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Category: Arts

Reflections: Frankenstein at the National Theatre (via ntlive)

This is theatre of ideas, forcing us into a world scarily similar to our everyday. A world where humans can be reanimated. A world of the uncanny-valley, the creature himself – a collage of flesh and meat – abhorrent less because of how it’s come about and more because of how startlingly human he his, but not so accurate to be an actual man.

This is the creature’s story. A story of longing and loneliness, of bigotry and monsterism.

What if – a man is born fully made, though horrible to look at he is a sympathetic as any new born, what will become of such a man if they are abandoned and left to fend for themselves? Who will they turn too? What will they seek out?

This is the question behind Frankenstein. It is heart breaking in its answers.

Confronted by bigotry and abuse the creature with the wit and intelligence of a man slowly becomes the monster that is his destiny. It’s a tragedy of the worse kind. A tragedy of isolation and abandonment, where the creature’s behaviour is not so much justified, for murder and violence is never justified, as motivated. Indeed, he is all too human in his motivations and in his desires.

And what does he seek? The same as any man, companionship and love. It is through his maker, Frankenstein, that he sees his great hope of achieving this. Frankenstein driven by pride and desire of perfection sees in the creature only his failure. For what has Frankenstein created – certainly not the perfection his was after – no only the human, the real, the commonplace.

Where the abusive relationship between the creature and his maker may be the heart of the drama, the all to easy humanisation of the creature is the mind of it. Why? For in the world of Frankenstein, in every sense, the creature is a person, born in a cradle of filth, spat out onto an unsuspecting citizenry. As a person we must necessarily honour him with all the rights and status of any other. If we have a soul then we must say so does the creature, if we have a mind then so does the creature, if the creature is nothing but muck and filth then so are we.

Monster? Yes. But only in the sense that we are all monsters.

Frankenstein @ The National Theatre

Goto to see the National Theatre in a cinema near you.

Reflections: Agency in The World Jones Made (Philip K. Dick)

Written in 1956 The World Jones Made shows some startling insight into a post apocalyptic 1950s America.

It asks a bold question. If a man can see his personal future as if it was his present, then when he acts is it because he decides to do so or because he was fated. What then is man? At the whim of an unrelenting universal nothing, or a driving force against that.In dramatic terms, agency – that is the action of the characters, their goals, desires, wants – is what drives a story. What keeps it for falling down on itself.

How then does Dick write a character seemingly at the whim of fate so they still have agency?

Jones talks about himself, not as if he knows the future but as if he lives in the future with a foot in the past. Reliving over again stuff he’s already lived as if his life force is displaced one year forward, and his body stuck in the present.

This is problematic. When Jones acts in the present he acts with full knowledge of the future, or at least the next year – in fact he acts only to fulfil what in his mind has already happened. Technically this is not a dramatic action. There is no character agency here, in the sense that a character decides they want something and then chases it.

Jones doesn’t feel like he lives in the present, instead he feels like he lives a year in the future on that edge where the unknown becomes known. As if Jones is a third party voyeur on his own life.

Jones (as voyeur on his future) then does not know what his future self is going to do at any moment to the next – he both becomes aware and lives it at the same time.  Interestingly at some point when his present self catchers up to this moment in time, his present self will have knowledge of the future and will therefore act accordingly, even if that action is merely to fulfil that knowledge of the future.

Jones then must always act as if with full knowledge of the next year of his life. The deeds and actions of his future self will only be those informed by the knowledge of the future his present self will have when he has finally caught up. When Jones peeks on his future, he’s watching a self with knowledge that he does not yet have. A self that will act with this knowledge a self that will act to fulfil a future not yet seen. This then is his agency. A self acting to fulfil an unknown future. Only for Jones this agency is external to his self. Yes, it’s an agency that drives Jones on to ultimate power, but it’s an agency that Jones has no control over. “I don’t know what to do. And the awful part is I don’t have any choice.” (39)

This external agency, out of grasp in some ethereal self, is both acting without any knowledge of the future, and living with full knowledge of the future.

Creating Drama.

Reflections: Diciembre – Teatro en el Blanco @ Brisbane Powerhouse

Diciembre is a near future fable of love, war, patriotic duty and familial love.

Set in not too distant future, Chile is at war with both Bolivia and Peru in a seemingly repeat of the War of the Pacific.

A brother home for Christmas is confronted by his pregnant twin sisters each with their own plans for his future. The older (i think) wants him to fulfil his patriotic duty and kill as many of the opposition as he can, while his younger sister, wants him to run away, flee the army and find refuge in the South.

It’s brave work. Not least because it was not so long under the Regime of Pinochet ago that such a work would not have been possible.