Should we consider Ovidian form as a subcategory of Aristotelian form? Even Sarah Ruhl, in describing other forms in relation to the Ovidian, notes that change and transformation exists in “most dramatic forms”. (Ruhl) So is her most recent staging of “Orlando” a blending of these two forms, using the pleasure of transformation from one and the plot structureing from the other? Perhaps we should balk at classifying this work as fully and only one thing and take that “pleasure of transformation” in this work’s ability to be both things without clashing with or rejecting itself. Is that not who the character of Orlando is? Should not his/her/their story also be able to do the same?
“Orlando” does follow Ovidian form as defined by Sarah Ruhl. Yet, she defines that Ovidian form as a rejection of Aristotle’s plot structure. If we are defining Aristotle’s unity of the plot (beginning, middle, end, etc) as an ethical form (dependent on creating a good citizen through the method of a catharsis of pity and fear only) then “Orlando” is most definitely not that. The audience instead is invited to see ourselves as part of the play. The stage itself is not designed as a separation from the audience; it is a theater, it is a rehearsal space. This is a space devoid of all illusions. Telling us subtlysubtlelty that transformation is not an illusion, instead “it is the sort that imitates dreams or the unconscious.” (Ruhl) Transformation in “Orlando ” is merely a mysterious process of which by removing the illusions expected within a theater makes it both more plain and everyday, but also all the more miraculous for happening without sleight of hand. What we see here is as true as anything else.
Let us make some assumptions about what makes Ovidian form a unique element at play within Orlando. Perhaps, it is not about the before, during and after as is found in the plot. Instead it could be more clearly seen when looking towards the space and the treatment of roles within the space, the usage of props, /costumes, and /materials.
At one point Orlando and Sasha enter the audience and watch a play amongst us. ( This is a moment of pointedness of the topic.) From the start we have all been in any and all roles in the space, fluidly moving between audience, player, performer, crew. The door to the audience is open and the door to backstage is open suggesting an exchange of sameness between us. We can see them getting ready and they can see us getting ready. Both to play our roles. We are all collaborating in the process of the making of the piece. That same fluidity is visible in the treatment of the crew. To vacuum the fake snow during intermission the crew member is fully visible, performing for us. We have to ask questions like: are those pink foot coverings a costume or just a practical requirement? Or: is that vintage red vacuum acquired for this show in particular, or just something that the theater has for cleaning? Why not both? These choices are intentional and to let them be plainly seen is to make a statement on how every person in the space is part performer and part many other things.
Even looking at the source material, it is modern but also old, freshly re-adapted from a play from a book. This version of Orlando is existing in several times at once when we are looking at the history of production. The dialogue is more reminiscent of Elizabethan theater and reminds me of seeing Shakespeare performed. The types of jokes told, and even the reliance on physical comedy feel styled in this Shakespearean method. You can see it in the way the throne is a rolling chair where the queen’s dress doesn’t fit; she gets spun around or scoots on her toes to move around the stage. What a transformation from Virginia Woolf’s original writing (as she is not known for slapstick style comedy). This jumping and blending of time is also visible in the costuming. The pieces are designed to be added to or thrown off, dresses just insinuated by half skirts, gender gestured towards with the addition of wigs, brightly colored tracksuits as a base layer.
At the same time though, Ruhl herself describes Aristotelian form as a progression through “a logical series of cause and effect…one thing happens, so the next thing happens, so the next thing happens, so the climax happens, and so on.” (Ruhl) From here we can see that “Orlando” does have a beginning, a middle and an end and just because they fit with “before, during and after” transformation, that does not change that they fit the format structure as explored by Aristotle. Taking the audience through a journey from Orlando’s start of not knowing themselves to the conclusion in which they are finally able to write the poem they have been striving for for the length of the play. It’s shown through the usage of the tree prop, at the beginning it is small, at the end it is finally fully grown. Throughout though, it is human sized implying not just a journey for the tree but a journey on the human scale for Orlando. Yet, this play is also entirely focused on the pleasure of transformation, described as a story structure “reminiscent of fairy tales” in which “objects have magical properties, people transform, and the natural world is likewise transformative.” (Ruhl)
To be a distinct form must the Ovidian format be utterly different from other forms? I would say no. To focus on transformation, as this play so clearly does, is to reject the classification and rigid boundaries of any particular form. And here also is where “Orlando” shines, making a comedy from a drama, existing in all times at once while still progressing through time, making the crew’s cleaning materials into stage props, and making the audience into part of the show. Nothing is given boundaries and it allows us to flow back and forth, existing in all things at once while also following a plot. Every element of the show echoes Orlando’s own experience. We would be denying their journey if we tried to box the play into any individual method or style.
Bibliography
Barnes, Jonathan (ed.) 1984. Complete Works of Aristotle, Volume 2: The Revised Oxford Translation. Princeton University Press.
Ruhl, Sarah. 100 Essays I Don’t Have Time to Write: On Umbrellas and Sword Fights, Parades and Dogs, Fire Alarms, Children, and Theater. Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2014.
Originally written April 2024 for Explorations in the Arts at Hunter College. Previously unpublished.