INSIDE
BOOK CONTRIBUTORS
Alex Balk, Smoker
Carol Diehl, Art Critic
Matthew Gallaway , Novelist
Megan Lubaszka, Architect
Angela Serratore, Historian
Tim Siedell, Ad Man
Natasha Simons, Writer
Christina Perry & Derrick Gee, Designers
Dave Wilkie, Ad Man
PALS
Excerpt above from America Hurrah. Below are some reviews:
—“Fascinating! Brilliant! … perhaps the most consistently fascinating, frequently brilliant evening of drama produced so far this season.… “ Wall Street Journal.
—“Hurricane of horror.” Boston Globe.
—“At last something new.” New York Review of Books.
—“Brilliant.” Harold Pinter.
—“His plays don’t develop, they explode.” Variety.
—“I was especially impressed by America Hurrah. It is possible that Motel is the best one-act play I’ve ever seen.” Norman Mailer.
America Hurrah is a trilogy of short plays written by Jean Claude van Itallie, a Belgium native who immigrated to the states during WW2 with his family and educated by way of Harvard. The trio of plays— considered ‘experimental’— premiered in 1966 and it ran for 634 performances. The plays were as follows:
* * *
Interview- Referred to as a ‘fugue for 8 actors’. 4 actors play unemployed job applicants: a house painter, a scrubwoman, a banker and a lady’s maid. The other 4 actors are masked, anonymous, job interviewers. Each question they hurl is meant to be more humiliating and invasive than the next. The interviewees struggle for their dignity. The play toggles between a subway station, a city street, and psychiatrist’s office (this is the scene Megan and Don were watching.)
* * *
TV- Three workers in a television studio glancing at monitors. They work and chatter while being utterly disconnected from the performers on screen. From the NYT review: ‘[The television performers] look like so many up-ended zebras - go through all the violent, cloying, synthetic motions that pass for entertainment on the national airwaves. But there is no relation between the workers and the work: a yawning gulf, big enough to drown us all, has opened between the real concerns of real people and the imaginary concerns of our imaginary archetypes.”
* * *
Motel - This play is done with actors in full face masks or sometimes puppets. An ‘excursion into theater of the absurd.’ A blonde and a man check into a nameless motel on route 66. The female motel keeper is the only person who speaks. She extolls of the virtues of self-flushing toilets and hook rugs, while the blonde and the man crawl around on the floor and scrawl obscene graffiti on the wall. Here is an excerpt:
Motel Keeper’s Voice: Myself I know it from the catalogue: bottles, bras, breakfasts, refrigerators, cast-iron gates, plastic posies…
(In the motel room, the Woman doll opens her negligee and the man doll pulls off her bra. The Man and Woman dolls embrace. The Woman doll puts lipstick on her nipples.)
Motel Keeper’s Voice: Paper subscriptions, Buick trucks, blankets, forks, clitter-clack darning hooks, transistors and antimacassars, vinyl plastics..
(The Man doll writes simple obscene words on the wall. The Woman doll does the same with her lipstick)
Motel Keeper’s Voice: …pickles, bayberry, candles, South Dakotan Kewpie Dolls, fiberglass hair, polished milk, amiable grandpappies, colts, Galsworthy books, cribs, cabinets, teeter-totters…
Speaking with genius pal, Angela, about which of the snoball pitches were best. I thought Peggy’s was the most subtle and funny. She pointed out that it’s only funny to people who read the New Yorker which probably isn’t the same group of people who want Snoballs. We both agreed that hearing Don Drape ‘do’ a devil voice was sad and made us feel like lonely space monkeys adrift in an uncaring void. Ginsberg’s, Angela, said, was the best because it was the most youthful. The most in touch with a juvenile sense of glee and naughtiness. He is a big threat.
For normal people too.
Just want to take a moment to endorse the benefits of talk therapy. A couple of years later, Betty is finally thawing a little of that WASP perma-freeze with some fearless moral inventory! One day at a time, Birdie!
Weight Watchers 1966 Meal Plan:
Breakfast: 1 egg or 1 ounce hard cheese or 2 ounces fish or 1/4 cup cottage or pot cheese
1 slice bread, either enriched or whole wheat. No rolls, bagels, buscuits muffins, crackers, cereals.
Lunch: 4 ounces fish or lean meat or poultry, or 2/3 cup cottage cheese or pot cheese or 4 ounces farmer cheese or 2 ounces hard cheese or 2 eggs. Unlimited vegetables
1 slice bread
Dinner: 6 ounces lean meat or fish or poultry
1 portion limited vegetables.
Unlimited vegetables.
No midnight steaks :(
Of course, if anyone rises with “red hair” and “eats men like air”, it’s our zaftig miracle Joan Holloway. Keep an eye on this space.

“Lady Lazarus”, in Plath’s own words, is about “the agony of being reborn.” And Megan spent a good deal of the last episode attempting a career rebirth — an agony we can all vibe with. Not only did she have to contend with her own ambivalence about the situation, but with the risk of bringing her all-id husband dangerously close to an existential meltdown. The man cannot handle even tacit questioning of his liiiiiife.
I am your opus
I am your valuable
[…]
Ash, ash—
You poke and stir.
Flesh, bone, there is nothing there—
A cake of soap,
A wedding ring,
A gold filling.
Operating not so much as her own character but rather an agitator of the characters around her, Megan may be bringing everyone else to a frothing analysis of her motivations before burning out in a flash of phoenix-like glory like the Lady Lazarus of the poem. (The peanut crunching crowd/Shoves in to see) Notice that “wedding ring” is one of the primary material symbols that the speaker claims does not represent her. Megan is impossible to analyze, refracting attempts to do so into a million opinions on how to feel about her (in us too!), but she is an extraordinary illuminator of the people around her.


Footnote by Natasha Simons



