In a note at the beginning of the play, Shaffer writes an elaborate and detailed description of how the horses are to be visually portrayed. He makes it very clear that it should be obvious that the horses are in fact human actors: “Any literalism which could suggest the cosy familiarity of a domestic animal–or worse, a pantomine horse–should be avoided” (5). I have been struggling to understand the importance of the human not being completely concealed by the horse costume. One reason that I thought of before finishing the play was perhaps to humanize the horses, which almost attempts to lessen the severity of Alan’s sexual acts/beastiality. However, after reading Equus completely, the horses are anything but humanized. They are not to even be perceived as animals, at least from Alan’s point of view. Equus is his God. Now, I am wondering if the specific costumes are simply to avoid any sense of over-the-top mimicry that could be seen as humorous. Does anyone else have input on this?
The theme of the role of religion starts to emerge when Dysart visits Alan’s house. Alan’s mother, Dora, is a very religious woman who read the Bible to Alan when he was growing up. Whereas, Alan’s father, Frank, is an atheist. Frank believes that “bloody religion--it’s our only real problem in the house” (28). The different opinions of Alan’s parents on religion may have caused him to turn away from Christianity and atheism. For Alan, Equus is a god, and Equus is portrayed as a Christ-like figure. As much as Alan’s actions involving his worship to Equus are not socially acceptable, Dysart struggles with the morality of helping Alan become “normal” and questions if there is “ anything worse one can do to anybody than take away their worship” (79). Dysart wrestles with the fear that in helping Alan he will take away what something sacred to him. -Asha Grossberndt
https://youtu.be/lPaaSj8ClQ0 (3:33 - 7:27) I watched several clips of a version of Equus that was staged at Stanford University under the direction of Yash Saraf (linked above). The above video is a compilation of several different clips from this performance, but I want to comment on the scenes that were shown during the marked time above, scene 15 through the beginning of scene 17. The portrayal of Alan in this performance is very close to the way that I had imagined Alan. When he says that he’s “not making any more” tapes, I imagined him as challenging, defensive (48). Alan wants to be helped (he does record the tape after all), but he doesn’t want to admit that he wants this help. Also, he wants to protect himself; the vulnerability that giving the tape to Dysart brought him is not a position that he wants to return to. In this performance, he looks Dysart straight in the eyes, challenging him, trying to prove to himself that he’s strong and mighty despite the societal connotations of the help he’s seeking from Dysart. Dysart, however, is perfectly calm. His serenity is unwavering. When Alan says, “that’s stupid. Horses don’t talk,” his voice is snarky, daring (48). He’s trying to get a reaction out of Dysart. In this performance, the tone that Dysart responds with is, in my opinion, perfect. “Tell me something,” he says (skipping a few lines in the book version that we have), his voice light and entertained. Dysart hasn’t given up on Alan despite everyone else, which is important because he shows that Alan is lost, not crazy. The defensiveness, kindness, and vulnerability in these scenes are very human, which this particular performance does a really good job with. - Gabi Sussman
After finishing Act 1, I am still not certain of what this play is attempting to say. Is it saying that modern day society fails to suppress the primeval urges inherent in humanity, represented by Alan’s god Equus? Or is Dysart’s fascination with Alan and his horse obsession an allegory for how one can become enamored with insanity as an escape from the drudgery of ordinary routine? Is Alan just a weird dude, or is he supposed to symbolize something larger? So many questions! There is also a clear sexual element to Alan’s fascination with horses, which I think has something to do with Jill, the stable worker who Alan was with on the night he blinded the horses. Of course, that’s according to Frank, who seems to be a not completely trustworthy narrator. Also, can somebody talk like a normal person in this play without launching into a monologue about wanting to ride horses naked or carving open kids? Sometimes the obvious “metaphoricalness” of it all is annoying. Ethan Karas
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4_ibwCtwZgg This particular monologue comes from act 1 scene 13. I like this portrayal of Alan because it's pretty much how I pictured it while I was reading it. He seemed distraught and vulnerable. He revealed how he wishes he was as free as a cowboy. When he says "No one ever says to cowboys..." (44) I noticed that they skipped over the nurse and Dysart's lines in between this scene, which makes it flow better. He starts off calm but raises his voice and becomes more distraught throughout the monologue, and I think the actor did a good job portraying the different emotions of this scene.
The uniqueness of the play’s original stage composition has affected my reading of the play profoundly, along with the visual depiction of the horses. In the opening notes on the horses, their appearance is somewhere between comical and horrifying. Noted are “tracksuits of Chesnut velvet” and “light strutted hooves, about four inches high” (5). Set on the actors’ heads are “tough masks made of alternating bands of silver wire and leather… no attempt should be made to conceal” their heads (5). Almost like something out of the Silent Hill series, the horses are glowing specters, with a strong association to pain and dehumanization made through the inclusion of wire forming a cage rather than a mask. This painful contraption acts as a powerful reference point to Dysart’s comparisons between himself and horses. He lives “reigned up in old language and old assumptions, straining to jump clean-hoofed on to a whole new track of being … wearing that horse’s head” (10). If he is “wearing” the horse’s head at the opening of the story, the glowing masks serve to characterize it as psychologically painful. This, in addition to the stage composition, suggest strongly that the play is primarily a character study on Dysart and his profession, psychiatry opening larger conversations about normalcy and faith. I personally found his “mind palace,” the wooden circle and square, strange, but it helps characterize Alan, his parents, the Nurse, and Hesther as Dysart’s “props” that enter and depart to their “places” in his psyche. They add a surreal element to each memory he recounts.
In a note at the beginning of the play, Shaffer writes an elaborate and detailed description of how the horses are to be visually portrayed. He makes it very clear that it should be obvious that the horses are in fact human actors: “Any literalism which could suggest the cosy familiarity of a domestic animal–or worse, a pantomine horse–should be avoided” (5). I have been struggling to understand the importance of the human not being completely concealed by the horse costume. One reason that I thought of before finishing the play was perhaps to humanize the horses, which almost attempts to lessen the severity of Alan’s sexual acts/beastiality. However, after reading Equus completely, the horses are anything but humanized. They are not to even be perceived as animals, at least from Alan’s point of view. Equus is his God. Now, I am wondering if the specific costumes are simply to avoid any sense of over-the-top mimicry that could be seen as humorous. Does anyone else have input on this?
ReplyDeleteThe theme of the role of religion starts to emerge when Dysart visits Alan’s house. Alan’s mother, Dora, is a very religious woman who read the Bible to Alan when he was growing up. Whereas, Alan’s father, Frank, is an atheist. Frank believes that “bloody religion--it’s our only real problem in the house” (28). The different opinions of Alan’s parents on religion may have caused him to turn away from Christianity and atheism. For Alan, Equus is a god, and Equus is portrayed as a Christ-like figure. As much as Alan’s actions involving his worship to Equus are not socially acceptable, Dysart struggles with the morality of helping Alan become “normal” and questions if there is “ anything worse one can do to anybody than take away their worship” (79). Dysart wrestles with the fear that in helping Alan he will take away what something sacred to him.
ReplyDelete-Asha Grossberndt
https://youtu.be/lPaaSj8ClQ0 (3:33 - 7:27)
ReplyDeleteI watched several clips of a version of Equus that was staged at Stanford University under the direction of Yash Saraf (linked above). The above video is a compilation of several different clips from this performance, but I want to comment on the scenes that were shown during the marked time above, scene 15 through the beginning of scene 17. The portrayal of Alan in this performance is very close to the way that I had imagined Alan. When he says that he’s “not making any more” tapes, I imagined him as challenging, defensive (48). Alan wants to be helped (he does record the tape after all), but he doesn’t want to admit that he wants this help. Also, he wants to protect himself; the vulnerability that giving the tape to Dysart brought him is not a position that he wants to return to. In this performance, he looks Dysart straight in the eyes, challenging him, trying to prove to himself that he’s strong and mighty despite the societal connotations of the help he’s seeking from Dysart. Dysart, however, is perfectly calm. His serenity is unwavering. When Alan says, “that’s stupid. Horses don’t talk,” his voice is snarky, daring (48). He’s trying to get a reaction out of Dysart. In this performance, the tone that Dysart responds with is, in my opinion, perfect. “Tell me something,” he says (skipping a few lines in the book version that we have), his voice light and entertained. Dysart hasn’t given up on Alan despite everyone else, which is important because he shows that Alan is lost, not crazy. The defensiveness, kindness, and vulnerability in these scenes are very human, which this particular performance does a really good job with.
- Gabi Sussman
After finishing Act 1, I am still not certain of what this play is attempting to say. Is it saying that modern day society fails to suppress the primeval urges inherent in humanity, represented by Alan’s god Equus? Or is Dysart’s fascination with Alan and his horse obsession an allegory for how one can become enamored with insanity as an escape from the drudgery of ordinary routine? Is Alan just a weird dude, or is he supposed to symbolize something larger? So many questions! There is also a clear sexual element to Alan’s fascination with horses, which I think has something to do with Jill, the stable worker who Alan was with on the night he blinded the horses. Of course, that’s according to Frank, who seems to be a not completely trustworthy narrator. Also, can somebody talk like a normal person in this play without launching into a monologue about wanting to ride horses naked or carving open kids? Sometimes the obvious “metaphoricalness” of it all is annoying.
ReplyDeleteEthan Karas
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4_ibwCtwZgg
ReplyDeleteThis particular monologue comes from act 1 scene 13. I like this portrayal of Alan because it's pretty much how I pictured it while I was reading it. He seemed distraught and vulnerable. He revealed how he wishes he was as free as a cowboy. When he says "No one ever says to cowboys..." (44) I noticed that they skipped over the nurse and Dysart's lines in between this scene, which makes it flow better. He starts off calm but raises his voice and becomes more distraught throughout the monologue, and I think the actor did a good job portraying the different emotions of this scene.
The uniqueness of the play’s original stage composition has affected my reading of the play profoundly, along with the visual depiction of the horses. In the opening notes on the horses, their appearance is somewhere between comical and horrifying. Noted are “tracksuits of Chesnut velvet” and “light strutted hooves, about four inches high” (5). Set on the actors’ heads are “tough masks made of alternating bands of silver wire and leather… no attempt should be made to conceal” their heads (5). Almost like something out of the Silent Hill series, the horses are glowing specters, with a strong association to pain and dehumanization made through the inclusion of wire forming a cage rather than a mask. This painful contraption acts as a powerful reference point to Dysart’s comparisons between himself and horses. He lives “reigned up in old language and old assumptions, straining to jump clean-hoofed on to a whole new track of being … wearing that horse’s head” (10). If he is “wearing” the horse’s head at the opening of the story, the glowing masks serve to characterize it as psychologically painful.
ReplyDeleteThis, in addition to the stage composition, suggest strongly that the play is primarily a character study on Dysart and his profession, psychiatry opening larger conversations about normalcy and faith. I personally found his “mind palace,” the wooden circle and square, strange, but it helps characterize Alan, his parents, the Nurse, and Hesther as Dysart’s “props” that enter and depart to their “places” in his psyche. They add a surreal element to each memory he recounts.
-Patrick Ortiz