The broader area of feminism itself has fought definition since its inception. Those at one end of the spectrum see the more radical feminists as too extreme, and in danger of alienating those that they wish to persuade, while those at the opposite end see moderates as "sell-outs" who would dilute the tenets of feminism to the point of ineffectuality. The first task of the feminist theorist would have to be the formulation of a working definition of feminism. While this will not likely be a definition which would warrant unanimous agreement, it must at least be one with which the individual scholar is comfortable working. Gail Austin reiterates this idea, noting that several formulations of the various "political feminisms" are now readily available, but also cautions against "making categories too important (4). She categorizes herself as a "woman in the cracks" theorist, believing that analysis from a very rigid position within pre-defined categories runs the risk of losing important works which are not easily analyzed from such a fixed stance.

Author and critic Jill Dolan acknowledges the fact that, "writing for people interested in a feminist approach to theatre and performance is a challenging task, since that constituency is large and varied from theoretical, political, and ideological perspectives." She continues to say that, "Any feminist endeavor in this area confronts the problem-- and pleasure-- of diversity among its audience" (ix). While she obviously appreciates diversity within the feminist community, she cautions against any one author failing to identify her own ideological stand before beginning to critique or to write.

Therefore the potential feminist dramatic theorist is faced with choosing a political and ideological standpoint, as well as a particular literary approach. Brown has developed a method based on the theories of Kenneth Burke which she finds most valuable in approaching works of drama. She explains that, according to Burke, all literature has a rhetorical motive. This indicates that the literature "attempts to persuade the audience of its view of the world" (Brown, Feminist Drama 134). She feels that the Burkean methodology is particularly appropriate to feminist criticism, determining a work's "feminist" status by determining whether the play has a feminist rhetorical motive. She believes that this allows one to distinguish between works with a feminist message, and those plays which are written for and about women. She also cautions that her approach must be predicated upon formulating oneÌs one working definition of feminism (Feminist Drama 1).

Ann Hall also makes this distinction, noting that while feminist dramatic criticism has been characterized by a focus on womenÌs works, feminist works should not be limited to those produced by female authors. She believes that the feminist, psychoanalytic approach which she employs allows a greater understanding and appreciation of the female characters in any dramatic work, whether or not the playwright was writing with feminist sensitivities (2).

When Death of a Salesman was first produced in 1949 Linda Loman uttered the famous line, "So attention must be paid," in reference to her husband Willy. Gail Austin notes that at that time no one thought to ask, "What about Linda?" Today, of course, that question is being asked by thousands of people in thousands of different ways. Austin lists some of the questions that might be asked by the spectator, reader or theorist in approaching Salesman:

Is Linda a stereotype of wife and mother? If so, what damage does that image do? What women playwrights were writing in 1949 and how do their plays differ from MillerÌs? Is Linda a male construct of an idealized "Woman" who reinforces the desires of the dominant ideology in this culture? What problems are caused by such a play being taken as "realistic"? Should plays like this be deconstructed in production in order to demonstrate the mechanisms by which they manipulate the audience? (1)

Austin goes on in the remainder of her Feminist Theories for Dramatic Criticism to meld feminist theory with four other fields-- literary criticism, anthropology, psychology, and film theory-- to analyze works of drama. She also delineates the two fields of dramatic literature and live performance, each of which lends itself to feminist critique in very different ways.

Following are analyses of two very different plays, by two very different American playwrights, illustrating the application of some of the viewpoints and principles discussed thus far. The first work reviewed is 'night, Mother by Marsha Norman; the second is Buried Child by Sam Shepard.

Marsha Norman has been identified as "perhaps the most successful author of serious feminist drama working in the U.S. today" (Brown, Center Stage 60). Her work naturally, then, lends itself readily to feminist criticism and feminist praise. One of the major focal points of feminist psychology has been the relationship between mother and daughter and its ramifications in the life of an adult woman. Thousands of pages have been written in journals, novels, and works of non-fiction exploring this relationship, but dramatic works which investigate this mother-daughter bond from a womanÌs point of view are extremely rare. Gayle Austin sees NormanÌs play Înight Mother as a drama of "the ultimate severing by the daughter of the bond with her mother" (67). She quotes Jenny S. Spencer, from her article 'NormanÌs 'night Mother: Psycho-Drama of Female Identity":

The need for a daughter both to detach her love and yet to identify herself with the mother in order to acquire a "normal" gendered identity, and the need for a mother to support the childÌs project of autonomy despite mixed feeling regarding separation, is the drama that Jessie and Mama symbolically enact in the play. (67)

Mama: How can I let you go?
Jessie: You can because you have to. ItÌs what youÌve always done.
Mama: You are my child!
Jessie: I am what became of your child. (Norman 1477)

'Night, Mother, then, is a feminist drama which does not choose to illuminate oppression of women or the dominance of the patriarchy, but instead uses drama to explore a relationship universally meaningful to women. In this manner it illustrates another brand of feminist drama and another means in which drama can be used to enrich the lives of women and of humanity in general.

Analysis of Sam Shepard's Buried Child

Sam ShepardÌs plays provide fruitful territory for the feminist critical theorist. He has been accused in his earlier plays of "present[ing] the action from a male perspective while ignoring female characterization" (Hall 92). Felicia Hardison Londre has labeled his early plays ShepardÌs "mindless macho period" (20). Ann Hall comments, "In these early plays women are props for male performances; mothers merely highlight the complicated oedipal relationships between fathers and sons; and men frequently must escape the clutches of a spoiled, sexually and emotionally demanding female" (92). She further notes that, following a stay in England, ShepardÌs work took a noticeably "domestic" turn. The focus became family, and female characters became more fully developed than in his past work. Hall expresses views which she feels are contrary to many feminist critics: she believes that "in his later plays, Shepard in fact depicts the quest for masculine power as deplorable or ridiculous, while he presents the female characters sympathetically. The female characters are frequently represented as the calm amidst the macho storms, frequently offering flexibility in the face of destructive male rigidity" (95). Buried Child (1979) can be seen as a prime example of this "Shepard-reformed" genre.

The family is hiding a heinous secret and a woman, Shelly, enters the scene and disrupts the uneasy equilibrium which has been established. She senses the presence of a dark secret behind the nightmarish environment in which she has found herself, and encourages Tilden to break the family pact and reveal that secret to her. Hall sees the home as the "house of the dead," epitomized by Dodge, the "corpse" on the sofa who attempts to rule the house and its occupants despite his state of impotence and decay. This monarch of the "male wasteland, its forms and laws." (Hall 98) even makes the attempt to continue his reign beyond the grave, choking out his instructions for the dispersal and disposal of the farm and its contents just before his death onstage. One is reminded of Ephraim Cabot and his own compulsive efforts to retain complete control and possession of a farm, after death if possible via a male heir. In this instance, however, Dodge chooses to bequeath his goods to the child whom he knows to be not his own, rather than to his own sons.

One of the female characters is Halie, wife of Dodge and mother of every other male character. She has bought into the lie which has ruled the family for years and thus has given up any power that she might have possessed to make positive changes in her own life or those of her remaining children. When Dodge make the decision to reveal the family secret to Shelly, Halie clings desperately to the false reality that they have lived in for years; she ignores ShellyÌs existence and perpetually reiterates that things will soon be back to "normal," that this chaos is out of the ordinary, that Shelly must show her respect in her own home. She becomes frantic at the suspicion that Dodge is about to divulge the truth: "Dodge, if you tell this thing-- if you tell this, youÌll be dead to me. YouÌll be just as good as dead" (Shepard 1318). She continues to look for assistance from a man- Father Dewis, Ansel, any man-- as the situation continues to deteriorate:

Ansel would have stopped him! Ansel wouldÌve stopped him from telling these lies! He was a hero! A man! A whole man! WhatÌs happened to the men in this family! Where are the men! (Shepard 1319)

An Introduction to Feminism and the Net

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