I Mumble the Body Electric,
or (i)Phone, (u)Phone
We hear an undeniably human voice. First a few. Then hundreds. Then thousands. Then all of the human voices in the world, all at once.
We hear an undeniably human voice. First a few. Then hundreds. Then thousands. Then all of the human voices in the world, all at once.
I can’t ever think of an example of theatre without an audience, though. Even if it is just me sitting here reading or thinking to myself, as you may be with this now.
The curtain opens on the cold, wintry Atlantic Ocean.
The stage directions here describe the future, what will come to pass, and what has already passed for these characters between the time of the play’s setting and the time of the play’s writing.
As you read this, please put this song on repeat https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mPRy1B4t5YA Or this https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rILKm-DC06A […]
This raises the question of whether theatre pieces that engage with race as a concept should direct audiences towards particular kinds of arguments. And if there are inexplicit arguments about diverse casting and performance in this imagined piece, will they be evident to audiences?
Her reflections offer us a thinking-through of thought-making, thought-creation; a play between memory and invention, how feeling shapes itself into words.
Gradually, the audience realizes that the rocks are this canyon's performers. It is the slowest performance to which this audience has ever borne witness.
They must fully learn the role, but then are given an appropriate span of time to forget it sufficiently.