| April 27, 2008 | THE PLAY'S THE THING, Comments on Mavor Moore and his plays The Reverend Jane bramadat |
Sermon
Two weeks ago I talked briefly about some of the experiences and insights I had while on my five-month sabbatical. I have found that Unitarians and Universalists tend to do sabbaticals a little differently than academics. My colleague Brian Kiely took a cordon bleu cooking course; Katie Stein Sather is soon to leave on her sabbatical and she will be joining the 2008 David Thompson Bicentennial Brigade canoeing trip between Rocky Mountain House in Alberta and in Old Fort William near Thunder Bay, ON. Katie says she’s taking it easy though, because she’s starting on day 11 and will only have to paddle for 2600 km instead of 3500 km. Yikes!
My sabbatical was very tame by comparison - I read Mavor Moore plays in four different countries in seven different locations. This was my sabbatical project - to delve into Mavor Moore’s plays and see if I could locate any sign, any imprint of Unitarian values in them.
Here is what Mavor had to say about his Unitarian connection:
“To me it [the Unitarian religion] was the least objectionable of the established churches, generous enough to accommodate a religious pluralist.” At a talk Mavor gave at First Unitarian Church in Toronto he argued that all religions claiming exclusive access to divine truth and their approaches (e.g. “rigorous standards”) cancelled each other out, although there was no shortage of claimants. “The richness of human life, as of the universe, lies in its variety, and we ought less to be sending missionaries than exchanging them.” At the same time, he said, the common notion that because there were many different makes of furnaces we could do without heat in the winter was sheer folly. Learning from each other, we must continue to reinvent furnaces, religions, society, ourselves. ” (Reinventing Myself p. 267)
But let me back up a bit and explain how I ended up with this as my project. When I learned about Mavor Moore’s death in December 2006 I remembered that Phillip Hewett who wrote Unitarians in Canada had mentioned that Mavor Moore had been part of a Unitarian congregation in Toronto. As a young girl I helped create and perform in little plays in our garage (which was complete with a stage and curtains! ...we didn’t have a car to put in the garage or a TV...) and then in University I worked on finding props for plays and doing make-up for amateur theatre groups. All this tells you is that I enjoy being in this milieu.... not that I can act or write plays! But I find this artistic medium to be one that catches my attention and insists that I listen to the ideas or theories being portrayed by the actors.
So when I thought about my love of plays and how you can read plays anywhere...on a train, plane, or bus - on a beach, living room or gallery - in any climate - I realised that this was a project just right for me - I could travel and read at the same time! And so I have done just that....
Now it is possible that there are people here today who do not know who Mavor Moore was. Here is an extremely abbreviated version of why it would be good to know about him.
He was a distinguished playwright, actor, stage and television producer, critic, professor, journalist and a chairman of the Canada Council.Frequently dubbed a cultural pioneer and a renaissance man, Moore was associated with Spring Thaw (1948-1957, 1961-1965), the National Theatre School, the Stratford Festival, Halifax's Neptune Theatre, the Charlottetown Festival, the Canadian Opera Company, the Vancouver Playhouse and the St. Lawrence Centre. He once worked with Robert Oppenheimer on a United Nations radio documentary on atomic energy and helped organize events for the 1967 Canadian centennial. Moore wrote more than 100 plays, musicals and operas. He was made a Companion of the Order of Canada and received many awards and numerous honorary degrees. A familiar face with a balding pate and thick black glasses, he was a tireless advocate for Canadian culture, believing the arts to be the soul of a country, (said friend Max Wyman.) I think he’s right about that. The arts are, they must be, the soul of a country. After reading his memoirs - called Reinventing Myself - several times, I would have to add that he had a sharp sense of humour that could be satiric, ironic or just fun and he was also able to look laughingly at himself.
I decided you should have a small sample of a Mavor Moore play this morning. and so I have excerpted a portion of his play Come Away, Come Away. It is on a serious theme that is not evident at first. Farrell Boyce has added an interesting twist to it. I invite Lisa Hitch and Farrell Boyce to come forward and present it to you.
(excerpts from Mavor Moore’s play...”Come Away, Come Away”)
(Note: thanks to Farrell Boyce’s creativeness, the excerpts were presented as though they were the first part of a two part radio play which explained why the play did not have a conclusion! As well, he played a very realistic old man. And Lisa Hitch had the mannerisms and voice of a young girl just right!)
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A portion of the 'radio play,' “Come Away, Come Away” by Mavor Moore
Theme music in the style of “Guiding Light”
Music fades to silence
Announcer: In the previous episode of “Come Away, Come Away” by Mavor Moore, old Hiram had just gone out for a walk in Metro Park Woods on a fine autumn afternoon. He has paused for a while on a bench where he is warmed by the golden light of a low sun. Squirrels rustle in the fallen leaves near by. A young girl, gathering pretty leaves, approaches Hiram, stops and watches him for a moment as he pokes idly among the leaves with his Malacca cane. Lost in thought, Hiram fails to notice her…
Girl: Hi.
Old Man: Mm? Oh, hello there. (Pause)
Girl: I’m collecting leaves.
Old Man: Yes, I can see that. (Pause)
Girl: They’re all dead.
Old Man: Yes. Used to be green; then they turn red and stay on the tree for their picture and then they die.
Girl: That’s when they fall down
Old Man: Oh yes, that’s what happens (pause)
Girl: What are you doing?
Old Man: Me? Well, I was thinking.
Girl: Hmph.
Old Man: It may not sound like much, but there’s a good deal to thinking.
Girl: Is it harder ‘n reading?
Old Man: Oh, much. Reading, somebody else gives you the ideas. Thinking, you have to come up with them yourself.
Girl: How do you?
Old Man: Well at first you have to have a lot to think about. That means you have to have done a lot.
Girl: You mean lived?
Old Man: Yes, that’s it. Then you have to remember it. Now that’s not easy, remembering.
Girl: I remember lots of things.
Old Man: Oh, well, that’s because you haven’t got all that much to work on yet. I have boxes and files and cabinets and shelves and cupboards - right here in my head. Yes. someday I’ll get them all sorted out, you know ... but right now I flip open my mind, and out pops a thought - then another. You put one thought up against the next and they dance together, and the two of them make you think of another - and pretty soon there’s a whole roomful of thoughts, all shapes and sizes, a whole fancy dress ball - and you lose sight of the thought you started with, because all you can see is the pattern they make, like a crazy quilt, only moving, moving.
Girl: Like leaves?
Old Man: Yes. Pause Only it’s one after the other, you see. Like notes that make a tune and pretty soon you’ve forgotten the notes and only remember the tune. And the tune comes back and back, and you forget where it started. Echoes.
Girl: Hmph.
Pause
Old Man: Then you have to start remembering again.
Announcer: Old Hiram stares into the distance, as if in a trance. The young girl seems undecided as to whether to continue the conversation. She starts to move away and then, curious to know what has so occupied the old man’s mind, she circles back.
Girl: I saw you look away. You didn’t even see the water or the trees or anything.
Old Man: That’s what happens. There’s a difference, what you see and what you’re looking at.
Girl: How come?
Old Man: Well, you now, you think of what you’re doing, you look at what you’re seeing, at leaves. I think of what I’m looking at on the inside of my head. That’s because I’m old.
Girl: You shortsighted?
Old Man: A funny thing, that. When you get old, you grow four eyes.
Girl: Four?
Old Man: Yes. The two you started with get weaker, but then you grow two more that get stronger.
Girl: Show me.
Old Man: Oh, you can’t see them. One’s on the inside, so’s you can see your whole life, like movies, the best bits and the scary bits . . . get you all excited again . . . so you can be sure they really happened or couldn’t have happened . . .
Girl: Where’s the other eye?
Old Man: It’s outside somewhere, away out, at the end of a long arm, like a periscope, looking back at you, so you see yourself and everything you’re doing and can’t stop yourself doing.
Girl: Like what?
Old Man: Oh, talking. You hear other old people talking your ear off, and you swear you won’t be like that, but you talk.....Telling people you love to go to blazes. Throwing things out you want to keep and keeping things you want to throw out. Remembering. Most of all, remembering.
Girl: Don’t you like remembering?
Old Man: Some things..........but once it starts to work, you see, you can’t turn it off....things come piling in ..... he shivers
Girl: Things you want to forget?
Old Man: Yes. You think forgetting’s easy?
Girl: Sure. I forget all the time.
Old Man: That’s because you haven’t all that much to remember. Forgetting’s hard, hardest thing there is.
Girl: Harder than thinking?
Old Man: Oh yes. Because to think you have to forget an awful lot. An awful lot to think straight. It’s gone, you see -- all gone. Nothing you can do about it, any of it: the people, the times, the places......good, bad, indifferent. You have to look around you, what’s happening now. there’s an ache.....you can’t ache it over again. You need.... new aches..... to be alive.
Girl: Is that what you’ve got now?
Old Man: Talking to you?
Girl: You got an ache?
Old Man: Chuckling No! No, you make me feel better.
Girl: I made you think how old you were, didn’t I?
A long pause, the Old Man is deeply hurt. The Girl turns to poking dead leaves.
Girl: You got an ache now?
Old Man: Yes. I .... is that why you wanted to talk to me?
Girl: I just wondered.
Old Man: gradually recovering, chuckling.
That’s it! That’s better! Wondering! By george! Wonder - that’s the cure! That’s life - not to know what’s coming next and to care, to wonder! ..
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Theme music returns, swells, and then fades to quiet for voice-over by announcer
Announcer: Will Hiram be able to incorporate his wonderful insight into his life in the short time left to him? Who was the mysterious little girl who was the agent of this revelation? Tune in next week, same time same station, when we bring you the final episode of “Come Away, Come Away” by the famous Unitarian Playwright, Mavor Moore.
Theme music swells then fades to silence.
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Now the criteria for the plays I ultimately chose* were subjective, to say the least. I wanted to have plays that would have enough parts in them that play-reading groups would be interested; and for the most part I wanted them to be plays that Mavor wrote from his own creative muse. I say this because Mavor wrote many plays where he adapted the works of others, or where he took his theme from a previously written play or novel. Four of the plays I chose were from his own muse and two were adapted from others.
The six plays I chose were: “The Ottawa Man,” “Wise Guy,” “The Emperor’s Underclothes,” “The Well,” “Time Frame,” “Catch a Falling Star.” They cover a wide variety of themes.
“The Ottawa Man” is set in rural Manitoba and develops the story of a ‘government man’ who has come to check out how the town is doing. Some of the town people attempt to bribe him; but it turns out that the one they think is the government man is not ...and mayhem reigns. It also sneaks in a look at Canadian racism of the time.
“Wise Guy” A clever story about trying to understand people from watching what they do...and just how many interpretations there can be...
“The Emperor’s Underclothes” It’s a comedy set in an art gallery and demonstrates a clever way one can overcome nervousness in awkward situations
“The Well” I guess this is a melodrama or maybe a dark comedy.....it’s about a beloved Canadian author (a humorist known for his scathing look at humanity) who dies at a book-signing event. The author’s story was set in Hell (which he says is Victoria!)...and there’s supposed to be a final manuscript for a final book. The search for it reveals all sorts of unexpected dilemmas. Then unexpectedly it ends well.
“Catch a Falling Star” is a study of innocence, naiveté and maturity, of learning how hard it is to get from one to the other.As one of the characters says:(Juniper): “Innocence isn’t something you cling to, anymore than childhood or puppy-love. It’s not a state of grace, it’s a state of ignorance, stupidity and downright illiteracy about the human race...”
“Time Frame” It’s all about the meaning of time....in all its permutations.....not a play in the normal use of the word....just a collage of all the possible ways there are when one thinks about time.
What did I find was Unitarian about these plays?
Several of the plays deal with the belief that there is always an opportunity to make the world a better place. (There’s not a lot of original sin in these plays!); there’s also an insistence of looking at life straight-up - no rose-coloured glasses; then again the plays are all about how much we can learn by paying attention to the people around us - by learning to laugh at ourselves, by being willing to accept responsibility for what we have done, or what we may cause others to do.
The plays are about the need for ethical living; about actions speaking more loudly than words. Isn’t that what we’re about? Maybe others are about this too - but others will have to answer that, not me. All I know is that these plays speak loudly to what matters in life.
In time to come I hope you will enjoy reading these plays and finding your own meaning in them.
Closing Words
“Time has no beginning, and no ending.
And yet Time is a beginning....
and an ending....
and now....
Time has run out...”
from the end of “Time-Frame” by Mavor Moore
*Note: I have received permission from the Moore family to copy these plays and to use them as plays for play -reading groups within U*U congregations. jmrb
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