Dramaturgy as Advocacy and Translation
Alison Caviness Gibson, Ph.D., Senior Lecturer of English, Director of the Writing Center and First-Year Writing
I am a dramaturg. Outside of theater circles, few people know what this is– though anyone who has seen a theatrical production has likely been (knowingly or unknowingly) impacted by a dramaturg's work.
"What is a dramaturg?" my students ask me hesitantly, unsure of how to pronounce this unknown term. Is it dramaturguh or dramaturj? (It's either, by the way.)
This question is often difficult for me to answer. Every definition I've tried to provide seems to leave something out–or to not fully capture the myriad experiences of dramaturgs.
On the first day of my dramaturgy course, I often explain it to my students in this way:
As a literary expert on a play, a dramaturg's job is to bring his or her knowledge and research to bear on the production of the play, ultimately supporting the actors, director, crew, and audience. The work of a dramaturg is wide-reaching and varies production to production. It can include conducting research for actors and directors on a play's historical context, author biography, literary history, genre, past productions, and scholarly criticism. Some dramaturgs collaborate closely with directors on creating a production's concept, attend and engage in rehearsals, and offer notes to actors. For the audience, a dramaturg might construct a theater's lobby exhibit, give a pre-show lecture, design web content, and write program notes. Dramaturgs with an educational focus create lesson plans for teachers and facilitate field trips for students. Some dramaturgs work closely with playwrights, functioning like an editor or a literary agent who is present during workshops, offering suggestions on drafts.
This far from exhaustive list begins to draw a picture of the tasks that dramaturgs complete. And yet, it doesn't really capture why a dramaturg is so important.
The recent faculty CACE seminar in which I participated helped to clarify this for me.
A dramaturg is an advocate for stories.
Once the play is written and exists outside of the mind of the playwright, it no longer has an owner. In fact, for a play's story to be heard, it must be gifted to the actor(s) and audience. The playwright knows this, of course, and some playwrights are more comfortable with handing over their stories to actors and directors than others are (ahem, Arthur Miller and Thornton Wilder). Some playwrights want the authority to choose who directs and acts in their plays (ahem, August Wilson). The play is an orphan, of sorts, released by its parent-playwright and adopted by different theater companies in different cultural contexts at different times.
The dramaturg knows the play's story: where it was born, where it's been produced, how it's doing, what's been said about it, what it was in the past and could be now. The dramaturg allows the play to grow into its current moment: protects it, stretches it, knows it, comes to know it again, intercedes on its behalf, translates it.
One of the themes of our seminar was translation. The theater is rife with it. A playwright translates the world as she or he knows it and puts it into words on a page. An actor translates those words into his or her body, giving them breath and voice. Set, lighting, and costume designers translate the setting of the play into a physical world that the audience can see, smell, and sometimes even touch. The director translates the play from the moment in which it was written and brings it to life in a new place, time, and cultural context. The audience members receive all of this translation in the work of a performance, which they, in turn, interpret and translate through their own understanding.
When practiced with love and humility, all of this translation can enable us to really see, hear, value, and understand one another's stories. That is how we grow in community. However, translation also has the potential to harm, especially when it is done without careful listening, to pursue one's own agenda, solely for financial gain, or without love for the story, the storytellers, and the audience.
I saw a theatrical production recently that didn't translate well to me. I wondered what I would have done had I been a dramaturg for that production. What questions would I have raised in the rehearsal room? Would I have been courageous enough to advocate for those who might be harmed by production choices? Would I have allowed my commitment to Christ to shape my contributions as a dramaturg?
As a dramaturg, an advocate for stories, these are the questions I must ask:
Should this story be told? Why? What is its value?
What is the purpose in telling it? Is the purpose rooted in love or in something more malicious like revenge?
How should it be told? Who should tell it? Where should it be told, and to whom? What is the best genre in which to communicate it? How should lighting, sound, costumes, and movement be used to tell it?
When I teach my dramaturgy course this fall, I will invite my students to pray with me for the virtues that we need in order to be responsible advocates for stories: wisdom, humility, love, patience, self-control and gentleness. With Christ's help, we will be advocates for stories and advocates for theater.