Skip to main content

The Platypus' Directorial Debut

I had my directorial debut this year as a drama teacher.  The play we chose to do was Aurand Harris' adaptation of C.S. Lewis' "The Magician's Nephew."   It was well received by the school community.  While pictures are pending, here is the director's note that I whipped together (last minute) for the program.  (nota bene: I am heavily indebted to Dr. John Mark Reynold's lecture on the Magician's Nephew for the Torrey Honors institute for pointing out that "The Magician's Nephew" revolves around our response to pain.)

Welcome to our 2010/2011 Drama performance of C.S. Lewis' "The
Magician's Nephew."  "The Magician's Nephew" was originally meant to
be the second installment in The Chronicles of Narnia.  During
composition, however, Lewis found himself increasingly unable to
continue and thus shelved the manuscript for a number of years.  The
reason for this may be that the story was becoming too personal.  Like
the book's main character, Digory Kirk, Lewis also went through the
experience of having a mother struggle with cancer.  Unlike Digory's
mother, however, Lewis' mother died, plunging a bereft Lewis into
years of atheism.  Though Lewis, through the ministry of men like
J.R.R. Tolkien, eventually returned to the Christian faith, the death
of his mother had a lasting impact on his life and would return to
haunt him when his wife, Joy, was struck down by cancer after only a
few years of marriage.  This extremely personal struggle gives "The
Magician's Nephew" a distinct flavor from the rest of the Narnia
books.  Aslan is at his most god-like in the work, but it also
includes darker elements: a dying mother, a genocidal tyrant, and
Uncle Andrew's dabbling in the occult.  Throughout "The Magician's
Nephew," characters are forced to choose how they will respond to a
fallen world; a world in which mothers can die.  Uncle Andrew and
Queen Jadis choose to cut themselves off from others and pursue
power, thus attempting to make themselves impervious to pain.  Polly
holds on to a child-like faith in right and wrong, but this comes
easier for her as her mother isn't dying.  Digory, as the focal
character, occupies an interesting space between the other characters.
 The imminent death of his mother makes the problem of pain real to
him, but he also retains his belief in doing what's right.  This
belief is tested time and again throughout the story.  Whether it's
ringing the bell or taking the apple, Digory must choose either to
hold on to his knowledge of right and wrong or else pursue the selfish
use of power.  His crucial moment of choice comes when he must take
the apple of life that could heal his mother and surrender it to Aslan
in order to thwart Jadis' evil machinations.  In essence, Digory is
asked to trust in the goodness of a God that would let his mother die.
 Lewis provides an answer to this conundrum rooted in hard won
experience.  It is our job as an audience to determine what that
answer is and then assess its relevance for our own lives in a fallen
world.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

The Platypus Reads Part XXVII

Thoughts after reading the "Iliad" to prepare a Greece unit for my students: -Hector is a jerk until he's dead. He even advocates the exposure of Achaean corpses and then has the cheek to turn around and ask Achilles to spare his. He rudely ignores Polydamas' prophecies and fights outside the gate to save his pride knowing full well what it will cost his family and city. After he's dead, he becomes a martyr for the cause. -Agamemnon has several moments of true leadership to balance out his pettiness. In this way, he's a haunting foil to Achilles: the two men are more alike than they want to acknowledge. -We see that Achilles is the better man at the funeral games of Patroclos. His lordliness, tact, and generosity there give us a window into Achilles before his fight with Agamemnon and the death of Patroclos consumed him. -Nestor is a boring, rambling, old man who's better days are far behind him, and yet every Achaean treats him with the upmo...

California's Gods: Strange Platypus(es)

We've noticed lately a strange Californian dialectical twist: there, freeways take the definite article.  In other parts of the country one speaks of I 91 or 45 North.  In California, there's The 5, The 405, The 10.  Each of these freeways has its own quirks, a personality of sorts.  They aren't just stretches of pavement but presences, creatures that necessitate the definite article by their very individuality and uniqueness.  They are the angry gods to be worked, placated, feared, for without them life in California as we know it would cease.  Perhaps that's fitting for a land whose cities are named for saints and angels.  Mary may preside over the new pueblo of our lady of the angels, but the freeways slither like gigantic serpents through the waste places, malevolent spirits not yet trampled under foot.

Seeing Beowulf Through Tolkien: The Platypus Reads Part CXCIX

After spending a few weeks wrestling with Tolkien's interpretation of Beowulf , I found myself sitting down and reading Seamus Heaney's translation of the text during a spare moment.  I came to the place where Beowulf presents Hrothgar with the hilt of the ancient sword that slew Grendel's mother.  Hrothgar looks down at the hilt with its ancient runes and carvings depicting the war between the giants and God and meditates on the fortunes of men.  In a flash of insight, I thought: this is the whole poem! Let me explain.  Tolkien believed that the genuine contribution of the Northern peoples to European culture was the theory of courage.  The Northern heroes, at their best, were men who fought for order against chaos -a battle they knew they were doomed to lose.  If they were true heroes, their souls would join the gods and aid them in the final battle against darkness and its monsters and again go down fighting, spitting in the face of the meaninglessness...