“I never believe journalists. They’re all liars. I don’t need them to tell me what to think”
- Botard
Prescene, establishing rhino movement vocabulary
The town comforts The Housewife after her cat is trampled by a rhino
Jean begins to transform, Berenger looks on
Dudard, Daisy, & Berenger plan their next move
Dudard begins to transform
Daisy begins her transformation as Berenger hugs his plant
Rhinoceros, by Eugène Ionesco
Director: Patrick Konesko
Assistant Director: Jared Mohr-Leiva
Costume Design: Lee Hodgson
Scenic Design: Scott Tedmon-Jones
Lighting Design: Jason Banks
Sound Design: Jason Banks
Production Stage Manager: Alex Soto
Dramaturgy: Kris West
Photography: University of Wyoming Institutional Marketing
Approach:
I selected Rhinoceros for production in 2018 largely in response to the quickly darkening American political situation and the unsettling stances taken by some of our leaders in responses to violent acts of hatred. I was similarly repulsed by the encouragement of that violence and hatred I found more and more of in Internet comment sections, discussions with extended family, in letters to the editor at the local paper, etc. While the process was, of course, far more complex than this, it felt like seemingly reasonable people had devolved to their worst and most horrifying almost overnight. As a result, I found myself becoming more and more interested in the nature, speed, and ferocity of that change.
Rhinoceros provided an opportunity to have that discussion with my community. Throughout the production process, there were three primary ideas that became the heartbeat of our work. The first was my fear of “on the noseness,” as I refer to it. The politics of Rhinoceros are blunt. And, while my immediate community is fairly moderate, I knew that the conservative politics of my state and many of its residents would create a challenge. My fear was that if I was too “on the nose” with concept and design choices by directly reflecting contemporary political figures and issues (for instance), two things would likely happen. The first is that those who already agree with me might find the preaching tedious. The second is that the audience members who didn’t already agree might check out as soon as the first “statement” was made. This led to a relatively abstracted approach to the material, but with a through-line of critiquing media influence, regardless of political affiliation. My hope with this approach is that it would give more points of access to audience members across the political spectrum and that it could lead to conversation rather than polemics.
The second core idea, inspired by our focus on the influence of 24/7 media in our lives, was establishing a transformative movement vocabulary that, once established, could be layered into each scene and transformation across the production. To help establish this vocabulary, sound designer Jason Banks created a preshow sound track of various news broadcasts, from across the political spectrum. As we moved closer to curtain, these became more intense, frenetic, overlapping, and overwhelming. As that process was happening, we had a student (seen in the pictures above) sitting and “consuming” that media. As things became more unhinged and unhealthy from the preshow, that student explored a range of physical actions and distress. We watched as she struggled more and more until, at curtain, the sound was interrupted by the slow, heavy marching of a rhinoceros herd from backstage (the rest of the cast on sprung floor panels). As these picked up in intensity, the preshow performer ran offstage to join them. In each rehearsal, we also discussed the why of transformations in terms of the text. Each performer was asked to find the specific reasons for their own transformations and then we incorporated bits of the transformation vocabulary into those character arcs wherever they encountered aspects of their selected catalyst. These movement fragments where then more fully explored by the fully transformed rhinoceroses as they became more central to the action.
The third core idea, coined by the scenic designer, was “up is down.” This became part of the design discussions early on and were used as an encouragement to upend our assumptions about our options in staging the text as well as our assumptions about how language functions (or doesn’t) in the play. So, instead of having the rhinoceroses below the primary action, we placed them above. This allowed us to understand their interactive “community” (still being influenced by the transformative choices made by each performer) and to feel their presence more strongly as more and more rhinoceroses joined the herd. This allowed us to actualize the pressure felt by the un-transformed characters in a different way.
In response to each of these factors, scenic designer Scott Tedmon-Jones built a world that could be destroyed during each production. At the beginning, when all is calm and the town is experiencing one kind of “unity,” each panel of the set was covered in pristine white paper. As things start to change, we played with out of focus shadow work behind the panels. Then, when the first rhinoceros transformed in Act II, he ripped the panel apart with his rhinoceros mask (pictured above). As more of the community transformed, more of the panels were ripped. By the end of the production, we get to experience a new type of “unity” in that the entire set became torn detritus that provided a physical barrier for the few remaining un-transformed characters and a new type of community for the rhinoceroses.
This production was partially supported by the UW Honors College and included a lecture and performance for the freshman honors students.
Director’s Notes
Eugène Ionesco bore witness to some of the greatest events and atrocities of the twentieth century. Though on the side of the Allies in the First World War, the brutal reality of that conflict made room for the rise of Romania’s notoriously violent brand of fascism, the “Iron Guard,” and eventual Romanian allegiance to the Axis powers in World War II. Though a coup ultimately enabled them to change sides, the end of the war brought little respite—the Soviet Union had already occupied the country and begun to support a new Communist regime. Through it all, Ionesco’s father often found himself on the wrong side of history, first as a collaborator, and then as a full-throated supporter of the fascist regime.
In spite of these betrayals, Ionesco’s work seems to suggest a greater danger—the indifference of the average citizen, the willingness of most to sacrifice individuality and agency in the face of such atrocities, whether for a sense of safety, comfort, or belonging. As is often quoted and (incorrectly) attributed to Edmund Burke, “the only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men do nothing.” In those times, as in today, it is not the unapologetically evil that must be feared, but rather the indifference that allows them to grow, the refusal of the average person to make a stand and say, “this is not us.”
Though long assumed to be defunct, to be defeated by our Greatest Generation, the last few years have seen a reinvigoration of fascist tendencies in the U.S. and across the world. While we downplay with calls of “fine people, on both sides,” we remain indifferent, trapped in the echo chambers of our political beliefs and chosen media outlets. As a result, Ionesco’s Rhinoceros has moved from being an exploration of how such people trade compassion for cruelty to an unnerving and prophetic tale about how a country founded on principles of freedom and equality can end up finding itself on the wrong side of history.
- Patrick Konesko, Director