Happy Days, Thoughtful Nights

Theatre of the Absurd. It's a type of art that always strikes me most when I stop looking at it as such. Commonly understood through a variety of characters who share a common thread, Theatre of the Absurd features those who seem to be forever tangled in hopeless situations, living in repetitious action devoid of known importance. The text may surface simply as it's often full of nonsensical dialogue and small talk. And Mr. Samuel Beckett seems to dance through absurd ideals with grace and power as he appears to center his work around the concept of loss; and as I remember learning in college, Beckett was drawn to exploring how man's failure of overcoming the idea of absurdity ultimately dictated how he lived in it.

Yikes, right? What I find so fascinating about the idea of absurdity is the boundary in which it lies... so often I find myself in situations or discussions that seem destined for the content of an absurd piece and just as often I will read something deemed as absurd and find true honesty. So when I learned that Cal Shakes would be putting on Beckett's "Happy Days" outside in their beautiful theater, I was anxious to see this challenging work brought to life.

Attending Cal Shakes is often a highlight of my month during the summer season as it combines two of my loves: plays and the chance to pack a picnic. Thanks to my job at The Magic Theatre, I am supplied with complimentary tickets to many of the great playhouses in the bay area, including this wonderful space which is easily one of my favorites. (And here's a tip, if you do go to see a show in the hills of this lovely Orinda theater, I suggest going on a "tasting evening" which are usually held on Tuesdays and Wednesdays. When I went to see "Happy Days" I enjoyed a nice selection of free cheese and figs which enhanced my experience even more. So if you like plays, picnics, and talking about the production, let me share a ticket with you and we'll go together. "A Midsummer's Night Dream" is the next one up...)

Anyway, whether it came from my joy of free delicious food or just the air up there, I found myself consumed in the material. "Happy Days" left me completely heartbroken and I drove back to San Francisco with tears still on my face.

Within the play, we meet Winnie, a woman committed to appearing optimistic regardless of the depth of her despair. Winnie is the only voice we hear throughout the play, excluding a few monosyllabic sounds from her husband Willie, and while she's buried up to her waist in Act I (up to her neck in Act II) she attempts to live in a "normal" fashion. Winnie references a romanticized past, flirts with trivial topics, and strains to smile at it all. She often proclaims, "This will have been another happy day," while fighting tears and speaking at length stopping only to ensure that her Willie is still alive and listening, appearing terrified of the idea of her words going unheard.

To me, the true tragedy of the piece is reflected by the mask of comedy. Winnie is literally becoming engulfed by the Earth but still searches for affirmations of faith and happiness, choosing to laugh when she really wants to cry. In Act II she states, “to have been what I always am – and so changed from what I was”, and my heart dropped for her. I felt honestly boggled to feel so connected to a character that spends most of her time in a land of endless chitchat and yet so close to a harsh reality of my greatest mortal fear.

It's a terrifying thought that we're all basically drowning in matter we can't control. We have no choice but to accept that we're all being buried by it, muster up all of our strength, and attempt a smile. I found myself tearing up a bit as the play closed with the thoughts, "life is so sad! It's all so sad!" passing through my mind. I felt I had been unmasked actually as I tried to understand Winnie. My biggest fear isn't death or being buried alive, it's simply being forgotten. To have spent hours speaking from my heart only to have the words vanish and never remembered, to have spent a lifetime trying to make some difference in this crazy world only to fail, or to have simply allowed myself to love only to completely disappear. Well, that, and I'm also terrified of snakes. But the beauty of witnessing the show, thus another reason why Theatre is nothing short of magical, is that seeing this play awakened these feelings. I was moved and changed after an hour and forty five minutes in the East Bay. What a gift. Seriously. I may have left weeping a little bit and questioning life... and what I'm doing with my own... but it also fired me up, gave me something to want to fight against and work for, and just something to think about. And come on guys, if Uma can get buried alive in Kill Bill Volume Two and then thrive, I'm confident that I too can escape being buried by doom (represented by sand) any day. And if not, I'm going to die trying.

Ah, and with that, I'll leave you. The next show's experience promises to be very different. Hopefully you'll consider sharing in the next "Midsummer" evening?