Thursday evening, the Hopkins Center offered the Dartmouth community an opportunity to see this week's performance of "A Prairie Home Companion" as a live HD broadcast in Spaulding Auditorium. The program which included all of the traditional segments of Garrison Keillor's weekly radio variety show, as well as performances by Sara Watkins, Joe Ely and the roots quintet Old Crow Medicine Show provided the audience with a host of comic and musical delights.
The weekly live radio program distributed by Minnesota Public Radio to a variety of radio stations across the country was first conceived by Keillor in 1974. Since then, the show has gathered a devoted following and garnered critical acclaim for its humorous comedy sketches that explore the idiosyncrasies and hypocrisies of small-town American life, also providing fodder for a feature film in 2006.
Each week, Keillor delivers a monologue about the fictional Midwestern town of Lake Wobegon, "where all the women are strong, all the men are good-looking and all the children are above average," as Keillor always quips. Keillor has said that his own Midwestern upbringing in the largely Lutheran town of Anoka, Minn. provided the inspiration for his satirical Lake Wobegon stories.
Thursday's Lake Wobegon monologue was hilarious, as usual. In his trademark deep and rhythmic voice, Keillor described a visit to his aunt's farm that ended in disaster. After a trip to the outhouse, an adolescent Keillor decided to venture outside naked for the first time. In the barren wilderness of his aunt's farm, with no one around, Keillor said the feeling was completely freeing, describing a sense of total liberation until, that is, he tripped. After losing his balance, Keillor slid painfully down a hill of hay and briars, landing crumpled, whimpering and distinctly naked at the bottom of the hill at his aunt's feet. While recuperating on the couch, he recalled hearing his aunt discuss the possibility of taking him to the hospital, which conjured satisfying pictures of mourning siblings and parents gathered gravely around the young boy's hospital bed in Keillor's imagination. Soon, however, Keillor realized his aunt had absolutely no intention of taking her naked nephew to the emergency room, an epiphany which prompted him to get up from the couch and, without a word to his aunt, retire to his bedroom.
Similarly amusing was the program's "Guy Noir, Private Eye" sketch. Capitalizing on overwrought dialogue and ridiculous storylines, the weekly Guy Noir segment chronicles the dubious doings of an archetypal private investigator character, voiced by Keillor. This week, Guy Noir was approached by a man who wanted an investigation of his new love interest, a woman he met online. The man's lover, an advertising exec, turns out to actually be an elderly woman disguised artfully as a much younger woman. The woman's brusque manner, as well as her stories of successfully advertising Minnesota tap water as fresh (and pricey) bottled water to Europeans, elicited much laughter from audience members. In this case, being able to see the facial expressions of Sue Scott, the actress who played the elderly advertiser, enhanced the experience of viewing "Prairie Home Companion."
Personally, however, "Prairie Home Companion" works better as a radio show. In general, I find it more enjoyable to listen to the actors and singers than to watch them, and I wouldn't want to watch the show every week. It is more exciting to picture a dark, brooding Guy Noir visiting clients in shady locales than to watch actors deliver dialogue with scripts in hand. It is far more hilarious to imagine a young Keillor sliding buck-naked down a hill than to watch the adult version tell the story into a microphone. Even the musical acts including the energetic Old Crow Medicine Show and the extremely talented Sarah Watkins are somewhat more enjoyable when heard rather than seen. For example, I found the show's many close-ups on Watkins face distracting. Yes, the singer is beautiful, but so is her music. There is something about just closing your eyes and listening to Watkins' sweet voice that beats even watching her perform.
Still, there are some benefits to watching the show rather than hearing it. For one thing, the show's sound effects men are simply incredible. Rather than using computer-generated effects, Tom Keith and Fred Newman make all the sounds featured in the show from explosions to ping-pong games, wild animals to crying babies using just their vocal chords. Granted, the show's minimal set includes a small wooden door to make the sound of a door opening and closing and a small box with a pair of shoes to create the effect of footsteps, but otherwise Keith and Newman are completely on their own.
Being able to witness the pair's extraordinary ingenuity and enthusiasm helps give "Prairie Home Companion" fans a new perspective on the radio program. I saw the show in person over the summer, and since then I've been sure to pay close attention to all the sound effects on the weekly show. You can't really grasp how amazing Keith and Newman really are until you've seen them in person.
And I mean, actually, in person. I laud the movement toward HD cinecasts, such as the National Theatre Live's broadcasts of shows from London's West End, because they help make cultural opportunities more widely accessible. In the end, however, culture is most exciting when experienced both live and in person. The television screen is a form of mediation between audience and performers, an impenetrable wall that ultimately cheapens the artistic experience. It was cool to see Keith and Newman strutting their stuff on the big screen, but I didn't get the same "wow" feeling as when I saw the duo in person. On the television, they seemed distant, out of reach and somehow just a little bit less real.