Absurd. That’s a word you don’t hear too much
anymore, and when you do it usually serves to mock an overly critical (and
usually overly British) person. That
being the case I did not know what to expect when I went to see my first “absurdist”
play this weekend – Harold Pinter’s “The Birthday Party.”
The show, directed by Matt Davis and staring
many of the finest actors the UA Theater department has to offer, was an
absolutely gorgeous piece of art and I could go on for hours about how
incredible every single piece of the production was. However, since we don’t have hours, I shall
stick to discussing this production (and absurdism in general) instead of
reviewing it.
When I first heard of the term
“absurdism” I immediately thought of abstract art with color, shapes, and
movement that, while often beautiful, followed no kind of linear thinking. While that might be the template of some
absurdist pieces, “The Birthday Party” showed me that sometimes everyday life
can be frighteningly close to absurdism.
In fact, every single piece of “The Birthday Party” was fairly ordinary
and made sense on its own, given a different context. However, what made this show so hauntingly
absurd, is that there is no context, and the pieces, while simple, don’t quite
fit together.
I say “haunting” because that is
honestly the best way I can describe this show.
It definitely wasn’t scary, not like a monster is scary. One could call it creepy, like a psychopath
is creepy. But most of all its haunting,
like a sad ghost who warns you that there is evil in the world, and then weeps
at your inability to see it. However, aside from haunted, there
are a multitude of other emotions that come from seeing “The Birthday Party.” Most of the people who I talked to about the
show used the term “uncomfortable” because the writer draws out strong emotions
and then gives the audience nowhere to put them as he offers no closure. However, I didn’t feel uncomfortable as much
as intrigued. I spent the entire show trying
to force the pieces together. Obviously
I was not successful, for the show was built to not fit, but to me that made
the experience even grander because it means that my mind can continue milling
over this unsolvable puzzle for days.
From an actor’s perspective I can
only imagine that an absurdist play would be dauntingly difficult to perform because
most the written lines are utterly devoid of context, and yet you must play it
as if it’s as natural as can be. In
fact, I would call that the cardinal rule of absurdism: nobody’s allowed to
notice how absurd their lives actually are.
Every moment is played honestly and with absolute devotion, and it is
only from outside that the true absurdity is visible.
Watching an absurdist piece is no
picnic either. The casual observer will
quickly become confused and dismiss the show as pointless and idiotic. Instead, the audience member, like the actor,
must completely commit and follow the story down every rabbit hole, regardless
of what absurdity lies at the bottom.
The audience must not allow themselves to get hung up on tiny
inconsistencies, but instead accept that they will never understand everything.
But whether you’re observing a
world of absurdity or performing within it, I can imagine no greater reward
than reaching the end of an absurd production.
Of course, by “end” I don’t mean that an absurdist play need have
anything resembling closure, indeed, “The Birthday Party” ended without
answering any questions. But when the
performance stopped, I didn’t feel emptiness, in fact I felt exactly opposite. I left the theater feeling like I’d been
given a gift, but one that required more than simple reception. To fully appreciate this gift I had to give
time meditating on it. But every second
I sacrificed in thought was well spent.
For while I couldn’t put a put a price on such an experience, I can
assure you that its value is, well, absurd.
