Scriptwriting

I would have written something here yesterday, but there was a NOMADS (New Original Material Acted and Directed by Students) meeting yesterday. This was our first chance to get together as a group, us meaning a writer, a director and five actors. And, as mentioned before, there was a stunning amount of talent on display. I mean, by the standards of home, I think these people would be eligible to perform professionally. It is with incredible ease, gameness and confidence that they slip into the theatrical realm, that special state of mind when you are self-aware without being self-conscious. And it certainly is a daunting task to write something that will do justice to the talent of all these people.

So, instead of writing here, sat down to write the beginnings of a script instead, basing the premise on the old monastery joke that is one of the few jokes I've ever memorised, partly out of social necessity, but also partly because it elicits such priceless responses from listeners. And once the situation was identified, the issue defined and the characters enumerated, the composition of the stage action itself came much more easily. Partly, I think, it is the dialogue and the interaction developing naturally and logically from a scenario and a set of social norms, but also it was because I haven't written anything fictional in a long time, let alone something meant to be staged. I wouldn't say that the material is good; I would be mad to expect it to remain unchanged in its present form. But I am at least glad that it came easily, without too much trouble.

And now, we have something of a nucleus of a script, and I feel much better, having a better idea of what I can do and who are the people that I am working with. The rough effort of setting a foundation has begun, and soon, hopefully, we will transit into the phase of creating actual architecture, in crafting the symbolism and the stagecraft, and creating meaning in action. Already, there are viable ideas coming out, and we seem to be heading somewhere productive, even (dare I say it) epiphanic.

And the other day, after auditioning the actors, we stepped into the black box that will be the scene of our plays. It is a magnificent black box, able to seat about 100 people comfortably, and infinitely customisable, from the reconfigurable bleacher seating to the splendid lighting grid. The imagination can run wild in a space like this, expand to fill it, to tap the potential that saturates the space to create a memorable means of communication. It is good, after all these years and despite all the nervousness and insecurities, to be involved in stagecraft again.

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On Sunday, hoping to repeat Saturday's good study trip, went out again on a mission in the subways. Originally, my intention had been to go to Washington Square, around which the urban campus of NYU is arrayed. But on reaching the place, I found that half the square was closed for reconstruction, and the other half was more or less filled to capacity. So, instead, I wandered away through the unnumbered streets, and inadvertently made my way from Washington Square to Canal Street, on the way passing through Greenwich Village, SoHo, Tribeca and Chinatown.

I will say this much about NYU: they really are in the thick of things. Washington Square doesn't even come close to producing the effect of Columbia's South Lawn. Rather, walking from building to building on the campus, you are constantly aware of being part of the fabric of the neighbourhood, through small signs like the pedestrians passing through and the community notice boards mounted beside NYU campus information. And NYU students study under the shadow of the Empire State Building; a more poignant reminder of one's place in the city cannot be found. And while Columbia still is able to offer a degree of shelter from the city around it, there is no escaping the city in NYU; I don't even think that they try to escape the city. And, honestly, for a while, I found it hard to return to Columbia, because NYU seemed so much more involved in urban life.

Anyway - we've all heard the stories of the charms of the small, unnumbered streets of New York's component villages. Well, I am as surprised as you are to report that the stereotypes are true. The streets are a tad too well groomed, too neat and tidy, but there is no denying the charms of cafes opened onto sidewalks, the leafy canopies trees enmeshing with wrought-iron fire escapes, and pristine parks and plazas with murmuring fountains, a sculpture or two, and the elderly playing chess. These are places in which one wants to get lost in, so one can encounter by chance the spontaneous epiphanic moments and people that one sees so often in movies and reads so often in travelogues. In these streets, this fantasy of the sublime chance encounter seems realisable; and I do find myself hoping that it is realisable.

*

Also, J called on Sunday, and we spent a half-hour catching up, trading notes about our first weeks in the States. It really has been a long while since I've talked to him, or to any of my old circle of friends, for that matter. In the last two years, I have come to depend on them a lot, taking for granted that a sympathetic ear or sporting stomach would be up to a night of beer and philosophy at the drop of a hat. Now, continentally dispersed as we are, the old certainties have changed.

Anyway, J suggested a trip over the weekend to Philadelphia, and I am determined to take him up on that offer. It seems that due to the work distribution among all the subjects, every week that passes will make it even harder to get away, so I should take the chance now, regardless of the work that I may have to do this week. And there really is no reason why I can't simply read my books in Philly - and I expect J also has his own work to do, so we won't be spending nearly enough time in a drunken stupor, if at all.

Another reason is that, in my Urban Studies class, I am reading this sociology book about black people in the pseudonymous "Eastern City". There is a quirky tradition among sociologists to use flimsy pseudonyms in their papers, which prove to be no disguise for people in the know (i.e. people who actually live in the real-life "Eastern City" will recognise it straight away from the descriptions). To cut a long story short, the professor informed us that "Eastern City" is really Philadelphia - and that the neighbourhood under consideration is actually right next to UPenn. So, a happy coincidence now enables me to take a look for myself. Talk about contextualising one's findings in the real world...

And incidentally, my Urban Studies professor sometimes quotes from a book written by my Sociology professor, and both of them quote from material written by another professor in the Sociology department. Sometimes, the two courses use the same reading material, and the ideas raised in one may be echoed in the other with eerie synchronisation. It goes to show, of course, how interrelated these two fields are, and how good sociology is about being observant for connections and patterns wherever they may occur. It also serves to lighten my workload somewhat. And it is rather cute that professors quote one another, and may name-drop colleagues like celebrities; it shows that the world of academia is very small.