Much is made of Equal Opportunity Employers (EOE) and non-traditional casting in audition notices and mission statements – and it should be, since theatres should serve and reflect their communities. Of course it is a thin line between EOE and non-traditional casting on one side, and discrimination on the other. Anytime EOE and non-traditional casting are brought up, it still brings everything into play it seeks to suppress. It brings race and discriminating factors to the forefront of casting, and makes every casting choice a statement.
In his article in the December 2010 edition of AMERICAN THEATRE, entitled “Casting Without Limits,” Richard Schechner asks: ‘If the deeply ingrained conventions of casting to type was set aside, what then would the criteria be for playing a character? Is it utopian to insist that training plus insight into a role is sufficient? Can critics educate spectators and producers alike to at least look and listen to casts where gender, race, age and body type of the performers are, as it were, not perceived – that is, to see a white actor as a black Othello (without “blacking up”) or an actress, or actor, of 60 playing Juliet?’ [emphasis mine].
We have seen Laurence Olivier put on make-up and play Othello as a black man. We have seen Patrick Stewart play Othello as the only white man in the production. Will we see a non-traditional cast in FENCES? Why stop at race? How about Judi Dench and Geoffrey Palmer playing Juliet and Romeo? Everyone knows the story. Why must we see young actors in those roles, when the ages of the performers are not as important as their ability to express what it feels like to be young and in love. There used to be a great tradition of actors and actresses playing these roles well into their fifties and beyond. Boys portrayed women. Masks were worn and anyone could play any part at any time.
Has the collective imagination of the audience atrophied so far that we must have literal interpretations on the stage in order to follow or enjoy a story? Has actor’s creativity been hamstrung to the point that they cannot see themselves in roles they do not outwardly resemble? If so, then it is time for Theatre to lie down and die, because the shared imagination of the audience and the performers is the biggest strength that Theatre has. Films are about the directors’ imagination. Books are about the authors' imagination. In both cases the audience are receptacles. There is a reason that someone who can sit through a 2 and-a-half hour movie needs a 10-minute break in the middle of a 100-minute play:
An actor steps on stage. Another one arrives and says, ‘Hello, Tim.’ The first actor answers, and we accept that he is Tim. ‘How is the family, Tim?’ We accept that Tim has a family. ‘How was the 50th birthday, Tim?’ Now, we know that Tim is 50. ‘But wait a minute, he does not look a day over 25,’ we say to ourselves. We no longer accept that reality. (But we know that what we are seeing and hearing is not reality. It's people telling us a story, so why insist, even in the back of our minds, on literal truth?) Reconciling what we see and what we hear becomes tiring and uncomfortable, and sometimes we lose the story.
Rather than playing to the medium’s strength, producers decided to make it easier for the audience, and sacrifice storytelling, talent and imagination in order to present an understandable story. It is a trade-off that more often than not confines actors to constrictive types, limits the expectations of the audience and the expectations that actors have of themselves.
What then would be the criteria for playing a character? What then makes a great actor? Can a woman play a male role, without having the character be changed into a woman? What then constitutes good casting? What is more important to the story, the character portrayed, or the actor portraying the character?
The quest for these answers is a journey that will sustain both Theatre and the audience. It will define them both in the years to come. Theatres should lead the voyage, and the audience should follow bravely.
I think it depends on the play. I've been in an Aphra Behn show that was cast with all women and it was horrible. The tension between the sexes that was vital to the plot just wasn't there. It was boring.
ReplyDeleteAnother time, it enraged a few of my male actor friends when I was cast as Mercutio with the rest of the actors tradionally cast. They thought that would ruin everything that character represents.
Luckily, the director didn't make a "point" that I was a woman. No lines were changed and I was one of the guys without being a guy and the audiences loved it. It brought another dimension to the relationship Romeo, Benvolio & Mercutio have with each other.
Despite that however, it seems that gender and race are more important to the story than age is with dramas and anything goes for comedies. It's become accepted that Juliet and Cleopatra are usually played by white women of various ages while Lady Bracknell and the Nurse are frequently played by men. The audience shouldn't be distracted by non-traditional casting when the dramatic story is so important, and yet in comedies it just adds an extra layer of laughs.
There is a difference in casting non-traditionally for its own sake, and casting based on talent. Taking race, gender, age etc. out of the equation, then how should plays be cast? An all female production of an Aphra Behn play isn't in and of itself a bad idea, but it does have to be done well.
ReplyDeleteYou're example of a woman playing a male Mercutio -or at least a Mercutio where the only difference was the gender of the actor portraying the part- is exactly my point. A good actor will be able to tell the story. If the entire cast had been cast by talent and not type (assuming that it wasn't), the story would have been the same, but a female actress playing a traditionally male role would not have stood out as much as it did.