Inspiration, Alan Rickman Style

Part-way into writing “Finding Emmaus”, I came across an Alan Rickman interview on YouTube. The topic was “Snow Cake”, a very moving film which I adore.

The interviewer (whom I cannot remember) had asked Mr. Rickman a question about finding a balance between sorrow and humor in a movie such as this, which intertwines several stories simultaneously, all of which are profoundly sad. Mr. Rickman’s response was, “All good writing has humor in it.”

Naturally, my brain leapt directly into its databanks, searching the already-written portions of my book for instances of humor, in fear that my readers might, after turning the final page, sink into months of depression, wishing they’d never heard of a bookstore. But then he said something which really blew me away. I mean really. The long-range effect of his next two words - yes, just two words, nine letters - was a permanent shift in the way I write.

He said, “Even Ibsen.”

Several things happened in rapid succession:

The camera never left Mr. Rickman’s face, so I never actually witnessed the interviewer’s reaction to those words. However, based on Mr. Rickman’s subsequent reaction, I got the distinct impression those two words went completely over the interviewer’s head. Not only didn’t he see it coming, he never saw it as it flew on by and departed.

Meanwhile, I was thinking, “Ibsen? Humor?? Hmmm. Hmmm? Nah…” I remember Ibsen from school and I don’t recall a whole lot of giggling in the classroom.

Then I thought, “Well, maybe he was joking.” Except he didn’t look like he was. So then I thought, “OK, this is an educated man, probably well-read, maybe there’s another Ibsen I’m not aware of.”

So I Googled the name and of course I came up with the one and only. I got my hands on copies of “A Doll’s House”, “An Enemy of the People” and “Ghosts”, bound and determined to find the humor that Mr. Rickman, a man I very much respect and admire, had said would be there.

All this happened right about the same time “Creditors” opened in London - a play Mr. Rickman was directing. In the hopes that I’d see it, I decided I needed to read that play as well, just so I’d know what to expect once I got to the theater. I’d read lots of reviews, most of them good, all of them claiming this play to be ‘darkly comic’.

So there I was, pouring through Ibsen and Strindberg, becoming increasingly agitated as the pages went by. Something was wrong. I wasn’t laughing. But I kept reading. I’m sorry, it wasn’t funny to me, just pathetic. I never even cracked a smile.

And then my dream was realized, I made it to London and got to see “Creditors”. And I LOVED IT! Not only did I smile, I roared.

And so I was forced to come to a very sad conclusion: obviously something is missing in me, some internal mechanism which would otherwise allow me to comprehend and appreciate a play with the same depth of emotion with which I understand the rolling narrative of the novel. Must be a some defect in my DNA. I’m missing that gene. Just as some folks will never wiggle their ears and others will never roll up their tongues to resemble a bakery pastry, I just don’t read plays right (*sigh*).

But I also get to live with something else, something I will cherish and hold dear for the rest of my life. Those two words, “Even Ibsen”, inspired me to think deeply about what I write, about what is vitally important in my stories. Life, even in its most profoundly tragic moments, gives us a break - as in the way we humans will fondly recount an amusing story about a recently-lost loved one, even at a funeral.

Mr. Rickman’s words changed the way I write, but more than that, they forever altered the way I observe when I read.

Maybe one day I’ll get the opportunity to thank him in person.

Copyright © 2008, All Rights Reserved

My Review of The Creditors - Directed by Alan Rickman - Seen on Wednesday, October 29th 2008

Seeing the play Creditors at the Donmar in London was my birthday present to myself and Alan Rickman was directing, so my expectations were high. And, I am happy to report, they were met. In fact, met and exceeded - beginning with the first moment I walked into the building.

First, a foreword: I restore vintage buildings for a living, so for me the experience began upon entering the front door. Charm and atmosphere to spare. Then you walk into the theater itself and the pleasure continues. It's small and the seats are extremely comfortable - long, upholstered benches which you share with people to your left and right, so you truly do get a feeling of intimacy - and there is not a bad seat in the house. Personally, I think a play, because it is so public an activity, is enhanced when it is shared with others. At this theater, known as the Donmar Warehouse, because of the way the seats are constructed (mind you, this was my first trip to England, so if this is a common occurrence, please forgive my ignorance), you get to meet - and laugh with and gasp with - your neighbors. A perfect, delightful venue for a play with a topic so intimate.

I had heard about the water trough but could not imagine it until I actually saw it. For anyone who's not been there, it is indeed a trough - conveniently painted black so you're nearly guaranteed to not see it if you're checking the seat backs for you letter and number! - about 30 inches wide and probably just as high, which surrounds the stage on three sides - so it is between the audience and the stage. I had a second row seat so I was not effected by it, just a bit perplexed. I mean, I understand the significance of it - if I'm remembering correctly, I believe I've read it's supposed to be a reminder that one is not far from the water. But GB's not all that ghastly huge and, after all, it IS an island, so why anyone would NEED reminding . . . . well, anyway, it added to the fun and surprise of the evening.

Upon entering the theater, a recorded voice admonishes you to turn off your cell phone and mind the water trough. Safely in my seat, one of my neighboring seat-mates asked me how anyone could possibly fall into it, as it really is not in the way. No sooner had the words left his mouth when a patron directly in front of us lost his footing and doused not only himself but another patron who was sitting in the front row, reading his program, minding his own business. Everyone - and I do mean everyone, remember, there's not a bad seat in the house - got a good look at it and a good laugh.

Regarding the play itself, there has been so much written to date that I would only parrot 99% of what's already out there, so let me say simply that I honestly felt as though I was part of the drama which unfolded between these three amazing actors - and it was intense drama. There were lots of laughs, to be sure, Owen Teale's character garnering the lions' share of them. Lies slid so smoothly off of Gustav's tongue that even the most appalling ones were appreciated. In fact, the more appalling they were (such as sex being the cause of Epilepsy and 12 months of complete celibacy Adolph's only hope at survival!), the more I loved to hate Gustav.

If I had to pick which of the three actors was the most powerful, the most memorable, I would definitely have to say Mr. Teale. He shifted from duplicity to disgust to callousness to passion to rage and back again with such ease and silky smoothness, he was a human version of a Stradivarius. I would have enjoyed the opportunity to shake his hand and tell him so, and would have enjoyed the opportunity to do the same with the illustrious director, Mr. Alan Rickman, but alas, that was not to be.

For anyone who has never seen anything directed by Alan Rickman or has never seen Owen Teale in action, do yourself a HUGE favor and GO OUT OF YOUR WAY TO DO JUST THAT! Creditors was everything I'd hoped it would be - and a fabulous way to celebrate by birthday.

Copyright © 2008, All Rights Reserved