On Ego

Author: Isabel McWilliams

Halloween weekend never had such a philosophical edge as it did for those who went to see Sara Swartzwelder's '09 production of "On Ego" by Mick Gordon and Paul Broks. This play confronts the complexity and challenges involved in defining the "self," which believe it or not is what we indirectly struggle with while wearing a Halloween costume. Unanswerable questions about our identity that involve abstract thinking became approachable through finding common ground with the play's three characters, all wonderfully played by actors Claire Graves '09, Mike Tierney '09.5 and Kevin Thorsen '11.

The set design by Sam Collier '09 complemented the actors' style and gave a pulse to the heavy content of the play. The set pulled the viewers into an inescapable space denoted by a neutral black setting that came alive with silver wires twisting along the walls that mimicked DNA and suggested the inside of a brain. Implying a limitless void, the set reinforced the notion that our emotions and thoughts defy physicality; the wires both defined and challenged space in a way that confined the audience within a restless, tense environment.

The pace of the play took on an evolutionary nature as the characters became more complex. The play seemed to give itself away with a predictable story line and uncomplicated characters, but evolved into a complex drama that made the viewer feel unexpectedly vulnerable. Alex the Science professor (Thorsen), the first character to appear, addressed the audience members as if they were his students. He argued that the illusion of possessing a self is irresistible, but essentially we are only the behavior of neurons, a string of actions and experiences. Taking out a brain, he asked "How does meat become mind?" - an unfathomable question that prepared the viewers for what would be deeply explored as the play went on. Incessant questions, at first preachy, became easier to entertain as human interaction between the characters increased. We came to understand the self not through didactic and direct dialogue, but through intense human interaction of the three characters who themselves were struggling with defining the self. Tension grew between Alex and Derek (Alice's father) as Alice went back and forth between composure and passionate reactions.

Alex's wife, Alice (Graves), exhibited a wide range of emotions and psychological states. While she was dying of a brain tumor, the helpless audience witnessed her reason disintegrate and her true emotions, formerly hidden, emerge. Alice deconstructed into extreme human emotions and reactions, forgetting who she was while Alex was challenged by his science-based idea of non-self when forced to die. When Alice was in the hospital, Alex tried to take a picture of her and she violently snatched the camera away. Preventing duplication of herself allowed her to gain self control and protect her identity before death. A parallel to this was Alex's teleportation during which he became accidentally duplicated. One version of himself must die because two people cannot live the same life. Derek pointed out Alex's incessant use of "I," which contradicts scientific reasoning that the self does not exist. Emotionally distraught at the prospect of having to die, Alex could no longer understand himself on scientific terms. These emotional sequences were gripping and engaging, but it was difficult to know exactly what to think or feel. The passionate acting and rich philosophical content led the viewer into a removed moment of reflection, only to be subsequently jerked back into the plot. The tug of war for attention between the plot and thought-provoking content was disorienting, and heightened the viewers' self-awareness.

Although the ending of the play brought closure to the restless plot, no ultimate definition of the self was evident. Alex stood in solitude as fragments of all the things he, Alice and Derek had said were played from all directions in the theatre space, imitating his train of overwhelmed thought and memory. Slowly he joined in the chorus of voices and thoughts, projecting outwardly what he was experiencing within the deep space of his brain. The idea that the human is a "storytelling machine" adds another self-conscious dimension to this play. The stage and the actors before us are another storytelling machine, connecting the technology of theatrical production and neuroscience.

We have all heard of the plot line before; the man in charge whose identity is challenged and ends up alone, the lovely wife dies tragically from a brain tumor. All of it is familiar. Us Middlebury students are so academically intelligent that we understand things intellectually, through abstract thought, without ever experiencing what we claim to know. Watching this play was a way of vicariously experiencing something we've only studied or discussed in class; and it also reminded us that thinking we know everything is as much of an illusion as our identity.