Madison Ferris, Sally Field, and Joe Mantello in The Glass Menagerie (Photo by Julieta Cervantes)

Sam Gold’s production of Tennessee Williams’ The Glass Menagerie produced a wide range of critical responses when it opened last week, and that surely wasn’t unexpected. Based upon Gold’s 2015 staging for Toneelgroep Amsterdam, it is a radically deconstructed version of the play, different in look and feel than most (presumably) of those that came before it.

Where Gold’s staging likely differs from the vast majority of its predecessors is in the director’s decision to cast Madison Ferris, an actor with a mobility disability (in her case deriving from muscular dystrophy) in the role of Laura. Williams’ text certainly made clear that Laura had a mobility disability, but it has been traditionally played with a limp, or perhaps a leg brace.

Ferris uses a wheelchair, on stage and in daily life. There is no question that the physicality of Laura in this version is different than what Williams’ described, but so is much of the production. The casting of Ferris, like any other element of the production, is certainly fair game for critical consideration. But some of the language that emerged in critics’ efforts to talk about Ferris’ performance is striking.

We read that Laura, or the actor who plays her, is “physically challenged”. She has a “physical handicap”. She is “wheelchair-bound”. She “suffers” from muscular dystrophy. That these terms are largely eschewed by the disability community, which finds such terminology patronizing, insulting, archaic, misinformed or some combination of all four, seems to have escaped many writers (these examples are all from different reviews, from major outlets) and their editors.

Another review, after explaining how Ferris negotiates a set of steps with some help from other actors, describes the act as “an agonizing process, painful to watch, and a forceful symbol of the physical burden Amanda has to shoulder”. Still another wonders, “Why is Ferris’ disease called upon to generate a spectacle?” One critic says that the casting “blurs the boundary between character and actress.”

Performers with visible disabilities are rarely seen in the commercial world of Broadway, with notable exceptions being the Deaf West Theatre productions of Big River (2003) and Spring Awakening (2015), the latter casting Broadway’s first wheelchair-using actor. So the unfamiliarity that arts journalists now display regarding how they write, or speak, about disability is perhaps understandable, but that doesn’t excuse it.

To declare someone with a disability a burden on their parents, no matter the circumstance, is judgmental ableism. Does a disability that blurs the line between actor and role blur it in some undefined way that all other acting performances manage to escape? How can someone be “wheelchair-bound” in a production where the actor and character regularly move in and out of the chair?

While most, but not all, of the quotes above are from negative notices, they demonstrate the degree to which the writers are perhaps uninformed about or uncomfortable with disability. It reveals much more about them than about the production, displaying their lack of personal experience and perhaps even their fear of disability and people with disabilities.

In a week when British audiences have learned that Mat Fraser will play Richard III, and a call has gone out in the US theatre community seeking an actress of color with a mobility disability for yet another Glass Menagerie, artists with disabilities and those who advocate for them (and until recently, I was employed as the latter) have reason to be encouraged. But arts journalists owe it to the artists they cover, and the audiences for whom they report, to get up to speed with language surrounding disability. They can like what they see or not, but perhaps they would do well to avoid giving (often significant) offense where, I would hope, none is intended.

This post originally appeared in The Stage newspaper.

One of the many achievements of Ira Glass’s This American Life is that it is a longform approach to storytelling, whether personal or reportorial. By not dumbing down, by not sound-biting, it has become one of the most acclaimed and honored radio programs of this generation, and has turned Glass himself into a well-recognized individual, both by voice and face. As a purveyor of subtlety, nuance, compassion and depth, Glass has connected with a significant community that is desirous of something greater than the clamor of most of what we consume in the media.

So I was very disappointed to discover these tweets this morning:

If there had been only a single tweet dissing Shakespeare, I might have let it pass. But the fact that Glass doubled down makes it worthy of comment. That holds true even if Glass isn’t particularly skilled at Twitter, and didn’t realize that his tweet to John Lithgow was a public message, instead of a private missive. But with his more than 83,000 Twitter followers, and his position as an influential figure in the media, it’s worth taking a moment to respond to what Glass wrote.

I hope that, had it not been 12:15 am, Glass might have realized that perhaps what he wanted to say was, “I, Ira Glass, don’t like Shakespeare. I don’t find his work relatable.” That’s a Twitter-friendly message, and while it’s one which might surprise me, it’s one with which I couldn’t quibble. He could have simply added “IMHO” (that’s “In My Humble Opinion” in social media speak).

I should share that, like many who go to the theatre a great deal, I have a level of Shakespeare fatigue, especially with the parade of Macbeths and Lears we’ve had in New York over the past few years. But, the fatigue for me is play by play; I don’t think anything would keep me from a reasonable diet of well-done Much Ados and Twelfth Nights, such is the pleasure I find in those plays.

Clarke Peters & John Lithgow in King Lear (photo: Joan Marcus)

I’ve never studied Shakespeare in any structured way, so it would be very difficult for me to make the intellectual and educational argument on behalf of the Bard. But there are literally thousands of books and professors and even autodidacts who would happily do so, and I have a strong suspicion that Glass is going to be hearing from them as today wears on.

I’ll just take a moment to suggest that, perhaps, Glass doesn’t fully understand, smart as he certainly is, the difference between a play and a production. Shakespeare provides the words of what he’s seen, but each interpretation varies. Perhaps he hasn’t seen Shakespeare productions that illuminate the words in ways that speak directly to him. Trust me, I know that there are plenty of those. That said, maybe he’ll never like any of the plays, no matter how they’re done. Never ever.

Mark Rylance as Richard III

I haven’t seen Lithgow’s Lear yet (it just started performances last week, by the way) and to be honest, if it weren’t for John (and for Jessica Hecht), I doubt I’d be going. I liked The Globe Theatre’s Twelfth Night with Mark Rylance rather well, though I didn’t care for the Richard III. But the fact is, I’d really be perfectly content to not see Richard III ever again. I don’t care for the play, an opinion forged over many productions, but I certainly don’t dismiss it. I’d look very foolish if I did.

Don’t think I’m trying to make the case for Shakespeare all the time. Our theatres need much more variety, even if school curriculums insure steady group sales for Shakespeare productions, and even if the lack of royalty costs makes them slightly more economical (balanced to some degree by their cast size, though I’ve seen the plays done on occasion with casts as small as five). It’s just that this sweeping generalization from someone who seems such advocate of the arts – and of considered thought and messaging – strikes me unfortunate, since it reinforces the prejudices of others, and even justifies them.

Look I get it, we all don’t like the same things, and frankly, when we’re told it’s good for us, we’re probably even less inclined to like something. We might also be hype-averse, from being told something is the best ever, part of the common online lexicon these days, but also the opinion of many when it comes to Shakespeare. And no matter what the build-up, no matter how much exposure we do or don’t get, there are creative endeavors we each don’t like, for whatever reason. Irrevocably. And that’s O.K.

I will ceaselessly defend Ira Glass’s right to publicly and vocally dislike Shakespeare. But as someone whose voice is amplified and respected, I just wish he’d said that he was sharing his opinion, not declaring an absolute.

Addendum, July 28, 5:45 pm: I just learned that Ira Glass was asked by Entertainment Weekly whether he stands by last night’s anti-Shakespeare tweets. His response: “That was kind of an off-the-cuff thing to say that in the cold light of day, I’m not sure I can defend at all.” So why say anything at all, Ira? He has not, however, sent any further tweets at this point on the subject to suggest that he might have been off the mark.

Rylance’s Richard III

When it comes to Shakespeare, not all plays are created equal. That’s far from a surprise to anyone who pays attention; Hamlet certainly ranks far ahead of King John in the canon, and even Coriolanus and Timon of Athens get more attention than Pericles. A great deal of this situation in recent years, at least in the U.S., is attributable to the educational curriculum, which has a strong hand in creating the “greatest hits.” The hierarchy is also a product of performers’ aspirations, and I daresay that when asked what Shakespeare roles they’d like to play, actors respond more frequently with Lear and Rosalind than Henry VIII and the Countess of Roussillon.

Rylance in Twelfth Night

The choices for the current Shakespeare plays in repertory on Broadway are among the more familiar titles, but they take on novelty for being all-male casts and indeed for being in rotating rep. Had it not been for the coincidence of a competing rep of Waiting For Godot and No Man’s Land in the same season, the Shakespeares would have been the only shows in rep on Broadway since the mid-90s. A key selling point in the Shakespeare rep is actor Mark Rylance, playing Olivia in Twelfth Night (or Twelfe Night as they’re spelling it in ads) and the title role in King Richard The Third.  After his triumphs in Boeing Boeing, La Bête and Jerusalem, one suspects the audiences would flock to anything Rylance chose to perform, except perhaps those poems he reads as award acceptance speeches.

The January calendar of Twelfth Night and Richard III

So while it’s hardly the discovery of a shocking secret, I was surprised today to discover that the Shakespeare rep doesn’t treat its productions as equals: in general there are six weekly performances of Twelfth Night and only two of Richard III. The producers (and perhaps Mr. Rylance) have decided that the market will bear plenty of comedy and not so much tragedy, with the added bonus that Stephen Fry appears only in the comedy, and for some of us, he’s a big draw too. They also may be saving a few dollars by making fewer set changeovers, since labor costs money.

I can’t say that I wouldn’t have lobbied for the same balance, if I’d had a say in the matter. I happen to have a great love for Twelfth Night, due to it having been the first play I worked on when I started at Hartford Stage in 1985. As for Richard III, even though I’ve seen terrific productions with Ian McKellen and Richard Thomas, among others, I always feel a bit lost in the constant realignment of loyalties throughout the play, and I rarely walk away having had an emotional experience, even as I might appreciate the talent on stage. Indeed, my college roommate, who has been my Shakespeare wingman for some three decades, was befuddled when I refused to see Richard III at BAM last year; I just didn’t feel like it and he wasn’t going to change my mind (he took his mother-in-law). By the way, I should note I have not yet seen the current Broadway shows.

Shakespeare scholars and Rylance buffs may be dismayed to learn of this programming imbalance. The former might not cotton to the elevation of a comedy over a history, but the latter may just be realizing that if they wish to be Rylance completists, they’d better hustle up on getting tickets, because the Richard III inventory is much scarcer than the seats for Twelfth Night.  As for whether there’s a deeper meaning to favoring one play over the other beyond gauging the marketplace, I leave that for the academics to debate.

P.S. Waiting for Godot and No Man’s Land each play four shows a week. Make of that, you should pardon the expression, What You Will.

Macbeth. Twelfth Night. Richard III. Romeo and Juliet. No Man’s Land. Waiting For Godot. Betrayal. The Winslow Boy.

The syllabus for a university survey course in drama? No. Instead, it’s the roster of eight of the 16 titles scheduled to open on Broadway between now and the end of 2013.

To be sure, British plays, artists and productions haven’t ever been strangers to Broadway, but this preponderance of works – featuring actors such as Jude Law, Mark Rylance, Rachel Weisz, Daniel Craig, Anne-Marie Duff, Stephen Fry, Orlando Bloom, Roger Rees, Ian McKellen and Patrick Stewart – in the 40 theatres that comprise Broadway, all at the same time, is an embarrassment of riches. Add in concurrent Off-Broadway productions of A Midsummer Night’s Dream with David Harewood and Kathryn Hunter (opening the new Theatre for a New Audience space in Brooklyn) and Michael Gambon and Eileen Atkins in All That Fall, and it appears that Anglophilia is running rampant in the playhouses of New York.

Much of this is coincidence, since it’s not as if producers conspire on themes. Indeed, from a marketing standpoint, it’s not necessarily even a good idea, since the theatregoers most drawn to this work may have to face some tough buying decisions unless they have unlimited resources and time. Cultural tourists won’t even be able to fit all of these terrific sounding shows in, should they fly to the city for merely a long weekend.

But whether the productions are transfers from the UK or newly minted in America, as is the case with No Man’s Land, Romeo and Juliet, and Betrayal, the British imprimatur seems as if it’s a requirement this year, even if only in part. UK director David Leveaux is staging Romeo and Juliet with a North American cast capped by Bloom. US director Julie Taymor tapped Harewood and Hunter for A Midsummer Night’s Dream, her first project since the highly-publicised and contentious Spiderman: Turn Off The Dark (a tell-all book by her collaborator Glen Berger will be released just as Midsummer performances begin). Even the US classic The Glass Menagerie is being helmed by John Doyle. Only Classic Stage Company’s Romeo and Juliet, with Elizabeth Olsen and TR Knight, is wholly comprised of American artists, though their Romeo is Japan-born.

The English theatre can certainly take pride in this abundance of talent exported to American shores, and I look forward to each and every one of these shows enthusiastically. Indeed, I’ll pass on my annual autumn trip to London since I’ll need only take the subway and not British Airways.

But it does beg the question of whether classical work can succeed on Broadway without a UK connection. Are producers giving up on our best American actors and directors taking on British and Irish pieces without at least some of that heritage in the shows’ DNA? To be sure, not-for-profit companies may lean American overall (LCT’s Macbeth is Ethan Hawke), but has public television conditioned us to desire the “genuine” article? Great American plays appear on British stages frequently, ranging from A View From The Bridge to Fences to Clybourne Park, without the perpetual need to import Americans, let alone the cream of American talent, to make them work. Yet the power of UK casting appears to be such that even multiple Macbeths are deemed economically viable, with Alan Cumming having played virtually all of the roles on Broadway only months ago and Kenneth Branagh due at the Park Avenue Armory in June 2014.

I don’t like calling attention to national divisions when it comes to art, but the fall theatre season in New York simply can’t be overlooked. Despite the luxury of all of the great theatre on tap, the timing sends the message to US actors, theatre students, critics and audiences that when it comes to staging foreign classics, the talent exchange flows more strongly from west to east than in the other direction.

But looking on the bright side, perhaps this means we’ll soon enjoy one more benefit of the English stage, and be able to buy ice cream at the interval.