Young Jean Lee takes a fresh and unique approach to her work.

Young Jean Lee takes a fresh and unique approach to her work.

What’s better than a good show that’s named after the same thing we talk about in all of our Core classes? Our acting Aficionado sat down with Young Jean Lee, whose new play “Straight White Men” is scheduled to come out next month.

“OH MY GOD” “OH GOD” “He absolutely wouldn’t say that. It’s so wrong for who he is. It’s just too passive. He would get in there. He would say ‘fuck you,’ not just sit there saying Jake, Jake.” “Honestly, I have seen that so much. I have seen guys, who want to make sure everyone knows they don’t support something, but who don’t actually want to get involved. So they voice their dissent from the sidelines and never do anything.” Young Jean Lee looks between the two, considering each in turn. “Now this is interesting. You’re sure he wouldn’t act like this; you’re sure he would. What makes you sure?” It’s the end of the night and we’ve just watched a scene performed by four white ‘actors,’ drawn from the audience. Now we’re debating the script. “Look I know straight white guys. This is what a straight white guy would do.”

Ms. Lee is a playwright. Time Out New York considers her to be “one of the best experimental playwrights in America”, but then The New York Times has only described her as “the most adventurous downtown playwright of her generation.” Tonight she is introduced as a former Columbia artist in residence. In town to prepare for the November premiere of her play “Straight White Men,” Lee took some time to talk about her work—past and future—describe her approach, and give us a chance to take part in her process.

Young Jean Lee in many ways represents writing at its newest. Her style could most often be described as what she calls artistic anarchy, and she never wants her audience to be too comfortable. She employs unconventional elements and structure; “Straight White Men” is actually her first traditional three-act play, and only because she believes it reflects the content of the show (the three-act play is the ‘straight white man’ of theater productions). Most importantly, Lee sees herself as the catalyst of the writing process, not its originator. She holds auditions for a show before she’s written its script, looking for stage presence and “overwhelming charisma.” Her first rehearsal is a discussion with the actors cast about what they know, what they want to express, and ultimately what they want the show to be. She goes home, putting pages of script together based on those conversations, and brings them in the next day to talk about, starting the process anew. Over the course of weeks, and then months, these pages become something very honest, very personal, and something markedly different.

Through this lens, Ms. Lee considers privilege, focusing her attention on race and gender, the assumptions that surround them, and the perspectives that give rise to and perpetuate those assumptions. A new approach to writing might be the best way to address this topic, traditional media sometimes coming close to but arguably never quite reaching a level of true understanding.

After a brief panel discussion between Ms. Lee and David Milch, Associate Director of Student Engagement and tonight’s moderator, the audience enthusiastically, and spontaneously, posed questions of their own. A crowd drawn largely from the Columbia theater community brought up some technical questions: “how would you describe your aesthetic?” The majority however, involved the delicate nature of Lee’s approach. Examining races and genders that are not her own, how can Lee know when she’s getting it right? How can she know when she’s gone too far?

Ms. Lee places enormous emphasis on turning power of the discussion over to those she’s working with. She hopes to “serve their voices,” not amplify her own. In what became a theme for the night, Lee talked early on about her belief that the stigma of writing outside what you know comes from a failure of writers to take the time to listen. Beyond just letting her actors drive the process, she also gives them total veto power. Anything that feels wrong to them, anything they don’t feel will work, is gone. In order to achieve not just an open dialogue but a work of any significance, Lee must have the humility to turn over much of the power traditionally assigned to her role. A parallel might be drawn to the themes of her work.

As the night continues the audience grows more comfortable. Ms. Lee has a way of drawing the audience out, establishing implicitly a climate of respect. Some discuss their reactions to her characters—“I just want [Matt, a titular straight, white man] to be successful without harming anyone!”  Others talk about how they could personally related to Lee and her work—“Maybe I don’t want to be a voice [of my culture]. At the same time I don’t want to take a spot someone else could have.” Towards the very end, we perform and analyze scenes. We decide to drop a stated ‘haha’ and put in a new line. We debate the passivity of a character and the merits of a monologue. As we discuss what these straight white men should do, it slowly becomes apparent what we think these straight white men are.

Young Jean Lee in many ways represents writing at its oldest. No matter how innovative or unconventional the trappings, at its heart her art gives the audience a glimpse into another perspective, a world outside their own. Sometimes through entertainment, sometimes through provocation, she convinces them to reflect on a view they might otherwise reject or ignore.

“Straight White Men” premieres November 7, at The Public.

Opening transcript paraphrased.

Photo via Columbia University Arts Initiative publicity materials.