Company approaches to adaptation in the theatre may seem antithetical to directorial approaches, at first glance. The former suggests a creative process based on decentralized authority and diverse responses to a source text or narrative, while the latter suggests a single authority in the creative process with a guiding âtakeâ on the source. This particular supposition about the group creative process stems from the common belief that a natural distinction exists between company-generated and director-generated work in the theatre, a belief that perhaps unintentionally has been reinforced by histories of devised theatre and collective creation that adopt as their starting point 1960sâ avant-garde performance in Europe and the Americas. The communitarian ideals of a small number of Western theatre collectives during this decade seem particularly symbiotic with the hypothesized âpostdramatic turnâ in the modern theatre. The influx of improvisation and chance as guides in the creative processes of a number of visible 1960sâ theatre collectives suggest that the embrace of physical theatre coincided with the rejection of the primacy of the text, an anti-authoritarian impulse that led to the director rapidly becoming as unnecessary and unwelcome in the rehearsal room as the playwright. Following this narrative, in the contemporary theatre, the company and the director have become opposing forces: the former disseminating authority, the latter consolidating it.
However, as the chapters in this part demonstrate, theatre history that acknowledges the roots of contemporary company-generated devising and adaptation in an earlier âwaveâ of collaborative impulsesâat the beginning of the twentieth centuryâdemands that group-centred and directorial approaches are rarely antithetical. It was, after all, the rise of the modern director in the late nineteenth century that demanded a new kind of collaboration with designers, writers, and performers in order to achieve the total artwork. The legacy of this collaborative impulse in the early twentieth century was not only a new reverence for the authority of the director-auteur but also simultaneously a transfer of authority in the generative process from directors and playwrights to performers who took a new responsibility for their creative workâperformers who acted as creators of their own individual mise en scene.
This more-accurate lineage of collaborative work in the modern theatre can be perceived in Melissa Pollâs chapter, âMaking Music Visible: Robert Lepage Adapts Aspects of Siegfried Without Shifting a Wordâ, which looks at Lepageâs production of Richard Wagnerâs Der Ring des Nibelungen at the Metropolitan Opera. Poll connects Lepageâs interactive scenography, in which performersâ vocal intonations are immediately reflected in the flow of 3D images projected from the mobile planks that form the various settings of Wagnerâs opera cycle, to the productions of Adolphe Appia. For his 1920sâ revivals of Wagnerâs works, director-designer Appia is credited with more fully realizing the composerâs dramaturgy than even Wagner was able to at Bayreuth. Appia, like Lepage, is a director whose strong scenographic concepts were recognized in his time, while his empowerment of actors (in Appiaâs case, an empowerment he considered necessary so that actors might mediate between Wagnerâs music and the physical space) has been often overlooked. As Poll writes,
Appia viewed performing bodies as the material expression of the music and scenography as an extension of the actor, he sought to enhance the meaning-making interactions between the actor and the stage space through sets and lighting.
From Wagner to Appia to Lepage, Poll traces the development of a type of adaptation of Wagnerâs operas that relies on âbodies in motionâ to rewrite and thereby adapt the composerâs canonical works.
Related to Lepageâs interactive scenography, the âlive cinemaâ productions helmed by director Katie Mitchell, as described in Adam Ledgerâs chapter ââThe thrill of doing it liveâ: Devising and Performing Katie Mitchellâs International âLive Cinemaâ Productionsâ may seem to depend on a directorâs singular vision, when actually they are generated through Mitchellâs extensive collaboration with âtechnicians, camera operators, sound artists, musicians, and actorsâ. Only multilayered group collaboration could achieve the type of minutely choreographed and technologically assisted productions that Mitchell has become known for, in which audiences divide their attention between a carefully constructed âfilmâ of the live narrative performance and the stage presentation itself. As a starting point, these collaborative adaptations often utilize as their source texts a single novel or short story.
Since âlive cinemaâ relies heavily on the cinematic close-up, thereby focusing on the psychology of a single character, it is appropriate that Mitchellâs work with actors descends âin large part from Stanislavskiâ, combining the creation of âprecisely detailedâ biographies of characters created in rehearsals with improvisations that explores these proposed character histories. Mitchellâs collaboration, though, is as much with the camera operators and technicians capturing these performances as it is with the actors performing. The result, as Ledger points out, is adaptation as âcollective labour, in which matters of authorship and production are devolved through pockets of expertiseâ, Such collaboration is better understood by tracing it back to the forebears Mitchell herself acknowledges, early-twentieth-century directors such as Stanislavski who first pursued the collaborative impulse in the modern theatre, than to collective-creation practitioners of the mid-twentieth century.
Mitchellâs reliance on her actors to âwork in groups to produce performance proposalsâ connects her âlive cinemaâ adaptations, which previously have been misread as solely products of Mitchellâs individual vision and style, to Kneehigh Theatreâs popularist retellings of folklore under the direction of Emma Riceâas detailed in Heather Lilleyâs chapter âKneehighâs Retellingsâ. The similarities in process between Mitchell and Rice are striking, reinforcing the fact that an assumed necessary division between director-centred and company-centred work is problematic at best.
As with Mitchellâs âlive cinemaâ, there is no doubt that Kneehighâs work is âdirector-ledâ, whether it is Rice or Mike Shepherd leading. As a leader, Rice describes her role as fundamentally concerned with delegation and enablement. Whether collaborating with her writers, her actors, or her designers, Riceâs job primarily is âsetting them tasksâ. Mitchellâs description of her own work as a director echoes Riceâs closely. As with Rice, Mitchell insists that the generating of ideas in her process has to come from the group not from the director. In past productions, she explains, âI proposed very littleâI set tasksâ.
At the same time, unlike the productions of Mitchell and Lepage described in these chapters, the Kneehigh Theatre adaptations that Lilley highlights do not begin with a single, identifiable source. Rather, the company takes as it source texts âcultural memories that have pluralistic resonances for individuals and within interpretive communitiesâ. As Rice puts it, âI donât believe anybody owns a storyâ. Nevertheless, as Lilley reveals, Rice is clearly at the centre of Kneehighâs âtightly structured and yet playful exploration of performance materialâ.
The question, then, is not whether contemporary company-devised adaptation in the theatre has leaders but rather the degree to which these leaders share the generating of these adaptations with their fellow artists. On the far end of the spectrum, in terms of decentralized authority in the creative process, is Ruth Maleczech, whose directing at Mabou Mines is profiled in Jessica Silsby Braterâs chapter âCollective Creation and âHistorical Imaginationâ: Mabou Minesâ Devised Adaptations of Historyâ. More than her fellow co-artistic directors JoAnne Akalaitis or Lee Breuer, Maleczech describes her philosophy of directing as handing off authority: âNeither one of them involves their collaborators at the level that I doâ, she notes in Braterâs chapter. âThe collaborators have completely free reinâ.
Connecting the âhistorical pasticheâ of Mabou Minesâ 1980 production Dead End Kids with the âpartisan iconographyâ behind the creative process of its 1999 production, Belen: A Book of Hours, Brater describes an ethos of adaptation that has moved even further than Kneehighâs from the single-source adaptations of canonical texts by Mitchell and Lepage. At Mabou Mines, the source material in adaptation is disrupted, challenged, and amended. As Brater describes it, Belen, which tells the story of a Mexico City sanctuary-for-women turned prison âfunction[s] as an excavation of sorts, unearthing fragments of personal histories and daily living and then inventing characters and stories that tell us who these women were and how they spent their daysâ.
Ultimately, as these four chapters suggest, it may be that the creative work at Mabou Mines and Kneehigh Theatre clearly looks more decentralized because their sources are multiple, diverse, and therefore encourage a process in which the inevitable leaders in the adaptation process collaborate with their fellow artists in particular ways. In the end, the type of source (or sources) and the treatment of these sources in adaptation may be the most important factors when explaining the extent to which a director or a company becomes the more visible âbrandâ behind a series of productions.
Kneehigh Theatre have been telling stories since 1980, and from the very beginning a large proportion of those stories have been
adaptations , or what joint artistic director
Emma Rice would prefer to call âretellingsâ.
I donât know why I use the word adaptation, I much prefer retelling, I feel thatâs what we do; we retell stories. And so using the word âadaptationâ is already making it more reverent than I feel. In truth, I donât really feel irreverent, I just think it is my turn. I am already looking forward to someone else telling it next and three cheers for whoever does!⊠They are retellings and I donât believe anybody owns a story. (Rice, author interview, 2014)
In a comprehensive history of Cornish theatre, Alan Kent has charted the development of the company ...