I can certainly see how Hedda is a much less sympathetic character than A Doll's House's Nora, just as it's harder to care about the plight of the oppressed the further away the oppressed has to a heart of gold. And I can't help but think that Hedda would still be a pretty rotten person had she not lived in such a man's world. Society, after all, was only one of the things trapping Hedda.

I've met women and men in modern, real life (not that we're post-patriarchy yet even today, but we've made some progress) that have much in common with Hedda. Some have jobs and some don't. The selfishness and lust for power (both over themselves and others) are unmistakeable and not at all dependent on a certain type of society.

Hedda learns from her General father to equate success with having power and influence over other people. She is trapped, true, as a woman in a man's world, but I believe she'd feel trapped whoever or whatever she was. If she had money, how much would be enough? If she had power over her own destiny, how much would be enough? It interests me most, I think, that Hedda succeeds in manipulating and convincing someone to commit suicide, but it upsets her so much that he doesn't do it in exactly the way she wanted him to. That's never being satisfied with a victory.

My character, George, is also trapped, though I don't think he knows it. And it can certainly be argued that George has less power over Hedda than she has over him, regardless of how much more power and influence society says he can have. George's character arc is minor to the story. He talks a lot more than most of the other characters, but his story isn't nearly as interesting or integral as Eilert's or Hedda's. He isn't provocative or startling or all that interesting. He can't recognize subtelty or subtext or pick up on cues from his aunt or Hedda that there could or should be more than what he realizes about Hedda. It's easy for him to disappear.

It's easy for me to identify with George in some respects--he's kind of a nerd like me. Loves his work, can't wait to get started once he's got an idea for a project in his head. But he doesn't have an original bone in his body, so his projects are all about organizing other people's ideas. Hope that's not true of me. And he's good at organizing, whereas I am not. He and I both share the danger of putting work before loved ones. Not that Hedda would be much better off without George neglecting her.

The George we see is never at his best. If he loves his work as much as the play suggests, then we're always seeing him away from it. There are moments when he's excited because he's about to start a project (a letter to Eilert written offstage in the first act). And, at least on our set, George's back is turned to the audience when he's organizing Eilert's notes in the fourth act. Those are the times of the true George at the peak of his powers, just as I believe I'm at my peak when I'm working creatively.

But for the most part, he doesn't work during the course of the play. He talks about it. He wishes he was doing it. And he surrounds himself with friends and family instead. He is clearly an introvert, yet I think he has more lines than any other character I've ever played. Is there a two-facedness to this? I find myself in this kind of situation often, and I have to question who I am at those times. The affection I have for those around me are real. The energy levels I'm able to muster up to be more extroverted are real. The joy I have in being around them--in spite of a more primal desire to do my work--is real.

So what's fake, exactly? I don't know. It's certainly not as effortless for George or me as it is for your average socialite. It's like we're in performance-mode, removed from the persons we feel we ought to be. I wonder if that makes our public personalities a little less genuine, even if we can't quite place where the dishonesty lies. Maybe I just think too much. George certainly does.

But these are extraordinary moments in George's life. He gets back from a trip, he's celebrating with his friends and family, a family member dies, and then the rest of the world goes to hell. We can hardly expect him to get much work done in the 36 hours or so in which the play takes place. In all likelihood he would have finished his book in time and it would be similarly received as Eilert Lovborg's book in that "nobody could possibly disagree with it." George's book would have been a little less interesting of course, but he would have succeeded in not offending anyone with anything so rash as a new idea.

The positive aspects of George not being too interesting is that Hedda chooses him over Eilert Lovborg. George is a safe bet, and as much as Hedda romanticizes Eilert and the riskiness of his behavior and lifestyle, she wants more to pick a winner. Eilert, whose ideas are revolutionary and lifestyle too wild for proper society, is going to either fail miserably (likely) or change the world (a chance in hell). George is likely going to achieve modest success in just the right circles, not changing a thing about society except his own (and their own) stature.

Eilert plays down the uniqueness of his own worldview for his first book. It's a tactical move in order to gain the acceptance needed to deliver a more brash and original book to the world. New ideas. Bold, far-reaching hypotheses. Kind of like a first time author following a formula for her first book, that she may break into the business and then break all of the rules for the next one.

But his oppression of himself and his own ideas comes at a price. I've heard it said that "a writer drinks not because he's a writer, but because he's a writer who is not writing." Eilert has defiled himself in a new way, by writing something trite and sanitized. He has betrayed his own ideas to pay the bills. He has whored himself to play society's game. And when he goes out drinking (to show Hedda and Judge Back that he can be a part of polite drinking society) and loses his real work--the work of ideas that's going to either change the world or end his career--that's when he stops being able to forgive himself for these tactical moves. He's thrown the baby out with the bathwater.

Opening weekend went pretty well. Three weekends to go! For tickets and info visit Deep Dish Theater.

Filed under Acting, Journal, Peers & Peerless

Comments: Discuss this entry at LiveJournal

Posted by: Richard Ely at March 31, 2006 5:05 PM

Posted by: Alex at April 1, 2006 12:29 PM