Artistic Statement
I wanted to write about family violence, addiction, shared history and a secret’s toll, which tend to be standard fare on the American menu, but not in a way that plumbs their depth like a “Long Day’s Journey Into Night” does: with a gravity that’s hard to bear. I wanted to write a modern black comedy (post recovery movement) about an addict who is aware of her disease and about the family who loves her. I wanted to explore the disease through the addict’s point of view. We’ve seen how alcoholism affects family, but how does family affect the alcoholic? I’m interested in the fundamental conflict inside every insightful alcoholic; equal parts survival and destruction; an ongoing battle between the part that wants to live and the part that wants to die. This conflict within the marrow of every alcoholic is heartbreaking and wrenching. And no other disease manifests like addiction, which is to say, no disease destroys its hosts and the people who love them quite like this one does.
I also wanted to look at collective memory. What is truth and what is perspective? And can facts be distorted by the way we treat them? The Drexler family – the family in this play – is funny. Humor is their defense against a painful past. Does wit cushion our recollections or warp them?
Finally, within this conversation, I was interested in the cultural shift where parenting is concerned. Prevalent parenting styles in the 50s, 60s and 70s included parents who freely hit their kids; they smacked them and hit them, and this behavior was passed down and shrugged off as if it had no effect. I saw a MAD MEN in which Don Draper was at a block party and a neighbor hit one of his kids, or maybe he hit a neighbor’s kid – I don’t remember – but I do remember that when I was growing up, you could hit other people’s kids without repercussion. That was acceptable in some quarters. And I thought, “Yes! Exactly!” Often addiction and violence play as a double feature in families, so I wanted to look at an American family that has spanned two periods and explore how the two perspectives create conflict.
I also wanted to look at collective memory. What is truth and what is perspective? And can facts be distorted by the way we treat them? The Drexler family – the family in this play – is funny. Humor is their defense against a painful past. Does wit cushion our recollections or warp them?
Finally, within this conversation, I was interested in the cultural shift where parenting is concerned. Prevalent parenting styles in the 50s, 60s and 70s included parents who freely hit their kids; they smacked them and hit them, and this behavior was passed down and shrugged off as if it had no effect. I saw a MAD MEN in which Don Draper was at a block party and a neighbor hit one of his kids, or maybe he hit a neighbor’s kid – I don’t remember – but I do remember that when I was growing up, you could hit other people’s kids without repercussion. That was acceptable in some quarters. And I thought, “Yes! Exactly!” Often addiction and violence play as a double feature in families, so I wanted to look at an American family that has spanned two periods and explore how the two perspectives create conflict.
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Jennifer Hoppe-House
Artistic Statement
I wanted to write about family violence, addiction, shared history and a secret’s toll, which tend to be standard fare on the American menu, but not in a way that plumbs their depth like a “Long Day’s Journey Into Night” does: with a gravity that’s hard to bear. I wanted to write a modern black comedy (post recovery movement) about an addict who is aware of her disease and about the family who loves her. I wanted to explore the disease through the addict’s point of view. We’ve seen how alcoholism affects family, but how does family affect the alcoholic? I’m interested in the fundamental conflict inside every insightful alcoholic; equal parts survival and destruction; an ongoing battle between the part that wants to live and the part that wants to die. This conflict within the marrow of every alcoholic is heartbreaking and wrenching. And no other disease manifests like addiction, which is to say, no disease destroys its hosts and the people who love them quite like this one does.
I also wanted to look at collective memory. What is truth and what is perspective? And can facts be distorted by the way we treat them? The Drexler family – the family in this play – is funny. Humor is their defense against a painful past. Does wit cushion our recollections or warp them?
Finally, within this conversation, I was interested in the cultural shift where parenting is concerned. Prevalent parenting styles in the 50s, 60s and 70s included parents who freely hit their kids; they smacked them and hit them, and this behavior was passed down and shrugged off as if it had no effect. I saw a MAD MEN in which Don Draper was at a block party and a neighbor hit one of his kids, or maybe he hit a neighbor’s kid – I don’t remember – but I do remember that when I was growing up, you could hit other people’s kids without repercussion. That was acceptable in some quarters. And I thought, “Yes! Exactly!” Often addiction and violence play as a double feature in families, so I wanted to look at an American family that has spanned two periods and explore how the two perspectives create conflict.
I also wanted to look at collective memory. What is truth and what is perspective? And can facts be distorted by the way we treat them? The Drexler family – the family in this play – is funny. Humor is their defense against a painful past. Does wit cushion our recollections or warp them?
Finally, within this conversation, I was interested in the cultural shift where parenting is concerned. Prevalent parenting styles in the 50s, 60s and 70s included parents who freely hit their kids; they smacked them and hit them, and this behavior was passed down and shrugged off as if it had no effect. I saw a MAD MEN in which Don Draper was at a block party and a neighbor hit one of his kids, or maybe he hit a neighbor’s kid – I don’t remember – but I do remember that when I was growing up, you could hit other people’s kids without repercussion. That was acceptable in some quarters. And I thought, “Yes! Exactly!” Often addiction and violence play as a double feature in families, so I wanted to look at an American family that has spanned two periods and explore how the two perspectives create conflict.