A blogger's "out takes" of SCR's current production of Howard Korder's In a Garden

I'm choosing to call this my "blogger out takes" of my review of South Coast Rep's current production of "In A Garden."

The truth is this is a second review (or "un-review") of, yes, the very same play.

I apologize for any confusion, however if you'd like to read my "real review" of the same play, Howard Korder's "In a Garden" now playing at SCR, then click here.

What you will find here in this post is more of a personal discussion of the same play.

(I know, a little weird, but, just indulge me and go with it.)

______________________________________

It all began, my overwhelming trepidation about writing about this, when I read the following statement in the press release: "In a Garden is not a traditional drama or comedy..."

Anytime I see a play described as “not a traditional comedy or drama,” little alarms go off in my head making me wonder if this is some sort of escape clause for what will ultimately be an underdeveloped quagmire of ideas. I feared this kind of description may be a tip off to a lack of perspective at the heart of something that shuns defining itself.

And so, it was (with needless) trepidation that I attended the premiere of Howard Korder's In a Garden this weekend in Costa Mesa.

No doubt, I can often be a tough audience, especially when I feel pressured to wear my "thinking hat" to see a play.

To be honest, I worried it would all be too much to juggle on top of having to quiet my inner “Simon” who already chomps at the bit with a nearly Tourette's-like disregard for where the chips may fall. In vain I have often conjured my inner "Ellen" just so she can somehow soften my first, often too severe knee-jerk reaction to something. The prospect of having to do all this while wearing a big, tall thinking hat felt like it may be too daunting. Or, so I thought.

As the lights to Korder's "In a Garden" dimmed, my heart raced. This was "a political play." I don't know nothing 'bout nation building. How would I survive this? It was official: I Was Intimidated.

But, thankfully, I didn't need to be.

However, as I said earlier, any former wariness about seeing In a Garden, was short-lived because I love theater. I firmly believe it is incomparable to anything else we have to maintain our cultural integrity. And I keep forgetting this. And I need not to. It’s vital. Theater is vital to our survival. I really do believe this.

And what I forgot was that it didn't matter that it was a political piece, it's a theater piece, so that meant that it would all be fine. And it was. (Whew.)

Since theater is built on the craft of writing and the sharing of ideas as a shared common experience, before coming to personal conclusions, it is now without hesitation that I urge you to go see In a Garden, whether or not you bring your "thinking hat." (You'll be fine. You'll be more than fine. I was.)

To take this one step further, it's just that in a society where "culture" is often experienced at the speed of light, or from behind a laptop, being inside a real theater this isn’t just good for the soul, it is essential. It is what makes us human.

In a world fragmented and isolated by bytes, Kindles and frequencies, sharing a live performance with others is more important than ever, especially with regard to our yet to be decided national history. “In a Garden,” is precisely the kind of play best explored with others, which is why I encourage others to be sure to catch this fascinating world premiere now playing at South Coast Rep.

On the outside of things In a Garden, appears to be a mere a character study of two men, the Minister of Culture in a fictional country (which sounds a whole lot like Iraq) who is interested in hiring a young, handsome American architect to commission to building something of immense importance. What that is, precisely, is not revealed until well into the first act.

Othman, (played by Mark Harelik) the minister, has selected Hackett, (played by Matt Letscher) an architect for a variety of reasons: Most notably, he’d seen him in a book containing the work of 20 hot architects under the age of 40, and Othman admits that he was only interested in hiring someone who would embody all the fire and passion and skill required to build a structure that he later describes as a house for the soul. Although Hackett admits that he has not actually built anything, yet, this does not deter Othman’s desire to work with him, and a partnership between the two is born.

In the play's program are a collection of quotes by several famous architects. I felt that the following quote came closest to delivering the most relevant theme of the play:

"The dialogue between client and architect is about as intimate as any conversation you can have, because when you are talking about building a house you are talking about dreams."

--- architect Robert A. M. Stern, quoted in the program notes

We come to learn later in the play that there are no idle crumbs of information penned by Korder. Each seemingly innocuous tidbit becomes either fodder for emotional blackmail for Othman’s later use, or is merely a deceptively cunning carrot dangled in front of what appears to be just a typically ambitious American falling prey to his own ego.

Often, what appeared to be random penis-talk by an oddly chatty Othman, is, in fact, really a desperate attempt to build intimacy with Hackett, although it all seemed really bizarrely Freudian to me. No matter.

At first, the architect is thrilled and flattered to have been brought to such far-flung and intriguing locale to create, to finally "get built" in the heart of the Middle East, a place of such history and culture. To make one's mark in a place of ancient legacies. An inticing prospect, indeed, if he can ever figure out just what Othman actually wants. All those questions about his American wife. All that information about circumcision. What does any of this have to do with the price of tea in China? Oh, well, we all have to serve someone.

But, as time goes on, it appears that the assignment is not as easily fulfilled as one would normally imagine.

Eventually both Hackett and Othman are led down a cultural and moral labyrinth as old as the sands of time. To whom do we serve, and why? Are the sacrifices worth it? Do we share the same ideals? Do we even speak the same language?

There are intimate discussions between the two that seem, inexplicably to meander for days, or weeks, months and even years. Eventually, there are secrets and betrayals:

The Minister finally reveals that the structure up for commission is in reality a summer house, but one that it is very, very important to him and thus, he argues, worth building and should not be dismissed as unworthy.

You see, his father loved the lemon trees and the garden, and Othman is obsessed with returning to the one place he was the most happy. A place of hummingbirds, lemon groves, dragonflies, a lofty memorial to a time and place before anyone could sell out their dreams or soul for any unpleasant political reasons.

Then the architect takes these new heartfelt directives based on the smell of lemon groves and the bluest skies and eventually produces a building that both he and the minister can agree upon.

A place to evoke peace, beauty, harmony. Art. This finally speaks to both men, finally, eventually a sketch is created that meets the high, often obscure standards of this Minister of Culture. And it appears there might be a return to the Garden of Eden, when innocence was bliss.

Then, finally, we meet the feared and imposing Saddam-like character, “Brother Najid” (played by Jarion Monroe) who finally asks the architect directly what we all want to know, “Why do you need a gazebo?”

And Hackett snaps back, almost without thinking, that they need a place in order “to forget how horrible we all are.”

Apparently, that was the right answer. Brother Najid gives his stamp of approval, and finally the project moves forward. After, of course, Najid insisting that when Hackett returns to America he should “tell your president that we are all good boys.”

The climatic end of the play takes place in 2004, and shows the same view of the lofty, palatial setting, only this time it is in near shambles presided over by one of our own soldiers in fatigues, sucking down a Starbucks who tells the architect that the minister of culture was in custody being questioned “somewhere” about his actions. I don’t want to give too much away, but it really is one of the best scenes in the play.

The architect finds himself still very much missing the presence of his longtime patron, given that for the past fifteen years they have built a relationship upon shared intimacies.

Only in the play’s surprising climax (including a lovely final scene with actor, Phillip Vaden) do we learn the true fate and purpose of Othman’s obsessive, relentless patronage.

The play, like so many other plays, is about our dreams. However Korder investigates the pragmatics of our dreams. In other words, how to hold on to one’s dreams while doing that which is required to survive. How do we nourish our Gardens of Eden while surviving?

True, occasionally I felt that the themes driving the play did not do enough to grab me by the heart and make me care enough about either character, however I also realized this carefulness was probably intentional. I sensed that Korder deliberately chose to not manipulate the audience by appearing to make one man more likeable than the other, thus keeping the playing field that much more fair. But, I wondered if there might be a cost to keeping this playing field this level.

But in today’s world people have little patience for not knowing which is the good guy and which is the bad one, so I felt this choice could be costly to the production, to say the least.

During intermission I had to fight a dislike for the characters given that neither of managed to win my heart yet.

But my theater companion loved the story and reminded me that some stories require more patience than others. A point well taken, given the way the play’s pace and plot heated up so much more in Act Two. I was happy I’d reserved judgment until the final few scenes.

I also would be remiss not to mention one other pet peeve about the play: In a Garden does suffer from what can only be described as a dire lack of estrogen.

I mean, there isn't a real woman in the play, either figuratively or literally. As I’m not familiar with Korder’s work, I do not have a point of reference for this. Perhaps my gripe is unfair given the nature of the beast regarding any story about men in the Middle East. But, it sounded so Freudian and mysogistic sometimes. Really.

It was disturbing hearing the women in play being dismissed as bothersome nags, temporary erotic morsels, or simply just mindless fatties who were a chore to sleep with. Guess mom should have bonded more, I don't know.

Oh, well. That’s life behind the sand curtain, I guess I suppose I'll have to cancel that trip to Iran for my next Girl’s Night Out next month.

On a more serious note, while the show was sincerely engrossing, it did fail to speak to my heart, which I found a bit regrettable.

I'm American. I like being sentimental. I wanted to care about someone up there. Frankly, it was a chore not to. I wanted to like Hackett, but inevitably we learn he's such a jerk to the women in his life, that I didn't care a bit about his brilliant career by the end of the play.

So, I did feel the story could have helped by adding a few more moments where we could identified a bit more with either one of the main characters. I don't think doing so would made the story any more precious or manipulative.

The story’s main appeal is an intellectual one. Which is fine, but ultimately I was frustrated by both Hackett and Othman, often wanting to clout one or both around the ears for not admitting to some serious communication breakdowns between them during the play.

But, that’s probably because I’m such a girl.

Women read through body language more than men, I think, and I happen to think the play’s body language was impossibly stiff for a bit longer than any female could stand, whether or not they were stuck inside a burka.

But, back to the great side of things, I will say that everyone in the production really brought quality work to their roles, all of them enlisting the kind of timing and experience only well-seasoned stage actors can deliver, making it a resoundingly satisfying evening of theater, regardless of my being such a girl about it all.

I know this is long. And for that, I apologize. But, clearly, I had a lot to say, and thanks to my internal battle of the critics, I am now able to offer you not one, but two reviews, or "explorations," of the same show.

-- A bargain at today's prices.


To read my "real review" of Howard Korder's In a Garden, currently playing at South Coast Rep, then click here.

And to read my review of Ordinary Days, another recent production from earlier this year at South Coast Rep, click here.

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