Early in my career as a playwright, I had one classic rock star moment that I will absolutely never forget.

I had spent an entire week diligently workshopping the first full-length play I'd ever written, then sat through a really great reading of the play before climbing the stage nervously to experience my first talk back. The director of the workshop and reading was a lovely, intelligent man, and he'd done a lot to reassure me about the experience. He'd been supportive all week, so I trusted him, and as I took my seat, I was feeling rather confident. The audience had seemed to enjoy the reading, and I got the distinct impression that my play actually worked. What could go wrong?

The very first question came from an older woman -- she had to have been at least seventy -- seated in the front row. She had raised her hand sharply, so naturally my director spotted it first. When he called on her, she got right to the point: "Now... I'm not a prude or anything, but there sure is an awful lot of cursing in your play, so I just I just want to ask you: what have you got to say for yourself?"

Dead silence: a very tense room. This was a showdown, and everyone could feel it. I knew what I wanted to say -- what I had to say, really -- and it's a good thing I didn't think too long about whether or not to say it, because I might have lost my courage. I waited the appropriately comedic fraction of a second, put the microphone to my mouth, looked that old woman straight in the eye, and said three clear words: "Well... fuck you."

The audience DIED laughing. A few of them happened to be old friends, and they went rolling out, quite literally, into the aisles of the theater. Even the director lost his composure. It took a solid minute (and it felt a lot longer) for the chortling to die down enough for the conversation to continue. Naturally, I apologized immediately for making her the butt of a joke, and I even sought her out later during the reception to tell her I was sorry. Even from the stage, I could tell from the look on her face that while she realized I was joking, she felt horrified, too.

The thing is: when the laughter did die down, I gave her a much more thoughtful response. I talked about the fact that the profanity came almost entirely from one character -- a young man filled with rage toward his just-deceased father -- and that his speech patterns represented both the depth of his feelings and the inarticulate nature of his grief. I talked about the fact that the play was speaking to the need for formalized grief rituals as a way to help us control our angry impulses, and I explained the fact that I thought the profanity was essential to story.

I let her know, in essence, that I'd actually considered the issue and made a careful creative choice. I hadn't just filled my play with curse words in an unexamined fashion because as a young person I happen to be comfortable with their use. They meant something.

In retrospect, I believe very strongly that the latter answer I gave her was far more important. The former, while funny, came from a place of defensiveness: how dare she think I need to answer to her for anything? The truth is that I don't have to answer to her, and I never did... but I really ought to know how my words might affect her (or any other audience member, for that matter). In point of fact, I hadn't considered that at all. I'd only determined what was right for the play, and for me: I'd never even given her a second thought.

Now... I'm not saying that playwrights should avoid profanity: no fucking way. (Pun intended for emphasis.) I'm saying that we should always be aware of how our work might possibly land with people, as impossible as that is to predict with any certainty, and make informed creative decisions. (I just included that last curse word, for example, having considered the fact that my audience here is probably largely composed of theater professionals, several of them playwrights, for whom an f-bomb likely feels harmless.) We definitely shouldn't be censoring ourselves, but we shouldn't be appealing to shock value, either. It's adolescent... and we can do better.

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Richard T. Young Comment by Richard T. Young 22 hours ago

Gwydion:

Hmmm, I think I spell *uc* using asterisks because, it's a profanity and should stand out, or it's just who I am, or I want to have a nice profanity without being offensive (I know that makes absolutely no sense at all), or that may well be the correct spelling and we all just haven't figured that out yet, or my students will read this and while I think some of them have heard me say s**t I don't think any of them have heard me say f*c* (at least not yet), or . . . . .

And speaking of the Soprano's, what an amazing idea, Leave it to Beaver meets The Godfather.

Great blog. Thanks.

Gwydion Suilebhan Comment by Gwydion Suilebhan 22 hours ago

I never stopped watching The Sopranos, but if I had, it would have been because it got boring toward the end... and ultimately (to me) fizzled.

I do know Cherry Red, in fact. They might be on their way back, I hear...

Comment by Scott Bloom 22 hours ago

I've worked with groups who had no problem with the occasional "fuck," as long as it was in an appropriate context, and you could say "god" or "damn," but not "god damn." I always thought that was interesting. In most cases I don't really have too much of a problem with an actor altering the line slightly in that circumstance, but sometimes I wonder why the group would choose to do a show they know they'll have to censor. Unfortunately they'd probably have to avoid most contemporary playwrights, but their audience wouldn't mind that anyway.

In my personal life I seldom use profanity of any sort, (unless I'm driving around the DC area,) but I have no problem as an actor using the words on stage.

As a writer I find I don't use a lot of profanity, but sometimes it just seems right. I have a collection from many years ago of mostly monologues, (sort of Jane Martin-esque,) that I wrote about sex and eroticism. Reading it now, other than the subject matter itself, it's remarkably profanity free. There are a couple of exceptions, and I didn't have any qualms about the characters speaking that way, but for the most part it's pretty 'clean.'

One part of it was done at the Source way back when in the 10 minute festival, but it seems to me I had a group like the former Cherry Red Productions in mind when I wrote it. If you don't know of them, they were a group that specialized in plays with copious sex and nudity and an 'in-your-face' attitude, and if you're not easily embarrassed they were a lot of fun.

As I say, it's all about context. To me the use of profanity in a show like The Sopranos was a little excessive, but honestly I couldn't imagine those characters speaking any other way. I just got a little tired of hanging out with a group of people who couldn't utter a sentence without a "fuck" every other word, so after a while I just stopped watching it.

Gwydion Suilebhan Comment by Gwydion Suilebhan 1 day ago

Very interesting. Your first anecdote puts me in mind of the struggles I'm having to remove certain words from my vocabulary when my one year-old is around (in advance of him understanding what they mean). I just can't do it. I never, ever notice when I use them... or, rather, I notice them just AFTER I've used them. Maybe I'll get better with time.

The odd thing is... I have no problem whatsoever with him using them. I just want him to know that there are more and less appropriate times to use them... and if I'm not making a conscious choice about them, how can I expect him to do the same?

My question for you is this: why don't you type the word "fuck?" What do the asterisks do for you? (Or is the comment system here on TheatreFace automatically replacing the characters? I suppose I'll see in a moment when I hit the "Add Comment" button.) Are you not still thinking the word in your head as you type, merely replacing one character with another? And aren't people simply making the same mental substitution when they see the way you've typed it? I've never understood the impulse... or, in a similar way, the Jewish requirement to spell the word "God" with a dash in place of the "o."

Thanks for the recommendation.

Richard T. Young Comment by Richard T. Young 1 day ago

Gwydion and Scott:

Three thoughts on profanity on stage.

When I directed The Laramie Project I had to work with my actors to get them to say f**K without punching the word. I told them, "You have to learn to say f**k the same way you say water or apple."

I teach at a more conservative institution now. We have an astoundingly faithful audience who fill up an 800 plus seat house for multiple performances. Simply put, my audience isn't going to continue to show up if I start doing plays with a lot of profanity. I could look at this circumstance as a pain in the butt hassle, but choose to make it a creative challenge insead. The challenge is to find scripts that seriously challenge my student actors, tell a great story, and not drive my audience away.

Finally, Christian playwright Jeff Barker has an essay titled "Why I Use Bad Words in My Plays." (I don't know if the essay is available on line.) Jeff's play Unspoken For Time (Dramatic Publishing) is worth your time to take a look. I've directed it twice. The play includes the line "God damn me to hell!" But it's actually a prayer of anguish not a profanity. Jeff's play When Scott Comes Home about a young gay man who come home to the midwest die of AIDS received national attention a few years ago because of the protest it aroused in the local conservative community . . . and there isn't one word of profanity in it. Amazing.

RTY

Gwydion Suilebhan Comment by Gwydion Suilebhan on May 25, 2011 at 6:48am

Scott, I absolutely LOVE your comment, and your follow-up question.

The question of compromise, it seems to me, is really larger than profanity. I've been asked to make changes of all sorts that I didn't agree with, and in most cases I said no, or at least found a way to make a different change that satisfied everyone involved with the production.

Only once, however, have I been asked to remove profanity from a play. But to say it that way is really to mis-characterize how the exchange happened. The AD of the theater I was working with asked me, in a really professional way, to consider whether the profanity in my play was really necessary for the story, offering that if I felt comfortable removing it, she'd feel comfortable marketing the story as one that would be appropriate for audiences of all ages. She left the decision in my hands... and I completely agreed with her, so I set to editing.

Here's what was interesting: twice I went through the script, re-writing to remove the profanity, and both times she spotted words I'd completely overlooked. I am evidently so desensitized to foul language that I don't even hear it in my own work. That's fascinating. Finally, when the language was REALLY gone, I realized I had a stronger play for the change, and I was grateful to her.

So, no, I'm not willing to compromise (in the sense of compromising my artistic principles), though I am willing to make compromises (in the sense of collaborating to create a better play).

Comment by Scott Bloom on May 25, 2011 at 6:36am

Two quick stories -

Years ago I was producing some shows for an upstart theatre company no longer in existence, and we sat and read through some short plays we were interested in doing. During a reading of a Mamet play one of our board members found herself getting into the rhythm of the piece and suddenly stopped and looked up and said: "You know, this reads like poetry." The director replied quickly: "No, my dear, it's Mamet. It's 'fucking' poetry."

Knowing I was always a bit uncomfortable with using foul language, an acting teacher once assigned me the rape scene from "Extremities" to do in a showcase. As difficult as it was to learn to say those words in any context, I found that when I actually put on the character it seemed a very natural part of his personality. It was extremely liberating as an actor, but offstage I could never speak to anyone that way.

It's all context. As a writer you have to accept that sometimes people do speak that way and you have to be willing to allow your characters to express themselves naturally. Yes, you need to be aware of the effect of words, but you can't be afraid to tell the story you want to tell. Of course if you're commissioned to write something, or find yourself writing specifically for a target audience, you definitely need to know what's expected and what you can't say. Once it's written, though, it's up to the producer to know what will or won't be accepted. Thankfully, at least around here, there's a pretty sophisticated and experienced audience and plenty of freedom to tell the story the way you want to tell it.

Here's the bigger question: Would you be willing to compromise? If someone likes your work enough to want to produce it, but then wants to censor it by cutting or changing a word or two, would you let them do it?

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