The central argument of Geoffrey Proehl's Toward a Dramaturgical Sensibility: Landscape and Journey is that those who practice dramaturgy should acknowledge and celebrate the "tension which exists . . . between a need to generalize, assert, and define and a counter-need not to be caught too tightly in generalizations, assertions, and definitions" (119). In both form and substance, Proehl advocates a sensibility that balances the intellectual and the emotional, the concrete and the ephemeral, the yin and the yang of theatrical practice. Using Cleopatra's response, "Not know me yet?" (3.13.162), to Antony's jealous accusation as an analog for the dramaturg's experience, the book explores the philosophy and practice of dramaturgy in a unique way. Proehl writes that Cleopatra's question is "inseparable from the development of a dramaturgical sensibility. The process of trying to unravel the mysteries and indeterminacies of a play's dramaturgy which creates in those who undertake this work . . . an awareness of the limits and potential of knowledge" (17). Three impulses inspired him: an "interest in how dramaturgs describe their work" (18), the desire to understand how a play works dramaturgically, and an awareness of the deeply personal nature of the theatrical experience.
In part 1, Proehl uses "Landscapes" as a metaphor for the ground on which dramaturgical practice is built. Chapter 1, "Conversations," treats the role of language and its complement, silence. He observes that talking and writing are the dramaturg's essential tools for understanding how a play works and how best to collaborate with other artists. He also notes the limitations of language and its frequent failure to communicate true meaning. Silence is also fundamental to the dramaturg's work. Whether observing the silences in a text, practicing "brilliant listening" or self-imposed silence, Proehl "affirms the value of dramaturgical silence" (43).
Chater 2, "Pleasure," is the first of two chapters that investigate the dramaturgical sensibility in terms of the Dionysain (the pleasure of learning, research, contemplation) and the Apollonian (the search for patterns, methods, techniques). Proehl's prose style embodies the complexity he seeks to unveil. His first section is a meditation on temporality and its significance in characters' lives, both in the process of making theatre and as a symbol of expectancy and loss. The second section covers research and knowledge, which Proehl asserts are more complicated than "the normative expectation that dramaturgs will be a source of useful, scholarly information about the play . . . and its contexts" (61). He notes that "suspicion that knowledge is antithetical to the creative process" (62) has led dramaturgs to examine the paradox inherent in their roles as researchers - that the unknowable feeds the dramaturgical sensibility as powerfully as research. He weaves an account of American dramaturgs' perpetual efforts to define themselves and concludes with a tribute to his mentor, Michael Lupu, who believes that "the inherent, theatrical potential of the written text is its most important feature" (111).
Chapter 3, "Pattern," addresses dramaturgy as the analysis of a play's action. Defining dramaturgy here as "a close reading of the musical interplay among the parts of a play and the whole it becomes when staged" (87), Proehl summarizes six methods of script analysis honed in classrooms and rehearsals by Elinor Fuchs, DD Kugler, Lee Devin, Julian Olf, David Ball, and himself. He notes the tension that exists between the need to develop an analytical vocabulary and the need to "continually question its limitations" (87). The chapter's compilation of various approaches is a valuable resource for teachers and practitioners of script analysis. Proehl's technique uses the terms "melodrama," "metaphor," and "closure" as "rough metonyms for basic ways of thinking about a play's dramaturgy" (105). These amorphous categories reflect his commitment to honoring a text's ambiguities, but seem too abstract to be useful in clarifying its working structure.
In part 2, "Journey," three chapters draw a vivid picture of Proehl's experiences as the production dramaturg for the Guthrie Theater's 2002 production of Antony and Cleopatra. If the book's first half provides the concrete examples and descriptions of a case study, Chapter 4, "Engage," describes his first approaches to Shakespeare's text and his early interactions with director Mark Lamos. The formation of this working relationship emphasizes the centrality of collaboration to the dramaturg's practice. Here, Proehl links his observations about time, pleasure, and pattern with practical reality: the importance of finding "the right moment and the right means" (146) to engage with collaborations. Chapter 5, "Explore," catalogs his pre-rehearsal study of the text, the world of the play, Shakespeare's world, the contemporary context, and the world of the production as well as production history, commentary and criticism on Antony and Cleopatra, and research on imagery. This chapter demonstrates palpably the pleasure of research, while illustrating vividly the amount of work that exploration requires.
Proehl begins his final chapter, "Respond," with a caveat: "nothing that follows assumes that this play is any more knowledgeable that Cleopatra was to Antony, or he to her" (182). He offers insight into the production process from the dramaturg's point of view and shows how he used his perceptions of patterns to give Lamos feedback regarding the shape and interpretation of the play. Proehl's exhaustive notes illustrate the careful thinking and communication that this moment in the production process demands. The length and detail of the notes are impressive; clearly they came to form the book's essence and served Proehl's need to "attempt to understand and respond to the dramaturgy of a play, now taking the final steps in its transition from page to stage" (188). The themes, images, and character choices in the Guthrie production sparked Proehl's investigation of the mysteries of production dramaturgy suggested by Cleopatra's query, "Not know me yet?"
Toward a Dramaturgical Sensibility is a complex inquiry into the definitions, philosophy, and practice of dramaturgy that declines to provide simple answers or definitive instructions. Instead, it engages the indeterminacies and ambiguities of the field through metaphor, personal experience, description, imagery, analysis, and a case study. Geoffrey Proehl's book challenges dramaturgs to embrace the complexity of their art.
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