I'm Rydice? I'M RYDICE? EURYDICE! THATS WHO'S RYDICE.

Honestly the first thing I thought when I finished Eurydice was that I need to write in more parts for rocks in my plays. I think this play did a really great job with incorporating odd and unique characters, and making them seem completely regular by the end of the play. Thinking back, I would have to say that the strength of Eurydice came almost completely from the characters. They could have said very different things than the script called for, but I still would have enjoyed it because the combination of characters employed in the play was somehow very interesting. I would like to go through them quickly:

Orpheus and Eurydice: From the very start I was in love with them. The setting played perfectly into the idea of two true-lovers going for a dip in the pond, and all their talk about music and promising made the scene really work for me. Eurydice spoke almost exclusively in questions, making her really seem like depended on Orpheus. Their banter and movement really sold them in the first scene, and even though they didn't really have more interaction until she dies again, we know clearly that these characters are in love.
Man: Right away we hate the man. He is unnamed and horrible. In one question, "Are you a homeless person," we know what this man is all about. He perfectly plays up the 'tough-guy' role, and I can't help but detest him.
Father: He is a nice touch. The father's role turns this play into far more of a tragedy than it already is. His love of his daughter is so clear through his careful writings and teachings, and when he dips himself in the river we can't help but be reminded of Romeo poisoning himself when he believes Juliet to have died.
The Stones: With the stones, Eurydice starts to get more bewildering but simultaneously more intriguing. I immediately thought of how the costumes were going to look, but after a few lines it didn't matter. These stones were such unique characters that somehow genuinely told the rock's tale. I was put off at first at the blatant supernaturality of the stones, but once the dialogue got going they materialized so powerfully that they just became natural characters.
Grandmother: She had an interesting role, kind of like Lucky in Godot. I wasn't too impressed with this character, but it tied in the musical theme, so I guess it can stay.
Child: This was another character that became more an more real the more I read. What a fantastic idea though, right? The Child is the lord of the undeworld, I mean. This slight change is unique, compelling, and changes hugely the dynamic between the characters. The child comes onto Eurydice and we feel dirty to even think about it. Like a child with too-small clothes, this character seems to be ironically stuck in limbo between manhood and childhood, and that simple character choice molded a great deal of his dialogue.
Old Woman: This was a strange choice that brought the myth into modernity even more than the 1950s swim suits.

If I learn nothing else from Eurydice, it should be about choosing characters wisely. Eurydice did, and the play was practically written once the character list was. By choosing characters that will inherently attack each others weaknesses, the play has a constant source of tension. For instance, homosexuality paired with heterosexuality creates an instant and prolonged conflict. Different viewpoints on races or having a disease, anything that permanently affects the way a person addresses the world, can be utilized by another character to drive dialogue.

A reading from the Book of Dialogue, chapter 1

In reading the dialogues, I noticed that most of them were good examples of something that I find very difficult: writing characters that listen to each other and react naturally. The best example of this was in the Closer dialogue. The two couples were splitting up, but it wasn’t under jovial conditions. Larry and Anna had a very compelling dialogue to finish the pages, and each question brought on more and more anger to Larry. He kept delving deeper and deeper into the sexual exploits of Anna and Dan, and every fact made him want to ask more. A natural progression within the dialogue that leads to heavy emotional responses is a difficult thing to create, but closer did it very well.

The Death of a Salesman dialogue had a similar quality, but highlighted some different facets of dialogue that smack of realism. The status of a character dictates his words and actions in a scene. Willy had to keep himself in check throughout the interview, while Howard seemed fairly bored and apathetic. The words in the scene reflected exactly the statuses of the characters. The use of status permitted the scene to take on an additional element of realism, and allowed the readers to invest themselves in the dialogue. I have seen scenes before that called for one of the employees to berate their boss, which typically doesn’t happen. The scene made me feel more uncomfortable than interested because status wasn’t being respected.

In dialogue, I have noticed a slice of fantasy. Not supernaturality, but fantasy in the wording. When I was first getting into plays I absolutely hated Neil Simon and Tennessee Williams because I kept saying to myself “nobody would say that!” when the characters would act. I am just now realizing that plays and playwriting aren’t trying to show us the real world. If we wanted that we could go to a coffee shop or an office building. Plays are trying to show us something else. It may be human in all respects, but the world we are seeing is not our world. For this reason, Neil Simon’s characters can say anything they feel like saying because they are in their own world – a world in which my day to day interactions would seem as foreign as theirs do to me. It then struck me that in plays, the characters are allowed to do things that I would like to do, but can’t because I am bound by the laws of this world. In Closer, Larry asked Anna a series of questions that, although I would secretly and masochistically want to know, I would never have the guts to ask. In that way, dialogue allows the audience an outlet for their own desires and passions. It acts in a “well if I can’t, at least somebody can,” kind of way. Shakespearean dialogue may be so enticing to the reader because it is so beautiful and untouchable. Even if someone practiced their whole life, they probably wouldn’t be able to converse in Shakespearean English like the characters in the plays can. Watching dialogue is a way for the audience to live out their fantasy of being like the characters on stage, if only for a moment.

The dialogue samples we read also maintained their subjects very well. When I am trying to write dialogue I find I can never keep character, subject, and relative realism consistent – one thing always drops off. The dialogue we read seemed to do a good job of maintaining a balance amongst the three. If I was asked, I think I could describe in a few words the subject of the dialogue. The same can not be said for all dialogue, and a departure from either character, subject, or realism is typically difficult for me to become invested in.