Curtain goes up on Scientology
Correspondent:: DrNerdware
Date: Sat, 23 Oct 2004 13:57:28 +0100
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http://www.guardian.co.uk/elsewhere/journalist/story/0%2C7792%2C1333958%2C00.html
Curtain goes up on Scientology
At last, audiences can discover the secrets of Scientology without being
zapped by the fabled electropsychometer, writes Dan Glaister
Friday October 22, 2004
It is the show that has everything: music, dancing, children,
celebrities. Hey, it even has threatening phone calls and the hint of
divine retribution.
A Very Merry Unauthorized Children's Scientology Pageant opened in Los
Angeles last week after a successful run in New York at the end of last
year.
The play is pretty much what the title implies: an unauthorised pageant
performed by - but not necessarily for - children that tells the story
of the life of Church of Scientology founder and main man L Ron Hubbard.
And before you ask, the L, we learn, stands for Lafayette.
The venerable New York Times critic Ben Brantley lent the production the
sheen of respectability when he opined that the show was the "gutsiest
gimmick in New York theatre for 2003" that "provides a cult-hit
blueprint for a young generation that prefers its irony delivered with
not a wink but a blank stare". That man should be in advertising.
He was not alone. The arch New York Observer called it "hilarious", Time
Out New York found it "wonderfully weird", while the Village Voice went
all intellectual and said that it promised to do for Hubbard what Brecht
had done for Hitler in The Resistible Rise of Arturo Ui.
With all this and a Village Voice OBIE (off-Broadway) award under its
belt, the show packed up and headed for what Andrew Barrett-Weiss, the
artistic director of the tiny Powerhouse theatre in Santa Monica, calls
"Scientology's Jerusalem": Los Angeles.
But the show hit something of a glitch when it arrived in Los Angeles.
While New York officials of the Church of Scientology took a decidedly
liberal view of the production in public - it's such a little,
insignificant thing in the cosmic scheme of things, they declared, that
we're just going to ignore it - behind the scenes it made it clear that
it was less than happy with the production. Church officials visited
rehearsals; they helpfully produced documentation of court cases where
the Church of Scientology had successfully prosecuted those seeking to
disparage the Church's methods. "It was terrifically wonderful and
intimidating," notes the show's creator and director Alex Timbers.
A similar formula has prevailed in LA: don't give the production the
oxygen of publicity. But behind the scenes the wheels of organised
religion were spinning. As soon as the Church got wind of an LA Times
piece on the production, several editors on the paper received calls
from the guardians of L Ron's flame urging them to pull the article.
Nothing unusual about that, as any entertainment PR will tell you. But
things took a more sinister turn when the phone calls started.
"The parents of one of the kids in the cast were called by members of
the entertainment industry that were Scientologists," says Timbers.
"They were told that if they were to continue with the show that it
might be bad for their future career."
The parents, troupers to the last, stood up for the universal values of
showbusiness. "They said, 'We read the script, and we don't think it is
mean-spirited'," says Timbers. "'We understand your concerns, but we
don't share your concerns.'"
In a single-industry town where leading lights such as Tom Cruise, John
Travolta and Kirstie Alley are members of the Church, these things can
cause an impressionable nine-year-old to pause. That particular holy
trinity of Hollywood are all depicted in the production, paying
testimony to the role that Dianetics has played in their success. (The
Tom Cruise character merely says, "I'm Tom Cruise", but you know what
he's getting at.)
Regardless, the show went ahead, and so Los Angeles audiences have a
chance to discover the secrets of Scientology without being zapped by
the fabled electropsychometer. They also have a chance to witness a
wide-eyed, straight-faced, scrappy and touching telling of the story of
L Ron set to a cheesy electro-pop score. See the great man, clad in a
white Plyphonic Spree-style gown, wander from inquisitive soul to
wounded war veteran to writer of pulp science fiction to leader of world
religion. Sort of. Actually, the chorus, in the form of Angelic Girl,
played by Katherine Ellis, puts it better. She recites the litany
"teacher, author, explorer, atomic physicist, nautical engineer,
choreographer and horticulturist", each time L Ron's name is mentioned
at the beginning of the 50-minute play.
And the production dodges the intellectual property rights problem
inherent in its script by acknowledging at the outset that Scientology,
L Ron Hubbard and Dianetics are all registered trademarks of the Church
of Scientology. On the advice of lawyers, the word "unauthorised" was
added to the title.
It may be unauthorised, but a little inside knowledge goes a long way.
The flavour of the show - and perhaps the religion - is spelled out in
the opening number: "The snow is falling/All the flowers are dead/But
don't give up yet/It's all inside your head." All together now.