Ugh, Neil LaBute, ugh. He’s often described as “edgy” or “controversial,” and as is often true with other artists described in those terms, that translates to “nasty” and “boring.” I didn’t intend to take on the American premiere of his latest, In a Forest, Dark and Deep, but I didn’t read my editor’s schedule closely enough and found myself reviewing it last Thursday. (I should add that I did my best to go in with an open mind and see this production for what it was, rather than what I expected it to be.) There’s no question that LaBute can write decent dialogue and quickly take an audience to new depths of discomfort, and that’s a talent. But to do so without once writing a convincing female character is hackish. And to claim that you want to explore issues of truth and intimacy in your play, but then making your play clearly take sides and pass moral judgments, is dishonest.
Here’s an excerpt from my play review:
Cox is wonderful as a man who knows his place in the world and likes to opine on how others should live in it. Lowe is good too, but she has much less to work with, and there’s the crux of the problem. Betty is an incoherent character, a cheap assemblage of all the things men hate women for supposedly being: snobbish, slutty, unfaithful, bitchy, ambitious.
You can read the rest of the review here. I’m in the minority here in the theater world; LaBute is still quite the popular figure. Chris Jones loves him (although I think Jones and I have had opposite reactions to every single play we’ve both happened to review, so that’s not too surprising).
It’s too bad Profiles is so enamored of LaBute as to make him a resident playwright, because they have a talented group of people working there who could spend their time on plays that explore the breadth and depth of the human condition rather than LaBute’s sour misanthropy disguised as controversial profundity.
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so sorry you didn’t like the play–i’ll keep trying and you keep reviewing. i hope you’ve seen or read all of my work since you state with some kind of authority that i’ve never once written ‘a convincing female character.’ a fairly comprehensive statement but i wonder if that’s supported with complete scholarship or just another of your opinions? i’m sure that’s not the case as that kind of writing might appear to be ‘hackish’ and you seem to be against that at all costs. ugh, lisa findley, ugh.
“Complete scholarship” — do I need a PhD in LaButist Writing and Philosophy in order to state an opinion on my personal blog? How about a BA in English, over 40 published theater reviews, and a sharp and inquisitive mind? Because that’s what I’ve got. That makes me plenty qualified to opine on any play I see.
The various other works of yours I’ve seen (Possession; The Shape of Things; the framing for Chicago Shakespeare’s Taming of the Shrew, a review of which you famously freaked out over) fit the same pattern of big idea, shoddy execution. Also, I try to keep abreast of the critical reception of major contemporary playwrights (congrats, I guess that makes you one!).
Your work tackles important moral issues (the responsibility of the artist, how society shapes us, the nature of truth), but it seems the only lens you use to filter these issues is a misogynistic, heck even misanthropic, one (and you know I’m not the first critic to say so). This cripples your writing; poor characterization and overt moralizing get in the way of overarching themes every time.
Eesh. I can barely read the above through the self-importance being lobbed on both sides.
Okay, thanks for stopping by!
You’re amazing, Lisa.
Cheers, Amanda!
they are definitely your opinions and you have more than enough right to opine on any subject you like. maybe read a few more of my plays, though, before slathering on as much hyperbole as you do. perhaps start with FAT PIG (or one of many others). enjoy.
and sorry for taking up some of your precious blog-reading time, madelyn. forgive me. apparently i’m prone to ‘freak outs.’
I’m a writer, too, so I understand how easy it is to focus on one line of criticism. But to apply your own idea of comprehensive reading, might I suggest reading the rest of the post, which has several compliments for the play. Or read the review itself, which really engages with your stated purpose (yep, I read the program at the theater and all the promo material). It’s a little much to take one short sentence and accuse me of slathering on hyperbole. Almost an overreaction, one might say.
i read both your post and your review before my first comments (and all of the promo material as well) and i still think that’s a massive leap to say i’ve never written a convincing female character. but hey, you’re a writer too and amanda apparently thinks you’re “amazing” (the quotes are for rory) so stick to your guns. Enjoy FAT PIG if you ever get around to it.
I’ve heard I might like it, so I might give Fat Pig a try.
Is it really too much to ask of our major contemporary playwrights that they employ standard English quotation marks and capitalization?
sorry, rory, but yes it is. i have gotten into the habit of writing without capitalization and it’s a hard thing to break. not too great with the quotation marks, either. i am also apparently fairly crap at writing female characters (see above) but please ‘opine’ for yourself.
“please ‘opine’ for yourself.” Don’t think that’s going to be a problem. By the way, say hi to Joe Jahrhouse for me, he’s a nice fella from my dealings with him, which is one of my opinions, admittedly one lacking scholarship or peer reviewed credentials or anything.
see? you’re great with capitalization! you are my new “Hero” (which i used a bit of unnecessary capitalization and quotes on, just to show that i too have a sense of humor even if i understand and/or utilize precious few elements of style).
Damn, when I wrote a blog post on Shrew-Gate a few years ago, I couldn’t get Neil LaBute to respond to the bait at ALL. Mazel Tov, Lisa!
Ah but I totally enjoyed your contribution to Shrew-Gate, Zev. Thanks!
any time you want to chat, zev, i’m here for you. promise. and to end on a positive note, you write pretty entertaining and informed stuff. good for you.
I am Neil Labute’s Hero. I can’t help but be strangely proud of this. (That was totally improper capitalization)
Neil, I am hosting the red carpet show at the Jeffs on June 4th. Will you come and be a live correspondent?
no, but my Hero, rory, might go with “you.” or ask ms. findley, as she likes to opine about stuff.
I do love to opine!
Andy, please do an actual red carpet show. You and Eric would be amazing.
June 4th 5:30pm. You can watch it online! We need Neil, though. Maybe he will Skype in. Or at least do an interview with us.
wow, i feel like i’ve made so many new “friends” (and at least one “Hero”). good luck with all your ‘writings’ and ‘shows’ and ‘world travels.’ keep in touch!
Neil, you are an American treasure! Please Skype in with us! My god, the friends you’ve made today will love it!
I found this exchange to be really entertaining and enlightening, actually. I think the new informational age when anyone and everyone can comment publicly about a piece of art and then the artist can read those reactions presents a new challenge for artists. Before, you had to actually hang out in/ around the theater to hear what everyone was saying about your work. It’s great to have that sort of feedback at your fingertips, but also sort of paralyzing in a way. Audience reception has been an issue as long as art has been created, but what happens now that we can see AND respond to their reactions? How does that change how we make art? How we revise art? In my case, it mostly means I don’t share my work as much or that I just wear my arts admin hat more.
But it’s hard to write theatre about things that happen online without boring the face off of everyone- you know?
you make many good points, amy. wish i had some answers for you (or even one). i do hope you continue to share your work–don’t let a few thoughtless words stop you. it certainly hasn’t stopped me (although i definitely have my share of ill-wishers out there). good luck to you!
Amy, I’m going to–wait for it–agree with Neil here, and say don’t let others stop you from expressing your art! If you have ideas to express, get on out there and express them. Sometimes you will express your ideas, and someone else will express theirs, and you’ll find yourself in a weird tiff on your personal blog, but even that can be, as you said, entertaining and enlightening.
I think it’s helpful to look at it as less of an adversarial relationship between artist and critic (or artist and critical audience member) and more of a shared creative process. The artist creates something, and the critic’s response is also creative. It’s an exchange of ideas that I find helpful both as a writer of essays and as a theater critic. Granted, I’m much more likely to be defensive about my essays, because those are my original thoughts, whereas with a play review I’m engaging with thoughts already expressed. But I still find the exchange invigorating no matter what role I’m playing.
i would ‘opine’ that the critical role is a reactive one rather than a creative one, but i think it can be done quite creatively in the right hands. i do, however, agree that this has been invigorating and i hope that no person’s toes have been completely crushed in the process.
My familiarity with Sir LaBute extends only as far as the film version of The Shape of Things. Rachel Weisz was soooo mean to Paul Rudd in that movie. Ladies are such assholes.
rachel was only acting, claire. i promise. ladies can be such assholes, it’s true, but they are often lovely and kind as well. i only wish i could write them better!
Ok, that’s good to know. Do you think you could get me Paul Rudd’s phone number? I just want to ask him something real quick.
ha! no, claire, but an excellent attempt at getting me to drop my defenses. i give you many points for trying.
For what it’s worth, I think it’s unfair to say that Mr. Labute has NEVER written a convincing female character. I’ve not seen this new show, but the female lead of Fat Pig, for example, has no real personality dysfunctions or insecurities or whatever – it’s the inability of the main character to overcome what he perceives as a flaw in her (her weight) that sabotages the relationship. Labute being a bigger guy (at least from pictures that I’ve seen), one might even suggest that the woman in that play is something like his avatar, which wouldn’t exactly align very nicely with the accusations of misogyny.
Oh the curse of one line haunting you forever… Yes, saying “But to do so without once writing a convincing female character is hackish” was a little strong if I haven’t seen or read every single one of his works to double check the accuracy of such a statement. That’s why I put it in my blog and not my review, which was narrowly focused to the play and not his entire oeuvre.
As I mentioned in another comment, I’ve heard several times that I would enjoy “Fat Pig,” and for some of the same reasons you mention here. I will probably check it out.
thank you for your timely support, phantomhunting–i might agree with ‘rarely’ but ‘never’ did seem a little unjust. worth mentioning, anyway. and just so you know, i’m not as big as i used to be (in photos) but probably still ‘bigger’ by most forms of measurement.
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