Flux Theatre Ensemble

By August Schulenburg

By August Schulenburg

"...but there are some ideals we cannot relinquish; there are some dreams that we won’t let go. The ideal that every human being has a right to peace, freedom, and creative self-expression; the ideal that every community is sustained by that creative self-expression; and the dream of a global stage where the stories of those communities are freely exchanged; we hold onto these things, because without them, theatre has no meaning.

Because theatre does not exist in opposition to Facebook and Twitter; theatre is not in competition with television or film: all of these forms, old and new, are in service to the expression of the human spirit. When Twitter helps spark a revolution against an oppressive regime, that is a victory for theatre..."

"If we look forward to 50 years from now, we will see this period as a precursor to a time when physics is totally reformulated in the language of holography," he says. "Once the theory is properly fleshed out, we will be able to apply it to almost any problem."

"The traditional one-way vertical relationship from the mass media to the audience does not exist anymore. Indeed, the whole notion of audience does not exist anymore, as users are now taking an active role in the creating and distribution of media."

(Photo: Isaiah Tanenbaum. Pictured: Joshua Koopman)

(Photo: Isaiah Tanenbaum. Pictured: Mike Mihm, Raushanah Simmons)

Will Lowry's set (a map of the area covered by sand, broken concrete blast walls) and Kia Roger's lighting are superb, as is Asa Wember's sound design.

(Photo: Isaiah Tanenbaum. Pictured: Mike Mihm)

Back in the day, Backstage was our first major reviewer, positively reviewing both Life is a Dream and A Midsummer Night's Dream when not many other critics were coming our way. Then, there was a long, dry, spell after the Angel Eaters Trilogy, and though they interviewed us for Jacob's House, we haven't been reviewed by them since 2008.

Happily, that spell is over, broken by a well-written review from Clifford Lee Johnson III. Like Jon Sobel, he finds that the dual stories and diversity of voices get in each others way, derailing the play's momentum. Additionally, he finds the play's earnestness to be problematic, a refrain noted by OffOffOnline (I'll be posting that tomorrow). Finally, he feels the play hits the "war is very bad" note too simplistically. All of these worthwhile thoughts deserve some consideration.

I can definitely see how for some, the ceaseless curiosity of the play's interrogation of the war, moving as it does across time, space and character with passing regard for traditional narrative, might feel like momentum wasted rather than conceptual territory gained.

However, much of the dual stories overlap each other, quite literally. The tension of A.J.s blood-discovery scene is enhanced by sharing the stage with Ajax's self-same scene. The play is a collision of two stories, until, in their final moments, they move effortlessly, almost as one. My guess is that the two stories don't actually get in each others way; but rather, that feeling of obstruction comes from the detours the plot makes elsewhere. What do you think?

I'm also less certain about the play's earnestness. The nature of direct address can create the illusion of honesty between character and audience, but that is dependent upon the reliability of the character. Athena is not exactly a trustworthy guiding deity for a play; indeed, she promises at the beginning she won't make us go into the tent, and then brings the horrors of that tent into our laps. Because she presides over the play, the devil is given its due, and as much time is spent with the horrors of war, an equal amount of time is spent dealing with the pleasures of cruelty.

This is one of the fascinating things about the responses to the play thus far: the gleeful pleasure of Ajax in his madness, the beauty of the Kali invocation, the power of the Haka dance, the seduction of the mud creatures dream, and the uneasy nightmare sequences of the red torture tent (the voices in the dark) and the NVG goggles scene; all of these moments in the play where the power of letting cruelty into your mind and the pleasure of inflicting harm on others; somehow, those scenes may be landing less forcefully than the scenes where the consequences of cruelty are dealt with. This may simply be a product of where these scenes fall in the narrative sequence, or it may mean I did not stage them clearly or forcefully enough (though they are some of the scenes I'm proudest of).

Suffice to say, I think calling this play earnest misses its deeper ironies. War is more than just very bad in Ajax in Iraq; it is also deeply, troublingly human, and like all of our darker human impulses, there is a profound pleasure in giving into it.

Finally, while the play does clearly feel that "war is very bad", there is nothing simple about that feeling. The horrors of war are multi-faceted and complex, and the play does not short change them. For example, war may be bad, but many soldiers miss the sense of purpose and belonging when they return home, and so come back for multiple tours. That is not a simple thing, and it's just one of the many Gordian knots the play wrestles with about the soldier's experience. Cumulatively, the sense of the play is that "war is very bad", but it is in the precise details of what exactly makes it so that gives Ajax in Iraq it's power.

Or at least, that's what I think. It may be that the onslaught of ideas and images in the play, when viewed at a single sitting, resolve from complexity and irony into the more straightforward experience Johnson describes. What was your experience of the dual stories, complexity, moral ambiguity and ironies of the play? Paella or broth?

There also some lovely positive quotes about the play, and I share this:

Lori E. Parquet brings fire and fear to Tecmessa, Ajax's war bride, making her an individual we understand despite the vast span of time and culture between us. Tiffany Clementi's brief scene as an agonized wife who no longer understands or loves her traumatized husband eloquently brings home the cost of war to the families of veterans. And Mike Mihm humanizes his Odysseus, allowing him to be as appalled by Athena's actions as we are.

(Photo: Isaiah Tanenbaum. Pictured: Sol Crespo, Lori E Parquet, Chinaza Uche, Tiffany Clementi, Mike Mihm, Chudney Sykes)

Aeschylus and Sophocles were gentlemen soldiers – both are reputed to have come from the Attic nobility where everyone knew everyone else and reputation was everything. McLaughlin, on the other hand, is writing about a modern army made up of mostly working class volunteers who fight and die for infinitely more abstract notions of patriotism and duty.

This is an open thread for our community of artists and audience to respond to Ajax in Iraq. We have tried this for Dog Act, The Lesser Seductions of History and Jacob's House, and the comments were very insightful. When you see the show, please take a moment to share your thoughts with us in the comments field below.

A few rules of the game: this is a safe space, so while respectful criticism is as welcome as joyful praise, snark and hostility are not. A good rule of thumb is simply to write things you'd feel comfortable saying face to face. While you can choose to post as anonymous, we encourage you to take ownership of your thoughts.

Our sincere thanks, and see you at the theatre! Read the full story

(Learn more about Ajax in Iraq)
By August Schulenburg

(Photo by Tiffany Clementi)

The Sunday stumble-through, as might be expected, was both invigorating and exasporating. Invigorating, because the actors did a remarkable job of making it through this complex staging while still staying engaged with each other and present in the scenes. This is not only testament to their work ethics individually, but to the strong bond they already seem to be developing, which - for a play about soldiers - is essential.

Exasporating, becase we simply don't have rehearsal spaces that aproximate anywhere near the size of CSV-Flamboyan, our performance space. Judson thankfully comes close, but as this was our first day in such a space, there was a lot of confusion of exact placement. For some plays, this isn't a huge problem, but for a play with this many simultaneously moving parts, it may be our greatest challenge.

The run-through did reveal the two scenes I'm having the most trouble with: the Debbie/Athena and Larry/Judy/Fletcher scenes. Four of these five characters we've never met before and won't ever meet again, and we're intoduced to them at the moment of the narrative's maximum tension, where AJ's and Ajax's fate hangs in the balance. Why do we stop that action to hear from these characters at this exact moment?

On an intellectual level, I understand the meaning of the scenes - Debbie reinforces the centrality of the soliders' bond, and L/J/F expand the frame to take in the homecoming soliders recieve. Still, I didn't know why - or didn't know how to feel why - those scenes appear where they do. Without that vicseral understanding, I was unable to find a staging that felt right.

After the run, however, I recieved some good notes from our dramaturg, Heidi Nelson; and had a great conversation with Heather Cohn about those troublesome scenes. Sometimes, the best way into understanding a scene is not what it means, but how it moves and what it looks like; and trying various stagings can unlock the inevitability of a scene in a way intellectual discussion simply can't.

I'd wanted to make these two scenes feel surprising but inevitable - to emerge from the fabric of the play as a stretch, but not a tear - and to return to the central action of the narrative feeling like we hadn't lost momentum or changed direction, but simply expanded the frame hurtling towards collision or transformation.

The key was the cots. Throughout the play we visit the women's barracks, but peripherally - they are on the outskirts of our attention as some other action plays out. They are critical set pieces, but had never taken center stage. To that end, Heather suggested that the action of the play proper might continue, with soldiers/Chorus using the cots to build some fortification, when the power of the cots strcuk me as the answer.

The L/J/F scene takes us to Boston, in or around the New England Shelter for Homeless Veterans. I'd been thinking that the three monlogues of Larry, Judy, and Fletcher were seperate (as indeed they are), and therefore staged them each taking a different third of the audience, almost off the stage; as distant from the stage as the scene felt distant from the action of the play.

But what if we brought the cots on stage and transformed it into the Homeless Shelter? This not only solved a hundred smaller challenges, both in this scene and the play at large, but opened up a lot of new possibilities. I can't share them all - after all, I want you to see the play and not just read about it - but this was one of those marvelous cases where a simple rearrangement of the physical space completely solved problems that felt distinct from the set, and seemed beyond my reach.

Theatre lives in four dimenions, so that is where the solutions can be found.

Or maybe not - because we'll work this scene for the first time tonight. Cross your fingers!

And while they're crossed - why not get your tickets? We only have 10 of the discounted rate left...

Join us on May 16 for ForePlay #1

New World Iliads: Iraq

(Learn more about Ajax in Iraq)

By August Schulenburg

Yesterday, I was in the throws of a nasty cold, and miserable at work. I couldn't believe rehearsals for Ajax in Iraq were beginning and I was feeling so much like a wet dog.

Then rehearsals started, and can you guess how often I noticed feeling sick? Exactly once less than once. Sometimes, the only reminder needed of why we do this thing is doing it.

The first rehearsal did not feature the customary read-through. Because of actor and designer conflicts, I decided to abandon that tradition and try to rough block the play in the first week for a run through on Sunday. On the negative side, this means we don't have the base of sitting around the table and hearing the play once together, and I keenly felt that loss last night.

However, these artists were worth the conflicts, and with a play like this, seeing a rough shape to it within the first week is going to be invaluable.

We began with the Charles, Pisoni and Sergeant scene, and began discovering some really interesting dynamics between the three of them. Why does the Sergeant allow them to be so casual with him? How often does he pull that invitation back? Have Charles and Pisoni come to discuss what just happened in the women's tent? And how close does the Sergeant come to really spilling his secret? It's a short scene, but full of questions.

Ajax in Iraq is a play that frequently tosses aside naturalism to explore its themes and questions in a more theatrically visceral way. That's true for the next scene we worked on, Common Practice (I title all the scenes). It follows two unnamed soldiers we never meet again, (> and - in the script) dealing with the fall out of one of them going too far in an interrogation. The scene seems to emerge from Athena's boast to us that she can turn on cruelty within us as easily as flicking a switch, but the scene is more complex than that.

Today, Ellen and I had a great talk about how in control Athena is of the play's journey. I was particularly excited that she - as an immortal being - might present a scene to us with the intention it serve one purpose, and then miss the true human reality we experience. It's simply not available to her - she doesn't pick up that wavelength.

To that end, we moved the scene away from > clearly being a villain, and invested in the idea that he and - were close. That fraying friendship gave this surprisingly short scene a detailed richness, especially for characters we never meet again, and barely see in the darkness. Part of this is Ellen's writing, which conjure about two subtly distinct voices from those we've heard before; part was seeing Chinaza and Josh switch gears so well from their Sergeant/Charles dynamic.

Finally, we worked on the present day past of I'm Ashamed Of Myself, a scene that plays out in Iraq as well as Troy. This scene needed more time, and coming at the end of the play as it does, I felt again the challenge of working out of order this way. But we did lay some useful groundwork to exploring the dynamic between A.J. and Connie. Connie's need to understand the choices that A.J. makes in the war are a big part of what drives the play - the human equivalent to Athena's curiosity without empathy - and this scene is Connie's last chance to alter that fate. As with many Greek plays, we need to find a balance between inevitability and hope.

There's a lot more to write, but wouldn't you know, it's time for rehearsal. I'll try to post these as often as I can as the process progresses. Read the full story

(What is The Wider Frame?)

A play that deals so directly with our current Iraq war can't help but be seen in the context of a wider frame. In producing Ajax in Iraq, we must do justice not only to the play itself, but to subject matter of the play, the lives of the soldiers serving in our two wars. But there are other exciting frames to this dazzling and complex play.

We'll share these frames through blog posts and pre/post show speakers and conversations. Here is a list of some possibilities - if this sparks an idea for a pre-show event, post-show speaker, or blog feature, please email me at gus at fluxtheatre dot org, or make a note in the comments.