Day 9: Against All Things Quirky

Here's a problem in theater that doesn't get a lot of attention: quirkiness. I don't know where this started. I guess it has something to do with the rise of post-modern self-awareness in narratives and it's certainly related to the increasing popularity of irony and kitsch and this whole idea that we can be stupid and silly in our storytelling as long as it comes with a wink that acknowledges we know it's stupid and silly, thus making it somehow smart and bold. And don't get me wrong. There are plays with genuine, loveable wackiness to them, an organic tone that helps to define the world and the themes of the story. That's not what I'm talking about. I'm talking about forced, awkward, effortful quirkiness, quirkiness that's slathered over a perfectly good play like so much cheap frosting on a cake. Today's play was full of this kind of thing. Here's a few examples to help you see what I'm getting at.

Pop culture as content: Recently, there was a fairly successful play that featured one character watching and rewatching the movie "Top Gun." The suggestion was that this symbolized the character's inability to move forward with her life. I watch at least twenty minutes of "Top Gun" whenever I come across it on cable. So do most people I know. And do you know what this says about us? It says we've got good taste and can appreciate an awesome movie when we see one. That is all.

Puppets: I get it. "Avenue Q" was very successful and puppets swearing and singing about sex and drugs is funny. But sticking a puppet into your play does not automatically prove you're an outside-the-box kind of thinker who's mixing and matching styles like you're fucking Skrillex. It usually just means that you've seen "Avenue Q."

Unusual belief systems: I've seen it all when it comes to this one: characters who worship and obsess over the spiritual fulfillment they find in all manner of person, place or thing; sea turtles, pumpkin pie, a 1968 Chevy Camaro. You know what we call these people in real life? We call them schizophrenics. And I'm fairly sure that schizophrenia, while tragic and interesting, is not nearly as large a cultural problem as the number of plays seemingly devoted to it would suggest.

Look, I understand that all of this is just symbolism. We're meant to interpret the sea turtle as a sign of some universal and identifiable conflict that we as a culture face, and there's nothing wrong with that. But symbolism is not meant to be jammed down our throats or held up for us as some sort of self-congratulatory display of cleverness. Any good play is a mystery, in that it invites audience members to approach the play on their own terms and arrive at a meaning in whichever way they see fit. When you fill your play with easy symbolism and then shove it in our face, the whole thing becomes both impenetrable and obvious. We choke on it.