{"id":1282,"date":"2016-05-05T15:57:53","date_gmt":"2016-05-05T14:57:53","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.artsjournal.com\/performancemonkey\/?p=1282"},"modified":"2016-05-05T16:10:09","modified_gmt":"2016-05-05T15:10:09","slug":"propwatch-the-mop-in-the-flick","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.artsjournal.com\/performancemonkey\/2016\/05\/propwatch-the-mop-in-the-flick.html","title":{"rendered":"Propwatch: the mop in The Flick"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"the-flick-mop\"<\/a><\/p>\n

No one selects a mop for its glamour. The mop that appears in the second half of The Flick<\/em><\/a> is dowdier than most \u2013 a disconsolate tangle that once a day swabs the stickier kinds of refuse in a failing Massachusetts movie theatre.<\/p>\n

I don\u2019t know if the mop I saw<\/a> at the National Theatre had appeared, like actors Louisa Krause and Matthew Maher, in Sam Gold\u2019s original New York production (photo above by Joan Marcus). But whoever cast it was spot on. Its lank head is the sludgy grey of too many late-evening wipedowns in water too infrequently changed. But it is also eloquent about the tenuous workplace bonds and disappointed expectations that make Annie Baker\u2019s play so involving.<\/p>\n

The staff of\u00a0the Flick sell tickets and snacks, and tidy the cinema between screenings. Baker and Gold foster long, ruminative pauses \u2013 the play lasts for 3\u00bd hours, much of which is spent watching Sam and Avery, veteran and newbie, trail between rows, sweeping up scattered popcorn and soda cups. What about spilled soda, Avery asks. Sam tells him they do one big mop at the end of the night.<\/p>\n

Barbara Ehrenreich spent a few weeks as a cleaner in Maine when researching Nickel and Dimed<\/em>, her 2001 book about low-paid labour. It was work full of indignities<\/a>, not the least of which was the impossibility of doing a good job: the \u2018Merry Maids\u2019 instruction to give a spray and wipe with an unclean cloth infuriated her.<\/p>\n

I\u2019ve seen The Flick<\/em> twice now, the second time from above, where it became evident that these guys are slightly shoddy cleaners. Popcorn is hurled at a moment of high emotion, and most of the detritus remains for the rest of the play. Sam and Avery \u2013 occasionally joined by projectionist Rose \u2013 aren\u2019t casual about their work, but you couldn\u2019t describe them as motivated. They move through their back-and-forth routine, methodical but numbed, unless surprised by an abandoned item (manky shoe, snoozing customer), or until halted by a chasm of anxiety or desolation.<\/p>\n

When the mop does appear, it seems even more disconsolate than the people wielding it. Plunge, squeeze, wipe, repeat. It deals with spilled sprite and chocolate pudding \u2013 at least, they hope<\/em> it\u2019s just chocolate pudding \u2013 but its real dramatic function is to channel the characters\u2019 dissatisfaction.<\/p>\n

Especially Sam\u2019s. Disappointed by his colleagues\u2019 small but telling treacheries (and, later, by his own), he\u2019s a master of passive-aggressive mopping. Even when facing away, we see Maher\u2019s shoulders tauten in hurt and anger, before he plunges into the mopwork with furious, silent intent. The scene inspires some of Baker\u2019s best stage directions:
\n\u2013 \u2018They mop in terrible silence together.\u2019<\/em>
\n \u2013 \u2018They \u2026 squeeze out their mop in the yellow bucket and listen to the horrible squeezing dripping sound.\u2019<\/em>
\n \u2013 \u2018He squeezes the mop in the mop bucket with tremendous power\u2026 Sam does not take his eyes off the mop\u2026 Sam is staring into the dirty mop water.\u2019<\/em><\/p>\n

Finally, he goes off to deal with a heinous situation in the gents, and \u2018stoically thrusts the mop up into the air like a sword<\/em>.\u2019<\/p>\n

Sam isn\u2019t unheroic. His work isn\u2019t especially fulfilling, and can\u2019t save the Flick, which hasn\u2019t seen a soldout screening since Slumdog Millionaire<\/em>. He doesn\u2019t ultimately forge friendships, or anything stronger, with Rose or Avery. But he endures, and exits smiling. Not unheroic.<\/p>\n

Friends and people you work with<\/strong><\/p>\n

Soon after I left college, a friend who had begun a Proper Job referred to his \u2018colleagues.\u2019 The rest of us \u2013 working in call-centres, stuffing envelopes with corporate brochures, doing shifts in the box office \u2013 must have looked bewildered. \u2018There\u2019s no such thing as colleagues,\u2019 scoffed another pal. \u2018There are just friends or\u00a0people you work with.\u2019<\/p>\n

For years, I loved her brusqueness\u2026 but as time bites, and righteousness fades, \u2018colleagues\u2019 turns out to be a useful term. It doesn\u2019t pin you down to warmth of feeling. There\u2019s the colleague whose name you can\u2019t remember, the colleague you slept with, the colleague who tried to get you sacked. Stranger, lover, nemesis, are all too revealing. \u2018Colleague\u2019 is safest.<\/p>\n

The mop\u2019s a colleague, and a pretty good one. Undemanding, unambitious, unspectacular. It\u2019s not the prop of dreams \u2013 but it will prop up a life that too often fades to grey.<\/p>\n

Follow David on Twitter:\u00a0@mrdavidjays<\/a><\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

No one selects a mop for its glamour. The mop that appears in the second half of The Flick is dowdier than most \u2013 a disconsolate tangle that once a day swabs the stickier kinds of refuse in a failing Massachusetts movie theatre. I don\u2019t know if the mop I saw at the National Theatre […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":1283,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_genesis_hide_title":false,"_genesis_hide_breadcrumbs":false,"_genesis_hide_singular_image":false,"_genesis_hide_footer_widgets":false,"_genesis_custom_body_class":"","_genesis_custom_post_class":"","_genesis_layout":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[65,322,321],"class_list":{"0":"post-1282","1":"post","2":"type-post","3":"status-publish","4":"format-standard","5":"has-post-thumbnail","7":"category-uncategorized","8":"tag-national-theatre","9":"tag-props","10":"tag-propwatch","11":"entry"},"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.artsjournal.com\/performancemonkey\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1282","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.artsjournal.com\/performancemonkey\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.artsjournal.com\/performancemonkey\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.artsjournal.com\/performancemonkey\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.artsjournal.com\/performancemonkey\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1282"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/www.artsjournal.com\/performancemonkey\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1282\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1286,"href":"https:\/\/www.artsjournal.com\/performancemonkey\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1282\/revisions\/1286"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.artsjournal.com\/performancemonkey\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/1283"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.artsjournal.com\/performancemonkey\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1282"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.artsjournal.com\/performancemonkey\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=1282"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.artsjournal.com\/performancemonkey\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=1282"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}