Reflections on The Unstable Elements
Theatre – live performance before a live audience – has always
played a vital role in society writ large. Over the millennia, the purpose of
theatre has at once been to entertain, educate and to tell the Truth (capital
T). Live performance raises awareness, provides a call to action and, in short,
creates a forum for the People to come together, to see life mirrored on the
stage, and shine a bright light on what is important in society and what needs
immediate attention.
Last night, along with about 30 others, I attended a
screening of Dangerous Acts, a 2011 documentary
about the Unstable Elements of Belarus of the Belarus Free Theatre. The film
chronicled their rise from clandestine performances before perhaps 20 patrons
at a time, to international recognition in New York City and Great Britain (the
ensemble’s work has been recognized with world-wide acclaim including a 2011
Obie Award, among other accolades). The story of the fate and lives of these
eight ensemble members is brazenly chronicled against the backdrop of the pre–
and post– December 19, 2010 election activities in Belarus.
The Belarus Free Theatre fulfills this vital role of theatre
in society: they courageously (and dangerously) choose to tell the truth. The
truth about the oppression of the people. The truth about a brutal dictatorship
that operates with impunity, much like the Soviet regime who reigned before it.
They tell the Truth, with pieces like, "The Disappeared," "Zone of Silence," and "Minsk: 2011." They bravely and brazenly provide this forum for discussion,
mirror life on the stage, and bring into bright light what’s important and what
needs attention –in their country and
in the world. Simply put, they explore the myriad of taboos holding hostage the
population of a post-Soviet Belarus.
I won’t go into the details of the injustice and indignity borne
on the backs of the people of Belarus, appropriately described as “Europe’s Last
Dictatorship.” Although worth far more than a thousand words, suffice it here
to recount what was shared by one of the actors in relaying the results of said
“election.” So says she: “There is a joke in Minsk … (incumbent President)
Lukashenko’s men come to him after the election, and say, ‘We have good news
and bad news. The good news is that you are still President. The bad news is …
nobody voted for you.’” [As a side note, editorials about the antiquated process
followed by the outdated use of our Electoral College and “hanging chads”
aside, the votes we cast in a U.S. Presidential election (and all elections) do count. Registered voters who don’t vote and taxpaying citizens
who don’t register are yet another peeve of mine. A big one. An infuriating
one. But for another blog, perhaps.]
I was a member of Amnesty International for two years in
college, and for about a year after graduation. I remember the narratives on the
plight of political prisoners and I wrote letters to petition for their
freedom. Unstable Elements brought back to me some of the same feelings of
outrage and injustice I felt twenty-something years ago as I penned letter
after letter and with tears of rage, signed my name. It’s impossible to watch
the unfolding of such atrocities happening in our world in our lifetime
and not be so moved. It was, to put it mildly, an amazing performance.
Immediately following the screening, there was a talk-back with
the audience, led by local theatre community leaders Michael Krickmire of the
SUNY Brockport Theatre Department; and John Borek from the Multi-use Community
Cultural Center (MuCCC) on Atlantic Avenue. The discussion was moderated by Caroline Yeager,
Assistant Curator, Motion Pictures, at the George Eastman House. A main topic for
discussion was why, in America, do we not have this kind of theatre? Why doesn’t
anyone here do political theatre?
Well, we do. Let’s not fool ourselves by burying our heads
in the sand about the issues showcased and stories told by theatre groups that
do choose to tell these stories. They are there, on college campuses and
socially conscious community theatres nationwide. I’ve seen them. I’ve participated
in them. The issues are different, it’s true. We fight for marriage equality,
gender equality, gay/bisexual/transgender rights, an end to illegal police brutality and political corruption;
an end to child abuse and domestic violence; we fight for the right to die with dignity.
But I must admit: we do not have “this kind” of political theatre here. Not
like this that the Dryden audience experienced last night. Not like the Belarus
Free Theatre.
So, let’s assume the premise stands solid. Why not here? Well, for one thing, we have
other outlets to raise awareness and call the people to action in a
technological society. We have film, the internet and other forms of more “efficient”
mass communication. I think that’s a good thing – a very good thing – and I’ll
refrain from my standard rant here, about how people just don’t talk to each
other anymore.
Another answer to “why not here?” is quite simple: because
we have a Constitution. We have a Bill of Rights that guarantees certain, what
we would consider, basic freedoms. We are free to speak, to think what we want
and say what we think. Our journalists enjoy the freedom to report facts, no
matter how unsavory and inconvenient to the power structure (and, it’s well
worth noting here, the right to protect the sources who bring them these
Truths). We are free to peaceably assemble, to protest injustice, and fight for
equality in all realms of our lives. Do we take these rights for granted,
because we have enjoyed them for so long and have become complacent to the freedoms
these rights enable? Let’s hope not. Hope also, that the next time you bitch
and moan about the government or politicians and what “they” are doing to this
country, you remember to be damned glad you can.
Because you can.
Because people in countries like Belarus can’t. In Minsk,
there were mass arrests following post-election protests; thousands of citizens
beaten, arrested, tortured and detained for nothing more than gathering
together to demand justice. No weapons, no looting, no fires, no vandalism, no
violence at all. Just peaceful protest followed by imprisonment. Endless
imprisonment. No defense. No attorney. No legal advice. Just false
imprisonment.
And something interesting was also asked by the moderator of
our post-screening talk-back. “Interesting,” I say, because, although perhaps
innocent, it was at once sad, rather ignorant and amusingly naïve. How is it,
wondered the moderator, that this can happen? How can so few in power oppress the
masses at large, so many in number? Well, without launching into diatribe about
how history is replete with examples of the suffering of the few at the hands
of the many, there is a simple answer to this question.
Because they can.
It is because of realities such as this that the Belarus
Free Theatre must operate in secret. There is no advertising, no publicity;
just word-of-mouth and the internet. Tickets are sold only by phone, to avoid accusations
of illegal commerce. They rehearse and perform in hiding. They are in such
constant danger that they cannot divulge where their theatre is located.
Patrons meet on a street corner, and the Stage Manager emerges to escort them
to the theatre space –after asking, “Did you bring your passports? (We don’t
expect trouble, but just in case).”
I cannot imagine my theatre having to operate in secret. I
cannot imagine our actors and other artists risking their lives to tell our
stories and to speak our truths. We have no such restrictions. We have no such …
dangers (doesn’t even begin to describe it).
Because we don’t –because we are free to think what we want,
write what we want, say what we think, and perform as we please– we must. In grass-roots, member-supported
community theatre, we must continue to tell our stories. We must continue to
tell our Truths.
Because we can.
(Feeding the Moonfish, TANYS Festival Winner, Best Short Production, 2014. Jared Lee Morgan, Colleen DiVincenzo. Photo by Marty Nott)
