Community college theater departments. These are not words used to inspire people, to induce the kind of anticipation that exists before the opening night of a highly acclaimed show. Groans are more likely to ensue from the phrase “student production”.
The performing arts division of a community college is usually comprised of a few good people trying as best they can. Not all theater departments are created equal however, not with each other and not even from semester to semester for that matter. They vary in accordance with the quality of the teacher,the level of funding and the quality of the current students enrolled.
So when I came to the conclusion that if I wanted to be in a play during the next few months, it would have to be the community college’s summer production, I was less than thrilled. Not even the community college I’m enrolled in, mind you. A completely different one, lacking even the familiarity of the past two semester’s involvement with theater.
Given the decided informality of my usual theater classes, I had no idea what to expect when walking into the ‘audition’ for a different teacher, different school. It was an audition in the same sense that there are ‘applications’ to community colleges, words implying that there is a certain chance you won’t be accepted, that there is a degree of competition for the position. Well, the competition is stiff. So stiff in fact, that its a cadaver. Generally when dealing with the community college system, if you can fog up a mirror held under your nose, you will be accepted into whatever you are trying for.
The title of this blog does have some bearing on something, despite all indications to the contrary from the last four paragraphs or so. Back on subject.
“You should talk to the director, you don’t have to be a student. It’s Shakespeare.” This was basically all the information that my brother had given me, aside from a time and place of the audition. When he said Shakespeare, I thought, well Shakespeare. I had no idea.
The director had a vision, as they always do. Lets bring Shakespeare to the texting blogging generation. You have to give her credit, its a good idea, an admirable goal.
My generation could be fairly called a collection of uncultured whores. I say this with the greatest love and respect. I don’t consider myself above them…at least not far above them. I could use just as much Shakespeare, the rest of them. Along with Hemingway, Twain, Tennessee Williams, Capote, classical theater and philosophy, to name just a few culturing influences that might do us good.
Uncultured whores. Its a harsh term, but I hope conveys a sense of the possibility for redemption. I don’t think of my peers as beyond hope. All it takes is the desire for bettering and access to education. Perhaps even less than that, maybe all any of us really need is a willingness to stop refreshing a Facebook page, or stop staring into the ‘Jersey Shore’ and go outside and have a poke around our own heads. After all its not completely empty and vapid in there.
Generation, what is it now? Y? Generation Y certainly inspires questions. How did we end up with this current…lack. Lack of hope, drive, determination, vitality? The Internet. The Democrats. The Republicans. Television. The wandering away from God. Whoever you ask will give you a different explanation, it could be all of the above or none of the above.
We like to think of the current generation’s impotence as something new, a sudden divergence from a normally educated, lively and thoughtful string of generations. How accurate is that, really though? Maybe each generation is born with a few more problems weighing it down, a little less education, a few less exceptionally free minded thinkers. Perhaps it is not one sudden cause that can be blamed, but rather the slow deterioration of a system in general, causing the loss of hope and creation of apathy.
A little less life in each generation until we are finally evolved into the perfect model of Fahrenheit 451. Like Fahrenheit 451 however, we are not totally without hope for a better future. Eventually the bombs will fall on the cities, and change will come. We can only hope that it takes place in a metaphorical, rather than literal sense. And who knows, maybe if we’re lucky we can start changing since now, and do away with the drama of an explosion.
I stray very far from Shakespeare and student productions. Again.