UPDATE (14 January): Off-off-Broadway veteran Robert Patrick has generously and kindly provided several links to material about the Caffe Cino and Ellen Stewart here.
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Alison Croggon’s comment on a post earlier this week has led me to some thoughts on evolution and comparison — particularly that of the alternative theatre, and especially that of its word-based drama. Melbourne is far away, but New York is not: let’s start in New York.
The evolution of post-war American performance art has been well-traced by Peggy Phelan, RoseLee Goldberg and Sally Banes, among others, but post-war alternative American drama has only recently been the focus of attention by theatre historians, and this focus has been limited to the years between 1958 (with the opening of Joe Cino’s Caffe Cino at 31 Cornelia Street in New York) to the early 1970s, when the initial burst of energy subsided and in American drama gave way to David Mamet and the first wave of Yale School of Drama playwrights like Wendy Wasserstein, Christopher Durang and Albert Innaurato. Stephen J. Bottoms’ 2006 Playing Underground and David Crespy’s 2003 Off-Off-Broadway Explosion both concentrate on New York theatrical activity in the 1960s, and two books about Caffe Cino itself — Wendell Stone’s excellent Caffe Cino: The Birthplace of Off-Off-Broadway and Steve Susoyev and George Birimisa’s Return to the Caffe Cino, which also includes plays presented at the theatre — have recently appeared as well.
But these, as I say, have their limitations, and they are two-fold. First, as I mentioned above, they are chronologically limited to the two decades of off-off-Broadway theatre (really, 15 years) between 1958 and 1972; second, they are secondary and not primary sources. In terms of written drama rather than performance, several anthologies of this work were published in the 1960s and 1970s, the best of which has been long out-of-print: The Off-Off-Broadway Book: The Plays, The People, The Theatre edited by Albert Poland and Bruce Mailman, published in 1972 by Bobbs-Merrill, was a huge collection of dozens of plays from Gertrude Stein to Ronald Tavel, Adrienne Kennedy and Sam Shepard, accompanied by an excellent introduction that listed and described both theatres that might be called traditional off-off-Broadway venues like the Caffe Cino, La MaMa and Theatre Genesis, as well as those that bridged the off-Broadway and off-off-Broadway worlds like the Public Theater and the American Place Theatre. It was one of the books that accompanied me through my adolescence in the 1970s and made it seem as if a life in the American theatre, away from Broadway, was possible.
By the time I got to college in 1979 this first wave was over — the spirit of the off-off-Broadway theatre (if one can use the word “spirit”), along with its economics, ambition and iconoclasm, continued to evolve over the next few decades; now it is reflected in the Fringe festivals and more generally in what is being called the “indie theatre” or “fringe theatre” movements. But along with this original spirit of the 1960s was an effort to de-commercialize and de-institutionalize the drama and the theatre, and in tracing this evolution through the 1980s and 1990s one needs to avoid any idea of a “golden era” and carefully look at the continuing dynamics of the project. This theatre did not enter a period of hibernation between 1973 and the first New York Fringe Festival of 1997. But it did continue, and the bridge between these periods was composed of RATs.
Whether RAT signifies “Regional Alternative Theatre” or “Radical Alternative Theatre” may depend on whom you ask; the Web site for the project itself is still online here and specifies “Regional Alternative Theatre” and perhaps we’d best leave it at that for now. The brainchild of playwright Erik Ehn and several other alternative theatre artists (including the Thieves Theatre’s Nick Fracaro and Gabriele Schafer, with whom I had the pleasure of working recently), it was a plan to disseminate information about alternative theatres in both New York and other regions across the country as well as foster a spirit of collaboration. Ehn proposed the collaborative effort in a 1993 article for Yale University’s Theater magazine, “A Proposal and an Alarum Towards Big Cheap Theater,” in which he clearly repudiated both the marketplace and the institution as healthy arenas for the production of alternative art.
But in the four years between Ehn’s article, the first RAT conferences and the establishment of the New York Fringe Festival, a great deal happened both to undermine the RAT project, contradicting its original intent, and ironically center alternative theatre once again in New York, as well as commercialize and institutionalize its practice. The controversy surrounding the relationship of RAT and the Fringe Festival was, in fact, one of the springboards for the career of David Cote, now theatre editor of Time Out New York; his 1997 essay for his self-published OFF periodical is available here.
Any study of the evolution of independent, alternative theatre in New York must take these, too, as primary documents. As Karl Marx was one of the first to point out, there is an intimate relationship between the means of production, what is produced and those who produce it, and this is just as true in theatre as in any other cultural activity. What has happened in the years since the end of the RAT project and the beginning of the Fringe festivals has been a process of re-commercialization and re-institutionalization — of the branding of an art form, whether it’s “indie theatre,” “alternative theatre,” “fringe theatre” or indeed “off-off-Broadway theatre” — and, according to Marx (as well as Adorno), this has had to have had an effect on the kinds of plays being written and productions being staged under those rubrics. And one must ask whether it’s to the art of theatre itself, or to an institution or even an individual professional career, to which any of these participants are contributing.
This is the subject of a book, not a blog post, or even a series of blog posts. For in this evolution there must also be considered the relationship between off-Broadway and off-off-Broadway (never a cozy or comfortable one, though an essential facet of the discussion: it took only six years for Sam Shepard to make it from Theater Genesis with 1964′s Cowboys to Lincoln Center with 1970′s Operation: Sidewinder; he even made it to Broadway a year later, if you count the scene from The Rock Garden that appeared in Oh! Calcutta!); the role of “outsiders” who are somehow simultaneously “inside” (in this respect, it would be worth considering Edward Albee’s influential role not only as a playwright but also a producer); the role that service organizations such as the Theatre Communications Group, founded in 1961, have played in institutional support of new work; the rise of professional dramatic writing and criticism degree programs in higher education; even the hairy question of 501(c)(3) non-profit status for production companies. And, finally, the question implied in my first paragraph: the aesthetic relationship between “performance art” and traditional text-based drama, a relationship that may be personified in Richard Foreman, certainly one of the most influential theatre artists of the past half-century, if not the most influential, who continues to identify himself as a playwright and permit, as traditional playwrights always have, other directorial interpretations of his original texts.
In surveying the current landscape of alternative American drama and remembering the plays I read in the 1973 Off-Off-Broadway Book, I am, as I so frequently am, reminded that plus ça change, plus c’est la même chose. A mashup of popular culture and classical theatre? Hello, Tom Eyen. A realistic depiction of the struggles of homosexuals in a primarily heterosexual culture? Robert Patrick, nice to meet you. Absurdism and taboo-resistant, frenetic activity? Ronald Tavel’s extraordinarily over-sexed Gorilla Queen, there you are. (And adaptations of comic books? Yes, at the Caffe Cino, almost 50 years ago. Take that, Julie Taymor and Brick Theater.) Not to mention Adrienne Kennedy, Maria Irene Fornes, and Gertrude Stein, all of whom are represented in the anthology. I’m encouraged to look at the evolution of this history not only to see how far we’ve come, but also how little we’ve progressed in the absence of a historical consciousness of the evolution of alternative drama and theatre in New York — and what its evolutionary branding and recommercialization may mean for its future.

Hi George – Good to see I have some use, if a comment can stimulate this collection of fascinating signposts. Among other things, it shows how different theatre is here compared to America, and not just in terms of scale. Ours is still, relatively speaking, a very young culture. The fact that there’s government funding for theatre here is also a significant difference, mostly positive I’d say in terms of the questions you raise around commercialisation. There are parallels, certainly: you might find this discussion of Julian Meyrick’s 2005 paper Trapped by the Past: Why our Theatre is Facing Paralysis interesting in how Meyrick also raises the question of cultural memory and how its lack impacts on a dynamic culture like theatre.
Thanks for the link to that essay, Alison. I’ll read it more carefully in the next few days, but in glancing over it this concluding paragraph stood out, especially given what I wrote about text-based theatre and drama in the original post:
“… much theatrical experiment in Australia has been confined to ‘non-verbal drama’ of various kinds, out of a feeling that ‘verbal drama’ is aesthetically limiting, and the writing of plays itself has desiccated into a hidebound naturalism. It is common to hear ‘text-based theatre’ spoken of in a dismissive way, as the conservative wing of theatrical artistry. This is inaccurate in terms of wider history, where writing has been the engine for most innovations in modern theatre, but here it has a certain self-fulfilling truth. And this raises a crucial issue, which is the lack of a critical discourse which can discuss aesthetic qualities in any useful manner. In the absence of this, no amount of structural institutional analysis – useful and necessary though it is – can make any sense. The mere presence of new Australian work is no guarantee of cultural health; it has to be Australian work that matters. But how one determines what makes it matter is another, and even thornier, question.”
The same can certainly be said for American work as well.
The Western World has a name for this primordial time which is the model of all times, the age of harmony between man and men: the Golden Age. In other civilizations—the Chinese, the Meso-American—jade, not gold, symbolized the harmony between the social scheme of humans and that of nature. Jade embodies the ever-returning green of nature, just as gold bears witness to a materialization of the light of the sun. Jade and gold are double symbols, like everything which expresses the deaths and resurrections of cyclical time. In one phase time is condensed and transmuted into a hard, precious substance, as if it wished to escape from change and its debasement; in the other, stone and metal become soft, are again time, and, turned into vegetable and animal excrement and rottenness, disintegrate. But disintegration and putrefaction are also resurrection and fertility: the ancient Mexicans put a jade bead on the mouths of their dead.
The ambiguity of gold and jade reflects the ambiguity of cyclical time: the temporal archetype exists in time and adopts the form of a past which returns—only to move away again. Green or golden, the happy time is a time of concord, a conjunction of times, lasting only a moment. It is a true accord: the condensation of time in a drop of jade or gold is followed by dispersion and corruption. Recurrence saves us from the changes of history only to submit us to them more harshly. They cease to be accident, fall, or error, and become the successive moments of an inexorable process.
Octavio Paz, “A Tradition Against Itself,” Children of the Mire
My 74 pages of photos, posters, and a few plays from or related to the Caffe Cino http://caffecino.wordpress.com/
may be of interest to you and your readers. Ellen Stewart, La Mama, died today. I have posted some quick memories of her here:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zz8ewuzJamw You may see the first fifteen minutes of my DVD about the Cino as the cradle of gay theatre here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1i1NY4plBFY
In college, I got a lot of my monologues and scenes from the Poland book, and thus began my long fascination with Off-Off. You also got all of the other terrific books about its heyday right. The Bottoms book is esp’ on the mark, and when it comes to images, nothing comes close to Bob Patrick’s site. Great job! I think the real mystery is how history marks the time between the end of Off-Off and the beginning of Indie Theater.
Far be it from me to begin writing that history, though since it’s nearly forty years since the 1973 dissolution of the Open Theatre (when the original off-off-Broadway movement ended, Bottoms suggests). I imagine the decade or two following will belong, more or less, to the Yale playwrights, those of the Public Theater in the 1970s and early 1980s (Thomas Babe, Wallace Shawn, etc.), and Mamet and Kushner.
Indie Theater is a strange thing (a term coined by Kirk Bromley in 2005 or thereabouts then popularized by Martin Denton), and I don’t think anybody really knows quite what to make of it. I think, however, that it’s interesting that Bottoms in the title of his book seems to prefer the term “underground” or “illegitimate” — in a variety of senses — for the off-off period, and I don’t know how that sits with the Indie Theatre label, especially since so many of those who use it seem to be cultivating and valorizing an “above-ground” visibility and legitimacy.
Good points, GH.
For me, Indie Theater is more about the 5 boroughs of nyc. We have to call their theater something, and I’m not about to call it Off-Off-Off Broadway. It might fit better for me to see OOB as just one small part of Indie Theater.
Yet still, I think, like Bottoms, that OOB ended years before Indie Theater began, so you’re probably right about what’s between those movements as being a Yaley period, but I haven’t seen much writing attempt to contextualize the period.
kinda… One Dream Theater, Cucaracha Theatre, Tribeca Lab, Squat Theater, Home for Contemporary Art, Truck & Warehouse, Bond St. Collective, etc.
Why maintain a geographical distinction at all, RLewis? It was one of the aims of RAT to broaden the landscape by including not only the five boroughs of New York, but the other 49 states besides. Certainly many other companies, for example Seattle’s Akropolis Performance Lab, share some of the concerns of the New York companies you mention (though the RATs did not maintain a general aesthetic philosophy — “Write Your Own Damn Manifesto,” I believe, was the name of one of their manifestoes).
Bottoms sees these “OOB” tendencies in writers like Kushner, and I think they might also be found in Durang, but certainly not Mamet or many other of the playwrights who emerged after 1973 or so. Like you say, there hasn’t been much to contextualize the period, unfortunately.
“Underground” theatre is still a very potent term, I think, and may still be worth considering. It may also be more meaningful than “indie theatre,” in that it better reflects an anti-establishment and radical if poverty-driven performance philosophy.
You are so right, George. That’s certainly why I got involved in rat. I was hoping for so much more than the constant bitch-fest that it ended up being. And as for Underground vs. Indie, I guess we’d have to ask Bromley, but just from what I know of his work, he probably fell for the more “pop” term of the moment than seeking anything deeper.