In her introductory notes on The Secret in the Wings, Mary Zimmerman, suggests that her unassuming collection of forgotten fairytales echoes G.K. Chesterton’s famous observation on Beauty and Beast: “That a thing must be loved before it is lovable.” Of course, fairytales -- some of the oldest and most commonly repeated narratives ever told -- are hardly unlovable. From the ever-expanding Disney catalog to Ella Enchanted to Pretty Woman to Into the Woods, fairy tales seem permanent residents of not only the children’s library but also the perpetual cultural mindset.
Beneath their popular appeal, fairy tales have also commanded the attention of modern psychology. Both Sigmund Freud and Carl Jung developed their schools of psychoanalytic theory around oral folklore. For Jung, the seeming one-dimensional characters from Snow White to the Evil Queen represent archetypes, or different facets of our personalities. For Freud, fairy tales represented narrative versions of dreams -- both of which offer immeasurable insight into the repressed desires and fears percolating deep in our subconscious. Maryland professor Ellen Spitz argues in The New Republic that fairy tales carry us back to our own childhood, and the attention we gave the world when everything was “for the first time.”
But psychoanalysis doesn’t teach us how to stage troubling or fantastical scenes; and Zimmerman’s play does not drip with the easy saccharine morals Disney has taught us to expect.
Nonetheless, working with this weird and wonderful onion of a play has itself epitomized Chesterton’s axiom of loving preceding lovability. While it certainly has its initial charms, Secret also presents its challenges: How does one weave together so many narrative threads into a coherent arc? How will young actors convincingly bring to life such seemingly shapeless characters as “Mother” or “Prince”? Can we really integrate three choral sequences into a straight play? And how exactly will snakes slither about and seven sons turn into swans?
Still, even from that first read back in April, I knew there was something real, something fundamental, something well worth loving. The tales were familiar yet somehow new; the characters spoke to none of my experiences and yet alluded to a greater human one; the magic and monsters were ostensibly pitched at children, yet we knew deep down that couldn’t be so. Yes, there was something worth loving.
Though it took some convincing, over the course of the rehearsal process, this cast and crew unpeeled these deceptively simple tales, layer by layer, loving them harder and harder, and were rewarded for that care. What you are about to witness very much represents a labor of love for all involved. Hopefully we have earned the right to be “lovable.”
Welcome to The Secret in the Wings.
- Rob Cross, Director
