Three Days of Rain

Directors’ Note (from the program)

Let’s talk about perspective.

In art, perspective generally refers to the way three dimensional objects are represented in a two-dimensional medium. Visual artists will use perspective techniques – the linear semblance of depth – to create a somewhat realistic impression of a space, building, object, or model. Often, they are said to “play with” perspective in order to present dramatic or disorienting images. But it’s an illusion, an artistic creation; sketches on paper will always exist solely in a two-dimensional plane.

Those of us with less lofty artistic talents tend to refer to perspective in a slightly different way: we call it viewpoint, or mindset, or perhaps angle. And we judge the entirety of the world around us based upon it. It is the context through which we filter, judge, and ultimately live our lives.

There are, literally, 12 actual things I know about my father. I know it’s “12” because I’ve made a list. I won’t repeat them here; suffice it to say that all of my knowledge of him comes from stories told to me by my mother, a snippet of conversation from my grandma, and one single photograph. I’ve treated these 12 “facts” as clues, piecing together the imagined character of the man and creating, in my own mind, a full picture of the guy that sired me. But I know it’s not accurate; it can’t possibly be. And I imagine finding a long-lost letter, a tape recording, or better yet, a diary that I can pore over in an effort to expand my view and give me something, anything, to hold on to. I yearn for my perspective to be changed.

In Three Days of Rain, perspective is everything. The offspring of two legendary architects are left to deal with their own perspectives of the past and the parents who made them what they are. The impact of their upbringing is clear: Walker, a self-described “impossible person” is restless and manic. His sister, Nan, is almost obsessively determined to remain “normal,” and Pip, their oldest friend, is shockingly, almost helplessly, happy. And they each believe that they know and understand the parents that brought them up; they define them as effortlessly as they feel defined by them.

But perspectives change. And it’s only when we as an audience are allowed to visit the truth of the past that it becomes clear that stories, photos, and, yes, even a diary aren’t always enough to paint the complete picture of the lives led by those who came before. It takes great force of will to change one’s perspective, just as it takes tremendous effort to reevaluate the judgments we’ve made about the people closest to us. And the truth is: we’re not always successful.

A-MP with JK, October 2022