Expectations. I think that the nature of human beings is molded in a way that it expects something out of everything. Our brains don’t cease to involuntarily create images and emotions of events that have yet to take place. These very expectations are then what give way to fulfillments or disappointments. Staying true to the nature of my species, I expected the Bald Soprano to be a certain way that my brain had pre-constructed it to be. I expected a grand Broadway setting with an overwhelming audience. I expected music and melodic sopranos singing. I expected myself to get lost in the darkness of the crowd and soon fall into the story of the play. I expected a story out of the play…
My expectations were obviously slapped right in the face, as my eyes mocked my brain for having the completely wrong image of what this play would be like. I was suddenly brought into this up close setting of the play, where even breathing felt too loud and rude. I was left paralyzed and nervous. Not only was I incapable of getting lost in the crowd, I found actors directly addressing me as they looked and talked. One might argue that this was an amazing engaging experience, and to that, I agree. Given the personality that I have however, I felt spotlighted every time my eye met the eye of an actor. My mind would suddenly fall into a state of confused chaos as I tried to put up a pleasant interested face that encouraged the actors. Not that I wasn’t interested, because I very much was, but I felt a sudden need to change my facial expression fearing that I would give the wrong impression of boredom or annoyance. Having a small theatre setting worked to involve the audience in its own way. Unlike movie and Broadway theatres where one gets lost in the story of the characters, these small theatres allowed the audience to be an actual part of the story. Aside from the fact that it made me nervous, I was being talked to and being looked at. Facial impressions were being thrown at me and secrets were being revealed directly to me. The play definitely did an outstanding job at breaking the 4th wall. I found myself listening to the maid Mary, and made sure to hush myself when Mr. and Mrs. Martin were sleeping. This only proves the deep connection that the actors were able to build with the audience by their brilliant acting and by breaking down the 4th wall.
Although my expectations were completely opposite of what I experienced at the Pearl Theatre, I would not categorize Bald Soprano as disappointing. However, I wouldn’t be able to call it fulfilling either. Unlike many of my peers, I wasn’t left with the expression of the pointlessness of the play. Instead, I was left with an emptiness within myself that needed to know what this play was actually about. I didn’t know what to think or make of the Bald Soprano. Hence, I couldn’t label it with my like or dislike. I kept blaming myself of being too shallow and incapable of recognizing symbols. I thought, perhaps I missed every symbolic and critical element of the play. What I did manage to sense out was that Ionesco was definitely trying to make a point in the pointlessness of this play. Hidden in the babbling and nonsense of the actors was a deeper meaning I was missing out on. One thing that I did manage to understand and notice was the mocking tone of the play. Ionesco was ridiculing the English bourgeois class for being thoughtless and stupid, really. Contradiction was heavily sewn into the entire play. Things seemed to give “chills up the spine yet warmth” to some of the characters. Certain acts were “useless precautions but absolutely necessary” to the others. Mrs. Smith just had delicious dinner but she couldn’t have dinner yet because the Martins arrived so late. I was able to notice a dual nature of ridicule that was intended by the playwright as well. On one level, characters were busy living in their own bubble of self-worth, mocking others who read newspapers in public or bent down to tie their shoelaces. On the second level, we as an audience were mocking these characters for being so bizarre. Only after discussing the play in class did I learn that Ionesco was really trying to highlight the powerlessness of language. No matter what was said, there wasn’t any connection between the characters. These people were truly confused. Their life moved along by frivolous discussions of whether there’s actually someone at the door when a bell is rang and meaningless jokes of snakes and foxes.
As a New Yorker, I obviously did not feel like I could relate. Bending down to tie your shoelaces, reading newspapers in public and even eating sandwiches on the go is common among New Yorkers. In fact, a New York audience too would sit and ridicule the English middle class for trying to give off a phony classy image to the public, when each person is mentally incapable of even recalling memories of two days ago. This was perhaps the reason why many people were laughing in the audience. They too, found the Martins and Smiths ridiculous for living the way that they do and being the way that they are. It might be possible that some of the upper and upper-middle class too lives in such a bubble of conceit and confusion. However, New Yorkers on the whole have a sense of reality and definitely acknowledge the power of language to use it effectively. That is obviously why everyone’s name is different, and not Bob’s friend’s Bob, whose professor Bob, married a rich businessman Bob, who just divorced a lawyer Bob, who now lives with 3 cats, Bob, Bob and Bob.
