Student Blog: Validating Violence

Violence is universally perceived as an unnecessary evil. However, metaphorical violence in theatrical direction allows for actors to have creative freedom while staying within the limitations of a director's vision. In Anne Bogart's A Director Prepares, violence is compared to decisiveness, articulation, and disagreement. I aspire to embody these concepts while directing Quadramics Theatre Company's production of The Haunting of Hill House at the University of Pennsylvania with my friend Bilal Morsi. As a first-time director, I yearn to follow Bogart's advice, but at the same time ensure that I am not being too violent as a collaborator and leader. By developing an understanding of when it is appropriate to make a limiting decision, take a risk through articulation, or create disagreement, I will be able to create an unforgettable theatrical experience for everyone involved. Violence is a necessary act in the theatre which spurs a paradoxical freedom for actors, directors, and audiences.

The primary kind of violence a director executes is decision making. According to Bogart, "Art is violence. To be decisive is violent" (45). When a director decides upon the blocking for an actor or positioning of a set piece, they are choosing what the audience will focus their attention on. As a cognitive science major concentrating in behavioral economics, I have studied academic theory regarding decision making, yet struggle to make firm decisions without stressing over alternatives that often lack personal motives. While directing The Haunting of Hill House, I aim to make exact decisions with artistic purpose and to not block a character in a vague manner simply since it feels natural or custom. For example, at the end of the first scene, Dr. Montague stands above the female leads seated on the couch to deliver a line which repeats in the final scene. There is artistic purpose behind this blocking decision since it emphasizes the doctor's paternal nature and fatal warning. At the same time, I am also concerned about being too decisive. Do I give thought to all the movements of actors and every relationship between them and the set, or should I focus on the movements and relationships I desire the audience to recognize most? As I create limits for my actors, I may violently limit my co-directors' ideas whose decisions in turn limit mine. Decisiveness is crucial for theatre to have meaning, but it should leave room for every artist in a production to contribute their creativity.

Another type of violence a director must carry out is articulation. A director cannot be afraid to make their decisions heard. Bogart asserts, "To be silent, to avoid the violence of articulation alleviates the risk of failure but at the same time there is also no possibility of advancement" (49). During the first rehearsal of The Haunting of Hill House, I was anxious to cut off an actor to give them a minor note on their line delivery, so I let the scene finish before giving direction. There was an appropriate time for irimi, which Bogart describes as entering a situation, yet I chose to stick with ura, which Bogart describes as going around (49). I can be rather soft spoken in a room of strangers, but in a rehearsal room full of friends my age, I still feel awkward having the power dynamic of critiquing them. After reading Bogart's essay on violence, I recognized this flaw in my directing methods and accepted that the violence of articulation is not negative or personal. It is a professional signal to actors of the appreciation of their work and a form of advice to develop their craft. A director has the freedom to ask nearly anything of their cast and production staff. Nevertheless, I have realized that a director can succumb to their own personal limitations. The sole method to fight these internal boundaries is to confront their existence and practice pushing one's limits. My perception of the risk of receiving a negative reaction to my unique ideas should be less salient than my perception of the risk of having a flat show. I must learn when to enter with articulation versus when to go around.

The final major form of violence a director encounters is disagreement. In theatre, disagreement is violent since opposite images and ideas can compete for an audience's attention and belief. For example, in the final scene of The Haunting of Hill House, Eleanor cries to stay at Hill House, then drives into a tree and before the second of death, she realizes she did not consciously decide to kill herself. Audiences are left wondering whether the house possessed her or if she was mentally ill. However, neither of these are necessarily the truth. Bogart argues, "Truth, which is an experience and not something easily defined, mostly exists in the space between opposites" (55-56). The violent disagreement between the two storylines creates an experience for audiences to have the freedom to ponder what happened to Eleanor within the limitations of psychological and supernatural phenomena. My foremost goal as a director is to leave audiences feeling compelled to dive deeper into a story to see how it expresses the human condition. Eleanor's fate sheds light on the debate of psychosis being demonic possession versus mental illness. I desire to highlight how any human can be driven to madness if they fear the unknown or trauma is triggered. Bogart's discussion of the violence of disagreement has challenged me to consider how to stage this scene while staying true to the playwright and leaving the story open to audience interpretation. Focusing on the violence of disagreement will aid me in demonstrating to audiences that there is not a clear answer to everything in life.

As I begin my directing career, I plan to delve into how violence elevates the theatrical experience for actors, directors, and audiences. The violence of decisiveness forms limits that act as guides for actors to explore their creativity within a director's vision. The violence of articulation forces directors to ignore their personal limits in order to take risks. Lastly, the violence of disagreement creates an experience for audiences to realize that the truths of the human experience fall between opposites. Violence transforms a show into an experience.