<a href="http://4thwalldramaturgy.byu.edu/an-introduction-to-the-selfish-giant/selfish-giant-online-art-580x200" rel="attachment wp-att-2585"><img class="alignright size-full wp-image-2585" alt="Selfish-Giant-Online-Art-580x200" src="http://4thwalldramaturgy.byu.edu/wp-content/uploads/2014/03/Selfish-Giant-Online-Art-580x200.jpg" width="580" height="200" /></a>
Oscar Wilde
<em>[Editor's Note: For those of you unfamiliar with the original story of </em>The Selfish Giant<em>
by Oscar Wilde
[Editor's Note: For those of you unfamiliar with the original story of The Selfish Giant, please enjoy the following tale before coming to see the show!]
Every afternoon, as they were coming from school, the children used to go and play in the Giant's garden.
It was a large lovely garden, with soft green grass. Here and there over the grass stood beautiful flowers like stars, and there were twelve peach-trees that in the spring-time broke out into delicate blossoms of pink and pearl, and in the autumn bore rich fruit. The birds sat on the trees and sang so sweetly that the children used to stop their games in order to listen to them. 'How happy we are here!' they cried to each other.
One day the Giant came back. He had been to visit his friend the Cornish ogre, and had stayed with him for seven years. After the seven years were over he had said all that he had to say, for his conversation was limited, and he determined to return to his own castle. When he arrived he saw the children playing in the garden.
'What are you doing here?' he cried in a very gruff voice, and the children ran away.
'My own garden is my own garden,' said the Giant; 'any one can understand that, and I will allow nobody to play in it but myself.' So he built a high wall all round it, and put up a notice-board.
TRESPASSERS
WILL BE
PROSECUTED
He was a very selfish Giant.
The poor children had now nowhere to play. They tried to play on the road, but the road was very dusty and full of hard stones, and they did not like it. They used to wander round the high wall when their lessons were over, and talk about the beautiful garden inside.
'How happy we were there,' they said to each other.
Then the Spring came, and all over the country there were little blossoms and little birds. Only in the garden of the Selfish Giant it was still Winter. The birds did not care to sing in it as there were no children, and the trees forgot to blossom. Once a beautiful flower put its head out from the grass, but when it saw the notice-board it was so sorry for the children that it slipped back into the ground again, and went off to sleep. The only people who were pleased were the Snow and the Frost. 'Spring has forgotten this garden,' they cried, 'so we will live here all the year round.' The Snow covered up the grass with her great white cloak, and the Frost painted all the trees silver. Then they invited the North Wind to stay with them, and he came. He was wrapped in furs, and he roared all day about the garden, and blew the chimney-pots down. 'This is a delightful spot,' he said, 'we must ask the Hail on a visit.' So the Hail came. Every day for three hours he rattled on the roof of the castle till he broke most of the slates, and then he ran round and round the garden as fast as he could go. He was dressed in grey, and his breath was like ice.
'I cannot understand why the Spring is so late in coming,' said the Selfish Giant, as he sat at the window and looked out at his cold white garden; 'I hope there will be a change in the weather.'
But the Spring never came, nor the Summer. The Autumn gave golden fruit to every garden, but to the Giant's garden she gave none. 'He is too selfish,' she said. So it was always Winter there, and the North Wind, and the Hail, and the Frost, and the Snow danced about through the trees.
One morning the Giant was lying awake in bed when he heard some lovely music. It sounded so sweet to his ears that he thought it must be the King's musicians passing by. It was really only a little linnet singing outside his window, but it was so long since he had heard a bird sing in his garden that it seemed to him to be the most beautiful music in the world. Then the Hail stopped dancing over his head, and the North Wind ceased roaring, and a delicious perfume came to him through the open casement. 'I believe the Spring has come at last,' said the Giant; and he jumped out of bed and looked out.
What did he see?
He saw a most wonderful sight. Through a little hole in the wall the children had crept in, and they were sitting in the branches of the trees. In every tree that he could see there was a little child. And the trees were so glad to have the children back again that they had covered themselves with blossoms, and were waving their arms gently above the children's heads. The birds were flying about and twittering with delight, and the flowers were looking up through the green grass and laughing. It was a lovely scene, only in one corner it was still Winter. It was the farthest corner of the garden, and in it was standing a little boy. He was so small that he could not reach up to the branches of the tree, and he was wandering all round it, crying bitterly. The poor tree was still quite covered with frost and snow, and the North Wind was blowing and roaring above it. 'Climb up! little boy,' said the Tree, and it bent its branches down as low as it could; but the little boy was too tiny.
And the Giant's heart melted as he looked out. 'How selfish I have been!' he said; 'now I know why the Spring would not come here. I will put that poor little boy on the top of the tree, and then I will knock down the wall, and my garden shall be the children's playground for ever and ever.' He was really very sorry for what he had done.
So he crept downstairs and opened the front door quite softly, and went out into the garden. But when the children saw him they were so frightened that they all ran away, and the garden became Winter again. Only the little boy did not run, for his eyes were so full of tears that he died not see the Giant coming. And the Giant stole up behind him and took him gently in his hand, and put him up into the tree. And the tree broke at once into blossom, and the birds came and sang on it, and the little boy stretched out his two arms and flung them round the Giant's neck, and kissed him. And the other children, when they saw that the Giant was not wicked any longer, came running back, and with them came the Spring. 'It is your garden now, little children,' said the Giant, and he took a great axe and knocked down the wall. And when the people were gong to market at twelve o'clock they found the Giant playing with the children in the most beautiful garden they had ever seen.
All day long they played, and in the evening they came to the Giant to bid him good-bye.
'But where is your little companion?' he said: 'the boy I put into the tree.' The Giant loved him the best because he had kissed him.
'We don't know,' answered the children; 'he has gone away.'
'You must tell him to be sure and come here to-morrow,' said the Giant. But the children said that they did not know where he lived, and had never seen him before; and the Giant felt very sad.
Every afternoon, when school was over, the children came and played with the Giant. But the little boy whom the Giant loved was never seen again. The Giant was very kind to all the children, yet he longed for his first little friend, and often spoke of him. 'How I would like to see him!' he used to say.
Years went over, and the Giant grew very old and feeble. He could not play about any more, so he sat in a huge armchair, and watched the children at their games, and admired his garden. 'I have many beautiful flowers,' he said; 'but the children are the most beautiful flowers of all.'
One winter morning he looked out of his window as he was dressing. He did not hate the Winter now, for he knew that it was merely the Spring asleep, and that the flowers were resting.
Suddenly he rubbed his eyes in wonder, and looked and looked. It certainly was a marvellous sight. In the farthest corner of the garden was a tree quite covered with lovely white blossoms. Its branches were all golden, and silver fruit hung down from them, and underneath it stood the little boy he had loved.
Downstairs ran the Giant in great joy, and out into the garden. He hastened across the grass, and came near to the child. And when he came quite close his face grew red with anger, and he said, 'Who hath dared to wound thee?' For on the palms of the child's hands were the prints of two nails, and the prints of two nails were on the little feet.
'Who hath dared to wound thee?' cried the Giant; 'tell me, that I may take my big sword and slay him.'
'Nay!' answered the child; 'but these are the wounds of Love.'
'Who art thou?' said the Giant, and a strange awe fell on him, and he knelt before the little child.
And the child smiled on the Giant, and said to him, 'You let me play once in your garden, to-day you shall come with me to my garden, which is Paradise.'
And when the children ran in that afternoon, they found the Giant lying dead under the tree, all covered with white blossoms.
Simple is Best [caption id="" align="aligncenter" width="640"] Indeed.[/caption] by Adam White, dramaturg I write this blog post on the day of final dress rehearsal, on the eve of opening night! Everyone involved in this production of A Man for All Seasons has done marvelous work; the set and costuming and make up are all beautiful, and the cast is eager to put their performance in front of a live audience. I guess one could wonder if a dramaturg would give anything but a glowing report of their play that's about to go up, but quite truthfully: I'm eager for you to see this play! On the subject of wanting you to see our production of A Man For All Seasons, I want to relay to you an interesting experience I had just two day ago. Every BYUarts theatre production gets a promotional video, and I was asked by the video makers in charge of the promotional video to be interviewed for the piece on A Man for All Seasons. I accepted, and when I was in the interview, they had two questions for me: 1.) What is A Man for All Seasons about? 2.) Why should people go see A Man for All Seasons? As a dramaturg, I had a great answer for number one. Summarizing the events of this play in an interesting way was no problem. But that second question? That question gave me the hardest time! In the interview moment I was so flustered by my lack of an a concise answer. I quickly babbled out some gibberish to the camera man, after which I apologized and told him if he needed something more intelligible he shouldn't hesitate to call me back. Needless to say I was pretty embarrassed after the experience. Here's the thing: I'm the dramaturgy for this show. I should have some insight as to why people should go see this play (and I do). As I've thought about this experience and about my work as a dramaturg, I've come to the realize that in this situation what I needed was simplicity. Simple is best. See, during that brief interview with the promotional video guys, I was trying to make up a reason for people to see this show that sounded meaningful, or at least scholarly. That wasn't the right attitude for me at all because it meant that I was reaching beyond the play, maybe for selfish reasons, to lend what I deemed to be credibility to a piece of art that, maybe, doesn't need to be legitimized at all. I was being long-winded and downright silly. What the play really needed was for me to speak its simple 'truth.' To redeem myself a little bit and to put my new motto for dramaturgy into practice, I will tell you why I think people should see A Man for All Seasons. I firmly believe, in the words of Oscar Wilde, that "Life imitates art far more than art imitates Life." This play, this conflict between Thomas More, his family, and King Henry VIII, informs our understanding of what it means to have a conscience. Bolt challenges us to explore what it means to have an integrity and what having integrity means in our most intimate relationships. Also revealed in this play is the corrupting influence of political power. I think that every person grapples with these themes, experiences, and issues.A Man for All Seasons is an important play for people to see. The promotional video guys didn't end up using my interview for the promotional video. Frankly, I feel so relieved; it was awful. May you forego the trappings of intelligent-sounding language the next time you are in an interview. Enjoy the show!
[caption id="attachment_4573" align="alignleft" width="222"] Mother Courage Counsels her children to "be careful," in the war.[/caption] Hello all you 4th Wall Fans! Mother Courage and Her Children opened on Friday to a major success. Tickets are still available for other showings, but they are going fast. You can buy them online by visiting this link: http://bit.ly/1WTCpMW See you soon!
By Kristen Leinbach, Dramaturg As we continue to move through the rehearsal process, it still amazes how much we are learning from this show. Rachelle Elbert and Jack Shapiro, members of the ensemble, shared the following about their experiences with the show... "The Light in the Piazza has been an escape for me (Rachelle Elbert). Being surrounded by beautiful music, passionate characters and actors, and the vivacity of the Italian culture has provided an insight into a whole new world that soothes the heart and soul. I have had the chance to experience both the bold Italian life and the sweet southern innocence as an ensemble member and Clara's understudy. As I've discovered who Clara is, her light and purity has slowly peeled away the layers and walls that I've built up throughout my own life. I feel a new light in my life, a new found appreciation for the unknown, and find beauty and sympathy in the strangest of places. I have become more comfortable with vulnerability and free expression and it's literally the greatest feeling in the world. Being apart of the beautiful production Light in the Piazza has been emotionally and spiritually fulfilling, and has opened my eyes to a realm of theater I never knew before." [caption id="" align="aligncenter" width="576"] Piazza Rehearsal - Right to Left