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| re: How quickly did the American theater begin writing about / discussing / producing works about AIDS? | |
| Last Edit: whereismikeyfl 07:55 am EST 02/18/21 | |
| Posted by: whereismikeyfl 07:51 am EST 02/18/21 | |
| In reply to: How quickly did the American theater begin writing about / discussing / producing works about AIDS? - GrumpyMorningBoy 08:51 pm EST 02/17/21 | |
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| There was work in the performance clubs before Off-Broadway and Broadway discovered AIDS. There were plays and performances about the crisis starting around 1983, right when the clubs started springing up. Unfortunately, the work was not well documented and much of it is lost. Dancetheater artist John Bernd was one of the earliest diagnosed people and dealt with his condition in his work (which was usually autobiographical). I believe his work is well archived. The Lincoln Center Library probably has some material as him, but because he mixed genres, I do not know if he would be in the theater collection or the dance. I am not a fan of Tim Miller, but I think he also was talking about AIDS early on. I want to say he treated it in Democracy in America from 1984 even though it was not the main theme. The script is (I think) published and can be checked. |
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| First AIDS Play plus: Tim Miller | |
| Posted by: BruceinIthaca 10:14 pm EST 02/18/21 | |
| In reply to: re: How quickly did the American theater begin writing about / discussing / producing works about AIDS? - whereismikeyfl 07:51 am EST 02/18/21 | |
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| I was there. The play considered the first to be overtly about AIDS (according to a number of histories of AIDS and the arts I have read) was a one-man monodrama (is that redundant? it was a solo actor playing one character) called "One," produced (I believe) by Lionheart in Chicago (an LGBT theater company developed by designer Rick Paul, playwright and critic Richard Pollack, and others). It was written by Jeff Hagedorn, a Chicago playwright, who would eventually die of complications from AIDS. (I do not know whether he was already ill when he wrote it.) It premiered, I believe, in 1984 (might have been as early as 1983--I am sure if I Googled it I could find out). Now, here's the Sophia Petrillo part of the story. I had been in a relationship with Richard Pollack for two years, during which time he dallied once with Jeff Hagedorn. (I blush to be so personal here.) One and done, as they say. In 1982, Richard's play "Banalities" was produced by Lionheart and a handsome, young actor was cast in the role based on Richard. I was busy toiling away writing my dissertation at Northwestern at the time, so did not attend rehearsals (I sound like Karen Richards during "Aged in Wood," I realize). During the rehearsal period, Richard and said young actor began their own affair, which ended in the end of our relationship. Fast forward to 1984. I have returned to Chicago, from a year teaching in the theatre department at Eastern Illinois University in Charleston, having completed my Ph.D. and looking for a job, doing data entry at my alma mater to pay rent. I picked up a copy of Gay Chicago (one of the local "bar rags," though with excellent news coverage and arts criticism) and read a review by Richard Pollack. I thought enough time had passed (our parting was acrimonious--mirroring the parting of lovers in his play) and I wrote him, saying it was good to see his writing again (he was a wonderful, if sometimes wicked critic--he also wrote for the Chicago Reader and did some capsule reviews for Chhicago magazine and was on the Jeff Committee, so during our time together I saw just about everything onstage in Chicago). He wrote back--it seemed he and his young swain had also parted, and we went on a few tentative dates (and were on again, off again for the next three years or so, as I took teaching jobs in NY State and then Nebraska; we broke up a second time and he died a few months later--he had lived for decades with dystonia and his body gave out at 42--I was 30 at the time). The summer of 84, "One" was playing a second time or perhaps as an extension and for the last weekend or so, the original actor left to do other work and was replaced by--yes, you guessed it--by the young actor RP had left me for in 1981. So, we decided we had to attend the closing performance, a hot Sunday night. By then, I think the play had exhausted its audience potential, and we were two of perhaps four or five audience members--and the actor clearly knew we were there. (Richard's dystonia gave him an unmistakeable gait and appearance.) I can't say I remember much about the play, other than it was brave of Hagedorn (whom I didn't think much of, even before he took my fellow for a weekend) to write so early about the illness (and if he was already ill, it was not, IIRC, part of the publicity around the show--and remember, this was before testing for the virus was available in any widespread way), though a cynical part of me also thought it might be opportunistic, so to speak. But, decades later, I prefer to think of it as a genuine, serious attempt to speak of the crisis in the community in a dramatic fashion. I do not think the play was ever published, though my guess is it was produced elsewhere. I know Hagedorn's papers are in a university archive--again, I would have to look to find out. And that, Marjorie (as we say), is the night the lights went out in Georgia. P.S. I AM a fan of Tim Miller (and consider him a friend), both for his own bravery as an artist (one of the NEA casualties) and his generosity as a teacher and warrior. I brought him to Ithaca College about five or six years ago and he did an open workshop on personal narrative for students drawn from all over campus and did a performance for us. One of the students who participated in the workshop was a young man who went blind at age 14--he was a football player/wrestler and had trouble breathing one weekend, was taken to an ER, and a tumor the size of a grapefruit was found in his chest. They operated, saving his life, but the cancer came back four months later, this time hitting the optic nerves. He was wheeled into the operating room with two hours notice, told his mother that, if he as to go blind, he was glad hers was the last face he would see. When Tim Miller came, Tim (my student) had acquired a wonderful service dog, Lang, who participated in the workshop, leading my student safely through the physical activities. Later that year, my student went to a performance festival and did a haunting personal narrative performance about hiking the Grand Canyon blind--I know Tim Miller's careful, if brief work with him helped him make the performance more than a "poster child" piece of crip inspiration. My Tim went on to climb Mt. Kilimanjaro and plans to cycle (with a companion) across the country, to raise money and awareness for disability causes. So, whatever other folks may think of Mr. Miller, I am indeed a fan. |
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| Thank you! (nm) | |
| Posted by: GrumpyMorningBoy 09:20 am EST 02/18/21 | |
| In reply to: re: How quickly did the American theater begin writing about / discussing / producing works about AIDS? - whereismikeyfl 07:51 am EST 02/18/21 | |
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| nm means nightmarish morning | |
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