Directing Concept Statements by Chris Stauffer

Bash by Neil Labute

“In America there are problems, and those problems are covered by veneers. Sometimes it’s a corporate veneer, sometimes it’s a politically correct veneer. And it bugs [Neil LaBute]. So he writes plays that scratch past the coverings of things.”
--Tim Slover, Mentor to LaBute and Professor at BYU

Bash is a familiar reflection of normalcy, tenaciously tapped at until it is shattered. The characters appear ordinary and mundane at first glance, but once the prosaic “veneer” is destroyed, their matter-of-fact atrocities are revealed.
The Greek titles of the plays suggest tragedies that are universal and timeless. The prevailing layers of soot, grime, and bland, modern mock-ups are stripped away exposing detailed, archaic illustrations of realities that are sometimes difficult to face. The play is set in modern times, but perhaps a twist of classic Greek art could be incorporated into the design scheme to symbolize the retelling of these age-old human transgressions.
In the beginning of each piece, all aspects of design should appear very normal and typical; a picture of the polished, outer selves that we show the world. As the veneers are worn down, the design begins to reveal the unnerving underside of the show. Bash scratches away the shiny surface of the facade, cracks open the angelically white shell of the rotten egg, shatters the polished window of the masked slaughterhouse… John’s tuxedo jacket is removed to reveal a blood-splattered shirt, lights intensify and become more surreal, details in the set of violent Greek art become more evident.
Bash forces you to look inward, to realize your capabilities, to comprehend your own strength and also your own vulnerability. Bash is the hidden, brewing, often unknown, potential within us all. Bash is secrets revealed. Bash is the exploration of the dangers of naiveté. Humanity is so fragile, and each individual mind is on the brink of so many great possibilities and capabilities. There is a fine line between love and hate, philanthropy and wickedness, creation and destruction.
Bash has the power to open an audience’s eyes to the real-life tragedies that occur every day. Gay bashings and kidnappings, the murders of Mathew Shephard and the children of Andrea Yates, these things actually take place and they affect us all. The human propensity toward violence is especially evident on the eve of a war. The daily news is enough to remind us of these brutal realities, but the theatre setting is an opportunity for a small group of individuals to acknowledge these truths, denounce the dreadful, and celebrate our humanity.

Picnic by William Inge

Picnic is a magnet of social conformity. The characters of the play either hold tightly to its strong sense of influence and security, or oppose it like two north poles of separate magnets. Every issue in this play is reliant on how the different characters adhere to or resist the central social mold, and their contentment or conflict with that position.
To create a more visceral image for this metaphor, think of an iron bird and it’s magnetic cage. Each character having their own bird and their own cage; some are metallic parrots vibrantly struggling to escape their binding prisons, while others are submissive sparrows who have succumbed to the overpowering grasp of their domicile.
There are many aspects that could represent this central magnet in the play. In the set, we experience the cagelike pillars of Flo’s porch, Flo’s home being a symbol of comfort in stability. Mrs. Potts’ porch inviting in a more non-conventional way, her home being more of a symbol of deviation from the norm. There should be at least two separate exits/entrances; one being the exit to the picnic, and the other is to the alleyway—or the gateway to blind possibilities. These should also differ in their magnetic appeal as Flo’s and Mrs. Potts’ porches differ.
The costumes should be somewhat uniform, perhaps with color or style, for the conformist characters, displaying their harmony with Flo’s world. While the other characters’ costumes are a bit brighter or wilder, perhaps influencing some of the more naïve characters in time.
The lighting should be limiting at the beginning, and should reveal certain “unseen” aspects of the set as certain characters are “enlightened”. Perhaps lighting could affect the picnic vs. alleyway exits mentioned earlier. I like the image of cage-like shadows in certain areas and at certain times.
All aspects in the design should of course abide by the qualifications of the text. The play is clearly set in or closely around the 1950’s, the script radiates realism, and the show is mainly character driven. Although the design aspects of this production are open to creative interpretation, they should not override the honest heart of the show. Simple, but executed with breathtaking creativity. Conventional, but full of remarkable surprises. A display of the paradox that is “picnic”; a symbol of the social standard, but an excursion from the norm.





Railing It Uptown by Shirley Lauro

Railing It Uptown is a restraining nightmare. A dream where you want to run away, but your legs won’t respond to your wishes; where you want to speak, but the words that emerge are unfamiliar. A feeling of being shackled by invisible chains, of somehow having your basic functions (voice, sight, hearing) manipulated by an unobserved puppeteer. The two characters in this play are both greatly affected by this notion of incompetence to outwardly demonstrate their inner desires.
The set should be constricting. Obstacles should be included, and a sense of imprisonment should be experienced. It is set on a subway, and the tunnel-effect of looking down the train, as opposed to a cross-sectional view, gives the feeling of entrapment; while also conveying a never-ending illusion of infinity. The set should necessitate confinement, therefore forcing the proximity of the characters into intimacy.
The costumes aren’t necessarily limited to black and white. Obviously they should contrast heavily regarding class, attitude, and hygiene.
The lighting can give us a sense of motion, creating the picture of a difficulty of motion on foot. The inability to run—as in a dream. The interior lighting should be harsh and white. Creepy, not in its abundance of shadow, but in the ominous fact that it leaves nowhere to hide.
The sound should be surreal, yet believable. We want to portray the sensations of a dream, but the audience should be able to relate it to waking life as well. The fact that it could be real is what gives it its terror.





27 Wagons Full of Cotton by Tennessee Williams

“And come hither, and I shall light a candle of understanding in thine heart, which shall not be put out…” (2Esdr 14:25)

27 Wagons Full of Cotton is a melting candle. The flame: an incessant hazard to the incendiary fibers of free-floating cotton so abundant in the breeze. The wick: a faithful fodder, fostering the determined flame. The wax: a deliberate countdown to the definitive climax; will the flame suffocate and snuff out, or will it ignite something new? 27 Wagons requires the uninterrupted suspense of the flame, the life-force of the wick, and yet the slowly revealing worth of the wax.
The set is simply a Mississipi porch. There should be areas where the flames of the actors can breath freely and radiate, and there should be areas (specifically the swing) in which the flames are smothered and restricted. The set is the candle holder, or the base for all that is aglow.
The lighting carries the audience through the candle burning process. In scene 1, the lighting impresses us with the waning orange light of evening; which is so similar to that of dawn, or the gasping flame of a newly lit candle. In scene 2, the flame is shining brightly in the form of the scorching afternoon sun. Finally, in scene 3, the haunting moonlight presents the image of the fading blue dud of a dying candle.
The costumes reflect the time period, but also reveal the substance of each character’s individual “candle”. Like the wax of Flora’s candle, her costumes seem to melt away; so by the end of the play she is exposed enough to reveal the marks that have been stamped on her flesh.
Each character has their own flame, and each candle has its own conclusion. How will the licking blaze and dripping wax of one character influence the lives of the others? Which flames feed another, and when is the role of fire extinguisher attempted? Will each flame “suffocate and snuff out, or will it ignite something new?”

“It is better to light one candle than curse the darkness” (Confucius)





The Crucible by Arthur Miller

Crucible:
1. A test of the most decisive kind; a severe trial.
2. A hollow place at the bottom of a furnace, to receive the melted metal.

The Crucible is a mind game involving perspective and beliefs. We see the twisting and tearing of one’s own schema and the serrated pock marks left by the forceful impression of other’s strong judgment. In The Crucible the question of “who is right?” can constantly be posed to an audience. Playing with the audience’s perspective on this matter could be a fresh and intriguing aspect to a production.
In designing costumes, the question of who is good and who is bad could easily be answered for the audience before the play even develops. In a more engaging approach, consider John and Elizabeth Proctor in dark clothing with hints of blood red; while Abigail and Tituba are colorful and cheerful and each bear a cross as a testimony of their faith. Hopefully as the plot develops, the audience’s preconceived perceptions will be twisted, much like “the truth” is twisted in the story.
The lighting can aid in retaining this objective stance. A flash of red or a blink of a gobo can indicate when someone’s sense of “truth” is being influenced by someone else, whether it be in a “good” or a “bad” direction.
The set has the potential to represent the second definition of “crucible” above: A hollow place at the bottom of a furnace. Somewhere that one set of beliefs is under the pressure and persuasion of a fiery opposite.
The objective is to take the audience on an untamed trip; where their instinctual and learned perspectives are contrasted and questioned during a formerly familiar story. They are given a “test of the most decisive kind”, where they must choose between what they see and what they know and believe.