Performance Review

1969 Terminal 1996

The Open Theatre, perhaps more than any other experimental ensemble, encapsulated the turbulent, dynamic decade of the 1960s. Although it was politically engaged, the Open Theatre was never stridently polemical, and the ensemble avoided the theatrical excesses of many of its contemporaries: its members did not live communally; their work was spare, rigorous, and disciplined; and the traditional division of labor between playwright, director, and performer was generally observed. The group's work was indeed premised on the principle of creative collaboration, but a playwright invariably structured and enhanced the actors' improvisations, and Joseph Chaikin--the master teacher and directorial heart of the ensemble--was always present to condense, reduce, and imaginatively shape the work in progress.

As one fortunate enough to have seen most of the Open Theatre's public work, a special place in [End Page 363] my memory is reserved for the early productions of their piece on death and dying, Terminal. In the space of two years the group performed two different versions of the piece. Terminal was first performed in 1969 with a large acting ensemble. This version was less abstract and distilled than the version that emerged after the acting ensemble was reduced by Chaikin from fourteen to six in late 1970. Terminal was the only piece carried over into the reconfigured group and became part of their late repertoire (along with The Mutation Show and Nightwalk). The early large ensemble Terminal had a tripartite structure ("The Dance on the Graves of the Dead," "The Pregnant Dying," "The State of the Dying") which was essentially held but simplified and modified in the later version. The greatest difference between versions was that the early Terminal evoked an abstract but specific sense of place: a terminal ward in an impersonal institution inhabited by a dense gathering of the dying. In the small group version, with its concomitant increase in character transformations, the ward sometimes was evoked (particularly in the "New Arrival" sequence), but essentially the performance space became metaphysical, at once inside and outside of place and time, a magic circle where the dead are summoned by the dying--who are, of course, all of us.

Twenty-seven years after its inception, twentythree years after its demise, Terminal was resummoned to performance by several of its originators. The new incarnation that was presented at P.S. 122 in 1996 was based on the later small group version and included three of the performers who had appeared in both earlier versions: Shami Chaikin, Tina Shepard, and Paul Zimet. The revised text was by the original playwright, Susan Yankowitz, and Joseph Chaikin again directed. The resummoning was extremely successful, a living demonstration of the best American work in the "poor theatre" tradition, a form of ensemble experiment rarely seen these days. As before, there were no video screens, no elaborate lighting, few props, a few modular pieces which were reconfigured to meet all scenic needs. Although Ellen Maddow again served as composer and musician, essentially the music was again produced by the actors themselves with simple instruments, particularly through the percussive clash of sticks that also served as divining rods. [End Page 364]

Revival is the production's operative word. To live again--this was and is Terminal's essential theme. Despite its subject matter, the piece is never morbid, depressing, or sentimental. It is a lyrical meditation on death and the way we avoid facing it. Rather than succumbing to fatalism, the vignettes, incantations, and evocations that comprise the work celebrate the ability to mourn. Insofar as the piece moves us to face what we would avoid, it is much more congruent with its era's activism than it initially seems.

The major change in the new Terminal derives from the pairing of the three original performers (who sustain their impressive performances, including Paul Zimet's miraculous possession by Marie Leveau) with a trio of new young performers. First of all, this creates a heightened awareness of aging that did not exist in the earlier versions, in which all the performers were young. Secondly, whereas the 1970 small ensemble had been all white, (there was one black member of the earlier large cast), two of the new young performers--one-third of the ensemble--are not: Nkenge Scott is African American and Hyun Yup Lee is Asian. These two new performers have contributed greatly to the piece's revitalization: Scott primarily by virtue of her compelling physical presence and African dance training which enhance the work's gestural and ritualistic beauty; Hyun most memorably in a striking monologue about the similar lines on his and his grandmother's hands which movingly evokes generational continuity. But, in a larger sense, the wider racial inclusion is absolutely appropriate for a work whose theme is the universality of death's visitation. We can see this now even if we didn't see it then.

There are other emendations and updatings: the "New Arrival" sequence is now pointedly framed with references to medical insurance; AIDS makes its inevitable appearance; the impending millenium is evoked as a historical marker; the references to soldiers and violence now carry resonances beyond Vietnam. But the essence of the work remains as pure and powerful as ever. It summons forth memorably--and nostalgically--an era when you didn't just go to see a new experimental work: it was looking for you.

Gerald Rabkin
Rutgers University

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