Where, oh where, is he going to go with this one?
Well, I’m going to try to go….anywhere I can?
I, as always, am talking about theater. In all its aspects, really, there is sort of a magic to it all, isn’t there? Have you ever had something happen onstage, where everything really “clicked” or went fantastically well? Have you ever had a really tough time describing what you were going through when you were performing, to someone who watched you in awe? Have you ever read a play and gotten so swept up in it, and weren’t really quite sure why?
Don’t get me wrong, Penn and Teller aren’t going to saw you in half, but there is something special about those moments when you take the time to reflect on them, isn’t there?
Same thing goes with plays. For example, Sartre’s play called The Flies. If you have never read it, give it a go; its sort of abstract, but it’s very gripping (and very fun. Read his play No Exit too. Reeeeeeeally want to give them both a whirl!). A brief overview is that a man named Orestes is coming back to his hometown of Argos on the day that his father, King Agememnon, was brutally murdered. The king’s killer is now married to Orestes’ mother, Clytemnestra, and has made his sister, Electra, basically a scullery maid. However, something is going on behind the scenes, as everyone is basically self-flagellating themselves for past sins and loved one’s deaths. Zeus makes an appearance, and for some reason, there are flies everywhere. Things happen, decisions are made, tragedy all around. Basically Christmas dinner with the family.
However, Sartre does a phenomenal job of never truly saying things outright. Sure, there are things that are discovered by the characters through way of dialogue, but he never really puts all the cards on the table. In short, there are many things that you can take from the play. Moments, morals; hell, even some good audition material. But the writing in itself is also mysterious. At the the end, Orestes has an exit where he seemingly….exits. That’s it. No fanfare, no parade, no fight. Just, walks out the door, chased by bear (read, Furies).
That’s the mysticism. That question that is the core, the soul of this living art. The why.
That’s why we can never really explain it. The why can never really be answered, just speculated.