Spring Break
Between two worlds: 'Arcadia' ends this weekend
Alex McElroy
Issue date: 2/13/09 Section: Diversions
Arcadia:
Final Showings: Feb. 13 & 14 @ 7:30 p.m.
Where: Withycombe Hall Main Stage
Cost: $5
"Arcadia" in and of itself is a play caught between two worlds.
I don't mean the parallel narratives that make it up, but the audience. While many college students may flock to see a show devoted to explaining the human condition in terms of mathematics and Newton's Laws, those same students will leave having experienced a play with much more depth and links to love and life. And once the audience realizes that there's more - much more - to the play, well, they may not like it.
This is where the danger of "Arcadia" presents itself, in its limbo state; because, although it deals with every morsel of a college student's life - sexual innuendo, desire, tragedy - its dialogue might be more than most of the OSU student body is willing to decode (yeah, that's a challenge).
What I mean by this is that the play is very deep. It begins at the gardens at Sidley Park in 1809, where young Thomasina Coverly studies with her tutor, Septimus Hodge. From the start, we're given loads of comical innuendo. When Thomasina asks Septimus what "carnal embrace" is, to which Septimus replies that it when one hugs a favored piece of meat. With humor weaved throughout, it's possible to miss the importance of Thomasina's (assumed) childish theory that it's strange that when jam is stirred in one direction within rice pudding, it leaves red swirls, "but if you need stir backward, the jam will not come together again."
Though it seems simple, this subtle line couldn't have more weight in the story line. I don't want to give away plot, but just say that Tom Stoppard (Arcadia's writer) frequently and slyly slips in the theme, each instance disguising itself with childish or sexual connotations.
But as this story - Thomasina and Septimus at Sidley Park - progresses, we're also given a narrative occurring at present-day Sidley Park, where its current resident (descendent Valentine Coverly) works to have his mathematical works published, while Hannah Jarvis (author, focuses on 19th century) works to shed light on a genius hermit who lived at Sidley Park during the early 19th century. Hannah and Valentine are disrupted by the emergence of Bernard Nightingale, who theorizes that in 1809, Lord Byron murdered a man at Sidley Park in a duel. There's tension between Bernard and Hannah, their conflicting investigations often interweaving, which leads Hannah to stray from her research and allows Bernard to find what he's looking for (and it's soon apparent that he needs Hannah and the Coverly estate records to prove his idea, much more than they want him to be there).
Final Showings: Feb. 13 & 14 @ 7:30 p.m.
Where: Withycombe Hall Main Stage
Cost: $5
"Arcadia" in and of itself is a play caught between two worlds.
I don't mean the parallel narratives that make it up, but the audience. While many college students may flock to see a show devoted to explaining the human condition in terms of mathematics and Newton's Laws, those same students will leave having experienced a play with much more depth and links to love and life. And once the audience realizes that there's more - much more - to the play, well, they may not like it.
This is where the danger of "Arcadia" presents itself, in its limbo state; because, although it deals with every morsel of a college student's life - sexual innuendo, desire, tragedy - its dialogue might be more than most of the OSU student body is willing to decode (yeah, that's a challenge).
What I mean by this is that the play is very deep. It begins at the gardens at Sidley Park in 1809, where young Thomasina Coverly studies with her tutor, Septimus Hodge. From the start, we're given loads of comical innuendo. When Thomasina asks Septimus what "carnal embrace" is, to which Septimus replies that it when one hugs a favored piece of meat. With humor weaved throughout, it's possible to miss the importance of Thomasina's (assumed) childish theory that it's strange that when jam is stirred in one direction within rice pudding, it leaves red swirls, "but if you need stir backward, the jam will not come together again."
Though it seems simple, this subtle line couldn't have more weight in the story line. I don't want to give away plot, but just say that Tom Stoppard (Arcadia's writer) frequently and slyly slips in the theme, each instance disguising itself with childish or sexual connotations.
But as this story - Thomasina and Septimus at Sidley Park - progresses, we're also given a narrative occurring at present-day Sidley Park, where its current resident (descendent Valentine Coverly) works to have his mathematical works published, while Hannah Jarvis (author, focuses on 19th century) works to shed light on a genius hermit who lived at Sidley Park during the early 19th century. Hannah and Valentine are disrupted by the emergence of Bernard Nightingale, who theorizes that in 1809, Lord Byron murdered a man at Sidley Park in a duel. There's tension between Bernard and Hannah, their conflicting investigations often interweaving, which leads Hannah to stray from her research and allows Bernard to find what he's looking for (and it's soon apparent that he needs Hannah and the Coverly estate records to prove his idea, much more than they want him to be there).
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