Within or without a theatrical context, race is a flexible, historically and socially constructed interpretation of biological data (Schechner, p. 6). Within the semiotically codified world of theatrical performance, the matter is complicated even further. Color-blind casting is not a new convention. Within our very own Torontonian melting pot, it seems like an increasingly common practice on both the professional and non-professional stage. What exactly does “color-blind” casting MEAN? The term seems to resist the rigidity of definition. Simply deconstructed, it seems to suggest that race, when casting a show, doesn’t matter. When something doesn’t matter, it is negligible. When something is negligible, it doesn’t mean anything of significance. In an instance of neologistic difference, meaning is constantly deferred. All things considered, can one soundly say that race means nothing? I would venture to suggest that it means quite a lot. The terms “Black”, “White”, Asian” are laden with cultural stigmas, interpretations, and historical bearings. And what constitutes a blindness to an actor’s race? In negotiating the performance-reception relationship, color-blind casting would require a color-blind audience. Audiences enter the theatrical context with an arsenal of expectations, based on their familiarity with the text or the theme of a performance, as well as their own personal experiences with race relations. The reception, therefore, cannot be determined by the production. Expecting them to somehow suppress decades of cultural and historical race signifiers seems somewhat naïve.
One could suppose that the theatrical reception also changes based upon the level of accessibility an audience member has to the performance. For example, if one is familiar with the text or political context of a performance, race is likely to have more bearing on their reception of the performance. If one did not know that Napoleon was a white French military and political leader, having him played in a performance by an Asian actor probably wouldn’t furrow their brow in thought.
All musings aside, I must recall my own recent reception of a color-blind casting choice. Soulpepper’s 2007 production of Schiller’s “Mary Stuart” featured Yanna MacIntosh, a black Canadian actress, in the title role. Being familiar with both the play and the historical context, I can recall my initial reactions:
a) “Mary Queen of Scots was not black…” I check my own personal Brittanica. There’s no historical clause I’ve forgotten.
b) “Was there a reason behind the casting choice?” Being historically inaccurate, I feel like the artistic value of the casting choice should be justified. I look at the program momentarily. Maybe there’s a note.
c) “Who’s the director?” The identity of the director becomes my first avenue for understanding. Maybe I’m familiar with his past works. I see that it’s Joseph Zeigler. That doesn’t explain much.
A few minutes later…
d) “Wow…Yanna MacIntosh is really good…I’m enjoying this…” Though I was momentarily distracted and taken out of the narrative in my search for understanding, the competence of the actress seems to eclipse my preoccupation with the casting choice.
That being said, the color-blind casting choice was the FIRST note in my little spiral-bound book. Before the set, before the costumes, I noticed the actress. Of all the artistic choices, the race of the actress read as the most prominent.
I place myself in the shoes of the actress. Comparatively, if I were to be cast in Trey Anthony’s “Da Kink in my Hair”, what would my ultimate goal as a performer be? Would I have to make it a white role, or adopt a set of constructed mannerisms that somehow signify that I am supposed to be received as a representation of a Carribean-Canadian woman? The latter seems fraught with artifice, and a choice I would probably refuse. Identically, the first also seems like a drastic thematic departure from the script. I feel it would no longer be the same show. Unlike Japanese Kabuki, western theatre doesn’t traditionally rely on codes of performative behaviour that are distinctly separable from the codes of behaviour in everyday life. There seems to be no real resolution as what to communicate. As Uta Hagen tells her acting students, “What is it you want me to believe?” (Stevn, p.3)
I place myself in the shoes of the director. In casting theatre where roles are written as race-specific, what would be my reasoning be in placing an actor of a conflicting race in the role? Perhaps the actor’s high level of skill was the determining factor. Either way, I would have to recognize one factor: the choice I make would unavoidably be opening a dialogue between the text, the performer, and the spectator, widening spaces between each that encourages re-examination of the text and performance. Perhaps this would fall into Brecht’s technique of “Verfremdung”, rendering unfamiliar that which is simultaneously familiar. This dialogue will occur, whether or not it is desired. The objective, perhaps, would be to institute it in a way that works to the benefit of the production and the subsequent discussion of it.
Many like to reside within the comfortable, non-specific gray area when it comes to the topic of color-blind casting, resisting the violence of choice. The most prominent name that comes to mind in choosing one side of the fence is African American playwright August Wilson, who in stood in strong opposition of color-blind casting, calling the practice enfeebling to the black spirit and decreeing that African-American actors could only play African-American roles (Schechner, p. 14). While few are as vocal as Wilson, it may be interesting to examine some of the reasons for or against the institution of color-blind casting:
Pros/Defenses
- It enables actors of ethnic minorities the chance to play roles they would other wise not be considered for. This is especially relevant to companies who tend to produce works from the modernist cannon of Western theatre, where ethnically scripted roles are scarce.
- It is representative of the multi-cultural society in which we live, and promotes equality within the arts. (An argument here could be the fact that multi-cultural society is inherently racist, and color-blind casting is therefore not representative of society)
- It’s ACTING. It’s about portraying something that you’re not. Just like costuming or layers of grease paint, the race of the actor doesn’t matter. It’s what they represent and how well they represent it that does.
- Race is not the ultimate defining factor of a character. Is the be all and end all of Macbeth the fact that he be white Scotsman? (Stevn, p.2) Perhaps not.
- It facilitates a discussion of theatre in a political and cultural context, rendering new audiences, especially ethnic minorities, for theatre that would otherwise not have them in attendance.
Cons/Objections
- As was before mentioned, it is naïve and utopian. Color-blind casting requires a color-blind audience, which doesn’t exist.
- It renders historically or politically based plays and characters inaccurate, and subsequently distracts from the narrative.
- It can change the thematic concerns of a play, as the socio-political or cultural-historical constructs that the race of a character signifies can be interpreted as something completely foreign to the initial concept of the director or playwright.
- It attempts to reduce race to a set of physical and vocal mannerisms that can be adopted by an actor of a different race in some instances. Subsequently, it can unintentionally reinforce racial stereotypes in considering race a performance.
The Grey Area
Those who choose this category tend to express instances when color-blind casting does “work”:
- It works when the story of a racially-scripted or historically based play is adapted to suit another context. I immediately think of Orson Welles and his adaptation of Macbeth, where the story was moved to Haiti at the court of King Henri Christophe and played by an all black cast. A more local example would be the Scottish adaptation of Michel Tremblay’s Les Belle Soeurs, where the French Canadian dialect of joual had been translated into the Scottish dialect of Glaswegian, and the scripted rendition of “O Canada” at the end was replaced with “God Save the Queen” as parallel symbol of submission to oppression (Stev, p.3).
- It works where the race of the characters is undefined in the script. One could suppose that this encompasses much of Shakespeare as well.
- It works if it supports the underlying dramaturgical theme of the production. According to its American producer David Stone, the musical “Wicked”, for example, employs color-blind casting as the thematic concern of the show centers around the timeless axiom of “ it’s what’s on the inside that counts, your true character” (Waldren, p.56)
On this theme of the universality of themes in playwrighting, where it is the human experience that is relevant as opposed to the racial experience of a character, South-Asian Canadian actress Nazneen Contractor, a player on the Shakespearian Stratford stage, offers a supporting opinion of first-hand experience in a 2004 interview with Nirali Magazine:
“I don’t want to call it racism, but it’s hard for some to see someone Chinese saying Shakespeare; it’s not in their perspective. I think that’s complete baloney. I think that if you train someone and they bring something to the role, then that’s good. I think it’s important that someone Indian—a woman, and young—is speaking Shakespeare. Hopefully it will open the door to others. You can’t change people’s minds but you can hopefully open them.” And while many of her past roles have been as women of East Indian or Middle Eastern descent, Contractor doesn’t think that her ethnic background has typecast or hindered her. “It doesn’t really bother me, because I’m new to the profession and want to get my foot in the door. I’ll take anything I can get, as long as it doesn’t compromise my dignity. It would only bother me if they said, ‘We’d love you for the lead role but your skin is too dark, so we’d like you to play a convenience store clerk.’
Playing Hermia, one of the leads in A Midsummer Night’s Dream, is especially meaningful for Contractor because she identifies with the character. “There’s a lot of me in Hermia: She’s tough, but a little spoiled, she’s very emotional and passionate, and I love playing her. Every moment that Hermia feels in the play I have felt in my life in some context. I’ve had a boyfriend whom my parents disapproved of; that’s the tragedy and injustice you feel when you’re younger I think anyone can relate to.” ( Kamath, p.2-3)
Contractor, in the Shakespearian context, is a proponent of the universality of dramaturgical themes. The nature of Shakespeare’s characters themselves, and whether or not to disregard the historical time period and English culture in which they were written is opening another can of dramaturgical worms.
While I’m well aware of the fact that the discussion I’ve provided is only the tip of the proverbial ice-berg in the debate over color-blind casting, I feel obliged to agree with the conclusion that author Ayanna Thompson offers in her book “Colorblind Shakespeare: New Perspectives on Race and Performance”
“The practice of colorblind casting cannot resolve or overcome the larger societal tensions in which they are enmeshed. Instead, the various and often contradictory practices of color-blind casting merely replicate the anxieties our society has about defining race (Thompson, p.8)”
Just like every other signifier in the theatrical code of performance, race cannot be ignored. Ultimately, the power of choice lies within the theatrical receiver. There may be no right or wrong answer.
Works Cited
Kamath, Deepa. “Love’s Labour’s Found.” Nirali (2004): 1-4.
Schechner, Richard. “Race-Free, Gender-Free, Body-Type Free, Age-Free Casting.” TDR, 33, 1 (1989): 4-12.
Stevn, Mark. “A Lose-Lose Proposition.” The New Criterion, 15 (2007): 46-51.
Thompson, Ayanna. Colorblind Shakespeare: New Perspectives on Race and Performance. New York (2006): Taylor and Francis Group.
Waldren, Clarence. “Hit Musical 'Wicked' Casts Blacks In Roles Not Defined By Race.” Jet, 112, 13 (2007): 56.
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