December 12, 2014

A live American theater on your library bookshelf

Posted in Uncategorized tagged , , , , , , , at 11:29 am by chuckredman

I’m no authority on American drama, having seen far too little good drama on the stage, and having only scratched the surface of what’s available in print. I’ve always thought, for some reason, that Arthur Miller, Eugene O’neill, and Tennessee Williams were the Big Three, universally accepted to be head and shoulders above the rest. But now that I’ve read some of the collected works of William Inge and Horton Foote, I think Big Five might be a little more accurate. And I don’t doubt for a second that there have been plenty of brilliant playwrights I’ve never even heard of.

But, of the recent plays I’ve read, the ones that really stood out and tugged my slightly-frayed heartstrings most were Inge’s Bus Stop and Come Back Little Sheba, and Foote’s The Trip to Bountiful and The Chase. These four plays are so touching and gripping that I don’t see how to distinguish them, in terms of greatness, from the plays of Miller, O’neill or Williams.

Horton Foote and William Inge wrote plays cut very much from the same cloth: they wrote about regular small town people in the midwest or south, they wrote about being poor, getting old, finding someone to love or losing that someone. They wrote dialogue that sounds like regular small town folk. They didn’t embellish, but they somehow brought to light the deep-down problems that are real and inherent for us all.

Foote’s The Chase is exceptionally engrossing, and depicts a scenario and an issue—mob violence—that was so powerfully portrayed in Theodore Dreiser’s short story Nigger Jeff a generation earlier. But Foote’s characters are complex and conflicted, which makes the drama all the more compelling. I don’t expect I’ll ever have a chance to see these terrific plays on the stage, but at least I’ve seen them come to life in my head, and there they will stay.

December 6, 2014

A religion to admire

Posted in Uncategorized tagged , , , , , , at 6:34 pm by chuckredman

I don’t think I’ve ever read or heard a better expression of what religion should be than this eloquent description by Charles Eastman [also called Ohiyesa], a native American doctor, writer, and leader. If all religions actually practiced such humility and humanity, we would be living in a world free of war, hate, and hunger. Here are Eastman’s words:

“The original attitude of the American Indian toward the Eternal, the “Great Mystery” that surrounds and embraces us, was as simple as it was exalted. To him it was the supreme conception, bringing with it the fullest measure of joy and satisfaction possible in this life.

The worship of the “Great Mystery” was silent, solitary, free from all self-seeking. It was silent, because all speech is of necessity feeble and imperfect; therefore the souls of my ancestors ascended to God in wordless adoration. It was solitary, because they believed that He is nearer to us in solitude, and there were no priests authorized to come between a man and his Maker. None might exhort or confess or in any way meddle with the religious experience of another. Among us all men were created sons of God and stood erect, as conscious of their divinity. Our faith might not be formulated in creeds, nor forced upon any who were unwilling to receive it; hence there was no preaching, proselyting, nor persecution, neither were there any scoffers or atheists.

There were no temples or shrines among us save those of nature. Being a natural man, the Indian was intensely poetical. He would deem it sacrilege to build a house for Him who may be met face to face in the mysterious, shadowy aisles of the primeval forest, or on the sunlit bosom of virgin prairies, upon dizzy spires and pinnacles of naked rock, and yonder in the jeweled vault of the night sky! He who enrobes Himself in filmy veils of cloud, there on the rim of the visible world where our Great-Grandfather Sun kindles his evening camp-fire, He who rides upon the rigorous wind of the north, or breathes forth His spirit upon aromatic southern airs, whose war-canoe is launched upon majestic rivers and inland seas—He needs no lesser cathedral! . . .

The native American has been generally despised by his white conquerors for his poverty and simplicity. They forget, perhaps, that his religion forbade the accumulation of wealth and the enjoyment of luxury. To him, as to other single-minded men in every age and race, from Diogenes to the brothers of Saint Francis, from the Montanists to the Shakers, the love of possessions has appeared a snare, and the burdens of a complex society a source of needless peril and temptation. Furthermore, it was the rule of his life to share the fruits of his skill and success with his less fortunate brothers.”

Amen.