September 2007

Dear Subscriber:

WELCOME TO THE NEXT 40 YEARS of celebrating the joys of exceptional live theatre with The Rep. We are thrilled to be launching our 41st season of producing the highest caliber of stage work and are so pleased that you are joining us. Whether you are returning for your 41st year as well or are taking your seat for the first time, we are grateful for your support and look forward to dreaming big dreams with you in our Mainstage, Studio and Off-Ramp series. And we are so very pleased to have been highly honored at the Kevin Kline Awards this past spring with 18 awards for our work covering all of our stages. That meant a lot to all of us. 

WHAT FINER WAY TO LAUNCH a season and a school year than with an up-close look inside the classroom? We are extremely proud to be the first regional theatre in the country to produce Alan Bennett’s critically acclaimed The History Boys, a spotlight on the nature and nuances of education, tracking the efforts of eight working-class young men to gain admission to Oxford and Cambridge. With 30 major awards, including Tony, Drama Desk, Olivier, Outer Critics Circle and NY Drama Critics Circle Awards for Best Play, this poignant yet funny piece pits passion against panache and facts against finesse as two pedagogically opposed teachers prepare their students for entrance examinations and effectively, the rest of their lives.

AS THE PLAY TAKES place in a British school, a small bit of explanation about their system is in order. The boys are in a grammar school—it’s hard to describe a complete equivalent here—similar to a private school, but not as exclusive. The government has subsidized their tuition and will continue to do so at university. When we meet them, the boys have effectively finished their—in our terms—high school education. At the end of their sixth term they take their A-Level (short for “Advanced Level") exams, which is a General Certificate of Education qualification and is often a de facto university entrance examination. In the case of our story—the eight of them from this particular school did extremely well, all placing very high in the exam statistics. So they are now all eligible to go to the finest schools in the land, but that will depend upon their entrance exams and interviews. And so, the students return to the grammar school for a seventh term to sharpen their skills so that they can get into the fancy schools—or in British jargon: the ancient schools—in our case, Oxford or Cambridge—called Oxbridge.

THESE BOYS ARE THE BRIGHTEST class the school has ever produced. This group of eight fantastically arrogant, intellectually precocious kids are all trying to get into Oxford and Cambridge. The headmaster has little regard for the boys’ education or futures but is desperate to improve his own career by raising the school’s standing in the all important league tables with multiple placements at top tier institutions. He sees this year’s class of boys as his most promising opportunity and is willing to do whatever is necessary to ensure success. Alan Bennett puts it like this: 

These boys are not particularly privileged boys. This is a state Grammar School. They have been told often that Oxford and Cambridge is the Holy Grail. So they’ve accepted it almost unthinkingly. They’ve been set a target and because it’s a target, they are desperate to achieve it.

But they aren’t the kind of kids who feel it’s their birthright to go onto one of the two ancient universities and to lead a life of privilege.

They got their A-Level results in the middle of the summer holidays and now they are coming back to school at the start of the fall term.  This is a seventh term after A-Levels which was to polish the students up for the Oxbridge entrance exams; the seventh term was in fact abolished in the mid-1980s. This is one of the reasons the show is set in the early-’80s.

The other reason it is set then is because it was the final battleground between Hector’s romantic idealistic view of education and the much more utilitarian target-driven view represented by the headmaster. The headmaster won.

DESPITE THE ACADEMIC ADVANCEMENT that the British system may afford, Bennett’s boys are still just boys, wading through the rigors of youth, perhaps more articulately than their American peers, but with equal self-doubt and foolhardiness. Around 18 years old, they come from various backgrounds, ranging from Scripps who is deeply religious, to Lockwood who loves movies, to Akthar who is Muslim—each boy an individual, but unmistakably canny and very smart, collectively. Dakin, one of the savviest of the group and a long-time favorite of Hector’s, is a most intriguing character. Accustomed to being irresistible, he uses his charm and intellect to win in every situation he enters into. These boys are full of the mischief and fun that is part of adolescence and speak with abandon, using strong language every so often, as do the teachers. And whether by choice or chance, the primary guide ropes in their lives are their “inspired” but “unquantifiable” English teacher, Hector; Dorothy Lintott, their unflappable history teacher and Irwin, a young contract teacher hired by the headmaster in hopes of “grooming” them sufficiently to garner admission, or even better, scholarships at Oxbridge. Adding to his eccentricity, Hector rides to school on his motorbike. You can just imagine him cruising the streets of Sheffield, helmet on his head, clad in a leather jacket—sort of a latter day “Easy Rider.” He often gives rides to his older students and has been known to touch them inappropriately while they are on pillion duty (riding behind him). How effective this can be is doubtful, especially when you think of a fast-moving motorcycle and trying to maintain balance. The boys all accept it as a harmless quirk of Hector’s and pay it almost no mind. Nevertheless, this is not appropriate activity at all and when the headmaster gets wind of this, sparks do fly. Irwin is not immune from controversy either, as Dakin identifies him as a personal challenge, mainly because Irwin keeps needling Dakin about his classwork, pushing him to invert arguments and upend traditional thinking. Deciding to test this theory on a larger scale, Dakin propositions Irwin, mainly because he can, and he has to find a way to be the winner in every competition. It is awkward, youthful, surprising and fascinating.

HECTOR, WHO HAS TRAINED his pupils to recite Housman, Auden and Larkin by heart, as well as to sing Gracie Fields tunes and hone their French in mock bordello scenes, is horrified by Irwin’s style of commercialized education. When one of his students protests that he doesn’t understand a poem, Hector counters: “...learn it [poetry] now, know it now and you’ll understand it whenever...And then you will have the antidote ready! Grief. Happiness. Even when you’re dying.” Hector views education not as a pragmatic means to an end but as an end unto itself, a balm for existence. His hope for these young men is that they will, “Take it, feel it and pass it on.” He has invested years in equipping the boys with cultural first aid kits of verse and song and consequently, strongly resists both Irwin’s presence and his results-driven program of linguistic acrobatics and antagonistic argument. “The wrong end of the stick is the right one. A question has a front door and a back door. Go in the back, or better still, the side...History nowadays is not a matter of conviction. It’s a performance. It’s entertainment. And if it isn’t, make it so.” This is Irwin’s mandate to his new charges, and though they initially balk at his methods, most of them are soon practicing their new craft, even incorporating their previously sacred texts from Hector into their sleek new style of essays to add extra flair. Posner, a shy, late-developing boy is skilled at Irwin’s craft but appreciates the value of Hector’s literary salve in a way that none of the other boys do. However, Dakin becomes increasingly loyal to Irwin’s methods and the ideological rivalry peaks when the old and new mentors are forced to co-teach. The test preparation culminates in a mock oral exam conducted by Hector, Irwin and the “This is history not histrionics” Mrs. Lintott. The training pays off and weeks later, all of the boys have secured places at Oxbridge. The headmaster is thrilled.

AS NICHOLAS HYTNER, director of the original National Theatre production of the play, writes: “Closed worlds like schools...are fantastic, because they stand as a microcosm of a bigger world. You have a greater chance of finding universal truths if you focus truthfully and from experience on a small corner of the world.” The theories that Hector and Irwin espouse in the controlled environment of grammar school directly impact the people that Dakin and Posner become. Pragmatism squares off against “pass it on;” self-promotion overwhelms self-exploration. What is unclear is which, if either, method of contending with the world is preferable. One results in highly cultured self-imposed isolation, while the other ends in empty but abundant material success. The balance between the two may lie in Irwin’s later observation: “It’s more than a game. Thinking about what might have happened alerts you to the consequences of what did.” Culture without pragmatic perspective is hobbled and powerless; history without personal reflection and connection is harsh and brutal. Hector pleads for a reprieve from this experiential stalemate in the final lines of the play: “Pass it on, boys. That’s the game I wanted you to learn. Pass it on.”

IT IS MY JOY TO DIRECT A FACULTY of returning Rep favorites: Thomas Carson (Hector), Anderson Matthews (Headmaster) and Carolyn Swift (Mrs. Lintott), along with new friend Bryant Richards (Irwin). The desks are filled by eager students Adam Farabee (Timms), Eric Gilde (Dakin), Charles Sydney Hirsh (Lockwood), Matt Leisy (Scripps), Jonathan Monk (Posner), Bhavesh Patel (Akthar), Steven Pierce (Crowther) and Brian White (Rudge). Adrian W. Jones provides the set, with costumes by Elizabeth Covey and lighting from Marcus Doshi. As is the case with most of Mr. Bennett’s works, this is a play that asks a number of challenging questions and offers a handful of answers without fingering any one of them as exclusively correct. This makes for very compelling theatre and equally engaging discussions afterward. Those of you who saw the movie of The History Boys will be very surprised by the differences in the play. Alan Bennett has created a very theatrical kind of piece, in which the characters often speak directly to the audience, some scenes have songs in them and there is even a small dance routine. Bennett uses the forum to showcase his incredible writing skill while honoring stagecraft. The experience is remarkable.

WE OPEN OUR THIRD OFF-RAMP season with the riotously righteous Altar Boyz, a clever and affectionate musical take on a Bible-believing boy band of the same name. Matthew (The Leader), Mark (The Sensitive One), Luke (The Bad Boy), Juan (The Latin Lover) and Abraham (The Gefilte Fish Out of Water) are playing St. Louis for one night only (17 actually) on their “Raise the Praise” tour, and you don’t want to miss the show. With dance moves to make Justin Timberlake proud, a fully automated Soul Sensor to gauge the spiritual well-being of the audience and a “Confession Session” to lift the weight of your burden, this act is hotter than, well, you know. Stafford Arima, who directed ACE last season, reprises his directorial role from the original Off-Broadway production, along with choreographer Christopher Gattelli and scenic designer Anna Louizos. Alejo Vietti costumes these pop star apostles while Ben Stanton and Tori Meyer bring the concert experience to life with lighting and sound design, respectively. Henry Palkes provides musical direction for soulful singers Michael Kadin Craig (Matthew), Adam Fleming (Luke), Mauricio Perez (Juan), Shua Potter (Mark) and Ravi Roth (Abraham). Playful, not preachy, this piece is fun for everyone and a great opportunity to bring the young adults in your circle of family and friends to this exciting venue.

THE SEASON BEGINS with two plays revolving around young men at crucial points in their lives: establishing character, exploring relationships, defining themselves and their approaches to life. Granted, the cast of one show routinely dons jackets and ties, while the other sports tank tops and baggy jeans. But the drive for success (however that may be defined) and the fact that they are still boys, still malleable, still able to remake and renew themselves, remains the same. So we welcome you to our two opening shows—Boys with an “s”: The History Boys and boys with a “z”: Altar Boyz. Both will entertain and exhilarate you.

See you at the theatre,

Steven Woolf
Artistic Director

NEW YORK REPORT: Many of you may remember our production of The Merry Wives of Windsor, Texas—a romp of a show with music by The Red Clay Ramblers. We opened our season with it 18 years ago. The authors have been working on the piece all this time and after several rewrites, it is now called Lone Star Love. I’m pleased to share with you the news that the show will open on Broadway on December 3rd at the Belasco Theatre. It stars Randy Quaid and Dee Hoty (who was in Book of Days for us and also appeared as Mame at the Muny a few years ago). Hopefully it will get a warm reception from the New York press.