This is your brain on Torchwood
From my Theatre and Communications Bachelor of Arts degree from my alma mater (where you can find embarrassing pictures of me hanging on the walls of its theatre still), I learned a few things that stuck with me over the years:
1. I am not actress. When pressed into a part because some director is desperate, I am adequate at best. If it’s a good part, I enjoy the work, but I find greater joy backstage. In fact, I loved designing and hanging lights.
2. I never wanted to even attempt at doing theater for a living. It’s a hard, hard life. A former roommate is an actor in NYC and I think him a god (and the best actor I ever met).
3. Group art is hard; very, very, very hard. The director has to convey his vision not only to his actors (and telling them outright does not guarantee the desired performance), but to the set designer, costume designer, props master, etc., etc., while still allowing them to be creative artists in their own right. Imagine herding cats and then imagine herding cats each into their own little tunnel and having the cat come out the other side. Everyone wants their input. Balancing to create something wonderful is a whole lot harder than anyone can imagine (that hasn’t tried to do it).
4. I learned the importance of catharsis, which is one of the main reasons Theatre and all its bastard children have survived as an art form for so long.
From the ancient Greek (that I am not going to look up and try to go in depth in explanation), catharsis means “purification” or “cleansing” (or something close to that). In relationship to Theatre, it refers to that emotional climax that causes overwhelming feelings, whether it’s joy, sorrow, pity, laughter, etc., in the audience after witnessing a performance. These overwhelming feelings baptize the audience in sensations of renewal and revitalization. I believe these renewed and restored emotions come with the presence of mind in the audience member that they did not actually have to live through to experience. They share it with the characters on the stage. You know, that “boy, I’m glad it didn’t really happen to me” feeling of relief that comes after having just missed that train wreck while driving your car. Certainly, you sympathize with those who were caught in the train wreck and hope he/she survives (provided you have a soul and are not a sociopath), but you are glad it didn’t happen to you.
Theater provides that without anyone actually getting hurt by a train.
While I do not believe the Greeks were the first to commercially market theatre, I do believe they were one of the first to document it. I like the idea that they not only had coliseums built to hold large audiences for performances, but smaller ones sprinkled throughout the city (as seen in Rome). Rich and poor alike could see performances, experience catharsis together and then break off into their own socio-economic groups to talk about it. Of course, I love the idea that the town crier’s messages had corporate sponsorship (e.g., commercials), as seen in Rome.
However, theater has become more and more invasive into our lives. We have televisions in our home, on our cell phones, and on our music players. We have hundreds of channels running thousands of stories (real and make-believe) twenty-four hours a day. Youtube.com and Hulu.com offer access to thousands of television shows and movies any time we want. Somewhere in that rush of technology and our love of theater (and don’t get me started on this side rant I have saved up in my head about what people really worship), the audience has lost the Catharsis. Whereas in earlier times, Mr. Audience Member would attend a performance of a two hour play and then spend the rest of his week dealing with his real life (e.g., the goats need tending or Aunt Martha is coughing up blood or Little Mary has gone missing or the Cooper’s barn burned down and we need to help them build another or Uncle Frank absconded with the family fortune and the downstairs maid), today’s Mr. Audience Member spends eight hours (maybe more, maybe less) at the job and then spends three to four hours in front of the television, phone, computer, etc. in stories. And if we want to be honest, Mr. Audience Member probably watches movies or television at work on the computer.
Some people with more time on their hands spend more times in stories than living real life. There is no break from the constant emotional climax with the stressful, grounding real life drama of “what’s this lump that sprung up over night?” Some people live their lives through stories which open a whole realm of problems. Stories end in neat packages that tend to follow story-telling rules and always reach an ending. As far as I can tell so far with my life, Life is rarely as such. Wouldn’t it be nice if all of Life’s problems could be resolved in the thirty minutes time limit allotted for sit-coms (and as funny? Even the worst sit-com would whip the shit out of real life problems)?
All that I just wrote sprang forth from my mouth after I finished watching the five episodes of this season’s Torchwood. I rambled on and on and on to my poor, poor, Hubby while we put fresh sheets on the bed, put laundry away, and readied ourselves for nightly slumber (and yes, I can hear what you’re thinking: he’s a saint. I agree). If you haven’t seen the episodes, please stop reading now. I mean it. I will talk about details of the show that will spoil it for you – and I highly recommend watching it without being spoiled. It is worth it.
While I will not contend that everything that produces a cathartic effect is art, I will state that art cannot exist without catharsis. Torchwood – Children of Earth was full of wonderful catharsis. Through Jack, not only was I able to experience the deep, emotional loss of a dear loved one (under a noble cause of correcting a past mistake), I was able to see the effects of choosing work over family without having to actually invest the time or loss of family. Gwen taught me about strength in adversity, and how hard it is to keep a marriage together under pressure and the worries of bringing a new life into the world (not that I haven’t been there, but it was nice to revisit). Ianto finding how to love an imperfect man when his illusions were shattered after his hero fell from his pedestal.
I won’t even go into all the moral discussions and implications of the large, sweeping story. It didn’t shy away from the true nature of some people when forced to make impossible choices. Some will stand up and try to make a difference (and surprised themselves) while others will justify giving in and going along – and some still will try to make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear and sell it to the public (successfully). Torchwood – Children of Earth took me by the hand and led me into a dark world filled with scary monsters (mostly human) only to leave me questioning my own nature.
Having made that journey, I can certainly understand the wave of fan reaction. I rambled on and on for an hour or better before bed to my poor Hubby, remember? The next morning, my heart ached for poor Jack still. Oh, I can still feel the memory of the ache.
But at the end of the day, debate the story all I may want, I am grateful for the catharsis. I am cleansed. I was able to walk down some roads that I hope to never walk down (oh, and I already know that most elected officials are total douche bags).
Now go. Spread the message of catharsis. Enlighten your fellow man.
Tags: Rant