Winter One-Acts

Posted by at 2:29PM

What is the significance of the fact that all three directors of the Winter One-Acts live in EastFlo?
Well, no, this is not actually leading into a harrowing commentary on the prevailing dynamics of self-sealing thespian communities. It’s merely supposed to elicit an awe-struck revelation of the fact that Florence Moore is, COMPLETELY WITHOUT BIAS, the most talented dorm that Stanford has ever seen.
So much for Captatio Benevolentiae…
But the One-Acts themselves seem to realize that this particular device of rhetoric is a decidedly antiquated one. The show began by volleying profanity after profanity at the bewildered audience. No context provided, of course. Just raw theatricality. Actors giving throat to the compunctions of morality in silhouette, framing the outlines of ulterior motives with their undulating hands and arms. The audience sitting, drenched in a quivering gelatin plasm of air made thick with connotations.
And hey. That, to me, is what a play is supposed to be. Regardless of the labels that qualify the experience as “100% student-produced”, it’d probably be more judicious to the cast and crew if the One-Acts weren’t judged based on how different the actors looked in real life or what scandalous backstage gossip each scene was attempting to conceal.
Or just try not to chatter on about it while the actors are delivering their monologues. Just a thought, you know.

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