Mad Theatrics

2012-01-23T10:40:00.000-08:00

THEATRE OF NOISE
part one

The Rocky Horror Show receives a standing ovation in Singapore.

“The theatre of noise is the theatre of applause.”
- Peter Brook, The Empty Space

Why theatre?

To delight another human being is the greatest social act. It is a positive gain for both parties -- nothing is lost or transferred but rather multitudes are created in the moment.

All theatre boils down to peekaboo. Peekaboo is the paradigm of structure and pacing:

You can see me.

Where did I go?

Here I am!

And the crowd goes wild.

We are a social animal, unique in our ability to observe, imagine possibilites, solve problems and above all communicate complex mental constructions. Where there is no language to explain an abstraction, we invent the language!

We are natural storytellers because we are natural forragers. We ferret out the dark corners to better understand the world around us. This is survival. When personal experience is impossible or undesireable, we turn to our fellows for enlightenment. Literally we rely on each other to throw on the lights and show us something we've never seen before.

Let's try to answer this question, "Why theatre?"

Theatre is a life-size diorama that changes over time. As a theatre maker I will reveal a specific circumstance for the audience to view and allow that circumstance play out.

Am I holding a mirror up to nature or attempting to shape nature with Brecht's hammer? Am I teaching the audience or learning with them? My motive is irrelevent. I am merely relaying experience.

What is the audience doing? Well, why do people rubberneck at car accidents? To see what happens. To experience something vicariously. To better understand the world around them through observation. It doesn't matter how abstract or meaningless the art -- the artist is conveying something, and the audience is assimilating that communication into their own psyche.

You can remove the script, the set, the costumes. You can light with whatever is to hand, provide sound in whatever way you care, or omit both altogether. You can fly without a booth, with out ushers, without a box office. But you cannot lose either performer or audience. That is the core of the experience. So long as you focus unrelentingly on reaching the audience, you’ll hit more than you’ll miss.

Theatre as an artform is not a zero sum game. The more you give as either performer or audience, the more you receive.

2012-01-22T22:47:00.000-08:00

Alfred Hitchcock's The 39 Steps

A Review

To me, of all the genres, suspense and comedy share the most qualities. How they take similar approaches in their mechanics to storytelling and interacting with the audience to incite, although very different, but very specific reactions would make it seem like turning one of Hitchcock’s classic thrillers into a comedy make near perfect sense.

In a thriller you build anticipation toward a catharsis. In a comedy you do the same. In a thriller you surprise people with a twist or keep them off guard by staying a step ahead of them. In comedy you make people laugh by surprising them and staying a step ahead as well. If someone knows the joke is coming, or twist – you’re dead in the water. In a thriller you keep the stakes high so you never know if the main character will make it out alive. In a comedy the stakes need to be even higher so when something happens to the characters and they respond accordingly, you laugh. But you have to believe in those stakes!

As a filmmaker Alfred Hitchcock knew how to deal with these things extremely well. He also knew how to build suspense, create 3-Dimensional characters you cared about, had pitch perfect timing, delved into wit and irony, shocked you while staying true to the story and characters, he knew how to tell a coherent story that involved you from beginning to end…all crucial elements when approaching comedy and all elements that La Mirada’s misguided Alfred Hitchcock’s the 39 Steps lacks.

Real quick, the synopsis is – well, the same as the film. Watch it, you’ll enjoy it more and it’ll cost you less. As with any film noir, the main character Richard Hannay, played by Andrew Borba, is your common man, who becomes entangled in something much bigger than he’s ready for, but rises to the occasion. Because of his penchant for falling in love with any woman he lays eyes on, he brings a German dame (Dana Green, who plays the menagerie of love interests throughout the show) back to his house. This mysterious woman tells him she is in danger, and fills him in on a secret plot to steal something out of the country called the 39 Steps. She needs his help to get to the people who are behind this, only she’s murdered in the middle of the night and Hannay is accused of it. So in order to clear his name he has to go through the dangerous process of uncovering the mystery and bringing down the bad guys.

Sounds intriguing, right? However, the problem with this first scene is the problem that never goes away. The comedy undercuts any level of reality, or sense of story, so the stakes and the conflict are yanked out from underneath the actors before anything of interest can happen. And I was excited to come see the show. To tell you the truth, I’m excited to go see any live theatre. I want it to be good and succeed. I am also a theatre artist. But I will not kiss ass (as I saw so many people in the lobby doing after the production) when something is simply not good.

This production is filled from beginning to end with such an unnecessary amount of gags and actors mugging and repetitive chase scenes that you cannot watch a scene play out from beginning to end without someone throwing their hands in the air, trying to force a laugh out of nothing and sucking out all opportunity to build dramatic tension. And yes, even in a comedy, you need dramatic tension. Everyone from Monty Python to Bugs Bunny to Mel Brooks knows this. But the director, Jessica Kubzansky seems to have no idea how to build one off of the other; silliness for the sheer sake of it and silliness without wit – perhaps an even bigger problem. You might argue, but “The Producers” was silly for the sake of being silly. Not quite. Max and Leo feel fear, pain, love, regret – all of the things that make them human and worth watching. You want them to succeed (or in their case not succeed.) In “39 Steps” Hannay is played as a cypher – you never believe that he won’t make it out of any given situation alive. He seems almost completely unaffected by a woman who has been murdered in his flat that incites the story in the first place. And they use what could have been a human moment to build comedy from, even in that moment, into a thankless gag - give us some meat! With the barrage of meaningless, meandering jokes that follow, there are simply no surprises. You can time out when someone is going to introduce a gag and usually be correct.

This is unfortunate as I saw Matt Walker (playing multiple roles as Clown #1) in Fleetwood Macbeth not long ago at La Mirada and he was hilarious. Here he grabs a few chuckles, mainly with throw away lines, of which there are few. Also, Green seems like a capable actress who makes the best of the proceedings, sometimes having been given the most bewildering things to do. Borba, has little opportunity to portray any depth or fear as the lead character and mostly runs around like a pinball in a video game. It isn’t until he meets the main and final woman in his life that some of the scenes with Ms. Green play out with a sense of playful subtlety and wit and life (three words lacking the rest of the show.) Alas, when those moments come around – it’s too late. David McBean, as CLOWN #2 brings energy, but the jokes are flat.

The 39 Steps is labeled a farce; it was nominated for several Tony Awards in 2008 and won lighting and sound, so I can only imagine that this show can be good – a scrappy homage with a big budget coming on the heels of other like minded comedy homages. Although here, even the set and lighting design feels like a disarray of ideas lazily pieced together, influenced by someone who had a film noir movie on in the background.

Alfred Hitchcock’s The 39 Steps

Adapted by Patrick Barlow
Directed by Jessica Kubzansky
La Mirada Theatre for the Performing Arts
Continues through Sunday February 12th.

2012-01-22T17:00:00.000-08:00

Phillip Kelly

Please say hello to Phillip Kelly, whose review of The 39 Steps will grace these pages shortly.

I met Phillip at Write Act Rep, where we were both members. I was struck by his talent and commitment as an actor. Backstage, we conversed frequently about live entertainment and small theatre in particular. From these conversations arose a desire to strike out and form our own theatre company, which we did in 2009 with a small group of friends. For two and a half years, he was my Artistic Director at Theatre Unleashed, and we endeavored to put our money (and time and effort) where our mouths were. We had far more successes than failures at TU, and I'm proud of what we started.

Outside of TU we developed an idiosyncratic comedy act, Mr. Snapper & Mr. Buddy, performing in burlesque shows, variety shows, and the occasional birthday party. Currently Phillip is producing a new sketch show under the Die Grüppe banner he created at TU (a show I wrote for and perform in) and co-hosts the Advice to the Players podcast with Shakespearean savant Jonathan Redding.

Phillip is a good friend, a trusted partner, and an artist whose opinion I greatly value. I hope you will enjoy his insight as much as I do.

2012-01-20T12:41:00.000-08:00

COME TO OPENING NIGHT

I've been promoting that sketch show I'm in on Facebook, and something occurred to me: For any show, you want friends and family to come to the first couple of nights. Sure, it's great to see friendly faces in the audience whenever. But in order to harness the potential for word-of-mouth, you need to have those friendly faces and their friendly mouths in early enough that they'll have time to promote the show.

Asking anyone to promote something sight unseen is ridiculous. You want your friends and family to actually see the thing they will be promoting. First, they can determine whether or not they should promote it -- Die Grüppe's show is beyond risque in places and not everyone is going to feel comfortable posting the name of the show, let alone encouraging people they know to go see it. Second, the experience of the show is what will create "passionate evangelists." After I saw Re-Animator: The Musical, I wouldn't shut-up about it. Ask anyone. Before I saw the show it was, "Yeah, I'd like to see that." A virus won't spread unless a person is infected, and you infect people with the actual performance, not just the promise.

Why should they come as early in the run as possible? Word-of-mouth needs time to spread. You want your biggest supporters to have as much time as possible to get the word out!

I'm in this show and it opens tonight. Please come see the show! I hope you enjoy it, and if you do I hope you'll tell a friend.

2012-01-19T15:14:00.000-08:00

One-Person Shows Suck

Some rights reserved by Dioboss

Do I have your attention? Good.

Almost a year ago, I ran across an interesting idea that I hadn't seen tackled in a theatrical format (although it is arguably theatrical in it's own right), the presentation format known as PechaKucha.

PechaKucha Night was devised in Tokyo in February 2003 as an event for young designers to meet, network, and show their work in public.

It has turned into a massive celebration, with events happening in hundreds of cities around the world, inspiring creatives worldwide. Drawing its name from the Japanese term for the sound of "chit chat", it rests on a presentation format that is based on a simple idea [...]

"Chit chat." Nice. I read about this and shot an email to Phillip Kelly, pitching the idea of "PechaKucha Theatre." Well, we haven't done anything with the idea, so I'm throwing it out there.

PechaKucha 20x20 is a simple presentation format where you show 20 images, each for 20 seconds. The images forward automatically and you talk along to the images.

6 1/2 minute long, one-person shows with accompanying slides.

03. Why invent this format ?
Because architects talk too much! Give a microphone and some images to an architect - or most creative people for that matter - and they'll go on forever! Give powerpoint to anyone else and they have the same problem.

One-person shows go on too long, too. Limit a performer to the most important 6 1/2 minutes of their life, and now we're talking.

The PechaKucha format could be an interesting way for production teams in a theatre company to pitch their proposals for the new season. The Artistic Director of a theatre company could come out and do a little 6 1/2 minute dog and pony show about upcoming productions. You could put an interesting and new spin on the shopworn "24 Hour Play" concept. It could be used for playwrights in developing their work. Theatre companies could present themselves or their seasons at a special PechaKucha session at the Hollywood Fringe Festival.

Or you could do an evening of incredibly personal, incredibly riveting one-person shows. Personal, because it is storytelling at its most basic. Riveting, because there is a ticking clock.

2012-01-19T10:10:00.000-08:00

DISCLAIMER

Cartoon by Hugh McCleod. If you don't follow him, subscribe to his daily email, etc. WTF is your problem, exactly?

I write a lot of things on this blog. Every now and then I get the feeling I should remind my readers--and myself--of one very important thing:

I don't know anything. Yeah, I've done some stuff. I've written, directed, and produced. I've seen a lot, read even more, and have an annoyingly high opinion of my ability to forecast eventualities. But at the end of the day, I'm just guessing, just opining. If you don't like what I have to say, rest assured I've been known to hold two contrary opinions at the same time and/or change my mind when new facts reveal themselves. "Why, sometimes I've believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast."

I try to stay open-minded and curious, even when I come off as stubborn and argumentative. Sometimes argument is my way of sorting out what I really believe. Most of the time, probably.

Often enough, I am wrong. So please disagree with me, but please don't think I don't care deeply about the subjects I address.

And so I leave you with a quote from Hugh McCleod, author of How to Be Creative:

It is so easy in business to lose your desire to learn and grow. One thing we see with successful creators in business, arts, culture. It doesn’t matter the area, is a desire… need… drive… to stay curious.

They ask questions, probe. Always looking to connect unrelated things to make something better, smarter.

Ask questions, stay curious, and don't ever let up on yourself.

2012-01-17T13:24:00.000-08:00

A Synergy of Story and Storyteller

Frans Hals, Jester with a Lute

One of my favorite screenwriting bloggers, Scott Myers is writing a series on the famous "Katzenberg Memo," now 21 years-old this month. (Read the entire memo along with some history here.) Today he tackles the section entitled "Stories That Make Us Care." Writes Katzenberg:

It is the story that people remember. It is the story that gives the movie business its extraordinary power to impact the world.

Part of what makes a story work is mystical. Its originality, its theme, its characters, its dialogue — all these are undefinable ingredients that contribute to the alchemy of a successful story.

But, given this, there are still some overall guidelines of key importance in telling a good story. Most important of these is the need to create one or more central characters who confront something elemental about themselves by the end of the film. This sounds much more cerebral than it is.

As previously opined on this here blog, I believe that in small theatre the personality of the storyteller is just as important as the story being told.

Which leads me to a new thought: Small theatre is an extension of the bardic tradition:

More influential than even the poetry, however, were the great storytellers and musicians that passed on legends and histories from tribe to tribe. Enigmatic entertainers, these sages communicated carefully constructed tales through lyrics and rhyme without cultural prejudice or politics. Wearing the colors of all lands, but under the thumb of none, these men of strong voice and heart became known as the bards.

Epic poetry can't recite itself.

It raises some interesting thoughts and possible directions. It coincides perfectly with the idea of bespoke theatre and a rebellion against assembly-line theatre. It hints at a way to create a true sense of community in the theatre without resorting to shallow antics. I need to stew on this a bit more ...

2012-01-12T12:22:00.000-08:00

Not Even Factories

Whilst reading about "just in time" manufacturing, a thought struck me: Not even factories want to be factories any more.

Under 99 seat theatre has the luxury of being poor. Being poor affords the opportunity to dream up clever solutions. We all know (I hope) that working in the arts is not factory work. We actually have a leg-up on other entertainment outlets in that live theatre is, by its very nature, just in time. So why not embrace that aspect of the art?

Why do theatre companies announce a full year's worth of shows in advance? I understand why larger companies with subscriber bases do this -- their customers are paying for a year's worth of theatre in advance. But why do small theatre companies do this? The artform is ephemeral. It's here today, gone tomorrow. When you lack the resources of the “big boys,” your best bet is rapid prototyping.

We have the ability to respond to emerging events in the world (and in our neighborhoods) in an immediate and personal way. We can do this and I know our audiences appreciate it when we do. Passion is attractive. Being hit by inspiration, and riding a cresting creative wave to completion is exciting for the artist and the audience.

Don't get me wrong: Following a trail that someone else forged is fine. But predictable, assembly-line theatre just seems like a waste to me.

2012-01-09T12:51:00.000-08:00

It's a Living(?)

I was going to comment upon this great article I read on Gamasutra by Andrew J. Smith, entitled "Be Honest, Be Nice: Marketing And PR For Indie Developers". Gamasutra is a website devoted to the business of video game development, and this article popped up in their "Independant Games Newsletter." I see similarities between indie game developers and indie theatre producers. I was going to extrapolate out a comparison between the two on the topic of marketing and PR, and what we could learn from this article.

But this sentence stops me cold:

That said, it's extraordinarily hard to make a living as an indie, and that's traceable to the skills associated with running a business.

I'm not trying to be an asshole by asking this, but how many of us are really trying to make a living in theatre? Hell, I'm not. Not as a playwright, at any rate. I know the figures -- If Tony Kushner can't support himself as a playwright, what hope does any other playwright have?

We're not making a living, we're making art. I want to punch myself in the nuts for typing that line, true though it may be. Every time I read some theatre person attempting to redefine "professional" to mean something other than "getting paid to do it," I cringe a little. Sure, you can comport yourself as a professional and make jack shit in the way of scrilla, but who are we kidding?

(Actually, comportment is covered under the dictionary definition of professional: "following a line of conduct as though it were a profession." "As though it were a profession." Ouch.)

Bitterness and Pessimism Aside ...

There are some interesting points that those of us making indie theatre can take to heart:

As an indie, one of the major factors you've got going for you -- one that bigger companies struggle to harness effectively -- is that you have a personality. It doesn't have to be yours, although with Spilt Milk I make certain it is mine. What this boils down to is that you must have a very strong, consistent voice with which to communicate your message.

If people know and trust what you say, and if they are familiar with the tone because it is consistent, they will most likely feel some kind of connection with you (and your games) as a result. It's a relationship that you're embarking on, and you have the power to make it so much more personal and affecting (as well as effective) because of how close you are to your audience.

Nice, huh? You don't have to act like a "big" company. You can just be yourself -- that's really what you're selling. The storyteller is just as important as the story at this scale, if not more important. Don't get me wrong -- the story has to be good. But the appeal of live theatre is that it's live, and that means human interaction. I want to tell you a story.

I realize a lot of people reading this will think that I'm talking self-aggrandizing bullcrap. That it's an incredibly self-centered and vain way of doing things. You may be right, and you may not want to follow my advice. But hear this -- if you don't think what you're doing is interesting to people, then why are you doing it?

Indeed.

Mr. Smith goes on to say some interesting things about marketing to platform holders, not just to players. This makes me wish more venue managers would partner with production companies. Imagine, instead of ponying up a deposit on a space, selling the venue manager on the show. Imagine having them as an active business partner, not just a landlord. Ah, one can dream.

2012-01-06T12:06:00.000-08:00

Crying with Laughter or Just Crying

I saw this chart today via the Hope for Film blog:

Inspiring! The chart was generated by Moviesparx. They have a very interesting service for sale, and if you make indie films, I recommend you check them out.

So I saw that chart, and got to wondering what a similar chart might look like for indie theatre producers. Behold:

Not entirely fair (apples and oranges and all that, and I could have put a tag for "merchandising") but close enough. The economics of what we do is effed in the a.

2012-01-05T11:45:00.000-08:00

Crowd-Sourcing Theatre

Every now and then disparate ideas otherwise remote from each other will hit me at the same time, forming a synergistic union that results in ... well, a blog post, I suppose.

FIRST: "Physicists Seek To Lose The Lecture As Teaching Tool" a story from NPR's All Things Considered:

HESTENES: The classes only seem to be really working for about 10 percent of the students. [...] And I maintain, I think all the evidence indicates, that these 10 percent are the students that would learn it even without the instructor. They essentially learn it on their own. [...] Students have to be active in developing their knowledge. They can't passively assimilate it.

It's a very interesting (and short) story. Basically, these physics professors have found student involvement is more engaging than a professor standing at the head of the class droning on about Newton's law of gravity (or whatever they're teaching these days):

HANFORD: Eric Mazur's physics class is now completely different. Rather than lecturing, Mazur makes his students do most of the talking.

UNIDENTIFIED WOMAN: OK. So repeat what you said.

UNIDENTIFIED MAN #2: Well, so, like, basically, like, if you have the capacity to put up the battery...

HANFORD: The students in this class - there are nearly 100 of them - are in small groups discussing a question. Three possible answers to the question are projected on a screen. Before the students started talking with each another, they use a mobile device to vote for their answer. Only 29 percent got the question right. After talking for a few minutes, Professor Mazur tells them to answer the question again.

MAZUR: So wrap up your discussions and enter what you now believe to be the correct answer.

HANFORD: This time, 62 percent of the students get the question right. Next, Mazur leads a discussion about the reasoning behind the answer, and then the process begins again with a new question. This is a method Mazur calls peer instruction. He now teaches all of his classes this way.

MAZUR: And what we found over now close to 20 years of using this approach is that the learning gains at the end of the semester nearly triple.

Interesting, but what does it have to do with theatre? Well, at this point in the blog post, I usually defer to Peter Brook, Seth Godin, or David Mamet. So ...

When you come into the theatre, you have to be willing to say, "We're all here to undergo a communion, to find out what the hell is going on in this world." If you're not willing to say that, what you get is entertainment instead of art, and poor entertainment at that.

-- David Mamet, 3 Uses of the Knife

The solutions for generating this feeling of communion seem to range from post-show Q&A's to encouraging the audience to "live Tweet." But what if there was a way to significantly involve the audience in the action? Okay, that exists. It's called "Murder Mystery Dinner" or "Point Break Live". But I'm aiming for a deeper involvement, a deeper connection.

"... [creating theatre] is not just a question of wooing an audience. It is an even harder matter of creating works that evoke in audiences an undeniable hunger and thirst."

-- Peter Brook, The Empty Space

Another physics professor, Joe Redish says "With modern technology, if all there is is lectures, we don't need faculty to do it. Get them to do it once, put it on the Web, and fire the faculty." Likewise, why go to the great expense of time and money just to perform the same script over and over? Get your cast to do it once, put it on the Web, and stop wasting money on venue rental.

(Dammit. I'm back to asking "Why Theatre?" again. I seem to write the same blog post at least once a month.)

SECOND: Theatrics Mass Participation TV. "Mass Participation TV allows anyone to join in an ongoing story. You can become an actor and create and play a character, or just watch and explore the story."

Visit the site to get the full experience. The contest angle ("ULTIMATE ONLINE AUDITION CONTEST" with celebrity judge Jonathan Frakes) and the whole "You could be seen by a BIG HOLLYWOOD CASTING DIRECTOR!!!" thing seems kind of cheesy, but it's an interesting idea. A crowd-sourced series.

Now, I have a low opinion of the creative faculties of Groupthink.

But I have to recognize the ability of a group of individuals charged with solving a problem. Lost fandom is a perfect example. Back before we knew how it would all end, the community at sites such as The Fuselage and Dark UFO generated mind-blowing analysis and theories about the show. There was also that group of gamers who found a possible new treatment for HIV. I'm willing to concede that a group of people working towards some identified goal, playing with expertly crafted tools (narrative or biochemical) can in fact generate good content.

WHAT DOES IT ALL MEAN: We live in a town of incredibly talented artists. Writers, actors, musicians, craftspeople -- it's really insane. I mean it, it's insane how much talent lives in this sprawling metropolis. Why not let them sing for their dinner? Let's say we have a short run of a play -- something steeped in mystery and mythology -- and then turn the whole thing over to the audience. Provide them with a universe to play in, and let them build on it. After a few months of letting the story grow, reconvene for a second play that builds on the crowd-sourced elements and pushes the story into new directions for the audience/collaborators to explore.

The facilitators/dramaturgs who manage the experiment and build the occasional live theatrical event will draw from the elements the audience/collaborators provide, perhaps even casting performers from the group.

There would have to be some system for the group to determine if group generated content should be considered "canon" or not.

The whole thing would have to be produced under a Creative Commons license of some sort.

And how to pay for the thing? Crowd-sourced fundraising, of course!

IN CLOSING: What do you think? I'm just spitballing here, and the more spitballs the merrier. Comment below or shoot me an email and let me know what you think.

2012-01-04T15:49:00.000-08:00

Support PuppetVision: The Movie

"Using interviews with and performances by over sixty puppeteers from at least fifteen different countries, this film is going to share amazing work by amazing artists and have them talk about how they create it and why."

I've never met Andrew Young in person. We are longtime acquaintances via the internet and the wild and (literally) wooly online puppeteering community. I have tremendous respect for Andrew -- his PuppetVision website is a well-tended, thoughtfully edited clearinghouse for international puppetry news. His plan for a documentary of the current state of the art is a movie I want to see.

And you should want to see it, too. Puppetry is a vibrant, sophisticated theatrical artform. There is much to be learned from the artists who make it happen, and Andrew is uniquely positioned and qualified to bring their stories to the screen.

Let's help Andrew make his film happen. His fundraising deadline is coming on quick. Please visit his IndieGoGo page and kick him a few bucks: PuppetVision: The Movie.

2011-12-31T19:39:00.000-08:00

PERMANENT INK

2011

Parker Duofold nib / Parker Duofold tollhegy (János Fehér) / CC BY-SA 2.0

Here's Bright Everlasting!
Here's a Crumb of Forever!
- Louis Bogan, I Saw Eternity

What a fantastic inaugural year! This is not a perfect list, but I've come around to believing in the old canard "don't let perfect be the enemy of good." There will be a few changes made for next year's list, but I'll get into all that later (I can opine and comment on another day. It's New Year's Eve!) I will say this: I did actually check to see if these plays premiered in 2011 in Los Angeles. So to the individual or individuals who tried to slip one past me: Nice try, but no dice.

What follows are the top five original, unpublished plays that debuted in Los Angeles in 2011, as determined by a wholly unscientific survey. In the coming days (once I've had a chance to vet them to ensure they indeed premiered in Los Angeles in 2011) I will publish an "Honorable Mention" list of the plays that didn't make it into the top five.

Without any further adieu, I present the 2011 Permanent Ink List!

Small Engine Repair
by John Pollono
Premiered March 25, 2011 at Theatre/Theater. Presented by Rogue Machine Theatre.
Read review excerpts on Bitter Lemons: 100% Sweet

Summary:

Welcome to Frank's Small Engine Repair Shop where men behave badly and deep secrets are revealed... in this gritty, candid and darkly comic exploration of friendship, alienation, loyalty and social networking. An alcohol-soaked, Bro-mantic Thriller.

The War Cycle: Gospel According to First Squad
by Tom Burmester
Premiered July 28, 2011 at Powerhouse Theater. Presented by Los Angeles Theatre Ensemble.
Read review excerpts on Bitter Lemons: 100% Sweet
Summary:

The highly anticipated third installment of Tom Burmester’s War Cycle, Gospel According to First Squad, takes place in the Theatre of War. On the brink of civilization in Eastern Afghanistan, deep in the deadly Korengal Valley, the men of First Squad walk the tightrope between boredom and terror everyday. In a valley lit by firestorms of chaos, courage can be proved by a casual walk to the burn-shitter. As First Squad navigates the human terrain, winning hearts and minds from the Taliban, a new addition to their team threatens their mission, the populace, and their dreams of home. Gospel According to First Squad will take you on a tour of duty -- as an American -- that will shine a light on our mission, our morals, and asks what you will do -- or won’t do -- to keep your freedom.

Quicksand Rising*
by Markietha Ka'Von
Premiered April 9, 2011 at the NoHo Performing Arts Center
Summary :

"Quicksand Rising" is a show that's based on the abusive relationships encountered by one woman. It entails her struggle to rise in the midst of extreme chaos as well as the unraveling and rebuilding of spirit. In the midst of struggle to survive in a world where relationships threatens to pull her under; this woman fights to rise out of quicksand, taking courageous steps to take control of her life.

Monkey Adored
by Henry Murray
Premiered October 8, 2011 at Theatre/Theater. Presented by Rogue Machine Theatre
Read review excerpts on Bitter Lemons: 77% Sweet
Summary:

When the monkey is taken to the animal testing lab, the dog must choose between his loyalty to humans and the use of violence to free the animal he loves.

Part wartime drama, part tender love story and part sex farce, Monkey Adored follows the exploits of a group of animals in a human-dominated society.

Hermetically Sealed
by Kathryn Graf
Premiered October 14, 2011 at Skylight Theatre. Presented by The Katselas Theatre Company
Read review excerpts on Bitter Lemons: 93% Sweet
Summary:

The May family has its daily routine; the oldest boy comes home from partying at dawn the same time his mother, Tessie, begins her work baking cakes. At noon, Tessie wakes her younger son, Conor, and throughout the afternoon Tessie bakes cakes and Conor plays video games.

This day-today works just fine, helping them maintain a private, isolated world where they can keep their secret carefully concealed and almost evade their unspeakable pain.

This evening, however, when Tessie’s boss picks up the cakes, their carefully balanced life may be undone.

And that's the list! A big thanks to everyone who played along, forwarded the link, and especially to Bitter Lemons for calling me a mad genius. Let's do this again next year, shall we?

* I had a difficult time finding any information about this play, and it seems to have been performed for one night only. If anyone has any information about the show, including any critical reviews, I'd be very interested to learn more about it. It obviously had a very enthusiastic fanbase.

2011-12-20T13:51:00.000-08:00

Biting Footbullets

This:

Walking to my car, I feel disgust and disappointment with the world. This whole evening has been so amateurish, so insultingly half-assed, it is as if the theater had stood up and said “Fuck you” to me. It’s even colder now, and I have to wait while my heater skims the frost from the windshield. I drive home to someone who loves me and I taste my bile a little less sharply.

(Read Jason Rohrer's entire piece at Bitter Lemons.) Boy howdy, have I been there. But what really drew my attention was this comment from Gedaly Guberek:

This is what happens when artists have a business that needs to stay open. “We need to keep producing non-stop in order to pay rent.” I don’t think you need an MBA to see the problem with this [lack of a] business model.

That has been my experience, exactly. There was a time when I crowed about the old company producing twenty to thirty individual productions over the course of a year. I was a fool. You shouldn't chart theatrical success in numbers of productions, certainly not at the Under-99 level. Success (and ambition, for that matter) at the margins is reflected in quality, not quantity. Any idiot with access to a space and enough gullible friends can slam together a season of thirty individual productions. Successful companies (like Rogue Artists Ensemble, for example) put their resources behind a small number of thoughtfully and artfully rendered productions.

It sounds like a backhanded compliment, but it's really not: The best shows I've seen at the Under-99 level looked and felt like college productions. In college we had the luxury of time; of stock costumes, set pieces and props; of practically living in our theatre spaces; and -- in most cases -- a guaranteed budget for each show. To replicate that level of polish at the Under-99 level is nothing short of ... what's that word I'm looking for? Oh yeah.

Professional.

2011-12-13T10:09:00.000-08:00

2011 PERMANENT INK

Some rights reserved by Valeriana Solaris

Let's do this thing.

Let's generate a list of the best original, unpublished plays to debut in Los Angeles in 2011.

"The Black List" takes votes from studio executives. Well, we're looking at produced plays, so I think we should include all comers: Artistic Directors, other playwrights, critics, audience memebers, and all folks in between. It may prove to be a big mistake, but we're going to do this on the honor system.

Just like The Black List, this isn't a "best of" list, it's a "most liked" list. Voting will be closed on December 30th, and I'll publish the results on New Years Eve. So vote, forward the link, and spread the word. It will be interesting to see how this plays out!

Click here to participate

2011-12-09T10:36:00.000-08:00

The Fright Before Christmas

Art by Noel Belknap

Phillip Kelly and I produced our second variety show this past weekend, The Mr. Snapper & Mr. Buddy Rumpus Revue in: "KRAMPUSNACHT!" The through-line had me and the Rumpus Revue regulars playing a prank on Mr. Buddy. Since he had been a naughty boy all year, and since he still believes in Krampus, we decided to mess with Mr. Buddy a little bit. Little did we know that the REAL Krampus (played to the hilt by Scot Nery) was on hand. The through-line played out in bits and sketches between the acts.

Performing on our stage this time:

Comedy and Burlesque by Meredith Tittle (aka Honey Ima Home) and Red Snapper
Music by the Incredibly Odious Ari and the Capable Miss Puddles
A rap performance by Jayk Gallagher
“Gravinipulation” by our Craigslist Wildcard, Broadway Brian

We also had the usual slapstick hijinks of Chase McKenna as Billy and the absurd mimery of Jacob Smith as Pistachio the Mime. Phillip Kelly and I performed a couple of songs as well. At an hour and a half long, we need to either change our pitch or start calling ourselves “The Longest Hour-Long Variety Show in Los Angeles!”

Here are some observations and lessons learned:

Have a fall-back plan to cover for emerging issues. Holy smokes, the sound cue worked in rehearsal. But when it came time for Red to wow us with her fan dancing awesomeness, the sound cut out. As our booth op and the theatre manager struggled to fix it, Jake and Scot took the stage with some general, unrehearsed Tomfoolery. It worked in a pinch, but I think we should have a rehearsed bit that we can throw in as needed. (If it’s rehearsed we’ll probably never need to use it!)
Los Angeles is a crazy talented town. Our Craigslist Wildcards have practically stolen the show both times. These are complete strangers, folks, people we’ve never seen perform. The talent we know that we book are likewise incredibly talented. It boggles me that we are able to book such amazing artists.
We book acts that entertain us. This is the secret to a consistent variety show. Granted, we’re going for a patchwork quilt type of show; a Muppet Show-esque collection of eclectic acts. But since they are acts that Phillip and I book, they reflect our tastes, and our tastes define the show. Now, there is one thing that sucks about booking acts that you love: When you’re backstage preparing for the next bit, you can’t watch the performers you’ve booked.
Know your collaborators, trust your collaborators. Comedy depends upon trust. If you can’t trust the person you’re onstage with, you will hold them at arm’s length and nothing will land. You have to know and trust the people you share the stage with. That doesn’t mean you have to like them! I can hear the objection already: Laurel and Hardy couldn’t stand each other at the end, Martin and Lewis fought, etc. That may be the case, but onstage they knew they could trust the other performer. When that trust goes away, the partnership ends. (As it so happens, I love my collaborators.)

I would like to write a few words about Noel Belknap, the artist whose work has featured on our first two postcards. In short: She is terrific! She perfectly captures the fun and fancy-free spirit of what Phillip and I do. The image above set the tone for our show, as all good postcard art should. Connecting up with Noel was serendipitous!

I will have photos before too long to share (from Markus Alias, another great artist!), and hopefully some video. In the meantime, enjoy this classic Mr. Snapper & Mr. Buddy performance:

2011-12-01T09:16:00.000-08:00

A Hard Knock Life

A stimulating read at HowlRound today, by Howard Sherman:

I wonder whether the not-for-profit theater is guilty of what we accuse “popular culture” of doing, that is to say, constantly embracing the new and abandoning anything that can be accused of being “so five minutes ago” (as is that particular phrase). Do we lionize only the true hits and consign the vast body of literature engendered by and created for our stages to the dustbin of history? Yes, you can browse for them at the Drama Book Shop in New York or the Samuel French shop in Los Angeles, but beyond that, they require archeological hunts, facilitated by sites both commercial (Amazon) and altruistic (the dizzyingly thorough Doollee.com). But how many never even saw publication, relegating them to permanent anonymity?

I wonder if there is any research on the number of new plays that debut each year? The number of new shows in Los Angeles is dizzying; I can only imagine that in more "dedicated" theatre towns, the numbers are greater.

There is a huge wealth of material out there, most of which will never be seen again. It's kind of depressing to think about, particularly if you're one of the playwrights generating that material. I wonder what is being done -- or could be done -- to facilitate the archeological hunts that Sherman mentions. Doollee seems to be a step in the right direction. Perhaps there is something we could do regionally to help producers find underproduced gems? Something as simple as Bitter Lemons adding a "original work" tag to their LemonMeter would make it easier for producers to search for the best reviewed new plays.

Here's a thought: We should put together our own version of "The Black List." Instead of a list of the best, unproduced screenplays, we could generate a list of the best original plays produced in Los Angeles in the previous year. Such a list might just encourage play producers in other cities to consider producing our homegrown drama. Perhaps other cities would generate their own lists, and we could exchange and share our wealth.

This list would be specifically for unpublished original plays, the exact sort of work Sherman says are relegated "to permanent anonymity" for lack of publishing.

Where to start? Digging through the LemonMeter for 100% sweet debuts? Emailing critics? Asking Ovation voters? I wouldn't mind doing the tabulation, but I'm not sure where to start ...

2011-11-18T12:21:00.000-08:00

Regarding Neo-Burlesque, Hobbyists, Professionals, and the Illuminati

At BurlyCon 2011, I had the pleasure of attending Kate Valentine's (aka "Miss Astrid") "Neo-Burlesque State of the Union Address." It was refreshing to be present to a bold and positive statement of observation of an artform I love, and to take part in the passionate yet incredibly civil conversation that followed. I'm a big fan of asking yourself, "Why?" and seeking out solutions to what may be ailing you.

Valentine's address has been published at 21st Century Burlesque, and it has sparked off an incredible conversation in the burlesque community-at-large. One of the biggest points of contention seems to be a distinction Valentine draws between "hobbyist" and "professional" burlesque performers.

There are two different arms of the current neo-burlesque world. One is the hobbyists, what I call Stitch n’ Bitch burlesque performers. They are huge fans of the genre and they got involved because they wanted to explore their sexuality, their body issues, or their love of retro clothing. They wanted to find a community of like-minded, fun, supportive party people. Then there are the career professionals. They may come from a background in theatre or dance. Most of them pursue burlesque as their full-time career or in addition to their other artistic work.

Please read the entire thing, and take the time to read through the comments.

I have a few observations on the "hobbyist" vs. "professional" dichotomy:

A hobbyist does it for themselves (i.e., their own gratification) a professional does it for others (i.e., an audience.) Example: A hobbyist may have a basement full of beautifully detailed miniatures hemming in an N-guage model train track. A professional works for Weta and Peter Jackson. Both may be equally passionate, equally skilled, and equally knowledgable about their craft. Only, one does it because it makes him or her happy, and the other does it to make other people happy.

You see this in performance as well: A tribute band that is happy just to get together and jam out in the garage vs. a band that gigs.

A hobby can easily become a career, if the opportunities are there.

I think Valentine makes a good point, even if the semantics are a bit tricky. There is a difference between someone who is just happy to entertain themselves versus someone with the drive to entertain others. Unfortunately, the difference seems to be highly subjective.

With live performance, we need an audience for the art to actualize. The model train enthusiast doesn't have to leave his basement to have a good time. Eventually the garage band will have to venture out of the garage. And so there is a fine line between "professional artist" and "hobbyist." Just ask the IRS.

In the comments, Valentine clarifies what she meant by these terms:

When I personally think of a professional performer I do not really think of someone who only does burlesque. So few people make a living solely on burlesque. (and only one person in the world makes a really good living at it!) So I suppose I think of people for whom burlesque is one arm of their performance career who are also musicians, or actors, or dancers, or whatever. I would *never * define what makes someone a professional artist based on financials. Livings must be made however they do. I would base it on: will you be on stage in 15 years? Do you possess skills which make you desirable to work with and a pleasure to watch on stage? If the word burlesque did not exist would you still be on stage somewhere somehow? At the end, the terms Pro and Hobbyist (or whatever term you don’t despise) are largely self-defined. I do not think Pro=Good and Hobbyist=Bad. I see these as groups with different priorities and expectations.

So why should you, the average theatre person care about this discusion?

First, The hobbyist/professional dichotomy exists in live theatre. We've all seen and/or been a part of shows that were largely "hobbyist", "professional" or some combination of the two. Second, what Valentine says about quality is absolutely true of the legit stage, and it's one of many dead horses I beat on a regular basis here:

What you must understand is that if you do a bad show it is wrecking it for everyone, including the people you probably idolize.

An audience is a precious, precious thing. They have a gazillion entertainment options, most of which don't involve emoting and shitty production values.

Finally, and perhaps most importantly, this is how you lead a discussion about the state of an artform. Not by gathering the illuminati together in a room with a whiteboard to spitball the same shit they've been saying in private conversations for years. You lead a discussion about the state of an artform by making an observation, postulating a cause, and suggesting a solution. You lead by stating your case, and standing behind your words. Kate Valentine is my hero.

2011-11-15T09:24:00.000-08:00

The Last Time I'm Going to Beat this Dead Horse*

Of the thirty-four Ovations awarded last night, only ONE went to a dues-paying company.

And that was a design award.

* Yeah, sure. I make no promises.

2011-11-10T09:29:00.000-08:00

An Ocean of Starfish

Photo © Dennis Mojado. Made available under a Creative Commons license.

NEWSFLASH! Seth Godin wrote something brilliant:

In a world of endless choice, it's mathematically obvious that something's going to get picked, but you, you the creator, the marketer, the one with something at stake--you're not at all concerned about something. You're concerned about you and your product.

The "Long Tail" only benefits the aggregator. It has always been thus, and always thus shall be. When I first started reading web 2.0 stuff, new marketing philosophy, and all that jazz I really came a cropper over two things, both highly touted by the vastly overrated Chris Anderson: His entire "Free" fantasy and "The Long Tail." The latter in particular seemed 1) not particularly new or revelatory and 2) of absolutely no use to the individual content creator.

YouTube embodies the "Long Tail." There are hundreds of thousands -- perhaps millions -- of videos that have been seen by a handful of people. It's fortunate that such a marketplace exists, but you are literally competing with bad webcam videos of people lip-syncing to crappy songs. Good luck

When we first started shooting "trailers" for our plays at the old theatre company, it seemed incredibly novel. For Pin-Up Girls, we tried to extend the theatrical experience into the videos by scripting and shooting prequel vignettes (here, here, and here). A great idea! Not one of those videos has cracked a thousand views, three years after being uploaded. I blame Keyboard Cat.

To their credit, Bitter Lemons has featured such video trailers (including this creepy and evocative video for The Woodsman, produced by the old theatre company.) I hope they keep doing it. Bitter Lemons embodies the advice Seth Godin leaves off with:

If you're a starfish, then, don't sign up with the long tail guys. Build your own universe, your own permission asset. Find a tribe, lead it, connect with it, become the short head, the one and only, the one that we'd miss if you were gone.

There is little doubt in my mind that Bitter Lemons is the online hub for the Greater Los Angeles theatre tribe (if such a thing could be said to exist). Yes, they are also an aggregator, but such a tightly focused aggregator, you don't feel like you get lost in the "Long Tail."

Bitter Lemons facilitates dialogue, provokes thought, and periodically goes through existential moments where they actively evaluate what they are doing. All of this is healthy, and it's something that I wish more theatre companies would do.

Bitter Lemons is the kid on the beach, tossing starfish back into the ocean, and it does make a difference. I am proud to be a tiny, virtually insignificant part of what they do, and of the tribe they are factually leading.

2011-11-04T10:58:00.000-07:00

A few weeks ago my wife and I flew to Seattle for Burlycon, the "community-oriented professional growth and educational convention for Burlesque performers, fans, and aficionados." This was my first time to a major, international burlesque event, and I was absolutely blown away. I’m really impressed by the organization of the event. It’s HUGE, yet it feels very laissez-faire. That has got to be a tough balancing act, and Miss Indigo Blue and company manage it splendidly – and in heels.

I really dig the community spirit in Seattle. The selfless dedication to burlesque – in short, the number of volunteers! I’m not sure such a show would work in Los Angeles. We are awesome and all, but somewhat disconnected. That’s Los Angeles. The sprawl is in our bones. (Also, I like how I just referred to this convention as a “show”.)

I attended classes and panels covering subjects from obscenity law to touring to how to twirl ass tassels. Here are just a few things I learned:

Your marketing should be so good that you could conceivably sell it. This came up in the touring panel, and they meant "sell your marketing materials" quite literally. But it got me to thinking about a larger point: Would someone pay for one of your postcards? Would they line up after the show to have a performer autograph a poster? (I've seen the latter happen after Peepshow Menagerie shows!) I've been in shows where people "stole" posters off the telephone poles almost immediately after they were put up. I've been in plays where stacks of drab postcards gathered dust in a corner. Which scenerio would you rather have?
If you can't entertain in a press release, how the hell do you expect to entertain on stage? Jonny Porkpie, the Burlesque Mayor of New York blessed us with this tidbit of awesomeness in his Press Release and Branding class. He's right. We're entertainers, not your run-of-the-mill company announcing the arrival of the new widget.
If your venue isn't excited to have you, find another venue. Seriously. Baby Doe, the producer behind Tiki Oasis is a genius, and this was just one of many genius things she conveyed in her producer's class. You want to be on the same page with your venue. Better yet, you want them eager to have you and easy to work with!
"Perfection is the most useless goal any artist can have." And that is a direct quote from Miss Astrid, emcee extraordinaire. You've heard the saying, "don't let the perfect be the enemy of the good," right? I believe the point Miss Astrid is making is "don't let the perfect be the enemy of fucking doing something." Miss Astrid is very audience oriented, and if you know me, I took an instant liking to her. As an entertainer, we are there to provide the audience with an experience. The audience owes us nothing; they already bought their ticket.

Scott Ewalt provided an incredible survey of the history of male burlesque. That hour and a half alone was worth the entire trip!

Knowledge shared, lessons learned, new friends made, sense of community greatly enhanced -- needless

2011-11-03T12:50:00.000-07:00

Marketing the Desirable

It has been almost a month since he posted it, but Jon Keevy's blog entry about marketing keeps bubbling to the surface of my thoughts. It may be his opening:

Theatre is great. Most anyway. Actually only some. But 90% of everything is crap and people don’t avoid cinemas because 90% of the films suck.

I have a theory on this (surprise, surprise) but I'm not going to rehash that here. (Read it if you're interested.)

Keevy makes some excellent points that bear thinking about.

Look, I don’t have a degree in marketing or sales or anything other than theatre. But I can see that if you are not giving people reasons to see theatre then they won’t. I go watch shows because I work in theatre, I have a professional interest. So if you see me at your show it’s not because you did anything right. You can only measure that by counting strangers.

I wonder sometimes just how insular the world of theatre is. "Friends and family" is my usual shorthand for what I see as the broadest cross-section of the theatre-going audience. At least at the chicken scratch level of Equity waiver.

Yet in the burlesque world, total strangers make up the majority of any given house. There are hardcore fans to be sure, and performers will attend each other's show out of professional interest, as Keevy says. But somehow this very rough sort of theatre has little problem packing people in. Perhaps it's the half-naked women? Well, okay. But there are far more bikini bars and strip clubs in Los Angeles than there are burlesque shows. So what gives?

Keevy's point is that successful shows tell people what is being offered, and then deliver that thing. You can't argue with the simplicity of that assessment, but there is one thing missing from the equation: Offering something desirable.

Live entertainment depends upon the attendance and active involvement of other people and we must consider what will appeal to them. "First rule in roadside beet sales: the most attractive beets on top."

"Those are the money beets."

Keevy knows this, of course. I know he knows this because he's making theatre that people want to see. For some people, it's second nature. It's like there's some sort of "entertainer gene" that drives them; a "somnambulistic certainty" such as what filmmaker Fritz Lang said drove him. "Instinct" is another word for it.

First, make desirable theatre. Second, make people aware of what you're doing. Third, deliver.

Rinse, repeat.

2011-11-01T10:50:00.000-07:00

Another Kind of Green Theatre

Since it's an ephemeral art, it's too easy to make "disposable" theatre; theatre that wastes resources and winds up in the landfill at the end of the day. If you've ever ended a strike by cramming the final pieces of a set into an overflowing dumpster, you know what I'm talking about. Also if you've ever had to pay the electric bill.

Sometimes we repurpose and recycle for economic reasons, not because we are trying to cut back on waste. Maybe we don't want to use that same bar unit that has been in every play we've produced since we slapped the damn thing together. We have to use it because it's the piece we have. Green out of neccesity.

There's another kind of "green" if you will, a kind of conservation that it would behoove us to pay attention to. The expense of this wastefullness isn't obvious, not at first. But I guarantee you'll feel it over time:

For many organizations, power and growth come from the idea of having lots of customers and even more potential customers. Lots of eggs, lots of baskets. [...]

For a few organizations, the opposite is true. One basket, cared for and watched carefully. When no one else can focus on and serve that customer as well as you (because you have no choice, it's your only basket) you have a huge obligation but you also have a platform to do great work.

Is your organization wasting audience? Wasting relationships with other companies, venues, or artists? Seth Godin makes the pitch that individualized attention opens the door to great work. Wasting an audience or a business contact or a fellow artist will bite you in the ass. Eventually you will run out of eggs, and be left holding the basket. Do great work instead.

2011-10-27T01:23:00.000-07:00

Death to Dues

art by Hugh MacLeod, commissioned for C. David Gammel

I've been meaning to tackle this subject for some time, in language hard and unflinching. A list of references out the wazoo, maybe even an interview with an Actor's Equity rep. Truth is, I'm too busy doing things (i.e. producing, writing and performing) to write a massive expose on the subject. Maybe someone with more time on their hands will pull the string on this moth eaten sweater, and make the frontpage of Backstage, LA Weekly, or at least get a bump on Bitter Lemons.

That this is not as big a controversy as casting director workshops once were is a testament to how marginalized theatre is in this town. You remember casting director workshops, right? Actors paying for access to casting directors under the auspices of a class? Some were legit, sure. Many of them weren't. There was a pretty big stink made, and now if you want to deliver a casting director workshop, you have to be bonded and licensed. Even to this libertarian, that sounds like a good idea. Los Angeles makes actors do stupid things. Paying people for a chance to be seen is one of those things.

I've ranted about how unconscionable the dues-paying model is (here). For those of you too lazy to click through, here is the salient point: If a theatre company cannot fund itself with fundraising and box office receipts alone, it doesn’t deserve to exist. Too harsh? I co-founded (and since left) a company that started with the dues-paying model as a way of funding ourselves. We called it our "life blood". Keep in mind, if it looks like I'm pointing fingers, I'm just as guilty of perpetuating an unethical system as the next guy.

A few things to consider:

Per the Los Angeles 99-Seat Plan, "The Producer may not, in order to supplement the production budget, request or require financial contributions or loans; accept kickbacks, tuition, fees, assessments or payments of any kind from cast members or Stage Managers." (Note: This language does not specify "4 As members" but rather the more general "cast members.") A company producing under the 99-Seat Plan that also requires its members to pay dues is in open violation of the plan.

93% of the companies that produce Ovation-worthy theatre in LA are NOT dues paying companies, based on a survey of the 44 companies who were nominated for the 2010/11 season. There are only three companies that charge dues, and two of those companies offer some sort of regular acting class in exchange. I realize that correlation is not causation, but it is worth it to note that arguably the most professional theatre being produced in Los Angeles doesn't dip its fingers into its actor's pockets.

A professional is one who gets paid. That's the simple, dictionary definition. I'd say an actor who is serious about her craft, who applies professional standards yet defers payment is still, in essence, a professional. But what would you call an actor who applies the same professional standards, yet pays to be a part of a theatre company? Considering how much theatre is produced in this town that doesn't require remuneration from the cast?

One of the arguments I've heard in defense of the dues-paying model is "It keeps the flakes at bay." The absolute illogic of this statement is staggering. If anything, the dues-paying model keeps the flakes in charge. Think about it: If your company's life blood comes from the actors and not the audience you may rarely feel the pinch of bad programming, low production values, etc. Fundraisers can break-even or barely profit, and no one will really notice. In short, you don't have to try as hard. The dues-paying model is unethical, amateurish, and ultimately a hindrance to creating better theatre.

If you run a dues-paying company and it seems too scary to go cold turkey and drop the dues requirement all at once, you could take baby steps. Maybe switch to a "Pay What You Can" model for dues until you have the confidence to get rid of them all together. People seem to love the PWYC model. It does great things for audience numbers and box office take, or so we're told. Maybe extend the same courtesy to your company members that you extend to your audience.

Finally, what's good for casting director workshops is good for dues-paying theatre companies. Theatre companies dead set on maintaining their dues-paying model ought to be bonded by the State of California. A $50,000 bond ... now that will keep the flakes at bay.

2011-10-26T14:13:00.000-07:00

Sketch Comedy Sucks

Never in my wildest dreams did I see myself as part of a sketch comedy troupe. A mime troupe, maybe. Possibly a dance troupe. Like every other young man in America, I had visions of perhaps making it to Saturday Night Live -- as a host if not a regular cast member. This was a vision fuelled by men such as Phil Hartman and Mike Meyers, and far too many lonely Saturday nights spent at home in my teen years.

Flash forward [muffle-muffle] years, and here I am. Hollywood, California. Geographically and culturally removed from "Live! From New York!" by a continent-sized ... well, continent. And what have I learned?

Sketch comedy sucks. It's too often done poorly, with little rehearsal or attention to sound comedy writing. It co-occupies a niche of suck with bad improv (which is to say "most" improv); a lonely cubbyhole of despair full of cheap shots, easy targets, and pandering. My God! The pandering!

To say "I hate sketch comedy" would be too strong, too virulent, and too truthful. But I also love sketch comedy, when done "right." What do I mean by "right?"

The moment when Dave Foley realizes he's eating eggs that Chicken Lady laid.

Whenever Robert Webb begins singing "Devil's Gallop," whilst manically running around.

When Phil Hartman's Anal Retentive Chef discovers a piece of pepper that is bigger than the rest.

When the cast of "The Jew, The Italian & The Red Head Gay" and (inexplicably) "Godspell" catch their breath after singing the theme song.

In a word, when it's funny. To be a part of a sketch comedy troupe and be able to live with myself, it has to be good. It has to be funny.

Die Grüppe was forged at a theatre company Phillip Kelly and I helped co-found, and is now under the umbrella of Merry War Theatre Group. We (and by "we" I mean a talented group of writers and performers that I consider myself lucky to be counted among) have been hard at work crafting a new show. The material is written, a director is on board, and we are narrowing in on dates. Die Grüppe is back.

We just went live with our Facebook page. Give us a "like," won't you?

2011-10-19T09:47:00.000-07:00

REINVENT

From Hugh MacLeod (author of Ignore Everybody, among other things):

There’re a lot of smart people out there starting and driving businesses focused on changing the way we do things—especially in marketing and technology. Unfortunately, far too many companies still rely on tweaking what exists as opposed to reinventing.

I can personally vouch for the "tweaking what exists" when it comes to theatre. You do what you know, and you tweak that. It takes considerable courage and drive to part with preconceptions of How Things Ought To Be and really get down to building a company that really does something that matters. Worse, it takes no effort to tweak away while convincing yourself you're reinventing.

There's a great quote from my favorite sci-fi author, Robert Heinlein, from his book The Cat Who Walked Through Walls:

The hardest part about gaining any new idea is sweeping out the false idea occupying that niche. As long as that niche is occupied, evidence and proof and logical demonstration get nowhere. But once the niche is emptied of the wrong idea that has been filling it — once you can honestly say, "I don't know", then it becomes possible to get at the truth.

I don't know. I study, I theorize, I opine, I experiment, but I don't know. And I hope I never do. It keeps me flexible.

Hugh again:

So it comes down to knocking out some walls, and encouraging others to do the same. You’ve seen what this old method can do, so get it out of the way to let new ideas work some magic for a little while…

Until, of course, it’s time to trash that for whatever is next.

I've said it before and I'll say it again: Theatre is the phoenix's art. If you're not reinventing, what the hell are you doing?

2011-09-27T07:54:00.001-07:00

Five Lessons from Cirque du Soleil

Oh, for a muse of fire that would ascend
The brightest heaven of invention!
- Henry V

Oh Patti, Patti, Patti. You're a doll and we all love you. But you're just wrong:

Cirque du Soleil - it's the big, bad brother now. Cirque du Soleil taking a five-year lease on Radio City Music Hall is going to suck Broadway dry. ... If you don't know a particular playwright or a particular play and you're facing a huge ticket price, what are you going to do? You're going to go with what you know, and more people know Cirque de - the tourists come and people know Cirque du Soleil. They really are, I think, ridiculous now. Go back to Montreal.

To be fair to Ms. LuPone, her publicist offered a bullshit retraction some days after the above quote was published. To be honest, although I think she's wrong I admire the fire and passion in Patti LuPone's original statement. I kind of wish she had stood by it. Anyway.

Don Shirley asks the question of Cirque du Soleil's new Los Angeles show, Iris, "what's in it for us?" Actually, I'm not going to pick on Don Shirley. He has some good ideas for how the folks at Cirque could lend a hand to Los Angeles companies that are struggling, just as Cirque struggled in the very beginning. You should read the whole thing.

I will say that I believe Cirque owes us nothing, and yet provides more than we could ask for. This is a company that started out as two performers on the streets of Quebec, and has grown into an incredible panoply of exciting live entertainments that folks can't seem to get enough of. There is much to be learned from Cirque. Rather than bemoan their success as Ms. LuPone does, or fantasize about the handouts they could give us, I propose we try to learn something we can use to improve what we do. And so ...

5 lessons from Cirque du Soleil

1. Production values are as important as performer quality.

Broadway has this tapped, and certainly the better waiver companies know what they're doing. But I have seen -- and been party to -- far too many productions that settle for shit production values when just an ounce of cleverness or creativity could have made the proverbial silk purse. This extends to something as seemingly mundane as postcard and program design. We humans like pretty things, and Cirque du Soleil fills that need by the truckload. Don Shirley observes, "I can easily imagine that some LA theatrical designers, in particular, might not like competing with Cirque du Soleil for Ovations." No kidding.

2. Want to make a profit? Transition away from non-profit.

Cirque du Soleil was a complete financial failure when it first started. The turning point? Re-privatizing the company and hiring people who knew how to run a business. If you want to make a career out of it, run it like a business.

3. Let your audience know what they can expect (including surprises!).

Cirque du Soleil is a recognizable brand that conjures up images of lean, muscular performers in tight-fitting body suits leaping through the air. It also conjures up an air of mystery; of magic. The audience knows what sort of experience they can expect from Cirque du Soleil.

That doesn't mean there are no surprises -- we know to expect those as well. As Mr. Shirley puts it, "I won’t go on in greater detail about Iris here, not only because McNulty and others are already doing so, but also because the highlights of it shouldn’t be known in advance, just like plot twists in a more earthbound theatrical production." Each and every one of Cirque du Soleil's ba-zillion shows has those highlights. Can we say the same for the average Under-99 play in Los Angeles?

4. The only community that matters is the one YOU build.

A Cirque do Soleil (or a Wal-Mart or Starbucks for that matter) doesn't happen overnight. As much as it pains one to admit, it takes a lot of work to go from one dingy show (or storefront) to world domination. Part of that work involves cultivating the people you serve. The People in the Dark -- that's the community we should build.

The thing that frustrates me most about Patti LuPone's comments is that Cirque is not stealing audience from some unknown playwright or play. The unknown playwright or play is failing on its own just fine, thank you. On the contrary, Cirque is motivating people to get off of the couch and see an incredible show. Maybe, just maybe that public will get a taste for live entertainment and a longing for "a night out." After Iris, they will cast about for their next fix. They will find other shows, and their tastes will deepen with experience. A new community of theatre-goers is born.

(The reverse is true. The same audience is one lousy play away from throwing up their hands and returning to Dancing with the Stars. Don't fuck it up.)

5. Blow your audience's mind.

The difference between live entertainment and other forms of entertainment is encapsulated in that word, "live."

The performer who runs the Wheel of Destiny can't have an "off night."

So here's a novel thought: GIVE THE AUDIENCE A REASON TO LEAVE THEIR LIVING ROOMS. When you're standing in the lobby, wondering if you should hold the curtain another five minutes on the off chance someone else shows up -- or if you find yourself in a situation where your Equity cast members are voting to cancel the evening's performance for lack of audience -- remember this. The audience owes you NOTHING. You owe them EVERYTHING. So give them everything you can muster.

If you're not sweating when you leave the stage, you didn't do enough.

There is more -- much more -- to be learned from the unprecedented success of a couple of French Canadian buskers.

What have YOU learned from Cirque du Soleil?

2011-09-19T10:59:00.000-07:00

The Comedy of Errors

Cylan Brown as Dromio of Syracuse minds the front gate. Photo by Seth Miller

If ever there was an antidote for the malaise of too many* staid, stilted or just plain awful Shakespearean productions, the Los Angeles Theatre Ensemble’s spirited production of The Comedy of Errors is surely it. But when you go and see it (and you should most definitely go and see it), don’t scrimp. Use that ticket money you save on this free admission show for a beer and a hot dog -- assuming the Ensemble keeps the grill going over the run of the show. I hope they do. This is beer and a hot dog Shakespeare; theatre for the groundlings, and we are, if anything, a nation of groundlings.

The play is the Bard’s shortest, most whimsical romp. Mistaken identity forms the core of the plot -- or rather is the set-up for a number of comical bits.

The Ensemble creates a festive atmosphere outdoors, on the back patio at Powerhouse Theater, with a set cobbled together from leftover platforms and crates.

Director Drew Shirley’s cast is lively, engaging in inspired physical comedy; well-orchestrated chaos. The flurry of activity is an absolute delight, and every performer commits 100% to the tale. Particularly delightful is Greyson Lewis, who does double duty as a comically inept Officer and a gratuitously “sexy” Courtesan.

The hysterics are not pointless. The physical jokes grow out of the material, and jokes written in the material play very well on their own. Nothing in the staging is out of place. For instance, an extended dance sequence towards the end of the first act is appropriate to the story, erupting deliciously out of the moment.

This is a show full of belly laughs. It truly is popular theatre, just as the Bard's works were intended. The Los Angeles Theatre Ensemble is having fun, and they invite the audience to join the party. I’d RSVP if I were you.

The Comedy of Errors is performed Wednesdays, Saturdays and Sundays at 7:00 pm through September 24th at The Powerhouse Theatre, 3116 2nd Street in Santa Monica (one block east of Main, between Rose & Marine).

Admission is free, but they will accept donations. Reservations are recommended. To reserve your seats, visit Los Angeles Theatre Ensemble online at http://www.latensemble.com/ or http://www.powerhousetheatre.com/.

The Ensemble invites their Audiences to bring picnics or purchase food and drinks at the performance.

*Arises the question, how many bad Shakespeare plays are too many? You can count the answer on one finger.

2011-09-14T13:40:00.000-07:00

[Inside] the Ford Announces their Next ...

A huge congratulations to Circle X Theatre Co., Furious Theatre Company and PAE Live! The [Inside] the Ford program is a fantastic opportunity for local theatre companies, and I hope to get out to see all three of these productions.

(Commence press release.)

[Inside] the Ford announces 2011-12 season

New plays from PAE Live!, Furious Theatre Company

and Circle X Theatre Co. push the envelope

LOS ANGELES, CA – September 14, 2011 – PAE Live!, Furious Theatre Company and Circle X Theatre Co. have been selected through a competitive application process to present three new plays at [Inside] the Ford in 2011-12.

“These three terrific companies have committed to put on technically challenging and emotionally difficult material,” comments season producer Adam Davis. “The season is ambitious; these are the kinds of productions that challenge the audience to think. We hope to provide an opportunity for these theater companies to push their artistic boundaries, and we are confident they will pull it off and do it well. That’s what I’m most excited about.”

The season opens on November 4 and 5 when PAE Live! presents The Romance of Magno Rubio in English – as well as the world premiere of Ang Romansa ni Magno Rubio, a new translation into Tagalog of Lonnie Carter’s OBIE award-winning play. A high-energy stage adaptation of Carlos Bulosan's seminal short story about a love struck Filipino migrant worker in 1930s California, The Romance of Magno Rubio uses clever word play, rhymes, rhythms and Philippine love songs (“kundimans”) to reveal the lives of migrant workers, their struggles and dreams, and their longings for home and a better life. PAE Live! presents five performances each week, three in English and two in Tagalog. The new translation is by renowned Filipino actor Bernardo Bernardo, who also directs. (November 4-December 11)

On January 21, Furious Theatre Company presents the world premiere of No Good Deed, a gritty and savagely humorous live-on-stage action adventure that is part theater and part graphic novel. Dámaso Rodriguez directs resident playwright Matt Pelfrey’s bold exploration of the way junk news and media hype thwart the best efforts of real life heroes. No good deed goes unpunished when teen illustrator Josh Jackson transforms into a superhero – only to face mortal consequences for his actions in an epic battle of good vs. evil. (January 21-February 26)

Circle X Theatre Co. returns to [Inside] the Ford on March 24 with the world premiere of a wild and crazy comedy that examines the stretch marks in the American dream. In Naked Before God by Leo Geter, former adult B-movie queen Kristen Burrows may have hit upon a business plan with potential: she's going to combine her adult film past with a born again future. Meanwhile, Kristin's son Duncan is set to launch an entrepreneurial scheme of his own. When a Christian radio talk show host interested in Kristen's book idea comes to dinner, twisted hilarity ensues. (March 24-April 28)

The winter play series at [Inside] the Ford, supported by the Los Angeles County Arts Commission and the Ford Theatre Foundation, has presented Los Angeles, West Coast, and world premiere productions from companies including Moving Arts, Ensemble Studio Theatre-LA, Circle X Theatre Co., TheSpyAnts, Ghost Road Company, Rogue Artists Ensemble, Neo Theatre Ensemble and Vs. Theatre Company since 2008. Plays produced as part of the series have garnered awards and recognition from the Los Angeles Drama Critics Circle, American Theatre Critics Association, LA Weekly and Back Stage. “A big plus for the decade came from the Los Angeles County Arts Commission, whose funding of various companies at [Inside] the Ford has given us some of the richest programming of the seasons,” wrote Steven Leigh Morris in the LA Weekly.
[Inside] the Ford is located in the Ford Theatres complex at 2580 Cahuenga Blvd. East, Hollywood, CA 90068, just off the 101 Hollywood Freeway across from the Hollywood Bowl and south of Universal Studios. On-site, non-stacked parking is free. Tickets are $25 with a special price of $12 for full-time students and senior citizens. A season subscription for all three plays is $54. Discounts are available for groups of 8 or more. For information and to purchase tickets go to the Ford Theatres Web site at www.FordTheatres.org or call 323-461-3673. The Ford is also on Facebook, YouTube and Twitter @FordTheatres.

###

About [Inside] the Ford:

Embedded within a 1929 historic structure, [Inside] the Ford is an 87-seat indoor theater space at the Ford Theatres complex that boasts modern lights and sound, comfortable seats, and a decades-long history of nurturing new theater. For many years it was rented by numerous groups, most notably the Mark Taper Forum which made it the home of its second stage Taper, Too from 1972 to 1997. In 1998 the space was extensively renovated and renamed [Inside] the Ford, following which a season of three productions was presented under the Los Angeles County Art Commission's subsidized rental program designed to help theater companies without permanent facilities. From 2000-01 through 2003-04, [Inside] the Ford hosted "Hot Properties," seasons of new plays and musicals produced by County-based theater companies and supported by A.S.K. Theater Projects and the James Irvine Foundation. From 2005-06 to 2007-08, [Inside] the Ford was the home of the Ensemble Theatre Collective, known as ETC@ITF, a collaboration of five L.A.-based theater companies that was supported in part by the Flintridge Foundation.
About the Los Angeles County Arts Commission:

The Los Angeles County Arts Commission, Laura Zucker, Executive Director, provides leadership in cultural services of all disciplines for the largest county in the United States, encompassing 88 municipalities. In addition to programming the John Anson Ford Theatres, the Arts Commission provides leadership and staffing to support the regional blueprint for arts education, Arts for All; administers a grants program that funds more than 300 nonprofit arts organizations annually; oversees the County's Civic Art Program for capital projects, funds the largest arts internship program in the country in conjunction with the Getty Foundation, and supports the Los Angeles County Cultural Calendar on ExperienceLA.com. The Arts Commission also produces free community programs, including the L.A. Holiday Celebration broadcast nationally, and a year-round music program that funds free concerts each year in public sites. The 2011-12 President of the Arts Commission is Ollie Blanning. For more information please consult the Arts Commission online press kit: http://lacountyarts.org/page/pubnewspress.

2011-09-13T09:55:00.000-07:00

Theatre is the Ctrl+F of Life

Some rights reserved by secretlondon123

According to one of the brains at Google, 90% of the population doesn’t know the Ctrl (or “Command” for you Apple devotees) + F trick to locate an exact word or phrase on a web page or in a document:

Do they just scroll? And scroll, and scroll, and scroll, reading every single word until they find the one they're looking for? Do they just give up? Think how many papers go unwritten, how many gifts go un-given—all because 90% of humans can't find what they're looking for.

I don’t think this is limited to web pages and documents. I believe that humankind is constantly scrolling; looking for some sort of meaning in life, tending to settle on whatever fits our own personal prejudices. Enter the artist. Our craft enables us to narrow on the exact issues that trouble us most, to shine a light in those dark recesses, and help our audience find meaning.

2011-09-07T11:19:00.000-07:00

No Results Found in this Book for Dues

This looks like a pretty good read! Over at the New York Times, the author conducted a bit of a Q & A on the topic of his book. Check it out. It's so inspiring, it got me to thinking even I could start a theatre company!

Oh, wait ...

UPDATE:

Something Mr. Nelson wrote in the Q & A caught my eye:

I wouldn't go LLC (limited liability company) because you're basically competing with non-profits. If they don't sell their shows, they can simply raise money from people looking for tax write-offs. If you don't sell your shows? Good night, and check please!

This is the best argument for going non-profit that I've seen in a long time. (This is a topic I've blogged/hand-wringed about here, here, and here.) Not that I'm convinced, mind you, but it is a compelling argument nonetheless.

Mr. Nelson also unabashedly hits another nail on the head elsewhere in this Q & A:

Execution simply means you must consistently put up a superior production/product. Theater is a competitive game, so you might as well embrace it. If your shows are hot, trust me, audiences will find you.

There has been a big move toward community building in the LA scene, as if being part of a larger, tighter-knit clique held the cure to low attendance, a lack of relevance, and possibly cancer. I wonder what would happen if companies declared outright war on each other? At the very least, it would be interesting. (More interesting than pretending we don't compete for audience.)

[A clarification: I'm not advocating "outright war" between companies. It's just a thought experiment.]

2011-09-06T11:25:00.000-07:00

Practicing What I Preach

Wait ... you actually make theatre?

Well, yes, I do. Most of what I do these days is burlesque (I get paid and get to hang around with half-naked women) which includes the curious partnership that exists between me and Phillip Kelly in the form of Mr. Snapper and Mr. Buddy.

I don't believe I've blogged much about our neo-vaudevillian alter-egos here on Mad Theatrics. But yes, we're kind of a big deal. At least in our own minds. And that's all that really matters in the Los Angeles theatre scene, right?

Seriously, though, we're awesome:

Our act combines music with slapstick comedy.

We typically host burlesque shows, but we have performed long sets since 2009's "Peepshow Menagerie presents: Burlesqueland!" We combine free-wheeling improvisational gag comedy with scripted, tightly rehearsed comic bits -- often in the same show.

Photo by Markus Alias

It's sawdust-on-the-floor theatre. The immediate feedback loop from the "groundlings" (if you will) shapes how we progress through our set. Oftentimes the audience becomes a part of the act.

Photo by Markus Alias

Everything I write on this blog about taking care of the audience manifests in what Mr. Buddy and Mr. Snapper do. We're not in this to stroke our own egos -- we're in this to delight an audience. And to that end ...

We're producing a show! A madcap romp of a show, filled with talented variety artists, musicians, dancers -- the works!

2011-08-23T11:12:00.000-07:00

We're Different

Some rights reserved by Raymond Yee

I had the pleasure this past weekend of taking in two really good plays for Stage Happenings. Those reviews will be up shortly, but in the meantime -- something occurred to me.

"What we lack in production values we'll make up for in a commitment to acting." Sound familiar? It's a sentiment I've heard batted around at certain unnamed theatre companies. I've done the batting myself in the past. It made perfect sense at the time. Now? Not so much.

Both of the plays I saw this past weekend had TREMENDOUS production values. Naturalistic sets and costumes, thoughtful lights and sound. These were rich-looking plays. But you know what else? Both plays had some of the best acting I've ever seen -- including film and television. (Ooooooooo ... oh no he didn't!)

So guess what? Telling yourself, "We're different, we focus on the acting!" that's cheap. Those are empty words that exist to mask either an ignorance of stagecraft, or an unwillingness to put as much effort as one should into building an onstage world. Hey -- I'm guilty of this, too, and it's an attitude I've seen in many places, not just at any one company. To be perfectly fair, it's an attitude that comes and goes with access to designers and resources. But nevertheless it's a "sour grapes" attitude; a defeatist attitude.

It's a microcosmosis attitude.

The term comes from Hugh MacLeod:

"Microcosmosis": when you confuse your little microcosm with the entire universe.

The implication is that production values don't matter because the play's the thing, and we're the shit. But when you lift your head out of your own ass and bother to look around at the entire universe, you discover just what small potatoes you really are. There are basically three possible reactions to breaking the illusion of microcosmosis: 1) Quit, 2) Work harder, or 3) Stick your head back up your ass and pretend you didn't see anything. The truly afflicted manage to do 3) while convincing themselves they are doing 2).

There's no end to what an artist can convince himself of. Unfortunately, our job is to convince the audience, and that takes good performance and good stagecraft.

2011-08-18T10:08:00.000-07:00

The Audience Is Always Right

(Originally published on my dancer blog here.)

I recognize that as a performer I wouldn't have a job if it wasn't for the audience. I get booked because the audience doesn't have a mass exodus when I hit the stage. I love them and respect them, and I try to keep my skill set sharp and expanding so they continue employing me. This has always held true for me, even when I was more actor than dancer. I recognize that they are there to be entertained, and that's the contract I agreed to when I agreed to perform for them.

I'm reading Magic and Showmanship: A Handbook for Conjurers by Henning Nelms. I can't guarantee that you'll see any prestidigitation from me in the near future, but I am learning more and more about showmanship. Here's a wonderful selection ripped from the book:

We cannot prevent individuals from jumping to foolish conclusions, nor should we worry much when they do. However, the audience as a whole is always right. Once it forms an opinion, the fact that this is completely unfounded is of no consequence whatever.

Let's take a look at this. "However, the audience as a whole is always right." There's some talent show on network television where performers get voted off stage within thirty seconds if the audience doesn't like what's being brought to the table. Sure, a few people may be entertained but the audience as a whole determines the fate of the performer.

And more from the magic man:

This is a fundamental principle of showmanship. When we offer to entertain--and convince--an audience and fail to do so, the fault is ours. If the audience does not like our material, we cannot complain of its taste but must take the blame for choosing unwisely. If the audience is stupid, we must find ways to be especially clear. If the audience is inattentive, we must manage to capture and hold attention. An audience may be difficult, but there is no such thing as a bad audience. Anyone who performs before an audience has undertaken to please that audience. If he bores it, he has not lived up to his obligation.

Let me say up front that not every audience is as audibly enthusiastic as a Roman rabble at a bear-baiting show. Some appreciate things quietly and process internally. Not every show is a standing ovation show, but that doesn't mean the audience as a whole hated it.

Now that my disclaimer is out of the way, let's look at audiences in the world of live entertainment. How about the audience protesting what's happening on stage by shifting in their seats? That creaking is a sort of vote that what's happening on stage is boring. (The creaking is a horrible and obvious sign of boredom, especially when you're on stage and you hear it happening.) Unwrapping of candy, texting, shuffling loudly through the program, talking, bathroom breaks by an obvious chunk of your audience -- these are pretty good signs that you're not entertaining them. I remember seeing Sting in concert in 2000, and a huge chunk of the audience made for the loo when he played his country song. It wasn't the entire audience, but the amphitheater had obvious patches void of patrons during that song. If he'd played country the rest of the night, I would've been one of the inevitable mass exodus from the show. These are signs that the audience isn't being entertained.

I co-directed a show about a year and a half ago when the original director bailed. I wasn't thrilled to add something non-dance to my schedule, but I'm a decent director and I didn't want the actors to be left in the lurch. One of the two nights I watched the show with an audience, the entire front row walked out. In the world of Equity waiver (under 99-seat) theatre, the theaters are so small that it's very noticeable when people leave. In fact, this group was plotting their escape while the actors were acting their hearts out less than six feet away. They walked out in the middle of the scene, almost brushing up against the actors as they left. They also posted a poisonous review on Goldstar. I can't blame them; the show wasn't amazing and they weren't entertained. They spent money to see something interesting and we gave them the same low-budget Equity waiver theatre they could get anywhere in LA. (To be honest yet a dick, I wasn't thrilled to go see the show twice and I co-directed. I directed a show the year before and sat in the audience every night I was in town. While the audience was small, they were always pleased with the show. There were a few people who saw that show more than once.)

If the audience thinks you're "phoning in" your performance, they're not going to give a shit about how many hours you've rehearsed and how many times you've done it before. They're not convinced. If your performance is technically proficient but the audience isn't entertained, you might as well go home and masturbate in your proficiency before a mirror until you're ready to start involving the audience in your performance because right now it's all for yourself. It's no good blaming your audience. And here's me being a dick again: it's a real sister baby move to proclaim via social media how your audience sucked and didn't understand how hard you worked. See my masturbation suggestion if you want to celebrate how hard you worked and not concern yourself with pleasing an audience.

If you're not stuck on masturbating as a performer, look at what Nelms says and consider how you can apply that to your own stage work, whether as an entertainer or an enabler (director, producer, etc.). If it doesn't cause the reaction you expect from your audience, how can it be modified or improved to get that reaction?

Now get to entertaining the shit out of people!

2011-08-13T09:23:00.000-07:00

The Cynic’s Guide to Making Under-99 Theatre in 10 EASY Steps!

Back-of-a-business-card artwork by Hugh Macleod. Buy his stuff, follow him, etc.

[For today, a little levity.]

Making theatre is hard. That's why I broke it down for you in these 10 easy steps!

1. Do a Shakespeare. His plays are free, and there’s instant name recognition. Conversely, produce a new work from an upcoming playwright. What they lack in name recognition they more than make up for in a willingness to work for free and a potential to bring in an audience (i.e. friends and family.)

2. Broker a deal to rent a theatre for a split of the door. That way you’re not out any cash. If you can’t make the guarantee, don’t sweat it. Burn bridges with theatre managers if you need too. Seriously -- do you know how many theatres there are in this town? There are way more bridges than you could comfortably burn in a lifetime.

If you have to pay something up front, ask your actors to “invest” in the company. Call this investment “membership dues,” so as to avoid violating section 4(E) of the Los Angeles 99-Seat Plan. Another possibility is to kite a check. You may also consider asking Mommy and Daddy to foot the bill.

3. When on the hunt for a director, willingness is the most important quality to look for. If someone expresses a passing interest, that’s enough. Crown them “Director” and put them in charge. Don’t question their choices, no matter how inexperienced or stupid the director may be. They’re willing, and in Under-99 Theatre, willing is enough.

4. You don’t need a unified design team. You hardly even need designers! Mostly you need people who are good at obtaining the needed set pieces, costume pieces, props, etc. It doesn’t matter if the flag has fifty stars in a play set in 1931, and it doesn’t matter that you’re using the same $2 plastic breakaway knife that everyone else uses. All that matters is the actors. To that end, spare no expense (out of your lighting designer’s pocket) to keep your actors lit. (Well, keep them lit as best as you can without really breaking a sweat.)

5. Cast large. The bigger your cast, the bigger your potential audience (i.e. friends and family.)

6. Don’t bother to file your 99-Seat Plan. Why draw attention to yourself with Equity? If anyone in the cast cares, you can easily fake the paperwork, lie, etc. But don’t be up front about it – you may scare off the union actors, and everyone knows the only good actors are union actors.

7. To promote the play, you will need postcards. Pick an exciting or intriguing image for the card – it doesn’t matter if it’s relevant to the play, so long as it’s eye-catching – and put a full cast list on the back. If putting the cast list on the back prevents you from putting a summary of the play on the postcard, who cares? No one comes to a play because they know what it’s about. They’re coming based on that eye-catching image. And because they know someone in the cast.

8. It’s never too soon to plan out cast parties. You should have as many of these as you can over the course of the run. A carousing cast is a happy, unquestioning cast. What you lack in substance and artistic challenges you can make up for in social intercourse.

9. Flood the social networks with plugs for your show. This involves little more than linking to the Facebook event and saying “Come see my show!” If possible, have your entire cast and crew bomb Facebook at the same time. Since odds are you all have the same friends, this will really make an impact.

10. When the show fails, don’t hesitate to lay blame -- but don’t blame yourself! You know how hard you had to work to get the show to this point. Instead, pick one or more of the following to blame:

The audience
The reviewers (or lack thereof)
The economy
People who may have left the company and/or show

Above all else, don't ask "why?" Don't worry yourself over reconciling art with commerce. Don't push yourself past the breaking point as an artist. Remember it's called "play," and that means zero responsibility to the audience or the artform and 100% self-involvement. As it should be! I mean, you're only doing this to get noticed by a casting director or agent, right?

[Did I miss any major points? Comment below!]

2011-08-09T13:03:00.000-07:00

Chris Ashworth

I'm adding a new blog to the ol' blog roll today, a blog a happened upon after chewing on the thoroughly depressing topic of "How to make theatre pay?"

And so I took a stroll through the internets to see if any bright soul had found an exploitable crack in the no-to-low-pay theater curse. And I found Chris Ashworth. I'm reading and ruminating on his blog, and so far I see a whole lot I agree with (and have observed myself, on this here soapbox that nobody reads.)

His blog post "Toward a New Funding Model for Theater" throws down an awful big gauntlet that I've only hinted around at:

You know what annoys me a little bit? Theaters may fit inside a non-profit structure, but they share a lot of territory with for-profit companies. Any non-profit that fits inside the Beneficiary Builder model shares huge swaths of territory with for-profit companies. Unlike other non-profits, their beneficiaries are their customers. And from where I stand, it can look like an awfully fuzzy line between a great non-profit company providing a service their customers can’t afford…and a crappy for-profit company that can’t make their service affordable.

So you know what? Forget I ever said theaters should be non-profits. I hate that idea. It might be true, but just forget it. For the purposes of this conversation, that idea is a crutch and I am kicking that crutch out from under you RIGHT NOW.

Go read the whole thing, and be inspired.

2011-08-03T12:19:00.000-07:00

The "Joie"

"Tomorrow night I want you to have fun. This play is a party -- literally. Make it the kind of party that every person in the audience will want to be a part of." I gave this direction before Torrid Affaire opened for the first time, and it's a bit of direction I've employed ever since. I have only recently found a word to sum up what I'm promoting with this advice. The wife and I began studying French with Rosetta Stone (an awesome way to learn a second language, byt the way) which has opened me up to really trying to conceptually understand the language.

As we all know, "joie de vivre" means "joy of life," but much is lost in the translation. "Joie" means more than just "joy." Joie is "sentiment exaltant ressenti par toute la conscience" or "A feeling of exhilaration that expands across the spirit." The word "ressenti" is the past participle of "ressentir," and actually means "to feel pain, experience a shock, sensation." So there is a passionate, visceral aspect to this word, "joie."

That's good for a lexicophile; what does the word mean to me, in the context of "a party on stage"?

It means embodying a fullness of spirit; being fully plugged in to the moment-by-moment; being present and active. It means effervescing -- including and especially in tragic roles! It means chasing down the invisible in a tenacious effort to make it visible.*

Note that joie is a term which concerns and involves the audience. Through the "magical" means of identification, transference and catharsis, if you're doing it right the audience is essentially on stage with you. Joie is the bright light that draws them in, enraptures them, and makes their investment in the piece a painless transaction. Joie is the ongoing sensation of life that keeps the audience engaged.

Perfunctory is the enemy of joie. Smug, self-congratulatory egosim can be a sick mockery of joie. Joie is not "social hour" or being gregarious -- "gregarious" literally means "belonging to a herd." Baaaaaa.

On the contrary, joie requires intense, earnest openness. It is a dangerous thing to experience; to manifest. Yet when a performance has joie, you can feel it resonate in the deepest part of your humanity. Joie is what brings an audience to its feet in a spontaneous display of gratitude at the end.

Joie is what we strive for.

"Mrs. Florence Fleming Noyes in a scarf dance."

* "I am calling it the Holy Theatre for short, but it could be called The Theatre of the Invisible – Made – Visible: the notion that the stage is a place where the invisible can appear has a deep hold on our thoughts. […] This is what is meant and remembered by those who with feeling and seriousness use big hazy words like nobility, beauty, poetry, which I would like to re-examine for the particular quality they suggest. The theatre is the last forum where idealism is still an open question: many audiences all over the world will answer positively from their own experience that they have seen the face of the invisible through an experience on stage that transcended their experience in life." – Peter Brook, The Empty Space, pg. 42

2011-07-31T16:03:00.000-07:00

Got Reviews?

I am available to review plays and other forms of live entertainment. If you would like a review published on this blog, and I am able to schedule it, I would like to come see your work. Email me.

Here's a sampling of the reviews I have written over the past year:

At Stage Happenings:

Elizabeth Shakespeare and The Astute Detective

Everything Will Be Different: A Brief History of Helen of Troy

Forbidden Zone

Game Over

Lucia Mad

At LA Theatre Review:

I Never Sang for My Father

The Beverly Hills Psychiatrist and Jessica’s Monologue

Here at Mad Theatrics:

Re-Animator: The Musical
How Did I Get Here? [written with Pamela Moore]
Circus Vargas

A few things:

I am mostly interested in seeing productions based in the LA Basin. That's not to say that I absolutely won't go over the hill, just keep in mind if you invite me to Woodland Hills to see your production of Our Town, I may not be able to make that happen.

If I know you, if we've worked together, I may decline reviewing you. This will be decided on a case-by-case basis, and my view on the subject is as fickle as a toddler's appetite. If I do decide to write a review and we used to pound beers at the corner bar in college, the review will bear a disclaimer that says as much.

I am very interested in the unreviewable and under-reviewed. Scrappy, short runs of plays hardly anyone will see, performance art, dance, variety arts, etc. Producing a one-woman juggling show in Culver City that plays two weeks? Shoot me an email. Have a modern dance troupe that's just beginning to figure out what the hell it is you're trying to do? Bring it on.

My review philosophy is pretty simple. It's detailed in rambling prose here and here, but the bullet points are:

Be honest
Be specific
Be constructive
Leave preconceptions and prejudices at the door
Snark is not a public service

Need a review? Drop me a line.

2011-07-27T09:12:00.000-07:00

Substitute the Word "Play"

A quote by Alfred Hitchcock.

2011-07-25T15:46:00.000-07:00

Theatre Re-Animated

It's been a few weeks since Pamela and I took in Re-Animator - The Musical at the Steve Allen Theatre. I wasn't there in any official capacity as reviewer; this was strictly pleasure, not business for me. I am quite taken with The Steve Allen since dropping in on Ron Lynch's Tomorrow! back in May. My comedy partner Phillip Kelly and I subsequently took our neo-vaudeville act "Mr. Snapper and Mr. Buddy" to Tomorrow! and we had a blast. The audience was feisty and engaged and I enjoyed watching Ron work his magic from the wings (the man is a tremendous emcee).

Backstage at Tomorrow! I ran across a Re-Animator program and to my delight discovered that the music and lyrics were by Mark Nutter. I was first exposed to Nutter at Xmas Smackdown, an irreverent holiday show up in the Valley. My wife performed a burlesque number for one evening of that show, and I discovered Mark "Baby Shredder" Nutter. I was already aware that Re-Animator was the one show in Hollywood that boasts a splash zone. Nutter's name on the production sealed the deal.. And so plans were hatched, tickets were purchased, and soon enough we found ourselves in the third row of the splash zone as the lights dimmed and the overture began.

That splash zone? Absolutely, delightfully necessary.

Nutter's songs are tight, clever and laugh-out-loud funny in their own right. (For Cthulu's sake PLEASE record a cast album!!!) The cast is fully committed to the mania, and each and every one of the players gives a stand-out performance. From Brian Gillespie's scene stealing janitor to Jesse Merlin's operatic übercreep, Dr. Hill there is not one wasted choice, not one perfunctory moment. This show is balls-out from open to close.

Re-Animator is full of surprising solutions to staging problems. I dare say Stuart Gordan is a genius, and it kickstarts my own theatrical heart to see his work on stage.

Re-Animator - The Musical is brought to life Fridays, Saturdays, and Sundays at 8:00 pm through August 14th. The Steve Allen Theatre is located in The Center for Inquiry, 4773 Hollywood Blvd., in Hollywood.

Tickets are $15 for CFI members and students, $30 for everyone else. (Check Goldstar for discount tickets.) Ticket info may be found here.

Don't be a puss. Sit in the splash zone and revel in it!

2011-07-15T09:31:00.000-07:00

Pay What You Will, Get What You Pay For

I'm not opposed to promotional ticket schemes, discount nights, whatever. I think the psychology behind "Pay What You Will" could potentially cause people to pay more than what you may pull on a discount ticket seller like Goldstar. That was the reasoning that won me over when we gave "Pay What You Will" a shot back at the ol' theatre company. I still think there may be something to it.

But part of me thinks "Pay What You Will" devalues an experience that shouldn't be devalued. What's wrong with boldly stating, "This evening of theatre is worth $15!" Jeezy creezy, it doesn't even look that bold a statement. So what's the reluctance all about?

"Pay What You Will" does let you off the hook if the show sucks, but only to yourself, not to the audience. "Well, that was a show. [insert eyeroll here.] Thank God we made it 'Pay What You Will!'"

Meanwhile the audience is reminded why they don't go see more live theatre, and grumble about it all the way home.

In my estimation, the exchange of money for theatre actually benefits the audience. It makes their decision to go see a play dearer, more important. It adds value to their experience and validates their aesthetic taste. It invests them more deeply in the play.

Money is a value-holding device, a stand-in for the work that went into earning it. When an audience member plops down $15 for a ticket, he or she is paying for it with a portion of their labor. They are investing their own productivity into an aesthetic experience. Going to the theatre is therefore not just something “fun” or “interesting” to do, it’s a reason to get through the work week – it’s something to get excited about.

We know this! How many times do we buy advance tickets to something like Wicked or Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, part two and spend a little time each day savoring the experience yet to come?

"But in this economy ..." goes one argument in favor. "It brings out people who might not otherwise come out," goes another. Nonsense. People pay to be entertained. Maybe the focus should be on custom-crafting an evening of entertainment that is worth something, rather than figuring out an angle to pack the house.

If what you're doing is Something Worth Seeing, people will pay.

2011-07-14T19:05:00.000-07:00

Know Thy Audience

-or-

How to Avoid Pulling Your Pud in Public

Theatre. Huh! Good Gawd! What is it good for?

Hopefully not absolutely nothing. But aside from entertaining your family and friends, do you have any idea who would be interested in your art? And if you knew your audience, truly knew your audience, how would that inform your choices?

Seth Godin tackles just this thing in a blog entry entitled "Articulating your preferred use case (what's it for?)"

First, what is a "use case?" Per Whatis.com: "A use case is a methodology used in system analysis to identify, clarify, and organize system requirements." In other words, it's a way to figure out what you make, how people find and interact with what you make, and what results come from that interaction.
Thus spaketh Seth:

There are two reasons to articulate your use case. First, it helps your staff, your designers, your marketers and your sales force get on the same page about what they're building and growing. And second, it might be unrealistic. You might be hoping for a market that's far bigger than it is, or to solve a problem that's too easy (or too difficult).

From my experience, a lack of coordination of goals is an absolute team killer, and there is no stopping a group that has harnessed the power of a true collaborative process.

Seth invites us to answer the following questions:

•How does someone find out about what you do?
•How much do they pay for it?
•When they're engaging with you in the very best way, what happens? What's accomplished?
•What do they do after they use it?
•How often do they return?

("How much do they pay for it" reminds me. I've been meaning to air out my thoughts on the "Pay What you Can" model.)

I firmly believe that since the audience is one half of the theatrical equation and since they don't join us until well after production meetings, casting calls, rehearsals, etc., understanding the audience is key. Defining the preferred use case will take us pretty far in the direction of figuring out an answer to that great, existential question, "Why Theatre?"

And finally:

You'll often be wrong about what the market is and what it wants. When that happens, time to either shift your use case (and the way you're organized around it) or stick it out but be prepared for a long, tough slog.

It's okay to be wrong, especially in the arts. The important thing is to grow and evolve, staying sensitive to the needs of the audience. After all, they are the reason we do this stuff!

Now -- who the hell are they?

BONUS BLOG: Go Into The Story, a screenwriting blog I follow has an interesting take on the subject of qualifying the customer. A couple of choice quotes:

You may have the greatest pitch in the world, but if the customer doesn't really want to buy it, you're going to have a tough time making that sale.

You may be in the Closer Hall of Fame, but if the customer doesn't want what you're pushing, you are set up to fail.

Qualify the customer. Find out what they want. Then give it to them.

and:

What is it about your story that will motivate that customer to get off their ass and go to a movie theater to see your movie? Why do you want to see my movie? If the resulting list of reasons you come up with is thin, then perhaps you're not writing a big or compelling enough story.

If the reason you're making theatre is "it makes me feel good," you're violating Stanislavsky's Golden Rule; loving yourself in the arts rather than the art in yourself. I never really understood ol' Uncle Konstantin's point until I started doing burlesque. There's no mistaking an artist who's doing it for the audience for an artist who's doing it for themselves. It's tangible.

Self-aggrandizement, tooting one's own horn -- that's all well and good. Part of the show. But when you hit the boards, you best be shining your light for the people in the dark, not pulling your pud in public.

2011-07-01T10:42:00.000-07:00

I read a lot to improve my skills as a performer. While my focus is burlesque, the things I read tend to apply to all types of performance. This week I started Magic and Showmanship, A Handbook for Conjurers by Henning Nelms. Just a few pages into the book, Nelms starts discussing tricks versus illusions. He points out that illusions convince an audience of something, even if they're no longer convinced when the show is over. From Nelms:

In most cases, the conviction will be neither deeper nor more lasting than the conviction of an audience at Hamlet that the prince has been killed in a duel. However, this is all the theater needs to create drama--and it is all a conjurer needs to fascinate his audience instead of being content to provide a little amusement.

There is a tremendous difference between even such short-lived illusions and none at all. If a play fails to create any illusion, it is worthless. On the other hand, if it succeeds in creating an illusion, the fact that the spell of the drama is broken with the fall of the curtain does not diminish its effect in the slightest.

Wow. So how can this be applied to improve a performance or an entire show? Look at bad reviews you've gotten. What illusion did you personally or the show as a whole fail to create? What about the good reviews? What illusion was successfully created?

I've always believed the focus should not be on how being on stage makes you feel, but instead should be on the audience's experience. Nelms's discourse on illusions can help improve the audiences' experiences so every trip to the theater is magical and worth the cost of admission.

2011-06-23T09:49:00.000-07:00

Know Thy Audience

On the heels of disagreeing with Seth Godin yesterday, some measure of agreement today. In a post entitled “The Grateful Dead and the Top 40,” Godin writes:

I wonder if Jerry ever got jealous of acts that were able to put songs on the radio. (The Dead had exactly one hit record...)

I hope not. Jerry was in a different business. Sure, he played music. Elton John also plays music. But they were in different businesses, performing for different audiences, generating revenue in different ways, creating different sorts of art.

In a world filled with metrics and bestseller lists, it's easy to decide that everyone is your competitor and easier still to worry about your rank. Worry all you want, but if it gets in the way of your art or starts changing your mission, it's probably a mistake.

I’m fairly certain the Dead were concerned with metrics – their metrics. Their ticket sells, their concert attendance. Hey, all that weed doesn’t buy itself; Jerry Garcia gotta eat. (Or at least he did. RIP, Jerry.)

Consider for a moment what great care goes into casting a show. Reflect on the hours spent listening to monologues, reviewing resumes, and arranging headshots together to see which actors look best together. Then you have the callbacks, the additional casting calls when you can't seem to find that one right actor for that one pivotal role. By the end of the process, you know your actors pretty well, no?

How many of us know our audiences as well?

The Grateful Dead inspired their audience to go on tour with them. They fostered an active "taping" culture. They created a sound system (the "wall of sound") that provided their audience with the best possible experience of the music. They knew what their audience enjoyed, and they did everything within their power to bolster that enjoyment. They knew their audience, and it informed their choices.

Live performance depends on the audience as an active participant. This is Theatre 101. Once the performance begins, the audience is half of the equation. Do you really know who's out there in the dark? Are you doing everything you can to make their experience pure awesomesauce? Or are your choices geared to stroke your own ego and the egos of your collaborators whilst you hide beneath the aegis, "Art?"

To thine own audience be true.

2011-06-21T09:29:00.000-07:00

Seth Godin is Wrong Again

If you’ve read this blog for a while, you may know that I think very highly of marketing guru Seth Godin. He gets a point I’ve argued in the past: Marketing is storytelling. Storytelling is our main business in the theatre, and you can’t successfully divorce the marketing of a play from the production of a play. And so it is I believe the promotional actions that accompany a production should be tightly married to the production itself, so much so that I consider the graphic design of postcards, posters, banners and programs on par with the scenic, lighting, costume and sound design.

The postcard is the first experience your audience has of the show. Why would a director or producer allow for an arbitrary or poorly thought out or stylistically inconsistent first impression?

Every now and then Seth Godin posts something that I vehemently disagree with. (I know what you’re thinking: “Is there any other way in which you disagree with something, dick?” You’re right, you’re right.) Today is one of those days:

An early adopter seeks out new ideas and makes them work.

An adapter, on the other hand, puts up with what he has to, begrudgingly.

One is offense, the other is defense. One requires the spark of curiousity, the other is associated with fear, or at least hassle.

Not always, Seth. Not in the arts, and certainly not in small theatre production.

There is an art in adaption that goes beyond “begrudgingly” putting up with what you have. It is an art of taking stock set pieces, off-the-rack clothes and inadequate lighting equipment and conjuring every ounce of creative and technical skill to create something more. Adaptation is creative change; is evolution. Adaption is the essence of “zooming,” a concept Godin spends well over 250 pages defining in his 2002 book, Survival is Not Enough.

Semantically, I get it. Change one letter and you can spin a pat little comparison. But it’s a false comparison and a blanket statement that rings false.

2011-06-19T09:51:00.000-07:00

REVIEW: How Did I Get Here?

Laura Levites, a charming redhead with a penchant for stepping into bad relationships takes us on a tour of the low-lights of said relationships in this brisk and funny one-woman show. Unfortunate inconsistencies and superficial moments detract from what could otherwise be a very good piece of theatre.

This is such a conversational piece, it requires no artificiality to convey. The worst moments are the "actor" moments, moments where Levites falls prey to the great sin of acting, indication. Theatre is about revealing, not showing off, and Levites has written a piece that lends itself to revelation. Just speak the words, let them move you, and don't feel the need to "sell" anything with superficial actorly gestures. Plant your feet, face the audience, and speak. It's a storytelling piece, so she needn't do more than just tell the story; it's interesting enough that the "acting" detracts from her tale.

Either have props or don't. Either interact with prerecorded voices or don't. Pick a direction and deal with the complications that ensue from making a specific choice. It will make for a more powerful piece.

The frustrating thing about How Did I Get Here? are the moments where Levites shines through. Levites is a vibrant, funny woman; charming and powerful on stage when she drops the artifice and just talks to us. It is frustrating to know that the piece could be that much better, if only. Levites needs a director or collaborator who will force her into the dark corners that she otherwise peeks into. Maybe "force her into" isn't the right expression -- "gently take her hand and help her explore." There are genuine moments of laugh-out-loud funny in this piece. There is very little genuine pathos, and that is a great shame.

There are a couple of missing story beats, and the first is a doozy: Why does she need a loving relationship? What are the stakes? As it stands, the piece is merely items in a series; a string of funny anecdotes that don't really add up to anything. This is emphasized by a grating refrain after each vignette: "And again, I'm having a moment. How did I get here?" The line needs to be earned -- or scrapped.

The other story beat concerns her dog, Pagan. Not to go too much into it -- there is a potential spoiler here -- but we need more with the dog. We should see the dog, really get the dog before she heads into the end of the play. It would make for a bigger emotional pay-off.

The writing could be tightened up. There are scenes in the play where Levites interacts with invisible characters from her past, either in person or via cell phone. We see the entire conversation in some of these scenes, including the non-informative "hey whatcha doin'" parts. In other conversations she cuts to the chase. Economy of words would make the piece stronger. These scenes where she acts out her past seem like they were written as an afterthought; maybe the thought was that the show needed more opportunity for acting.

Watching this piece is not an unpleasant experience. If you're doing the Fringe rounds and you have the hour to take in Levites' show, you should. But given a little more time and effort, How Did I Get Here? could be a good piece of theatre, one that we could recommend without reservations. We hope that Levites continues to work on the piece, to shape it and refine it.

How Did I Get Here? plays at The Complex Theatre, 6476 Santa Monica Blvd., in Hollywood on June 20th, at 9:30 pm. Tickets are $10, and may be purchased at the box office. For more information, visit the Hollywood Fringe project page for this production.

Reviewed by Andrew and Pamela Moore.

2011-06-17T09:40:00.000-07:00

Oxpecker Update

Thoughtful and stimulating comments on Tony Frankel's Bitter Lemons piece, including this from Jay McAdams, Executive Director of 24th Street Theatre:

It takes REAL money, and real organizations to consistently create theatre. And the fact that you are dedicated to your art is noble, but if you have no resources to get the work seen, then it’s all for not. This is not a popular notion with small theatres and is too often left unsaid, but they/we need to invest in the business of theatre.

That's just a snippet. Go back to Bitter Lemons to read the whole thing!

2011-06-16T15:39:00.000-07:00

Project Oxpecker

The LA Times-sponsored theatre round-table took place a couple days ago, and judging by the coverage on Culture Monster, it largely missed the mark when not mashing the same, tired buttons. More on that in the not too-distant, after I've had a chance to watch the videos and form a fuller opinion. In the meantime, Tony Frankel's response on Bitter Lemons really struck a chord:

Here is the role of Los Angeles in the National Theatre Scene: Because of our limitless talent pool and relatively inexpensive production costs, this city could be the Petri dish in which we nurture theatre artists and productions which we can then send out into the nation. Period.

The Under-99 set is good at creating an enormous amount of theatre on the shoestringiest of budgets. Every now and then, one of those shows turns out to be jaw-droppingly amazing. A few weeks later, the run ends, the set is torn down, and that's it. Maybe it's brought back later, maybe it's produced by another company, but rare it seems is the show that, incubated in the Under-99s, makes the leap to a bigger stage.

Take Forbidden Zone: Live in the 6th Dimension. Tremendous piece of theatre, sold-out shows, extended run, and the most fun I've had in a theatre in a long time. (My almost embarrassingly glowing review may be found here.) There was some talk of the show coming back, but Sacred Fools has announced their 15th season and it's not on the list. So what happens to this incredible theatrical experience? If this were New York, odds are it would hop to Broadway by way of Off-Broadway, à la Urinetown or Avenue Q.

An independant outlier being snatched up and distributed to larger audiences is not a foreign concept in Hollywood. Small, low budget movies get scooped up and distributed (or remade) all the time. I thought the problem with LA theatre was our industry-obsession. So why haven't we aped this aspect of the movie business?

I once gave a glib outline for how this relationship could work. Here it is again, slightly trimmed:

The average annual LORT budget is just under $7 million. What if a LORT company were to break off $200,000, and fund ten Under-99 productions of new works to the tune of $20K each?

In addition to that $20,000, the LORT company provides access to rehearsal space, stock set and costume pieces, the expert advice of dramaturges, etc. All of it to help those ten companies produce the best possible show with the best possible production values that an Under-99 company can produce.

In exchange, the LORT company reserves the right of first refusal to restage the seeded productions. They can take the shows that hit and graduate them to union houses, reaping the benefits.

This would be a mutually beneficial arrangement, a way for LORT companies to use the Under-99s as laboratories, farm-leagues, etc; a way for Under-99s to budget a show without begging friends and family for more nickels and dimes.

I call this "Project Oxpecker."

"It's okay, big guy. You rest. We got this."

Some rights reserved by aftab.

First things first, we find a better name.

2011-06-10T11:52:00.000-07:00

REVOKED

A couple of days ago over 275,000 non-profit organizations had their status revoked. Over 33,000 of those organizations are in California.

A little background from ARTSblog:

In 2006, Congress asked the IRS to keep better track of the nation’s 1.5 million nonprofit organizations. Yesterday, the IRS revoked the tax-exempt status of 275,000 of them for not filing legally required documents for three consecutive years (2007-2009). Our early estimates are that well over 20,000 are nonprofit ARTS organizations.

Here's the list of 60 Los Angeles companies with "theatre" or "theater" in their name who had their status revoked (did I miss anyone? Follow the link in the article above and check the list.):

A RENEGADE THEATRE ENSEMBLE
AEOLIAN BALLET THEATRE-LA
ALS NATIONAL THEATRE
AMERICAN THEATER DEVELOPMENT
AMERICAN THEATRE OF THE OPERA
BALLET OF THE BOLSHOT THEATRE
BEVERLY HILLS COMMUNITY THEATRE
BLACK WOMEN IN THEATRE WEST INC
BLUE LINE THEATRE COMPANY
BOLDER VISION GROUP, FOUNTAINHEAD THEATRE COMPANY [DBA]
BURBANK THEATRE GUILD
CHAUTAUQUA THEATRE ALLIANCE
DEN OF ENTROPY THEATRE COMPANY INC
DRYLAND THEATRE COMPANY
EPIPHANY THEATRE CO
FRIENDS AND ARTISTS THEATRE, ENSEMBLE FRIENDS AND ARTIST [DBA]
GATEWAY THEATER
GOLDEN WEST OPERA THEATER
GOOD NEIGHBOR THEATER INC
HOLLYWOOD BALLET THEATER FOUNDATION
HOLLYWOOD OPERA THEATER
HUMAN ZOO THEATRE
ILLUSTRIOUS THEATRE ORCHESTRA
INCLINE THE THEATRE GROUP
L A BRIDGES THEATRE CO OF THE DEAF
L A THEATRE ARTISTS
LA MAMA HOLLYWOOD/THEATRE IN
LESTER HORTON DANCE THEATER INC
LOS ANGELES ARTS REPERTORY THEATRE
LOS ANGELES BALLET THEATRE INC
LOS ANGELES DANCE THEATRE
LOS ANGELES FEMINIST THEATER
METROPOLE THEATRE WORKS
METROPOLITAN THEATRES CORPORATION
NAKED TRUTH THEATRE COMPANY
NEW THEATRE INC
ORPHAN PLAYERS THEATRE
OXFORD THEATRE
QUIXOTIC THEATRE
RAGS & PATCHES THEATER
SANDBOX THEATRE COMPANY
SANTA BARBARA ACTORS THEATRE INC
SPOLIN THEATER GAME CENTER
STUDIO THEATRE FOUNDATION DBA LOFT
THE CHAPLIN-ONEILL THEATRE INC
THE COUNCIL FOR MUSICAL THEATRE
THE ENGLISH-SPEAKING THEATRE
THE EXTRAORDINARY THEATRE
THE J MICHAEL BLOOM THEATRE
THE@SPOTLIGHT THEATRE COMPANY
THEATER GALLERY A CALIFORNIA
THEATRE FOR AIDS RESEARCH
THEATRE NEW ORIGINAL WORK INC
TWENTY FIRST STREET THEATRE CO
UNKNOWN THEATER
VENTURE WEST THEATER COMPANY
VINTAGE VARIETY THEATRE
WEST COAST THEATRE COMPANY INC
WEST SIDE THEATRE SOCIETY
WORLD THEATER FOUNDATION

Note: Aside from the humorous illustration at the top of this entry, I'm not editorializing on this. I'm just reporting what little I know about it. The ARTSblog article is very informative on the subject.

It is likely that a few of these companies are essentially defunct. For those that aren't, there is an appeals process. It is notable that so many non-profits are now non-non-profits.

2011-06-07T12:14:00.000-07:00

Listen to this Podcast

"Advice to the Players" is a Shakespeare-centric podcast from Jonathan Redding and Phillip Kelly. Over the course of an hour they delve deep into the themes, subtext and potential to be found the The Bard's great works. The podcast is only three episodes old, but it appears to be bi-weekly, and they bring in guests who have recently produced a Shakespearean play in the Los Angeles area.

Phillip Kelly is a name you no doubt have seen if you follow this blog. He's a frequent collaborator and good friend. I value his aesthetic judgement immensely, and was proud to have him as our founding Artistic Director at Theatre Unleashed.

Jonathan Redding I don't know personally, although I was wowed by his turn as Iago in the Los Angeles Theatre Ensemble's production of Othello (directed by Phillip Kelly) earlier this year. Redding is jaw-droppingly schooled in all things Shakespeare, yet his encyclopedic knowledge is tempered by the practical mind of a working actor, director and producer. Things never get too occult, even as he touches upon more esoteric things.

Together Redding and Kelly engage in insightful dialogue -- "insightful" also spelled "inciteful," as the conversations frequently inspire me to consider possible Shakespearean excursions of my own. (I do have an idea for Hamlet that would be quite fun.)

Subscribe to this podcast and enjoy!

2011-06-02T09:30:00.000-07:00

Outrunning Yourself

Godin on legacies:

Either you're focused on maintaining the legacy features or you're focused on figuring out how to replace them. Driving with your eyes on the rearview mirror is difficult indeed.

In a world of little competition, legacy features are something worth keeping. No sense alienating loyal customers.

But we don't live in a world of little competition. The faster your industry moves, the more likely others are willing to live without the legacy stuff and create a solution that's going to eclipse what you've got, legacies and all.

When you're making theatre on the margins, whether that's producing a play in an under-99 or telling jokes in front of a brick wall, odds are you don't have a legacy. Not yet, anyway. A legacy is not a destination, it's not a spot on a map you can chart a course towards. A legacy is the accumulation of accomplishments, it's conquered territory.

My wife and I went to see Prince at The Forum this past weekend, one of his final "21 Night Stands" concerts. He opened with a montage of some of his hits, prerecorded on some kind of sample bay built into a baby grand piano. In the opening moments he took us on a quick review of thirty some odd years of his musical history. He sang along, he made us sing along. And then a familiar opening passage filled the arena.

The audience went nuts. Prince just smiled and shook his head.

"I'm in rehab!" he exlcaimed, and moved on to the next song. The crowd erupted again, this time in laughter and applause. It was a brilliant moment that acknowledged his past and his present; the fact that we were all wondering if he would give us a taste of "Darling Nikki," despite his relatively newfound faith.

The point is, a legacy -- a real legacy -- is not something you have to assert or defend or apologize for. Sure, it may define you in the way that any person is defined by the choices they make and the actions they take. But you are not beholden to your legacy.

You are especially not beholden if you are just starting out. If Prince can acknowledge his dirtiest song with a wink to the audience and move on to the next hit, there's no reason for an artist or a company with a few years at their back to get all self-important and arrogant about their "legacy." We'll check in on you in a few decades and see what that legacy is. In the meantime, have fun, follow your passion and keep your focus where it belongs: entertaining your audience. Let your legacy sort itself out. It will anyway, whether you like it or not.

Here's a better challange: Try to outrun your legacy. That's how you become immortal.

2011-05-24T11:18:00.000-07:00

Bored

A little Peter Brook for you today:

The problem of the Deadly Theatre is like the problem of the deadly bore. Every deadly bore has head, heart, arms, legs: usually, he has family and friends: he even has his admirers. Yet we sigh when we come across him - and in this sigh we are regretting that somehow he is at the bottom instead of the top of his possibilities. When we say deadly, we never mean dead: we mean something depressingly active, but for this very reason incapable of change. . . . In Mexico, before the wheel was invented, gangs of slaves had to carry giant stones through the jungle and up the mountains, while their children pulled their toys on tiny rollers. The slaves made the toys, but for centuries failed to make the connection. When good actors play in bad comedies or second-rate musicals, when audiences applaud indifferent classics because they enjoy just the costumes or just the way the sets change, or just the prettiness of the leading actress there is nothing wrong. But none the less, have they noticed what is underneath the toy they are dragging on a string? It's a wheel.

(From The Empty Space.)

2011-05-18T09:01:00.000-07:00

That's Good for the Wheel of Destiny Guy, But ...

On the other hand, for those of us who don't risk life and limb each time we step before an audience:

For the rest of us, though, there's a cushion. Being wrong isn't fatal, it's merely something we'd prefer to avoid. We have the privilege of being wrong. Not being wrong on purpose, of course, but wrong as a cost on the way to being right.

Read the whole thing on Seth Godin's blog.

2011-05-17T09:56:00.000-07:00

The Autonym Redux

A fascinating article by Diane Ragsdale about a new corporate model that may just be a better fit for Under-99s. Meet the Low-Profit Limited Liability Company:

How many organizations became nonprofit only to become eligible for gifts and grants? How many, if they might have received investments and grants but maintained partial or total ownership of their entities, might have taken the L3C route? How many feel burdened by the idea of trying to become a “permanent nonprofit institution” and would like to think about closing up shop when the raison d’être has left the building? How many arts organizations struggle to reconcile what they do with the exempt purposes outlined under Internal Revenue Service Section Code 501(c)(3)?

So how does an L3C work? Per Wikipedia:

The L3C is a low-profit limited liability company (LLC), that functions via a business modality that is a hybrid legal structure combining the financial advantages of the limited liability company, an LLC, with the social advantages of a non-profit entity. An L3C runs like a regular business and is profitable. However, unlike a for-profit business, the primary focus of the L3C is not to make money, but to achieve socially beneficial aims, with profit making as a secondary goal. The L3C thus occupies a niche between the for-profit and charitable sectors.

Sometime ago I posted a thought exercise called "The Autonym." The idea was to somehow codify an arts anti-organization; to describe the working relationships based upon mutual respect and free will that I see between independant artists in "the real world." Yeah, I know, crazy. It's sort of a "Bazaar" approach, versus the "Cathedral" approach of the traditional non-profit route. But what sort of legal structure should an Autonymic artist use?

One problem I have with the traditional non-profit route is that the driving reason behind applying for status seems to be gaining access to that great panacea, grant money. Another, less obvious reason: Avoiding corporate taxes. Let's be honest. When you are making theatre on the economic margins, the minimum California corporate tax of $500 can mean the difference between having a set or not.
So how to wrangle the legal coverage of incorporation without building a cathedral? Fiscal sponsorship certainly is one option. The L3C is a very interesting model as well, and one I will have to look into further.

BY THE WAY ... I found Diane Ragsdale's article courtesy of "You've Cott Mail," an email digest one of my New York compatriots turned me onto. It's pretty awesome and worth subscribing to. (HT Sierra Rein!)

2011-05-16T13:28:00.000-07:00

"The magic's in you. What we're doing is triggering the response."
- Paul Binder, Big Apple Circus

Approaching the Circus Vargas tent last night, before I saw so much as the general admission line, I laid eyes on something that made me smile: row after row of white trailers and rvs parked a short distance from the big top.

A few weeks ago I tore through Circus, a PBS original series (that you can watch on Netflix or on the PBS site!) Circus is a six part series that documents a year in the life of Big Apple Circus. It takes the viewer behind the scenes and into the circus family with all the drama, tragedy, and triumph that suggests. It is a remarkable piece of work.

Quite instructive to anyone hoping to make a living in live entertainment. (Certainly moreso than Slings and Arrows, as entertaining as that glacial-paced series may be.)

2011-05-16T11:09:00.000-07:00

CIRCUS VARGAS

I was standing in line for concessions when the show started. I craned to see what little I could of the opening number through a slit in the curtain. Futile. Looking around at the other patrons queueing up for nachos and hot dogs, I wasn't the only one desperate to see what was happening. One guy ahead of me in line smiled at the rest of us and returned to his seat, his concession chore unfinished.

Rather than a straight review of the show, a few observations and lessons learned:

So much of what you see is about trust. When the catcher releases the flyer, and the flyer turns to grab the trapeze, he or she must trust the trapeze will be there. These people trust each other with their lives. Twice nightly, plus matinees on Saturdays and Sundays.
Circus clowns are more effective at directing large numbers of people than anyone else. FEMA should hire guys like Matti Esqueda and Jon Weiss to run relief efforts on the ground. Things would run much smoother.
If you look close enough, you can see the moment to moment adjustments these artists make. They are fully in the moment, fully responsive to the audience and their environment. When something unexpected (for them) happens, they adjust and keep going.
Step back and the performances are seamless, as if these moment to moment adjustments never happened or were planned from the beginning. Consummate performers.
Watch the audience. If you’re in the business of entertaining people and you find yourself at a show (of any stripe) take the time to look around. Remeber what it is all about.
Gestures aren’t wasted. Feet are pointed, fingers extended, posture straight. Even when standing to the side, waiting for the next trick to happen the performers are ON.
The circus is Expectation + Uncertainty x Stakes. Or something like that. Or put another way, dramatic tension is the play between expectation and uncertainty. The stakes elevate the dramatic tension to ... to what? I could do graduate work on this one point and be a happy man.
Circus kids are incredible. Natural show people, capable of the most amazing feats; unpretentious and humble offstage.
The performer who runs the Wheel of Fortune can’t have an "off night."

Note: This is not the Wheel of Destiny performer from Circus Vargas. Rather, it is the only photo I could find that I could use under a limted Creative Commons license.

In my college theatre program, there was an internship requirement. I hated it then, but I see the wisdom of it now. I think it would be beneficial to a young student of theatre to see how it’s down at the level of pure entertainment, to see the nuts and bolts of a practical, workaday troupe of performers. I believe an internship requirement is a good thing, provided it’s an internship working for the circus. (Or as a stand-up comedian, magician, burlesque dancer, variety artist, etc.)

I highly recommend Circus Vargas. If you haven’t been to the circus in a while – or ever – go. Just go.

Check them out at their website, and "like" them on Facebook!

2011-05-15T16:48:00.000-07:00

Ron Lynch's "Tomorrow!"

As I rolled out of bed at 8:00 am this morning -- what passes for "sleeping in" around my house -- something occurred to me: Of course the Steve Allen Theater at the Center for Inquiry has a show that runs until 2:00-something am. Where do they have to be on a Sunday morning that they can't sleep in? It was a late night for me, and I'm used to rolling in at 1:30 - 2:00 am on weekdays. Exhausted as I was, I was just as exhilarated over this exceptional show.

Tomorrow! ran two hours without an intermission, and it flew by. Don't Stop or We'll Die opened with a short set of manic, comic nonsense. Imagine what the offspring of Flight of the Conchords and Ben Folds Five would sound like, and you will be a fraction of the way to understanding what this band is like. Better yet, track them down stalker-like and catch them live. They deserve your ticket money. This trio of bass, drums and keyboards are over-the-top yet pitch-perfect at exploiting the tropes of alt/pop music.

Our hosts for the evening, Ron Lynch and Frank Conniff took the stage. These guys had a casual, easy-going rapport and never missed a joke. Even when straying into anti-humor and the awkward stillness that is the hallmark of such comic absurdity, they were captivating. If the show had just been two hours of Ron and Frank ... well, it probably would have grown tiresome after an hour or so. But that first hour would be heaven.

The bulk of the evening was stand-up. Jimmy Dore, Josh Fadem, Ed Greer, Hampton Yount and Baron Vaughn, each solid performers. I am unaccustomed to seeing that much good stand-up in a row. I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop! It never did. Baron Vaughn in particular was uproarious, doing a bit about a homeless guy -- you know, descriptions of stand-up acts suck. Just kick yourself in the ass for missing "smoke pellet." Seriously, if you love stand-up, go see this show. Lynch obviously attracts top-notch talent.

The sketch comedy by Knuckles and Tits was surprisingly good, as well. Let's face it, we live in a town full of shitty comedy. I don't know about you, but bad improv and bad sketch turn my thoughts to suicide. When the word "sketch" is uttered onstage as part of an intro, I impulsively clench my jaw and brace for the worst. Knuckles and Tits were funny, and it's not like they were breaking new comedy ground! What they brought to the show was smartly written and fully committed to in performance.

We had a bit of MST3K-style awesomeness in the form of a scene from Stone Cold, an overblown piece of adrenaline and testosterone-drenched shit starring Brian Bosworth. Ron and Frank stood on either side of the screen providing the comic commentary.

And it ended with the Walsh Brothers. And Moon Pies. My God, the Moon Pies.

The main takeaway from the night is that everyone was having fun. Every performer, every audience member. With a ticket price of $8 and ample free parking in the lot behind the Center, why the hell wouldn't you go?

I'm mean, c'mon. Where do you have to be on a Sunday morning that you can't sleep in?

2011-04-20T09:57:00.000-07:00

And The Stone Rolls Back Down The Hill

His rash fierce blaze of riot cannot last,
For violent fires soon burn out themselves;
Small showers last long, but sudden storms are short;
He tires betimes that spurs too fast betimes;
With eager feeding food doth choke the feeder:
Light vanity, insatiate cormorant,
Consuming means, soon preys upon itself.
-- Richard II, Act II, Scene 1

Theatre is the phoenix's art: a big burst of passion and it's over -- for a little while, at least. The cycle continues and continues. (I wonder if that's why they call it "burnout?")

2011-04-08T10:27:00.000-07:00

The Wisdom of A Pancake Juggler

"Scot Nery's Crash Course" photo by Scott Beale / Laughing Squid

Some rights reserved by Laughing Squid

One of the amazing artists I've met in the past few years is Scot Nery. He thinks like a performer -- there's no other way to put it. His is a keen, entertainer's intellect. I love talking shop with the guy (it doesn't happen enough for my taste) because he never fails to reframe my ill-formed opinions with the wisdom of a juggler who has performed around the world before thousands of people.

For instance, I posted this photo on Facebook, with the accompanying commentary:

My commentary:

It's a little apples and oranges, but yeah. Basically.

‎"Apples and oranges" because Dunham is a vent and the Muppets are ... well, the Muppets. A more appropriate comparison would be Edgar Bergen, particularly since Bubba J is a Mortimer Snerd knock-off.

Scot commented with the following:

They're dead.

Put up a picture of Satan's Angel (who's living) and how many burlesque performers can suck it?

It would be nice if people tried to do everything better than their predecessors, but even the trying isn't likely at all.

Edgar Bergen didn't invent the vent doll or the country-bumpkin character. Scot's right! Telling Dunham to "suck it" kind of misses the point: He has only ever made a living as a ventriloquist. What's more, he has put ventriloquism back into public view in a major way -- he's as big a celebrity as Bergen ever was. (Read all about Dunham here.)

Is Dunham's "art" as sophisticated as Bergen's or even Henson's? Who cares. The world would be a poorer place without ventriloquism, and Dunham is making it happen now. (Besides, eighty years from now people will most likely look back at Dunham the same way we look back at Bergen.)

Scot = Genius.

A few days later I posted this brilliant observation:

One of the disadvantges of theatre vs. film: In theatre, promotion and marketing is concurrent with pre-production.

You have to sell the thing before it has crystalized into something saleable.

Scot Nery:

movies might as well be the same. They don't advertise what you get. My mantra is "Lie to make it sound good, but so they won't be disappointed when they see it."

All the stuff I've promoted for myself has been impossible to describe and ...make it sound worth seeing. I sometimes have to make up some description that's totally different from the show and then make the show so good that people don't worry about what got them in the joint.

I have nothing to add, other than: Genius.

Definitely check out Scot Nery online at his website, jugglegood.com. But nothing compares with catching his act live! He has a performance calendar on the site, and I highly recommend tracking his pancake-juggling-ass down. You won't be disappointed!

2011-04-01T10:06:00.000-07:00

Gone to Croatan

So--the very first colony in the New World chose to renounce its contract with Prospero (Dee/Raleigh/Empire) and go over to the Wild Men with Caliban. They dropped out. They became "Indians," "went native," opted for chaos over the appalling miseries of serfing for the plutocrats and intellectuals of London.
- Hakim Bey
(A huge asshole who wrote one great essay,
The Temporary Autonomous Zone.)

This blog is going to Croatan.

Instead of armchair-philosophizing about the specific world of Under-99 seat Theatre, I'm refocusing my efforts on the broad and vital universe of the variety arts. There's a quote from Peter Brook that I've dog-eared the hell out of on this here blog. Indulge me one more time:

It is always the popular theatre that saves the day. Through the ages it has taken many forms, and there is only one factor that they all have in common -- a roughness. Salt, sweat, noise, smell: the theatre that's not in a theatre, the theatre on carts, on wagons, on trestles, audiences standing, drinking, sitting round tables, audiences joining in, answering back: theatre in back rooms, upstairs rooms, barns; the one-night stands, the torn sheet pinned up across the hall, the battered screen to conceal the quick changes -- that one generic term, theatre, covers all this and the sparkling chandeliers too.

"Salt, sweat, noise, smell."

Truly theatrical, and truly mad.

2011-03-21T11:06:00.000-07:00

d. Theatre

Photo by Suttonhoo

Imagine for a moment if a theatre company put together a season like this:

It is not a static process, but an approach to creative problem solving. Each team and individual develops their own process as they work on a problem, adapting and adding to it as they go. The key element is being mindful of how you work, not just what your outcome is. Regardless of the steps you take, the elements underlying the process are the mindsets of empathy, an attitude of prototyping, collaboration, iteration and feedback.

This is the approach taught at the Hasso Plattner Institute of Design at Stanford, or "d. School" for short.

Imagine not writing or directing, but ideating; not rehearsing, but prototyping. Imagine audience engagement as the first consideration, not a happy by-product of the production process.

I have been listing in this sort of direction for a while now. A chance discovery of the latest issue of STANFORD Magazine, featuring a cover story about d. School has left me spellbound.

2011-03-15T09:18:00.000-07:00

On Spiders

photo by jason kravitz on Flickr

I really hate spiders. The spindley legs that keep the body eerily suspended in the air; pinchers and fangs; the way light reflects off the back of a black widow -- it makes me shiver. "Necrosis" is one of the most frightening words I've ever encountered. I fear spider bites to the point where I check my shoes before putting them on every morning. My yard work gloves are folded so that nothing can crawl inside. Hell, I check the oven mit before putting my hand inside.

And yet, I am endlessly fascinated by them. When I find a particularly gruesome subject my first instinct is to capture it in a jar, not squish it. I need to get as close as possible to really see the damn thing. To figure it out.

When writing (or making theatre at all) I think it's important to find your spider. What subject matter or idea scares the living shit out of you? Go there. Immerse yourself in the fear, in the revulsion. Force yourself to confront the unconfrontable. Pursue dark thoughts down dark alleys, and force them into the light of contemplation. Even if it doesn't cure you of the fear (I'm still scared of spiders!) you are bound to learn something. Learning and sharing what we've learned about our basic humanity is the point (I think) of storytelling.

If you're comfortable in the pursuit, you're doing it wrong.

2011-02-24T10:03:00.000-08:00

Rightsizing on the Margin

A thought-provoking post from Seth Godin today coincides with a subject I am struggling with at present:

This is backwards but here you go: businesses that exist exist because the marketplace allows them to function at the right size. There were a lot of bowling alleys in the 1960s because the number of people you needed to run one plus the rent was just covered by the revenue you could expect. There was a right size, one that people were willing to take on and run.

The next level up from Mom and Pop feels different. Different furnishings, different rent, different payroll. It's not a little bigger, it's a whole quantum level different. And then down the street is the chain store, the one with 40 outlets and regional vice presidents and regional newspaper ads. Those things naturally go together, the scale is right.

Under-99 theatre is theatre on the margins. The economics of producing a play is whack at the Broadway level, nevermind at the "buying props out of your own pocket" level. At least the cats on Broadway are getting paid. (No pun intended.)

There is a problem of scale here that needs to be sorted out.

When in pain, consider your scale. When you're too big or too small for the revenue or the impact you seek, you'll feel it in your bones. Leap.

There must be a way to crack through the "Community Theater" ceiling and make under-99 theatre more of a career and less of a volunteer activity. Or perhaps doing it because it's a fun thing to do is enough. Maybe I'd feel better if Sisyphus had a few party balloons and some crepe paper streamers hanging around him. I'm not sure. Like I said, I'm struggling with it.

2011-02-17T10:34:00.000-08:00

An Oldie but a Goodie

This morning I found myself thinking about theatre on the margins and busywork. You remember busywork. It's what school teachers give their kids when they don't have anything productive to do.

Here's the Merriam-Webster definition:

work that usually appears productive or of intrinsic value but actually only keeps one occupied

On a whim, I searched through Godin's blog archive to see if he had ever addressed busywork.

Indeed, he has:

"I get that you were busy. But did you do anything important?"

Busy does not equal important. Measured doesn't mean mattered.

And:

Perhaps it's time for the blank sheet of paper, the cancellation of a long-time money loser, the difficult conversation, the creative breakthrough...

He posted this in February 2010. I wish I had read it then.

I should note that there's a huge difference between busywork and Miyagi-do karate training. How do you know the difference? Self-reflection, baby. Asking yourself, "Why?"

There is always a new season in hand and we are too busy to ask the only vital question which measures the whole structure. Why theatre at all? What for? Is it an anachronism, a superannuated oddity, surviving like an old monument or a quaint custom? Why do we applaud, and what? Has the stage a real place in our lives? What function can it have? What could it serve? What could it explore? What are its special properties?

(From the Gospel According to Peter Brook, aka The Empty Space.)

There is room for experimentation and exercise. There is room for development. But it all must push forward to some goal, some realization of your mission. Choose a spot on the horizon and work towards it.

As it turns out, choosing a spot on the horizon will enable you to better evaluate your actions and determine if you are spinning your wheels, or if you karate training:

2011-02-15T13:44:00.000-08:00

Odds Are ...

Odds are, a play produced in Los Angeles will have far more lean nights than it will sold-out nights. Odds are, the reviews will be mixed. At best. If you can get the press to turn out. Odds are you'll find yourself playing to the same friends and family who show up for everything.

In other words, your chance of winning is so vanishingly small it's as if, from an investment point of view, there are no winners.

Which means that you should play the game for the thrill of playing it, for the benefits of playing it to a normal conclusion, not because you think you have any shot at all of winning the grand prize.

(from Seth Godin's blog.)

You can try to feather the season with "sure things," or you can go bold. If you're making theatre on the margins, why the hell wouldn't you go bold?

Why do we sacrifice so much energy to our art? Not in order to teach others but to learn with them what our existence, our organism, our personal and unrepeatable experience have to give us; to learn to break down the barriers which surround us and to free ourselves from the breaks which hold us back, from the lies about ourselves which we manufacture daily for ourselves and for others; to destroy the limitations caused by our ignorance and lack of courage; in short, to fill the emptiness in us: to fulfill ourselves. Art is neither a state of the soul (in the sense of some extraordinary, unpredictable moment of inspiration) nor a state of man (in the sense of a profession or social function). Art is a ripening, an evolution, an uplifting which enables us to emerge from darkness into a blaze of light.

(from Jerzy Grotowski.)

A ripening, an evolution, an uplifting which enables us to emerge from darkness into a blaze of light.

I'm not sure you can do that with stunt casting or producing the red-hot play of the moment. I could be wrong, and I did not always feel this way. But as the final curtain falls and the boulder rolls back down the hill will you feel challenged or insulated? Either answer may be fine; at least know the answer!

Graphic by fuoro. Some rights reserved.

2011-02-09T15:51:00.000-08:00

Doing the Impossible

Chelsea Sutton, whose play 99 Impossible Things closes this weekend made a bit of a stir with her heartfelt and awesome response to negative criticism:

I’m profoundly grateful. I’m thankful I have a place to try new things. I’m thankful to fail and to discover and to succeed past my expectations. I’m thankful for reviewers who came out and wasted one or two hours of their evening listening to my work. I’m grateful for fear – and grateful when I can overcome it. I’m grateful for the opportunity to be hurt, to be mangled, to be exasperated by negative opinions of my work. And I’m most grateful for the opportunity to stress about it for two months straight and then finally realize that all of it really doesn’t matter.

(The above snippet was featured as the Bitter Lemons "Potable Quotable" for the week)

The problem with theatre is that it requires an audience. A painter can paint 1,000 shitty canvases before showing the one good painting; a writer can waste reams of paper and GBs of memory before revealing the one profound verse. A theatre artist must have an audience in order for the art to be actualized. The people in the dark are part of the equation of an art-in-progress.

Being privy to the seeming impossibility of producing a stage play, I hate writing bad reviews.

In July of last year, I wrote my first pan for Stage Happenings. After, I posted the following on Facebook:

I've heard some of these things before, but subjective experience is a more effective instructor:

1. Reviewers want a play to be good. It SUCKS having to write a negative review! I know how much hard work goes into putting on a play. It's a labor of love, compensated by applause and the dear memories one makes whilst working with fellow artists in the pursuit of a common goal. The theatre artist taps a vein and pours himself into the process. A negative review thus takes on the color of a personal attack, regardless the intent of the reviewer.

2. If the actor doesn't connect emotionally with the role, the audience will not connect emotionally with the play. Period. (Some day I'll have to write up my theories regarding transference and catharsis. There is a real, psychological process that happens in theatre.)

3. You cannot force a play to do more than the script allows. Listen to the text. Roll the dialogue around in your mouth. Endeavor to understand the words better than the audience ever possibly could. It pays off when producing Shakespeare; it's an equally potent approach for modern works. Mamet says that the job of the players is to simply say the words. That sounds like an oversimplification, but the truth often does.

It can be painful to one's ego, but it is necessary to strip away the preconceived notions you bring to a text. Let the text be the text. Keep your personal prejudices and pet peeves out of it.

4. Reviewers are obligated to speak truth. Just as the production team is obligated to treat the text in front of them, divorced of all superfluous additives, so to is it necessary for a reviewer to review the PLAY THEY ARE ACTUALLY WATCHING, not the prejudices and pet peeves they bring into the house with them.

5. Reviewers are obligated to be specific. If I wrote a bunch of snarky words that added up to "I didn't like it," there would be negative worth to what I do; a net loss for all involved. Not only would I contribute nothing, I would trample on the aforementioned labor of love, needlessly insulting their efforts. That's a dick thing to do.

It was damned difficult, writing this review. It's one thing to be an opinionated ass. It's quite another to parse your opinions in a helpful way.

It is important for a theatre artist to take their lumps and keep moving. Likewise, it is important for critics to do more than riff on how bad a production may be. If our under-99 seat theatres are populated primarily by friends and family members, in all likelihood a critic's most earnest readers are the very people he or she is reviewing. We have an opportunity to help improve the quality of the shows we see; to offer constructive notes, placing our aesthetic judgement on display in a forum as public as the theatre. I believe that is the most worthwhile and helpful thing we can do, for artist and audience alike.

At the very least we need to remember one thing: Snark is not a public service.

2011-02-09T10:22:00.000-08:00

You're just Wrong, Godin

See? I don't always agree with Seth Godin:

Self sufficiency appears to be a worthy goal, but it's now impossible if you want to actually get anything done.

All our productivity, leverage and insight comes from being part of a community, not apart from it.

(From Seth Godin's blog.)

Au contraire, chauve monsieur ...

You have to do both. You must be self-sufficient within the community to get anything done. Rely on the community, sure, but rely on yourself first. That's what makes you of value to the community: the ability to originate an idea, take action, and produce something without the permission, oversight or approval of others. Having value to the community greatly enriches your ability to exchange leverage and insight with others.

If autarky were truly dead, that would mean all possible trails had been blazed. Do you believe there are no further innovations to be had? Tribes need leaders, n'est-ce pas?

The goal is to strike the right balance of self-sufficiency and community, stubbornness and generosity. (That's also a problem we face in theatre.)

2011-02-04T10:13:00.000-08:00

GOOMH, Godin

part three

If you make a big deal about not trying to please everyone, and still run yourself ragged pandering to your members, you may be a part of an under-99 seat (dues-paying) theatre company:

A motto for those doing work that matters:

"We can't please everyone, in fact, we're not even going to try."

[...]

The math here is simple. As soon as you work hard to please everyone, you have no choice but to sand off the edges, pleasing some people less in order to please others a bit more. And it drives you crazy at the same time.

Emphasis his. (From Seth Godin's blog.)

2011-02-04T10:06:00.000-08:00

Layers of Failure

A thought occurred to me this morning, a theory that I hope to come back to with more depth, after I've stewed on it a bit. Here's the theory:

I've noticed ripple effects in bad shows. Bad dialogue leads to odd directorial choices which leads to square-peg acting. At some point in the production of a play, something may go wrong. The resultant problems for that production will extend from that initial error. Since traditional play production is a linear affair, you can chart out a hierarchy of problem areas.

Play script

Director's take on the material

Casting

Rehearsal (Actor's take on the material)

Design

Venue

Technical demands

(I know I'm missing steps. This is only a cursory essay of this theory.)

When troubleshooting (or criticizing) a play, one could go through this list step by step to 1) see what each person may have contributed to the final product and 2) discover where things went fundamentally wrong. The deeper the flaw, the less likely you will be able to fix it, but at least you can stop hounding your actors if the script is shit. (I guess if you know the script is bad, you can make the most of it and come out the other end with a pretty entertaining product. I've seen that happen.)

For some productions, the problems will be holistic. For the vast majority of shows, this may be a handy evaluator's tool. It will require further cogitation.

2011-02-02T10:57:00.000-08:00

RE: Bad Plays vs. Bad Movies

This past weekend, I took in a bad play and a bad movie. No one intends to make a bad play or bad movie, and I should say at the outset that I don't begrudge the theatre or movie artists one bit. I understand how impossible it is to make a play or movie, and I am certain the folks involved in both were very earnest in their attempts to entertain.

My experience coming out of the play was very different from my experience coming out of the movie, and it raised the question for me: why are bad plays so much worse then bad movies?

For starters, you can't fix a stage play in post. You can't ADR or do reshoots. If you eff up on stage, it's done.

Granted, in the theatre you do have multiple "takes" to get it right, to explore other subtle possibilities, and to react directly off the audience feedback loop. If you're the master of what you're doing, you can make the micro-adjustments necessary to hook an audience and reel them in. Friday night's "dead kitten speech" may require more vehemence than Saturday night's version of the same monologue, based on how awake the audience is. The actor with that uncanny third-eye fixed on the audience can make the adjustment whilst in the moment. Film actors can't do that.

This moment-to-moment connection with the audience is the problem, and what makes a bad play worse than a bad movie.

In live theatre, there is no physical barrier between audience and actor. And so the audience develops a stronger identification with the actors (or at least they can). A dropped line or messed up cue transfers a tremendous amount of stress to the audience in the theatre. There is physical detachment in the cinema, and I would argue that although the connection between audience and actor suffers as a result, that relationship is far more forgiving of gaffes.

These two aspects taken together -- the technical and the psychological -- is what makes a bad play worse than a bad movie.

2011-02-01T08:50:00.000-08:00

GOOMH, Godin

part two

If you find yourself spending hours discussing a five-year plan, yet wind up doing basically the same old thing in the new season, you may be part of an under-99 seat theatre company:

Strategy is worth thinking about if it causes you to make difficult or non-intuitive decisions. And so you have to test your commitment. "Are you saying that we have to cancel this product line?" is the sort of reaction your strategy statements ought to generate.

(From Seth Godin's blog.)

2011-01-24T09:56:00.000-08:00

GOOMH, Godin

When people start arguing about the mission statement whilst neglecting other 800 pound gorillas in the room, you may be part of an under-99 seat theatre company:

It's a lot easier for an organization to adopt new words than it is to actually change anything.

Real change is uncomfortable. If it's not feeling that way, you've probably just adopted new words.

(from Seth Godin's blog.)

2011-01-24T09:51:00.000-08:00

Open the Door

An interesting blog post by Seth Godin has stirred the embers for me today:

People can be pushed, but the minute you stop, they stop. If the habit you've taught is to achieve in order to avoid getting chewed out, once the chewing out stops, so does the achievement.

That's the "stick" approach to management, something I've written about in the past here at Mad Theatrics. It's one of the drawbacks of a dues-paying company. (Now that I'm a free agent, I don't miss the converstions about how to kick our members in the ass and get them to participate more in front-of-house duties, committee membership and work calls.)

An arts institution is not a factory, and under-99 seat theatre even less so. You can't crank out theatre like widgets and expect any kind of longterm quality. Under-99 seat theatre is a bespoke industry, or at least it should be. To flourish, a company must custom-make each production for its audience. It's about taking time, taking care and putting as much passion as you can muster onto the stage.

How do you go about making bespoke theatre? A place to start is putting a little more faith and trust in the people you decided to collaborate with in the first place:

Give people a platform, not a ceiling. Set expectations, not to manipulate but to encourage. And then get out of the way, helping when asked but not yelling from the back of the bus.

When people learn to embrace achievement, they get hooked on it.

There was a guy I once knew who could not brainstorm to save his life. In brainstorming sessions, he would frequently clash with others, arguing why things wouldn't work or could never happen. It got to the point where the others stopped inviting him to brainstorming sessions. They were tired of having the doors slammed in their faces. He's in charge of a bespoke theatre company now. It's going to be interesting to see how things go.

2010-12-08T10:25:00.000-08:00

Creating vs. Determination

An excerpt from Creating, by Robert Fritz. This is from chapter 15, "Long-Term Creating," a chapter that deals specifically with goal-setting:

The one ingredient you don’t need is determination. I am tired of hearing all the motivational speakers attempt to goose their audiences into the ranks of the determined. If you must muster determination to create what you want, you are going about it all wrong. Great musicians do not use determination to develop their skills, nor do great athletes, nor do great actors, nor do great inventors, nor do great scientists, nor do great furniture designers. Determination is for people who are not very good at what they do. Determination is a short-term motivational manipulation that is designed to overcome inertia, procrastination, and ineptitude. The power of determination runs out awfully fast. That’s why those who attempt to instill themselves with determination need to continually bombard themselves with motivational tapes and books. You cannot build momentum based on determination or through other forms of willpower manipulation.

(Emphasis his.)

[NOTE: I deleted some unnecessary commentary on this quote. I think it speaks for itself quite well.]

Etch that phrase into your shaving mirror so you see it every morning: "Determination is for people who are not very good at what they do."

2010-12-07T10:49:00.000-08:00

2010 Year in Review: Torrid Affaire

[My year kicked off with the restaging of my play Torrid Affaire by Theatre Unleashed. Below is my "Playwright's Statement" from the program of that run.]

Theatre Unleashed presents: Torrid Affaire

Funny story. Torrid Affaire grew out of frustration.

Back in 2005, I had this nutty idea to produce a play. I'd cast some of the wonderful people I had met over the previous year of "getting back into theatre," rent a small hall for a limited run, and see if I still knew what I was doing. After all, I am a college educated artist! (Insert impressed "oohs" and "aahs" here.) I had the play all picked out, a farcical work about five women in the midst of change, each harboring secrets. I cast the show, did a first read-through ... and got word that my request for rights had been declined.

After yelling at the walls and scaring the dogs for the better part of the afternoon, I announced to my very patient and understanding wife, "Fuck it! I'll write a play myself!" I sat down, and two weeks later the first draft of Torrid Affaire was finished. The cast was on board with the change (apparently, I'm very charismatic when I'm angry,) and rehearsals began immediately. I workshopped the play on the fly -- tweaking this line, rewriting those pages -- like a quarterback calling plays on the field. The play opened to a packed house, and closing night was sold out. Not bad for a two night run.

The first cast of Torrid Affaire (L to R): Jacqueline Valmont, Cassandra Cousineau, Amy Ray, Carrie Spellman, Pamela Moore, and that tall drink of water in the back is Josh Green.

Torrid Affaire became the calling card that got me into a theatre company later that year, that proved my chops to new collaborators, and helped convince them I could write a play about the backstage antics at a 1940s burlesque hall when we broke off and started this company.

The lesson, at least for me, is as follows: When you get pissed-off, do something about it. When the threshhold guardians of life tell you "NO!" find a way to do it anyway. Trust your abilities, trust your friends, and follow the path you've committed to. The longterm pay-off cannot be estimated; positive action has untold repercussions that resonate in ways you may never appreciate.

Enough preaching. I hope you enjoy Torrid Affaire. Although born of frustration, it was crafted to delight.

The Theatre Unleashed cast of Torrid Affaire (clockwise from bottom left): Taryn Chaifetz, Darci Dixon, Katie Sikkema, Annmarie Migini, Ana Therese Lopez and that slice of man meat in the middle is Josh Morrison.

2010-12-06T09:40:00.000-08:00

Merry Filthy Christmas

Produced by Darren T. Mangler and Theatre Unleashed at Sidewalk Studio Theater in Burbank

[DISCLAIMER: I co-founded Theatre Unleashed in 2008 and served as president of the company until October of this year. I have also had the great fortune of working with Darren Mangler a number of times, and consider him a friend. I kind of know Josh Green, as well. :-) ]

Darren Mangler is an animal; a great comic beast who roams unbridled across the vast, untamed wild of Los Angeles comedy. He is incapable of not being funny. Actually, I take that back -- in The Unserious Chekhov earlier this year, I directed Darren in Chekhov's short play "On the Main Road," and he manages dramatic material with the same balls-out committment with which he approaches comedy. But I digress.

Merry Filthy Christmas is billed as "L.A.'s Longest Running Holidy Sketch Show" -- it certainly predates Theatre Unleashed. Our company was just a twinkle in our naive little eyes when I first heard of the show, at that time produced at Write/Act Repertory in Hollywood.

Is it offensive? I suppose so. To be honest, even the raunchiest jokes are presented with such good humor and purity (yes, purity) of spirit it's easy to laugh in spite of one's self. There were a few groaners (what comedy show would be complete without them?) But overall the night was -- dare I say? -- good, clean fun. Good clean fun with ample incest, anal-sex and scatalogical jokes. It is a strange line that Mangler and Co., walk, and they walk it well.

This past Friday night was your last chance to catch the 2010 edition of this show, but you should make plans to catch this naughty and nice show next year. I know I'll be back!

2010-12-02T15:44:00.000-08:00

Pin-Up Girls Progress

Pin-Up Girls in process.

[NOTE: I'm cleaning out old drafts again. Here's a brief snippet from 7/16/08, shortly after I held auditions for Pin-Up Girls (and before the final draft was done, 'cause that's how I roll.) I'm experiencing a similar problem with the new play, Lang. It's good to remind myself in moments like this that I have been there before. Pin-Up Girls became a box office and critical hit for Theatre Unleashed. I had know idea what I was in store for when I wrote these words.]

HELEN
Trumpet players make good kissers. I know from experience.

ETHEL
How many experiences?

HELEN
You know, I don't like you any more.

I've been "working on" Pin-Up Girls for a few years now. It has taken on epic stature in my mind, and there was a point a couple of weeks back where I was seriously considering throwing in the towel on it. Because, you see, I was afraid that nothing I could write would be as good as what I had in mind.

There is a term for that kind of thinking. The term is "crazy." Nothing ever measures up to what you imagine, if only because imagination is not tethered to such real-life concerns as "story structure" and "good dialogue."

The trick is to capture the feeling I get when the imaginary Pin-Up Girls unspools before my "mind's eye," to hit the essential story beats, and to create something that measures up to the impossibly high standard I have set for this thing.

2010-12-01T12:07:00.000-08:00

If You're Not a Part of the Solution ...

One of my boyhood idols, a Christian song evangelist named Jeff Steinberg posted the following quote on Facebook today:

"A pessimist is one who makes difficulties of his opportunities, and an optimist is one who makes opportunities of his difficulties."

- Harry Truman

Jeff was one of the first entertainers--who made a living as an entertainer--that I met. I was maybe three or four years-old at the time. He has an incredible story, and a powerful voice. If he isn't the picture of optimism as defined above, I don't know who is.

"Don't tell me why it can't be done; help me figure out how it can." That was a mantra I held onto over the past few years. Nothing frustrates me more than people saying "No, but ...." If you're not in the solution business, you should maybe not be in the theatre business.

Which is it to be? Making difficulties of your opportunities, or making opportunities of your difficulties?

2010-11-29T13:45:00.000-08:00

Romeo and Juliet

Produced by Merry War Theatre Group at the American Legion Hollywood

[DISCLOSURE: Co-founder of MWTG and Assitant Director of this production, Phillip Kelly is a dear friend and collaborator (he's one half of "Mssrs. Snapper & Buddy," a neo-vaudvilian act. I'm the other half.) He's also the rare person with whom I can be brutally honest about things of an artistic nature, and vice-versa. There are no eggshells between us, and we've often disagreed passionately about theatre.]

I enjoyed Merry War Theatre Group's production of Romeo and Juliet. An earnest, appealing cast brings a scrappy production of a Shakespearean staple, relishing in the humor of it all. We've all seen this show. We've read it. We know it like few other Shakespeare plays. Merry War ditches the emo-melodrama and mines the humanity of Romeo and Juliet's relationship. When Romeo kills Tybalt in an act of revenge, things begin spiralling out of control. The stakes become real for the star-crossed lovers in a way I haven't seen happen before. The storytelling is from the heart and from the head.

The play begins in the downstairs bar, where improvised business between characters leads to the prologue. This production of Romeo and Juliet takes place in the Verona Hotel and Casino. The Montagues are service industry workers, the Capulets are patrons of the hotel and casino. As seems to be the case all too often with attempts to stage Shakespeare somewhere else, the framing conceit doesn't add much to the storytelling, and doesn't play much further than the prologue in the bar. It doesn't distract, either -- oftentimes what seems like a clever idea imposes itself too heartily on the text, warping it. That does not happen here.

The principle playing space is a cavernous, dark atrium in the center of the American Legion building. The actors are before us and to our right and left on the ground floor. They are also above us, on a second floor balcony that surrounds us. We are in the center of all the action, and director Chase McKenna uses this space to great effect.

McKenna is a lovable Juliet, and her Romeo, Adam Burch, is equally appealing. Other stand-outs in the ensemble include McKinley Belcher III who imbues Mercutio with a delightful flippancy, and Bobbie Keegan who brings a brogue-ish charm to the Nurse. I'm happy to say there's not a dull note in the entire cast.

BRING CASH FOR THE BAR! And keep in mind that you may not bring your drinks with you into the principle performing space.

Fridays, Saturdays and Sundays at 8:00 pm through December 12th at The Hollywood American Legion, 2035 N. Highland Ave., Los Angeles. Bar opens at 6:00pm. There is ample parking at the American Legion, but bring $5 CASH.

Tickets via Brown Paper Tickets or Goldstar.

2010-11-15T09:43:00.000-08:00

Burlesque is Theatre

"No matter how huge the goal, project or problem, if you diligently continue to chip away at it or take even the tiniest steps forward to correct the situation, you can achieve the results that you desire…”
-- Catherine D'Lish

There is a fantastic interview with burlesque dancer/ravishing beauty Catherine D'Lish at 21st Century Burlesque that brings to mind the concept of a "showperson." (Note: There are a couple of NSFW pictures embedded in the article.)

I absolutely feel that it is each performer’s responsibility to entertain the audience. That somebody being on stage makes them feel good about themselves, or empowered, or that they are sending an important message to educate someone should take a back seat (in my opinion) to holding the interest of the spectators. I’m not saying that every act should be frivolous fluff, just that the individuals sitting (or standing) out there in the dark must be presented with something that doesn’t leave them feeling left out.

For some time I've meant to publish an essay on burlesque as a perfect theatrical form. That's a work in progress and will probably turn into one of my ponderously pedantic multi-parters. In the meantime, I encourage you, the reader to seek out a burlesque show and see what it's all about. With the new Cher/Christina Aguilara movie dropping soon, you may be inclined to believe the glossy Hollywood take on what is in fact a vibrant, growing artform.

In Los Angeles, I recommend Peepshow Menagerie, Monday Night Tease and Victory Variety Hour. That's where you'll find me onstage these days.

2010-11-01T15:00:00.000-07:00

IF I HAD IT TO DO ALL OVER AGAIN ...

No job is too small for CAPTAIN HINDSIGHT! (via South Park Studios)

... things would be very different. As Pamela is fond of quoting, "You live and learn and then there's Luvs."

How different, you ask? Try this on for size:

THE AUTONYM*

We, the undersigned, agree to work together in creating works of art inspired by passion, under the banner of “The Autonym.”

Our participation in this association is entirely voluntary and at will. We owe no allegiance to The Autonym. We are not members of The Autonym. Rather, we align ourselves with each other, as individual artists and with mutual respect.

The Autonym has no bylaws, no logo, and no fixed location in space. There are no dues and no membership requirements.

To become an Autonymic artist, an artist must be invited to enter into this agreement by an existing Autonymic artist.

Individual artists who wish to produce a work of art inspired by passion under the banner of “The Autonym” must work out individual agreements with other Autonymic artists, as necessary. These agreements exist outside The Autonym, and shall not alter, amend or alloy this agreement.

Individual artists may take it upon themselves to establish activities to facilitate the voluntary association of artists under the banner of “The Autonym,” but such facilitations shall be the sole responsibility of the individuals who chose to pursue them, and shall be pursued respectfully in regard to other Autonymic artists.

It is requested but not required that Autonymic artists acknowledge their participation in this agreement with the words, “Produced in Association with The Autonym.”

As “The Autonym” indicates an agreement to work with other Autonymic artists, it is suggested that a work of art produced under the banner ought to have more than one Autonymic artist involved.

Autonymic artists may withdraw their participation in this association at any time, for any reason by respectfully announcing that decision to the other Autonymic artists.

This agreement will terminate one year after the second signature date below. It may not be renewed. Rather, if the undersigned agree to continue working together in creating works of art inspired by passion, they may choose to revive the banner with a new agreement.

Name Signature Date

(* Literally, "A name by which a people or social group refers to itself.")

"The Autonym" is a purposefully artificial construct. It is little more than a statement of intention to work together, and a banner to signal to the public that a particular group of artists has produced a specific work of art. (It is also one letter off from "antonym." Make of that what you will.)

It's either about passion and eagerness to work together, or it's pointless. Why settle for a Sisyphean chore when there are many other mountains to climb?

2010-10-29T10:56:00.000-07:00

Attention to Detail

I've spent more of my time in the past two years focused on doing burlesque than on making theatre, but I still write and direct, occasionally act, and I go to plays with Andrew all the time. In burlesque, the best performers pay great attention to detail in the few minutes they have to tell their stories. In theatre, attention to detail can make or break the hour or two of action on stage.

Let me clearly define this concept. A production fully commits to the given circumstances of the play. Everything contributes to the concept and vision the director wants to communicate with the work. I call it "going all the way" in burlesque. It doesn't require a huge budget; it requires a team that understands the piece and cares about making it amazing.

I'll give a few examples of where the production paid attention to detail and where it didn't.

Production #1 we saw a few weeks ago. The set was simple and utilitarian. The play was about the end times where the economy was so bad that the players were engaged in a lottery to become applicants for an undefined job that would provide the winner with food, clothing and shelter. The players' street clothes were clean and new, not showing any indication that times were tough. The starved applicants were presented with a continental breakfast upon their arrival at the competition complex and NONE of them raided the food table. One of the three people who visited the food table over the course of the play actually behaved like a starved person living in uncertain times. The other two players shredded the croissants and tossed their bits around like confetti, and the remaining three applicants didn't touch the food at all. For a play about the absolutely destroyed economy and crumbling social structure, the given circumstances that landed these players in this situation were largely absent in the work.

Production #2 we saw last weekend. The show was about a teenage girl dealing with the death of her mother and the downward spiral of her desperate attempts to be loved. The playing space was very utilitarian and lighting was used to show what was real and what was imaginary. The costumes were simple and perfect for the individual characters. The actors played the reality of the situation for blood. What delighted me as an audience member was the set dressing that wasn't necessarily used beyond creating an environment. The show was simple and elegant and had impact because everyone in the production was committed.

Production #3 we also saw this past weekend. This dark comedy was set in Wisconsin and dealt with the unusual circumstances surrounding a missing person. The set looked like an actual home from the proscenium arch covered in siding to the window on stage that had snow falling outside. The actors were fully committed to the reality of the situation. The cabinets and refrigerator were full, they brewed coffee on stage and used the working sink several times. The costumes were spot-on, reminding me of my youth living in Wisconsin. The attention to detail was exquisite.

Whether you have a huge budget or not, you are responsible for the attention to detail in your own part in the production. Show that you care about what you're doing, because that breeds good reviews and future work.

2010-10-27T11:59:00.000-07:00

THE JOY

From Seth Godin:

Traditional corporations, particularly large-scale service and manufacturing businesses, are organized for efficiency. Or consistency. But not joy.

McDonalds, Hertz, Dell and others crank it out. They show up. They lower costs. They use a stopwatch to measure output.

You don't have to be a Fortune 500 company to fall prey to this mindset. "That's how the big guys do it," is a self-prescription for an eventual crash. Particularly in the arts, where remarkable and sensical rarely seem to meet. I'm not saying "Be inefficient!" I'm saying, put the focus on the work and on the audience. NOT on stacking a Board of Directors with "grey hairs" (who couldn't give a shit less about reaching that emotional resonance with an audience that only live theatre can create), or taking roll at workcalls to insure all your dues-paying members are fully indentured to their servitude.

Worse, the nature of the work is inherently un-remarkable. If you fear special requests, if you staff with cogs, if you have to put it all in a manual, then the chances of amazing someone are really quite low.

These organizations have people who will try to patch problems over after the fact, instead of motivated people eager to delight on the spot.

This is a deadly way to go about making theatre. To quote Brook in The Empty Space:

In a living theatre, we would each day approach the rehearsal putting yesterday’s discoveries to the test, ready to believe that the true play has once again escaped us. But the Deadly Theatre approaches the classics from the viewpoint that somewhere, someone has found out and defined how the play should be done.

I would extend that definition of Deadly Theatre to encompass more than just "the classics." Back to Godin:

The alternative, it seems, is to organize for joy. These are the companies that give their people the freedom (and yes, the expectation) that they will create, connect and surprise. These are the organizations that embrace someone who makes a difference, as opposed to searching for a clause in the employee handbook that was violated.

It comes down to your first principles, your philosophical underpinnings. God help me, it comes down to discovering for yourself the relevence of theatre, the whys and wherefores of what you're doing. If you don't have the philosophy right, your actions are meaningless, no matter how efficient or consistent the operation.

You want efficiency and consistency? I give you Chicken McNuggets:

Chew on that.

2010-10-26T14:24:00.000-07:00

[NOTE: This review was originally published at Stage Happenings.]

Liz Fenning as Heather and Alana Dietz as Charlotte.

Everything Will Be Different: A Brief History of Helen of Troy

review by Andrew Moore

Deeply affected by the death of her beautiful mother and unable to connect with a father who is sinking into alcoholic despair, fifteen year-old Charlotte immerses herself in a self-created universe built on her low self-esteem, blossoming sexuality, and deep-seated grief.

It is a compelling universe, authored by playwright Mark Schultz. Notwithstanding emotional flashes that occur here and there, Everything Will Be Different is a slow-burn. The true implications of the given circumstances are not fully realized until after the cathartic climax of the play. In a denouement at once shiveringly creepy and strangely heartwarming, Schultz gives us the tiniest hope that things could work out for this young woman. But he really puts her through Hell on her way to a glimpse of Heaven. (Or at least a glimpse of Purgatory.) In spite of the dark places Charlotte goes, Schultz buoys the tale with a sense of humor. He balances this material brilliantly, never letting it become a burden on the audience, not letting us walk out of the theatre feeling mowed under. It is an elegantly structured and executed piece.

Such demanding material requires a confident hand at the helm, and director John Lawler exercises judicious control over the universe of the play. He does not back down an inch from the more frightful aspects of Charlotte's journey, pushing his actors to deliver an all too real portrayal of rather disturbing actions.

The cast is just as fearless. Christopher Fields delivers a taut performance as Charlotte's emotionally conflicted father, Harry. Wallace Bruce as the sheepish best friend (Franklin) and Bobby Campo as the jock-Adonis (Freddie) imbue their roles with authenticity -- considering where they each go, not an easy task. Threatening to steal the stage every time he steps foot upon it, Bryan T. Donovan nervously and brilliantly dithers around Charlotte's clumsy expressions of sexuality. Liz Fenning is perky and charming with an unnerving streak of darkness as Charlotte's alter-ego, Heather.

Alana Dietz (Charlotte) carries the weight of this universe on her waifish shoulders. A riveting vulnerability flashes through an apathetic teenage facade, and what begins as humorous idiosyncrasy becomes a sad mask hiding an unbearable pain. This transformation is devastating. Everything Will Be Different is a stirring character study of this very specific person and the collaboration of playwright, director and actress makes us care about her.

The design team has done a stellar job. A strikingly consistent color palette and clean lines unify and elevate an otherwise spartan arrangement of playing spaces in Frederica Nascimento's set. Audrey Eisner stays in the same palette with thoughtfully appointed costumes. Jared A. Sayeg frames the action well, giving us subtle indications of fantasy-versus-reality in his lighting plot.

Everything Will Be Different is a challenging piece that darts in and out of the audience's comfort zone, but the moments of discomfort are never gratuitous. Every element aligns in creating a compelling and moving evening. This is tight, engaging theatre. Do not miss this production.

Everything Will Be Different: A Brief History of Helen of Troy is performed Fridays and Saturdays at 8:00 pm and Sundays at 7:00 pm through November 14th, 2010.

The Zephyr Theatre is located at 7456 Melrose Avenue in Los Angeles, west of La Brea Avenue.

Ticket prices: $20 on Fridays and Sundays, $25 on Saturdays. (Check Goldstar for half-priced tickets.)

Reservations online at www.echotheatrecompany.com or by phone at (877) 369-9112.

2010-10-25T11:53:00.000-07:00

First Principles

“All human constitutions are subject to corruption, and must perish, unless they are timely renewed, and reduced to their first principles.”
- Sidney Algernon, Discourses Concerning Government

It is impossible to chart a new course when you find yourself in the bilges, pumping water out of a sinking vessel. Nevermind that a new course might take you away from the rocks you keep bashing into -- we have to keep this ship afloat! In the heat of emergency, attention is fixed on the task at hand. Little victories give you moments of happiness, but these are fleeting. A bit like the momentary relief someone sick with the flu feels when he blows his nose; a moment of clear breathing, and then back into the funk.

Sisyphus should be the Patron Saint of Under-99 theatre. No doubt you remember the myth:

The gods had condemned Sisyphus to ceaselessly rolling a rock to the top of a mountain, whence the stone would fall back of its own weight. They had thought with some reason that there is no more dreadful punishment than futile and hopeless labor.

Locked in the struggle to keep pushing that damned rock up the mountain, we don't take the time to ask ourselves, "Why the fuck are we pushing a rock to the top of this mountain?"

Earlier this year I spent considerable time responding to Steven Leigh Morris' watershed article for the LA Weekly, "Why Theatre Matters." I revisit this article with alarming (to me at least) regularity, and my respect for Morris and the arguments he makes continues to grow. Granted, I still think the man is mostly wrong, but I've come to believe that my rejoinder is perhaps a bit lacking. To wit:

I used to worry about the relevance of theatre -- then I helped start a theatre company.

Sometimes you learn more about the person who criticizes than you do about what they're criticizing. This would be one of those times.

Way back in my college days, my favorite professor tossed me a copy of The Empty Space and said, "If you really care about theatre, read this." I did, and I've been annoying people by quoting it ever since:

There is always a new season in hand and we are too busy to ask the only vital question which measures the whole structure. Why theatre at all? What for? Is it an anachronism, a superannuated oddity, surviving like an old monument or a quaint custom? Why do we applaud, and what? Has the stage a real place in our lives? What function can it have? What could it serve? What could it explore? What are its special properties?

Brook is right. So is Morris:

But the larger point is the divide between the commonly held low regard for theater and its actual relevance — far greater than most are willing to acknowledge. From that chasm emerge the questions of why do theater at all, in these times, and what makes a good producer.

I will tell you this much, from my vantage point of helping start a theatre company and attempting to steer it as president for two and a half years: A good producer does not do the Sisyphus two-step up the side of a mountain. A good producer assesses things before acting, and charts the best course possible. When emergencies (or "opportunities" if you will) arise, a good producer trims the sails, lets them out or drops anchor as the case may be. A good producer doesn't double-down on stupid.

A good producer, like a good anything operates on first principles. Whether they realize it or not, there is a basic philosophy behind the choices being made. I've reviewed enough plays, I can tell when a company is operating from first principles (such as Sacred Fools or The Echo Theatre Company) and when they're not (names omitted pursuant to Thumper's Rule.) You can tell, even when the shinola is so thick you can barely smell the shit beneath.

You can whitewash all you want, it won't take the rot out of the wood. If you want to build something that will last, you need to start with first principles. Now watch me get all Biblical:

²⁴Therefore whosoever heareth these sayings of mine, and doeth them, I will liken him unto a wise man, which built his house upon a rock:

²⁵And the rain descended, and the floods came, and the winds blew, and beat upon that house; and it fell not: for it was founded upon a rock.

²⁶And every one that heareth these sayings of mine, and doeth them not, shall be likened unto a foolish man, which built his house upon the sand:

²⁷And the rain descended, and the floods came, and the winds blew, and beat upon that house; and it fell: and great was the fall of it.
-- Matthew 7:24-27, KJV

Build on first principles. And Christ would know: His nickname was "The Word." Word.

Are you building and rebuilding on sand, or are you actively seeking out a rock to build upon? Are you continually pushing the boulder uphill, or are you turning a shrewd eye towards figuring out how to keep it uphill? Are you pumping out the bilges, or seizing the helm and heading towards safe harbor?

Are you kidding yourself? I know I was.

2010-10-14T10:15:00.000-07:00

I Believe.

[I'm stepping back from where I was going. I'm taking my own advice and getting back to basic fundamentals. I'm grasping the Etch n Sketch firmly with both hands and shaking the Hell out of it. I'm asking, "Why?" What follows is a declaration of principles I wrote earlier this year. This will be my rubric for future theatrical efforts.]

I believe in shoestrings, in raw talent and bruised knuckles.

I believe in not having all the answers, but not letting that get in your way. I believe in opening things up, stripping things down, getting in way over your head and putting it all back together in the end.

I believe in working parts. I believe in functionality and utility, but not at the expense of style, which is just another word for whimsy. I believe that if it isn't beautiful when you're finished, it wasn't the right solution to begin with. I believe in elegance, but I also believe in getting the job done, by hook or by crook.

I believe in leaping before you look, trusting yourself, and reaching for higher ground. I believe in failure, in the power failure holds. I believe in picking yourself up, dusting yourself off, and starting all over again.

I believe in resilience, in the indomitable human spirit, in compassion and self-sacrifice. I believe in tolerance, but I believe in merit. I believe in teaching a man to fish, but giving a man a fish in a pinch. I believe in not being an idiot. I believe in trust but verify.

I believe that the most anyone can ask of you is your best.

I believe nothing gives a person the right to infect your space with their crazy.

I believe in liberty. I believe in the chaos 6.7 billion free individuals could potentially wreak.

I believe in "Soyez réalistes, demandez l'impossible!", in "Do I contradict myself?/Very well, then, I contradict myself;/(I am large—I contain multitudes.)" and in capax universi. I believe its all been done before, but that's no reason not to do it again.

I believe in time-binding, in standing on the shoulders of genius and reaching higher, in reading a good book or at least a trashy paperback.

I believe in taking the time to figure out what you believe, because if you don't, someone is bound to try and do it for you. And I believe that's pretty fucked.

2010-10-12T10:20:00.000-07:00

EARNING A NAME

part three

[The following is part-three of a write-up I presented to the other administrators of Theatre Unleashed back in July. Part one may be found here. Part two may be found here. I have edited it to make it a more general observation, but this last part is necessarily more personal than the previous two parts. I don’t apologize for talking out of school. There are lessons I have learned that I feel I must share with others, lest they make the same mistakes.]

"There is no map. No map to be a leader, no map to be an artist. I've read hundreds of books about art (in all its forms) and how to do it, and not one has a clue about the map, because there isn't one."

-- Seth Godin, Linchpin

REFORMING MEMBERSHIP – STRENGTHENING THE ENSEMBLE

My company went into a more permanent rental arrangement last year, and it almost killed us. It certainly sacrificed our production values (something our landlady warned us would happen, as she attempted to dissuade us from renting from her. We should have listened.) In looking at the financials, it was clear as day: The average amount we spent on our production budgets from month to month in 2008 and the greater part of 2009 equaled the amount we paid in rent each month from late 2009-on.

In December of 2009, we had to run just to keep up. We produced a holiday show—not because we wanted to, but because we HAD to—and still came up short on rent. We threw a last minute “rent party” fundraiser, a humiliating affair that made us less than 10% of what we needed. Bad times. Once 2010 started, and we had shows in the hopper once more, we were able to catch-up the back rent and extricate ourselves from the rental. Whew. That was a close one.

One thing that the rental experience revealed to me is just how dependant my company is on membership dues. Missing even a fraction of the dues owed each month is a huge issue! But the dues situation is only half of the problem.

Recently, our attention has been focused on member involvement. We have approached the problem with the old "carrot and stick" approach, which in all honesty has been more stick than carrot. We've made emotional appeals to our members to be more actively involved in the company, and yet something as simple as a front of house sign-up sheet goes mostly empty. Work calls are sparsely attended. Committees rarely meet.

I argue that being a dues-paying company creates the exact sort of situation that we are faced with: A lack of enthusiastic member involvement, compromised production standards, and membership attrition.

Let's take a look at the fundamental illogic of a dues-paying company:

It troubles me that a non-member will often make out far better than a dues-paying member. For instance, if we cast a 4-A non-member in a production, that cast member will make approximately $84 in stipends. He or she will not be required to attend work calls, work FOH on any other productions, fundraise, etc (in accordance with the Under-99 Seat Plan.) And of course, that cast member will not be required to pay $40 a month.

A member pays $40 a month, has to be a member of a committee, has to attend work calls, etc. If they hit a financial hardship or are otherwise unable to devote an appropriate amount of time to the company, they go on LOA and pay “pulse payments” to keep their membership active. While on LOA, they are not allowed to participate. If cast in a show, unless they are in one of the 4-A unions, they work for free.

Consider the psychology of the situation: I’m an actor paying $40 a month. In this economy—for an actor especially—that’s not a casual investment. That’s close to $500 a year for the privilege of mandatory work. How likely is it that your average company member will find some scheduling conflict with a work call? How likely is it that they’ll make up an audition or a gig that must tear them away after a couple of hours? How likely is it they just won’t show up at all, trusting that the administrative staff is too busy keeping the show on the road to notice?

And why is the administrative staff running around madly? To provide a continuity of opportunities for our members to practice their craft. We are all too aware of the dues commitment; we pay them ourselves. The balm for the mandatory work is opportunity to perform. In 2009, my company produced eleven Core productions and ten Chaos productions (as defined in part two of this series.) Twenty-one unique and separate productions over a fifty-two week period. Believe me when I say we became slaves to the process.

My research into the way similar sized companies produce theatre in New York took me to the Off-Off Broadway Community Dish, “A Community of Independent Theatre Companies.” I conducted an informal survey of the companies linked to The Dish website, and was hard-pressed to locate any Off-Off-Broadway companies that are dues-paying.

I emailed the President of The Dish, who also happens to be the Artistic Director of Boomerang Theatre Company, a small OOB company that produces new works and Shakespeare (not too unlike my own company.) I asked Tim, “Are you aware of any OOB companies that are dues-paying?” His response:

Here in NYC, most companies that I know of are NOT dues based. Most have initial grassroots fundraising (bar nights, single evening One Act nights) to make enough to get things going, then attempt to roll over ticket sales from one show (however meager) into capital for the next production. Along with ticket sales, any number of fundraising ideas get thrown in to cover costs (bowling nights, karaoke nights, scavenger hunts, silent auctions, etc).

In terms of the “pay to play” model, it almost doesn’t exist. If it does, it often tells the actor that they are not dealing with a professional organization, but something slightly below that. Many people who start companies in NYC either come directly from school, or also work in other non-profit orgs at first to cut their teeth (mine was working for Lincoln Center Theater), so often people see how professional orgs are run and try to mirror those models. As such, the dues model is not widely used here.

I turned my focus back to Los Angeles. Is this a unique situation to our coast? Are our actors so used to paying out the nose for headshots, casting director workshops and acting classes that pay-for-play theatre actually makes sense to them? I was a bit surprised. Yes, dues-paying is common, just not among the companies who consistently do critically-acclaimed and popular work. The Founder and Artistic Director of Son of Semele, Matthew McCray:

“We have always relied heavily on the participation of our members and worked to created systems that encourage equal participation. It is never perfectly equal, but we never list people as members unless they have earned the title. We have always encouraged quality over quantity where artists are concerned.

“Though we began as a dues-paying ensemble, we cut dues out of our budget entirely. We could have kept requiring our artists to pay monthly fees, but we felt it was philosophically wrong.ⁱ

From the Managing Director of City Garage in Santa Monica, Charles A. Duncombe:

“We began to face the fact that while we were a dues-paying company, we would be constantly limited to actors who were willing to pay to belong,” explains Duncombe. “We had to force a change.”ⁱⁱ

If a theatre company cannot fund itself with fundraising and box office receipts alone, perhaps it doesn’t deserve to exist. If a theatre company cannot bring in donations and audience members, something is very wrong. The I.V. drip of monthly dues will serve to keep the body alive, but the soul is fleeting. It is bad for the members, it is bad for the administrators, it is ultimately bad for the audience (how burned-out do you suppose our audience got after we promoted twenty-one events to them over the course of a year?)

I understand why my company started out as dues-paying. We needed some scratch. We had nothing, not so much as two cents to rub together when we started. It was a quick fix that became a permanent feature. Further, we were operating out of a playbook we knew: The founding members broke off from a dues-paying company. For that matter, we're all college educated and used to paying much more than $40 a month for the opportunity to make theatre. There was an understanding that it was a temporary fix, but any discussion of when to eliminate the dues requirement is pushed off, always swept from the agenda, tabled for another day. Meanwhile, the drudgery continues, members wise-up and leave at a steady pace, and we are no closer to some imagined financial security that will enable us to someday drop the dues requirement.

One argument is “Once we start receiving grants …” but this is nonsense. Success attracts success. If a company is not doing the kind of work that allows them to support themselves on fundraising and box office receipts, they are not doing the kind of work that attracts grant money. There are more theatre companies than there is grant money, and the grantors need some basis for evaluation.

A “Pay What You Can” model for dues would help in the transition away from being a dues-paying company and into the production model outlined in part two of this write-up. New companies would be smart to avoid the pitfall altogether, and commit to raising money on a show-by-show basis, and committing themselves to bringing to the public the best possible work they can. Administrators would be wise to focus on the process of bringing theatre to the public, rather than perpetually trying to keep as many plates spinning as possible. They are heading for a crash.

A GREATER PURPOSE, A BIGGER GAME

Blame it on the ephemeral nature of theatre, but it often feels as if we are trying to scale the eroding walls of a hole we dug ourselves into. Perhaps not in the moment. Perhaps not when we are in the act of creating. If the experience of making a theatre company work were only those moments … well. I wouldn’t have felt compelled to write this.

I don't have all the answers. No one does. That affords us an amazing amount of freedom. Just as we approach the blank stage afresh at the beginning of each production, so too can we approach the organization and administration of a struggling Under-99 company. There is no reason to prop up and perpetuate the activities and attitudes that we have inherited from companies we left. We're small. We're spry. We have the option of opening our hearts and minds, and proceding full-bore in a bold direction. We are theatre artists, after all. Go big or go home.

Put our company members through a crucible: Do they really want to be an active part of the company? Make it necessary for our artistic teams to forge their vision for a play well in advance of the execution. Invest our audience in the season well before the first postcards are printed.

We can assume a greater purpose for what we do, a bigger game to play.

No one is going to give us permission to be awesome. We must be willing to trust ourselves.
-----------------------------

ⁱ Ashley Steed, “Son of Semele,” LA Theatre Review, 3/6/10, Web.
ⁱⁱStephen Leigh Morris, “Company Town: How a big city became America’s small-theater mecca,” LA Weekly, 4/22/04, Web.

2010-10-11T12:54:00.000-07:00

EARNING A NAME
part 2a

in re: PERSPECTIVE

Many moons ago, back in Hot Springs, Arkansas, I played John Proctor in a production of The Crucible for a fledgling theatre company. I met my future wife in that production (she was a deliciously tempting Abagail Williams) and I got my first real taste of the do-or-die attitude one MUST have when staging a show. We lost a couple of cast-members on the eve of the production, and were forced to double up at the last minute. You see, the mother of two of our cast-members (who was also in our production) could no longer deal with the pressures of scheduled rehearsal times. She needed to pull herself and her daughters out of rehearsals in the week leading up to opening for ... I don't recall. But I'll never forget her yelling at our director:

"It's amateur theatre!"

This was her entire justification for skipping rehearsals and ultimately removing herself and her daughters from our production.

Let's take a look at that word, "amateur" (from Merriam-Webster):

am·a·teur noun 1: devotee, admirer; 2: one who engages in a pursuit, study, science, or sport as a pastime rather than as a profession; 3: one lacking in experience and competence in an art or science

Harsh, especially number three. The definition is ameliorated a bit by the derivation:

French, from Latin amator lover, from amare to love

That's a little better. Indeed, we had quite a bit of love for the undertaking, which is why some cast members doubled up on roles the night before, and why the director pulled a bonnet down over his head and played Betty Parris himself for the run of the show. That's love.

When Lorne Michaels put together the original cast and writers for Saturday Night Live, he went looking for "enlightened amateurs." Comedy was too important to leave to professionals; he wanted scrappy non-conformists who wouldn't be cowed by an attitude of "That's The Way We Always Do It." There is an incredible freedom at hand when you do something for love, rather than career advancement. And in a spooky sort of way best appreciated by the likes of Wayne Dyer, focusing on the "love" actually delivers up the career advancement. Perhaps the path isn't a straight line, but straight lines are boring and ungodly (hat tip to Friedensreich Hundertwasser).

There is one other advantage to being an amateur: Not knowing all the answers. I almost feel that should be in scare quotes, because the danger is the assumption of being right rather than actually being right.

I guess I come off as a pretty confident guy. I write with seeming authority and no amount of qualifiers seem to convey that most of the time, I'm just making my best guess. Sure, my guesses are based on research, much thought, and conversations with others who have unique viewpoints. I play the Devil's advocate to myself and I'm paranoid over making a priori conclusions and feeding my confirmation bias. But I'm still guessing.

There's a great quote from Robert A. Heinlein on this subject:

"The hardest part about gaining any new idea is sweeping out the false idea occupying that niche. As long as that niche is occupied, evidence and proof and logical demonstration get nowhere. But once the niche is emptied of the wrong idea that has been filling it — once you can honestly say, 'I don't know', then it becomes possible to get at the truth."
-- Robert A. Heinlein, The Cat Who Walks Through Walls

I think the default position for amateurs is "I don't know." Further, "I don't know, and I want to find out."

To be fair, let's look at the other side of the verbal coin, the word "professional" (also from Merriam-Websters):

pro·fes·sion·al adj 1a : of, relating to, or characteristic of a profession b : engaged in one of the learned professions c (1) : characterized by or conforming to the technical or ethical standards of a profession (2) : exhibiting a courteous, conscientious, and generally businesslike manner in the workplace; 2a : participating for gain or livelihood in an activity or field of endeavor often engaged in by amateurs b : having a particular profession as a permanent career c : engaged in by persons receiving financial return ; 3: following a line of conduct as though it were a profession

In the arts I believe that one should express an amateur spirit and a professional attitude. Keep your heart and mind open, but keep your feet firmly on the ground. Put succinctly:

soyez realistes - demandez l'impossible

"Be realstic, demand the impossible." Be the enlightened amateur.

2010-10-07T20:55:00.000-07:00

The Position, produced by PianoFight at Asylum Lab

review by Andrew Moore

I went into PianoFight LA's production of The Position with the highest hopes. Those hopes were deflated, but what went wrong may be fixed.

Six candidates vie for a job in a dystopian, jobless future. With equal parts Big Brother and The Prisoner, Playwright William Blivins has composed an intriguing, cat and mouse game where it's never really clear who's the cat and who's the mouse. The Candidates are given Greek letters in place of their names, and are given over to their own devices in a lawless environment where practically anything goes -- and everything is being recorded.

First, the good:

The set design (uncredited) is simple and effective. Black walls with Jackson Pollack-esque spatter paintings surround a neutral space with spare furniture. Long banners carrying Orwellian slogans hang from the high ceiling of Asylum Lab, a pleasant use of vertical space and a constant reminder of the reality the characters live in. The lighting (Kristen Hammack) is effective; realistically framing a cold and clinical room yet shifting into a more expressionistic mode as necessary. Takashi Morimoto attires the cast with appropriate utility.

Sofie Calderon is a delight, instantly believable as the outgoing, amiable Zeta. Jeremy Mascia brings a very realistic charm to Delta, walking the line between reality TV show parody and a hopeless Tomorrowland. Akemi Okamura brings heart and hurt to a very lonely yet ambitious Gamma. Perhaps the most difficult role in the piece belongs to Eric Delgado, as the inhuman Baylian, a subservient servant eager and willing to please. What could have become a Twilight Zone-style cardboard cutout is given uncomfortable dimension by Delgado. If his level of commitment had set the bar for the rest of the production, I would not have to progress to ...

The not so good:

The play never really lives up to its potential.

I don't believe these people want the position. We are told, through vignettes and dialogue at the top of the show and through the promotional material that this play is set in a dystopian future. "The Great Down Turn" has plunged us into mass unemployment and destitution. Only The Concern can possibly save us, and they are only offering one job that hundreds of thousands of people applied for. Where's the hunger? The ambition? The desperation? The recruits don't behave like a group of people who have to scavenge for sustenance. Entering a room with food on a nearby table, they hang back, seemingly not interested in something that should be dear to them. Without a sense of urgency, there is no sense of danger and no sense of risk.

The problems with the play are embodied in a single prop: The knife that one character pulls on another early in the show is the same generic breakaway knife that joke shops have sold since who knows when. It is instantly identifiable as a fake; a dull-edged, plastic toy that couldn't possibly hurt anyone. We in the dark are willing to suspend our disbelief and go on this journey, but the folks taking us for the ride need to meet us halfway.

(The one exception to this curious lack of specificity may be found in Mascia's Delta, who stuffs rolls and fruit in his pockets at a couple of points in the play. This is a fantastic specific; the show needs more moments like this.)

It also doesn't help that every ten minutes or so, someone in the audience popped open a can of beer or soda. It doesn't help that late arrivals weren't held in the lobby until the first black out. When you are staging a thriller, you must maintain a thread of tension between the action onstage and the watchers in the dark. Lose your audience, and you are sunk. Any extraneous distraction must be eliminated -- for god's sake, tell your audience to open their cans before the show starts!

The net result of all this is a laughable climax, lacking the dramatic punch it should have. I can see the effect they were going for and I am truly sad they didn't hit it. I don't doubt the sincerity and passion of the folks involved in PianoFight LA. I believe they have great potential to make their mark on Los Angeles theatre landscape, but their ambition needs to be tendered with specificity. If they focus on those details, making every choice count, there's no limit to what they will be able to do.

The Position is performed Thursdays through Saturdays at 8:00 pm, through October 9th.

Asylum Lab is located at 1078 Lillian Way in Hollywood, California. Street parking is available on the side streets behind the theatre.

Tickets are $20 at the door or online at www.applyfortheposition.com