Tag Archives: Theater

True West Explores the Strengths and Weaknesses of Brotherhood

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By Asmaa Mohamed

True West, a play by Sam Shepard showing at the Princeton Summer Theater, draws in audiences by portraying the reality of a dark, atypical relationship between two brothers. Heavily influenced by Shepard’s life story, the play explores how addiction can destroy a family, framing it as a genetic trait that cannot be escaped. This cycle is hammered into the plot. 

The complex dynamic between brothers Austin and Lee is fueled by jealousy. One brother, Austin, has an Ivy League degree and a big job as a screenwriter; the other, Lee, is struggling with homelessness and lives in the desert. Their tense dynamic is shown by how the brothers react to one another. An envious Lee becomes triggered by Austin’s success and begins to show abusive tendencies. Yet the play is unique in how it depicts the brothers as having a relationship that cannot be understood by others. They have their own little bubble — even if it’s rough, it’s what their comfort space is. 

By focusing on the dynamic between Austin and Lee, True West is subverting the stereotype of the typical suburban American family. Shepard does this by showing what it’s like to see the brothers behind closed doors and how they act towards one another within the safety of their home.

Notably, the events of the play take place in Austin and Lee’s childhood home, playing on the audience’s expectations of comfort and nostalgia. The dim lighting in the house creates an eerie and unsettling mood. The music parallels the evolution of the brothers’ dynamic. It’s quiet and settled in the beginning, then progresses into sharp, loud and tense sounds when the brothers are arguing or yelling. 

In a talkback, Princeton professor R.N. Sandberg told the audience that Austin’s car (which Lee keeps borrowing without permission) is symbolic of the freedom that both characters are chasing. They ultimately don’t experience that freedom, since Austin eventually kills Lee. When Lee comes back and the pair begin fighting, we don’t know if it’s actually Lee, his ghost or Austin’s coping mechanism after he strangled his brother. It’s a losing fight that they are both stuck in, like staring into your reflection and wanting to be that version of yourself that’s just out of reach.

For me, the play expressed the real, raw experience of what it’s like to have a sibling. It’s beautiful to have the possibility of friendship, but it’s hard to grow up with them, too — especially because mental illness, trauma and addiction can make that sibling bond either grow stronger or break. Yet the play missed an opportunity to go deeper. While it hints at the brothers’ trauma because of their father, the beginning of their lives is not shown. Nor does it include much about their father. While Shepard’s goal is to capture the tense bond of the brothers, the play fails to fully depict to the audience why they are the way they are. 

True West: A Burden on Stage

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By Ariana Estrada

The play True West, by playwright Sam Shepard, is situated twenty miles from Los Angeles and San Gabriel, California. In it, brothers Austin (Jordan Rashdan) and Lee (Joseph McLean) are trying to navigate who they are while caught between alcoholism and a bad family dynamic. Yet this play goes beyond the two brothers, hinting at the idea that there are multiple identities hidden within us. The play is driven by humorous lines and the characters exhibiting emotional switches when exploring their identities; but suffers by promoting the unrealistic idea that every household needs a woman to maintain the home.

The Princeton Summer Theater’s production of True West, directed by Wasif Sami, begins with Austin typing on his typewriter in a room filled with yellow, dimmed lighting. Suddenly Lee bursts into the kitchen after coming back from his home in the desert, causing a commotion. He grabs a beer from the fridge and makes himself at home. This distracts Austin from the script he is writing, and Lee scares Austin into writing a Wild West script for him after throwing beer cans across the kitchen and screaming in Austin’s face. As Lee bangs on counters and backs his brother into a corner, the audience becomes similarly fearful, practically jumping out of their sets. Lee creates a sense of suspense about what is going to happen next — will he act with his anger and become violent? 

Later, the brothers create a mess, spreading papers all over the floor, spilling beer and scattering cans all around the kitchen. According to the director, the mess in the kitchen was meant to represent a home without a mother present. However, not every household has a mother, and many parents do not raise irresponsible men. The irresponsibility is not because households do not have a woman present, but rather because of the incapabilities of some parents who raise kids. Shepard was raised in an unstable household and struggled with alcoholism, the same as his father. Shepard’s mother and father were present in his childhood and he still went down a difficult path. Whether or not you have certain parents in your life, it is unrealistic to blame them for your actions. I believe that the director should have recontextualized the play in order to accommodate modern times and realities. 

As the play continues, the brothers switch their goals. Lee is attempting to create a Western script while Austin wants to explore the desert, steals toasters and operates chaotically. It fits in with the constant theme of the brothers attempting to conquer each other’s lives. The actors embody Shepard’s play by successfully etching self-identity as a deeper theme of the play. Yet the ideas behind the set, and ideas of household as espoused by the director, are outdated and could be offensive to viewers.

Beyond history, ‘Hamilton’ offers lesson in dangers of ambition

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By Raho Faraha

San Jose, CA

You have married an Icarus,” sings Phillipa Soo broken-heartedly in the hit Broadway musical ‘Hamilton.’ Soo plays Alexander Hamilton’s wife, Eliza, who is devastated after finding out her husband had an affair with another woman. She continues:  “He has flown too close to the sun.”

This show is known for using an unconventional medium—musical theater—to teach history, and also for exclusively casting people of color to play America’s white founding fathers. But ‘Hamilton’ is also a lesson on the danger of ambition mixed with arrogance.

In the musical, Hamilton is portrayed as a highly-intelligent, headstrong, and ambitious character at the forefront of America’s birth. His ambition was fueled by a need to escape his penniless past in the Caribbean. To join New England’s elite faction, Hamilton becomes a major general in the Revolutionary War and marries Eliza Schuyler, the daughter of a decorated war hero. Over the course of his life, his drive turns him into a power-hungry politician who becomes Secretary of the Treasury. But he still wants more.

His arrogant and overly sensitive nature stem from a place of immense insecurity. But ambition can only hide deep-seated insecurities for so long. 

Icarus fell from grace when he ignored his father’s warnings, while Hamilton fell from grace when he published the Reynolds Pamphlet, needlessly exposing the intricate details of his affair and ensuing extortion. Both Icarus and Hamilton allowed their ambition to get the better of them. Ambition can be an asset, but these stories should serve as a warning: Don’t fly too close to the sun.

‘Waltz’ is a tale of love and tenderness

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By Nicole Chow

New York, NY

Anxious breathing in the waiting room. A monologue uncovering emotions. Quaky legs locked in nervousness. This is how the character Anna opens Princeton Summer Theater’s production of ‘The Baltimore Waltz,’ a play by Paula Vogel.

Anna is waiting for the diagnosis of her brother, who has AIDS. Vogel, whose brother died of AIDS, based the play on real life events. But in a twist, Anna and Carl switch perspectives in the play. Anna becomes the one who’s contracted a strange illness—ATD: Acquired Toilet Disease—which she supposedly caught from using a public bathroom while teaching in a elementary school.

The two characters go on an adventure around Europe, where Anna goes on a sexual spree. This sexual desire comes from one of the stages of coping with the acknowledgement of your own death—lust. The first night they arrive in Paris, Anna starts to face these stages. At one point, she begins to fantasize about the idea of death, standing in the middle of the stage with gloomy light and a soft presence. “This is how I’d like to die, with dignity,” she said.

The play was marvelously performed by Abby Melick, Sean Peter Drohan and Evan Gedrich. From the acting to the technical elements like lighting, sound and stage design, the play was impeccable in every sense. Sure, there were stutters, maybe a couple, but the level of professionalism and meticulous movement was impressive. I was sitting dead center, seat 105, and let me tell you, it was the best seat in the house. From that point of view, I was in the middle of it all. I was the dream the characters looked up to, the audience they spoke with. Every placement and movement of each actor was strategic and poetic. The lights and the colors illuminated the stage as so that it illustrated the mind of the characters. The music served to set the time and feeling, the unimaginable beat of the moment. Whenever two characters stood in center stage, the beautiful imagery would remind me how important angles are in a story, both physical and mental.

There are symbols in this play, most prominently stuffed bunnies, one of which Carl seems too attached to. Carl and another character smuggle bunnies here and there, hiding something inside of each—not quite drugs, but meaning. But what are they trying to keep and hold so dearly on to? Is it life and hope? Drugs? Health? A cure?

Running into the hospital room, jumping into the bed and screaming for help, Anna begins to end the play, revealing that everything that took place after her and her brother switched perspectives isn’t part of the real world; it relied on Anna’s mind and her fantasies.

The play ends with Anna and Carl dancing a waltz, him in a suit and her in the only piece of clothing she’s been wearing throughout the whole story—swift and energetic moves, parallel to the way they lived, yet so full of love and tenderness.