What do we want from plays?
Okay, that's a very broad question.
After the first scene of Jordan Harrison's new play Log Cabin, during which the affluent gay characters gather in a fancy New York City apartment (that is no doubt owned, not rented) in 2012 to discuss getting married and...AIDS, I turned to my boyfriend and said, "yes, because gay people only talk about being gay."
And that's all of these characters, gay, trans, and straight, talk about. (Well, there's some shoehorned race discussions as well, because that's another hot button issue right now so why not?) We don't know much about them other than they're gay, or trans, or only date trans men. The only other info we get about them is that they are wealthy. Because of course they are. These are gay people who are no longer dying of AIDS, who can now get married, have children, be at least somewhat accepted by and have a place in society, and of course, have trust funds and be successful writers and work for Charles Schwab and own their apartments in New York City with rooftop gardens and bars. These people couldn't possibly want for anything more.
So maybe this is what Harrison is trying to say: that some gay (cis) men and women sort of forget where they came from, forget that people fought to get them a seat at the table, and there's still a bit farther to go, especially when Henry, the trans character, enters the action. Harrison shows that although you may have been oppressed, you can still have your privilege checked. So what it amounts to is a pissing contest. Who wins the title of "most oppressed?"
What Harrison writes isn't so much a play (there's no real character development or conflict, unless being something other than heterosexual is a conflict) but an essay entitled, "How the Lives of the LGBT Community Have Changed Since the AIDS Crisis, and How They Can Still Improve (With Ruminations on Race)." The characters talk as though they are lecturing each other. They have no personalities, no interests, nothing else to say to each other if it's not related to their sexualities!
And well, I think Harrison fails when it comes to race and gender. The lone black character, Chris, attempts to tell the others that even though he is a cis male, and may have privilege over trans men (and all women), he is still black. But the other characters don't seem to care or listen to him when he expresses his unhappiness with being lumped in with straight, white men. In Harrison's world, being born male and living as a male grants you power and privilege, regardless of race or sexuality. Even when Ezra, Chris' husband who is cis and white, takes umbrage with being lumped into the same category of privilege as straight men, he is told he's ridiculous and quickly silenced. This is irresponsible on the part of the playwright. Harrison had an agenda when writing this play. He decided that trans issues, undoubtedly another hot button issue, were going to be his main focus, and he was going to be on the side of his trans character no matter what, that the development of other interesting themes and ideas suffers. Harrison pays no actual mind to the two cis female characters, the lesbians, and what is means to female. I suspect it's because he has no idea, and no interest. I think they exist just to have a baby, which is really messed up. Women are more than just mothers, Jordan Harrison. (Although one of them, Jules, the one who did not carry the child, does sleep with Henry in her son's room while the baby is sleeping, while her wife is mere feet away. Because you know, trans men are so irresistible. The fact that she is only doing this because of the novelty of it is never explored, and even though it's clear her wife knows about this dalliance, she forgives her because that's what straight people have done for centuries.) And once again, although there is very short discussions about misogyny in the trans community, and what is means to be psychologically male, it doesn't go anywhere.
Jules' infidelity isn't even the most ridiculous of plot points. Henry has a cis female girlfriend, Myna, who is a millennial, but only exists to be hysterical and ridiculous (as women are prone to be, right?). And yet, she brings up another theme that should be explored but of course, it isn't. She's a cis, straight woman so she really doesn't matter here (even after she overhears her boyfriend cheating on her from the next room) but she is the only one here that checks the others on their financial privilege. She makes a point about the way they and their generation consume things, people, but like Chris' concerns about race, they go unexplored and remain undeveloped. We never seen Myna after her one brief scene. Why bring up class issues if you're not going to do anything with them? It's like Harrison was just ticking off the boxes of hot button issues. Less is more, especially when you're not going to develop things.
When the play tries to have some sense of plot, it's a bit of mess that is, once again, not developed. Chris and Ezra decide to have a child of their own, and want Henry to carry him or her. After some minimal hemming and hawing about wanting to be seen only as a man, and not wanting to undo everything he has become after years of struggling to be seen and present only as a man, Henry agrees to stop taking testosterone and get pregnant (I guess because it'll be with Chris' sperm, not Ezra's? Who the hell knows?) And then, when Henry is about six or seven months pregnant, we get some 11 o'clock exposition (and a new plot point!) that involves Chris, the one who really, really wanted to be a father, giving a blowjob to a cabbie on he block he lives on with Ezra. What!? Who is that dumb? And Ezra is rightfully upset but Pam, the other lesbian, who hasn't said much for ninety minutes, tells him to forgive and forget because that's what you do when you're married. Oh, c'mon! Ezra, the one who is the least liberal of the bunch, who has some confusion and reservations about Henry's transition (because they've been friends since elementary school), must suffer for these things. His feelings do not exist. But then again, we don't get any context, we don't get Chris' side, and quite frankly, this opens up way too many ideas way too late in the play. It becomes a brand new play.
(I also could've lived forever without the adult babies.)
And of course the play ends on Election Day, 2016. Because we are not reminded of that clusterfuck every damn day of our lives. We had to relive it again. Was this Harrison's way of saying that whatever differences these people have, whatever privilege they may have or feel over one another, that they must come together and fight the next round of oppression they were surely about to face? That the fight is never over? That nobody should ever get too comfortable?
Okay, that's a very broad question.
After the first scene of Jordan Harrison's new play Log Cabin, during which the affluent gay characters gather in a fancy New York City apartment (that is no doubt owned, not rented) in 2012 to discuss getting married and...AIDS, I turned to my boyfriend and said, "yes, because gay people only talk about being gay."
And that's all of these characters, gay, trans, and straight, talk about. (Well, there's some shoehorned race discussions as well, because that's another hot button issue right now so why not?) We don't know much about them other than they're gay, or trans, or only date trans men. The only other info we get about them is that they are wealthy. Because of course they are. These are gay people who are no longer dying of AIDS, who can now get married, have children, be at least somewhat accepted by and have a place in society, and of course, have trust funds and be successful writers and work for Charles Schwab and own their apartments in New York City with rooftop gardens and bars. These people couldn't possibly want for anything more.
So maybe this is what Harrison is trying to say: that some gay (cis) men and women sort of forget where they came from, forget that people fought to get them a seat at the table, and there's still a bit farther to go, especially when Henry, the trans character, enters the action. Harrison shows that although you may have been oppressed, you can still have your privilege checked. So what it amounts to is a pissing contest. Who wins the title of "most oppressed?"
What Harrison writes isn't so much a play (there's no real character development or conflict, unless being something other than heterosexual is a conflict) but an essay entitled, "How the Lives of the LGBT Community Have Changed Since the AIDS Crisis, and How They Can Still Improve (With Ruminations on Race)." The characters talk as though they are lecturing each other. They have no personalities, no interests, nothing else to say to each other if it's not related to their sexualities!
And well, I think Harrison fails when it comes to race and gender. The lone black character, Chris, attempts to tell the others that even though he is a cis male, and may have privilege over trans men (and all women), he is still black. But the other characters don't seem to care or listen to him when he expresses his unhappiness with being lumped in with straight, white men. In Harrison's world, being born male and living as a male grants you power and privilege, regardless of race or sexuality. Even when Ezra, Chris' husband who is cis and white, takes umbrage with being lumped into the same category of privilege as straight men, he is told he's ridiculous and quickly silenced. This is irresponsible on the part of the playwright. Harrison had an agenda when writing this play. He decided that trans issues, undoubtedly another hot button issue, were going to be his main focus, and he was going to be on the side of his trans character no matter what, that the development of other interesting themes and ideas suffers. Harrison pays no actual mind to the two cis female characters, the lesbians, and what is means to female. I suspect it's because he has no idea, and no interest. I think they exist just to have a baby, which is really messed up. Women are more than just mothers, Jordan Harrison. (Although one of them, Jules, the one who did not carry the child, does sleep with Henry in her son's room while the baby is sleeping, while her wife is mere feet away. Because you know, trans men are so irresistible. The fact that she is only doing this because of the novelty of it is never explored, and even though it's clear her wife knows about this dalliance, she forgives her because that's what straight people have done for centuries.) And once again, although there is very short discussions about misogyny in the trans community, and what is means to be psychologically male, it doesn't go anywhere.
Jules' infidelity isn't even the most ridiculous of plot points. Henry has a cis female girlfriend, Myna, who is a millennial, but only exists to be hysterical and ridiculous (as women are prone to be, right?). And yet, she brings up another theme that should be explored but of course, it isn't. She's a cis, straight woman so she really doesn't matter here (even after she overhears her boyfriend cheating on her from the next room) but she is the only one here that checks the others on their financial privilege. She makes a point about the way they and their generation consume things, people, but like Chris' concerns about race, they go unexplored and remain undeveloped. We never seen Myna after her one brief scene. Why bring up class issues if you're not going to do anything with them? It's like Harrison was just ticking off the boxes of hot button issues. Less is more, especially when you're not going to develop things.
When the play tries to have some sense of plot, it's a bit of mess that is, once again, not developed. Chris and Ezra decide to have a child of their own, and want Henry to carry him or her. After some minimal hemming and hawing about wanting to be seen only as a man, and not wanting to undo everything he has become after years of struggling to be seen and present only as a man, Henry agrees to stop taking testosterone and get pregnant (I guess because it'll be with Chris' sperm, not Ezra's? Who the hell knows?) And then, when Henry is about six or seven months pregnant, we get some 11 o'clock exposition (and a new plot point!) that involves Chris, the one who really, really wanted to be a father, giving a blowjob to a cabbie on he block he lives on with Ezra. What!? Who is that dumb? And Ezra is rightfully upset but Pam, the other lesbian, who hasn't said much for ninety minutes, tells him to forgive and forget because that's what you do when you're married. Oh, c'mon! Ezra, the one who is the least liberal of the bunch, who has some confusion and reservations about Henry's transition (because they've been friends since elementary school), must suffer for these things. His feelings do not exist. But then again, we don't get any context, we don't get Chris' side, and quite frankly, this opens up way too many ideas way too late in the play. It becomes a brand new play.
(I also could've lived forever without the adult babies.)
And of course the play ends on Election Day, 2016. Because we are not reminded of that clusterfuck every damn day of our lives. We had to relive it again. Was this Harrison's way of saying that whatever differences these people have, whatever privilege they may have or feel over one another, that they must come together and fight the next round of oppression they were surely about to face? That the fight is never over? That nobody should ever get too comfortable?
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