Some would say the title of Krapp's Last Tape is indicative of its merit. Certainly, my classmates in my comparative literature class would. After a lengthy explanation of the play's background - absurdism, post-modernist theater, the despair of the 20th century - we watched the beginning of a film version with John Hurt as the 69 year old Krapp.
Not five seconds had passed before the uncomfortable giggling began. I looked around - was this high school French, where my classmates had launched proclamations of disbelief and confusion at the highly fantastic French films we watched during finals weeks. Laughing at what we didn't understand, whose presence made us uncomfortable.
Now, in university where the youth of America willingly come to educate themselves, it was the same. Shifting in their seats. Playing catch with the word, "awkward." Mockery of the actor for sitting there - "Great actor right here," "Grammy* for this guy!" - when I would consider the lack of action to be indicative of his talent. Complete and immediate dismissal once the piece had failed to entertain.
"It's so hard to teach American students European theater," murmurs my professor. Oddly enough, we are covering similar pieces in my upper division French class, and my classmates there are respectful of the work. Our discussions make me go, "oh," and bring the philosophy of each work into the present. It's wonderful and almost convinces me to stay here. Perhaps it comes with age.
Respect. I try to give at least that to everything I read, watch, or hear. Because someone put in effort, and to them it is the most important thing in the world. Would you mock someone's baby?
...You are terrible. I've been frustrated by my peers' lack of respect and awareness for difference, and frustrated when I have found it in myself. Why does the world keep returning to those old wars, we say, we desensitized American children who have never experienced war in our homes - or rather, we have, in plastic boxes - for whom war is a story and a reason for mind-blowing explosion sequences.
Sit still for a second - someone's trying to tell you something, and your initial discomfort only hints that it'll pull you out of your shell. Follow them down the rabbit hole and save your doubts for the end. Don't cast early judgement. You might miss out on something amazingly eye-opening.
*Grammy's are for music, idiot.
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