seems too - why do I always find out about productions of the Skriker after they finish their run?
When asked about what makes the play special he is quoted as saying: "The theme is intense and riveting, it's all rooted in Celtic Irish mythology, the fairy lore. A lot of people think fairies are Tinkerbell, and actually that's not the case at all. That's all been whitewashed and 'cutied up' to sell dolls. The world of fairies is a vile, ambitious world. Fairies can be good, evil (or) both at the same time." He then goes on to talk about the environmental subtext and the technical innovations the theatre used in the production.
Whilst I am glad that he stresses the fairies' moral capriciousness whilst dismissing their cutesy public image [1], he also makes a claim that I often see levelled at fairy lore, that it is an inherently Celtic tradition - by which they seem to mean that it is 'an Irish thing'.
Now I don't mean to appear the least bit ignorant of the debt that the canon of British Folklore owes to the Gaelic world, or that Ireland provides hotspots where many folktales have arisen, but to stress this importance over that of Cornwall, the Orkneys, Yorkshire, Lincolnshire and many other areas of England, Scotland and Wales is just unfair.
Especially when referring to The Skriker. The main character is taken (via Katherine Briggs, I imagine) from a collection of folk tales from Lancashire. "Skriking" is still a fairly common slang word for wailing and crying in the north-west of England - use it in conversation in Salford and they'll know what you mean, use it in Dublin and you'll get blank looks. The play's supporting cast are mainly English spirits as well, Black Dogs from Norfolk, Lincolnshire's Yallery Brown, Cornish Spriggans, northern England's Jenny Greenteeth, and so on. Scotland may lay claim to the Kelpie, Blue Men and Thrumpins, and Redcaps were said to haunt the towers on the English/Scottish borders. Wales gets a look in with Black Annis. Jimmy Squarefoot is Manx.
But, if my memory serves, the only sizable area of the British Isles that doesn't contribute a particular creature to the play is Ireland. There ain't no Leprechauns, Cluracanes, Formorians, Finn Mchuuls or wide-eyed magic salmon in the Skriker! [2]
I wonder if American commentators in particular are tempted to believe that all the perplexing, beautiful, terrifying, wise folktales of these islands simply must be Irish, due to romantic notions of what Ireland is and what England couldn't possibly be. [3]
Seeing as Americans seem to have an appetite for these stories (The Skriker is performed there far more regularly than it is in the UK) this is a temptation I would suggest they resist if they want to get to the bleeding heart of folktales and learn the truth of the heritage of these stories.
[1] I'm also bloody glad that he thought the environmental subtext was important and that he was interested in applying technical innovations to theatrical performances, so I don't want it to seem that I disapprove of his thrust at all. However, environmental concerns and directoral adventures, whilst laudable, are not the topic of this post. "I think Americans often miscredit significant aspects of folklore to the Irish" is.
[2] I was moved to do a bit more research after writing this, and it turns out I was recollecting poorly. Rawheadandbloodybones is said to have his roots in Ireland. By way of a weak excuse he is a particularly minor character in The Skriker and I had forgotten all about his inclusion.
[3] I feel that a good proportion of Americans may tend towards a fonder overall feeling towards 'Irishness' than they do towards 'Englishness' - particularly in regards to folklore. This is based on a variety of reasons.
* The fact that England used to run areas of America until they won their war of independence, providing a temptation to cast Brits as historical villains (see a variety of Hollywood movies with Mel Gibson's involvement, The Patriot, Braveheart, et al).
* The fact that England's administration now largely buoys up the political decisions of the American administration regardless of their popularity with the people of England, providing a temptation to cast Brits as ineffectual and/or toadies.
* The Irish Diaspora in America, which leads to the temptation to believe that there is something inherently more interesting, deep and/or noble about Irishness, because people often give in to the further temptation to see their own heritage as superior to that of others (judging by George Popovich's surname this may not a particular issue for him, but I believe this perception is widely held, if subconsciously so, in the US).
* A sense of sympathy with the underdog in regards to the troubled history between England and Ireland.
* The perception that Irish life is more rustic and rural and less modern and metropolitan than English life, and the belief that those who live a rustic existence must appreciate folklore to a greater degree than city-dwellers or suburbanites.
* The tourist industry trappings of Ireland you see in duty free shops on the Emerald Isle - soft-toy Leprechauns, gaily painted bodhrans and guinness glasses decorated with a four-leaved clover (the same sort of mass-produced cutesiness George Popovich himself warns against).
When asked about what makes the play special he is quoted as saying: "The theme is intense and riveting, it's all rooted in Celtic Irish mythology, the fairy lore. A lot of people think fairies are Tinkerbell, and actually that's not the case at all. That's all been whitewashed and 'cutied up' to sell dolls. The world of fairies is a vile, ambitious world. Fairies can be good, evil (or) both at the same time." He then goes on to talk about the environmental subtext and the technical innovations the theatre used in the production.
Whilst I am glad that he stresses the fairies' moral capriciousness whilst dismissing their cutesy public image [1], he also makes a claim that I often see levelled at fairy lore, that it is an inherently Celtic tradition - by which they seem to mean that it is 'an Irish thing'.
Now I don't mean to appear the least bit ignorant of the debt that the canon of British Folklore owes to the Gaelic world, or that Ireland provides hotspots where many folktales have arisen, but to stress this importance over that of Cornwall, the Orkneys, Yorkshire, Lincolnshire and many other areas of England, Scotland and Wales is just unfair.Especially when referring to The Skriker. The main character is taken (via Katherine Briggs, I imagine) from a collection of folk tales from Lancashire. "Skriking" is still a fairly common slang word for wailing and crying in the north-west of England - use it in conversation in Salford and they'll know what you mean, use it in Dublin and you'll get blank looks. The play's supporting cast are mainly English spirits as well, Black Dogs from Norfolk, Lincolnshire's Yallery Brown, Cornish Spriggans, northern England's Jenny Greenteeth, and so on. Scotland may lay claim to the Kelpie, Blue Men and Thrumpins, and Redcaps were said to haunt the towers on the English/Scottish borders. Wales gets a look in with Black Annis. Jimmy Squarefoot is Manx.
But, if my memory serves, the only sizable area of the British Isles that doesn't contribute a particular creature to the play is Ireland. There ain't no Leprechauns, Cluracanes, Formorians, Finn Mchuuls or wide-eyed magic salmon in the Skriker! [2]
I wonder if American commentators in particular are tempted to believe that all the perplexing, beautiful, terrifying, wise folktales of these islands simply must be Irish, due to romantic notions of what Ireland is and what England couldn't possibly be. [3]
Seeing as Americans seem to have an appetite for these stories (The Skriker is performed there far more regularly than it is in the UK) this is a temptation I would suggest they resist if they want to get to the bleeding heart of folktales and learn the truth of the heritage of these stories.
[1] I'm also bloody glad that he thought the environmental subtext was important and that he was interested in applying technical innovations to theatrical performances, so I don't want it to seem that I disapprove of his thrust at all. However, environmental concerns and directoral adventures, whilst laudable, are not the topic of this post. "I think Americans often miscredit significant aspects of folklore to the Irish" is.
[2] I was moved to do a bit more research after writing this, and it turns out I was recollecting poorly. Rawheadandbloodybones is said to have his roots in Ireland. By way of a weak excuse he is a particularly minor character in The Skriker and I had forgotten all about his inclusion.
[3] I feel that a good proportion of Americans may tend towards a fonder overall feeling towards 'Irishness' than they do towards 'Englishness' - particularly in regards to folklore. This is based on a variety of reasons.
* The fact that England used to run areas of America until they won their war of independence, providing a temptation to cast Brits as historical villains (see a variety of Hollywood movies with Mel Gibson's involvement, The Patriot, Braveheart, et al).
* The fact that England's administration now largely buoys up the political decisions of the American administration regardless of their popularity with the people of England, providing a temptation to cast Brits as ineffectual and/or toadies.
* The Irish Diaspora in America, which leads to the temptation to believe that there is something inherently more interesting, deep and/or noble about Irishness, because people often give in to the further temptation to see their own heritage as superior to that of others (judging by George Popovich's surname this may not a particular issue for him, but I believe this perception is widely held, if subconsciously so, in the US).
* A sense of sympathy with the underdog in regards to the troubled history between England and Ireland.
* The perception that Irish life is more rustic and rural and less modern and metropolitan than English life, and the belief that those who live a rustic existence must appreciate folklore to a greater degree than city-dwellers or suburbanites.
* The tourist industry trappings of Ireland you see in duty free shops on the Emerald Isle - soft-toy Leprechauns, gaily painted bodhrans and guinness glasses decorated with a four-leaved clover (the same sort of mass-produced cutesiness George Popovich himself warns against).
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)