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In the spring of 1914, a few months before the beginning of what would be called the Great War, Emma Goldman set out on a national lecture tour, speaking to crowds on various "radical" topics, from birth control and unemployment to something that had come, in recent years, to occupy much of Goldman's attention: the modern drama, which she believed would prove a compelling vehicle to bring radicalism to bourgeois audiences. As the tour kicked off, she published a small volume on The Significance of the Modern Drama, based on a stenographer's notes on a six-week lecture series at the Berkeley Theater, near Times Square. "In countries where political oppression affects all classes," she wrote in the volume's foreword, "the best intellectual element have made common cause with the people, have become their teachers, comrades, and spokesmen." In America, by contrast, the only ones who seemed to wind up in prison--or tarred and feathered--for their politics were "the 'common' people." Something was needed, then, "to arouse the intellectuals of this country, to make them realize their relation to the people, to the social unrest permeating the atmosphere."

Goldman's interest in modern drama was not new; as early as 1897 she had lectured on George Bernard Shaw to an audience of coal miners. In 1905 and 1906, a period when she had withdrawn from the public eye in the wake of a presidential assassination for which she was blamed by some, she had served, under the name "Miss Smith," as a tour manager for a Russian-speaking Paul Orleneff theater troupe, with stops in Boston and Chicago. The group, which included the future film star Alla Nazimova, is sometimes credited with introducing modern drama to American audiences; the group also staged a benefit performance to help fund Goldman's fledgling Mother Earth. As the Village personality Hippolyte Havel wrote in a 1910 biographical sketch of Goldman, working with the Orleneff troupe granted Goldman access to "various polite functions" among the "aristocratic ladies of Fifth Avenue," who "had not the least inkling that the amiable manager who so entertainingly discussed philosophy, drama, and literature at their five o'clock teas, was the 'notorious' Emma Goldman."

Though Goldman's conceptions of what was vital about modern drama did not always square with the ideas of her Greenwich Village intellectual friends, many of whom were helping to usher in a political "little theater" movement at almost the same moment, the convergence of these theatrical obsessions was productive in its own time and can serve us--as I'll argue at greater length in a chapter of the cultural history Cyrus and I are writing--as a particularly clear window onto the production of literary personality in the early twentieth-century city.

I thought about Goldman yesterday afternoon at the closing performance of the Metropolitan Playhouse's production of George Middleton's Nowadays, written and published in 1914 but never staged because producers feared it would be insufficiently "commercial." Goldman devoted The Social Significance of the Modern Drama primarily to major works by Ibsen, Strindberg, Shaw, Chekov and others, but she also called for a new program in American dramatic arts: "My only regret," she announced in the preface to her volume, "was that my own adopted land had to be left out [of the book]. I had tried diligently to find some American dramatist who could be placed alongside the great Europeans, but I could discover no one." She did mention in passing as "commendable" works by American playwrights like Eugene Walter, Butler Davenport, and--yes, George Middleton--but her complaint was clear: an American "dramatic master ... was not yet in sight."

I'm not sure if Goldman ever addressed Nowadays in her lectures on American drama; if she read it, though, I'm sure it must have worked for her. The plays technical weaknesses correspond directly to the limitations Margaret Anderson identified in EG's criticism: Goldman biographer Alice Wexler quotes Anderson on EG's "intrusion of dogma and platitude into the discussion, the wearying insistence upon 'the moral' of each play, the uncritical acquiescence in the veracity of each dramatic picture of life." Certainly Middleton's previously-unstaged play suffers from similar problems. The story of a mid-Western family torn apart (but ultimately reunited and strengthened) by a fiery young daughter's desire to leave home and make it as an artist in New York, Nowadays plays to exactly the kinds of bourgeois-radical concern Goldman hoped to play in her effort to recruit middle- and upper-class intellectuals to the causes of anarchism and feminism. (One wonders if Middleton realized that the newspaper story he uses to open the play--"Eight Million Women Support Themselves by Working"--probably didn't refer to middle-class women who struck out on their own to be modern artists. Goldman certainly would have known it.)

The play's most unique plot twist--the mid-Western mother's decision, two-thirds of the way through the play, to follow her daughter to the city, where she'll pick up her own youthful enthusiasm for painting--seems simultaneously far-fetched and, at the same time, extraordinarily heartfelt. It makes plain that Middleton's target audience was not a generation of bohemian intellectuals in the Village but their parents. The play's most riveting moment comes at the end of the second half, when the Victorian wife confronts her patronizing husband and tells him she's going to the city to join her daughter, with or without him. The real force of the drama, then, isn't the satirical social comedy that opens and closes the play but the tragedy of a woman whose life as a good wife and mother has forced her to sacrifice her own development as a human being. (Unlike her daughter, she doesn't quite make it as an artist once she's struck out on her own.)

Middleton, who participated in early public discussions of feminism in the Village, lived until 1967. He published an autobiography in the mid 1940s. Even though he remained somewhat well-known in the theater world during the first half of the twentieth century and had his works censored by church and state for advocating liberal divorce laws, Middleton remains virtually unknown today, a mere Wikipedia stub, perhaps because his cultural politics trumped artistic subtlety. (It's no mistake that Goldman's known for her politics rather than her role in American dramatic history.) Perhaps more productions like the Metropolitan's Nowadays will return some attention--at least from cultural historians of feminism and the American stage--to someone Goldman once thought might develop into a great American playwright.

There's a marvelous new production of Chekhov's play The Seagull in town right now, a London transfer starring Kristin Scott Thomas as the actress Arkadina. Thomas won the Olivier for her performance in the London production, and the reviews of the production have been uniformly glowing (Ben Brantley's review in the Times was almost embarrassing in its effusiveness). All of the reviews single her out for the highest praise. If you want to go see the production, get your tickets now.

I was fortunate enough to be there on opening night last Thursday, which happened to be the same night as the vice-presidential debate (a conjunction that I wrote about over at patell.org). Once again, I found myself thinking, as I invariably do when I see one of Checkhov's plays, that he is the great poet of suburban ennui. He didn't call it "the suburbs" of course -- for him it was "the country" -- but as a born-and-bred, dyed-in-the-wool New Yorker, I have always found myself to be in great sympathy with those of Chekhov's characters who long either to go to or to return to the city.

"Oh," says Arkadina in Act 2 of The Seagull, "what could be more boring than this cloying country boredom! So hot, so still, nobody doing anything, everybody talking like a philosopher . . . " Earlier, in the first act, Arkadina's lover, Trigorin, a famous writer, says, "I'm very fond of fishing. As far as I'm concerned, there's no greater pleasure than to sit on the bank of a river in the late afternoon and watch the float." The young, starstruck and already infatuated Nina replies, "I would have thought that for anyone who'd experienced the joy of creative work no other pleasure could exist."

I've always thought Trigorin's remark about fishing should be seen as the key to his character -- or, rather, as an indication of what's wrong with his character. It strikes me as somehwat disingenuous (and I felt that the weakness of Peter Sarsgaard's performance as Trigorin was that he played the line about fishing -- and Trigorin's character more generally -- without irony). Trigorin is constantly writing down observations about the people around him and the things they say, because they "might come in useful." You can't observe too much of human nature while you're fishing. Perhaps that's why fishing comes as a relief to Trigorin, and yet fishing -- and by implication, the country life -- become a luxury position, which somone like Trigorin can afford to adopt. Nice to be able to drop in and out. But for those who are stuck in the country -- like Arakdina's son, Konstantin -- the country life is stultifying, even deadly.

But the city isn't always a panacea: the presumably cosmopolitan audience for the premiere of The Seagull in St. Petersberg on October 17, 1896 hated the play, and Chekhov vowed to give up the theater as a result. Luckily, the director Vladimir Nemirovich-Danchenko found the play so intriguing that he convinced his colleague Constantin Stanislvsky to direct it two years later at the Moscow Art Theater, where it was a success. Chekhov took up playwriting once again, and as a result we have Uncle Vanya (1899), The Three Sisters (1900), and The Cherry Orchard (1903).

The audience last Thursday night was far more appreciative than that St. Petersberg audience a century ago, and Chekhov's play, in a new translation by Christopher Hampton, felt fresh, its ideas about the country and the city, and about the lives of actors and writers, as relevant today as they were then. Perhaps more so, given the valorization (in certain quarters) of the suburban life supposedly embodied by "Wal-Mart moms." What, I found myself wondering, would Anton Chekhov have made of Sarah Palin?

Yesterday evening, my family and I went to Washington Square Park to catch Circus Amok's second show of the day. This year's show is called "Sub-Prime Sublime," and it features some of the circus's trademark set pieces: the opening on stilits; the introductory patter by director and bearded lady Jennifer Miller; juggling by "the Liberty Sisters" (Sybil, Statua, and Liberty Belle), all of whom have beards; tumbling fun; and left-liberal politics. As its title suggests, this year's show takes aim at those responsible for the lending practices and speculation that have brought the country to the brink of economic cataclysm. Indeed, givent the events of the past week, the show has probably become even more timely than it was at its first performance at the beginning of the month. Dick Cheney loomed large (as a target) in last year's show, "Bee-Dazzled," but this year the Bushies barely rate a mention, though Sarah Palin is excoriated at the conclusion of the show by a large puppet-head representing Shirley Chisolm.

This year's edition sends a blonde-wigged Dorothy (played by Michelle Matlock), who has been rendered homeless in the aftermath of the sub-prime mortgage fiasco, on a quest to visit the CERN particle accelrator in search of answers to the great mysteries of the day, accompanied by the Liberty Sisters (Miller, Carlton Ward, and Fernando Wanderley) and Harry Potter (Victor Vauban, Jr.), who's trying to escape being burned. In addition to Chisolm, the finale features a visit from R. Buckminster Fuller.

My kids, almost-eight- and four-years-old respectively, laughed hysterically at the hijinks, and the older one pronounced it better than last year's (I think he got more of the jokes).

Here's a video excerpt of the show shot by yours truly:



You can catch the show at Bedford Playground at 5:00 p.m. on Wednesday; Battery Park at 1:00 p.m. and 5:00 p.m. on Friday; Seward Park at 4:00 p.m. on Saturday. The final performances of this year's season take place on Sunday in Tompkins Square Park at 12:00 p.m. and 3:00 p.m.

I wrote about Jennifer Miller's fabulous Circus Amok last July, when the troupe was holding auditions for an acrobat to join them for their fall show. Well, now it's showtime!



Their latest political satire is called "Sub-Prime Sublime," and it's coming to a New York park near you this month. It promises: "Acrobatic Economists, Fantastical Free-Falling Free Markets, Tenanacious Tenants, Querelous Quarks, Neurotic Neutrons, Vaulting Villains, Stupendous Stilters, Disco Dorothy, Lions and Tigers and Zebras Oh My!"

All of the shows are free. Here's the schedule:

SAT, SEPT 6 - UPPER WEST SIDE - Riverside Park - 2pm & 5pm (79th Street & Riverside Drive)

SUN, SEPT 7 - CONEY ISLAND, BROOKLYN - Coney Island - 2pm & 5pm (West 10th Street & Surf Avenue)

MON, SEPT 8 - EAST NEW YORK, BROOKLYN - MLK Park - 5pm (Miller & Dumont Avenues)

WED, SEPT 10 - FT GREENE, BROOKLYN - Ft. Greene Park - 5:30pm (Myrtle Avenue & St. Edward's Street)

FRI, SEPT 12 - SOUTH BRONX - St. Mary's Park - 5pm (St. Ann's Avenue & St. Mary's Street)

SAT, SEPT 13 - LONG ISLAND CITY, QUEENS - Socrates Sculpture Park - 3pm (Broadway & Vernon Boulevard)

SUN, SEPT 14 - PROSPECT PARK, BROOKLYN - Prospect Park - 2pm & 5pm (Enter @ 9th Street & Prospect Park West: show is at the base of the grassy hill near the dog beach.)

WED, SEPT 17 - LOWER MANHATTAN - Columbus Park - 5:30pm (Mulberry & Worth Streets)

FRI, SEPT 19 - SUNSET PARK, BROOKLYN - Sunset Park - 5:30pm (6th Avenue & 41st Street)

SAT, SEPT 20 - GREENWICH VILLAGE - Washington Square - 2pm & 5pm (University Place & Washington Square South)

SUN, SEPT 21 - HARLEM - Marcus Garvey - 2pm & 5pm (Madison Avenue & 122nd Street)

WED, SEPT 24 - WILLIAMSBURG, BROOKLYN - Bedford Playground - 5pm (Bedford Avenue & South 9th Street)

FRI, SEPT 26 - LOWER MANHATTAN - Battery Park - 1pm & 5pm (Castle Clinton Plaza)

SAT, SEPT 27 - LOWER EAST SIDE - Seward Park - 4pm (Canal & Essex Streets)

SUN, SEPT 28 - EAST VILLAGE - Tompkins Square - 12pm & 3pm (Avenue A & East 7th Street)

The two FringeNYC productions about which we wrote here recently -- The Alice Complex and III -- have each received awards for excellence from the festival.

The Alice Complex received awards for Outstanding Direction (Bill Oliver, shared with three other productions) and Outstanding Set Design (Tania Bijlani).

III received the award for Outstanding Play, along with three other productions.

Congratulations to all whose hard work went into these two productions. Special congratulations to our friends Peter Nickowitz and Joe Salvatore.

You can find complete list of award winners on playbill.com.

We'll close with this video of Joe talking about III.

I've mentioned before my abiding affection for the folks who run the Metropolitan Playhouse. I feel extraordinarily lucky to teach earlier American lit (including 19c drama) and the literary cultures of NYC in a neighborhood -- one of the few in the world, I'm sure, if not the only one in existence -- where you can actually see earlier American plays regularly staged. From Mowatt's Fashion to Fitch's The City and Zangwill's The Melting Pot, the Playhouse is also its own virtual "City on Stage" archive; indeed, I'm pretty sure my idea for the chapter I'm currently writing on that topic gestated over several years of watching Met Playhouse productions.

Of course, our encounter with these plays in such an intimate space differs radically from how 19c and early 20c audiences encountered them -- often in enormous theaters. But I'll take it, and I'll take my students along as often as possible.

The coming season has a lot to offer theater and Am Lit buffs: They'll be doing Nowadays by George Middleton (one of Emma Goldman's favorite American playwrights), a 1914 play that deals with gender issues; O'Neill's Anna Christie (woo-hoo!), and an adaptation of Steinbeck's The Grapes of Wrath. I'm especially looking forward to the Middleton, since I'm working, when I get a chance between more immediate deadlines, on a chapter of our cultural history that situates Goldman and O'Neill in overlapping, but not identical, theater and intellectual circles.  I'd never heard of Middleton before I starting researching Goldman's lectures on modern drama.

And then there's Melvillapalooza! For each of the last several seasons, the Playhouse has hosted a festival of small pieces celebrating, roasting, or inspired by famous American authors, including Irving, Poe, and Hawthorne. This year our beloved HM holds pride of place. I can only hope someone dramatizes the death scene from Pierre, one of Melville's finest NYC scenes!

In today's New York Times, Anita Gates has written a brief, positive review of The Alice Complex by Peter Nickowitz, which I discussed here a couple of weeks ago. (The picture above of actress Lisa Banes as Sally Keating comes from the review.) The final performance of the show is tomorrow at 9:30 p.m. at the Cherry Lane Theater. You can buy tickets online until 9:30 p.m. tonight and tomorrow at the box office (cash only). The FringeNYC Festival continues through Sunday.

Our friend (and colleague in NYU's Faculty Fellows in Residence Program) Joe Salvatore has a play up as part of the Fringe Fest, which Cyrus mentioned in an earlier post. Based on "real life, all-male ménage à trois (1927-1943) between the photographer George Platt Lynes and one of the great artistic couples of the 20th century: writer Glenway Wescott and MoMA curator Monroe Wheeler," Joe's play, III, has received terrific early press from  Time Out NY and Gay City News. 

"How did the relationship affect the creative output of the three individuals?" the press release asks. "How did these three men make this complex relationship 'work' for fifteen years?" I imagine you'll have to see it to find out. Click here for tickets and here for more info. 

I've just returned from the first performance of The Alice Complex. The blurb I cited in my previous post doesn't really do justice to the play, which is a shrewdly written meditation not only on feminism and the bonds between student and teacher, but also on the vicissitudes of age and on the nature of performance and theatricality. At an hour and fifteen moments, the play is tantalizingly suggestive rather than exhaustive in its delineation of character, but the two actresses who make up the entire cast -- Lisa Banes and Xanthe Elbrick -- do a marvelous job of delineating personalities and relationships through gesture and body language. They're both terrific, as they play multiple, overlapping roles. If you have a chance, go see The Alice Complex at the Cherry Lane Theater.