Drinking in Milk Wood

In Elizabethan England it was said that people went to go “hear” a play – auditoriums were crammed so closely together with patrons that the stage often could not be entirely seen. There were also groundlings that stood in front of the stage because it was cheaper than a seat at theatres like the Globe, the Swan and the Rose, and roamed about while eating nuts and oranges, somewhat blocking the view for some of the other patrons. Many of these theatres were built in the round – and so to sit nearly behind the stage also provided constraints on what one could see. Though the theatres were about three stories high, the poorer people needed to depend on their sense of hearing to get the gist of the show, typically. And sometimes if you had a seat, the view was completely blocked by the architecture of the theatre itself– this is why Shakespeare’s plays were performed out in the open on a thrust stage, without a set. People listened to the story as it unfolded, and that is also why iambic pentameter, the soliloquy and prose were so important to the audiences to recognize – they indicated a change in mood, in action or setting. One had to listen in order to understand the exposition, arc and dénouement of the play…

And the art of listening is something that became compromised with the ever-advancing intrigues of technology; we use our eyes so much more than any other sense for entertainment. Perhaps the current equivalent of a groundling could be considered a mosh pit for rock concerts. We are constantly visually stimulated in this world – there is so much to see, and so much for our eyes to focus on. We even text rather than call, email instead of hand write a letter. You’re on the internet right now reading, in fact, instead of talking to me about my thoughts of theatre and art…

Under Milk Wood was a joy to listen to because even when I got lost with some of the storylines, I could still take great pleasure by closing my eyes and simply listening to the beautiful voices on stage – eager to tell a story, crisply connecting the words of Dylan Thomas’ world together in an art form that is vastly unappreciated today. We have things to do, people to see and places to go and just don’t take the time to stop and really listen. People are pushed in this ADD society for constant stimulus – and they get bored easily if not given more than one thing to focus on at a time.

It was a delectable treat for my ears to retreat for awhile from the stimulation of having to watch for a sight gag or be annoyed by an actor’s tics, costumes or set. Time slowed down for a little while, and I could focus on the beauty of the words, and the beauty of the voices I was listening to. I was able to let go of everything else and simply slow down and let my other senses rest while I got caught up in the eloquence of language, the different voices, the fantastic characterizations, and the streaming thoughts of another person from another time and place.

Joe Dickson was notably expressive – I can’t imagine this is easy reading, and he was also able to use his face to convey more to the meaning of the words he spoke. I was listening to the difference in tambour of the voices on stage – James Houska falling into distinctly separate characters both funny and sad, Brenda McKenzie bringing up visions of a town gossip, Linda Gras as a cantankerous neighbor, Bob Gras as the narrator for the most part, though split as the observer’s voice with Joe Dickson, LeAnn Dethlefsen as a forlorn lover – and Rick Dethlefsen delivered my absolute favorite line of the show with a perfection of texture and richness that I still smile to recall it. This short list really does dis-service to all of the characters these fine voices brought life to – there was just too much for me to keep up and describe…

This show certainly isn’t for everyone; in fact, it’s probably something very few people would enjoy at all. There is no visual stimulation, really – the actors focus on the story and in telling it; that is what is unique about this production. There are no costumes to judge, no set to bother with, no action to critique…the charm of the show lies in the voices Mr. Gras chose to tell Dylan Thomas’ story.

But – if you want to slow down, if you want to rest your eyes and open up your imagination, then Under Milk Wood may be something for you to try. At least for me I found it soothing, and a bit sad at times, humorous at others – and absolutely human. If nothing else, I was able to take two hours, let my other senses rest, and listened to the popping combination of consonance and alliterative dancing ~ and I left thoroughly relaxed.

Under Milkwood runs again this weekend at the Creole Gallery. For more information go to www.riverwalktheatre.org