May 14, 2008
Conversation with Edward Albee About
"Me, Myself and I" and His Other Work
Edward Albee
Lecturer in Theater and Dance, Princeton University
Minutes of the 32nd Meeting of the 66th Year
President Giordmaine called the 32nd meeting of the 66th year to order at 10:15 AM. The invocation was delivered by George Hansen, The minutes of the previous meeting were read by Charles Rojer. About 110 members attended.
We are indebted to Scott McVay for last week’s lively hour spent with the playwright, Edward Albee. Scott invited and introduced our speaker, then moderated the session, which was devoted entirely to questions from Old Guard members and Mr. Albee’s responses. Scott observed that the only record of another Old Guard session consisting solely of questions and answers is from 1944, when Albert Einstein appeared before our group. Mr. Albee appeared gratified by the connection.
Rather than try to repeat the 20 odd questions and answers, I have combined Mr. Albee’s comments to several questions that evoked related responses. I hope I’ve been faithful to your questions and his answers.
I should also note that our speaker occasionally used artistic license in responding to the question he wanted to answer, rather than the one that was asked.
A topic that wove through several questions and answers was how the audience responds, or should respond to serious drama. In speaking to a specific question about his latest play, Me, Myself, and I, Mr. Albee said, “We, (authors and audiences) should spend our lives trying to find out who we are, what are our values.” He urged that all art should be useful, not simply entertaining but transformative; that is, art should make demands on us, cause us to reflect and perhaps, to change our lives. So live theater should pose problems, present complexity, and even help us learn something important.
Mr. Albee had several pungent observations on the roles of those who commission plays, and the critics who review them. He explained the practice of “workshopping,” in which a young playwright reads his new work to a committee of potential sponsors and producers, who typically respond by saying, “We like your play, but; it’s a little too long, too complex, too depressing. “ The committee then “suggests” changes that will make the work easier to understand and more commercially successful.
Mr. Albee recommends two possible responses by a young playwright to those demands for revisions: a single word, No,” or two words which may not be appropriate for the Old Guard records. But practically, playwrights must eat, so they often regress to mediocrity by acceding to potential sponsors’ demands.
When asked about the success of his play, “Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf,” he gave much of the credit to the stupidity of his critics. One New York reviewer wrote, “Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf should only be seen by dirty minded women.” Mr. Albee believed that review added six months to the play’s run.
Several of our speaker’s responses focused on teaching and education, his own and others. He received a strong education in his elementary and secondary schools, and was powerfully attracted to the arts. His preference was music, but he couldn’t learn to read notes. He next tried poetry; the only two journals that accepted his poems promptly ceased publication. So, at age 28, he was driven to writing plays, and his first major effort, Zoo Story, was a success. But he insists that play writing involves several sister arts: visualization, as the writer mentally depicts the action on stage, and composing, that is, balancing sound and silence, a technique he finds especially well done in Samuel Beckett’s works.
Albee tells his current Princeton class of would-be playwrights to read enormously; “Read masterpieces, but also read junk. You can learn from the one and be encouraged by the other.” Young writers should have the courage to “fail better,” that is, to venture beyond what they are comfortable doing.
The last question was, “Why do you write?” Mr. Albee responded, “I don’t write didactically, I don’t write about or advocate ‘issues.’ I write to encourage self examination and an understanding of others. I hold up a mirror; do what you like with what you see.”
Respectfully submitted,
James R. Deneen
We are indebted to Scott McVay for last week’s lively hour spent with the playwright, Edward Albee. Scott invited and introduced our speaker, then moderated the session, which was devoted entirely to questions from Old Guard members and Mr. Albee’s responses. Scott observed that the only record of another Old Guard session consisting solely of questions and answers is from 1944, when Albert Einstein appeared before our group. Mr. Albee appeared gratified by the connection.
Rather than try to repeat the 20 odd questions and answers, I have combined Mr. Albee’s comments to several questions that evoked related responses. I hope I’ve been faithful to your questions and his answers.
I should also note that our speaker occasionally used artistic license in responding to the question he wanted to answer, rather than the one that was asked.
A topic that wove through several questions and answers was how the audience responds, or should respond to serious drama. In speaking to a specific question about his latest play, Me, Myself, and I, Mr. Albee said, “We, (authors and audiences) should spend our lives trying to find out who we are, what are our values.” He urged that all art should be useful, not simply entertaining but transformative; that is, art should make demands on us, cause us to reflect and perhaps, to change our lives. So live theater should pose problems, present complexity, and even help us learn something important.
Mr. Albee had several pungent observations on the roles of those who commission plays, and the critics who review them. He explained the practice of “workshopping,” in which a young playwright reads his new work to a committee of potential sponsors and producers, who typically respond by saying, “We like your play, but; it’s a little too long, too complex, too depressing. “ The committee then “suggests” changes that will make the work easier to understand and more commercially successful.
Mr. Albee recommends two possible responses by a young playwright to those demands for revisions: a single word, No,” or two words which may not be appropriate for the Old Guard records. But practically, playwrights must eat, so they often regress to mediocrity by acceding to potential sponsors’ demands.
When asked about the success of his play, “Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf,” he gave much of the credit to the stupidity of his critics. One New York reviewer wrote, “Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf should only be seen by dirty minded women.” Mr. Albee believed that review added six months to the play’s run.
Several of our speaker’s responses focused on teaching and education, his own and others. He received a strong education in his elementary and secondary schools, and was powerfully attracted to the arts. His preference was music, but he couldn’t learn to read notes. He next tried poetry; the only two journals that accepted his poems promptly ceased publication. So, at age 28, he was driven to writing plays, and his first major effort, Zoo Story, was a success. But he insists that play writing involves several sister arts: visualization, as the writer mentally depicts the action on stage, and composing, that is, balancing sound and silence, a technique he finds especially well done in Samuel Beckett’s works.
Albee tells his current Princeton class of would-be playwrights to read enormously; “Read masterpieces, but also read junk. You can learn from the one and be encouraged by the other.” Young writers should have the courage to “fail better,” that is, to venture beyond what they are comfortable doing.
The last question was, “Why do you write?” Mr. Albee responded, “I don’t write didactically, I don’t write about or advocate ‘issues.’ I write to encourage self examination and an understanding of others. I hold up a mirror; do what you like with what you see.”
Respectfully submitted,
James R. Deneen