The 19th annual Plays by Young Writers 2003 is, in some ways, leaner and meaner than in the past. Due to budgetary constraints, only two plays were fully produced, of the 282 submitted. And, from the REALLY young set, there are four readings (all directed by Robert Dahey) by writers age 10-13. Very impressive all around.
On opening night, it was a full house in the lovely theater at the Bishop's School in La Jolla. Excitement was high, since one of the playwrights (Brandon Alter) is the grandson of arts patron/collector and SD Opera Board Chair Iris Strauss. Her guests included Irwin Jacobs and others. Alter's piece was last, and because of its theme and intensity (and his writing acumen) it overshadowed the other two plays. But they were also wonderful, serious (and sometimes comic) theatrical endeavors.
The reading came first (there's one per performance). That night, it was "Madeline Learns to Fly," by 10 year-old Taylor Renteria. A delightful fable about leaving the nest and learning to fly (literally as well as figuratively), the title character is a fledgling robin, adorably and engagingly played by Julia Kelleher. The play shows how sometimes necessity is as good as formal education for growing up fast and acquiring new skills. The play is short, sweet -- and remarkable to have come from the pen of one so young.
"How They See It," written by 16 year-old Tyler Moselle, concerns three kids' reactions to their classmate's kidnapping disappearance. Supposedly second or third graders, these children are getting little information and guidance from their (silhouetted, barely present) parents, and they try to figure out and come to grips with the crisis on their own. It's a wonderful idea that still needs some fleshing out; there isn't really an arc to the story, and it trails off at the end. But it's a valiant and courageous effort, by a young writer with real promise. The direction, by Linda Libby, gives a lot of stage business to the three school kids (obviously much older than the characters they play) and all the wriggling movement proves to be a distraction. But there were moments of magic when it all clicked.
That was true of just about every moment in Brandon Alter's "Forty Miles from Tel Aviv." The play is amazing. Here's an 18 year-old Jewish San Diegan trying to get into the head of a Palestinian suicide bomber, to find out what makes him tick -- and so ticked off. A great deal of research went into the fictional concoction; I spoke to one of the Palestinian consultants at the reception, and he thought the result really rang true. I thought it was astonishing that such a young person would have so much insight into love, marriage, anguish, hopelessness and the workings of the human heart.
Malik is a student of law in the West Bank who's run out of time, money and hope. His wife, Salah, watches over the household, the children, the dwindling budget and larder, and manages to find the joy to go on, and even to dance. When the play opens, she's so happy her husband has the day off, the children are at school, and they have a large chunk of time alone together. A whole day. And then, a phone call comes, and everything begins to unravel.
Maybe we never know our mates; we barely even know ourselves. And what is the price of self-respect? How much is one willing to give up? To pay? These are heady questions, poetically posed, wrapped up in a loving, sensual relationship. Delicia Turner Sonnenberg has more choreographed than directed; every move is evocative of the Middle East's push-pull of faith and despair. Anahid Shahrik is incandescent as the adoring wife who will do just about anything for her handsome husband. Just about. And Diep Huynh (left) does his very best work in this multi-faceted character -- tender, doting husband/father; desperate, doomed warrior. Needs clash with desires. Family love is pitted against cultural conflict. The language is beautiful, the production stunning, with a magnificent earth-toned, sun-bleached set, suggestive sand-blocks and pillars, all redolent of better, brighter times.
There are no heroes and villains here. There is no condemnation or exoneration. Alter is more interested in exploring the questions than providing answers. But by putting a human face on the 'monstrous enemy,' he allows us all to experience empathy. And maybe that is the first baby step toward peace.
I think this play should be toured to all the Jewish Centers and temples in San Diego (and beyond). I think it should have wide exposure, to young people and old, those set in their ways and those open to new ideas. Contemplating the skill that went into it, and the story it tells, will almost certainly make you weep. It did me.
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