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Forgotten world of theatre
Posted: Sunday, June 16, 2002
By Donna Yawching
IT IS NOT often that I take public issue with the writings of a fellow-columnist; in the normal run of things, I feel that everyone is entitled to his opinion.
But this week, I must break my own rule. In his column of Friday June 7, would-be theatre-cum-social critic Raymond Ramcharitar went way overboard in his abuse of the local theatre community; and while some of his essential points may have validity, one must really question the professionalism of his approach. Reading his column, I found myself lost in utter wonderment at how it could have gotten past any editor on earth. Sarcasm is one thing; even a bit of vitriol is periodically acceptable; but anywhere else, Ramcharitar’s piece would have been spiked as virtual hate literature.
What else can you call a column that gratuitously insults and abuses a group of people who are, by and large, harmless; and who are trying, against almost insurmountable odds, to create a theatre culture in this country? Perfect they are not; their weaknesses are many; and certainly worth writing about, if only to force them to aim higher. I myself have engaged in lengthy debates with members of this community, stating my criticisms in no uncertain terms, since I believe that growth comes out of discourse.
But Ramcharitar is not interested in discourse; the chip on his shoulder is so massive that it has him walking off-balance most of the time (and not only in this particular column, I might add). His spite, whatever its origin might be, has no place in a newspaper; if he wants to disseminate it, he should hand out pamphlets on the street corner.
Consider his intemperate language: he refers to theatre people as a “herd”; “a closed inbred community, the average intelligence (of which is) very, very low and the talent potential non-existent”; “sexually confused or just-perverse-buggers”; “myopic and duncy”; “garbage”; “limp wrists and soggy minds”; “ninnies”; “vermin”. Not surprisingly, he finds theatre in a “state of decay”, and objects to NDATT’s creation of the “meaningless” and “irritating” Cacique awards. All this because they didn’t make him a star?!
Buried among the detritus of his overweening ego and glaring insecurities, Ramcharitar does make one or two points that are worth discussing. It is true that many of our local productions are shallow and facile, playing to the lowest common denominator in the hopes of drawing the highest possible returns (a policy, incidentally, which is starting to backfire). It is also true, as Ramcharitar points out, that the recent British production of [I]The Tempest offered an eye-opening contrast to much of what currently obtains here, and demonstrated a level of creativity that we have not even dreamed of. I would even agree with him that the Humanities—art, music, theatre —are the civilising factors of any society (and this does not bode well for our own).
However, nothing happens in a vacuum: the shortcomings of local theatre are rooted in some harsh and indisputable realities. I disagree with Ramcharitar’s blanket statement that our local comedies and farces are “badly done”: some are, some are not. We have our fair share of talent and technical ability, and most of our productions (not all!) have the capacity to be entertaining. What we do not have, for the most part, is variety and depth —or any willingness to aim for it. We tend to produce cotton-candy theatre: sweet, insubstantial, and ultimately unmemorable.
There’s a reason for this. In reality, we have no real theatre companies—only production companies, which bestir themselves periodically to produce a play and hopefully make some money. Theatre thus becomes a business, rather than a creative exercise. There is no long-term foundation on which to build, and grow.
A true theatre company would have a stable of permanent in-house actors, a director and a technical team, all working together to develop its reputation in the wider community. Being actually employed (with a salary, albeit usually small), the practitioners would be in a position to engage in training; in acting and movement classes; in script development; in technical experimentation. There would be space for growth; there would be a vision, and a sense of togetherness that would make high aspirations possible. The closest we have ever come to this, I suspect, is the Trinidad Theatre Workshop under Derek Walcott’s leadership; and look how shabbily they have been treated. They are still virtual vagrants.
Instead of true theatres, what we have is essentially a vie-ki-vie series of arrangements at any given time. Most of our productions are pick-up teams featuring the better-known (and better-skilled) actors: script, players and technical team thrown together for a few brief weeks before strutting their hour upon the stage; and then dissolving into nothingness.
It is not an ideal state of affairs; but, contrary to Ramcharitar’s jaundiced opinion, it is not merely a question of egotistical incompetents trying to fool the paying public. Most of our actors and directors would love to spread their wings into the realm of “serious” theatre; most would love to engage in workshops and skills development and consistent training.
It is a question of money. We must be the only first-world wannabes who have not realised the importance of funding the arts. We need a permanent funding body to which serious artists and artistic bodies (not just any old fly-by-nighters) could apply for grants to train, to travel, to explore their possibilities. To bring in experts. To do research. Currently, it would seem, the only “indigenous art forms” government feels obliged to sponsor are calypso and steelband. Not good enough.
We need stability (and that includes a decent national performance space in the capital, by the way; not in Chaguanas or Aranjuez). Artists need to feel they can make a choice, rather than being forced into the tawdry to survive. Are our public—or for that matter, private—agencies doing anything to encourage this? Until the answer is yes, Ramcharitar should really just keep his mouth shut.
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