Yes, its conceits are a little tricksy… but I’ve never heard the language spoken better. I was able to draw ideas and implications out of the text in this production that I’ve never seen before, through dozens of Midsummers. In particular, the four lovers were done better than I’ve ever seen them; it’s the first time I’ve really understood each of them as a personality (the first time, for example, that I’ve really been able to distinguish between Demetrius and Lysander, who usually seem to be near-identical Handsome Young Men ordered as a job lot from Central Casting).

As a survivor of both the ’60s and the ’80s, I was lukewarm on the van full of “rude mechanicals,” but totally adored the glam-rock fairies… and my general fondness for beautiful men in fishnets and platforms was only a small part of that, I swear.

My companions, all seeing it for the first time and all of my generation, loved it too. So it isn’t just a young person’s Midsummer, although if the kids enjoy it so much the better.

I’m also going to disagree with you on Breakfast Lunch & Dinner. It was clear to me from the beginning that Minerva’s obesity was not fat in the ordinary sense of the word, but a filling up of some other kind… the desire for wisdom, I think. I don’t think it’s coincidence that she was sending food to a deity-figure, nor that the gifts she received in return were spiritual in nature.

I hadn’t thought about Marc’s idea of the floating metaphor as preparation for death, but I like it a lot; it adds another dimension for me.

The biggest problem I had with the production was its set design, which was pretty but misleading: nothing in this play was really about eating or food except at the most surface level, and the refrigerator and the mouth and so on say otherwise.

Saw Our Town for the second time last night and adored it; we agree on this one. I don’t think the young couple were quite up to snuff, but the rest of the cast made up for it, and it’s really almost a bulletproof play. At the end of the second act my friend, who’d never seen it before, was looking at me in bewilderment, trying to figure out why I’d insisted she attend it… and at the end she was wiping her face, blowing her nose and saying, “I had no idea.” Why this beautiful play has been relegated to high school productions for so many years is beyond me.

I haven’t been down there enough over the years to know what the audience will endure, but I would posit that the latter path essentially turns OSF into a museum; albeit a very good one at that. I love your idea of the experimental black box (I regularly attend PCS’s JAW Festival, so the idea of new, unfinished plays is not difficult for me) and would be very pleased if Bill Rausch moved the festival in that direction.

BTW, I had dinner with Victoria Frey of PICA last night and told her about Breakfast, Lunch and Dinner. She believes its the organization’s job to let the audience know when there’s an important element that needs to be understood (but isn’t explained) such as the floating away metaphor in BL&D. Needless to say, this stimulated discussion among those at dinner who believed it was the artist’s responsibility. Perhaps that’s the difference between the avant garde and the commercial.

Nice to hear from you. Glad you got more from “BL&D” than I did. I understood that the playwright was playing around with magical realism, but it seemed unanchored to me (and not just because the heroine was floating away!). I got the magical part. I was looking in vain for the realism. Your explanation makes a lot of sense, as does your hope that the playwright will make that clearer in any rewrite.

So here’s something to toss around: Should the Shakespeare Festival be producing plays that frankly aren’t ready for production yet — that still need significant rewriting? Is Ashland the proper place for this sort of development? We’ve seen unfinished plays on the season at, for instance, Portland Center Stage, but we understand that’s part of what the company does. Should a classic theater be doing the same thing? Or should it be producing contemporary plays only when they’ve demonstrated their completeness and literary quality, as “The Further Adventures of Hedda Gabler” does?

A thought: What about a new-plays lab in the festival’s old Black Swan Theatre, which is now used for rehearsals and other purposes? A play like “BL&D” could be produced for, say, a month, with the playwright in attendance, and tickets could be sold but at half-price, with the understanding that this was an experimental production and the show was likely to change. That way the festival wouldn’t be eating up one of its 11 annual slots on a not-ready-for-prime-time play, but it would be in the thick of new-play development, which is highly desirable for a company wanting to keep its edge. Yes, this would cost the festival money. But surely grants wold be available to underwrite such a project. (And it might be just a modest expansion of what the festival already has planned with its development of a series of plays about American history.)

Thoughts, anyone?

And, DeAnn,

Glad you liked “Midsummer” so much. From what I hear, there’s been a real generational split on the production: Younger people tend to love it, and older people tend to detest it. So maybe a really AM a geezer!

cheers,
bob

Fortunately, I attended the talkback afterwards to learn that as he was writing, the playwright was influenced by his mother’s cancer diagnosis and (I hope I’m remembering this correctly) subsequent death. So when Minerva floats (and is unable to do any of the housework, for instance), she is metaphorically preparing her family for her inevitable departure (death). Hopefully, Alfaro will make this a little clearer in any future rewrites.

I love that it was a play that could appeal to the people in the pit, but I also love that it is just about the easiest way to bring young people to theater in the history of forever.

Anyway, I love the play in general, but this production is one of the best I’ve seen of everything. I thought it was just about the truest adaptation, despite seeming so far away from what you would expect.