With very little effort, a stage can represent something major and significant. It’s the place where an auditorium of people will draw their attention to for a few hours, hearing the ideas of the speaker, hoping to be persuaded by every word. It’s also one that can be daunting. If the audience turns on you, there’s no place for comfort from their scorn, having to deal with everything that is thrown at you. In that way, a stage can be symbolic of an individual communicating directly with the society that they’re criticizing, capturing the experience in one of the few palatable ways. It’s self-expression at its most direct, and it’s why Broadway as an art form has continued to endure.
Among the noteworthy shows of recent years is What the Constitution Means to Me (2020). Inspired by Heidi Schreck’s youth as someone who earned scholarship money by writing essays on the constitution. What couldn’t have been expected was that her story had a vitality that escaped the world of theater and entered the national political discussion at various times, including (though not directly) the hearings for Justice Brett Cavanagh, as well as discussion of domestic abuse, abortion, and even racism. The show started with a simple prompt, and then expanded beyond the naïve perspective of a child. This was going to be the journey of Schreck’s personal relationship to a document that has defined her freedoms.
But is she really as free as she believes? That is at the heart of the filmed version by Marielle Heller. The story starts with something far more innocent, with Schreck asking the audience to believe that the room was a debate stage and she was a 15-year-old being judged by a series of white men. There is that familiar discomfort as she tries to give off the impression that she is being unfairly judged, her language awkward and there’s some argument to be made that a lot of what she writes isn’t the eloquent life-changing language. According to Schreck, her mother threw out her winning speech, so this is all from memory.
There’s humor as she tries to equate the idea of a parabola to her own youthful experiences. In one of the more abrupt moments of this sequence, she references a fantasy where she convinces a rapist to not assault her. The idea is that they came to an agreement and that everyone can be happy with a more platonic interaction. Still, there is this underlying sense the entire time that she’s being judged for everything. As she moves away from her podium, there is a sporadic nature to her language. It’s still considered to be a bit humorous and there are some clear laugh lines. As she performs in front of photographs of unidentified but official-looking men, it’s clear that this is going to slowly turn into something much more complicated.
The humor is designed to create an entry point into Schreck’s bigger point. It is designed to explore the naïve perspective of a constitution as a series of documents that have given everyone rights. It’s a time before anyone else’s perspective begins to enter the picture and these are just words that you read in a history book. Suddenly, she begins to age and with that an aging perspective. For general audiences, it’s easy to see the early stretch as a bit awkward and uncomfortable, reflecting something more gimmicky. She is putting on something disingenuous before finally giving a shift that finds the sadness inside.
Another recent stage show that explored the fine line between comedy and tragedy was Nanette (2018), an Emmy-winning production by Hannah Gadsby. It became one of the most acclaimed stand-up specials of the decade, serving as a fine line between uproarious jokes and something more complicated. Much like Schreck, Gadsby’s perspective is to ultimately build to a commentary on how she feels judged by men, losing interest in things that have given her joy in her life.
It starts with something equally symbolic of the bigger substance Gadsby’s opening joke centers around being mistaken for a man. It’s all in good fun, but it comes to symbolize how she can be perceived as disappointing by the patriarchy, never quite delivering what they want. It’s that and also the idea that if you stop and listen, you’ll find something unexpected in her story, which draws an even finer line between direct jokes and personal angst. The show centers around the idea that Gadsby is going to retire from comedy, using this as a eulogy of sorts to explain herself.
The interesting thing about Nanette is that this ended up to just be an act. She would go on to release the special Douglas (2020) and comment further on how she was misunderstood. Still, the proposal gave the special an immediate curiosity, making one wonder what would be her grand statement, her parting thought for audiences. Like the best of comedians, every piece is meticulously placed inside the text, having these unassuming punchlines coming back to hold a deeper weight. While some could argue how funny it was supposed to be, the craft is undeniable, finding the very concept of self-deprecating reflecting something tragic inside of her.
That is what Gadsby and Schreck share in common. They have discomfort for being immediately open, finding these ways of reflecting something impersonal that will not personally harm them. For Schreck, it was the constitution. Then, as she begins to talk more directly about Amendment 9, she begins to discuss how it is commonly misunderstood. It’s what everything else is based around. It’s the idea that everyone is allowed to have freedoms. Since they couldn’t name them all, it was an umbrella term.
But that term clearly comes with certain conflicts in tow. In general, the constitution defends the rights of men, even if it’s arguably a document for everyone. It begins simple enough with Schreck giving a story of how she wrote an essay against abortion only to have one a few years back. She had a personal shame of sharing that news with even her very liberal mother, and it starts her trail into the portion that reflects women’s rights. It’s the sense of judgment that weighs on her, with many believing that she performed an illegal act that will fill her with depression.
It’s clear that it hasn’t, but it paves the way for her family story, which includes stories of domestic abuse and how her family overcame various struggles. By this point, the very idea of comedy has been removed. The only levity given is the idea that she suggests that she opens the section by saying that various people survived and are doing well. She ties it all back to the constitution, even citing court rulings in her work. There are portions of the show where she listens to men uncomfortably talk about women’s rights, coughing and cringing as the crowd laughs at their foolish perspective.
Still, that’s the point. These are men judging women that they don’t personally understand. The same can be said for Gadsby, who begins to reflect her own youth by growing up in a community that was very hateful. She had no choice but to tell jokes that insulted her personal identity. She had to defend herself with these toxic moments that ended up impacting her self-esteem. It’s the question of when a joke stops being funny and becomes bullying, and it perfectly explains why she wants to leave comedy. The further into the story that she goes, the more she finds playing ball to be eating at her soul.
Both Schreck and Gadsby’s stories have a shocking nature to them, catching the audience off-guard, though Gadsby’s may be more stealth. Schreck at least sells it as being about constitution and freedom of rights. It’s all built-in her personal relationship with a country that may or may not respect her. Gadsby’s is more directly in line with her personal health, the feeling that the world writ large is more likely to turn on her, claiming that she’s not useful. Her stories feel like they are more unexpected, and what’s more incredible is how she manages to divert from joy to sadness and back with such precision that it’s amazing how she keeps the audience on her side. All she has are her words, and it feels like she’s on trial, being as judged by the men in her story as she is the audience who may be seeing her for the first time.
Schreck’s big difference is that she has built in more of the conventions of a play. While she is largely the only actor onstage, there are two additional figures who enter the story at different points to provide different contexts. The first is a man designed as the rules regulator, allowing for access to props so that the story can keep flowing. At one point he even reveals to the audience that he is queer and grew up being called a fag. He’s found ways to deal with things, but once again it’s all servicing the idea of freedom. What are this man’s rights and why does he deserve them? Of course, he’s being presented as an alternative to the men Schreck rallies against, and it makes the results all the more fulfilling.
There is an additional character in the final portion where she invites a Black child to the stage to perform a more direct mock debate. Whereas everything before was table setting for her various monologues, this is going to be the intense finale that creates something more provocative. It’s a discussion of how constitutional rights have changed since Schreck’s day. She thanks the younger generation for making her feel like everything will be okay, that all of the problems she faced will be fought for. What starts as a debate about whether to abolish the constitution becomes a debate about how ineffective it is, but why it should be seen as a living document and should be altered to reflect the changing culture.
The finale is ultimately an inspiring one, even featuring audience interaction. It’s the type of conclusion that makes you feel like everything will be all right. Everyone is working to make the constitution mean something more important. Everyone in this room is designed to find some inspiration in Schreck’s words. Her experiences should make those with similar moments feel less alone, knowing that the world deserves to hear their voice. As mentioned, this is a show that has been discussed in relation to actual current events, and it shows in her ability to bring these points to life in meaningful ways.
In a lot of ways, Gadsby’s work is maybe less encouraging. After all, it is a metaphorical end of her career. She ends with a perfectly laid out explanation for why women retire from careers. They have such optimism at first but end up feeling marginalized, like all of the hard work amounts to so little. Maybe, in some perverse ways, she’s trying to encourage more honest debate and get things to change. It has traces of optimism, but it’s more a form of self-expression that asks us to listen to women and let them share why they feel certain ways.
While both are theoretically designed differently, both are stage shows that are meant to persuade audiences to look at the world and ask why we let certain behaviors fly. There is a discussion of abuse towards women, and it gets into some uncomfortable territory. Still, it asks the audience to listen and understand that this is the pain that they live with both in terms of emotional abuse and personal rights. They deserve to have as much freedom as men do, and these are pleas for a better world. Whereas Schreck’s is more of a direct stage show, it doesn’t keep Gadsby’s from lacking any deeper meaning. Both feel designed to persuade and even make you a more informed person. Thankfully, it does so in one of the most entertaining ways possible.
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