Arts On Edward Albee
posted by January 9 at 12:49 PMon
So, Albee is coming to town to talk about his “rarely produced play, The Lady from Dubuque.” This event, which is to happen “on Monday, January 15, 2005 at 6:00 p.m. in the Leo K. Theatre of Seattle Repertory Theatre,” is one you should do your very best to avoid. Why? Because few writers in the tradition of American theater are as bad, as vapid, as blunt, as boorish, as obtuse, as this Albee character. It is a wonder that anyone would go out of their way to produce one of his plays, all of which have neither the alacrity of a keen intelligence or the force of good instincts. They are filled with a false sense of importance. They are filled with mucky muck. They are, in the Samkhya theory of matter, the epitome of the tamas guna—heavy, murky, dull. They are noisy and oppressive. They are the products of an imagination that is fueled by big chunks of elephant dung. Albee is an artistic elephant. You know that, right? Of course you do! With just one ear you can hear, from many miles away, his muddy mind plodding on a bad plot. There is no grace, no sensitivity in the pages of his work, just the dumbness of a mass that crashes through trees, stomps on fallen leaves, breaks bark with its rough and thick butt. This is the elephant that writes plays in, that tromps on, our fine language. And yes, I was a student of this monster for a moment.