The 'noble savage' examined
AustralianPlays.org talks to Hilary Bell about her play Memmie Le Blanc
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Memmie Le Blanc first appeared at the 2006 Playwrights’ Conference directed by Benedict Andrews, and it was winner of the Inscription Award in 2007 where it received some development under the tutelage of Stephen Jeffreys and Scott Williams.
Its first production was a Deckchair Theatre/ Vitalstatistix co-production in 2007. This month its being presented at the Union House Theatre in Melbourne, directed by Tom Gutteridge.
We took the opportunity to talk to Hilary Bell about her inspirations for the play, her approach to working with historical source material and the complexities of collaboration.
A savage girl is captured in the woods. Memmie Le Blanc, as they baptise her, is bounced from charity to convent, eventually becoming the ward of a widow who believes she can give Memmie the life she deserves. But in order to do this, Memmie's wildness must be eradicated. Thus begins the brutal act of civilisation...
Memmie Le Blanc is set in France in the 1700s and other plays of yours have had equally distant settings. I’m wondering about the approach you take to telling stories that originate in a culture and time not your own. Is there a whole added layer of complexity, or is it a similar process to writing about a contemporary character?
I do a bunch of historical research to ensure that, culturally, I’m not unwittingly taking outrageous liberties. This might be to do with the way people relate over class / gender / race lines, for instance, so that if they’re transgressing these boundaries, then it’s remarkable. But essentially what matters is that irrespective of place or time, I’m writing characters to whom we can relate as we would contemporary characters. I don’t write for historical interest as much as to draw parallels between those times and ours, those people and us, so the more accessible they are as human beings, the better.
What I care about in a character is emotional truth, and this will be consistent despite the period or the culture. Depending on the play, there’s sometimes some negotiation with language – finding a vernacular that’s fresh and real while at the same time not sounding too colloquial. But as far as creating characters, once I’ve taken into account the context of their world, then it’s no different from people living in the here and now.
What kind of responsibility to the historical source do you feel you have, if any?
It depends on the play. If it’s a tribute to (or a critique of) a living person, then a writer does have some responsibility to the truth. But otherwise, I don’t see any reason for historical fidelity. That’s the job of history books, not theatre. I use historical characters and events as a portal through which to explore ideas. I also love a good yarn, and history is full of these. I’m working on a play for Black Swan State Theatre Company called The White Divers of Broome at the moment, which is inspired by a historical event. But for reasons of dramatic efficiency, I’ve taken a lot of liberties. For example, I’ve turned eight English divers into three; I’ve merged the two Pigott brothers into one and given him an illegitimate Aboriginal daughter; I’ve condensed time and invented pressures. My purpose is not to impart a history lesson, but to speak to themes of exploitation, opportunism and sacrifice. I do retain the greater truths and facts of the event, because without these, the whole premise collapses. Facts often provide invaluable footholds. Research, rather than limiting what you can do in narrative terms, does the opposite: you come across details that open up whole avenues of possibility.
As far as Memmie Le Blanc goes, there isn’t a great deal of historical source material extant. There are a few first-hand accounts, a strange biography, occasional sightings. What gripped me was the idea of a child raised not by animals (and therefore not identifying with an animal), but living completely alone in the wild. Because without a creature to learn from, on which to model ourselves, then what are we? What is our most essential human nature? The scarcity of source material was quite liberating, but what there was provided a framework around which I wove invention.
The play seems to be posing questions about how ‘civilisation’ forms us as people, and what it may actually detract. It’s one of those questions writers have always found fascinating, but that in some sense is completely unknowable. Is that the appeal for you, the challenge it represents?
I started writing Memmie Le Blanc when my children were very young – two and four. The process of bringing up a child to live in society is an interesting one, and every day I was confronted with the fact of how we shape, affirm, discourage and approve in order to equip a child for the world. For example: lying. We tell them that it’s wrong to lie, but then we teach them that you don’t just say what you think as it can hurt people’s feelings. This has got to be terribly confusing for a child. Clearly, we need to instill in children a sense of ethics, respect, kindness, consideration (one question I dealt with in writing the play was how much, if any, of these are inherent). But the process of civilising also entails some shaving-off of the rough edges, of our uninhibited selves. On the other hand, the more articulate a person is, the more able they are to express themselves. So, it’s complicated. I am not making a value judgment in the play. But what is tragic for Memmie is the fact that these people bring her in and civilise her – removing her ability to survive in the wild, replacing it with empathy and selflessness – only to abandon her to a life for which she is no longer equipped.
As a general principle, how important is it to you to be involved during rehearsals, either for a new work or a play that’s having a second or third production?
For a new work, I try to be as fully involved as is possible. It’s difficult if the production is interstate, as I’m not able to uproot myself for more than a week or so. But because a first production is such a tester for the script, it’s critical to be there in order to see how it’s working, and to be on hand for rewrites. By the same token, it’s important to leave the actors and director alone, so they can mess around with the material as they explore it, and be rude about it if necessary (!), and generally feel unselfconscious. Ideally, I try to be in the rehearsal room a few half-days a week, unless the script is proving to need a lot more work. As for subsequent productions, I don’t think it’s so important to be around. It’s good to make yourself available for questions, but it’s unlikely that you’ll be making big changes to the script at this point.
In the case of Memmie, its director Tom Gutteridge was involved in the initial workshop of the play at the 2006 Playwrights’ Conference, so he was on the ground for the formative discussions about the play’s themes, intentions, and so forth. This is a great advantage: it means he’s coming at the play from an informed point-of-view and therefore has a great headstart.
Do you have a view on the relationship between playwright, director and dramaturge? Is it different in each situation, or do you see an ideal way of collaborating?
It very much depends on the project. For me, it’s certainly been different according to the play, the circumstances under which it was produced, and the people involved. One would hope that all three have, as their priority, the aim of putting on the best play possible. This doesn’t always mean the writer is right and it’s up to director and dramaturge to serve the writer’s vision. Sometimes the play is beyond the writer’s grasp – in terms of skills, experience, imagination – and their collaborators must help them to haul it in. It can be difficult and delicate, because of course you’re dealing with egos and often very personal stories, with things that can’t be measured empirically. And there’s the ever-increasing pressure of Opening Night, and an expectant public. Directors sometimes panic and blame the script (and the writer) for their own insecurities.
The dramaturge is in an interesting position, essentially advocating for the playwright but sometimes more aligned with the director – generally by whom they have been engaged. Ideally, you have three people who share a vision, can put their egos aside, and serve the play in a way that excites and delights the audience. It is the audience, after all, for whom we’re doing this.
What’s your favourite Australian play, and why?
Tough one! But a play that I love and admire is Louis Nowra’s The Golden Age. It’s a strange and beautiful piece of writing that must inspire directors, designers, actors and composers with the extraordinary world it conjures. It’s a hugely ambitious play, inventive and shocking, while also having a sense of ease and confidence: there’s a thrilling sense of a writer in command of his craft while at the same time being swept along by a kind of vivid waking dream.
Hilary Bell is a member of playwrights' company 7-On, and a recipient of the Philip Parsons Young Playwrights’ Award, Jill Blewitt Playwrights’ Award, Bug’n’Bub Award, Aurealis Award for Fiction, the Eric Kocher Playwrights’ Award, the 2007 Inscription Award and an AWGIE for Music Theatre.
She is a graduate of the Juilliard Playwrights’ Studio, NIDA, and the Australian Film, Television and Radio School.
MEMMIE LE BLANC
Written by Hilary Bell
Directed by Tom Gutteridge
9 - 17 September
Guild Theatre, 1st Floor Union House
Presented by Union House Theatre
‘The state of nature. Whatever is left when all the conventions are stripped away.’
More info at http://union.unimelb.edu.au/memmie/
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