Dramaturgy is Good for Kids:Ian Garrett @ Edfringe 2015

Yuffa Fringe presents 
Nudity, Free Beer, Good for Kids, 

a shameless scheme with prizes to get you to Venue 13 

Toronto/Edinburgh - Nudity, Free Beer, Good for Kids (NFBGFK), is a high energy commentary on the Fringe free market and how to create a show using the three best selling strategies: Nudity, Free Beer, Good for Kids. The show includes car chases, prophet cows, spir0t animal foxes, and one show stopping musical number. The title is the description is a promise  NFBGFK runs from 11:20, Saturday, August 8, 2015 to Saturday August 29, 2015 at Venue 13 on Lochend Close, just 50m past Canongate Kirk on the Royal Mile. 

Iis a competition between three rival groups, vying to be the ones to put on their fringe show, Farmhand Joey, their own way… with Nudity, Free Beer, and Good for Kids. The audience are our investors sitting in on the first previews. Each investor has the opportunity to invest in the group they want to win. The scores will be tallied at the end of the night and prizes awarded to the winning cast and investors. The show is partially scripted and partially improvised anew each night, but NFBGFK guarantees fun for all. 



The Fringe

What inspired this production: did you begin with an idea or a script or an object?
Ian Garrett: The inspiration was something that I heard in a class I took about PR, in which the instructor threw out a comment about how the three things that always sell are nudity, free beer (or any alcohol), and if something is good for kids. He said you'd be set if you could work all three into one show. So I proposed we try and exploit everything we know about marketing, public relations, and all gimmicks to make as fun a show as possible.

Why bring your work to Edinburgh?
For me it's my eighth year bringing shows, and my 31st show (plus the Sustainable Practice Award). So, part of it is that I feel very comfortable in Edinburgh. I love both trying to get people see shows in the sea of content that is the Fringe's free market economy, and I love that it's also an opportunity to see so much work and (hopefully) be in conversation with it.

What can the audience expect to see and feel - or even think - of your production?

Fun. This show is going to be a lot of Fun. I hope that we'll communicate some idea about the absurdity of how marketing and PR manipulates an audience... but, it's all tongue in check and a lot of fun. 

As long as they don't regret coming. I mean, the only place I've ever been offended by a show "wasting" my time is in Edinburgh, when I could have seen a hundred other things. So, i don't want them to think that or that they'd be better off getting a sandwich (that's from a review I got a few years back).

The Dramaturgy Questions

 How would you explain the relevance - or otherwise - of dramaturgy within your work?
Well, insofar as dramaturgy equals research, it's a bit of everything. I prefer work to have a great deal of integrity, so I take a nearly academic approach to devising work. Something about loading moments with meaning so that there is as much informing a show as possible.

Of course, sometimes my worry is that I get too deep into knowing a piece, and lose sight of what someone will get from it without having done a bunch of homework. But, I think that's the trick of the type of work I like to make: How do you load as much information as possible into a drama, but then turn that into something somatic or visceral that doesn't require a bunch of notes or exposition.

What particular traditions and influences would you acknowledge on your work - have any particular artists, or genres inspired you and do you see yourself within their tradition?
Though I don't think it's as evident in this piece, I think that Richard Foreman has been a big influence. I had a chance to work with him on an opera once, and the process of developing it, though really done in his mind and not as an ensemble, is really interesting. I think the Wooster Group's use of media, pop culture and then collage is influential... even if I'm not a huge fan of their work in recent years. I like a bit of verbatim theatre. I really appreciate the work of TEAM, which has been a fringe darling... and the physical work of Gecko and Theatre Infinitum.

But, I think the biggest influence is the collaborative design process

actually. I don't know what to call this, but I'm trained as a designer at the heart of things. First as an Architect, then in Performance. In that process, you essentially have a brief that you're trying to solve. Sometimes it's a community centre with accessible bathrooms, but sometimes it's about how to talk about the lose of memory and identity due to aging. 

So I would list some architects here. Someone like Peter Eisenman, and the way he let's site and history influence his design is a key influence. Design and Theorist Bruce Mau as well as folks like Rem Koolhas, Sanford Kwinter and media god father Marshall Mcluhan shape my world view.

But, not to be stuck in an Ivory tower, i probably owe as much to Improv comedy. My wife went through the conservatory at Second City, and I grew up around a lot of comedians and sketch performers due to my parents' jobs. So I think my dramaturgical approach is somewhere between critical theory, contemporary performance techniques and improv comedy... The Builder's Association I think gets somewhere in here... anyway I don't know how I end up entertaining anyone but myself!
Do you have a particular process of making that you could describe - where it begins, how you develop it, and whether there is any collaboration in the process?
We sort of know what we want to do thematically. I tend to come in with lots of content that works towards a collage of sorts. We see how that inspires text, or movement, or the design and work it through as an idea that we can embody on stage. 

All of these stems come together and we try to develop these around our desired narrative or thematic arc, the guide to pull the audience through the story or the idea. And then we work work work. Part of this is just getting it on it's feet, part of this is working with outside eyes and a dedicated editor and/or writer to form it into something on a page. And then work it.

What do you feel the role of the audience is, in terms of making the meaning of your work?
For this show, everything. This is pretty clearly a gimmick.. but intentionally and to reveal that it is that thing. Also, that these things, these gimmicks for getting people in are all around. To some extent, it will require the audience's attendance and attention to inform that (hopefully humorously). 

So it's meta in that way... but self-aware that we're trying to manipulate the audience, and that we're in this together. We're going to have a good time with each other... and if you don't, we'll at least buy you a drink.

Are there any questions that you feel I have missed out that would help me to understand how dramaturgy works for you?
How is this show different from others? Maybe. This is almost about getting out all the sillies after all of the shows I've done in Edinburgh. After bringing work in earnest to be considered. Sometimes it works out, though more often it doesn't. And I always wonder about how one cracks the code. 

So in some ways this is about throwing all of the effort into what gets an audience to see something, as opposite to trying to be sneaky about it. So I'm really excited with this process since it's not just about dramaturgy and devising around an idea, but all of the benign manipulation of how you then convince someone to see the show is there and integrated right into the show.

NFBGFK also has an online component to let people play along from anywhere (no beer though). In the online version you will be able to vote for your favourite competitors from the comfort of your home or the convenience of your mobile device! Are you now or have you ever been a kid? You’ll love Team Good For Kids! Do you like foxy ladies? You sound like the Team Nudity type! Have you purchased anything from anywhere, ever? You’ll appreciate Team Free Beer! 

This is Yuffa’s second year at the Fringe. Last year was the inaugural year of Yuffa Fringe. In 2014 they brought their show Victims of Influence, an original and devised piece that took a feminist perspective on the Frankenstein story, looking at what makes a woman monstrous in today’s society. The Mumble gave Victims of Infuence  5 Stars, saying: “ This is a brilliantly executed piece of theatre, with gripping physical movements pulsating through an excellently written script.” And, the Scotsman called the performance, “Energetic and committed”. 

The show is being performed at Venue 13, which promotes emerging and established talent at the Edinburgh Fringe. Run from Cardiff, it features work and artists from Wales, the UK and further afield, particularly the US and Canada. For the last 11 years, Venue 13 has been proud to be the Edinburgh home of CalArts (California Institute of the Arts) Festival Theatre.

Yuffa Fringe is supported by York University in Toronto, Canada and gives students and alumni the ability to bring new work to Edinburgh each year. 

The show opens at 11:20 on Saturday August 8, 2015. The show runs 6 days a week, with no performances on Tuesdays. Venue 13 is closed on Monday, August 17. This show will also be taking part of the 2 for 1 discount on Monday August 10th  

Tickets will be sold at £8 for General Admission with £6 concessions. 

More Nudity and More Berger

There has been another bout of nudity in performance. Slope, a very fine look at the tangled mess of French poet Verlaine's love-life, featured the protagonist and antagonist rolling around in the skud, and I saw the lot. I felt quite insecure at the quality of my own physique in the aftermath. 

Old Thoughts on Nudity in Theatre - Still Vaguely Interesting, I am surprised to note

I did not understand quite why Anti-Christ upset cinephiles with its explicit violence and apparent misogyny. Anti-Christ is a movie, and protects its cast with the same trickery as TV does for Derren Brown and 1930s radio for ventriloquists. Hanging out on the cabaret and Live Art scenes, I regularly cheer along as real people pull things out of orifices, cut themselves, run about naked and drink blood. It’s a shame that The Daily Mail lacks an adventurous reporter: then they could have some real “BAN THIS FILTH” headlines. 

The place of nudity in live performance is contested. In Nic Green’s Trilogy, there is a great deal of female nudity that has worried some critics, especially in an avowedly feminist work. And in burlesque, does the majority presence of women as promoters and performers, audience and advocates really avoid the accusations of exploitation? Regulars at Tramway might be disappointed if they go home from a Belgian production without some flash of flesh, but does the status of art protect it from the censorship that governs other media? 

In Trilogy, the nudity is framed so that it deliberately anti-pornographic: similarly in burlesque, the stripping is justified by comedy and rhetoric of self-esteem and inclusion. These could be mere fig-leaves of distraction, hiding the more fundamental tensions that emerge when sexuality and society collide. 

Of course, these productions are aimed at adults, aside from the occasional absurd piece of programming as at Latitude, when Fancy Chance was booked into a daytime slot. It is telling, however, that Chance didn't perform her usual routines in front of the liberal parents and their untamed toddlers. And in London, burlesque nights are being expected to have the same licence as lap-dance clubs, a clear sign that for some bureaucrats, there is little difference. 

Inevitably, I defend the right of performers to undress, even cut themselves on stage. There might be the odd director or actor who is indulging their own exhibitionism, voyeurism or aggressive need to control, but to legislate against them is to exclude those who use nudity as a strategy to provoke and expose. 

At Itsy’s Kabaret, Empress Shah did two acts that could reasonably described as self-harm: pouring molten wax on her stomach and inject a syringe into her arm. Despite the polish and finesse, which distracted from the brutality of these actions, they were part of a serious and profound comment on the nature of passion. When she toasted the audience with her own blood in a champagne glass, it had the symbolic intensity of a nightmare, and nailed the self-destruction that lurks behind so much romanticism.  

Nic Green, on the other hand, takes any erotic bite out of nudity, celebrating the body as shameless: some of the scenes in Bloody Town Hall are all the more innocent because the actors are naked. And many burlesquers recapture a charming sensuality, removing striptease from harsh commercialism and re-inventing it as humorous and sincere. I wouldn’t defend nudity purely on the grounds of its lack of eroticism, however. Nightshade, a production by Victoria that paired strippers and contemporary choreographers encouraged a sexual response, which made the accompanying messages - which varied from critiquing the male gaze through to more direct associations of eroticism with vulnerability or exploitation -  more immediate.  

Theatre can’t use its isolation as an excuse: performance happens in, and impacts upon society. But frankly, when the internet has such an exotic selection of material, and my local newsagent has two rows of magazines that boast SEX HUNGRY BABES, attacking the liberal arts is always going to be a token gesture. Sexual content does have a habit of warping perspectives, which is why it is so valuable as a strategy but also why the debate around it is frequently ill-informed or self-justification masquerading as reason. The relationships between the body, sexuality, consumerism, feminism and social values are endlessly fascinating, and it seems utterly appropriate that performance wants to map them. It does a far better job of it than philosophy or tabloid editors.

Get Naked (Only Keep Your Clothes On)

Forgive me the heresy, but female nudity, on stage, is boring.

Once upon a time, I supported art that involved naked bodies, blood letting, rough treatment of the audience, anything that bellowed against the complacency of theatre that was predominantly aimed at the middle classes. I was bored by the script - it has been the foundation of British theatre for too long - disappointed by "new writing" and saw in the Live Art habit of using the body to shock a hope for performance that carried on the tradition of vital, energetic theatre that had produced art that got off the stage and took various debates forward.

I even encouraged burlesque in the hope that it would liven up the stage, and bring new ways of exploring sexuality and gender to public attention. That hope is largely lost, although Cherry Loco always impresses me, and Boy in a Dress is as unashamed of its burlesque roots as it is of its post-modern philosophy. And Lashings of Ginger Beer Time, although they languish in the same semi-professional state as much early cabaret, have a clear, bracing, political intensity.

But after Ther Fringe 2012, I am ready to reject nudity and all its meanings. At least, for a couple of months, until it finds a new meaning beyond being a signifier for emotional honesty. I might even be persuaded to support actual censorship if it encourages directors to stop telling actresses to get their tits out for the good of the play. They might have to think of creative ways to signify important moments.

And yes, I am using the word "actress", even though "actor" has been used as gender neutral for a while. I picked it because it is female nudity that is the standard.

The Shit is a great place to start: scathing attack on Italian society, performed by a nude woman. And there is one moment - at the end - when her nudity is important, when she covers herself in a flag. Yes, throughout the recitation, her body is present, to be examined, just like it is the subject of the examination of those the heroine wishes to impress. Yes, the audience is implicated by performing a male gaze exactly like those who are the villains of the piece. But does the audience acknowledge this?

Discussions about the use of nudity inevitably refer to other performers whp have bared all for their art. Karen Finlay, Ann Liv Young, Annie Sprinkle: all women. There are plenty of tits out in theatre, but the cock tends to remain holstered.

Any meaningful presentation of the female nude in theatre has been lost: last year's mostly wonderful Hotel Medea had the completely unnecessary appearance of a Greek army in motorcycle helmets and breasts beared. Since a huge point in any version of Medea is the tension between the masculine Greek world and the feminine East - Euripides' version takes this further by contrasting Medea's often female deities against Jason's male gods - this display of hooters was not only distracting, it undermined a central theme.

Interestingly, the version of Hotel Medea at Latitude had the breasts covered, possibly because there might have been children present or it was outside in the cold. The scene lost nothing.

For the record, Jason's crew were not Amazons: Hotel Medea focuses on exactly the gender conflict that Euripides made so crucial. It gains credibility, however, for the reveal of Medea's brother's penis. Equal opportunity nudity can soften the blow.

For another Italian example, I am Son had a topless woman. Thanks to a mask, her gender was not clear at first, but when she came on stage to receive applause , the sudden  appearance of a t-shirt was a reminder that male and female toplessness are not equal. In neither performance was nudity meant to titillate, but it is clearly a choice, and a choice that has implications for the reception of the performance.

There is something here about the difference between what is seen as "real" on stage, and what is "performed". That's a topic for another rant.

Finally, SexLifeis a short two-hander, staged inside what appears to be a peepshow booth. The plot is simple - it is only twenty minutes long. A couple, after the birth of their first child, find their sex life is dull. In an atempt to spice things up, the husband turns up dressed like Tom Curry out of The Rocky Horror Picture Show. It's played for laughs, and it is only when the wife drops her robe that real sexual content returns to the couple. Here, the reveal of the female body, which has been discussed throughout, and mostly in negatibe terms, signifies eroticism. Some bloke in suspenders is a clumsy parody of real eroticism.

Although the reason for defending nudity is easy to explain - essentially, restrictions on what can be shown inhibit artistic expression and besides, it assumes that the body is vulgar and needs to be hidden - the same freedom of expression is not even handed and runs the risk of obscuring the true power of nudity in search of a simple signifier. Ironically, nudity on stage strips the body of its innate power. The meaning of nakedness replaces the nakedness itself.

Furthermore, it is predominantly female. Since the female body has an extra area that is supposed to be covered, the cock seems to be far too serious to be let out on stage: breasts are commonplace, the vagina is rarer but the cock is invisible. The naked body is not necessarily the only erotic strategy - the best burlesque relies on suggestion, and the boys in La Clique Royale are sexual because of their whole physicality, not because they whip off their pants. But as long as female nudity is more prevalent than male, the theatre is playing into the same value system that makes Page Three acceptable.

Of course, I have no answers: I am lucky that this is a blog and I don't have to conclude my analysis. All of these examples are from engaging, informed performances (if they want a rating, they are probably all four star shows. See my earlier posts for a few thoughts on that particular part of the critic-performer relationship). I just have a general sense that the use of nudity on stage has become lazy... although I have just remembered that there was a cock in Vanishing Point's Saturday Night.