Entitlement
Awhile back, I was very fortunate to be able to watch and listen to Horton Foote as he gave numerous interviews and answered audience questions. But listening to him talk to a reporter for a national broadcast TV network resulted in this post.
There has been much discussion about the right of playwrights to demand adherence to every word and stage direction in their script. Some have gone so far as to claim that no-one has right of copyright on any aspect of production of their work except for the playwright. This growing movement of animosity against directors and designers should give one pause.
Mr. Foote, on the other hand, does not participate in such holier-than-thou banter. While I don’t have a verbatim transcript of what he said, and I don’t know if this portion of the interview even made it on the air, I wanted to share the basic idea: Horton Foote talks only to the director about the direction and acting of the production. He does not give actor notes to the actors, though he will answer any questions they ask him. If he does not agree with a particular choice, he will mention it to the director. That is as far as he goes. He lets the director make the final decisions about the production.
Mr. Foote said that he is always thrilled when someone wants to produce one of his plays. For him, it is an honor to see his work onstage. He enjoys watching each interpretation of his work, and said that he learns from each performance. It is never about getting an identical audience reaction or response performance after performance, or from all productions. For him, it is wonderful to see all the ways that his words are interpreted by those that read them or watch them performed.
This flies in the face of the current “if you want to do my work you must do it my way” movement that is being heard in the playwright side of the theatre world. So much emphasis on “they cut a line” or “they didn’t do the nude scene” or “they changed this to that” instead of the fact that the work was produced. Out of the thousands of plays available, only a handful are produced in any given year, and some never see the light of stage. Are today’s new playwrights so perfect that changing a single word in a script will throw the play in an entirely different direction? Is every word a work of art, never to be changed regardless of the discovered realities of actually putting it on the stage? Or are these playwrights so insecure about their writing that they fear the intended story will be lost if a single “i” has it’s dot removed?
The live performance is about insecurities. Even if every line is spoken the same way each night, it is not the same experience for every audience. Having your work performed by others should show you how others interpret it, for better or worse. If you want the same experience every time, you need to do film.
The current movement, if allowed to continue, would logically result in playwrights demanding that only the playwright direct the show. To the extreme end, only the playwright would direct and perform their plays. Realistically, if a play is good, it doesn’t matter who directs it or who is cast, the solid script will show through even the worst production (scroll to paragraph about True West). A good play is good overall, regardless of every line or direction being religiously adhered to or not. A bad play is bad regardless (and sometimes in spite of) casting, direction, or following the script verbatim (or not).
I think many playwrights in this movement could use a healthy dose of the humility that Horton Foote, a well known and highly respected, experienced, and rewarded playwright, continues to have. He does not feel that he is entitled to have his work produced, regardless of his Oscar or Pulitzer. To have your work be chosen to be produced is an honor. Especially when there are not only thousands of others trying to get their work produced, but hundreds of well known works dating back a thousand years or more that are still being produced. Competing for a place among the living and the dead should result in one being grateful for being noticed in the first place. Those that make it difficult for their work to be produced only will find that no-one is going to produce their work. This may be just fine for those living off a well-managed trust fund, but for the majority of playwrights, adopting the “my work, my way” mantra only speeds your way to the bottom of the script pile.
Hudson & Gaines
