I’m a big fan of the Shrek movies. They enter the world of fairy tales from the perspective of an ogre – a character that has never been painted so sympathetically. But from this perspective, the story – all the stories, really – is turned on its head. Prince Charming, the traditional hero, is a whiny bad guy. His mother, Fairy Godmother, is evil. We are able to see from the point of view of traditional villains like Captain Hook, Rumpelstiltskin, and Snow White’s Evil Queen. Strangely, when the “angle of illumination has altered,” as John Updike wrote in his story “Leaves,” they’re not actually all that bad.

And then there’s the chorus of minor characters: the wise-cracking Gingerbread Man; Pinocchio, whose lies are so obvious he’s a constant source of truth; the wolf and three pigs who eat together; and the love-struck dragon who falls for Shrek’s companion, Donkey. It occurred to me somewhere in the middle of re-watching the final installment in the series that the Shrek movies are animated acts of deconstruction. They are striking examples of postmodernism in popular culture.

As it turns out, film is a fine way to enter into a discussion of postmodernism. I’m taking my cue here from a book by James K.A. Smith, unfortunately titled Who’s Afraid of Postmodernism. Smith insists – like American evangelical philosopher and theologian Francis Schaeffer – that philosophy has a “trickle down” effect into culture. That is, he differentiates between postmodernism, the philosophy, and postmodernity, the time in which we are now living. But postmodernity is permeated with, and perhaps is a result of, the concepts presented in postmodernism. Smith echoes Schaeffer’s assertion that “cultural phenomena tend to eventually reflect philosophical movements.” We can certainly see this in the upside-down universe of Shrek.

But then I started to think, what other parts of our culture bear the mark of postmodernism? Where else have the thoughts of mostly European thinkers from the early to mid-twentieth century nested in our contemporary culture? It seems that the most pervasive residue of postmodernism is my generation’s attraction to irony. Now, irony is not necessarily a tenet of postmodernism, but it is certainly a result of a few of the major ideas that come from postmodern thought: the belief that there is nothing outside of text, and an incredulity toward meta-narratives.

These two concepts come across as rather high-minded, and when they were first introduced, they confused many of their modern audience. But to our twenty-first century minds, they are not that difficult. The idea that there is nothing outside the text is most often attributed to Jacques Derrida, father of deconstruction. It posits that we can’t know anything absolutely, and therefore everything is open to interpretation, like a text. Not too crazy, right?

Another giant of postmodernism, Jean Francois Lyotard, put forth the other big idea – incredulity toward meta-narratives. For him, the biggest problem with modern thought was that certain overarching stories (or narratives) were allowed to make a claim to absolute truth, and do so unquestioned. Certainly religion falls into this category, but then, so does science. In short, anything that claimed to be right “just because” was suspect to Lyotard and his postmodern followers. Again, to our contemporary ears, this doesn’t sound so crazy.

The ironic sentiment that has settled on our generation is a direct result of these two ideas. Once everything is up for interpretation and grand truth-claims are suspect, a detached irony is the only way to safely navigate postmodern waters. The examples are everywhere: tune in to any TV show, read any of our contemporary authors, go to the movies, watch a commercial – irony is everywhere.

This isn’t necessarily a bad thing. When it comes to the open exchange of ideas, would you rather be confronted with somebody who “knows” you’re wrong because they have direct access to truth, or someone who’s skeptical and exhibits her skepticism with a cool detachment?

Neither is ideal. The kind of claims to the absolute that modernity made often lead to solipsism and isolation, and over-irony leads to snark, as David Denby explores in his essay on the subject. An eager sincerity would win the day, but that’s a discussion for another essay.

Irony leaves room for the possibility that minds can be changed, learning can happen, and the door is always open. I maintain that one of the best examples of this in contemporary media is Shrek. Being ironic about the stories we grew up with allows us to see things from a different perspective, to take into account the feelings of those we otherwise would not have cared to consider.

The result of seeing from another’s perspective is generally a broader understanding, a more balanced judgment, and a kinder heart. Maybe Captain Hook really is misunderstood; perhaps the hideous step-sisters have some inner beauty; and maybe, just maybe, an ugly ogre is better served as an analogy for postmodernism than a Broadway musical.

New York City. The culture capital of the world. If you can make it there, you’ll make it anywhere. New York City is where it’s at, because when New York sneezes, the rest of the world catches a cold.

Yet, as I walk from the subway to my office a few blocks from Times Square, I see billboards that make me shake my head in utter dejection for the “culture” we are putting out. Am I referring to the lingerie models twelve stories high? No. How about the nauseating ad campaign for last season’s Gossip Girl, depicting teenagers in the throes of hot, mind-blowing sex (complete with the tag lines “OMFG” and “Every Parent’s Nightmare”)? Ironically, this is not what has my knickers in a knot today.

As sorry as I am to see such a lack of creativity in Hollywood that producers are resorting to really awful television revivals (like the embarrassing latest incarnation of Beverly Hills 90120), I’m lamenting a different unfortunate trend as I read the NY Times and wander past the billboards in Times Square.

I’m actually talking about Broadway.

My first love. The Great White Way. The place where the rubber hits the road for actors. Broadway was once the pasture where the sheep of the stage were distinguished from the goats, the field where the wheat was separated from the chaff. People relied on Meisner or Stanislavski or even Hagen for technique and inspiration, taking lines that were actually conceived and written for stage and acting them out.

Sadly, a leisurely stroll through Times Square shows that the boards are being increasingly clogged up by hit films, cartoons and revivals being adapted for (or remounted on) the stage. When they did it with Beauty and the Beast, it was cute. “Oh look, that’s fun. They’ve adapted a cartoon for Broadway,” I thought to myself. But now we’ve got The Little Mermaid and Shrek (I don’t count The Lion King, because it was such a creative departure from the film). Not to mention stage productions of films like Billy Elliot, Mary Poppins, Young Frankenstein and -in case you missed the memo – 9 to 5.

I’m not even kidding.

That’s right. Workin’ 9 to 5, what a way to make a livin’, there’s no getting by, it’s all takin’ and no givin’ . . .

Besides these adaptations, we have revivals out the wazoo. A Man For All Seasons, All My Sons, Equus (a sure hit, what with Harry Potter doing his own revival of The Full Monty), Grease, Guys and Dolls, Gypsy, Hair, South Pacific, The Seagull, West Side Story and White Christmas.

Are you telling me, Mr. Broadway Producer, that there were so few new shows worth mounting this year that you had to sink to so many revivals of tried and true hits?

Don’t get me wrong – I am all for reviving great plays. I love some of these shows, and have performed in several of them myself (from the list above, I’ve done A Man For All Seasons, Gypsy and West Side Story). But as I look over the list of what’s playing now, and I see mostly film adaptations and revivals, I get a bit bent out of shape. Broadway should be bringing the world new work, showcasing the incredible talent out there.

Now, before I get carried away, there have been some excellent new shows produced in recent seasons. In the Heights and August: Osage County were blips on Broadway’s heart monitor, giving hope that all innovative creativity has not been lost, and that new shows are still being produced. But with more people than ever earning MFA’s in playwriting, is it too much to ask to see some new blood next to the “written by” credit in Playbill? Where are the Anton Chekhovs and Arthur Millers of the twenty-first century?

Well, since you asked, I have a few suggestions. If you’re thinking of investing in a Broadway show, I happen to know that Stephen Schwartz is looking for funding to finally mount his musical Children of Eden, which, despite a successful regional theater run, has yet to appear on, or near, 42^nd Street. This show has been in development for over twenty years (ironically, I was offered a role in the North American premiere production of this show, but had to turn it down). I also know a few excellent composers and librettists who have developed new works for stage, including David Kirshenbaum (whose Yes, Virginia, There is a Santa Claus would make a welcome addition to the Christmas show buffet table, where traditional titles are growing a bit stale) and Gary Pozner (with whom I collaborated on Nautilus, a family-friendly musical produced by Walden Media that premiered in Denver a few years ago).

Am I suggesting these works would be the next Les Miserables or Phantom of the Opera? Not at all. But then again, neither is Shrek, The Little Mermaid or 9 to 5. Yet there they are, defining a new age of Broadway, when a show’s pre-fab marketing plan makes it more viable than its creative ingenuity, book & lyrics or, heaven forbid, incredible acting. (I salute the cast of August: Osage County, who acted their butts off and deserve to be on Broadway. Johanna Day and Estelle Parsons, namaste).

In our effort to contribute to the creation of new culture, International Arts Movement has decided to create a space to showcase emerging playwrights, directors and actors. In April 2009, IAM is producing a weekend of one-acts, featuring three directors and three one-act plays. Melody Erfani, Luann Jennings, and Brie Walker will be the directors, and we are accepting script submissions through the end of January. If you or someone you know is interested, please contact me for more details – my email is christy(at)InternationalArtsMovement(dot)org.

We need new theatre. We need new live stage works. And, call me a big, fat, green ogre, but we need to drastically reduce the campy stage productions of cheesy musicals that belong on DVD, not the boards of Broadway.