The Bottom of the Well is in the Basement
On the surface, Baruch College is the Mecca of business and finance for all those who make the pilgrimage and attend. The large revolving doors give way to an environment tailored for the commerce of ideas and knowledge relating to those fields of study. It is far too easy to get lost among all the classrooms, lecture halls, computer labs, and the briskly moving occupied suits. Despite some of the efforts of concerned professors, these perceptions embedded in the minds of students are not easy to shake off. But if seeing is believing, then all one who seeks to find what lies beneath the surface has to do, is take the stairs.
After a seemingly endless spiral of steps near those very same revolving doors, a traveler who began the journey on the ground floor of Baruch’s most prominent edifice will find himself in a very different atmosphere. A large, simple, yet sophisticatedly furnished lobby is out of place considering what lies only so many feet above. Before long, the house opens and an off Broadway-esque theater is revealed. On one particular night not so long ago, a play called “Blind Mouth Singing” was being performed. Written by Jorge Ignacio Cortinas and directed by Ruben Polendo, “Blind Mouth Singing” is an examination, an altercation, and a derivation, all at once.
“Blind Mouth Singing” examines the inner workings of a broken and time-worn family. A husbandless wife looks after two loveless brothers that are her own. An uncle-less aunt tries to make a living while hiding the perceived shame of what she does from her older sister. A large framed, small brained older brother endlessly torments the one he should take care of instead. And the youngest member of the family, a boy by the name of Reiderico, talks to his best and only friend at the bottom of the well. What led this family to be the way they are? Of what significance here is the lack of a father? Who and what is really at the bottom of that well? These are some of the questions this examination poses to its audience.
The clash between the ways of the old and the ways of the new is a central conflict in the story of “Blind Mouth Singing.” The mother, or “Mother of the Late Afternoon” as the script refers to her as, is the best example of this. She is as unwilling to adapt to the present as the present is to revert to the past. In fact both are nearly impossible. When she discovers that her younger sister has been treating men with Syphilis in order to make the living necessary to support the family, Mother of the Late Afternoon acts without reason. She does not take a single second to consider the fact that her sister’s income is crucial to the continued sustenance of the entire family. Her stubbornness pushes out any logical concern a woman in such a position might be expected to have and manifests in a blind rage. There is an overarching theme in the play that states, “In the end, everyone must choose one way or another. The old or the new.” Every character in “Blind Mouth Singing,” for better or worse, made that choice in the end as well.
“Blind Mouth Singing,” viewed not from the inside as a story being told but from the outside, as a theatrical performance with mechanics and physical qualities, is a deviation: a deviation from the norm. There is uniqueness in the style of the storytelling that is very refreshing. The somewhat abstract approach creates what must have been a desired and immediately enjoyable effect.
Somewhat ironically, the set is made to look industrialized. What should seem as uncharacteristic and out of place is, interestingly, neither. If anything, the juxtaposition helps to stress the theme of the old at odds both internally and externally with the new.
The sound of “Blind Mouth Singing” has a very human and earthly feel. This is no doubt due to the fact that a sole individual was responsible for all the sound effects in “Blind Mouth Singing.” Every single vibration, every audio effect, anything at all that the audience hears as a part of the show that does not directly come out of the actors’ mouths is made by this different kind of artist. From the thunder born from the tremor of cookie sheets to the water effects made by his bare feet stepping in and out of his own personal well, the individual responsible is surely the unsung hero of the entire production.
Every step forward is a step in the right direction. Though surely, “Blind Mouth Singing” has not been the first production put on in Baruch’s Performing Arts Center, there is no harm done in acknowledging a strong contribution to a goal difficult to accomplish and even more difficult to promote acceptance of; that of diversifying the school’s repertoire. The continuation and growth of business is essential to the survival of the world we have created, but art is essential to something far more permanent: the human spirit.