Blog Post #11 (Justin): This is not a 'full-fledged semiotic crisis'

This morning I had a discussion with my students in Introduction to Theater concerning the IU Department of Theatre and Drama’s recent production of When the Rain Stops Falling and the performers’ use of physical and vocal choices in the performance. One student was particularly struck by one of the actor’s use of his necktie and shirt tails as a means to express a nervous emotional state. By fidgeting with his garments, the actor’s gestures indicated the guilt his character was experiencing during a particularly challenging moment of the play. The student’s comment motivated me to briefly speak about costumes and how they do not just serve to dress a character according to period or to associate the individual to related characters (think West Side Story and “when you’re a Jet you’re a Jet”). Importantly, costumes can also serve as stage props and give actors items to ‘fiddle with’ in order to denote emotional state, as the student had noticed. This is akin to Sofer’s early remark suggesting that “the prop’s impact is mediated…by the gestures of the individual actor who handles the object” (61). Likewise, this particular example (the anxious tweaking of a tie and shirt) fulfills Sofer’s other supposition that a “prop’s impact is mediated…by the horizon of interpretations available to historically situated spectators at a given time” (61). To understand the adjustment of such clothing as an indicator of nervous tension, it helps if one is acquainted with such articles of clothing and knows how to read those garments as being worn and used ‘properly.’ Sofer sums up the effect a prop can have on the minds of the audience when he states, “The prop springs to life as much in the imagination of spectators as in the hands of actors or the words of the playwright” (61).



Actors Anne Dudek and Doug Hara (photo from michiganavemag.com)

 

I was reminded of the aforementioned teaching moment because of the image I selected for today’s blog post: a publicity still taken for a revival at Lookingglass Theatre of Mary Zimmerman’s Metamorphoses. I am drawn to this photo not because of the candelabra held by the actress (the obvious stage prop in the image), but due to the bright pair of wings worn by the nude blindfolded actor lying by the pool of water. I hesitated to choose the image because I would traditionally categorize such an item as a ‘costume.’ But these wings have adopted a stage life much like the props discussed by Sofer. I attended a lecture given by Zimmerman several years ago where she discussed the various design elements deployed in her shows, noting a habit of recycling elements from one show to another. This habit was not born out of a larger metatheatrical statement she wished to express or a particular affection for specific items, but was due to economic necessity: theater budgets are small and one has to do what one can to stay within a set limit. Despite these initial pragmatic reasons, the practice has taken on special meaning for Zimmerman. The wings from Metamorphoses are a case in point, as a subsequent show required a use of dirty unkempt wings to appear on stage and she could not resist recycling the Metamorphoses pair. Zimmerman noted how she had grown attached to the beautiful white wings and found herself excited to see them on stage again, although now mangled and ugly as if abused by time. They were a happy reminder of a previous success. Such ‘ghosting’ appears in many guises in theatrical work and is nicely summarized by Sofer, “[Marvin] Carlson reminds us that spectators bring associations from previous productions with them to the theater, and that these ‘ghosts’ color their experience of the current performance” (63). Although Sofer’s work calls attention to the ghosts that theater audiences may notice or imagine, Mary Zimmerman’s wings are an indication of how ghosts may appear for the artists creating the work.