This past March, Eastern University’s Friends of the Library presented the winner of the annual Jonathan Orr Essay Contest after receiving a record number of entries. This contest honors an Eastern alum named Jonathan Orr, whose family left an endowment to Friends of the Library in honor of Jonathan. Jonathan’s sister, Cynthia Orr Day, is a trustee emerita of Friends of the Library. A portion of the essay topic prompted, “Choosing a single film, or single movie director, or a group of interrelated films, explain how movies have had a profound impact on your spiritual and imaginative life.” The essays were judged by a panel from Friends of the Library. Micah Skinner won the contest, Morgan Binnix came in second and Abigail Durkovic came in third. The winners will soon be featured on Eastern’s library blog. Featured here is Skinner’s essay.

---

      “You can force your story’s shape but the color will always bloom upstream.”

      The above quote is a fairly innocuous line used in promotional materials for Shane Carruth’s second film, Upstream Color. At first glance, it appears like a typical vague pseudo-synopsis of a pretentious indie film. Instead, I’d like to argue that it encapsulates what makes Carruth a revolutionary and unparalleled filmmaker.

       Carruth has only made two major films, Primer in 2004, and Upstream Color in 2013, and it is the contrast between these two works that sets Carruth apart. Primer’s narrative is technically science fiction, but the “fantasy” elements are so subtle that the viewer doesn’t even realize they’re suspending disbelief about time travel. The logic of the film is meticulous, the narrative is dense, and understanding the plot arguably requires watching it twice with a whiteboard in hand. This is in no way an exaggeration. When I recommend the film to friends, I advise keeping a notebook handy throughout. Herein lies the beauty of the film: it refuses to hold your hand. Carruth’s films wholeheartedly go against the increasingly common trend of movies appealing to the “lowest common denominator” of audiences. There is minimal exposition, trusting his audience to connect the dots as to what isn’t being shown in the film. In doing so, he enables his audience to try and find the answers themselves through creating and discussing theories of their own. This makes the process thoroughly unstandardized, a perfect example of how movies can be a deeply personal art form.1

      Where Primer is an enigma of loops and circuits, filled with critical plot details that are only mentioned in passing, Upstream Color is a slow, surreal, and contemplative dance. One critic described it as “essentially a silent film, obsessed not just with color but with texture and movement and rhythm.”2 Primer is about the micro, the details, the math. Upstream Color is about the macro, the cycles of life, trauma, and humanity’s apathy regarding its own failing epistemology. Carruth states in a Q&A that in Upstream Color “so many of the characters are unaware about what is happening around them.”3 Carruth’s ability to transfer a similar feeling to his audience is what makes Upstream Color so brilliant. The movie’s nonconventional cinematography, along with frequent cuts, makes the audience feel as though they are drifting while the events of the movie take place around them. It is a movie that is largely felt, not understood.

      Carruth’s dedication to his craft is exemplary. He is a filmmaker in the fullest sense of the word. For Primer, he fulfilled the role of director, writer, actor, soundtrack composer, and editor. His budget was a measly $7,000. As a result, he and his co-star rehearsed every line of dialogue over and over for weeks in advance, as they only could afford enough film to do about one take of every single shot. It is rather fitting that a movie requiring such attention to detail to understand would require such meticulous planning and preparation to create. The profit the film made was saved for nine years until Carruth came out of the woodwork to create another film. Shane Carruth’s works have easily been the most influential films I’ve ever watched, not only impacting my endeavors as a fledgling filmmaker myself, but also by helping to rewire the way I view the world. Though cliché, they remind me of a quote from Bill Watterson’s Calvin & Hobbes, “there’s treasure everywhere!” There is an indescribable tactility to Carruth’s cinematic style that affirms the beauty of the great and the small, the simple and the complex, the totality of the human experience.

      Carruth’s films trust you, creating a kind of intimacy one does not expect from this medium. This kind of trust has inspired my filmmaking to be less focused on a story’s “shape”, and to pay much more attention to how the color will breathe and bloom.4 When contemplative and intricate films like Carruth’s can be intimately experienced on such a level, it is difficult to adequately quantify the ways in which they have impacted my spiritual and imaginative life.

      1 Quote from Pauline Kael, found in essay prompt.

      2 D’Angelo, Mike (2013). “You’re Going To Want To See It More Than Once: UPSTREAM COLOR”. Music Box Theatre 2013 Spring Calendar March 1st through May 30th. Music Box Theatre: 30–31.

      3 Shane Carruth, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5cjq_Lb2F2I

     Fiction doesn’t necessarily mean that the story is not true. It is made up, sure, but these fictional things still happen; the characters aren’t real, but their stories represent hundreds of untold stories silenced by hundreds of silenced voices. Fiction is honest—oftentimes more honest than we’re willing to be in our real lives. It is by fictionalizing real-life pain that we are able to distance ourselves enough to understand why it hurts.

     We are all our own protagonists in the stories of our lives, and we need to learn who and what our antagonists are, who and what are our adversaries. Fiction helps us identify them in our own lives. Emphasized time and time again in my writing classes is the fact that antagonists aren’t necessarily negative; they simply get in the way of the protagonist reaching his or her ultimate goals and desires. Once I learned that, it became much easier to accept my own antagonists, to identify why they have impeded my journey and accept that it isn’t always bad to be interrupted in this journey of mine. Just because I’m my protagonist doesn’t mean I always know what is best for me. Oftentimes antagonists are the key components to the protagonist’s growth and understanding. Without strong antagonists, the protagonist remains stagnant.

     You are someone else’s antagonist as well, and that’s OK. If a character in a fiction story is in a relationship of any kind, it is almost guaranteed that the significant other acts as his or her antagonist at multiple points in the story. When someone or something gets in the way of our desire to be who we want to be, we fight back in different ways. We all have our own desires, and when love is involved, we mix our desires with the desires of those whom we love, and that’s when things get complicated; that’s when tension rises and disputes occur. That’s also what makes a story.

     It’s sort of beautiful that what makes people want to give up in real life is what makes the reader hold on even tighter in fiction. I think when I realized that, I saw my own conflicts as much greater than simply disputes. They were setting me back from achieving my desires (what in writing is called a “reversal”) but also creating beautiful, intriguing tension that embellishes my story into something greater. I was able to see what was at stake instead of simply what I was losing.

     Life is beautiful. Life is also confusing. Everybody goes into it as an amateur, and we’re all sort of figuring it out together, which means we make a lot of mistakes. I have a friend from high school whose father is an abusive alcoholic. He has been in and out of prison her entire life, and she tells me often that she wonders why she feels so conflicted. She loves him even though he has done so much to harm her and her mother, yet she’s also infinitely resentful. I wrote to her the other day after one of my writing classes and told her that the all-good and the all-bad characters don’t work. The reader doesn’t buy into them—because they’re not realistic. Instead, the reader longs to connect with the characters; they’re reading in such a way that they love the characters in spite of every wrong decision. We want to root for characters, but we also want to see the wrong in them, because we’re the same way in life. That’s what love is. When we love somebody—even when we hate them—we have a connection with them; even when they’re at their worst, we root for the small part of them that we once knew and loved. It doesn’t always make sense, but it’s how our hearts work. We don’t celebrate beauty unless we can see it breaking through the darkness. Creating characters is art, and it is through the pain represented in art that we find beauty. It is through secretly caring for the villain that one finally understands why she can’t hate her alcoholic father. It is through reading fiction that we are able to understand our own truths, and it is through writing fiction that we are able to be honest with ourselves without being the protagonist. We are the storytellers, and life is worth telling, even if you tell it through a lens of a character vastly different than you, even if you don’t agree with your characters’ truths. For you will unveil your own truths through the beautiful relationships you find in the characters of fiction.

I sat down for a conversation with Kathryn Notley, who plays Florrie in Eastern’s upcoming production of “Waiting for Lefty.”

Brown: Can you give me a brief summary of the plot of the show? (No spoilers!)

Notley: The show takes place in a taxi union meeting, where members are discussing what measures need to be taken for them to earn the wages they deserve. As the meeting progresses, certain members recount why they decided to join the union in the first place.

Brown: Speak a bit about the historical and political significance of this show.

Notley: The show takes place during the 1930s, so as you can imagine, the characters are desperate for a steady income. It shows how in the hardest of times unity will ignite a strength in people that they, alone, would otherwise not have. In the face of our most recent election, our cast has noted how relevant this play is to our country’s current political atmosphere. We have the working class and the elites and the gap between them that only fosters intolerance and injustice. No matter which side of the election you found yourself on, this is a time for us to come together, to work together and to find a collective voice that will press on for equality, love and freedom.

Brown: When I attend the show, what about my experience do you think will force me to think outside of what/how I typically think?

Notley: I think this show really encourages its audience members to consider the stories of those around them. The only way we can begin to mend the division that plagues the classes of our nation is if we can empathize with our neighbors. Our country needs love and peaceful collaboration. My hope is that the audience will leave the show feeling motivated to speak up about what they believe in, to defend those without a voice and to look at some of the pressing issues in our nation from all angles so that we can work together to find a solution.

Brown: How, if at all, has your involvement in this production changed or influenced your personal opinions or beliefs?

Notley: In our rehearsal after the election, our director encouraged us to let how we felt about the results fuel our performance. When watching others perform their scenes, there were a few that I felt had a new meaning to them. This show speaks to many themes woven throughout the history of our country: discrimination, poverty, betrayal, greed, yet also love, peace and unity. The relevance of this show astounds me. I don’t know if any of us could’ve predicted its significance when we first auditioned a few months back.

Brown: If you could tell the audience one thing before they experience this production, what would you choose to tell them?

Notley: I think this show gives us the hope that America is needing right now. So, when coming to the show, I’d encourage you to allow its message to resonate with experiences you have had, things you have read or stories you have heard. Allow its relevance to permeate as you watch, and you will surely find hope through the lives of the characters.

See “Waiting for Lefty” in the McInnis Auditorium on the St. Davids campus on Thursday, Nov. 17; Friday, Nov. 18; and Saturday, Nov. 19 at 8 p.m., and on Sunday, Nov. 20 at 3 p.m. Tickets are $5 with a current EU ID and $10 for general admission.

Source: Kathryn Notley

     Sometimes my soul gets dusty. Worship music no longer moves me; prayers are no longer my first resort when something goes awry. Life seems to be getting busier and busier; days are laden with stress; there are emails to be sent and meetings to attend, assignments to complete, and I get so caught up with life that I forget the reason why I’m living.

     The evening of Eastern’s annual all-night worship event, Conquer the Night, was a busy Friday night, and I’ll admit I was disappointed with how difficult it was for me to dig deep in the worship going on around me. My soul was dusty, and it had been for a while. I was numb. During the organized prayer time, I was distracted by the muddiness of the bass drum’s tone or the twitching palm of the person with whom I was supposed to be praying. I observed the comings and goings of my fellow classmates, and I debated leaving when the music was too loud for my weary ears. Amidst the distractions, I got progressively frustrated that everyone around me was getting so much more out of the evening than I was; I was annoyed that I couldn’t focus myself for even one prayer. So while those around me cried out prayers of deliverance and begged God to continue His work in their lives, I simply prayed for peace. I figured that if nothing else, I wanted to walk away from that evening with more peace in my soul than when I had arrived. I prayed it over and over again. My mind would wander elsewhere, and I’d beg it to come back: “Lord bring me peace.”

     About halfway through the evening, we heard a brief message in which we were reminded “God likes you.” How simple. How easy. How peaceful. We sang songs with simple lyrics: “You are good, when there’s nothing good in me” and “how great Thou art,” and with the simplest exhale, God blew the layers of dust off of my soul as He reminded me that though life is complicated, His love remains a constant. Though His love is complex, it is steady, and it is abounding, and He remains good even when I’m not.

     God deserves the manifolds of our hearts, but when we seem to be dropping every piece of our complex selves on our way to His arms, it is okay to instead bring Him the simplicity of our hearts. He wants all of us, and sometimes that has to begin with simply asking for peace to remember why we’re here.

     The Eastern theater program experienced significant heartache last academic year when Jenny Tibbels resigned from her position as theater director. While her time of two years here was brief, Professor Tibbels made her mark on the pages of Eastern’s history. The theater program was far from unchanged by Tibbels’ presence and will remain impacted even through her absence. In spite of Tibbels’ departure, the theater program is flourishing, and impressively did not lose any courses, but instead added a new course: Acting for the Camera, taught by Philadelphia actor and Mirror Theater Company founder Anthony Lawton.

     Professor Lawton, who has a rich background in acting, is an indispensable resource for Eastern’s community. Along with Lawton, we welcome alumnae Alyse Haldeman as our theater manager, alumnae Rebecca Coppola as our instructor for both Actor’s Lab and Intro to Theater and Anthony Marsala as our Acting I instructor. From last year we welcome back Stephen Wisely as our technical director and instructor of Stagecraft and Design I and II.

     Theresa Moyer, interim director of theater and professor of voice, is excited for this “all-Star team for 2016-2017,” and speaks with excitement about the future of Eastern’s theater program. This is Professor Moyer’s 25th year at Eastern, and before she tells of the rich history of working alongside the known and loved Mark Hallen, building the program into the beauty that it is today, she says, “I’ve seen everything. Literally everything.” Moyer  speaks beautiful truth into that statement, and can answer just about any theater-related question one could ever inquire about Eastern.

     Something that makes Eastern’s theater program unique is the desire for making art together, for gathering and incorporating together instead of separately and for forming a safe, family-like community. To this end, Actor’s Lab, which is instructed this year by Coppola, is a space of creative freedom where actors can come together and discover what it means to be their full selves in acting. Through breathing together, laughing together, creating together and learning together, these actors are able to discover the importance of familiarity among those they will be engaging with through acting. Coppola has previously known many of her current students through working as the lyricist for “Rise,” last year’s fall musical, but expresses the newfound excitement of working with them as their instructor this year. “My hope is that we can make theater more of a family again, that we can form a deeper relationship within the department, that we can develop a shared creative language by just loving each other,” she says.

     Coppola and Moyer both agree that Actor’s Lab is truly the glue that holds together Eastern’s theater program. Hundreds of graduates who have been a part of the class have gone on to further pursue acting. There is something rather remarkable about a program that shines in such a way as to continue shaping the futures of graduates. Eastern’s theater program has an exciting future, and with the help of many alumni and professors this year, the stage will be a place of joy and creation.