Disclaimer: Sorry if anyone read the unfinished draft of this; pressed "publish" and not "save" and didn't notice for an hour...
I saw Richard III on Friday in the upper balcony. Because, to be honest, sitting as far as I did up above the action took me way out of that action, I won't make a dramaturgical suggestion for one of the suggested four scenes. (Suggestion one: don't have people sit so far above the stage that the tops of the actors' heads are all they can see. It takes the viewer so far out of the production that they're not even practicing theatricality, they're practicing neck-craning.) So instead, I give you: heads on stakes.
(from http://www.halloweencostumesdecorations.com/Products/Uncle%20Al's%20Head%20on%20a%20Stake%20Decoration.html)
(from http://www.tbd.com/blogs/tbd-arts/2010/11/for-washington-shakespeare-company-s-richard-iii-joe-palka-has-his-head-in-his-hands-4635.html)
It's in a bag and not on a stake, but I find it entertaining that apparently in this production, lesbian temptresses kill Hastings. And we thought the IU production's motorcycle leather was edgy!
(From: http://i.dailymail.co.uk/i/pix/2012/06/13/article-2158950-13987FF1000005DC-240_306x423.jpg)
The historical precedent for this kind of thing, in terms of audience reaction, is harder to know about because we can’t exactly ask the townspeople in human history who saw heads on stakes, “So how did you feel when you saw actual heads on stakes?” But given that they may have known the unfortunate decapitated, and known it might be them up there next, one can reasonably assume the affective response was slightly different from that of the audience of Richard III, because….wait for it…the stakes were higher!
Seriously though, what is at stake is a central discussion in pretty much any theoretical treatment of an artwork. We talk about it in poetry workshop all the time, and in fiction workshop, and we talk about it in our performance studies class. I also can’t mention fake heads on stakes in good conscience without mentioning Debord and his work on spectacle, because a fake head on a stake is nothing if not spectacle. But what about a real head on a stake? If it’s not a reproduction, if it’s the “real thing” (which term is problematize-able, but whatever), the stakes are certainly higher. Is part of what makes the spectacle so abhorrent to Debord the fact that so little is “at stake” in the solid, present sense of the term when it’s a reproduction? Is the sacrality of the original manifest in its physicality, it's flesh-and-blood?
Insofar as I understand the role of the dramaturg (read: not tons) I think I'd examine the heads-on-stakes choice by asking what the aim is of having heads be placed on stakes in a way that calls attention to itself, sonically and otherwise, throughout the play. If the aim was to create a sense of movement/transition/rhythm: check. If the aim was to illustrate that this sort of thing was truly done across centuries and continents: not so much, because the motorcycle leather bent of the play upsets the "history lesson" there. If the aim was to implicate the viewer: I'd venture a check. At the end of the day, I think heads on stakes even in their reproductive "spectacle" form create what Phelan might call "a maniacally charged present" because of how visceral the sight of one is, and how implicated we are as viewers: either as someone getting satisfaction from the grisly sight, or as someone whose head might be next.
...also, a week ago, Science Daily published an article about finding Richard III's remains--or what they think might be his remains--and how they were almost destroyed. The timing is too perfect not to mention here.
I saw Richard III on Friday in the upper balcony. Because, to be honest, sitting as far as I did up above the action took me way out of that action, I won't make a dramaturgical suggestion for one of the suggested four scenes. (Suggestion one: don't have people sit so far above the stage that the tops of the actors' heads are all they can see. It takes the viewer so far out of the production that they're not even practicing theatricality, they're practicing neck-craning.) So instead, I give you: heads on stakes.
(from http://www.halloweencostumesdecorations.com/Products/Uncle%20Al's%20Head%20on%20a%20Stake%20Decoration.html)
Banished as I was to the top level seating of IU’s opening show of Richard III, the heads on stakes were some of the only heads I saw, well, head-on. (Prepare yourself. I am taking every punny opportunity I can get.) As the play went on and more fake heads came to hang out on my level, I found myself wondering about the tradition of head-hunting, and the way that tradition has been appropriated in contemporary American popular culture. The above photo, of a product called "Uncle Al's Head on a Stake", interrogates humor in our culture right off the bat. Why is it funnier for it to be "Uncle Al's Head on a Stake", and not just "Head on a Stake"? (There's a "Cousin Bob" one too.) Why is it funny and not gruesome or disturbing to wish grisly death upon that annoying family member? Outside of television shows, is Halloween pretty much the only cultural space in which it's appropriate to "go there" other than the theater in which Richard III is performed?
Last week Gavin
played us the soundbyte the production uses for a murdered character's head being placed on a stake. I found it
appropriately grisly, and was excited to "see" it in action. On Friday’s opening night performance, plenty
of heads had been mounted on stakes by the end of the play, but the sound byte all but one time did not match with the moment the actor mounted the head on the stake. Maybe both the sound
person and actor missed the cue…in any case the grisly sound only matched the
movement once. I wondered for a moment if that may have been intentional--to de-grislify it, maybe? But what would be the point of that? Also, what did the missing-of-the-cue do for the audience in terms of theatricality and remembering themselves during the production? What was the function of the punctuation throughout the production of this particular action, anyway? Because it certainly was a repitition, a punctuation, a sonic one as well as a physical one. (Suggestion two: maximize the effect of the sound byte by having the sound match the movement, or the attention of the audience is on the disconnect and not the awesome grisly sound. Between the metal music during transitions and the American-politics videos playing as people were being seated, there's enough self-awareness going on in this play as it is.)
To illustrate this exploration, I wanted to find a couple more photos for you of heads on stakes on the interwebs. (I started…wait for it….head-hunting.) Behold!
1. Here is Joe Palka, who played Hastings in the 2010 Washington Shakeseare Company's production of Richard III, holding his own character's head in a bag:To illustrate this exploration, I wanted to find a couple more photos for you of heads on stakes on the interwebs. (I started…wait for it….head-hunting.) Behold!
It's in a bag and not on a stake, but I find it entertaining that apparently in this production, lesbian temptresses kill Hastings. And we thought the IU production's motorcycle leather was edgy!
2. In keeping with the production we saw, which included in its pre-show accoutrement the running of Obama and Romney campaign ads, the HBO show Game of Thrones put George W. Bush’s fake head on a stake and then apologized for it and said they didn’t mean to:
3. And to add to the first photo up top, apropos of the holiday that fast approaches, pretty much the
only time it’s acceptable in our culture to have heads on stakes in any of their reproductions
is Halloween:
(from http://www.props-n-frocks.co.uk/prodimages/accessories/halloween/6568.jpg)
To give a sense of just how widespread a practice actual headhunting was (and this surprised me), Wikipedia says: “Headhunting was practised in historic times in parts of Australia, China, India, Nigeria, Nuristan, Bangladesh, Myanmar, Borneo, Indonesia, the Philippines, Taiwan, Japan, Micronesia, Melanesia, New Zealand, Mesoamerica, Southwestern United States and the Amazon Basin, as well as among certain tribes of the Celts, the West Germanic peoples, the Norse[1]and Scythians of ancient Europe. It occurred in Europe until the early 20th century in the Balkan Peninsula and to the end of the Middle Ages in Ireland and the Anglo-Scottish border regions.”
There are several
theoretical directions to go here.
Anthropological communities generally agree that regardless of the era
or place in which it was done, the practice of headhunting reinforced
hierarchical structures the way most ritualized murders did (and, I’d
argue, do). There’s also the creative writing instructor
in me going, “Look, kids! An example of synechdoche! It’s the head standing in for the whole
person!” There’s the fact that the
reaction of an audience to grotesque things is, I think, meant to be somewhere between
disgust and fascination; I don’t think this production would have put heads on
stakes and reveled in a grisly sound byte without knowing it gives the audience
the sort of perverse pleasure Jess mentioned last class session as part of her
reaction to Richard III going around being his evil self.To give a sense of just how widespread a practice actual headhunting was (and this surprised me), Wikipedia says: “Headhunting was practised in historic times in parts of Australia, China, India, Nigeria, Nuristan, Bangladesh, Myanmar, Borneo, Indonesia, the Philippines, Taiwan, Japan, Micronesia, Melanesia, New Zealand, Mesoamerica, Southwestern United States and the Amazon Basin, as well as among certain tribes of the Celts, the West Germanic peoples, the Norse[1]and Scythians of ancient Europe. It occurred in Europe until the early 20th century in the Balkan Peninsula and to the end of the Middle Ages in Ireland and the Anglo-Scottish border regions.”
The historical precedent for this kind of thing, in terms of audience reaction, is harder to know about because we can’t exactly ask the townspeople in human history who saw heads on stakes, “So how did you feel when you saw actual heads on stakes?” But given that they may have known the unfortunate decapitated, and known it might be them up there next, one can reasonably assume the affective response was slightly different from that of the audience of Richard III, because….wait for it…the stakes were higher!
Seriously though, what is at stake is a central discussion in pretty much any theoretical treatment of an artwork. We talk about it in poetry workshop all the time, and in fiction workshop, and we talk about it in our performance studies class. I also can’t mention fake heads on stakes in good conscience without mentioning Debord and his work on spectacle, because a fake head on a stake is nothing if not spectacle. But what about a real head on a stake? If it’s not a reproduction, if it’s the “real thing” (which term is problematize-able, but whatever), the stakes are certainly higher. Is part of what makes the spectacle so abhorrent to Debord the fact that so little is “at stake” in the solid, present sense of the term when it’s a reproduction? Is the sacrality of the original manifest in its physicality, it's flesh-and-blood?
Insofar as I understand the role of the dramaturg (read: not tons) I think I'd examine the heads-on-stakes choice by asking what the aim is of having heads be placed on stakes in a way that calls attention to itself, sonically and otherwise, throughout the play. If the aim was to create a sense of movement/transition/rhythm: check. If the aim was to illustrate that this sort of thing was truly done across centuries and continents: not so much, because the motorcycle leather bent of the play upsets the "history lesson" there. If the aim was to implicate the viewer: I'd venture a check. At the end of the day, I think heads on stakes even in their reproductive "spectacle" form create what Phelan might call "a maniacally charged present" because of how visceral the sight of one is, and how implicated we are as viewers: either as someone getting satisfaction from the grisly sight, or as someone whose head might be next.
...also, a week ago, Science Daily published an article about finding Richard III's remains--or what they think might be his remains--and how they were almost destroyed. The timing is too perfect not to mention here.
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