The Clean House

Vision Notes

In preparing to work on this production of Sarah Ruhl’s The Clean House, an exhilarating new paradigm of theatre making was introduced to me that I would like to share with you, my collaborators, as we begin our work. This paradigm, from Ruhl herself, shaped my approach and unlocked vast potential in the intent of the work.

In beginning work on a project, the most basic question for me to answer is, “What is this play about?” Traditionally I set to work on forming an answer by analyzing the text according to the objectives and actions of the protagonist and distilling the lessons learned by said protagonist by achieving his/her goals or not – lessons that are passed on to us as audience members. From musicals to plays, Rodgers & Hammerstein to Patrick Marber and back again, regardless of content or even form – thus far in my career, this routine had served me well in paring down the essence of the story I was to tell.

Ruhl rejects this Aristotelian structure as the optimal story-telling mode of the 21st century. She is more interested, in fact, with characters whose emotions flare on the turn of a dime and who are in tune enough with those emotions that they express them – undiluted. And Ruhl isn’t concerned with a clear subtextual motivation for each of those emotions being relayed to the audience. That’s where American realism, particularly in acting style, has gone way too far in her opinion. “If you excavate people’s subjectivity and how they view the world emotionally, you don’t get realism,” she says. “I don’t want to smooth out the emotions to the point where you could interpret them totally rationally, so that they have a clear reference point to the past. Psychological realism makes emotions so rational, so explained, that they don’t feel like emotions to me.&rdquo

Understanding this facet of Ruhl’s writing not only helps us understand the world of the play, but in my mind unlocks a freedom that allows us to embrace and foster moments of emotional expression throughout the text that don’t always have roots in psychological realism. Ruhl doesn’t think “emotions are easily bendable to dramaturgical reason. Emotions can come out of thin air in my work. ... I like plays that have revelations in the moment, where emotions transform almost inexplicably.”

Reading the play within this frame of reference, at times one is struck by moments of overwhelming beauty inspired by pure expression of emotion, both joy and sorrow. And in much the same way that Emerson suggests one can comprehend the true nature of a person by stepping back and looking at the outbursts of passionate thought and feeling of that individual over the course of a life (varied and even contradictory though they may be), I was able to answer my initial question of the play’s meaning by taking a look at this series of emotionally charged moments.

This was a rewarding process on many levels. First of all, it opened my eyes to a completely new way to approach the work. Would this approach be suitable for all future projects? Absolutely not! Knowing the strict adherence Ibsen had to the Aristotelian model in writing A Doll’s House, I wouldn’t dream of tackling the work from this angle. By that same token, in better understanding Ms. Ruhl’s views on what makes effective theatre, we can certainly be more effective in our telling of her story. And now on to that story...

Our production of The Clean House will highlight the effects of human beings caring for one another. Through the course of the play, Lane transforms from being an independent person who (though she treats patients as a doctor) does not, and moreover does not wish to, give care to or be cared for by others. We see Lane’s true nature early in the play when she explodes on Virginia shouting, “Im all grown up. I DO NOT WANT TO BE TAKEN CARE OF.” This is directly contrasted by her position at the end of the play when she asks for Virginia’s help after she decides to take Ana into her home and care for her.

Additionally, just before Ana’s death she urges Lane to “take care of Charles.” In the simple action of kissing his forehead, we see that Lane cares for Charles in a way she did not before he found his bashert. Though Lane’s former way of life is more sterile (i.e. clean), the mess made by others and ourselves in our life is ultimately a worthwhile byproduct of a life emotionally invested in relationships. To my way of thinking, that is the life worth living.

The play also beautifully juxtaposes humor against pain. Mathilde’s comedic nature and background is a direct result of her parents being the funniest people in Brazil – the same parents whom she is mourning. And while her ultimate success in finding the perfect joke does not prove to be her own demise, it is used to aid in Ana’s death. It is also no small accident that the most humorous character in my experience, Virginia, is also the most tortured by her existence from the very outset of the play. Pain births humor and humor alleviates pain – they are inextricably linked.

In creating the world of this play physically on stage I think it’s important to adhere to Ruhl’s notes on creating a white living room with all white furniture and accents. This will provide the appropriate canvas for the mess of Lane’s life that occurs during Act Two. Aside from the occasional clutter on the coffee table, the space should already be clean from the start. While there are chores to do around the house, I find that Lane’s determination to have a cleaning lady comes more from a societal norm that she is not cleaning her house so she needs to hire someone else to do it, rather than from actual necessity. As previously mentioned, at the top of the play she is living her life in a removed, independent way that is not creating a mess requiring cleaning. I encourage creating our own scenic design that will optimize our utilization of our theatre space, but I do encourage incorporating the balcony design from the Goodman production, which cantilevered out of a skylight.

In conceiving the way lighting will influence our production, I see a very sterile treatment of Lane’s home at the top, though segments of vivid color saturation for Mathilde’s parents. This color saturation should also be present on the balcony scenes in Act Two as well as the surgery scene between Charles and Ana. In a less pronounced way, color can be incorporated into the scenes between Virginia and Mathilde, but should be faded away when Lane reienters the scene. All of this to say that color in our production will be used to signify emotional investment in others. Mathilde’s parents had a huge emotional investment in each other and in Mathilde. Virginia and Mathilde form an emotional bond over the cleaning of Lane’s house and ultimately over their findings in the laundry. This color infusion will finally be incorporated for Lane initially when she enters the saturated world of the balcony when she goes to treat Ana, and then she will bring that saturation back to her own living space when she brings Ana home to care for her as she is dying.

The sound design for our production will also be limited to very specific moments for emotional impact. Music will only be used to underscore scenes between Mathilde’s parents (including the cafe scene), scenes between Charles and Ana (surgery and balcony scenes), while the joke is being told to Ana (it should fade out with her death), and at the close of the play while Mathilde is imagining heaven. In addition to her feelings on the nature, structure, and performance of contemporary plays, Sarah Ruhl has also been quite vocal about the technical rut of scene changes and for this reason I would like to keep them silent. A simple blackout when necessary or lighting transition to signify time passing when acceptable. Ideally this departure from the standardized “light cue+sound cue” of most plays will keep the audience from checking out between scenes, and more importantly save the emotional weight of music for the places in the play when we want that emotional impact.

Our goal is to breath theatrical life into this often humorous, always moving, series of emotional moments in an attempt to reveal the true benefit to living a messy, but ultimately rich, life.

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