To Change and Be Changed

I did the volunteer usher gig over at the performing arts center on Sunday. The show was Neil Labute’s The Shape of Things. So it was all about butterflies and blue skies and everybody ends up happily ever after. Yeah, right. No it was the usual “sociopaths on parade” that you get from Labute. But interesting as usual, in a car crash of humanity sort of way.

[And as a side note, watching that much emotional turmoil as close as you are in the theater’s black box space is really wrenching. Even past my usual phobia about being too close to the actors – which is creepy. But watching some poor guy get pounded like a piece of flank steak 10 feet away is pretty traumatic. Don’t know if I’ll usher for any of the other plays in the cycle.]

The discussion group afterwards was supposed to be about whether what the lead female character creates is really art. [SPOILER ALERT – this kind of gives the game away if you ever want to see the show yourself] Because basically what she does is sculpt another human being into a more attractive version of himself. In a completely deceptive, venal and sociopathic way (it is Labute). And the question they posed was “Is that art?”

Frankly, I found the whole art thing to be a red herring. I think the play was really about change and love. One way to look at it was that the main character keeps changing so that the artist will keep sleeping with him. But another way is that he keeps changing so that she will keep changing him. When she walked into his life, he was kind of a miserable guy who didn’t like himself so much. And the changes she made gave him more confidence, and more ability to take charge of his life. In some ways, the people we love the most are the ones that change us the most. Make us see, feel and understand more. Make us new versions of ourselves.

In the best relationships (and this includes friends and family members as well as lovers), the changes are mutual and reciprocal. We change as much for them as they change for us. Of course in the play, it was a completely one-sided arrangement. He under went a metamorphosis, and fell deeply in love. She didn’t change at all for him. She walked in a cold-blooded manipulator, and walked out a cold-blooded manipulator (a real piranha that one). So, no, she did not love him. And that’s a lop-sided equation that’s always going to end in tears. Poor guy. And in some ways, lucky guy. To change, learn and grow is the best of what love is for. Even when it's painful.