Plays on History (PART ONE)

A dear friend of mine, knowing of my obsession fascination with the Black Death, offered an intriguing suggestion—she said that I should write a play about it. I’ve been turning this idea over in my head ever since.  There are several possible narrative structures:

•  A straightforward narrative drama, probably the easiest to conceive and execute.

This format was more popular in the post-World War II era (examples include The Lion in Winter, A Man for All Seasons and Anne of the Thousand Days).

 



Genevieve Bujold looking adorbs as Anne Boleyn.
You can tell this is early on in the film, because
of her gabled headdress (indicating Anne is still
lady-in-waiting to Catherine of Aragon).
  



Later on Anne introduced the French hood, which EVERYBODY immediately adopted.  Thin and fashionable, brunette, French-speaking--Anne was kind of the Jackie Kennedy of her day.

• A dualistic structure, where past and present are both presented and held up to each other.
  
  

Examples include perhaps my favorite modern play, Tom Stoppard’s Arcadia, a fantastic tour de force exploring issues of determinism, eschatology, physics, poetry, sex as chaos theory, thermodynamics, and emerging Romanticism.  This all makes it sound deadly but it is actually a lovely poem of a play, a valentine to the  intellectual mind.  Thomasina’s tearful reaction when she contemplates the burning of the Library of Alexandria--all those books, that knowledge lost, perhaps forever—breaks my heart.

THOMASINA: Oh Septimus!--can you bear it?  All the lost plays of the Athenians!  Two hundred at least by Aeschylus--thousands of poems--Aristotle's own library brought to Egypt by [Cleopatra's]* ancestors!  How can we sleep for grief?

• A play that explicitly uses the past to make a point about the present.  

Examples include: Arthur Miller’s The Crucible which of course uses the Salem Witch Trials as a metaphor for the anti-Communist hysteria in the early ‘50s. Crucible's plot works on its own terms as well, as a look into a society we can hardly imagine now in this country, a theocracy shaped by terror—terror of Indian attacks, crop failure, public shaming, damnation.  Miller’s somewhat contrived recreation of 17th-century barely-American vernacular is criticized, but the language is actually one of my favorite aspects of the play, by turns sturdily plain-spoken and unexpectedly poetic.

ABIGAIL: As bare as some December tree, I saw them all--walking like saints to church, running to feed the sick, and hypocrites in their hearts! And God gave me strength to call them liars, and God made men to listen to me, and by God I will scrub the world clean for the love of Him! Oh John, I will make you such a wife when the world is white again!**

I guess for me to decide how I want to write the play, I’d need to think about what I want to say about the Black Death, which is certainly a fertile ground for dramatic treatment.  The worst human disaster in recorded history and yet (fascinatingly!) for such a catastrophe, relatively little has been written about it....

*Thomasina dates the Library's burning to Julius Caesar's OH-so-eventful visit in 48 BC, based on Plutarch, but this is somewhat suspect--classical sources mention several other specific incidents when the Library was fired.

**I have no problem with Miller's twisting history to make Abigail older (in real life she was 11, and John Proctor was well into his 60s), or even his invention of their illicit relationship.  What I dislike though is his characterization of (the character) Abigail as The Teenage Temptress.  As the play establishes, she was a servant in Proctor's home, within a highly misogynistic society--she really had no meaningful agency.  Proctor held all the cards.  Miller even tries to cover his ass later on by claiming "The legend has it that Abigail turned up later as a prostitute in Boston"--uh, no.  There is no such legend except in Miller's fevered imagination.  Down, boy.

The Children's Hour

There's a fascinating article in this week's New York Times Sunday magazine, about Shaken Baby Syndrome and how some guilty verdicts are being called into doubt in light of growing medical uncertainty about the syndrome. As soon as I read the blurb ("Some doctors are taking issue with the diagnosis of the syndrome, raising the possibility that innocent people have been sent to jail..."), I immediately realized the parallel with the daycare sex abuse scandals of the '80s. The McMartin case might've been the best-known but the one with which I'm most familiar is the "Little Rascals" case in Edenton, North Carolina which was addressed in a brilliant PBS documentary in the '90s. Just as in similar cases across the country, children made suggestive remarks to their parents, who then questioned their children, consulted with medical and psychological experts on sexual abuse, concluded that their children had been sexually abused by their daycare providers, and pursued prosecution. What makes these cases so remarkable--and disturbing--is the rush to judgment even in light of some literally incredible testimony from some of the "victims." The Edenton children, some as young as two years old, testified that the Little Rascals providers killed babies in front of them and fed them to sharks. They testified that they flew to outer space in hot air balloons. And yet they didn't volunteer any of this testimony about all of the abuse they claimed to be suffering, until the parents started questioning them--until an investigation started and they were surrounded by lot of authority figures showing them pictures and asking them questions. One of the parents said, point blank, "I know now that children don't lie about things like this." But were these children actually lying--that is, misleading these adults with intent? Or were they responding the way they sensed the adults around them wanted them to respond? One parent in the documentary started having doubts when she was riding in the car with her son, who began casually pointing to strangers on the sidewalk. "That one abused me--oh yeah, and that man over there..." as though it were some kind of game, saying what he thought Mommy wanted--or needed--to hear. Were these children some kind of mouthpiece, did they serve as a mirror into the fears of their parents?

There's an interesting intersection of factors on display here--the belief in the essential infallibility of children; the faith in the jury system; the heartbreak of parents who believe their child had been horribly violated; and the special fury reserved for those wrongdoers who attack our society's most vulnerable members: children, old people and pets. One especially disturbing revelation in the Frontline documentary was that a juror had lied during the voir dire process. When asked if he'd ever been sexually abused, the (at that time, potential) juror had said no--he was hoping to be on the jury, and knew that if he answered yes, he would not have been chosen. He wanted to get on the jury, because he'd already decided that the defendants must be guilty.   Another juror did not believe the prosecution had proved its case, even after a third juror had brought in outside material supporting his point of view into the deliberation room (again compromising the process) but, worn down by the grueling trial, eventually allowed himself to be pressured into a guilty verdict.

But there's another factor here, one less obvious to the contemporary observer--the self-imposed and culturally-enforced guilt of the working mother. The American woman had made solid inroads into the corporate culture by the mid-to-late '80s but this came at a price and there was, and remains, a lot of debate about the effects of outsourced childcare--on the children, the parents and the providers. I say parents but of course it is usually the mother who has to defend her choice to work and frequently the mother who has to negotiate the childcare arrangements.  (According to Sarah Bradford's biography, even the Princess of Wales was uncomfortable with Prince William's first nanny.) Which brings us to the Shaken Baby syndrome article which, again, pits the parents against the childcare providers. As before experts are summoned who attest to the "facts" about the effects on children. As before the ensuing conversation includes those who  see it as another reason why "mothers/women should be the care giver of their babies and children and not people outside of the home" (rather telling choice of words there!) and who call for a "return" to the days when women didn't work outside the home and "mom stays home." As before there are defendants who end up pleading guilty or no contest--not from principle but just so they can have their lives back. It's the same narrative, over and over.

And the day care sex abuse hysteria (literally, since the root word of hysteria is the Greek hysterikos, meaning of the womb) wasn't the first iteration of this narrative. When I first watched the Frontline documentary, the first thing I thought of was the Salem Witch Trials. Indefensible testimony that defies logic or common sense but which the experts assure us is incontrovertible fact (the "spectral evidence" in Salem), the rush to condemnation combined with the expectation to deliver a specific verdict (Rebecca Nurse, one of the Salem accused whose standing in the community was seemingly untouchable, was first found innocent--until the magistrate asked that the jury "reconsider"), the exhausted and confused defendants eventually pleading guilty to get their lives back. (Or in Salem--to get their lives, period. Not one defendant was exonerated, and every single one who insisted on pleading not-guilty were all condemned to be hanged, never to a lesser sentence.)  The exaltation of the child witness, speaking truth to power, beyond all common sense--The Children's Hour. The girls in Salem claimed that the defendants were sending out their souls to afflict the girls. They said they saw the Devil in the form of a yellow bird perched on the rafters in the courthouse. Is that really any different from claiming to fly in UFOs?

The parallel isn't perfect, of course--for one thing sexual abuse really does exist, as does Shaken Baby syndrome.  Which is where one aspect of this tragedy lies (along with, obviously, the prospect of innocent people having their lives ruined and going to prison for something they didn't do).  Every day children are abused sexually.  Babies are shaken unknowingly and sometimes die as a result--and the Whitmer baby, profiled in the Times article, really is physically disabled.  We can't turn away from his parents' obvious suffering.  And we can't just reject those who are experts in their field--blind denial of peer-tested, peer-reviewed science isn't a solution any more than blind faith in that same science.  It's just--daunting to realize how imperfect the jury system still is in this country, even with the best of intentions.