There are very few Directors who I will let fuck with my head and still have me coming back for more. Joshua Gelb has the distinct honor of being placed on this short list. Josh is a fellow grad student here at CMU in the MFA Directing program and so I have had the great honor and getting to know him (though just barely) the past two years. I have literally just walked out of a performance of Lulu, a play by Frank Wedekind that Josh directed, and felt compelled to share its excellence.
Walking away from a Gelbian production, you can't help but be startled by the intense visual imagery that has ingrained itself into your head. My first introduction to Josh's work was a one-act he directed our first year in which a table was turned on it's end and the actors stacked themselves around the table giving the illusion of a "bird's-eye-view" of the scene. Now, I prefer wit to farce. Humor that has earned its laugh through intelligence is deserved humor. Similarly, I prefer carefully arrived upon images to stage pictures. In other words, there is something perfect for me when seemingly unconnected visuals on stage converge into meaning in a single moment of ecstasy. I find this the visual equivalent of wit. In Lulu, these table turning moments are numerous, and I resist sharing the specifics until after the show has closed. Even then they are something that I think can only be experienced. Needless to say they involve a lot of blood and mattresses.
I say this not only to boost Josh's ego, but to share a passion for a style of theatre that those of you who know me may not expect. Yes, while I may enjoy working on extremely energetic musicals with characters from my favorite video games, I equally enjoy what I will call the darker side of theater in that it forces you to offer opinions and share experiences with your fellow audience members whether you want to or not. This summer, Josh directed a workshop of a new piece in development titled Sometimes in Prague, which through song and the interaction of live actors with projected versions of themselves, shared with us the stories of a group of friends traveling in Prague looking for the true meaning and intent of "love".
The most poignant moment of the experience (for me), was when a single actor crossed downstage center with a mic and asked the audience to close their eyes. In this darkness we were asked to physically share our sins, our triumphs, and our love by raising your hand in response to direct questions. Although your eyes were shut, the audience became so emotionally connected that you could literally feel the energy in the room after a question like "How many of you have knowingly deceived a lover?" was asked. While there were initially some giggles to the line of questioning, they quickly became almost depressingly compelling in their insistence that you examine your own existence.
Coming towards the end of the show, these questions caused disturbing amounts of reflection to take place amongst the audience and I am still shaken by the experience. Lulu ends much more literally in darkness, and there was a brilliant pause at the end of the show where the audience was left sitting in complete darkness, unaware if the play is over or not. Generally, as soon as a blackout occurs we are all familiar with the audience bounding to their feet in applause, often disallowing themselves the opportunity for reflection on what they have just witnessed. The unease amongst the audience was palpable, just as it was in Sometimes in Prague. Although this pause was probably only about 5 seconds, in theatre time that is an eternity.
I can't say enough about the brilliance in the direction and production design for this show and it humbles me to call these artistic team members my friends and colleagues. Congratulations, and damn you, for making me think.
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