Response to Ray Hicks
9/4/07 – Ray Hicks: Wicked John, audio recording
Wicked John is a story I know, and I knew going into Hicks’ version of the tale, yet his twisting of tale brought me into a completely new story. Hicks has made this story his own (a “signature tale,” if you will) by granting a depth to the characters and allowing the audience to see why this tale is important: how the tale is about any person and not some fictional buffoon.
The basic premise of the story is simple: Wicked John is a mean man, but by a fluke of fate manages to be kind to St. Peter, who has come from the Pearly Gates to check on earth; so St. Peter grants Wicked John three wishes, and John wishes for earthly goods, not eternal peace; this allows John to continue in his fowl ways till the Devil hears of him and tries to bring him down below, but John’s too wicked – even for the Devil; and the conclusion comes when John finally dies and can’t get into heaven (too many wicked deeds) and can’t get into the hell (the Devil’s scared), so John is forced to float about for eternity trying to find a place to set up his own hell.
This sounds simple, but Hicks has recognized how complex this basic story is: how often a person we view as wicked might just be finding a way through life, and cussin’ is the only way he can; or how that same wicked man might want only earthly peace because he is a man of the land: man who only works with what is solid. Through his portrayal of John in this way, Hicks changes the story from a comic tale of “just deserts” to a sad, human tale of a man trying to make his way through life in the only way he can. Wicked John isn’t “wicked,” he’s just working with what he knows and comes off harsh to many people.
Hicks creates this John by putting himself in the story: he knows John, he has seen John’s struggles, he knows John cusses because its the only way he can let out his frustration, and he knows John only wants to help those that need help. This gives John a human element that I have never found in the adaptations I’ve read or heard of the story. It doesn’t try to justify John’s actions, but it doesn’t criticize them either: John is a working man. We also know Hicks is in the story through the details inserted in the piece: these are details only a man who has lived through could know: we hear of John’s needing to keep the cream on his milk; of his knowledge of how to move cows; of the dangers of leaving a horse shoe half finished. This paints a complete picture in the mind. The storyteller doesn’t need to fill in all the details, but, from the sense of the story I received in his telling, I saw every iota of the scene. Words were not necessary.
As a performance, once again, there was none. This was not a recording of a man “performing” a story; this was a recording of the story. Hicks did not use voices, did not attempt to add emotion to the words, did nothing but tell the story in a slow, steady, southern drawl. This technique reminded me of my workshop with Bill Harley when he said, “You don’t need to add to what’s already there: trust the story.” This is something I am still struggling with in my own work, and am not sure what I feel about the idea, but I do know it is beautiful to listen to: to just let the story speak. While I am still exploring this idea, I feel that each day I learn more about how to explore.