“It’s a strange thing the way the game is played…You never really win a chess game…You play the game until the point in which the king cannot move, until you have checkmated the king…Up to the point of death…But you don’t actually win the game of chess. Instead you have agreed by strategic decision that it ends here. There is no moment that the king dies…the king can never die; it is a formal game. There is a beauty to that.”
As I sat on a bar stool in Joe’s Pub, I needed to put down my shrimp taco, which was extremely satisfying, to wrap my brain around the metaphor Mike Daisey was formulating on stage. The chatter in the room stopped, the chewing of food paused, and the cocktails were put down on the tables of this modern day pub as people focused every fiber of their attention on Daisey.
Situated at a wooden desk on a small stage with only a sweat rag, a glass of water, and a notepad by his side, Daisey watched us for a moment in the audience, as we eagerly waited for what he would say next. Behind him hung a painting of a man with his hand rested on his chin, his eyes looking upward. Candles scattered throughout the intimate pub lighted the room dimly. It felt like we were all in on a secret that only Daisey had the answer to and if we listened closely enough, we would understand the answer as well.
The way we were all captivated by Mike Daisey is why he has been called the “master storyteller” of this generation. His work and abilities are so highly respected for their personal yet political style that Daisey is compared to a “modern day Mark Twain.” He is most famous for his transcript of The Agony and Ecstasy of Steve Jobs. This monologue identifies both the obsession with Apple products in American society and the mistreatment of laborers making them culminating to a hilarious yet controversial piece. His twenty-nine day monologue “All The Faces Of The Moon” however has a different motive. He dissects the ever-changing place of New York City in such a way that the audience is left to wonder if anything he says actually has anything to do with New York City.
So, we are all anxiously awaiting what Daisey will say next, and in this moment of silence and anticipation, I cannot help but stare at the oil painting set on a tripod behind him. Larissa Tokmakova creates a new piece each night that coincides with the monologue being told. This painting, aside from the man in it staring upward with his hand resting on his chin, looks like it contains a chessboard. As I come to this realization, Daisey continues his thoughts on one being unable to win chess by saying “It’s like that in our lives too isn’t it? Like if we open that door and we walk through it and we decide to leave, we can’t know what is on the other side and we can’t know who we are with respect to that absence. Death is unknowable thing, we can play right up to the point of that. It is not necessary to win, it is just necessary to play the game well enough for long enough that you find an exit strategy.” This abstract connection after a half hour of storytelling demonstrates the pure genius of these so called fictitious monologues that when listened to collectively, tell a whole story.
Somehow after making a point so serious, so thought provoking that I really begin to ponder the truth behind the statement, he rewinds the story back to being a young fat child who was destined to be very good at chess. Every person in the pub erupts in laughter. The atmosphere shifted from silence seriousness to a light, humorous mood in a matter of seconds. Regardless of the mood, Daisey would make fun of us, as the crowd with all of our “expectations” about the show’s lack of a relation to New York City and how we are all wondering why he has not directly talked about the city yet in the performance. Daisey’s insult does not feel awkward, but instead his casual tone makes the room comfortable, like we could sit back and let ourselves be surprised by the contents of the performance as the story unraveled.
The name of the monologue on the twenty-first night of the twenty-nine night series happens to be “The Devil Always Plays to a Draw” which links to Daisey’s story on chess. Is Daisey telling us that we can never win in life? As the rest of the story is told I begin to get lost in what is a story now about magic, vampires, a “Gray Woman” and Daisey’s mother who he compares to a wolf. Although I am completely mesmerized by the performance and feel as though I am a part of the story, I can’t help but wonder if maybe I missed something because it is so easy to get lost in one of the many doors Daisey opens throughout his monologue. I am a bit overwhelmed that I can no longer follow the many details of the story but at the same time, content that I, along with the rest of the crowd, am being soaked in this intellectual’s thoughts.
He has an enchanting ability to lure the audience in and grasp the attention of each member of the crowd. During the performance, I forgot how long I had been listening, how much longer the story was going to be, and above all I did not want it to end regardless of the fact that I’m lost in a world of magic. This experience is a spark of genius and I believe that Mike Daisey’s work is brilliant. Instead of feeling intimidated by the length and depth of the performance, I urge everyone to experience this intellectual yet casual atmosphere along with Mike Daisey’s stellar performances and unbelievable stories. It is truly remarkable.
