You’ll Want to See Being Seen

Being Seen

The more one thinks about the aptly chosen title of Richard Gustin’s play “Being Seen,” the sadder it seems.  The term refers directly to an actor’s audition process; to “be seen” means to receive an audition or a call-back and, from there (one hopes) to receive a part in a movie, play or TV show.  But in a broader sense, virtually everyone wants to “be seen,” to be heard, to feel as if they matter to others, to have at least a modicum of confidence that their status as a unique human creation is recognized and respected by some few others of their fellow human beings.  This deeply resonant play is about how, in every sense of the word, that basic human desire is denied, disregarded, degraded, derided, and rendered an utterly absurd fantasy by the arrogant and unfeeling forces that surround us and that express interest in us only as a source of money for whatever often-spurious enterprise or object they are attempting to sell us. 

The situation of the play — an aspiring actress of a certain age being auditioned by an imperious director — is as basic as the set, pretty much just a pole in the middle of the tiny stage, a chair, and a water bottle that the actress, played by Kelly Anne Clark, sucks at desperately as she is put through her humiliating paces by the largely unseen director.

What Gustin portrays is actually less of an audition than it is a torture session.   The director, played capably by Will Clinger, cruelly manipulates Clark’s obsequious character by forcing her to beg, truckle, howl, crawl, reveal personal details, make up ridiculous stories, answer unanswerable questions, justify her very existence, and — worst of all — repeatedly making her believe that she is just on the verge of receiving a part before dashing her hopes over and over again.  The dynamic is much like that of a sadistic person dangling a scrap of meat before a starving stray animal and repeatedly snatching it away just as the animal tries to snap at it.  The effect of this psychological abuse is only heightened by our realization that the less-than-successful actress that Clark plays has debased herself in this manner a great many times before because she is unwilling or unable to give up her artistic dreams long after they have turned into a series of recurring nightmares.

While all of this sounds exceedingly grim, Being Seen is also extremely funny as we watch both the director and his victim contort themselves to justify the unjustifiable.  Clinger’s character — who is hilariously pretentious and maddeningly enigmatic in addition to being sociopathic — talks of an earth-shattering production of Hamlet in which the grave-digging scene is performed “in real time”; in other words, the audience sits there and watches an actual six-foot-deep grave being excavated, a process that takes a solid hour of stage time, as Clinger notes with evident admiration. 

For her part, Clark’s character recollects the “high point” of her career, as an understudy for the character of Laura in Tennessee Williams’ The Glass Menagerie, that she was so dedicated to that she purchased “Laura’s leg brace at a period hospital supply store.” Notwithstanding all her efforts, she never once actually appeared on stage, not even at a “Wednesday matinee”; as the high-handed lead actress puts it, “this glass unicorn is mine!”  Clark recounts this bitter experience in an extended monologue that is as impressive in its own way as one of the most legendary moments in Chicago theatre history, Laurie Metcalf’s equally brilliant and piteous monologue in Lanford Wilson’s great play, “Balm in Gilead.” Being Seen is worth, well, being seen for Clark’s amazingly skillful, energetic and disturbing portrayal alone.  

Watching this marvel of a play brought to mind a recent anecdote I heard from a well-known short story writer, who said that a publisher accepted her new manuscript, but gave her 3,200 edits (!) The author, quite sensibly, told the editor to stuff it, and found another publisher.  One wishes that Clark’s character, and many others like her, would do the same when they are being psychologically abused by persons in positions of power.

During the course of the play, I also thought of another fiction writer, Somerset Maugham, who wrote a renowned story called “The Alien Corn” concerning a young, aspiring classical pianist with ambitions to make a success on the world stage.  His parents arrange for him to perform a private recital before a famed teacher of the piano and, when asked afterwards if he has any hope at all of becoming a professional pianist “of the first rank” is told by the teacher, “not in a thousand years.”  This always struck me as being, in an odd sense, a rather caring response (notwithstanding the aspiring pianist’s over-reaction to this judgment at the story’s conclusion) because as many artists of all types will testify, it isn’t the rejection that hurts, it’s the insincerity — the false encouragement and the constant getting up of one’s hopes and the constant hectoring to “reach for the stars,” followed by the metronomic crushing of those very same hopes until one looks around and realizes that life is ticking away and there isn’t much of anything to show for all that dream-following over all those years.

Being Seen runs about 20 minutes longer than it should, including a wholly unnecessary coda featuring the director.  And it is, to be sure, a one-note play.  But that one note is very powerful, and will stick with anyone who has ever experienced the painful cycle of raised hopes and rejection, whether in an artistic endeavor, in romance, or in searching for a job.

As bleak as this all sounds, it’s important to note that the audience laughed throughout this mordantly funny production.  It’s even more important to note that many people do break through this cycle of manipulation, gaslighting and disappointment.  While I don’t know much about Gustin, who directed as well as wrote this play, I do know that he’s an actor too, and it wouldn’t be a stretch to surmise that he based this play on his own audition experiences, and that this powerful little play is his entirely successful way of transcending and turning into a memorable piece of art some disappointing experiences of his own.  He and Kelly Anne Clark are both living proof that it is in fact possible to rise above the bastards that seek to grind us down.  

Highly Recommended 

Reviewed by Michael Antman

June 14 – July 2

Presented in the Crosby Theatre at the Den Theatre, 1331 N. Milwaukee Ave.

Tickets are available by calling the box office at 773-697-3830 or by visiting www.TheDenTheatre.com.

Further information about this and other area productions can be found by visiting www.theatreinchicago.com.