ìMOONCHILDRENî

 By Michael Weller

 

Rights:  Theatre Communications Group

355 Lexington Ave.

New York, NY 10017-0217

 

Please note: ìParticular emphasis is placed on the readings and all uses of these plays by educational institutions, permission for which must be secured from the authorís representative:  The Joyce Ketay Agency,

1501 Broadway, Suite 1908, New York. New York 10036,

212-354—6825.î

 

Cast: 16 characters (8 of which are college age)

         13 males, 3 females

 

 

      ìImagine a group of people who, for one reason or another are compelled to make a journey by foot across a desert strewn with patches of quicksand. Aware of the nature of the danger, but not of its several locations, they have evolved prior to the journey, a pattern of travel, a set of warning signals, a complex shorthand to alert each other of possible danger ahead.

      I picture this play, then, as their journey across the desert. We don't know the signals. We don't know the danger. All we see is a group of people each spaced apart from the other in a particular way, walking across a seemingly harmless stretch of sand. They make peculiar detours. They signal each other in curious ways. They laugh and joke to pass the time. They come closer together or drift away from each other, forming new patterns according to necessities we don't understand. And in the end, we know about them only what we've learned from their behavior along the way.î- Playwright Michael Weller from his introduction to ìMoonchildren.î

 

 MOONCHILDREN takes place in 1965, the era of grass, free love, civil unrest and the war in Vietnam, but, basically, it is about kids graduating from college, not knowing what lies ahead. Michael Weller dubs MOONCHILDREN a comedy, but the humor is a protective mechanism endemic to youth. In a vain attempt to maintain equanimity, it is the device used to cope with uncertainty and fear by youngsters about to be born to adulthood. Some will be ìbornî to continuing education, others to jobs and yet others to war and disability or death. I guess that is why Michael Weller envisions MOONCHILDREN as a ìjourney across the desertî pocked by pools of quicksand. I do not know why he named the play ìMoonchildren,î unless he is making an analogy between the evanescence of youth and Winter Solstice, the shortest day of the year, but, in any case, the young people in this play are the same as every ìgraduateî compelled to vacate childhood and move on.

 

 ìÖthere are moments when the spirit palls and the resolute good humor stretches thin. Drunk once more, you stumble home alone to wrest yourself to sleep in an unmade, comfortless bed. And the party's almost over and whadaya got to show? The one-liners have long since faded. And after one or two bravura letters, the friendships fade as well. So what then's left to do short of shuffling through Senior Yearbook for the next 2000 years? Let's face it. College is pretty much a shuck. A holding action with a seductive glow that hasn't even the half-life of a burning match.î-ìThe Harvard Crimsonî- Gregg J. Kilday, May 12, 1972 

 

 Although the themes in MOONCHILDREN are universal, the patina of each generation is unique. In 1965, America was suffering growing pains in common with its youth. Idealism, maturity and reality were on a crash course. Fundamental changes were taking place, resulting in unrest, anxiety and cynicism. Faced with such unpleasant, inexorable dynamics, the students in MOONCHILDREN develop strategies by which to flourish. Unfortunately, those strategies result in isolation and misunderstanding.

 

MOONCHILDREN sneaks up on its audience. It unfolds in a seemingly happy, haphazard way. It is wry and goofy, irreverent and unpredictable, embodied by the comic style of Christopher Guest, one of itís original stars. In that respect, the show is enjoyable, particularly to a young audience. However, the dialogue is a dodge. Rather than miscommunication, it is ìdiscommunication,î unconsciously fashioned to avoid issues. It is the offspring of confusion, concern and lack of trust. It is passive avoidance, an effort to be a small target. It is pretence of ennui, so as to appear disinterested, content. It is the mind-numbing flurry of the ìput-on,î grasping for the power to manipulate.

 

 Ultimately, though, the dialogue is the language of the lonely, and that is why it is so valuable to a young audience. They see themselves in this dramatization. Somehow, Michael Weller's words illuminate what is not spoken, and that illumination is a pervasively descriptive characterization of the human condition in its tender years. Thus, MOONCHILDREN is a mirror, a tonic, a balm, notwithstanding its final brush with melancholy. In its reflection, children better understand themselves, and that is how this play is most beneficial. It shows kids that they are connected by a universal ìdisconnectî which all of them wish to bridge, and, in the best case, MOONCHILDREN does just that.