Going With Her Gut Instincts
Tuesday, November 22, 2005
Dramatist Quiara Alegria Hudes faces more than a blank page when she begins a new work. She confronts a f ormless void.
"In a world where it's kind of easy to veer towards the center and get lukewarm, I have to constantly remind myself to . . . almost reinvent the wheel with every new play," says Hudes, whose "Yemaya's Belly" runs at Signature Theatre in Arlington through Dec. 18.
"I don't like to approach plays with a predetermined structure in mind of what a well-made play is. I like each play to kind of teach me how it needs to be staged, how it needs to be structured," says Hudes, a former student of Pulitzer Prize-winning playwright Paula Vogel ("How I Learned to Drive") at Brown University.
For "Yemaya's Belly," a mythic coming-of-age fable about an orphaned boy, Jesus, who journeys to America from a poor Caribbean island, Hudes wove in strands of magic realism and the Afro-Cuban religion Santeria. (Yemaya is the Yoruba queen of the oceans.) There are heightened "ritual" moments in the script designed to stop time as the characters experience magical epiphanies.
"It's one moment in one person's life and they will never be the same again," Hudes says. For example, the whiff of a feather plucked from a dancer's costume begins the boy's sexual awakening; a cold Coke sparks his yearning for America. "There are people who just kind of stay, and that is their life . . . and then there are people who are journeyers," the playwright says.
The 28-year-old West Philadelphian (now living in New York with her law student husband) drew inspiration for "Yemaya's Belly" from the early life of her stepfather, who described for her the delight he experienced, coming from a poor village in Puerto Rico, the first time he sipped a cold Coca-Cola.
Hudes likes to mix up her sources, though: The island in the play is more like Cuba than Puerto Rico, and Jesus's dangerous trip comes from stories told to her by a boy she knew in kindergarten about leaving Vietnam by boat in 1982.
"Somehow that story kind of came out in this as well as my trying to tell the story of my stepfather, of him starting out in the town . . . with no electricity and ending up a successful businessman in Philadelphia," Hudes says.
"I got this grant and I thought, oh no, now I have to write the play," Jacqueline Reingold says of "String Fever," her meditation on love, life and quantum physics, running through Sunday at Theater J.
She says she actually woke up one night having dreamed her proposal for a grant to write a play having "something to do with science and technology." Her dream idea was a play whose structure "would reflect this theory of physics called string theory. And I had no idea what string theory was. . . . I must've heard about it on the radio or in the paper."
So she read and reread a popular book, Brian Greene's "The Elegant Universe," explaining the still-evolving concept of basic matter as vibrating strings existing in 10 dimensions. The book was the big bang that brought "String Fever" from pillow to page.
"I had never read any physics, ever, and I started to become really personally excited about it. I couldn't believe that's how the world works," Reingold says. That gave her the play's main character, a fortyish, single music teacher, pining for an emotionally unstable former lover, worrying about her ailing dad and corresponding with two friends with their own alternately comic and tragic troubles. Her life is a mass of fraying strands when she meets a physicist and falls as much for his string theory as for him.