Stupid F**cking Bird
Aaron
Posner
San
Francisco Playhouse
Prior to
seeing Aaron Posner’s Stupid F**cking
Bird, I revisited
Chekhov’s The Seagull and surprisingly found myself
wanting to laugh at the extreme melancholy, quickness of each character to cry
over any available disappointment, and the seriousness and weight given to most
every interaction. While most
translations and productions of Chekhov do not lead to laughter, Mr. Posner has
taken the classic story and characters, updated them to today, and helped us
close the gap from strictly serious to often hilarious. The storylines of the modern adaptation
and the original are similar as various love-sick characters seek fulfillment
from those not interested in them, as wanna-be’s try to act as if they are
really important, and as natural relationships (like mother and son) are
anything but normal. But in this
version, Mr. Posner pushes each scene and character just a bit beyond the line
that Chekhov has drawn as the limit of expression; and the result is melancholy,
exasperation, and desperation that we can both relate to and laugh at.
As the
family and friends before us stumble through deep questions like ‘What is
love?’, ‘Am I lovable?’, and ‘Is
life even worth the effort?’, we as audience are forced to join in their search
for answers as the fourth wall is broken with requests, even demands, that we
provide input and advice. The
boundaries between written dialogue and real-time conversation are blurred, and
we all become a part of a parody called everyday life that is being played out
before us. What is even more fun
is that the most mundane of answers from audience members are the ones latched
onto by the stage as “Yes, that is the answer.” (For example, when the love-sick Con is seeking advice how
to win the reluctant Nina, some audience members offer serious-sounding,
well-meaning advice while one says, “Buy her a present.” It is the latter that he walks off
supposedly resolved to do.) The
play we are both watching and are in beautifully toys with our tendency as
humans to make mountains out of molehills; to focus on our own individual situations
as the be-all, end-all; and to jump at any possible self-help suggestion that
comes along as the possible, final cure-all.
As the
play continues, Mr. Posner seems to be adding to his parody and the fun by
evoking prime examples of the theatre of the absurd. Our characters spend lots of time in conversations that go
nowhere (“Waiting for Godot”) and appear to be resigned to and trapped in their
life patterns and journeys (“No Exit”), eventually giving in to
less-than-aspired hopes or at least shrugging shoulders as to say, “So maybe
this is as good as it can get.” We
and they begin to have glimpses that there are ironies, miscues, and unresolved
dilemmas in everyday life that maybe we can learn to accept and then just move
on in our own imperfections. The
alternative, as we learn from the suicide-contemplating Con, is not so good. The beauty of this adaption is that we
get permission to laugh at our own screwed-up, everyday, ‘all-important’ lives
rather than just contemplate how bad they really often are (as in Chekhov).
To a
person, this is a fine enough cast, and they act well together as an
ensemble. Bill English’s set, as
always, is inventive, flexible, and appropriately suggestive of a modern
American version of that Russian, country setting of Seagull. Susi
Damilano’s direction suggests both the deliberate, contemplative pace of the
Chekhov original while also flipping at times to the frenetics of people on the
edge of making themselves crazy in their frustrated pursuits of love,
fulfillment, and meaning to life. It does feel that the second half of the play begins to
circle on itself a bit too much and a quicker exit would make the play stronger. That is probably more due to the writer
than the director.
And then
there is a bird (and it is indeed a seagull). Its metaphorical place in Chekhov is given an even more
central role in Posner’s play. The
seagull becomes the reason given for making a tough, life decision. While absurd, it is probably very real
that we all sometimes act in much the same f**king ways as players on the stage
as we look for ways to explain to ourselves and others why we do what we do
during this journey of life.
Rating: 4
E’s
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