Those of you who have spent much time around us these past few seasons probably know that we are driven by stories that raise interesting questions. Our artists at BackStage use the family dynamic as a lens through which to examine elusive questions about our human selves and the lives we construct in the world around us. At the center of each of our stories is a family, and at the center of the family is a question. If I were to give a succinct personal summary about what I feel makes good (or even “important”) theatre, it would sound like this: good theatre asks good questions.
The same can be said about good criticism. Theatre criticism (and art criticism in general) is often at the heart of some pretty contestable arguments, sometimes for strong intellectual reasons and sometimes because the artists clearly had their feelings hurt. But in the long view, I think the most effective criticism is the kind that doesn’t tell its reader how to experience a play or a performance or work of art, but one that makes the reader think about what they saw (or will see) and finds a way to relate that experience to the everyday lives of the reader. Good theatre criticism might pre-load the reader with a question that gives that reader a certain tool or insight that makes participation in the event they attend a bit more active. Good criticism relates the importance of high standards in the art we claim as our own, and gives us the tools to understand why art is essential in our lives.
Like good theatre, good criticism asks good questions.
This weekend, we opened Caryl Churchill’s A NUMBER at the Building Stage. As part of its given circumstances, Churchill’s play centers on the story of a father who has cloned his first born son. In his review for the Chicago Tribune (a largely favorable review, I’ll admit) Chris Jones commented on something that has been ringing in my ears ever since.
” . . . one is struck anew by how much more comfortable we’ve become over the past decade with the intrusion of technology in human reproduction. I’d argue that we’re also now less worried — perhaps foolishly — that labs will suddenly start churning out folks for other folks to buy at Wal-Mart. Thus “A Number” does not so much feel like a cutting-edge drama as almost a period piece. Which does not mean it is without interest or potency.”
Here is a moment of criticism that makes me think, that makes me start to ask questions not only about the world of our play, but about the greater world we live in. We never approached the play as an examination of bioethics or as a morality tale about cloning. It is and always has been a study of the dynamics of parental decisions and responsibility under extraordinary given circumstances (human cloning.) But Jones raises a good question about an important aspect of the play that we may have taken for granted.
So let’s use the questions raised by good drama and good criticism and talk about this. Is Jones right? Are we really becoming less fearful of the idea of biologically engineered human beings? Are we starting to let go of the notion that human cloning is “playing God?”
And if so, what does that say about us and the future of our most intimate relationships?
