Let me first start by introducing myself to those who don’t
know me and stumbled upon this on accident.
My name is Reesa. And I am an
unabashed feminist. Some of you will
stop reading or role their eyes at that, and that’s fine, it’s your right. Just as it is my right to believe that all
humans are equal, regardless of sex, color, sexual orientation, or anything
else you want to put in this category.
I have spent the last few years of my life trying to figure out how to
best work towards equality. I’m still
working on it. I am also a story teller. I have been in theatre for longer than I can remember, and its really been the only thing I have ever wanted to do. I started as an actress, then discovered directing and never looked back. I moved to NYC 5 years ago to pursue my theatrical dreams, and this is where this post actually starts.
Nope, one more thing about me, I am also a scholar. When I first started to write this blog,
knowing where it needed to go, I pretty immediately do what I do – I started
looking for sources and facts to back up my opinions – things smarter and more
educated people have said, or studies (I LOVE studies!) have claimed to
prove.
But then I stopped, because that’s not what this is
about.
This is about what its like to be a female director in a
theatrical world that mostly praises men while allowing token women. This is about what it feels like to watch 75
shows a year, and see myself , a female, on stage as a main character 10-15
times a year, if I’m lucky. This is
about what it’s like to be asked about my boyfriend (or lack there of), my
marriage plans (to my non-existent boyfriend), and my timeline for babies
instead of how my art is going and whether I’m happy in the city or… really, anything that actually has to do with
me every time I go home by some well meaning person with good intent. This is about an ex-boyfriend… ok, several
ex-boyfriends who I let win fights, or even worse, apologized when I did
nothing wrong. (And no, they never hit
me.) It’s about being told by a
professor that my worth as an academic wasn’t as good as that of my male
collogues. And this is about telling
these stories - I am a story-teller after all.
As a director, I believe my job is to make sure the story is
told through the use of the author’s words.
I’ve been doing it for many years, and I love it. I tend to choose projects that help foster the
female voice in some way. I have used
gender-blind cast, worked (and still work) with an all female Shakespeare troop
(shout out Manhattan Shakespeare Project), chosen scripts with women who had
hopes, and dreams, and foibles – women who make mistakes and clearly aren’t
perfect – and, most importantly, women with agency, who make their own choices
instead of just reacting to what is happening around them. I have loved doing it.
And then, every once in a while you get a script that hits you in
the heart and soul, one that tells one of the stories that you’ve been trying
to voice for years. For me, May Violets Spring is one such
script. Playwright James Parenti has
been developing this script for a while.
The focus of it, originally, was the story of Hamlet, but with Ophelia
as an equal partner in their relationship.
He quickly realized how problematic that story was, and thus began the four-year
trek to this production. In that trek,
Parenti has taken language from most of Shakespeare’s cannon (it’s a fun game
for those super Shakes nerds) and seamlessly intermingled it with his own
original verse.
All of those things are cool, but the thing that drove me to
want to be a part of this production is the focus on Ophelia. Parenti uses the framework of Hamlet to tell
the Ophelia’s story, and her story is my story, is the story of so many women I
know and love (and some I know and don’t love).
Following in Shakespeare’s own footsteps, Parenti’s story reminds me of
the power of theatre to create a universal truth out of a single concrete
example.
On top of Parenti’s incredible script, the cast tells the
story with a clarity that is often missing in newer work. They know what the story is that they are
telling, and how important it is to be told, and they do it.
But for all of us, this has been a labor of love, a thing we
did because we believed in the story, the script, and the cast so much, that we
all jumped. That is why we have been
blown away with the support this production has received. We sold out most of our first run. So, once again, we are
jumping. We are jumping into a one week
extension because we believe in this show, what it means, and how vital it is
that women’s stories are told. I
understand the power of theatre, I believe in it, I have made it my life
because of it. And I believe in the
power of this show, and shows like it, to help society shift and change. Augusto Boal, a theatre revolutionary, once
said “All theatre is political.” I don’t
think he was wrong. Any time a story is
told, it ads to the conversation that is society. And I think it’s time for Ophelia to find her
voice in that dialogue.
And no, I would not be so sure you know how it ends.
