Comments on: The Morning After

By: Rodrick Williams

Rodrick Williams — Wed, 21 Jul 2010 17:03:30 +0000

I wish I could have seen the play. the clips on youtube look very interesting

By: Dries Desmet

Dries Desmet — Thu, 10 Dec 2009 18:52:15 +0000

I like the way Mister Pullman describes how it is like to be on stage. Particularly the part of not remembering lines but living them.
I play modern folk music and jazz. When performing, you have a moment where you are lifted from earth, you don’t remember where you are, you’re just busy playing music. You don’t remember the notes, you’re singing the melody in your head. It’s funny when you stop playing and you get applause. In an immediate way you’re back to reality. If you would ask me to repeat a piece exactly as I played it before, it would be impossible for me. I just can’t remember what I’ve played. Ofcourse I remember the melody, but I’ve forgotten all the variations and improvisations.It just comes at the moment. That’s for me the special thing of performing music or a play. In a way you are meditating or as Miss Stiles said “an exercise in Zen Buddhism.
P.S.: Sorry for the bad English

By: Grant MacGregor

Grant MacGregor — Sun, 05 Jul 2009 22:37:31 +0000

Dear Ms. Stiles,

My wife and I came to see you and Mr Pullman perform on Friday evening (the one where some rude fellow-patron exclaimed “Get over it !” midway through one of Carol’s diatribes).

We greatly enjoyed the energy of the performance. Your portrayals and performances were simply outstanding. I can’t help but feeling that this play must take a mental toll on both of you, but especially the actor interpreting the role of Carol. Frankly, I was glad of the hour drive home to decompress. I can not imagine what consistent performance of this over time does to the pysche of a person who commits fully in the role.

As a University Professor, I found myself cringing at the many faux pas’ the characters make. For better or worse, the era of political and social correctness is upon us. By the end of the play I felt deep remorse and empathy for both characters. The play really seemed like a modern day tragedy.

I wrote not only to applaud your respective performances, but to ask a question. What do you think it was that Carol was trying so desperately to tell her professor while sitting on the bench during act I when he was ‘saved’ ? by the bell of that infernal phone ?

Thank you again for an outstanding and memorable performance. My wife and I feel you are immensely talented and are unlikely ever to go hungry.

Sincerely,

Grant MacGregor

By: Van

Van — Sun, 05 Jul 2009 20:58:00 +0000

Your judgment of Carol seems fair. Although you don’t make this association explicitly, it’s perhaps unavoidable that “irksome” and “incredible honesty” are often linked. Honesty takes many different forms, from Lester Burnham in American Beauty and Tyler Durden in Fight Club to even Socrates. They were all incredibly honest in really different ways and clearly they all irked some people. As for the complicated, threatening female roles, those are unfortunately rare, but terrific ones that come to my mind are Glenn Close’s character in Dangerous Liaisons and Linda Fiorentino’s in The Last Seduction, which also had Bill Pullman as an excellent counterweight. In that company, it’s easy to look more favorably at Carol.

By: roger

roger — Sat, 04 Jul 2009 14:49:55 +0000

Assuming this won’t get published, this is to thank Julia for her performances over the years and a special appreciation of her in the first half of the decade. My late wife was battling cancer from April 1999 till November 11, 2001. I was taking care of her and my daughter during that time. “Down to You” came out in early 2000, and it was a nice escape for 90 minutes for me for its first couple weeks. Julia was new to me then, a real breath of fresh air in the character, and a cross between an old girlfriend and my teenage daughter. I became a fan.

When we got the tickets for Oleanna, I was excited. The play was well done, saying hi afterward was a special treat, and trying to find the right words for a “reply” here was a bit of a challenge. When I finally had, it was nice, till a few days later when it was removed. Julia’s written response was insightful, so it was a surprise to see that removed as well.

In any event, continued success to you, and I’ll leave this as my last “reply.” Best wishes and Happy 4th of July.

By: Donny

Donny — Fri, 03 Jul 2009 16:38:48 +0000

Saw Oleanna last night with three friends and all of us were very pleased that we saw the show before it closed.

If the definition of a successful show is the ability to enthrall an audience, pull them into the situation, make them emotional about it and give them the ability to make a judgement, then Oleanna is quite a success in my book. My friends and I spent some time talking about how we felt about it for a few hours after the play.

It is amazing that both of you can pull this off every single night. In certain points of the play, it is very intense and looks like both of you have to give your all to bring out the emotions of the scene.

On another note… we were all kind wondering… how does that chair not fall of the stage? Was that through a lot of practice?

We were all very impressed with the play. Congratulations

By: Julia

Julia — Mon, 29 Jun 2009 23:42:00 +0000

First, thank you so much, I am glad you and your wife enjoyed it.

I think women get very angry, maybe more so than men. I can only guess it’s because they feel misrepresented or misunderstood. I try not to think that I am getting up there to represent all women, but I guess the personal inevitably becomes political.

As for my attraction to the role, it might be more an attraction to the play overall. I think Bill said it best in a recent interview he did for the NY Times:

“I’m not the first one to say it, but that time onstage is a heightened sense of present tense,” Mr. Pullman said. “There’s a point you get to on the stage where you’re not remembering lines but living them, and you reach this pure moment which, really, is more intense than what you can achieve in life.”

Once the lights go up, the play really takes over. Not all plays have the power to sustain the actors interest for a long run, but I find every night is new and every night is deeper. Mamet’s dialogue also forces the actors to listen to each other, so you have to get out of your own head.

It certainly is challenging to play a character the audience openly dislikes, but I kind of love that. A lot of Mamet’s characters (I’m thinking of Richard Roma, in particular, from Glengarry Glenross) are unabashedly irksome to an audience, but also fascinating because they are incredibly honest. They aren’t hiding their flaws, and aren’t concerned with being popular. There are a few things I’ve come to like about Carol-she becomes shockingly direct and demands that kind of precision from her teacher. Even down to the last few lines, she has some cojones. Of course, she is incredibly flawed; at best she is irritating and self-righteous, at worst she is vindictive. That kind of layered, complicated, and threatening female character is incredibly rare.

By: JJ Gordon

JJ Gordon — Mon, 29 Jun 2009 22:34:34 +0000

I asked a question at the Sunday matinee After Show gathering, and I wondered what your perception is. Do woman seem to have a markedly different reaction to the play from men? If so, are they more or less supportive of Carol’s character?

Carol is definitely not a character I could warm up to, yet she is one you have decided to go back and play for a 2nd time. Just curious about what your take on the character is. Why are you attracted to playing this role?

Both you and Bill did a super job in the play. My wife and I were talking about it all evening, and into this morning.

By: Julia

Julia — Fri, 26 Jun 2009 18:47:11 +0000

Reality checks are always appreciated! I feel so fortunate to set foot on that stage, and call it my job.

By: Scott

Scott — Fri, 26 Jun 2009 03:37:55 +0000

Julia:
I thought I’d share with you my thoughts on Oleanna, having finally seen it performed live. I came down last Saturday (June 20th) and caught the afternoon matinee, and I was so impressed with how you and Bill made Mamet’s words come alive.
From my experience as an usher, I’ve noticed that in a live setting you can sense the actors feeding off the audience’s reactions and the audience in turn feeding off the inspired performance of the actors. The play itself becomes living creature with two distinct parts, neither of which can survive for long on its own without the other; it either dies or flourishes from the energy generated by each part. I guess you could say that in the case of Oleanna, the play’s an angry creature, one in which the fear, resentment and self loathing of the characters creeps insidiously into the psyche of many audience members, and peels away layers of social conformity repressing fears and prejudices that once revealed (should) make us feel uncomfortable with them. But do we?
My impression of Carol is one of the injured wild animal that lashes out at you even as you try to help it. She cries out to John “Teach me. Teach me”, but then attacks everything he stands for, mocking his own disdain for his profession and throwing his words – selectively interpreted – back at him. There’s probably someone like Carol in all our lives. And yet, late in the first part, Carol in a moment of vulnerability comes tantalizingly close to disclosing to John the danger of getting too close to her, of trying too hard to help her. Just one tragically missed opportunity to avert catastrophe in a play chock full of ‘em.
It was fascinating to feel the audience’s collective frustration with the characters’ penchant for constantly interrupting each another. A couple of times I almost expected an audience member to blurt out “Shut the fuck up and let ___ speak!” (Watching the film version first before being exposed to the script, I almost yelled that at the screen myself!) It was also fascinating to listen to the change in audience members’ reactions in each part, from humour to intense silence to audible gasps of shock and dismay. John asks near the beginning “What don’t you understand?” (of his book), to which Carol says “Any of it”. The audience giggles, snorts and guffaws, probably reminded of every textbook they’ve ever tried to decipher. Silence more than anything else pervades the second part, but throughout the third you can sense a palpable tension building as Carol ratchets up the stakes against John and he slowly unravels. Finally, involuntary gasps mark John’s violent eruption, particularly when he raises the chair above a frightened Carol. It’s like watching a plane crash in slow motion: you can yell “pull up! pull up!” all you want but it won’t prevent the tragedy that’s unfolding before your eyes.
Personally, I felt my heart racing and my adrenaline rushing throughout part three, even though I’d read the play and watched the film version several times before. After watching you perform it live, I thought I’d finally exorcised the almost involuntary reactions it produces, but no. I read it again last night and I got that same adrenaline rush. It can be addictive: I can hardly imagine what it’s like for the actor, but at least I have a better idea why you’d want to take on such a project again. Mamet’s use of language in Oleanna displays a kind of demented genius: as an ex-girlfriend would say, he really fucks with your head!
The stage design was wonderful in its simplicity, noisy blinds notwithstanding. Stage floors often seem to be set so high as to separate the audience from the actors onstage, but the Oleanna set felt open and approachable, as if an audience member could just walk right up, sit down at the table and start a conversation with Carol and John. The small stage and the intimate size of the theatre combined to give the impression of eavesdropping on an unfolding tragedy. John and Carol’s verbal entanglement feels that much more uncomfortable when it’s so close you can almost reach out and touch the characters. Considering the sensitive subject matter and audiences’ intensely visceral reactions, I think the staging is at once risky and incredibly bold.
There were a few reality checks, credit card bill aside. First, dipshit me left his camera on the plane when he got home, and I have no record of the trip, save for the Oleanna program and ticket stub. Second, and more importantly, I was reminded of the tough times we are in on the way back to LAX. I took the blue Metro line south, and a 50-ish Latino fellow stood at one end of the car explaining his recent unemployment and its effect on his family. He said to his captive audience, “I will not steal, but I will not let my family starve.” He seemed very proud and it looked like it was the hardest thing in the world for him to beg. After repeating himself in Spanish (I guess because I only know a handful of words in Spanish), people quietly handed him $1 bills. The dollar I gave him I probably would have spent on a chocolate bar, anyway, so I’m sure it went to good use. I have a feeling though his predicament is just the tip of a very big iceberg. Sorry for the reality check, but it was an honest observation.
And yet the world still needs art! Best of luck with this production of Oleanna, and especially when you take it to Broadway. You and Bill were fantastic. Thank you.