Dear Visitor,
Recently I have been asked to describe my “voice” as a playwright and director. After giving it some thought, I settled on “uncynical realist.” There’s plenty of room to debate this description, as my perception of my own work is obviously less than objective, but it absolutely does speak to my beliefs about the term “realism” and to the heart of what is being searched for by each character in Mammoth. As a reader and writer of drama, I am not interested in realism as a synonym for pessimism. I am interested in realism as an examination of what we need from each other, and what we’re willing to give in return. Mammoth is about three people desperately trying to be understood on their own terms, and that, to me, is truly the most honest and realistic pursuit in which we all partake throughout our lives.
In writing a play about a sibling’s homecoming and the great lifting of the proverbial rug that must ensue, I am by no means reinventing the wheel. However, what has changed over time in our reality and therefore the drama that reflects it, is our concept of distance. 50 years ago, hearing from a far away loved one once a month was enough to qualify you as “close.” Now, with our need for immediacy, the standards to which we hold those we consider our near and dear have escalated to constant, uninterrupted connection. And anything less than this is regarded as a message that we are not wanted. Our expectations of each other are higher than they have ever been. In Mammoth, our central trio of characters are forced together to reconcile the distances they have kept, and reason out the rejection and sense of neglect they have wrought upon one another as a result of their struggle to move from the past into the present.
As our process continues, the cast, creative team, and myself will no doubt discover new questions to ask and answer in our production. But always we maintain the common goal of creating a piece of theatre that will speak to and provide understanding to you, our audience.
Sincerely,
Kate Royal
Recently I have been asked to describe my “voice” as a playwright and director. After giving it some thought, I settled on “uncynical realist.” There’s plenty of room to debate this description, as my perception of my own work is obviously less than objective, but it absolutely does speak to my beliefs about the term “realism” and to the heart of what is being searched for by each character in Mammoth. As a reader and writer of drama, I am not interested in realism as a synonym for pessimism. I am interested in realism as an examination of what we need from each other, and what we’re willing to give in return. Mammoth is about three people desperately trying to be understood on their own terms, and that, to me, is truly the most honest and realistic pursuit in which we all partake throughout our lives.
In writing a play about a sibling’s homecoming and the great lifting of the proverbial rug that must ensue, I am by no means reinventing the wheel. However, what has changed over time in our reality and therefore the drama that reflects it, is our concept of distance. 50 years ago, hearing from a far away loved one once a month was enough to qualify you as “close.” Now, with our need for immediacy, the standards to which we hold those we consider our near and dear have escalated to constant, uninterrupted connection. And anything less than this is regarded as a message that we are not wanted. Our expectations of each other are higher than they have ever been. In Mammoth, our central trio of characters are forced together to reconcile the distances they have kept, and reason out the rejection and sense of neglect they have wrought upon one another as a result of their struggle to move from the past into the present.
As our process continues, the cast, creative team, and myself will no doubt discover new questions to ask and answer in our production. But always we maintain the common goal of creating a piece of theatre that will speak to and provide understanding to you, our audience.
Sincerely,
Kate Royal