In my day, every high school student knew Thornton Wilder’s
1938 play, Our Town. It was a simple,
wholesome depiction of life in a small New England town called Grover’s
Corners, spanning the years between 1901 and 1913. Within the play’s cast are
all manner of ordinary local folk: a milkman, a constable, two newsboys, a lady
who cries at weddings, the local church organist who’s prone to melancholy and
drink, and dies a suicide. But the play’s main action involves two local clans.
The Gibbs family is headed by the town doctor. The Webb family patriarch is
editor of town newspaper. The Webb
and Gibbs houses are side by side, and in the course of the play young George
Gibbs and Emily Webb fall in love and ultimately marry.
Nothing too unique there, but it was Wilder’s ideas about
stagecraft that lifted Our Town beyond
the conventional. Today’s literary commentators call Our Town a “metatheatrical” play. This newfangled term points to
Wilder’s determination to comment on the nature of theatre by way of the play’s
unusual staging. Wilder’s script calls for no realistic sets, just a few chairs
and tables on an otherwise bare stage. When George and Emily communicate back
and forth from their second-story bedroom windows, the effect is achieved by
having them perch on the top of stepladders. The point, of course, is to
require audience members to use their imaginations, filling in the details that
the set design does not provide.
Helping the viewers along is a character known as the Stage
Manager. In theatre parlance, he “breaks the fourth wall,” speaking directly to
those who occupy theatre seats. (Traditionally this Stage Manager has been a
folksy man smoking a pipe, but I saw a magnificent production in which
Oscar-winning actress Helen Hunt took the role.) It’s the Stage Manager’s job
to fill us in on the life of the town: its history, its customs, its
idiosyncrasies. He introduces characters, and guides us when the story jumps in
time, from George and Emily’s high school years to the day of their wedding to
the sad day, nine years later, when Emily is buried after failing to survive
the birth of her second child. Yes, this is a play that is much concerned with
the whole life-cycle, and also with the concept of eternity. A climactic
section in the third act takes place in the town cemetery, where the newly-dead
Emily is welcomed by the locals who have pre-deceased her. Against their
advice, she revisits scenes from her past, then retreats from their everyday
wonder, rapturously exclaiming, “Oh, earth, you’re too wonderful for anybody to
realize you. . . . Do any human beings ever realize life while they live
it?—every, every minute?”
I became interested in the film version of Our Town while reading James Curtis’s
biography of production designer William Cameron Menzies. Menzies began making
his mark in Hollywood with spectacularly atmospheric sets for films like the
original Thief of Bagdad. Our Town posed
a very different challenge. Moving far beyond the job of a set designer, he
helped the production team decide on a visual approach that would preserve
Thornton Wilder’s stylized vision of small-town life. It was he who
conceptualized how to handle the Stage Manager, who (instead of leaning against
a stage proscenium) would speak to the viewer while casually lounging against a
rural fence high above the town. Menzies chose a cluster of stark black umbrellas to set the
cemetery scene, and advocated for gauzy filters and unusual angles to show the
dead returning to their past haunts. Bravo!
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