FROM THE DESK OF SAMUEL Z.

There is a kind of new play that develops out of the mind of crazy people. I don’t mean crazy people like you and me are crazy, in our every day lives when something goes wrong, and I don’t even mean crazy like the girl in Girl Interrupted. Crazy people in the theater are another kind of people altogether. That being so, what they share in common with you, me, and the girl from Girl Interrupted is that they obsess over taking risks. They do not stop talking about taking risks. Ever. Even if you ask them nicely. Their daily banter becomes, “What risks have I taken today?” and the answer returns in unison: ”Not enough! Enough is never enough!” They theorize, “It won’t be interesting to watch if you aren’t taking any risks,” and, “You must realize that there are different kinds of risks — there are physical, emtional, METAPHYSICAL risks!!”

Please do not misinterpret what I write here so as to mean that the only people who take risks in the theater are those crazy people I have mentioned. I only mean to say that those crazy people distinguish themselves because they never shut up about it.

One paradox I have found upon reading up on the contemporary theory of live performance lies square between this idea of risk-taking as a centrifugal force and the privilege to perform. What is a risk in this case? I cannot focus my mind long enough to figure that one out. These crazy people, it seems, have bred an entire generation of actors, dancers, singers, performance artists and etc. who idealize the mental state of, say, the tight-rope walker, balancing along the thinnest of lines with certain death awaiting on either side. But, the truth is, I have never heard of a tight-rope walker who has died while tight-rope walking. Surely they have existed, but I imagine there has not existed a great number. The tight-rope walker does not view what she does as a risk, otherwise how stupid would she have to be to try it? And how sick would the circus manager have to be to force her to do it in front of an audience? And how crazy would her tight-rope instructor have to be to let her out into the world looking for tight-rope walking jobs before her pupil was ready? The answer for all three of these questions is: verifiably insane.

For the moment, I am only interested in theater of the sane.