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ejreadswords's Reviews (100)
dark
emotional
funny
inspiring
lighthearted
reflective
fast-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
A mix
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Yes
Diverse cast of characters:
No
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
“To love with all your heart and know that it will never, ever be returned. And to be loved by someone else whose love you cannot possibly return, even if he were the last man standing. What kind of a God needs a laugh that bad?”
Today's the day. Day one of the 2-year professional conservatory at Stella Adler, where I will be a student, continuing to develop, to train, to hone the craft! To grow as a person. To better understand art. To better understand the world around me.
“But this need to create is… absurd, really. I mean… why? Aren’t there enough things already? Do we really need more? And yet on we go. More books. More plays. More painful poetry poured out in the small hours. And the songs! My God, the songs alone…! Sometimes I think there should be a moratorium on the creation of Art for 100 years. Let’s just take a good look at everything we already have and then maybe decide what else we might need.”
I auditioned for the conservatory with a monologue from Con in this play. I hadn't read the play before, just found it in a book of monologues for young men aged 18-29 (kinda crazy I'm almost outside of that range, eep).
"Why do I want to change the world? BECAUSE IT NEEDS CHANGING! And once upon a time, somewhere, maybe in Eastern Europe, or at least the Eastern Europe of my imagination -- the theater -- was something that could maybe be some tiny, tiny, tiny part of that. And it has got to find its way back to that again. Or it should just go the way of the dodo, and the bellbottom, and the newspaper... and just go away."
Regardless. Tonight I will be performing it one more time (I mean, I'd love to perform it again, because having now read the entire play, Con is such a good role! Either Con or Dev would be tremendous). I figured I needed to read the play, to best understand the character, give the purest performance possible.
And wow. This is just wonderful. At its core, it's just about love and art; and why we love, why are we so crazy to love; and why we make art, why we consume art, why we need art. It's messy, it's raw, it's meta, it's funny, it's heartbreaking. It's life itself. It's enlightening, it's enchanting, and it's stupid. It thinks so highly and so poorly of itself. But Aaron Posner's play is something new. And I feel better having had read it. And here I am logging it on Goodreads. The play gets so meta in saying that the audience will be looking at their phone even before they finish exiting their row. Just to get back to "real-life." How moved actually were you by this? Is Stupid Fucking Bird actually saying something? Or is it just pseudo-intellectual bullshit?
I'm choosing to attach importance to this play forever because it was "my monologue," so to speak. I found it in a random PDF of monologues online, chose it, workshopped it with my voice & speech teacher Celeste, performed it in front of some friends, auditioned in front of Tom & Luis with it, did it again for my callback (this time, filmed) and now tonight. And bringing it back to Stella Adler herself, and having read her book on the Technique of Acting recently, a role like Con is scary for me, but one I'm excited to dive more into. It's giving me permission to swing, to go balls to the wall, to fucking go wild. Because what else are we here for. It's vital and it speaks to the human condition. Con says the quiet parts out loud.
Now I should read Chekhov's The Seagull, but Stupid Fucking Bird is such a wonderful, funny, inspiring entry-point into the legendary Russian text. I love these flawed, fucked-up people.
“You’re all so fucked up in such endlessly fascinating ways that I can’t help but love you. And if you love someone you want to know them, get them, get inside them… so to speak.”
Today's the day. Day one of the 2-year professional conservatory at Stella Adler, where I will be a student, continuing to develop, to train, to hone the craft! To grow as a person. To better understand art. To better understand the world around me.
“But this need to create is… absurd, really. I mean… why? Aren’t there enough things already? Do we really need more? And yet on we go. More books. More plays. More painful poetry poured out in the small hours. And the songs! My God, the songs alone…! Sometimes I think there should be a moratorium on the creation of Art for 100 years. Let’s just take a good look at everything we already have and then maybe decide what else we might need.”
I auditioned for the conservatory with a monologue from Con in this play. I hadn't read the play before, just found it in a book of monologues for young men aged 18-29 (kinda crazy I'm almost outside of that range, eep).
"Why do I want to change the world? BECAUSE IT NEEDS CHANGING! And once upon a time, somewhere, maybe in Eastern Europe, or at least the Eastern Europe of my imagination -- the theater -- was something that could maybe be some tiny, tiny, tiny part of that. And it has got to find its way back to that again. Or it should just go the way of the dodo, and the bellbottom, and the newspaper... and just go away."
Regardless. Tonight I will be performing it one more time (I mean, I'd love to perform it again, because having now read the entire play, Con is such a good role! Either Con or Dev would be tremendous). I figured I needed to read the play, to best understand the character, give the purest performance possible.
And wow. This is just wonderful. At its core, it's just about love and art; and why we love, why are we so crazy to love; and why we make art, why we consume art, why we need art. It's messy, it's raw, it's meta, it's funny, it's heartbreaking. It's life itself. It's enlightening, it's enchanting, and it's stupid. It thinks so highly and so poorly of itself. But Aaron Posner's play is something new. And I feel better having had read it. And here I am logging it on Goodreads. The play gets so meta in saying that the audience will be looking at their phone even before they finish exiting their row. Just to get back to "real-life." How moved actually were you by this? Is Stupid Fucking Bird actually saying something? Or is it just pseudo-intellectual bullshit?
I'm choosing to attach importance to this play forever because it was "my monologue," so to speak. I found it in a random PDF of monologues online, chose it, workshopped it with my voice & speech teacher Celeste, performed it in front of some friends, auditioned in front of Tom & Luis with it, did it again for my callback (this time, filmed) and now tonight. And bringing it back to Stella Adler herself, and having read her book on the Technique of Acting recently, a role like Con is scary for me, but one I'm excited to dive more into. It's giving me permission to swing, to go balls to the wall, to fucking go wild. Because what else are we here for. It's vital and it speaks to the human condition. Con says the quiet parts out loud.
Now I should read Chekhov's The Seagull, but Stupid Fucking Bird is such a wonderful, funny, inspiring entry-point into the legendary Russian text. I love these flawed, fucked-up people.
“You’re all so fucked up in such endlessly fascinating ways that I can’t help but love you. And if you love someone you want to know them, get them, get inside them… so to speak.”
funny
lighthearted
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
A mix
Strong character development:
Complicated
Loveable characters:
Complicated
Diverse cast of characters:
No
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
“Fire that’s closest kept burns most of all.”
In the continued adventures of life at Adler, I chose my first Shakespeare monologue to tackle and work on for class, and it’s Proteus’ “Even as one heat another heat expels” from Act 2, Scene 4. I fell in love with how direct, honest, and ridiculous the monologue was as I was looking online — and it was a change of speed from the contemptuous monologue I auditioned for the Conservatory with (Edmund’s “Now gods, stand up for bastards” from King Lear). I knew I wanted to work on a comedy monologue after auditioning with two tragic characters (Edmund and Con from Stupid Fucking Bird).
And even if this is considered “lesser” Shakespeare, lesser Shakespeare is better than most people’s best. To tell you the truth, I really enjoyed reading this. The male characters are all so freakin’ stupid (Lance and Speed are rather insightful, though), but the female characters possess all the wisdom and patience to just deal with the chutzpah that is these horny, conniving and/or oblivious men.
Poor Julia. Heart aches for her. What a character, and what hot rocks she makes herself walk over for Proteus. Girl, he does NOT deserve it!
Julia, as Sebastian (Act 4, Sc. 4)
“Because methinks that she loved you as well
As you do love your lady Sylvia.
She dreams on him that has forgot her love;
You dote on her that cares not for your love.
’Tis pity love should be so contrary,
And thinking on it makes me cry ‘Alas.’”
I agree with the discourse that Act 5 is rather, uh, concerning. It’s very misogynistic and I cannot believe it just ends “happily ever after.” In Act 4 and 5, I found myself laughing just at Shakespeare’s wondrous wordplay and the messy entanglement he gets his characters involved with — it’s a great setup, but boy, that denouement… the gall of you, William! Male friendship can't excuse EVERYTHING.
A sincere thought I had while reading was, “so many iconic English expressions or phrases must’ve come from this play?” Just incredible phrases like, “Love is blind,” or “And seal the bargain with a holy kiss” (maybe that’s not iconic, but I’m pretty sure there was a Disney Channel show that referenced this?).
I’m really excited to dive into my Proteus monologue. He’s such a fuckboy! And I can’t say that I’m much of that. But it’ll be fun to lean into.
In the continued adventures of life at Adler, I chose my first Shakespeare monologue to tackle and work on for class, and it’s Proteus’ “Even as one heat another heat expels” from Act 2, Scene 4. I fell in love with how direct, honest, and ridiculous the monologue was as I was looking online — and it was a change of speed from the contemptuous monologue I auditioned for the Conservatory with (Edmund’s “Now gods, stand up for bastards” from King Lear). I knew I wanted to work on a comedy monologue after auditioning with two tragic characters (Edmund and Con from Stupid Fucking Bird).
And even if this is considered “lesser” Shakespeare, lesser Shakespeare is better than most people’s best. To tell you the truth, I really enjoyed reading this. The male characters are all so freakin’ stupid (Lance and Speed are rather insightful, though), but the female characters possess all the wisdom and patience to just deal with the chutzpah that is these horny, conniving and/or oblivious men.
Poor Julia. Heart aches for her. What a character, and what hot rocks she makes herself walk over for Proteus. Girl, he does NOT deserve it!
Julia, as Sebastian (Act 4, Sc. 4)
“Because methinks that she loved you as well
As you do love your lady Sylvia.
She dreams on him that has forgot her love;
You dote on her that cares not for your love.
’Tis pity love should be so contrary,
And thinking on it makes me cry ‘Alas.’”
I agree with the discourse that Act 5 is rather, uh, concerning. It’s very misogynistic and I cannot believe it just ends “happily ever after.” In Act 4 and 5, I found myself laughing just at Shakespeare’s wondrous wordplay and the messy entanglement he gets his characters involved with — it’s a great setup, but boy, that denouement… the gall of you, William! Male friendship can't excuse EVERYTHING.
A sincere thought I had while reading was, “so many iconic English expressions or phrases must’ve come from this play?” Just incredible phrases like, “Love is blind,” or “And seal the bargain with a holy kiss” (maybe that’s not iconic, but I’m pretty sure there was a Disney Channel show that referenced this?).
I’m really excited to dive into my Proteus monologue. He’s such a fuckboy! And I can’t say that I’m much of that. But it’ll be fun to lean into.
funny
lighthearted
reflective
sad
fast-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
A mix
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Yes
Diverse cast of characters:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
“You cashed in silver, Mr. Iscariot, but me? Me, I threw away God… that’s a fact. That’s a natural fact.”
Love a lot of the ideas thrown in this play. As someone riddled with Catholic guilt, I loved some of the play’s sentiments profusely.
I shall admit, perhaps my least favorite thing I’ve read for Stella Adler so far. If I were 16, maybe this would’ve been the funniest, coolest, most profound play I’ve ever read. It comes across more as juvenile to me now. I’m not so sure that time will help my relationship with this play.
But I read this because my first character in Scene Study is… SATAN. Because when you look at me, you think Satan, right? lol. Was flattered and almost nervous that this was the first character my Scene Study teacher gave me solely from my monologue performance on Day 1. I do like my scene that I’m working on; it’s silly.
The monologues in this play are nice. Especially the final, devastating one by Butch.
Still, some of the dialogue is so swear-y and vulgar for the sake of it; not because it adds anything.
Love a lot of the ideas thrown in this play. As someone riddled with Catholic guilt, I loved some of the play’s sentiments profusely.
I shall admit, perhaps my least favorite thing I’ve read for Stella Adler so far. If I were 16, maybe this would’ve been the funniest, coolest, most profound play I’ve ever read. It comes across more as juvenile to me now. I’m not so sure that time will help my relationship with this play.
But I read this because my first character in Scene Study is… SATAN. Because when you look at me, you think Satan, right? lol. Was flattered and almost nervous that this was the first character my Scene Study teacher gave me solely from my monologue performance on Day 1. I do like my scene that I’m working on; it’s silly.
The monologues in this play are nice. Especially the final, devastating one by Butch.
Still, some of the dialogue is so swear-y and vulgar for the sake of it; not because it adds anything.
adventurous
dark
emotional
reflective
sad
tense
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Yes
Diverse cast of characters:
No
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
“Maybe no one else gives a damn if you die, but I do. My kid brother. I love your guts, Kid. Everything else is gone. You’re all I’ve got left.”
My Acting Technique teacher Josh at Stella Adler — who I think the world of, and am so profoundly inspired by after every class — frequently cites this play in class. He uses it as an example a lot in terms of ‘character,’ ‘objective’ (for James Tyrone Sr., his objective is to ‘get this fucking night over with’). Josh spoiled the entire play, essentially, in our first class, but the tragedy of the arc of the story actually just compelled me to buy a copy for myself and read. I’m a sucker for long-gestating familial drama; and boy, is that what this play is about!
And it’s, quite horrifyingly and vulnerably, largely an autobiographical work for Eugene O’Neill — his character equivalent is the sickly Edmund in this story. This play was not published while he was alive, and it’s now considered his masterpiece and he won the Pulitzer for Drama posthumously. Once on Broadway, it also won the Tony for Best Play.
“To hell with sense! We’re all crazy. What do we want with sense?”
I’ve long related to the Irish Catholics, and maybe that’s because of the strong familial ties, the Catholic guilt, and the problems spurred by alcoholism — mostly because of built-up traumas and the incorrect, or misguided, attempts at remedying those traumas. This play is funny, it's mean, it's so honest, and it is LIFE. I understand each character; they're all right, and they're all wrong. You can't blame any of them. And sure, you can. But you aren't in their shoes. Despite everything, it's such empathetic writing for each character.
And this play has some beautiful dialogue — vicious and vitriolic, painful yet profound. From the opening scene descriptions and the attention-to-detail of books on the Tyrone bookshelves, you just know that there will be intelligent conversations on art, the burdens of art, and on varying philosophies in regards to life, death, religion, and the hereafter.
There’s many reasons for these conflicting viewpoints and discontent; and a lot of it ties back to the dark power of money — needing it to provide, but also being so driven by it (what’s the value of a dollar?). Its importance so emphasized because of Senior’s poor upbringing in Ireland, and then him being a penny-pincher because that’s all he knows — and him being blamed for being cheap and providing below-average healthcare and doctoral options for Mary and Edmund. This play really gets in there, and these characters are exorcising the demons that have long been festering for years, if not decades.
“But I suppose life has made him like that, and he can’t help it. None of us can help the things life has done to us. They’re done before you realize it, and once they’re done they make you do other things until at last everything comes between you and what you’d like to be; and you’ve lost your true self forever.”
Poor Mary. Poor Senior. Poor Edmund. Poor Jamie. And yes, Poor Cathleen.
A masterwork. Never have I seen so much stage direction or character description in a play, but it really, really works for this play. It’s so easy to visualize; however I can’t wait to watch a production of this, or a film, or to PERFORM in it. I think I could do either of the brothers right now or James Senior when I’m older; let’s just pretend I’m Irish for the sake of it. Or I’d love to adapt this and make a Filipino version of this…
“I know you still love me, James, in spite of everything.”
My Acting Technique teacher Josh at Stella Adler — who I think the world of, and am so profoundly inspired by after every class — frequently cites this play in class. He uses it as an example a lot in terms of ‘character,’ ‘objective’ (for James Tyrone Sr., his objective is to ‘get this fucking night over with’). Josh spoiled the entire play, essentially, in our first class, but the tragedy of the arc of the story actually just compelled me to buy a copy for myself and read. I’m a sucker for long-gestating familial drama; and boy, is that what this play is about!
And it’s, quite horrifyingly and vulnerably, largely an autobiographical work for Eugene O’Neill — his character equivalent is the sickly Edmund in this story. This play was not published while he was alive, and it’s now considered his masterpiece and he won the Pulitzer for Drama posthumously. Once on Broadway, it also won the Tony for Best Play.
“To hell with sense! We’re all crazy. What do we want with sense?”
I’ve long related to the Irish Catholics, and maybe that’s because of the strong familial ties, the Catholic guilt, and the problems spurred by alcoholism — mostly because of built-up traumas and the incorrect, or misguided, attempts at remedying those traumas. This play is funny, it's mean, it's so honest, and it is LIFE. I understand each character; they're all right, and they're all wrong. You can't blame any of them. And sure, you can. But you aren't in their shoes. Despite everything, it's such empathetic writing for each character.
And this play has some beautiful dialogue — vicious and vitriolic, painful yet profound. From the opening scene descriptions and the attention-to-detail of books on the Tyrone bookshelves, you just know that there will be intelligent conversations on art, the burdens of art, and on varying philosophies in regards to life, death, religion, and the hereafter.
There’s many reasons for these conflicting viewpoints and discontent; and a lot of it ties back to the dark power of money — needing it to provide, but also being so driven by it (what’s the value of a dollar?). Its importance so emphasized because of Senior’s poor upbringing in Ireland, and then him being a penny-pincher because that’s all he knows — and him being blamed for being cheap and providing below-average healthcare and doctoral options for Mary and Edmund. This play really gets in there, and these characters are exorcising the demons that have long been festering for years, if not decades.
“But I suppose life has made him like that, and he can’t help it. None of us can help the things life has done to us. They’re done before you realize it, and once they’re done they make you do other things until at last everything comes between you and what you’d like to be; and you’ve lost your true self forever.”
Poor Mary. Poor Senior. Poor Edmund. Poor Jamie. And yes, Poor Cathleen.
A masterwork. Never have I seen so much stage direction or character description in a play, but it really, really works for this play. It’s so easy to visualize; however I can’t wait to watch a production of this, or a film, or to PERFORM in it. I think I could do either of the brothers right now or James Senior when I’m older; let’s just pretend I’m Irish for the sake of it. Or I’d love to adapt this and make a Filipino version of this…
“I know you still love me, James, in spite of everything.”
dark
emotional
funny
lighthearted
reflective
sad
slow-paced
“So don’t ever worry, because anywhere you go. If you’re ever short. Back to the wall. Remember the blood. The blood.”
I watched the Sam Mendes-directed The Hills of California twice already on Broadway. Both times, I wept. The first viewing, I took advantage of the 2-for-1 ticket offer; second viewing, I scored some free tix through school! I tweeted about it after the first time, and then the show itself used my praise for sponsored content — I love that they did, I wouldn’t mind if they sent me a hat or a t-shirt or something :)
Anyway, that masterpiece of a show was written by the Tony-winning playwright Jez Butterworth. Separately, my Technique teacher Josh brought up the character Johnny “Rooster” Byron from Jerusalem in class as a firecracker role; a character that perhaps doesn’t learn anything. I don’t remember if that’s exactly what he said, but Johnny is such a tragic, sad character. But I suppose it depends? Maybe he really gets stuff more than us; but he numbs himself so much with the hard drugs and liquor, and while he has a natural empathy for the burnouts and outcasts of rural Britain (and is salvation for some young people who are most likely being abused in their family homes), it still takes a toll. Whatever Johnny needed to “learn” he simply knows already; and knowledge is a curse for him.
“School is a lie. Prison’s a waste of time. Girls are wondrous. Grab your fill. No man was ever lain in his barrow wishing he’d loved one less woman. Don’t listen to no one and nothing but what your own heart bids. Lie. Cheat. Steal. Fight to the death. Don’t give up. Show me your teeth.”
There are some rich, meaty dialogue exchanges here. Frequently funny, at times vicious. There are a few truly grounded moments, and the first time we meet Johnny’s ex-wife Dawn and his estranged six-year-old son, the whole idea of that scene, and how loaded & pissed Johnny was during it — it’s so sad. Would’ve been incredible to see Mark Rylance perform this role.
“I’m heavy stone, me. You try and pick me up, I’ll break your spine.”
Johnny’s a chaotic man, but at least he’s not a hypocrite. He’s been beaten down numerous times in life, but he’s got the spirit to keep rising up. However, it’s so sad to witness how used he is to being beaten down; he’s a masochist and wants the pain. His way of living is harming his body (from being a stuntman to then donating his special blood every six weeks). He’s posturing just as much as everyone else; he tries his best to be perceived as tough, hard, all-knowing. When people try to tear him down, it doesn’t really affect him, tragically. Maybe it’s because he’s drunk out of his mind, but I believe he already knows. And there’s nothing he can, or is willing to do to change that.
“And even if you gets us all killed today, at least we’ll all show up in Heaven pissed. Cheers!”
I watched the Sam Mendes-directed The Hills of California twice already on Broadway. Both times, I wept. The first viewing, I took advantage of the 2-for-1 ticket offer; second viewing, I scored some free tix through school! I tweeted about it after the first time, and then the show itself used my praise for sponsored content — I love that they did, I wouldn’t mind if they sent me a hat or a t-shirt or something :)
Anyway, that masterpiece of a show was written by the Tony-winning playwright Jez Butterworth. Separately, my Technique teacher Josh brought up the character Johnny “Rooster” Byron from Jerusalem in class as a firecracker role; a character that perhaps doesn’t learn anything. I don’t remember if that’s exactly what he said, but Johnny is such a tragic, sad character. But I suppose it depends? Maybe he really gets stuff more than us; but he numbs himself so much with the hard drugs and liquor, and while he has a natural empathy for the burnouts and outcasts of rural Britain (and is salvation for some young people who are most likely being abused in their family homes), it still takes a toll. Whatever Johnny needed to “learn” he simply knows already; and knowledge is a curse for him.
“School is a lie. Prison’s a waste of time. Girls are wondrous. Grab your fill. No man was ever lain in his barrow wishing he’d loved one less woman. Don’t listen to no one and nothing but what your own heart bids. Lie. Cheat. Steal. Fight to the death. Don’t give up. Show me your teeth.”
There are some rich, meaty dialogue exchanges here. Frequently funny, at times vicious. There are a few truly grounded moments, and the first time we meet Johnny’s ex-wife Dawn and his estranged six-year-old son, the whole idea of that scene, and how loaded & pissed Johnny was during it — it’s so sad. Would’ve been incredible to see Mark Rylance perform this role.
“I’m heavy stone, me. You try and pick me up, I’ll break your spine.”
Johnny’s a chaotic man, but at least he’s not a hypocrite. He’s been beaten down numerous times in life, but he’s got the spirit to keep rising up. However, it’s so sad to witness how used he is to being beaten down; he’s a masochist and wants the pain. His way of living is harming his body (from being a stuntman to then donating his special blood every six weeks). He’s posturing just as much as everyone else; he tries his best to be perceived as tough, hard, all-knowing. When people try to tear him down, it doesn’t really affect him, tragically. Maybe it’s because he’s drunk out of his mind, but I believe he already knows. And there’s nothing he can, or is willing to do to change that.
“And even if you gets us all killed today, at least we’ll all show up in Heaven pissed. Cheers!”
challenging
dark
funny
mysterious
reflective
tense
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
Complicated
Loveable characters:
Complicated
Diverse cast of characters:
No
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
“Do I look the sort of person who lets go? I know what’s coming to me. I’m going to burn, and it’s to last forever. Yes, I know everything. But do you think I’ll let go?”
What the fuck, man? I loved this so much. It’s funny, I checked this out of my local library maybe a year or two ago, because I wanted to get into French existentialism (lol). Clearly I just wanted to look the part, because I checked it out and never opened it. Well, I did once, and was surprised to see that No Exit, which Google told me was a fundamental philosophical text, was a play.
What’s that? EJ reading another play? Gonna be the next two years, pretty much, at minimum. And perhaps longer, because I’m REALLY enjoying reading plays at the moment. If I get nothing else from acting school (though that’s already an impossibility — I feel so nourished!), at least I’d have read some good plays while training.
It felt right to read this now. Because of the fact I meant to read this before, it’s been gestating in my subconscious; and also because Naomi from Year 2 performed a monologue from this play as part of her day one showcase for this school year. And the Marlon Brando library at school has over 2,500 books, mostly plays. We can check out whatever we want. I'm there five days a week anyway... the ease of access is just amazing. So many worlds in there. UGH, so exciting.
“If they’d put me in a room with men — men can keep their mouths shut. But it’s no use wanting the impossible.”
Oh my god, is this play so funny and so fucking hopeless. Right from the jump, and it does not let up. The dialogue is just too good. We are the sum of our actions, and we live as long as we’re going to live. These three characters aren’t TOO awful, but they are just the right flavor of cilantro to each other to really just get on each other’s nerves. Hell is a crowded room, or perhaps more apropos:
“Hell is other people!”
Amazing, I forgot / didn’t realize that this play coined that iconic phrase. Oh, the joys of being PERCEIVED.
“One always dies too soon—or too late. And yet one’s whole life is complete at that moment, with a line drawn neatly under it, ready for the summing up. You are—your life, and nothing else.”
I love Inez. My favorite character by a mile, and perhaps she’s most people’s favorite? She, seemingly, is the most normal. But “normal” in hell means to be aware and to have knowledge, and that is clearly Inez’ deep-seeded burden; ignorance would certainly be bliss in Hell. If I could characterize each character with one adjective, it’d be as such:
Garcin the Coward. Inez the Neurotic. Estelle the Vain.
They’re all wonderful characters; you get them and understand them. Can you define a person by one action? These people really aren’t that bad, at the end of the day. But while on Earth, they’ve each done something — that mortal sin-like action — that damned them forever. And they don’t make mistakes in Hell.
“I’m your lark-mirror, my dear, and you can’t escape me.”
So freakin’ good. I technically read this in two sittings (it’s not that long, just a bit over 40 pages), but that was only because of the train and me having to stop after just picking it up. Next time I read, I’ll probably do it all in one sitting. I want to do a table-read of this! Or fuck, even perform it. Garcin’s an interesting character; I’m haunted that he just wants the faith of one other person to believe he’s not a coward. And he can’t even find that one. In his fight or flight moment on Earth, he chose to flee. And it’ll haunt him forever.
What a play. What a work. Sartre? Damn. I’ve got three other plays by him and I’m ready to dive in. Speaking of philosophers, I already am citing Nietzsche to some friends in passing, though I mean it in as positive of a way as possible; our lives have no inherent meaning other than what we impose on it — therefore we are the ones who choose to see that our life is great, we take the chaos and mold it into something beautiful.
Where did I learn that Nietzsche sentiment from? Another monologue I performed from a play called North to Maine. Oh, man, who the hell is even reading this? Doesn't matter. I do it for me.
What the fuck, man? I loved this so much. It’s funny, I checked this out of my local library maybe a year or two ago, because I wanted to get into French existentialism (lol). Clearly I just wanted to look the part, because I checked it out and never opened it. Well, I did once, and was surprised to see that No Exit, which Google told me was a fundamental philosophical text, was a play.
What’s that? EJ reading another play? Gonna be the next two years, pretty much, at minimum. And perhaps longer, because I’m REALLY enjoying reading plays at the moment. If I get nothing else from acting school (though that’s already an impossibility — I feel so nourished!), at least I’d have read some good plays while training.
It felt right to read this now. Because of the fact I meant to read this before, it’s been gestating in my subconscious; and also because Naomi from Year 2 performed a monologue from this play as part of her day one showcase for this school year. And the Marlon Brando library at school has over 2,500 books, mostly plays. We can check out whatever we want. I'm there five days a week anyway... the ease of access is just amazing. So many worlds in there. UGH, so exciting.
“If they’d put me in a room with men — men can keep their mouths shut. But it’s no use wanting the impossible.”
Oh my god, is this play so funny and so fucking hopeless. Right from the jump, and it does not let up. The dialogue is just too good. We are the sum of our actions, and we live as long as we’re going to live. These three characters aren’t TOO awful, but they are just the right flavor of cilantro to each other to really just get on each other’s nerves. Hell is a crowded room, or perhaps more apropos:
“Hell is other people!”
Amazing, I forgot / didn’t realize that this play coined that iconic phrase. Oh, the joys of being PERCEIVED.
“One always dies too soon—or too late. And yet one’s whole life is complete at that moment, with a line drawn neatly under it, ready for the summing up. You are—your life, and nothing else.”
I love Inez. My favorite character by a mile, and perhaps she’s most people’s favorite? She, seemingly, is the most normal. But “normal” in hell means to be aware and to have knowledge, and that is clearly Inez’ deep-seeded burden; ignorance would certainly be bliss in Hell. If I could characterize each character with one adjective, it’d be as such:
Garcin the Coward. Inez the Neurotic. Estelle the Vain.
They’re all wonderful characters; you get them and understand them. Can you define a person by one action? These people really aren’t that bad, at the end of the day. But while on Earth, they’ve each done something — that mortal sin-like action — that damned them forever. And they don’t make mistakes in Hell.
“I’m your lark-mirror, my dear, and you can’t escape me.”
So freakin’ good. I technically read this in two sittings (it’s not that long, just a bit over 40 pages), but that was only because of the train and me having to stop after just picking it up. Next time I read, I’ll probably do it all in one sitting. I want to do a table-read of this! Or fuck, even perform it. Garcin’s an interesting character; I’m haunted that he just wants the faith of one other person to believe he’s not a coward. And he can’t even find that one. In his fight or flight moment on Earth, he chose to flee. And it’ll haunt him forever.
What a play. What a work. Sartre? Damn. I’ve got three other plays by him and I’m ready to dive in. Speaking of philosophers, I already am citing Nietzsche to some friends in passing, though I mean it in as positive of a way as possible; our lives have no inherent meaning other than what we impose on it — therefore we are the ones who choose to see that our life is great, we take the chaos and mold it into something beautiful.
Where did I learn that Nietzsche sentiment from? Another monologue I performed from a play called North to Maine. Oh, man, who the hell is even reading this? Doesn't matter. I do it for me.
dark
emotional
funny
hopeful
reflective
sad
slow-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Yes
Diverse cast of characters:
No
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
“No. No. She was like: the state of just having lost something is like the most enlightened state in the world. And I thought of that last night, and all of a sudden I felt incredible. I was simultaneously like being stabbed in the heart over and over again with this like devil knife but I also felt euphoric. And then I sat down and I wrote like twenty pages.”
Last week at the bar after our Friday classes, there was a moment when I was having a convo with my friends/classmates Dan and Romeo (this convo was about types of roles we want to play, specifically in regards to our Scene Study class). We bounced around a bit, but when we got to the subject of Annie Baker, I said I read The Flick and wanted to do Avery’s monologue from it; this inspired Dan to say to Romeo, “you know what… EJ would be really good as the kid in The Aliens.” Dan then shifted his attention to me, “I mean, you have a young face. It’d work. The kid’s Jewish, though… but still, I think you’d be great as the kid.”
“Sometimes the Fourth, like, depresses me.”
Boy, this was such an easy read! Finished in one sitting after beginning ~1am-ish and then writing this review at 3:15am -- great life choices once again, EJ. However fast it took me to read I’m sure it’d be at least three or four times as long to watch — so many pauses! And Annie Baker wrote in her note that “at least a third—if not half—of this play is silence.” I had to picture in my head, or feel it with some of the play’s haymakers of musings, how the silences filled the space. What wasn’t being said; what was being thought of. What the characters were afraid of talking about or diving deeper into — but they never had to, because they know. And we know as an (attentive) audience because Annie Baker goes Chekhov with this play. Not like I’m some Chekhov expert, but it's the idea of “Going Beyond” — of doing everything we can possibly be doing except talking about the thing.
I’m flattered Dan thought of me as being potentially a good fit for the role of Evan, the 17-year-old newbie employee at the coffeeshop, who is described as being “in a constant state of humiliation” when we first meet him. …Thanks Dan?
“Maybe you’re a genius too!”
Pause.
“Yeah.”
But it’s a great character. And I identified very much with his initial awkwardness, and then with how attracted and magnetized he was with his two new friends — who on the surface seem like 30+ year old burnouts, drinking on the back porch of a coffeeshop shooting the shit every day.
End of Act One was so beautiful, with distinctly some of my favorite moments and ideas. When I finished reading the play, I had to re-read excerpts of Jasper’s novel that he was reading to KJ (and later Evan). It hits so hard. The ideas of immense… disappointment. The lack of fulfillment. That on the character’s journey of America, a lot of American cities look like… other American places. America looks like the rest of America. Jasper’s disillusionment is hidden in plain sight; Annie Baker is such an incredible writer.
Act Two is so disarming, it’s a magic trick. Evan has one scene where he has a phone call with someone he met at the camp he was at, and ugh, I teared up a bit at the implication of it all. There were a couple moments between KJ and Evan that really got me in Act Two.
Dane DeHaan was the original Evan of The Aliens. There’s something about Dane DeHaan that I think I can channel… I’ve always loved the work I’ve seen of him. His performance in Chronicle moved me immensely when I was in high school. He was 27 playing a high school sophomore or something. …I can do the same!!! Lmao.
Last week at the bar after our Friday classes, there was a moment when I was having a convo with my friends/classmates Dan and Romeo (this convo was about types of roles we want to play, specifically in regards to our Scene Study class). We bounced around a bit, but when we got to the subject of Annie Baker, I said I read The Flick and wanted to do Avery’s monologue from it; this inspired Dan to say to Romeo, “you know what… EJ would be really good as the kid in The Aliens.” Dan then shifted his attention to me, “I mean, you have a young face. It’d work. The kid’s Jewish, though… but still, I think you’d be great as the kid.”
“Sometimes the Fourth, like, depresses me.”
Boy, this was such an easy read! Finished in one sitting after beginning ~1am-ish and then writing this review at 3:15am -- great life choices once again, EJ. However fast it took me to read I’m sure it’d be at least three or four times as long to watch — so many pauses! And Annie Baker wrote in her note that “at least a third—if not half—of this play is silence.” I had to picture in my head, or feel it with some of the play’s haymakers of musings, how the silences filled the space. What wasn’t being said; what was being thought of. What the characters were afraid of talking about or diving deeper into — but they never had to, because they know. And we know as an (attentive) audience because Annie Baker goes Chekhov with this play. Not like I’m some Chekhov expert, but it's the idea of “Going Beyond” — of doing everything we can possibly be doing except talking about the thing.
I’m flattered Dan thought of me as being potentially a good fit for the role of Evan, the 17-year-old newbie employee at the coffeeshop, who is described as being “in a constant state of humiliation” when we first meet him. …Thanks Dan?
“Maybe you’re a genius too!”
Pause.
“Yeah.”
But it’s a great character. And I identified very much with his initial awkwardness, and then with how attracted and magnetized he was with his two new friends — who on the surface seem like 30+ year old burnouts, drinking on the back porch of a coffeeshop shooting the shit every day.
End of Act One was so beautiful, with distinctly some of my favorite moments and ideas. When I finished reading the play, I had to re-read excerpts of Jasper’s novel that he was reading to KJ (and later Evan). It hits so hard. The ideas of immense… disappointment. The lack of fulfillment. That on the character’s journey of America, a lot of American cities look like… other American places. America looks like the rest of America. Jasper’s disillusionment is hidden in plain sight; Annie Baker is such an incredible writer.
Act Two is so disarming, it’s a magic trick. Evan has one scene where he has a phone call with someone he met at the camp he was at, and ugh, I teared up a bit at the implication of it all. There were a couple moments between KJ and Evan that really got me in Act Two.
Dane DeHaan was the original Evan of The Aliens. There’s something about Dane DeHaan that I think I can channel… I’ve always loved the work I’ve seen of him. His performance in Chronicle moved me immensely when I was in high school. He was 27 playing a high school sophomore or something. …I can do the same!!! Lmao.
dark
emotional
mysterious
reflective
sad
tense
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
A mix
Strong character development:
Complicated
Loveable characters:
Complicated
Diverse cast of characters:
No
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
“I’ve had hell inside me. I can spot it in others.”
Okay. Wow. This is freakin’ brilliant. So heartbreaking. Pipe dreams, who needs ‘em?
…right?
“It’s worse if you kill someone and they have to go on living. I’d be glad of the Chair! It’d wipe it out! It’d square me with myself.”
As a read, I think I enjoyed this or was moved more than I was with Long Day’s Journey Into Night, which I think perhaps is the minority opinion? But these two works are some of O’Neill’s masterpieces. I won’t protest the idea that WATCHING or even performing in Long Day’s Journey Into Night is more affecting than Iceman Cometh. But I did in fact LOVE immensely both plays.
The play’s biggest point that it makes is that we need that reason, that hope, that pipe dream, to genuinely keep going. Hickey is all talk when he tells the regulars at the bar to give up their pipe dreams and go ahead and DO what they keep saying they’ll do ‘tomorrow’ or ‘when the time’s right.’ I’ll admit, some of Hickey’s earlier points I did agree with in certain contexts.
I can even speak for myself, if I never applied to acting school when I did, I don’t think I ever would’ve. Perhaps since late 2019 or early 2020, I was saying, “when the TD Ameritrade and Schwab integration completes, I’m gonna do something! I’m gonna go back to school, I’ll get a new job, whatever.” Now, antithetical to what happens to the doomed characters in this play, I did DO THE THING and I feel so much happier.
“A stew bum is a stew bum and yuh can’t change him.”
This play is in conversation with Kierkegaard’s musing and philosophy (which I frequently cite since it’s so important and is my MO): “happiness is in desire; so long as there is desire, there is hope, and there is potential for said happiness. Even if happiness doesn’t exist in the current moment.” So long as you’re hoping for something, you’re looking forward to something, you know that what you’re enduring is in service for something bigger, or something outside of yourself — you can keep going!
And Hickey, being all talk, and trying to convince himself the most of all (unsuccessfully), tells everyone, and I'm paraphrasing now, “give up! Accept who you are and you’ll be liberated.”
A secondary interpretation of everything happening… don’t drink! This is as much of an anti-drinking PSA as anything; but, to which I can also contend: “the social drinker will live longer than the friendless, straight-edge individual.” Because Hickey, sober as can be throughout the play, is the play’s biggest firecracker.
Some great characters and great threads. Perhaps one too many characters in this script, which is why more contemporary adaptations remove one or two characters completely. The play truly begins when Hickey shows up initially, but it takes more than 40-50 pages for that to happen.
There are some incredible, heartbreaking, and tragic monologues here. I love these characters and what they have to say. That final sequence? There’s no other way this play could’ve honestly ended, and it’s perfect, and it’s hellish, and it’s purgatory. So cynical, but so real.
Okay. Wow. This is freakin’ brilliant. So heartbreaking. Pipe dreams, who needs ‘em?
…right?
“It’s worse if you kill someone and they have to go on living. I’d be glad of the Chair! It’d wipe it out! It’d square me with myself.”
As a read, I think I enjoyed this or was moved more than I was with Long Day’s Journey Into Night, which I think perhaps is the minority opinion? But these two works are some of O’Neill’s masterpieces. I won’t protest the idea that WATCHING or even performing in Long Day’s Journey Into Night is more affecting than Iceman Cometh. But I did in fact LOVE immensely both plays.
The play’s biggest point that it makes is that we need that reason, that hope, that pipe dream, to genuinely keep going. Hickey is all talk when he tells the regulars at the bar to give up their pipe dreams and go ahead and DO what they keep saying they’ll do ‘tomorrow’ or ‘when the time’s right.’ I’ll admit, some of Hickey’s earlier points I did agree with in certain contexts.
I can even speak for myself, if I never applied to acting school when I did, I don’t think I ever would’ve. Perhaps since late 2019 or early 2020, I was saying, “when the TD Ameritrade and Schwab integration completes, I’m gonna do something! I’m gonna go back to school, I’ll get a new job, whatever.” Now, antithetical to what happens to the doomed characters in this play, I did DO THE THING and I feel so much happier.
“A stew bum is a stew bum and yuh can’t change him.”
This play is in conversation with Kierkegaard’s musing and philosophy (which I frequently cite since it’s so important and is my MO): “happiness is in desire; so long as there is desire, there is hope, and there is potential for said happiness. Even if happiness doesn’t exist in the current moment.” So long as you’re hoping for something, you’re looking forward to something, you know that what you’re enduring is in service for something bigger, or something outside of yourself — you can keep going!
And Hickey, being all talk, and trying to convince himself the most of all (unsuccessfully), tells everyone, and I'm paraphrasing now, “give up! Accept who you are and you’ll be liberated.”
A secondary interpretation of everything happening… don’t drink! This is as much of an anti-drinking PSA as anything; but, to which I can also contend: “the social drinker will live longer than the friendless, straight-edge individual.” Because Hickey, sober as can be throughout the play, is the play’s biggest firecracker.
Some great characters and great threads. Perhaps one too many characters in this script, which is why more contemporary adaptations remove one or two characters completely. The play truly begins when Hickey shows up initially, but it takes more than 40-50 pages for that to happen.
There are some incredible, heartbreaking, and tragic monologues here. I love these characters and what they have to say. That final sequence? There’s no other way this play could’ve honestly ended, and it’s perfect, and it’s hellish, and it’s purgatory. So cynical, but so real.
adventurous
challenging
dark
funny
mysterious
tense
fast-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
A mix
Strong character development:
Complicated
Loveable characters:
Yes
Diverse cast of characters:
No
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
“I’m not denying anything — I feel it all — and it’s a privilege to suffer as much as I do.”
There’s so much I can say about this play, about this show. And I will! This is my Goodreads, and I can ramble and rant if I want to.
For the longest time, the ads of this show on social media or the subway always intrigued me. “Oh, it’s Frank from Succession. And it looks like he’s typecast again to be a corporate ‘employee.’” The office visuals and the stapler to Sydney Lemmon’s face made me think this was about two co-workers shooting the breeze existentially at their cubicles.
However, that is not what the show’s about. I went into the show mostly blind, and was successfully going to be able to do so until my summer Adler classmate Jared (who I took with me the first time I saw the play) told me at dinner prior to the show that, ‘yeah, so it’s about a social media worker who has a viral video and needs to see a therapist?’ I wish I hadn’t known that, but still, that is only the tip of the iceberg of what this play’s about.
When I tell you my jaw dropped when I realized what the show’s “about”… I think I even teared up. The specificity, me working in social media for the past seven years, and watching a young woman in disarray vent, process, and ramble about an uncertain world, her sense of ‘purpose,’ and every little thing in between: there was so much to love. Jane is truly one of my all-time favorite characters — I see a lot myself in Jane, and I think a lot of young people would, too. And Sydney Lemmon’s performance? Lord have mercy. Absolutely incredible stuff.
“It’s endless and hopeless because you just get trapped in the like “discourse” of it all and you just end up mindlessly reposting GoFundMes all day, begging for spare change on your little Instagram street corner on behalf of strangers instead of actually doing something so I’m just not sure therapy aligns with how I deal with things.”
So that first night I saw the show, I walked with my friend Jared to the subway. We parted, but I had it in the back of my mind, since I was still so floored by the show, “I gotta see if they’re going to do stage door!” I went back to the theater and a few folks were still waiting. I asked if anyone came out yet, and they said no one yet. Soon, Peter Friedman came out and he was so generous talking to everyone who waited. When he got to me, I told him about how much I loved the show, how I went in blind and was floored; that my day job is in social media. And how moved I was with his performance and Sydney’s because… the following week I’d be starting at Stella Adler in their conservatory! He did this cool little hop and clapped his hands and said to me, “wow, that’s some change! What inspired this?” And I told him just the burning inside of you to want to create, to want to say something. Watching the two of them perform was the perfect primer for school. He extended his hand and shook my hand, wished me luck, and thanked me for coming again.
And then Sydney came out — some people had cleared out, didn’t feel like waiting. But I knew I needed to speak to her because her performance was just so, so moving for me. Kind of had a similar intro as with Peter, and when I told her I was starting at Stella Adler next week, she said, “hell yes!” and then she gave me a high-five, and then did a little hand-hug with me. She was genuinely floored for me, it seemed, and she told me that part of what took her so long to come outside was that one of her acting school professors was at the show and so she caught up with him; the training and education is absolutely essential. She told me to keep seeing theater, keep staying inspired. I had gushed to her how great I thought she was and how moved I was and she was so appreciative of that. Took pics with both Peter and Sydney that night and I remember walking back and getting a late-night bite at Junior’s still floored.
“You don’t know yourself and so you can’t accept the idea that anyone else might.”
Through TKTS, I got discounted tickets to see the show again — this would make it two viewings in about three weeks. It didn’t matter to me, I knew the show was closing soon and I just wanted to immerse myself once more. I ended up taking my conservatory classmate Nour — it was his first Broadway play! And he was so grateful for the chance. He ended up really enjoying the play, and that was validating for me. Glad it didn’t go to waste! Such a great show to have a conversation about after; it invites so much discourse. Nour even wanted to see it again the weekend after with a friend from Chicago; I was like, “this was your first Broadway play, you could see anything else!”
Cut to the announcement of Closing Night. And the very effective social media-posting by Max Wolf-Friedlich and the JOB IG page — I splurged on second-row seats. I took my friend Andrew with me, heavily influenced by the fact that we both worked in social media together for a year; and we have conversations about ‘advertisers not wanting their ads to pop up next to neo-Nazi content.’ I’ve never seen a play three times before, but if there’s any show that would make me do it, it’s JOB. If it wasn’t closing, maybe I’d see it again! It was regularly featured in TKTS.
And this viewing was probably the best. Just leaned in, floored by the performances. The most I ever teared up — this is not really a ‘sobbing’ type of show, but there’s something about Lemmon’s vulnerability as Jane that moves me immensely. You just want to HELP her.
The night before Closing Night, I actually went to a table reading of Max Wolf-Friedlich’s new play currently called HEAD. In regards to that play, it’s already a hit for my money’s worth; authentic in its portrayal of young people, specifically people… my age! That was such a lovely night because it really felt like being in the NYC creative scene; everyone walking around was interesting. I got to speak with the director of JOB and HEAD Michael Herwitz for about 10 minutes; a bit before the reading and then after with my classmate Romeo. The tangibility of everything, being around these creatives… it was so vibrant, it was so alive. Madeline Weinstein, who I loved in Between the Temples, played the lead female character and it was nice talking to her for a few minutes after the reading as well.
By the end of the night, I finally got to speak with Max. Went totally the uncool way and just gushed about JOB, about HEAD, and said, “I’m gonna ask a real cornball thing of you” and I pulled out my script and asked him to sign it. Told him I was going back to JOB tomorrow for the third time, and he was like, “three times! Thank you. And I’ll see you there! It’ll be a special one, since it’s Closing Night.” I also told him that I was planning on doing Jane’s “Nordstrom Rack” monologue in my Technique class and he thought that was pretty great. I said, “I know it’s a part I’ll never play, but—" and he cut in with, “hey, who knows? Why not!” and that was pretty funny to hear. If he ever revisits this but decides to gender-flip it and make Jane instead Gene and make him an anxious Filipino-American… I’ll demand an audition (and also would think, main character syndrome of me, this has to be for me, no?).
And at the end of the Closing Night performance, I was able to chat with Sydney again for a moment, and she signed my script as well. When she saw me, she said, “hey you!” I also told her I was going to be doing the Nordstrom Rack monologue in my technique class and she was excited about that, and said, “you’ll be able to give the character your own spin! Have fun with it.”
As I was walking out of the theater, Max was standing in the aisle. He extended his hand and shook my hand, said, “thanks for coming out again, EJ!”
I mean, I didn’t actually say much about the script itself or the play. It’s just so damn good. The ideas communicated, Sydney and Peter with the acting masterclass. Max was 26 when he wrote this. Come on. It helped me realize the necessity for youth in theater; for young, new perspectives. This is the play that really made me think, “okay, I can do this.” Be specific, have a point of view; be curious. Andrew and I are gonna powwow one of these days and shoot the breeze on the early Ameritrade days. That’d be a fun little project to work on; maybe it can be something!
“It’s like there’s another person there with me, rubbing my back, telling me to keep going as I march into the bathroom and I brush my teeth and fuck around with my hair and eat my muesli and I drink my coffee and as I do each of those things the panic turns them into little missions – I have to NAIL flossing, I have to DESTROY my emails from Nordstrom Rack. I delete them and I EMPTY the trash and I imagine my emails burning. These little morning routine fucking inconsequential things become a sense of real…purpose…but on days like today there just isn’t anything else – there’s only me and the panic, alone together.”
There’s so much I can say about this play, about this show. And I will! This is my Goodreads, and I can ramble and rant if I want to.
For the longest time, the ads of this show on social media or the subway always intrigued me. “Oh, it’s Frank from Succession. And it looks like he’s typecast again to be a corporate ‘employee.’” The office visuals and the stapler to Sydney Lemmon’s face made me think this was about two co-workers shooting the breeze existentially at their cubicles.
However, that is not what the show’s about. I went into the show mostly blind, and was successfully going to be able to do so until my summer Adler classmate Jared (who I took with me the first time I saw the play) told me at dinner prior to the show that, ‘yeah, so it’s about a social media worker who has a viral video and needs to see a therapist?’ I wish I hadn’t known that, but still, that is only the tip of the iceberg of what this play’s about.
When I tell you my jaw dropped when I realized what the show’s “about”… I think I even teared up. The specificity, me working in social media for the past seven years, and watching a young woman in disarray vent, process, and ramble about an uncertain world, her sense of ‘purpose,’ and every little thing in between: there was so much to love. Jane is truly one of my all-time favorite characters — I see a lot myself in Jane, and I think a lot of young people would, too. And Sydney Lemmon’s performance? Lord have mercy. Absolutely incredible stuff.
“It’s endless and hopeless because you just get trapped in the like “discourse” of it all and you just end up mindlessly reposting GoFundMes all day, begging for spare change on your little Instagram street corner on behalf of strangers instead of actually doing something so I’m just not sure therapy aligns with how I deal with things.”
So that first night I saw the show, I walked with my friend Jared to the subway. We parted, but I had it in the back of my mind, since I was still so floored by the show, “I gotta see if they’re going to do stage door!” I went back to the theater and a few folks were still waiting. I asked if anyone came out yet, and they said no one yet. Soon, Peter Friedman came out and he was so generous talking to everyone who waited. When he got to me, I told him about how much I loved the show, how I went in blind and was floored; that my day job is in social media. And how moved I was with his performance and Sydney’s because… the following week I’d be starting at Stella Adler in their conservatory! He did this cool little hop and clapped his hands and said to me, “wow, that’s some change! What inspired this?” And I told him just the burning inside of you to want to create, to want to say something. Watching the two of them perform was the perfect primer for school. He extended his hand and shook my hand, wished me luck, and thanked me for coming again.
And then Sydney came out — some people had cleared out, didn’t feel like waiting. But I knew I needed to speak to her because her performance was just so, so moving for me. Kind of had a similar intro as with Peter, and when I told her I was starting at Stella Adler next week, she said, “hell yes!” and then she gave me a high-five, and then did a little hand-hug with me. She was genuinely floored for me, it seemed, and she told me that part of what took her so long to come outside was that one of her acting school professors was at the show and so she caught up with him; the training and education is absolutely essential. She told me to keep seeing theater, keep staying inspired. I had gushed to her how great I thought she was and how moved I was and she was so appreciative of that. Took pics with both Peter and Sydney that night and I remember walking back and getting a late-night bite at Junior’s still floored.
“You don’t know yourself and so you can’t accept the idea that anyone else might.”
Through TKTS, I got discounted tickets to see the show again — this would make it two viewings in about three weeks. It didn’t matter to me, I knew the show was closing soon and I just wanted to immerse myself once more. I ended up taking my conservatory classmate Nour — it was his first Broadway play! And he was so grateful for the chance. He ended up really enjoying the play, and that was validating for me. Glad it didn’t go to waste! Such a great show to have a conversation about after; it invites so much discourse. Nour even wanted to see it again the weekend after with a friend from Chicago; I was like, “this was your first Broadway play, you could see anything else!”
Cut to the announcement of Closing Night. And the very effective social media-posting by Max Wolf-Friedlich and the JOB IG page — I splurged on second-row seats. I took my friend Andrew with me, heavily influenced by the fact that we both worked in social media together for a year; and we have conversations about ‘advertisers not wanting their ads to pop up next to neo-Nazi content.’ I’ve never seen a play three times before, but if there’s any show that would make me do it, it’s JOB. If it wasn’t closing, maybe I’d see it again! It was regularly featured in TKTS.
And this viewing was probably the best. Just leaned in, floored by the performances. The most I ever teared up — this is not really a ‘sobbing’ type of show, but there’s something about Lemmon’s vulnerability as Jane that moves me immensely. You just want to HELP her.
The night before Closing Night, I actually went to a table reading of Max Wolf-Friedlich’s new play currently called HEAD. In regards to that play, it’s already a hit for my money’s worth; authentic in its portrayal of young people, specifically people… my age! That was such a lovely night because it really felt like being in the NYC creative scene; everyone walking around was interesting. I got to speak with the director of JOB and HEAD Michael Herwitz for about 10 minutes; a bit before the reading and then after with my classmate Romeo. The tangibility of everything, being around these creatives… it was so vibrant, it was so alive. Madeline Weinstein, who I loved in Between the Temples, played the lead female character and it was nice talking to her for a few minutes after the reading as well.
By the end of the night, I finally got to speak with Max. Went totally the uncool way and just gushed about JOB, about HEAD, and said, “I’m gonna ask a real cornball thing of you” and I pulled out my script and asked him to sign it. Told him I was going back to JOB tomorrow for the third time, and he was like, “three times! Thank you. And I’ll see you there! It’ll be a special one, since it’s Closing Night.” I also told him that I was planning on doing Jane’s “Nordstrom Rack” monologue in my Technique class and he thought that was pretty great. I said, “I know it’s a part I’ll never play, but—" and he cut in with, “hey, who knows? Why not!” and that was pretty funny to hear. If he ever revisits this but decides to gender-flip it and make Jane instead Gene and make him an anxious Filipino-American… I’ll demand an audition (and also would think, main character syndrome of me, this has to be for me, no?).
And at the end of the Closing Night performance, I was able to chat with Sydney again for a moment, and she signed my script as well. When she saw me, she said, “hey you!” I also told her I was going to be doing the Nordstrom Rack monologue in my technique class and she was excited about that, and said, “you’ll be able to give the character your own spin! Have fun with it.”
As I was walking out of the theater, Max was standing in the aisle. He extended his hand and shook my hand, said, “thanks for coming out again, EJ!”
I mean, I didn’t actually say much about the script itself or the play. It’s just so damn good. The ideas communicated, Sydney and Peter with the acting masterclass. Max was 26 when he wrote this. Come on. It helped me realize the necessity for youth in theater; for young, new perspectives. This is the play that really made me think, “okay, I can do this.” Be specific, have a point of view; be curious. Andrew and I are gonna powwow one of these days and shoot the breeze on the early Ameritrade days. That’d be a fun little project to work on; maybe it can be something!
“It’s like there’s another person there with me, rubbing my back, telling me to keep going as I march into the bathroom and I brush my teeth and fuck around with my hair and eat my muesli and I drink my coffee and as I do each of those things the panic turns them into little missions – I have to NAIL flossing, I have to DESTROY my emails from Nordstrom Rack. I delete them and I EMPTY the trash and I imagine my emails burning. These little morning routine fucking inconsequential things become a sense of real…purpose…but on days like today there just isn’t anything else – there’s only me and the panic, alone together.”
dark
emotional
reflective
sad
tense
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
A mix
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Complicated
Diverse cast of characters:
No
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
“Pop, I’m a dime a dozen and so are you!”
Heartbreaking. Devastating. Comes right off the page and is such a tragic page-turner. My heart aches for Willy, for Linda, for Biff, for Happy.
“A salesman is got to dream, boy; it comes with the territory.”
What an affecting read. I’m writing this review at 3:45 in the morning and I should just go to sleep; maybe my mind is racing because of school, because of the election, because of lots of things. But this play… certainly one of the best I’ve read so far and genuinely probably going to be one of the most important plays I’ll have read in my life.
Originally I said to myself, “finish Act One and then continue tomorrow.” Then Act One finished and I was like, “I think we can just bang this out.”
I’ve been Biff. I’ve had those exact conversations with my mom, in different contexts; but the dreams a father has for himself, for his family, and for his children — but specifically his son(s)… it’s too damn real.
“You’ve got to make up your mind now, there’s no leeway any more—either he’s your father and you pay him that respect or else you’re not to come here. I know he’s not easy to get along with—nobody knows that better than me—but—"...
“It sounds so old-fashioned and silly, but I tell you he put his whole life into you and you’ve turned your backs on him. Biff, I swear to God; Biff, his life is in your hands.”
It wasn’t really that long ago when I was the spiteful Biff. We find out later what this spite comes from, and it’s also heartbreaking and reasonably debilitating. Everyone is right in this play, and everyone is wrong! Could Biff have had a bit more spine at times? Yeah. Did Willy fuck up his son forever? Yeah.
“Figure it out; work a lifetime to pay off a house. You finally own it, and there’s nobody to live in it.”
The writing is incredible. And the place it comes from, is so sad, too. I read that Arthur Miller got the idea for this play after a chance encounter between himself and his uncle Manny Newman, a salesman. Newman never said congrats or anything, and just said, “Buddy is doing very well.” Newman, consciously or unconsciously, always comparing his son to his nephew for their whole lives. Newman ended up committing suicide soon after.
“A man can’t go out the way he came in, Ben, a man has got to add up to something. You can’t, you can’t…”
Expectations. Desire. Suffering. All go hand in hand. Such in conversation with The Iceman Cometh, which I just recently read for the first time. I had to keep putting the book/play down to catch myself; just think of the new information I had to process. The heaviness of the words; the pangs of my heart. So, so tragic. It just gets sadder and sadder. But it’s, unfortunately, so true.
“Will you let me go, for Christ’s sake? Will you take that phoney dream and burn it before something happens?”
Heartbreaking. Devastating. Comes right off the page and is such a tragic page-turner. My heart aches for Willy, for Linda, for Biff, for Happy.
“A salesman is got to dream, boy; it comes with the territory.”
What an affecting read. I’m writing this review at 3:45 in the morning and I should just go to sleep; maybe my mind is racing because of school, because of the election, because of lots of things. But this play… certainly one of the best I’ve read so far and genuinely probably going to be one of the most important plays I’ll have read in my life.
Originally I said to myself, “finish Act One and then continue tomorrow.” Then Act One finished and I was like, “I think we can just bang this out.”
I’ve been Biff. I’ve had those exact conversations with my mom, in different contexts; but the dreams a father has for himself, for his family, and for his children — but specifically his son(s)… it’s too damn real.
“You’ve got to make up your mind now, there’s no leeway any more—either he’s your father and you pay him that respect or else you’re not to come here. I know he’s not easy to get along with—nobody knows that better than me—but—"...
“It sounds so old-fashioned and silly, but I tell you he put his whole life into you and you’ve turned your backs on him. Biff, I swear to God; Biff, his life is in your hands.”
It wasn’t really that long ago when I was the spiteful Biff. We find out later what this spite comes from, and it’s also heartbreaking and reasonably debilitating. Everyone is right in this play, and everyone is wrong! Could Biff have had a bit more spine at times? Yeah. Did Willy fuck up his son forever? Yeah.
“Figure it out; work a lifetime to pay off a house. You finally own it, and there’s nobody to live in it.”
The writing is incredible. And the place it comes from, is so sad, too. I read that Arthur Miller got the idea for this play after a chance encounter between himself and his uncle Manny Newman, a salesman. Newman never said congrats or anything, and just said, “Buddy is doing very well.” Newman, consciously or unconsciously, always comparing his son to his nephew for their whole lives. Newman ended up committing suicide soon after.
“A man can’t go out the way he came in, Ben, a man has got to add up to something. You can’t, you can’t…”
Expectations. Desire. Suffering. All go hand in hand. Such in conversation with The Iceman Cometh, which I just recently read for the first time. I had to keep putting the book/play down to catch myself; just think of the new information I had to process. The heaviness of the words; the pangs of my heart. So, so tragic. It just gets sadder and sadder. But it’s, unfortunately, so true.
“Will you let me go, for Christ’s sake? Will you take that phoney dream and burn it before something happens?”