Production Blog

A behind the scenes peek at rehearsals, artistic choices, artist interviews, and the daily business of running a theatre.

Director Danielle Georgiou on Revisiting a Classic

Q: A Christmas Carol is a staple in the western zeitgeist - a story that stands the test of time, and is examined and reinvented in new and varied ways by each generation. This version of the story takes itself far less seriously than what we generally expect when we encounter the traditional telling of the tale. Why do you think we continue to explore this story and what does this zany, silly, and a little bit naughty version add to the conversation?

A: Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol is arguably the author’s best work, and is a classic piece of literature that will be read and studied for many more generations to come. It addresses societal conditions that are universal in concept and theme, and it is an excellent examination of the human condition. Even though it was written 177 years ago, it still endures in a world that is almost unrecognizable from Dickens’. I think that we continue to see parodies of this classic tale, like our production of Scrooge in Rouge, because of these qualities. Dickens, in his nuanced storytelling, has given us a lead character that is layered, complicated, tragic, redeemable, human – not someone to hate, but rather someone from whom you can see a mirror into yourself. And to have the opportunity to explore these very real characteristics through comedy is so special and necessary. If we can’t laugh at the Scrooge inside of us, how can we grow? As Dickens ended his story: “Some people laughed to see the alteration in him, but he let them laugh... for he was wise enough to know that nothing ever happened on this globe, for good, at which some people did not have their fill of laughter in the outset... His own heart laughed: and that was quite enough for him.”

A chat with Shyama Nithiananda on playing history

Q: This new script draws on the life of John Quincy Adams in a way that asks us to examine our own relationship with our government, each other, and ourselves. In some ways this play is simultaneously a character study of both the man himself as well as the nation. The conversations in this play are as present now as they were then. As you work on creating this production, what aspects of this show strike you as being timely and modern?

A: I was never a stellar history student – I wasn’t bad, per say, but only insomuch as I was an acceptable student generally. History had an uncanny ability to annoy me to no end as a child – I could never seem to order events properly in my mind, and the yearly realization that I did not in fact learn everything about World War I in sixth grade history and would need to reimagine the event with even more details for seventh grade history was an annual source of frustration for me. 

As such, my knowledge of John Quincy Adams prior to starting this project was limited, anecdotal, and fairly irrelevant. He was the ineffective, presidential son of an ineffective president – the embodiment of ruling class privilege in a country new enough to distrust fresh blood and stratified enough to limit potential challengers – a symbol of everything nepotistic, out of touch, and elite about our early leaders without quite managing to push through any policies that would, say, show up on the AP test at the end of the school year. I vaguely remember Dr. Russell’s assurances that the subsequent, horrifying term of Andrew Jackson was, in part at least, a reaction to JQA’s blandness, but cyclical reactionary voter patterns seemed to be about all JQA was good for in my high school history class. On top of that, he seemed to me a rather unintriguing person to study, seeing as even the people of his time found him, well… boring.

So, you can imagine my surprise when, upon hearing about this project, a family friend announced, quite earnestly, “John Quincy is one of my favorite presidents!” … What?! On top of the already foreign notion of having a “favorite president,” I could not fathom why anyone would choose JQA for that title. As it turns out, Uncle Sujit has an affinity for presidential biographies and a keen interest in JQA as an abolitionist. 

Of course, I was surprised to find out that JQA was so vehemently against slavery – without advocating equal rights. Perhaps I shouldn’t have been. It’s been pointed out to me before that Abraham Lincoln, even, was not particularly revolutionary in his politics. The (white, male, voting) populace of the time accepted abolition under Lincoln, not because of him. What is so brave about doing something baseline humane – ending the enslavement of human beings – when you know large swaths of the country already agree with you? What I learned about Lincoln in history classes lacked context – the same lack of context that infuriated me about sixth grade history. The reality that men came before him with similar views and laid groundwork for him – men like John Quincy Adams, for example. 

There are other interesting tidbits about JQA, of course, that I found during my research, ranging from the international influence of Abigail Adams to Louisa’s chocolate habit. But what sticks out to me the most is that JQA was an abolitionist. It isn’t some massive, unheard of stance. It doesn’t absolve him of his racism. It doesn’t stick out because I even find it difficult to believe. It sticks out to me specifically because I was surprised to learn it. Because I assumed that every founding father, every man of influence at the time was, in some way, a proponent of enslavement. How could he acknowledge the humanitarian abomination of slavery without abolitionism becoming his entire identity? His legacy? 

The answer, of course, is that people are complicated, that our ideals are incongruous, that recognizing evil does not equate to a complete understanding in our bodies and souls of its fullness. And yet, with complication, incongruity, and incompletion, JQA as a historical figure began to lay the groundwork for actual meaningful change that would not happen in his lifetime. 

Working on this play, with this in mind, and with a full understanding that it is not historically accurate, I have been coming back to this idea a lot. I play JQA in his youngest years. I start to mold a character who I will not play. I lay the groundwork for a politician who is not yet a politician, a husband who is not yet a husband, a father who is not yet a father. And after I take off JQA’s red coat, I get to watch a microcosm of history unfold before me. The character I began gets adopted, changed, grown, and remembered in ways I intended and didn’t intend, just as the country we inherit and will pass along to future generations is and will be a product of history we could not control – and yield results we do not imagine.


Guest Blog: How to Enact Democracy?

This essay was written by Sarah Ruffling Robbins, PhD of TCU. As holder of the Lorraine Sherley Chair in Literature at TCU, Sarah teaches courses in American culture and writing studies for graduate and undergraduate students.  She approached Executive Producer Dana Schultes mid summer about submitting a paper on the play JQA to an academic journal called Scripting the Past in the Present: Early America and Contemporary Culture. In the meantime, while waiting on word about that, she had such a great time at the play she decided to write a review for general audiences as well. Be sure to read the piece on her site to see accompanying photos.

How to Enact Democracy?

Sarah Ruffing Robbins: Moving from Archive to Action | OCT 11, 2021

JQA at Stage West Deftly Asks This Question about The Past and Today

In March of 2019, Aaron Posner directed the first production of his own 90-minute play about John Quincy Adams (1767-1848), the “other” Adams to serve as US President, like his father John Adams for only one term. That premiere at the Arena Stage In Washington, DC, pointedly drew on ways that then-President Trump and the divisions he was stoking resonated with trends evident in the early Republic. Another production of Posner’s play in 2020 in San Diego showed up only via a filmed version in the fall 2020 election season, when theatre companies were seeking ways to reach their audiences during some of the scariest days of the COVID pandemic. While acknowledging the limitations of streaming versus in-person staging, reviews of that production, like the original show commissioned for DC, reiterated ways that Trump’s presidency seemed both to recall prior conflicts and exacerbate persistent challenges to our democracy—including race relations and politicians’ reluctance to compromise.

The regional premiere of JQA at Stage West in Fort Worth extends these patterns from the earlier productions. Key lines in the dialogue seem tied as closely to current politics as to particular moments in Adams’s intriguing life. And the lingering questions about how the arts can thrive during a pandemic hover over the production in the form of a mask requirement for the audience, repeated testing of the four cast members each week, and new processes for such formerly mundane steps as securing and showing tickets.

But this well-wrought production also benefits from the passage of time since previous ones. The live audience—many attending an arts event for the first time in over a year—generates a welcome, palpable energy. The intimate, yet safe-feeling environment of its roomy in-the-round seating (in one of two theatres at Stage West) provides an ideal arrangement for JQA, with its multiple sketches set in small spaces like Congressional offices and home studies.

Also, JQA becomes all the more complex in its historical echoing through a time that is both post-Trump and still-Trump: the play’s recurring questions about how to preserve the experiment of democratic governance are perhaps even more high-stakes now, having expanded beyond worry over an individual personality to concerns about what the rise and lingering draw of that personality say about our national capacity for good governance.

Under the capable direction of Emily Scott Banks–supported by Stage West’s appealing cast, skilled costuming, and creative set design–this JQA shines as a thought-provoking drama of ideas linked to, yet reaching beyond, our present time.

What is “Good Government”?

Posner’s script, with its call for a diverse cast of “four actors of various ages, gender and ethnicities” clearly nods to Lin-Manuel Miranda’s Hamilton juggernaut via a shared vision of a a diverse national community stretching across centuries. But if Hamilton derived much of its impact from high-energy song and dance with a contemporary rap-and-jazz beat, JQA seeks a far more reflective tone. Stage West’s production aptly encourages the audience to adopt that contemplative stance by having two actors model careful listening during every scene. Perched in various positions just at the edge of the raised center stage, they watch and listen intently as, in sketch after sketch, two different actors from the rotating team pairings take turns re-visiting Adams in action, but more so in dialogic thought.

Whether JQA is hearing from his mother that “To be good, and to do Good, is the whole duty of man,” or an equally circumspect Adams is being pressed by Frederick Douglass to “do more” to oppose slavery, whichever two actors hold the conversation, the other two implicitly ask the audience to pay attention. And, their modeling suggests, when we do pay attention, we make better-informed use of a history that blends imaginative re-engagement with pragmatic ongoing choices such as the Henry Clay character’s call to “compromise” when necessary.

Taken all together, the brief scenes tell two stories, personal and social. JQA revisits key moments from the life of its title character’s learning to govern—both himself and the nation. Each scene involves a pivotal dialogue between Adams and one other figure important to his characterization and also to our national story. The first occurs around the dawn of the Republic, when John Adams the elder calls his young son to task for a mischievous lack of self-control. The last locates JQA at the end of his career, in 1847, shortly before his death, and long after his single-term presidency, as he continued his public service through many years in Congress. In between, Adams (played by each of the four compelling actors at various stages) has lively exchanges with historical figures ranging from Founding Father George Washington to scary-populist Andrew Jackson, to an up-and-coming young Congressman, Abraham Lincoln.

A headnote on Posner’s script describes these scenes as “Fictitious Encounters” with “Sundry Family Members & Political Associates On the subjects of Life, Liberty & the Pursuit of a More Rational Relationship with Government.” The playwright has his four actors emphasize the fictive nature of the scenes when they first appear on stage, setting out costumes and arranging furniture. In overlapping voices, they explain that the dialogues “never happened” exactly as shown. They offer no claim “to be historically accurate.” Instead, they say, “This is not historical fiction… but fictional history.” So, the prelude suggests, and language throughout the sketches reemphasize, what we have here is historical examination of persistent themes: still-unresolved questions about our democracy’s capabilities and our own responsibilities for safeguarding it.

Discouraging AND Aspirational

Stage West’s production acknowledges how difficult good governance can be, whatever specific era we live in. One time-jolting scene has George Washington deftly convincing a young John Quincy Adams to accept an appointment as a US government representative to the Netherlands. On the edge of that conversation, actors J. R. Bradford and Randy Pearlman don dark glasses, wear headphones, and adopt body stances evocative of Secret Service protection for presidents today. The personal danger individuals take on in doing high-profile public service initially seems anachronistic as deployed through these current-day markers. But these details simultaneously remind the audience that Washington (here a Biden-esque Nancy Sherrard) was a vulnerable person, not just a cardboard figure who knew the way conflicts he was facing would turn out.  

Similarly, when Bradford as JQA announces to his wife Louisa (Shyama Nithiananda) that he’s accepting a diplomatic post to Russia, her determined push for him to consider the high cost to their private life, and especially to their children, their scene poignantly emphasizes that big national issues have domestic consequences. Political families, in particular, make personal choices and face struggles only partially visible, if at all, to the public who benefit from their service.

If the play holds many such warnings in its tight 90-minute structure, it also offers hope. The same actor (Nithiananda) who embodies a boyish JQA, full of energy and uncertain his own leadership capacity, also takes on a youthful pre-presidential Lincoln toward the close. Perhaps we can grow to a more mature wisdom, if not always to monumental greatness. The same actor (Bradford) who spouts unnerving propagandistic slogans as Andrew Jackson reappears later as a moral touchstone in Frederick Douglass. Perhaps we, as a nation embodied in our leaders, can learn, change, find a better moral compass.

In the wrong hands, spoken with less calibrated voices, the play’s individual scenes and overall thrust could be too preachy, too oversimplified. This production, however, captures an appealing balance. Stage West’s JQA is aspirational and affirming for America, on multiple levels.

When the actors pack up costumes and rearrange props prior to exiting at the play’s end, the audience has some confidence that our United States may indeed “Do right” in the long run. Yet, as the four players who have given such nuance to our national character leave their theatre’s in-the-round staging and the lights come up, the spectators can’t avoid seeing each other in the seats surrounding the set. Even in our masks, we must confront the future in interpersonal terms. We ourselves must decide how to use this dramatic history lesson—or not, as in JQA’s words near the end: “We will have to choose what kind of a nation we want to be.”