Science on stage: why would a chemist wish to write plays?

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To write "science-in-theatre" does not require that the author be a scientist. But what about the converse? Why have so few "hard" scientists--and no chemists at all, as far as I am aware--become recognized playwrights, whereas physicians have made major contributions, with Anton Chekov or Arthur Schnitzler leading the list? Is it because chemists deal primarily with abstractions at the molecular level, whereas physicians spend their days listening to the stories of other human beings? Even the most scientifically invested plays succeed, if they do, because they work at the human level. Or is it that since the 17th century, all formal written discourse of scientists is always monologist, whereas the theatre is the realm of dialogue?

Perhaps none of those generalizations is the reason, yet it is that last one that tempts me the most. Especially when I consider my own forays on the stage, which for space constraints, will be the sole subject of this essay. I find dialogue so stimulating, both as audience and author, that an exceptionally high proportion of my "science-in-fiction" (not to be confused with science fiction) takes place in dialogue rather than narrative. I first became intrigued by the idea of "science-in-theatre" when I was working on the third instalment, Menachem's Seed, (1) of my science-in-fiction tetralogy. The science of that novel involved reproductive biology as seen by a childless woman scientist preoccupied with childbearing. Much of the factual information of that novel concerns the current high-priority area of assisted reproduction and the reasons why research on contraception is moving off the main stage.

Unlike famous playwrights such as Bertolt Brecht, Friedrich Durrenmatt, or Tom Stoppard, to mention only a few, who mostly used science metaphorically for theatrical aims, I started from the opposite side, in that I wished to use the stage for smuggling scientific culture or concepts to a general, non-scientific audience--in other words, for pedagogic or even didactic purposes. In spite of the danger in admitting such motivation, what encouraged me was the Roman poet Horace' s famous prescription from Ars Poetica, "lectorem delectando pariterque monendo. Delighting the reader at the same time as instructing him." Even though I understood from the outset that for any play to work, it had to end up on the stage facing a live audience that did not come to be educated, but rather entertained.

As the didactic component for my first play, An Immaculate Misconception. (2) I chose the most ethically charged reproductive technology of them all, ICSI or intracytoplasmic sperm injection--the direct injection of a single sperm into an egg. The timeliness of the topic (illustrated below by a brief dialogic excerpt) was probably the reason that since its premiere in Edinburgh in 1998, the play has been translated into 12 languages, printed in book form in four, and broadcast by the BBC World Service, National Public Radio (in the U.S.), and the Swedish, German, and Czech radios.

MELANIE In my scenario, the 21st century will be called "The Century of Art."

FELIX Not science? Not technology?

MELANIE The century of ... A ... R ... T (Slow and deliberate): assisted ... reproductive ... technologies. Young men and women will open reproductive bank accounts full of frozen sperm and eggs. And when they want a baby, they'll go to the bank to check out what they need.

FELIX Once they have such a bank account ... they might as well get sterilized.

MELANIE Exactly! If my prediction is on target, other forms of birth control will become superfluous.

FELIX (Ironic) I see. And the pill will end up in a museum ... (Pause) ... of 20th century art?

The relatively rapid acceptance of my first play can in large part be ascribed to the timeliness of the topic and the inherently dramatic aspects of human reproduction that in An Immaculate Misconception were presented through sophisticated audiovisuals--a feature commented upon by all the reviewers. But as a chemist turning into a playwright, I wanted to see whether chemistry could also be presented as effectively oil the stage as, say, sex. I had the good fortune to find a partner, Roald Hoffmann (a Chemistry Nobel laureate to boot, whose article appears on p. 20 of this issue of ACCN). He was interested in joining me in such a theatrical experiment. Just as I tried in my first play to hide my didactic motivations behind the scrim of sex, in the second play, in Oxygen, (3) Hoffmann and I did this by taking up a theme--the Nobel Prize--that, at least to scientists, is potentially also sexy. The year 2001 was the centenary of the Nobel Prize; it is also the year in which our play is set. hi Oxygen, the Nobel Committee decides to celebrate the centenary by establishing a new Nobel Prize, to be termed a "retro-Nobel," to honour inventions or discoveries made before 1901, the year when the first Nobel Prizes were awarded. What's wrong with paying attention to the dead for a change?

Oxygen attempts to deal with two fundamental questions--what is discovery in science and why is it so important for a scientist to be first? In Oxygen, we approach these questions as our imaginary retro-Nobel Committee meets to select, first, the discovery that should be so honoured, and then--as it turns out, not a straightforward question--which scientist to credit for it. Again, let me use a dialogic excerpt to illustrate the problem, which in this play is based on careful historical research:

ASTRID ROSENQVIST Now let me summarize whom we've got so far. John Dalton as father of the atomic theory ... Dimitri Ivanovitch Mendeleyev for inventing the periodic table ... August Kekule for the structure of benzene ... and of course, Louis Pasteur. All of them first class--and a nice geographic spread: an Englishman; a Russian; a German: and a Frenchman ...

ULF SVANHOLM And for a change, no American!

ASTRID ROSENQVIST Another advantage for concentrating on the 19th century. Or earlier. But for the first retro-Nobel, we must recognize where modern chemistry began.

SUNE KALLSTENIUS In other words ... with the discovery of oxygen.

ASTRID ROSENQVIST Who'd like to come up with some simple phrases to explain to the public that without the discovery of oxygen, there would've been no chemical revolution ... no chemistry as we now know it?

BENGT HJALMARSSON I'll give it a try. Prior to Antoine Lavoisier ...

SUNE KALLSTENIUS You mean prior to Carl Wilhelm Scheele ...

ULF SVANHOLM What about Joseph Priestley?

BENGT HJALMARSSON Right back to the usual Nobel quandary! Too many candidates.

Since its theatrical premiere in 2001 at the San Diego Repertory Theatre, the play has been translated into 13 languages, performed in many countries, and published in book form in eight languages as well as broadcast by the BBC World Service and the WDR in Germany. There is little doubt that its pedagogic utility and its didactic touches have been responsible for its success and its extensive use in academic circles.

In my third "science-m-theatre" play, Calculus, (4) I explored further the drive for priority among scientists through a dramatic presentation of one of the most famous and notorious priority struggles in science--that between Newton and Leibniz concerning the inventioin of the calculus. I shall let Newton's voice in my play present the viciousness and solipsistic preoccupation with wishing to be first:

NEWTON My question is who discovered the method first. Priority is exclusive. It is an absolute, quantifiable fact.

LEIBNIZ Quantifiable?

NEWTON One man is first[ Be it by years, weeks, hours, or even minutes.

LEIBNIZ (Sarcastic): Is that not carrying mathematics too far?

NEWTON You will rue the day when you issued this challenge, Mr. Leibniz! Whether you found the Method of Fluxions ... (Disdainful) your calculus ... by yourself is not the question. I shall appoint a Committee of the Royal Society to deal only with the question who was the first inventor. And I shall see that they do not stray from that narrow path! (Pause). The Committee will treat Leibniz as second inventor, because (Slow and Load) second inventors have no rights! None!

The subject matter of Calculus was engaging enough that it not only resulted quickly in translations into German, French, Spanish, Italian, and Portuguese, but was also converted by the composer Werner Schulze into a chamber opera that was performed four times in the Zurich Opera Studiobuhne during the "Year of Physics" in 2005.

My interest in using the theatre format to explore behavioural and cultural aspects of scientists led me in Phallacy (5) to examine the quirks and idiosyncrasies of art historian and scientist, when they examine the age of an art object from their grossly different perspectives--aesthetic and art historical connoisseurship versus cold material analysis. I also wanted to explore the ramifications of a well known character fault that transcends the gulf been art scholar and scientist--falling in love with a favourite hypothesis and defending it against all comers and new evidence. The following dialogue between Regina, the art historian, and Rex, the chemist, will provide a flavour for my agent provocateur style.

REGINA You see, this is what I find so I infuriating. You slavishly follow the rules of chemistry you learned as a student ... lessons you now teach to your students ... who will then teach it to their students, it's sterile crap ...

REX (Outraged) Crap?