The Mythology of History, Family and Performance

Shortly before beginning rehearsals together for the Public’s production of Topdog/Underdog, playwright Suzan-Lori Parks and director George C. Wolfe sat down to talk. Literary Manager Rick DesRochers joined in the discussion and recorded the conversation. Rick DesRochers

On the surface, Topdog/Underdog is a seemingly simple play about sibling rivalry and a younger brother’s attempt to get the same respect and success enjoyed by his older brother. Can you talk about how the play sheds new light on the age-old fraternal dynamic of having a shared history?

George C. Wolfe

I don’t think I’ve ever worked on a two-character, one-room play in my entire life, but what is exciting to me is that once you get inside this play, you realize that the whole world is inside this room. The relationship between the two brothers is astoundingly real and astoundingly mythic at the same time. How does one negotiate a real relationship with one’s history? Where do the facts end, and where does the imagination really take over? One’s own history is comprised of what one remembers and what one imagines. When you have a fractured legacy, as most of us do, then invention is a necessity.

Suzan-Lori Parks

People like their history in different ways, and when you come into the theater, the fun for me is that you see these characters named Lincoln and Booth, and you see a handgun introduced early on in the play. The real fun for me becomes: How do you like your history? How do you want to see this played out? We know what happens to Lincoln and Booth in actual history, but what are the other possibilities on stage? Some people like it by the book, as it was; some like it as it could be. People may hope for the play to conclude in a particular way depending on how they like their history.

GCW

Topdog concerns the mythology of family. I find that in a lot of families the older brother tends to be attracted to the mythology and illusions of family and is invested in creating a scenario of the white picket fence and family picnics together, which has glimmers of truth, but is not necessarily grounded in truth. Whereas the younger brother tends to be totally invested in the phenomenon of overthrowing the older brother so as to claim enough space for himself. In addition to this dynamic, because the brothers, in the play, are abandoned, the symbiotic nature of their relationship is intensified, with Lincoln and Booth playing out the dynamics and roles of mother/father and husband/wife for each other.

RD

George, I know that you are interested in the notion of how people roleplay in their everyday lives. How does this play itself out in Topdog?

GCW

Lincoln, as a three-card monte player, is used to performing, and revealing what needs to be revealed and concealing what needs to be concealed, as a good actor does. He works with the response of the crowd. Booth, by virtue of the fact that he is a thief, is used to performing actions that no one watches. One is used to having the reaction of other people, the other is most effective when nobody notices him. What’s fascinating is what happens when Booth wants to be noticed and attempts to become a three-card dealer. Booth wants to live in the legacy that his brother has enjoyed and has had success with. Lincoln has retreated from performance, and is just trying to craft some level of equilibrium in his life.

RD

In effect, they have reversed positions and performance strategies. Is there something fun for you, Suzan-Lori, writing a play about two men and their masculine dynamics?

SLP

I don’t think about “dynamics,” per se. What’s important to me is that, when I was writing the play, I was the two men I wrote about. And that applies to any characters that I write. I become the characters and let them speak. In this play, there is no escape for the two men, there is no escape from this one room that they share. In other plays, I can fan out and become other people and have multiple perspectives, but here I have to deal with what these guys are going through first hand. When they were together I was both of them. When one brother was gone, I was the other one waiting for him to return. Writing this play was unlike any other writing experience I’ve ever had.

GCW

Masculinity is the ultimate performance piece. And success as a male animal depends on how much they inhabit that role. It’s about how many women they can attract, how much money they make, and how much power they can possess. The success of being a man depends on how successful they are in convincing others of their masculinity. But ultimately Lincoln and Booth, in addition to being brothers, are also male animals fighting for territory and dominance over their domain.

RD

Throughout the play, Lincoln and Booth keep returning to their room. What keeps them coming back, and why is this so important for them?

SLP

Lincoln doesn’t have any other place to live. Some people just fall, and can’t get it together. Some people fall and they don’t get up. That’s just the way it is. Lincoln has given up his place on top, and returns to what he knows. He comes home to Booth, who knows who Lincoln is, and more importantly who he was.

GCW

And how they are defined or redefined when they are in that room? When the brothers are out in the world they are defined by other people’s perceptions of them. Inside the room they have to deal with their history as family and there is no escaping that. Nobody understands their complexities except each other. They become defined by their own history. Intimacy requires that you negotiate a moment-to-moment relationship with another person who knows you.

RD

They retreat into this world of the mythological family, which provides home, stability, and clearly defined roles that allow them to survive.

SLP

We all go through this to some extent, where we return home in order to rediscover who we are.

GCW

And where we go to get re-anchored is family.

RD

Suzan-Lori, the Lincoln assassination act from The America Play finds its way into Topdog/Underdog. What brings you back to the idea of a black man impersonating Lincoln? And how does this work for you in terms of your playwriting?

SLP

I was at a discussion of playwrights recently here at the Public, and I was impressed by the fact that some writers set themselves tasks of what kind of play they are going to write, and how big in scope it will be, and how many characters it will have, the themes, images, everything, and what it is going to be all about. But I don’t work like that at all; I just let it come out. I just let the characters do the talking, and I’m right in the room with them, doing it all as they are doing it. I feel as if I’m writing less from a place of “consciousness,” and more from a place of “superconsciousness.”

RD

What’s interesting about that is it becomes the same experience for the audience. The surprise of discovery of what these characters are going to do, and what will happen to them is the same for the audience as it was for you when you were writing it.

GCW

I have this theory about theater. I believe that the audience can tell when they are in the presence of a stale truth. When you are overly conscious of what you set out to create, or recreate an old truth, then the moment on stage becomes false, and audiences can sense that. This is what Suzan-Lori does so well; her work is honest and direct, not in a series of manufactured moments, and the audience can tell when they are in the presence of that truth. They can smell it.