The Play Was the Thing

An ink drawing of a playwright sitting in a theater, looking up at a stage where a dramatic scene is being staged. The theater is dimly lit with detailed architectural features. The stage is illuminated, showing actors in mid-performance with expressive gestures. The playwright is seated in the audience, holding a notebook and pen, wearing glasses and appearing deeply engaged and contemplative. The overall style is detailed and classic, with an older, vintage look, capturing the essence of theater and creativity.

Here in the Roaring (20)20s, things change fast enough that it’s easy to say about old events, “that was back in a previous life.” I’ve certainly talked that way when discussing my long-ago. I am in the education business these days, and have been, exclusively, for 24 years. Before that, though, from the time I graduated college to the time my wife told me she was pregnant—roughly 15 years—the aim and focus and passion of my young adult life was to make theater. That was a very different life.

I wrote plays. I occasionally directed them. I served as Literary Manager for a regional theatre in Atlanta. I worked with an amazing group of friends in a small, off-off-Broadway theater company in New York City. For a while, I had a play produced somewhere every year—mostly by our own, little company. We had a good run for a few years. Good reviews. Dedicated audiences. But small companies that can’t pay their members aren’t the most stable things, and eventually, people peeled off to pursue other opportunities or leave the theater entirely. Left alone and about to become a father, I turned on the ghost light and left the building. Now I serve my writing compulsion here on Substack and with occasional mystery novels (and a science-fiction-y mystery coming…someday).

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Up till now, the scripts of my old plays have existed only on my computer. But, you know…time’s wing’d chariot and all that. I’m not getting any younger. So I thought it might be nice—for my kids, at least, and perhaps for the people who worked on the productions back in the day—to put the texts together and publish them. Which I have now done. They sit on Amazon alongside my novels, in paperback and Kindle versions. If you enjoy my writing here and are curious to see a different aspect of it, seven plays await you, in two volumes.

The plays I describe below were all produced at least once (some of them twice; one of them more). They had productions in New York, Atlanta, Phoenix, Los Angeles, and at a theater in Norway. Some scenes and monologues were published in Smith & Kraus' Best Stage Monologues and Best Stage Scenes anthologies in 1993, 1997, and 1998.

None of them is perfect. I knew that at the time, and I certainly know it now, after rereading them to format them for publication. But they’re interesting, and they’re ambitious, and I think each of them has something to say and a unique way of saying it. I’m happy to see them in a format where other people can read them.

There are other plays—unproduced, untouched. They will remain in darkness.

First up is Collected Plays, Volume I: Original Works. As the title says, these are my original, full-length plays.

Here is what you’ll find:

The King of Infinite Space
In the ruins of an old prison at the edge of a landscape blasted by war, teenagers act out the story of the previous generation’s struggle for survival.

“It’s kind of neo-Brechtian and and kind of “Star Trek”-y and kind of funky-political.” New Yorker Magazine, Sept. 28, 1992

It’s a big, crazy spectacle of a play, with songs, masks, verse passages, a play-within-the-play, and all kinds of opportunities for extreme theatricality. It was my MFA thesis project, based on research on Brechtian and Asian theater techniques and on the allure of autocracy and the fragility of self-government. It has had the most productions of anything I’ve written.


Scenes from a Broken Hand
A young man inherits an old car from his activist parents and drags his best friend on a cross-country journey in search of meaning and understanding.

“Ordover’s expressionistic drama is a sort of New Age “On the Road” that mingles an inchoate spirituality with the throbbing impulsiveness of its Beat predecessor.…a veritable primer in Semiotics.” Los Angeles Times, December 16, 1994

“Ordover’s script is moving and lyrical.” Back Stage West, December 29, 1994

As the reviews said, this is a theatrical on-the-road story, a buddy story, a modern-day Huck Finn adventure, and a quest for enlightenment. While more realistic in its setting, it requires just as much chutzpah to pull off as The King of Infinite Space, since a production has to dramatize a car trip across the country and uses a small ensemble to portray multiple characters. There’s also some choral chanting of Walt Whitman to contend with.

Motherland
A teacher in a small Slovak town tries to free herself from old ways of thinking and living in the wake of the Velvet Revolution and the fall of Communism.

“One of the best new American plays I saw this season.” The Hudson Review, Summer 1996

“It is Ordover’s brilliant writing that steals hearts.” Washington Square News, March 22, 1996

I wrote Motherland after spending half a year teaching in a small town in Slovakia, a handful of years after the fall of Communism. It was a challenging time in my life, and an even more challenging time in the lives of the people I met there. This play was a love letter to them.


The Wind on the Water
A Jewish investment banker awakens on Christmas morning with the wounds of Christ, unleashing a religious and media frenzy that takes over his life.

“The play becomes partly an adventure story and partly a serious religious caveat, and it startlingly reminds us how the political and moral forces of millennialism can go spinning out of control.” New York Theater Wire, October 1999

This was the last of my plays to be produced—a story I had been thinking about and turning over in my head for many years, but had never dared to write. The approaching millennium made it seem timely and relevant, although apocalyptic thinking and the manipulation of people’s religious beliefs to gain power never seem to go out of style.

The second book is titled, Collected Plays, Volume II: Retellings. This volume includes three adaptations of ancient plays and stories.

Here’s what you’ll find:

Agamemnon
A queen, her son, and his teacher await the return of their king after ten years of brutal war. It’s a stripped down version of the Oresteia set in an unspecified day and place. The language is modern, except for flashes of prophetic trance-talk that echoes the original texts. It was written during the Yugoslavian civil war and reflects some of the angst of that time, as we watched ancient, ethnic conflicts re-erupt in ways that surprised us and seemed impossible to resolve.


Gilgamesh
The oldest story in the world, in which a king finds and loses a great friend, and then sets off in search of an answer to the question of eternal life.

“An extraordinary evening of beauty and terror.” Off-Off-Broadway Review, April 6, 1995

This is another big, theatrical spectacle. It includes songs and verse passages, and features gods, monsters, strange journeys, and a re-telling of the pre-Biblical flood story. The story requires big, bold, theatrical gestures, but the content is not for children. Ancient as it is, the Sumerian text is a remarkably tough and honest look at the meaning of life and the inescapability of death.


The Golem
In 17th-century Prague, a rabbi and his family turn to ancient mysticism in a desperate attempt to protect their community from approaching violence.

“A work of considerable passion and clarity, which addresses a problem that continues to breed war and hatred today.” TimeOut New York, May 8, 1997

The tale of a rabbi creating a living creature out of clay goes all the way back to the Talmud. Eventually, the legend adhered itself to a real, historical figure in 16th century Prague. There are many versions of the story (which may have influenced Mary Shelley in the writing of Frankenstein), including a 1921 theatrical adaptation in Yiddish by H. Leivick. I wanted to embed my version in the realism of its historical context, a time when change, enlightenment, and science seemed to be promising an end to superstition and religious hatred. We all know how that turned out. I think the play also has timely things to say about the necessity of defending yourself and the seduction of wanting to avenge the wrongs done to you.

That’s it. Seven plays in two volumes for anyone who might be interested in reading them. And, hey, if you like one and think you might like to stage a production…drop me a line.

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Published on July 05, 2024 07:15
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Scenes from a Broken Hand

Andrew Ordover
Thoughts on teaching, writing, living, loving, and whatever else comes to mind
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