1. Saw "Fat Pig" last night at the Studio. By Neil LaBute (who apparently has his own set of theatrical groupies), it is about a young man who falls in love (shallowly) with a young librarian who weights 250 pounds or so, and who breaks up with her because of cruel peer pressure (so he says). It got strong reviews, has been extended several weeks, and is apparently selling out every night.
I thought it an appalling play. To call it sophomoric, immature, puerile, or juvenile all would be too kind, it seemed to me. If I were LaBute, I would be embarrassed (and amazed at its success).
2. About Wendy Wasserstein, who died at 55 earlier this week. I had only seen one of her plays, which was put on at Theater J, and was the precurser to her current play, "Third", which is being staged in New York. When I saw "Third", it was the second act and followed "Welcome to My Rash", about a middle age woman coping with a mysterious disease (which of course in life turned out to be Wasserstein herself). It was the first play at Theater J that my daughter Hannah worked on, which brings everything even closer to home, and I found Wasserstein, short and pudgy, to be a very appealing personality. (Perhaps, this was another reason I found "Fat Girl" so offensive right now.)
Although I have never seen or read "Heidi Chronicles" or "The Sisters Rosensweig", I did read Wasserstein's book of short stories, "Shicksa Goddess", which I don't think received much attention when published, but which I commend to you all. Her plays, her personal appeal and her book all go to deepen the loss caused by her death.
And it was by lymphoma, clearly not my friend. My only sister died at 49 of lymphoma several years ago, a lawyer friend died of lymphoma in his early fifties earlier this year, and now Wendy Wasserstein. It brought back memories.
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1 comment:
on Fat Pig and why Neil LaBute is actually somewhat of a genius...
My reaction to the play was very different from yours. As a production, firstly, I thought it was very well done. The acting, more or less, wonderful, sets costumes and lights all worked together to create the right environment. The environment that this LaBute play and his other works strive to create is a somewhat shallow looking version of reality; everything is a half step too shiny, too polished. When something is slightly off it stand out all the more and makes you question it. This is the genius on Neil LaBute. He shows you shallow unlikable characters (In The Company of Men for example), you watch disliking them, distancing yourself from them. Then somehow Mr LaBute gets in your head and makes you realize that they are not as far off from you as you would like them to be.
All through Fat Pig you really connect to the one wholesome character, the overweight yet still beautiful librarian. You want her to do well, you fall in love with her a little and understand why her boyfriend has as well, you hope that he will be able to overcome all the prejudices. Then LaBute writes a scene on the beach. Then you see this lovely woman stripped down into a bathing suit and he dares you to watch and not make a judgment.
LaBute uses slick language and easy conversations to lure you in, to help you set your opinion and then he turns something in your head, without your
realizing. All of a sudden you are confronted, not just with the cruelness of humanity, but how that humanity is reflected in you, the audience member.
I can understand why you didn't like the play. He's a trickster, Mr. LaBute, and not a very nice one. But his trickiness is what I like. In Fat Pig and in his other work (Company of Men, Shape of Things, his book of short stories Seconds of Pleasure) he entertains you in one moment and repulses you in the other. It's really genius...sorry dad.
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