Brecht's "Baal" - Directorial Vision

I have long professed that I am one of the few stage managers with no desire to direct. When I read a play, it doesn’t occur to me to think through how to stage it, and when I work a show, I’m happy to take the director’s vision and run. For “Baal,” I will make an exception, if only on paper. We will assume I can direct, and this is my pitch meeting.
My production would be set in a 1930’s traveling carnival, à la HBO’s Carnivàle. The space would be outdoors amongst large cloth tents, and the audience would walk from scene to scene. No matinees allowed – only night performances, well after sunset. The experience would begin at the ticket window, with peanut and popcorn salespeople milling about, along with some tastes of what’s to come: a fortune teller, magician, perhaps a Three-card Monte trickster or weight guesser while the patrons wait for the play to begin. It is important that no interaction with a “carny” worker pre-show end with a good outcome for the patron. Their fortune should be dark, their weight should be guessed high, or their card game should not go well. They should be set up for failure. I don’t know if it’s historically correct, but I want a dunk tank, if only to set up an idea for Sophie later. It would be a bonus if we could outfit the place with outhouse-like restrooms.
I think I could get by with as few as three large cloth tents. All outside or forest scenes would be played outdoors. The remaining scenes – bars (Scenes 3, 7, 9, 13, 18) are Tent 1, Baal’s attic apartment (Scenes 2-4) are Tent 2, and cabins (Scenes 11 and 21 – also Scene 1, giving plenty of time for transformation) would be Tent 3. If we can budget one Tent more, all the better, being able to keep Scene 1 as-is and take it easy on the crew.
Sound design other than music is unnecessary. I am not a musician, so though Brecht has provided sheet music for some of the songs, I would ask my music director to keep it carnival-esque: lots of hurdy gurdy (as the play references), and certainly musicians who can move about as the audience moves – banjo, accordion, maybe a flute. The actor portraying Baal, of course, will have a guitar handy as needed.
I envision the show with shadowy lighting. I have no problem whatsoever with the use of modern lighting instruments, and think Brecht would agree. Patrons know they’re seeing a show, for heaven’s sake. I see strings of colorful lights strung from tent to tent, and of course the ticket booth will be quite bright, but otherwise, just suggestions of light well enough for the audience to see the actors.
The cast, as written, is huge. I think I could boil the actors down to 7-10 actors. I thought for a bit that perhaps all of Baal’s girlfriends/conquests could be played by the same actress, but I’ve changed my mind. I think that Emily, Johanna, Louise, and Sophie should be different actresses but that the remaining female roles could be taken on by one actress with various costume changes.
The actors who are not in ongoing scenes would become sideshow performers throughout the play. I understand Brecht’s wish for the words to be important, so I wouldn’t toss potentially scene-stealing sideshow acts into every scene, but I have thoughts on where that could work. Baal’s apartment, for example, would be absent of sideshow. But I think the audience should get a small taste of what’s coming in Scene 1, with perhaps a contortionist in place during Scene 1, just there, in a corner, doing their act, not a lot of movement. All of the bar scenes, would be perfect for sideshow during actual scenes. Scene 3 could perhaps have a bearded lady, a sword-swallower or a Siamese twin-like act going on in a corner while the scene unfolds. Scene 16 would certainly have a snake-charmer off to the side of the outside area (forest) while the scene goes on – a nice phallic suggestion never hurt anybody.
Costumes in general for the men should be browns and blacks – nothing showy. The ladies should have some color, but maybe muted pinks and mustards. Costuming the character of Baal has me a bit stumped. He should be dressed as if he belongs there at the carnival. At first I thought just a carny: dirtied-up, sleeves rolled, maybe a bit greasy, but that doesn’t make him stand out in any way. But maybe he shouldn’t. He’s not a man of means, so he doesn’t own the place. He sings, but has no will to do much else, so dressing him as some other type of performer would imply he would care to perform above and beyond what he does best. I think the carny worker costume is the way to go – perhaps making him pop with color – a burgundy or orange against more muddied colors of the others would do the trick. I want no one to look clean – perhaps with the exception of some of the characters in Scene 1. I want dinge to be the rule of the day.
I would like no curtain call. Perhaps a carnival barker or the musicians leading people out of Tent 3, but they’ve been brought down with Baal and don’t need to applaud the actors as a company. As the patrons exit and return to their vehicles, I would very much like the dunk tank to have remained in place, and have either the actress playing Sophie, or a dummy to look like her, to be floating dead (drowned) in the tank. Ekart should be slumped dead against the tank as well – he will have adequate time to get into place from Tent 1 where he was killed in Scene 18.
I think it is important that the audience come away with an experience. The staging of “Baal” in this arena – pun intended – would spread via word-of-mouth and bring audience who might normally not attend regular theater, much like sideshows of long ago, just to see what the heck is going on, for themselves. Producers welcome.

Television as an Agent of Socialization

The AMC series Breaking Bad is a study of one man’s descent into evil. Sociologically speaking, our topic is deviance. Motivated to crime as a means to an end, the show’s lead character breaks every social norm he’s ever known. Yet, he’s our hero. Breaking Bad enjoys rabid fandom and fans enjoy watching his brilliant machinations week after week. We don’t want to be like him, but it’s such fun to watch him. We are drawn to the deviant behavior perhaps because we couldn’t imagine trying it ourselves. As the layers of his secrets and deceit peel away, even for those closest to him, we watch. Will he get away with it? Could we?

To summarize the show as succinctly as I can, our hero is Walter White: a middle-aged married high school chemistry teacher with a teenage son, a baby on the way, a second job at a car wash who learns that he has inoperable lung cancer. Presented this death sentence, he decides to use his chemistry knowledge to cook – and with help, deal – crystal meth in order to create financial stability for his family long after he’s gone. Talk about breaking norms!

As the series progresses, writers pile deviant behavior on top of deviant behavior. His extended disappearances (cooking meth in the desert) are explained first to his wife as blackout episodes brought on by cancer treatment, then marijuana addiction brought on by cancer treatment. Once his wife learns the truth, the cover to his extended family is a gambling problem – which also explains the loads of cash the family suddenly has its hands on. Like any of the covering addictions are any less deviant! Such a brilliant device to draw us in – not-so-small deviances are made to seem that way, and cover a much darker truth.

In the Season 4 episode, “Cornered,” Walt is exactly that. I think this is an excellent moment in the show’s arc that captures the deviance both at its height and at its breaking point (pun intended). Walt’s developed superiority and greed is challenged at nearly every turn.

Walt’s son tries to analyze his father’s behavior. He goes through elaborate face-saving for his dad, telling him that gambling (one of the deviant lies-on-top-of-lies) isn’t his fault and that he knows he’s had a hard time. Walt doesn’t let himself off the hook because he knows his deviant behavior has nothing to do with circumstance. “What’s going on with me is not about a disease, it’s about choices. Choices that I have made. Choices I stand by.”

The Whites purchase the car wash where Walt used to work. Bogdan, the previous owner, gives him a lecture about being in charge. The Romanian smugly explains: “Being in charge is not easy. It takes hard work. The real important thing is to be tough. Boss has to be tough. Can you be tough, Walter? I’m sure you can handle. And if not, you can always call your wife.” Seriously? Walt’s killed plenty of men by now and makes millions of dollars a year. This insult spurs Walt to take Bogdan’s framed first dollar, smash it, and buy himself a soda. The once-feared Bogdan has been overtaken and remains nothing more than a joke.

Walt’s business partner, Jesse, is distracted by the Meth Proprietor, and Walt believes it’s a ruse. “Keep your friends close and your enemies closer. This whole thing – it’s all about me.” Paranoid much, Walt?

A tipsy Walt lays out a case to his DEA brother-in-law Hank that he doesn’t think Hank has captured his meth “kingpin” after all. The following morning, Walt’s wife accuses him of self-sabotage – a cry for help. “I think some part of you wants Hank to catch you.” Walt denies her accusation: “Who is it you think you see? Do you know how much I make a year? Even if I told you, you wouldn’t believe it. You clearly don’t know who you’re talking to, so let me clue you in: I am not IN danger, I AM the danger. A guy opens his door and gets shot, and you think that of me? No. I am the one who knocks.” Wow – pretty cocky stuff, and Walt knows it, too, because he justifies: “Everything I do – everything – I do it to protect this family.” His wife, however, knows his deviant greed has spiraled a level too far, and retorts, “Someone has to protect this family from the man who protects this family.”

Yet we want to like this fellow, Walter White. Somehow he is relatable, and it draws us back each week. Season after season, he “breaks bad” more deeply, but the viewer keeps watching. Show creator Vince Gilligan, in an interview, put it this way: “We’re taking the protagonist and over time turning him into the antagonist. We take him darker with every episode.” I find myself cheering each beating, poisoning, explosion, intentional car accident, murder. TV’s powers of socialization are tremendous. Rooting for the bad guy = great entertainment for the viewer and great ratings for the network.

It was said in class just today: there wouldn’t be conflict if there weren’t both good guys and bad guys. Socialization is the process by which we acquire necessary skills to perform as functioning members of society. It’s safe to sit on our sofas and root for the bad guy, and I think one of the ways we learn to behave well is by watching the fictionalized versions of those who deviate from our norms. We stand at the coffee machine the following morning and chat with our fellow fans about just how bad Walt was, and how much more bad he can potentially be next week. Tick-tock, Walt: this is your last season.