Check the Fine Print

When selecting a play for production, my favorite elements to look for are often the little nuances that can be observed when poring over scripts.  Many times, these nuances explain a lot about the playwright’s intent regarding the suggested atmosphere with respect to genre and the overall scope of the play.  For this column, I offer some observances from reading one of the non-musical plays that will be produced by the Civic Theatre Guild this spring.  I’m directing the other non-musical, but I’ll have a couple more entries before production in which I will plan to discuss that play (I can’t wait to share that play with you, by the way).

The play I’ll discuss in this entry is John Patrick Shanley’s “Outside Mullingar,” a romantic comedy set just outside a rural town in Ireland.  Two farmers, a man and a woman that occupy neighboring farmsteads with their respective parents, have been silently feuding since they were children, even though they’ve maintained a guise that is amicable enough.  I’ve met with director Gene Davis several times over the past few months to discuss the logistics of staging the play, which is somewhat difficult as the play has six separate locations over its duration.  Gene has been able to come up some fairly ingenious solutions, despite the limitations of a 18’x15’ stage.

However, as I recall the script beyond the demands of the locations, one particular element keeps resurfacing.  I’m sure we’ve all read the timeline of a play in the playbill during our attendance.  For example, “Scene One: an afternoon in October,” “Scene Two: later that evening.”  These seem pretty familiar.  In “Outside Mullingar,” the first three scenes of the play take place within the same evening.  Then, the next scene takes place nearly a year later.  This is all pretty conventional; we’ve all been able to suspend our disbelief this far before.  But, as I recall, the next scene takes place several years later, with barely any mention of any contact between the characters in that time.  The characters have not left the location in this time, and the ensuing scenes are not an epilogue, which often happens with the usage of such time in plays.  Rather, they are a continuation of the ongoing story.  So, going into the production, knowing that the play will be a romantic comedy, as an audience member, you may get a deeper appreciation of the nuance that the playwright means to project.  These two clueless lovers have been dancing around the issue put forth onstage for nearly a decade, while only being a stone’s throw away from each other.  Sometimes, it’s easy to assume that, when the lights go out in one scene, and then come up in the next that only a short amount of time has passed.  But, in Shanley’s piece, he deliberately separates these two scenes and two characters by an ocean of time.

I’m reminded of a movie I once saw that was narrated by extensive voiceover in which a man was in prison, and received a letter from someone on the outside once a week.  Then, the letters stopped coming, and he became terrified about the safety of the sender.  Then, the screen went dark, and the voiceover gravely said, “Eight years pass,” and after a brief pause, the story continues.  So, the viewer has to inject the weight of the circumstances (prison and worry), multiplied by the passage of time, all within a matter of seconds.  This is no different in “Mullingar.”  While the play does offer a fair amount of dark comedy and romantic musings, it’s easy to forget that, upon leaving the theater, the audience has shared the most significant events of these characters’ lives over a decade, all in under two hours’ time.

These little details, written in just a few words in the script, help the actors ground their performances, thinking of small things like, “How would I behave under these circumstances?  Who was I as a person eight years ago?  What has changed about me?  How do I believe I would change over so many years if I was this character in these circumstances?”  Analyzing these minutiae are not just trivialities.  Sometimes, they give us all we need to know about these characters.  In this instance, Shanley seems to be suggesting that these feuding “lovers” possess their own fair shares of cowardice or pride or stubbornness, or perhaps all or none of those.  But, for the audience member, that little bit of perspective in just a few words - “Eight years pass” - give us an indelible perspective of the actions onstage.

“Outside Mullingar” will be performed at the Carriage House Theater January 22nd, 23rd, 24th & January 29th, 30th, 31st & February 4th, 5th, 6th.

And, I’ll be having auditions for “Yankee Tavern” January 25, 26, and 27th at the Carriage House.  I’ll need 3 men and 1 woman.  Google it - it’s a grabber.

I’ll see you at intermission.

Fall 2015: offerings of nostalgia

If you’ve read my column in years past, I would hope that you could at least surmise that I enjoy following trends in the fields of theatre, film, and television.  While trends develop based on circumstances that seem to affect the national movements of these fields, we too in Sheridan have seemed to developed our own microcosmic trend of designating November as a theatre-heavy month.  On an even more remarkable level, it would seem that all three of the major productions that I’m aware of convey a common theme - on both obvious and subtle levels - of nostalgia for times past; more specifically, how they might actually give reason to reflect on our present and future.

As of this printing, two productions are already underway.  The Civic Theatre Guild is presenting the final four performances of the Norman Barasch comedy, “Standing By.” Tackling the very sensitive issue of finding love in the midst of a cancer diagnosis, Barasch injects just the right amount of humor to keep the play relatively upbeat and not without a sense of hope.  As for nostalgia, the play was written by a man that made his living writing for sitcoms in the Golden Age of network television.  Having written for sitcoms like “Rhoda,” Barasch seems to channel himself into the male lead in this play, who himself is almost something of a relic, but nonetheless a major player in the cultural evolution of the art.  It might do you well to take note of the references he makes, and consider how those might be used in this new era of cable and on-demand television viewing, in which the major network are almost no longer major.  “Standing By” plays at the Carriage House Theater tonight, Friday, and Saturday at 7:30p, and this Sunday at 2:00p.

Speaking of relics (in a complimentary tone, I assure you), newly anointed Sheridan High School Drama Club Director Erin Kranz will be stepping off the stage and settling into the director’s chair for her SHS debut with an old standby: Thornton Wilder’s “Our Town.”  Laden with educational value, “Our Town” is a wistful doting upon a small New England town and its history from 1901 to 1913.  The play generally focuses on the lives and intertwining of two of the town’s flagship families, but offers enough perspective on the many quirky fringe characters of the establishment, and more specifically how their actions affected the future of the community … or not.  It’s hard to NOT draw parallels between this fictional town and Sheridan, as at that time, both communities were in their youth, and just on the cusp of figuring out what they may become.  As a point of reference, the construction of Kendrick Mansion ended in 1913.  I would almost recommend that, as you attend, you replace all mentions of the town’s name, “Grover’s Corners” with that of our own.  I have a feeling the histories of the two communities - albeit that one is fictional - would have a similar chain of events.  “Our Town” plays at the Sue Henry Theater for the Performing Arts at SHS tonight, Friday, and Saturday at 7:00p, with a matinee this Sunday at 2:00p.

Finally, Sheridan College Theatre Dept. invites us to the Mars Theater in the WYO for their production of the bedroom farce “Boeing Boeing.”  In some regards, the play is a commentary on how evolving technology vastly affected the general concept of time, and some other themes evolve as well.  Set in Paris in the 1960s, this production sees a swinging bachelor who is “engaged” to three separate stewardesses, and is able to maintain this ruse, as long as their schedules stay the same, and only one is in Paris at any given time.  Enter the new faster Boeing jet that was introduced in the 60s, which vastly altered flight schedules to accommodate more travel.  In this particular play, all three of these stewardesses end up being in the same place at the same time, effectively sprinkling the appropriate amount of chaos to the protagonist’s Bunburying (google it, that’s your treat).  Much of the marketing is suggesting that this production evokes the stylistic qualities of “Mad Men.” I can only hope that, like that show, attention is paid to scrutinizing the patriarchal pot belly that often hung over the belt loops of that time. “Boeing Boeing” will be produced next weekend, Thursday, Friday, and Saturday, November 19, 20, and 21 at 7:30p, with a matinee on Saturday the 19th at 2:00p.

I’m hoping to attend all of these, and if you see me, I love me a good chat about the stage.  I’ll see you at intermission!

"You can't always get what you want...": An offer to be critical

Recently, as I scroll through my Facebook and Twitter feeds, I’ve been reading a lot about the New York Gilbert and Sullivan Players cancelling a production of “The Mikado” amidst a considerable amount of protest from the Asian-American theatrical community (and the Asian-American community in general, for that matter).  The protest suggested that the comic opera - which first opened in 1885 and has delighted audiences for decades - is a relic from a time long since gone, in which racial insensitivities could be overlooked for an evening’s entertainment.  This is the second time in two years - and second major city - in which a large scale  production of this play has been cancelled due to public outcry.  I’ve always been one to appreciate the ability of theater to promote a level of introspection and challenge regarding the current “norms” in any community, and I often wonder about the challenges that could be addressed in our community.

This recent production of “The Mikado,” which was reportedly given heavy scrutiny by a special subcommittee of the company’s board of directors, claimed that the all-caucasian cast would be respectfully paying homage to the culture by not allowing the actors to perform in yellow-tinged makeup.  The protesters describe this practice with the derogatory term “Yellowface.”  Frankly, this was the match to the kindling of the argument, but the question remained: by removing the “yellowface,” does that make the play any less irrelevant or insensitive in our time?  The bloggers and op-ed columnists in New York are having a field day with this; they haven’t come up with a definitive answer, by the way.  As a result, the New York Gilbert & Sullivan Players have canceled the upcoming production, and replaced it with another from the Victorian duo’s repertoire.

Needless to say, when placed in the context of the Sheridan community, we would probably be faced with similar problems.  The easy answer to a problem such as this is simply to pick another play to begin with; one that wouldn’t raise as much furor.  But, if our theater isn’t challenging the community - even slightly - is it really doing its job in the community?

Certainly, I’m not suggesting that all theater needs to be provocative in order to be effective or “good” theater.  But, a play challenging an audience doesn’t necessarily mean it’s unworthy of being performed.  I’ve talked with a lot of theater artists in town, and the general feel is a hope for something new.  Many are looking at plays that have been performed within the past few years, and while they surely have been crowd-pleasing and well-done, they have been noticing that there is a vast library of plays that could be crowd-pleasing, and could also present an audience with the healthy challenge of being momentarily uncomfortable.

It’s always been an opinion of mine that routine often breeds complacency.  Even at my most complacent, I’ve always wondered if something could be missing.  Without the frequent questioning of whether or not the best is what we’ve got, we might be settling for what’s not as great.  Call me a skeptic if you must, but this may be a question of wants vs. needs: are we getting what we want out of theater, or are we getting what we need?

To be honest with you, I don’t know the answer to that question, and I would hate to sound too pretentious by hazarding an endorsement.  What I do know is that you, the Sheridan audience, have always been open to new experiences on the stage, and I hope you’re up for more.  Again, it’s good to be challenged, as this can often lead to healthy discussions about the community and the art.  And, as theatre artists, it’s upon us to consistently consider: if we’re going to give our audience a challenge, what exactly are we challenging?

I’ll see you at intermission!

"The Millenials are Coming, The Millenials are Coming!"

Recently, I participated in a debate (less of a debate, more of a discussion) on the meaning of the title of one of my favorite movies of recent years.  The film adaptation of Cormac McCarthy’s “No Country for Old Men,” while being quite violent, still gives armchair philosophers a lot to chew on with such a clever title.  In my estimation, McCarthy - whose title is not original, but comes from a Yeats poem - affixes such a title to reflect upon the passage of the torch from one generation to the next; the torch of progress, of fighting and/or creating the future.  Presently, this is on my mind as I look toward the future of the theatrical arts in Sheridan, as the torch seems to be passing: the millennials are now gathering momentum.

I feel I’d be betraying many of you by not offering some disclaimers with that last statement.  Mainly, I do not mean to suggest that millennials are the only generation currently working in the local theatre scene.  Far from it.  Theatre is a melting pot with a reputation that almost rivals that of the United States in general.  All from every facet of our community are welcome to the table, and many facets of the community are already represented there.  In addition, I do not mean to suggest that millennials should be the only generation working in the theatre arts in Sheridan.  Again, far from it.  Very much unlike “No Country,” in which the future is decided by a fresher generation without reverence to the generation(s) before it, the theatre in Sheridan could not survive without the passionate work of the past and present.

I do, however, mean to suggest that the millennial generation, by my observation, comprises a majority of the local theatrical scene, and their brains are already storming.  For example, let’s examine the current status of the Civic Theatre Guild.  The composition of the board of directors is mainly under 45, the current president is under 30.  These are some folks with a serious passion for the continuation of this art, and the composition of the season reflects not only their passion, but also the priority of integrating the millennial generation into the Sheridan theatrical scene.

The first play of the season, “Standing By” by Norman Barasch, will be directed by CTG veteran Anne Quick, but features a cast of two young lovers (on and off the stage): Pat Suchor and Melissa Brackley.  Kim Detmer will be directing a “Seuss-ified” Christmas Carol; she’ll be the first of three millennials in the director’s chair this season.  Annual staple Gene Davis will be directing the recent Tony-nominated play “Outside Mullingar,” which will feature a cast of four: two parts for members of the silent generation and/or baby boomers, and two millennials.  Justin Stroup will stage the Mel Brooks musical comedy “The Producers” for the co-production with the WYO (which will surely feature many young men and women).  And, yours truly will be directing Steven Dietz’ critically-acclaimed “Yankee Tavern,” featuring an evenly balanced cast of millennials and baby boomers.

In the long run, I would hope that my point is not just to lay out how generations are coming together to make sure the health of Sheridan theatre remains vibrant.  But, rather, this is more of a call to my fellow millennials and beyond: theatre is not just for a certain demographic, but rather has something for all of us.  I would hope that, if nothing more, I’ve shown you that we as millennials are working to create a stage presence that includes you, if nothing more than requesting you to buy a ticket.  There is a place for you, and while many of you have found your way here, there’s still plenty of room.

And, if nothing else, I hope I’ve at least given you all some food for thought.  I’ve got plenty left - don’t worry!  Come see our plays - more information can be obtained at www.sheridanstage.com.

I’ll see you at intermission!

A culture of Nerds

Last week, when I served as the Chief of the Specialty Makeup Crew for Tandem Productions’ “Shrek, the Musical, Jr.” my crew partner and I often found ourselves racing from the makeup room to the stage wings once we heard the music for the song, “Let Your Freak Flag Fly;” this was our cue to prepare for a quick change in the wings.  On one of the nights that I wasn’t hurrying to the stage, I was able to stop and truly take in the song, a song that champions the inherent differences in people, promoting the individual’s right to be individual.  While the original intent of the song had a much more significant message, I couldn’t help but to think of a recurrent phenomenon I’ve been observing as of late:  We are a culture of nerds, and our freak flags are flying.

I certainly don’t mean to suggest that anyone should consider her/himself inferior to the “norm.” What I mean to suggest is that our culture has become more diversified, and superficially, that all manner of specific tastes are respected.  I see this more often in movies and music, where some fairly enthralling work is happening, albeit catering very much to specific tastes, which does seem to have some spillover into popular cultural vernacular.

But, I don’t feel as though I’m observing this general spillover on the stage, at least not as often as in the aforementioned media.  In the metacritical absurdist play “Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead,” playwright Tom Stoppard has the head of a theatre troupe quip, “Audiences know what to expect, and that is all that they are prepared to believe in.”  I hate to speak for many of us, but I would suggest that many theatregoers buy a ticket for a play with an anticipated outcome in mind, generally one of utter enjoyment (as defined by the individual), as opposed to surprise or acceptance of the unexpected.  As much as I would like to say that audiences are always adventurous with their entertainment dollars, not everyone will attend everything, particularly on the stage.

To be perfectly blunt, many don’t have the expendable income to get spend money on plays they don’t intend to enjoy.  Often, it would seem that certain demographics only go to shows that they not just expect to enjoy, but rather have some preternatural ability to “know” they will enjoy the production.  In some cases, audience members will have set their own expectations of a production so high that they will either love it - regardless of the quality of the production - or they will abjectly despise it, as it didn’t meet their inflated expectations.

To be even more perfectly blunt, I would suggest that this observation is something of a cry to both theatre artist and audience member simultaneously.  I recently read an article written by a contemporary playwright.  She suggested that modern playwriting academics should cater more to the “zombie” generation, translated as the younger generation(s).  She went on to suggest that solely revering the classics stifled progress in new work.  While I understood the intent, it feels very indicative of the type of cultural swing I feel happening: pandering to one demographic, and leaving out the others.  I would rebut that the classics do have their place, and everyone can learn something from the classics.  But, I would suggest that neither new nor classic should reign supreme on anyone’s stage.  No demographic should be left out.  Thus, it’s our job as theatre artists to “reach across the aisle” (as it were), and build bridges between the generations, or figure out ways to include all of them. Perhaps not in any singular production, but we should be able to cater to as many tastes as we can.

And, for the audience members, I know we all have our specific tastes, but we only learned to appreciate these specific tastes after a first taste of something new.  Honestly, who would have thought that Iron Man would replace Spider-Man as the iconic Marvel super-hero.  But, he did.  Only because we got a little taste, and allowed that taste to grow.  I guarantee you, this phenomenon is just waiting to explode onstage.  Look at the last three years of Tony winners for musicals: two of them championed people waving their “freak flags.”

So, in summary, tastes are not general anymore.  There is no one show that pleases everyone (well, maybe “Chicago”...).  And, we should all feel comfortable waving our “freak flags.”  But, on the stage, I for one, would like to see this diversity be more expansive.  And, I would challenge audience members to try out new things once in a while.  I’ve often lauded the Sheridan audience for being adventurous, so I would mainly urge you to continue to do so.  But, let’s not lose respect for the classics at the same time.  All are worth their moment in the spotlight.  The flags are waving!  We’ve just got to take the time to notice them.

I’ll see you at intermission!

Considering the Essence of Theatre

“It’s easier to destroy than to create.”

Not sure I agree with that sentiment too much, but it certainly does give one cause to stop and ponder.  As I’ve been struggling with what I should write about for this installment, this dystopian statement keeps surfacing for some reason. From a theatre artist’s perspective, a statement like this would seem obviously antithetical to what we do as theatre artists.  But, sometimes, a little destruction - or perhaps DECONstruction - can be just as valuable as creation.

As we look ahead to the new year, it always seems appropriate to wax optimistic and endow the upcoming year with unlimited potential.  An associate of mine reminded me the other day that right now, there are five shows currently in production/rehearsal.  One of these is “Vanya & Sonia & Masha & Spike,” which is currently running at the Carriage House (and yes, you should definitely see it!)  However, I’d like to think that the readers of this column are fairly well-versed in the upcoming performance calendar, so I will continue to to pay homage to my very polarized muse.

As I begin my final semester in my Master’s program, I’m reading many of the foundational pieces of literature that have become the sets of guidelines for practicing theatre across the globe.  While each author certainly approaches the art from a different cultural perspective, virtually all of them agree that theatre is generally created to impart a strong basis for morality into its audience.

Truth be told, this is the opinion I’ve maintained for quite some time.  Only recently - and by recently, I mean within the last few years - I’ve allowed that opinion to alter somewhat, or perhaps evolve.  I would like to say that, in this stage of my understanding of theatre, I believe that this art is mainly a laboratory in which civilization learns what it means to be human, warts and all.

Of all the performing arts, Aristotle suggested that theatre was the most imitative.  Further suggesting that all performing arts imitate “reality,” he proposed that theatre can be more visceral as it is more representative of life as we observe it, more so than say music or dance.  However, based on reading many of these prototypical works, it would seem that their authors also anticipated a universal response to the observed work of art.  These authors structure their forensic analyses of theatre in such a way, that their suggested codified application of theatre as an art, as well as its expected outcomes, are nothing but irrefutably logical.  But, if there’s anything I’ve learned about theatre, it’s that it often has the potential to defy all logic.

As an ongoing discussion for the class I’m currently teaching at the college, I ask my students to consider the concept of audience perspective, more specifically audience reaction. In my many years on the stage, I’ve often been fascinated by the idea that a group of entirely diverse people can watch a play and have the same response; whereas a group of like-minded people from very similar cultural backgrounds can watch a play, and have as many different opinions as there are people in the group.  Regardless of the theatre artist’s intended purpose, it’s inevitable that someone (or many) just plain won’t agree with what’s being presented.  Moreover, as we delve deeper into the age of social media, it’s become starkly apparent how easy negative reactions can be expressed, especially when the critic belches these unfortunate opinions while hiding behind an avatar.

But, in the long run, this is why I feel we do theatre, not just to elicit the responses we’d want, but rather just to elicit responses.  I’ve often referred to theatre as a gymnasium for empathy: we go to the theatre to give those “muscles” a good workout.  Sometimes, the best workout is one that is not expected.  And, regardless of the reaction, if a reaction is provoked, the theatre artist has done her/his job well.  The word “theatre” comes from the ancient Greek word “theatron,” loosely translated as, “a place to see/watch.”  I’ve eluded to this idea many times in my column, but I’ll bring it up again: many of us do what we do on the stage for you, the audience, to see or watch a specific concept illustrated by the playwright.  It is a communication style that is designed to allow an audience to observe the many peculiar behaviors and reactions that motivate humanity, and allow an appropriate avenue for reaction.  Be that reaction positive or negative, the reaction is genuine, and possibly more valuable to the individual audience member’s perspective than initially realized.

So, I encourage you to keep watching, but moreover I challenge you to begin or continue to engage in what is being presented.  It’s not wasted breath, I promise you.  If you end up not having the reaction that the theatre artist intended, that is the catalyst of conversation; and thus, the laboratory experiment has been complete, perhaps inspiring new experiments.

I’ll see you at intermission!

Further "Lughnasa" Musings

I sit to write these words less than one month from presenting to you my next directorial effort, “Dancing at Lughnasa” with the Sheridan College Theater Department.  In my previous directing efforts, I usually refer to this as the downhill slide.  Not so much for the ease with which the last four weeks of rehearsal comes (quite the opposite, really), but more as a metaphor of the inevitability of the looming performance.  So many wheels have been set in motion that it’s far too late to turn back now.  Each cog in this machine works with fervor that gains impetus daily, all bent on bringing you, the Sheridan public, an unforgettable show.  So, here we are: the downhill slide.  Honestly, I prefer that metaphor over “the point of no return.”

With this installment, I mean to proffer a list of expectations that I have for you regarding this production.  These are not unreasonable by any means.  In fact, it might just give you a greater appreciation for a show that may be more familiar that you might realize.  

First of all, pronunciation.  The word “Lughnasa,” is specified by playwright Brian Friel to be pronounced, “LOO-nuh-suh,” named so after the ancient Celtic god of the harvest, Lugh.  So please, do not mispronounce it as “lasagna” or “linguini” or “lunacy,” despite your inclinations otherwise.  The play is named such as a nod to Irish cultural identity, as well as an examination of late summer, and its significance in the calendar.  If nothing else, you can at least now practice saying “Lughnasa,” so that when bringing it up in discussion (or buying tickets), you can impress your friends and family.

Next expectation: this play will be presented in the Mars Theater “in the round,” meaning that the audience will be seated entirely around the action onstage.  One of the best uses of a black box theatre is the exploration of how the audience will receive a play.  Last year at this time, I was preparing my experiment of presenting an adaptation of “Twelve Angry Men” on the stage at the high school, also “in the round.”  The reviews were beyond encouraging, many citing how the seating arrangement put them so much closer to the action, as opposed to the delineation and division of the audience from the action, as we are generally accustomed to with traditional productions in a proscenium space.  A play “in the round” does not explicitly demand an interactive performance with the audience.  But, what you as audience members can expect is that your connection to the play might be much greater, as your experience will be much more intimate than a show that is hidden from you behind a curtain.

That being said, you can also expect that, if you intend to buy tickets, you should do so as soon as possible, as seating will be limited.  At this time, the play will only allow for around 80 seats per performance.  Also at this time, we only have four scheduled performances, and while there is currently a brief discussion happening about extending the run, don’t let this opportunity slip through your fingers.

Finally - and a perfect opportunity for a segue - the play deals with the long-term effects of potential missed opportunities.  Set against the backdrop of the spread of the Industrial Revolution through 1930s Northern Ireland, the play deals with five women (and the men who love them) facing this change.  Such stark contrast forces them all to consider how they manage change (or not), how and why they’ve chosen a life of such secluded provinciality, and the consequence of what this change might mean.  More than anything, though, I believe the theme of this play could be explained in something of a metaphor: a young lady staring at her empty dance card, which she erased before she took an opportunity to dance, curious and disappointed about why she never did.

My mother often criticizes me for being somewhat cryptic.  Therefore, if you found that last line to be defined as cryptic, I apologize.  But, I can’t really tell you everything about the play, can I?  I’ve got to have some carrot to dangle.

Finally, I expect you to enjoy the show.  I’ve been massively impressed with this cast and crew thus far.  I see no reason to expect any differently.

“Dancing at Lughnasa” will run at the Mars Theater November 6-8 at 7:30, with a matinee performance on November 8 at 2:00.  Tickets are available at the WYO Theater box office.

I’ll see you at intermission!

Teasing for "Lughnasa"

In the fall of 2014, I had the profound honor of directing "Dancing at Lughnasa" for the Sheridan College Theater Dept.  Having performed this play in the past, I had been hoping that I would have gotten another chance to work on this play, and well ... I got it!

For the sake of brevity, I mean only to dangle a carrot for this column, as I find myself embarking on a new quest.  As I write this, I am in the interim evening between two nights of auditions for the production of the play “Dancing at Lughnasa” that I am directing for Sheridan College this fall.  And, as those of you that have been my frequent readers can attest, I am somewhat fond of metaphorical imagery in my writing.  Thus, I declare unto you, Sheridan theatre audience, the palate of talent that is combining to paint the picture that will be this production is vast, diverse, and of the highest quality.

First of all, something of a definition.  A question I’m getting frequently is, “What’s this play all about?”  In a nutshell, it is a memory play (a la “The Glass Menagerie), recounting a man’s summer as a youth in in 1936.  In that summer, industrial progress was flooding Ireland, exposing those outlying rural locations to ideas that would forevermore indelibly influence Irish culture.  The story centers around the narrator’s mother and her four older sisters who are faced with these inevitable changes, and are now faced with the decision of if and how to adapt.

However, to add to this game of extremes, the sisters, being from Northern Ireland, are also faced with the dilemma of hearing American Jazz tunes piped in via radio; the content of which often would challenge the morality of such provincial living.  Thus, not only are the women struggling with economic challenges, but spiritual challenges simultaneously.

As you must be able to discern by now that the show is - for lack of a better term - layered.  And, despite the setting in Northern Ireland, there is a universality to the show that makes it immensely relatable to audiences the world over, as thousands of productions of the play seem to prove.  I have reason to believe it will be no different in Sheridan.

But, back to my original point about having a unique privilege in Sheridan.  Recently, WYO Theatre Board Member Matt Davis and myself were discussing the excellent problem of having an immense amount of theatrical activity in Sheridan.  Opening the doors and setting up the Mars Theater for auditions tonight was truly thrilling, and the air seemed ripe with possibility and hope.  As the auditionees filed in, I felt honored (more so than I have been so far, being selected as the guest director for this production) to be amongst such hungry young talent; already incredibly diverse and thirsty for growth.

Bottom line, I’m going to get an excellent cast.  Or rather, I’m going to share an amazing young cast with you.  I hope you enjoy them.

I’ll see you at intermission!

Sheridan, you ARE a theatre town

A revelation came upon me throughout July.  The penultimate event upon which the community waits has come and gone.  Rodeo 2014 has passed; the annual celebration of our community that seems to unite us as the diverse people we are.  Okay, perhaps we’re not too immediately diverse on the surface. But rodeo week does seem to be the magnet that attracts all local souls for a common purpose, and nothing in our little burg would seem to come close to bringing us together as a people … until football season starts.  Then, again, at least a majority of us are united in or around one place for similar circumstances, but perhaps not similar purpose.  But I digress; my month in the theatre in July has made me think that there is another facet to our colloquial identity; superficially dormant but simultaneously communal.  Sheridan, you are not just a Rodeo and Football town.  You are also a Theatre Town.

I was honored to be requested to perform in this year’s Wyo Vaudevillians in the Mars Theater (yes, “theatre” and “theater” ARE different).  Although downscaled in number of seats, what was not downscaled was the entertainment value for this year’s series, which set a new standard of excellence.  Not only that, there seemed to be a mutual openness within the performers that allowed everyone to scan through the palate of acts available and figure out how to combine their act with others, all for the sake of enhancing the value of the product presented; truly a combined and ensemble effort.  Week after week, there seemed to be an evolving storyline with all characters and personalities associated with each show.  It made me nostalgic for the days before Netflix purging, when an audience eagerly anticipated the next week’s episode, only having just finished one.  The commentary from our consistently returning audience members was the proof in the pudding.  Next year, expect us to only raise the bar from here.  Why settle for just greatness?

My performances with my Pick Your Poison Improv Comedy troupe at Third Thursday events and at Habitat for Humanity’s “On the Foundation Event” exhibited to me the breadth of diversity of the people that will take a moment to hear a brief piece of comic mischief.  Rarely did I see the same faces twice, and usually, they all wore the same expression: all resembled the iconic mask of comedy.  We have two more scheduled events this summer (both at Third Thursdays), and I can expect that we will see the same sort of communal gathering, all for the promise of a free laugh (or several).

Two plays opened this past weekend, one unfortunately closed, but both share a common denominator.  Being able to watch the growth of the play “13” as a social media spectator, the final product was thrilling to behold.  Working with the group of stage-savvy individuals behind The Off-Kilter Fellowship and their production of “Baby With the Bathwater” (tickets are still available for their performances at the Carriage House this weekend), knowing that they scarcely knew each other not even a year ago, and now watching them blossom into a community of progressive stage artists could only be described as inspirational.  The common denominator?  These casts and crews created an indefatigable sense of belonging, loyalty, and sense of purpose for all involved.  Some bonds won’t be broken; these would appear to be impenetrable.

I’ve got two more shows to see this month.  The first will also take place at the Carriage House Theater, and its a format that I’ve been very curious to see onstage.  A fundraiser for the Kendrick Mansion and Trails End guilds, “Live Readers Theatre from the Golden Age of Radio” promises to take audiences back to a more illusory time, when the voices on the radio were used to create entire environments just by sound alone.  Their magic will weave Friday, August 15th and Saturday, August 16th at 7:30 p.m., with a matinee at 2:00 p.m. on Sunday the 17th.  

The next will be a project that I took part in last year, and am somewhat involved in this year.  I’ve already reported that Sheridan College will be presenting another year of Commedia dell’arte created by expert Gerry Hansen, a theatre faculty member from UC Santa Barbara.  This year, she’s combining Shakespeare with commedia, to first present an expedited version of Hamlet, and then using Commedia to make fun of it.  Plus, there will be no excuse to miss it this year, as the show will run EVERY night in the Mars Theater (with the exception of Sundays, I believe) at 7:30 p.m., August 15-23.  I would get used to that “every day” performance format: Sheridan College has a lot more in store next summer.  I can’t wait!

Overall, folks, I won’t be convinced that just a few plays a year would be sufficient for this town.  Perhaps it’s that we’re not in other cities, where there is simply a dearth of theatrical activity; we don’t even recognize it.  We find ourselves, as a community, attending the theatre, less out of obligation, and more out of habit.  The extent that theatre has affected families in this community is almost unfathomable, due not only to attendance, but participation, even if that’s dropping kids off at play practice.  We ARE a theatre town.  Let’s just put on our best coat and tails, smear on the greasepaint, and embrace it with open arms.

Man, I didn’t even leave myself enough space to plug “Dancing at Lughnasa” for this fall.  Until next time, I guess…

I’ll see you at intermission.

Refuting summer theatre claims

More of a plug for my friends in the community, this entry started to rebut the assumption that summer theatre in Sheridan could not be produced.

    Hello, again my faithful arts-friendly community!  It’s that time again - I’m going to ask you to get your permanent markers out and mark your up calendars.  This summer’s saturated not only with theatrical viewing opportunities, but plenty of vehicles for our local talent to strut their stuff.

    I believe that sometime within the last two years, I graced these pages voicing a mild disappointment.  Since I returned to Sheridan in 2008, I had it on good authority from several direct sources (not to mention personal experience) that summer theatre was simply not something that was “done” too much in Sheridan.  I am pleased to say that I believe the worm is turning.

    Not one to back down on a promise, Habitat for Humanity - under the very capable supervision of director Matt Davis - will be staging its annual “On the Foundation” one-acts, performed literally on the foundation of a house that Habitat is building.  I’ve had the pleasure of participating in this outstanding event twice now (I’ve been invited to participate again this summer), and it just keeps getting better.  This year, this event is on Thursday, July 24th, and tickets can be purchased at Sheridan Stationery.  Ticket prices for this event are a little higher, but all proceeds go directly to Habitat for Humanity, and last I checked, that’s a tax deduction, right?

    Sheridan High School alum and current Brown University student and athlete Emma Hall is bringing a pet project to the Sheridan audience; not to mention one of the most-produced plays of the past decade.  “13” - a musical that pulls back the curtain on modern teen angst, shedding much-needed light on the roles that are thrust upon today’s youth - features music and lyrics by Jason Robert Brown, one of the best new artists in modern musical theatre.  His oeuvre is truly exceptional, and “13” is no exception.  If I can’t sell you on that feature, consider the production crew of the newly-formed Funny Face productions.  At the helm is Hall, with whom I’ve had the pleasure of working in the theatre several times; her theatrical prowess is vast, and always impressive.  Directing the music will be local musical heroes Loretta Tonak on orchestral direction (Loretta’s talent and spirit elevate even the most mundane performances into instantly memorable experiences), and Brekken Baker, another talented SHS alum that recently toured the world with Up With People.  I can’t imagine a more vibrant and well-qualified vocal director to help lead the cast comprised of 24 local youth.  “13” will run for 3 nights only, July 30-August 1 in the Mars Black Box Theatre at the WYO.  Tickets can be purchased at the WYO box office.

    Recent Sheridan College graduate Jacob Claytor has also created a production company that will launch its opus this summer.  “Baby with the Bathwater” is one of playwright Christopher Durang’s earliest plays that easily established him as one of America’s leading comic playwrights.  Cast with several more of Sheridan College’s recent theatre graduates, as well as current students (my favoritism towards their projects is well-documented in my previous entries to this column) this hilarious farce about new parents will run at the Carriage House on July 31-August 2.  But, if you miss it that weekend (because you’re too busy seeing “13”), you’ll get another chance to see it on the following weekend; August 7-9.  Tickets can be purchased at the WYO box office.

    I’m really inspired by these two productions, not only because I’ve worked with these groups and know their potential, but I appreciate the grassroots methods by which these students are getting their shows produced.  They’ve got great promise, but more importantly, the fervent desire to make good art.  What’s not to love?

    Speaking of Sheridan College, theatre instructor DannyLee Hodnett is bringing commedia dell’arte & Shakespeare expert Gerry Hansen out from UC Santa Barbara - for the second summer in a row - to conduct a workshop and performance in her field of expertise, this year poking fun at “Hamlet.”  I had the absolute pleasure to take part in her workshop/production last summer (alas, I won’t be able to participate this year, but I’ll gladly be an audience member), and it was without exaggeration one of the best shows I’ve ever been involved with; which made it even more enjoyable to bring it to an audience.  The performances will August 15-24 in the Mars Black Box Theater at the WYO.

    Lastly, what am I up to?  Right now, graduate studies are consuming my time, but I am keeping somewhat active.  My improv troupe, Pick Your Poison, will be performing in or around the WYO Theater for the remainder of 2014’s Third Thursday festivals.  But, you’ll be hearing more from me as we get closer to November.  I have happily accepted the offer to direct Sheridan College’s mainstage production this fall.  I have selected Brian Friel’s award-winning play “Dancing at Lughnasa,” (pronounced “LOO-nuh-suh”; yes I’m already getting a lot of clever pronunciations), which will also run in the Mars Black Box Theater.  Yes, a lot of quality activity is going on in this new space.  And deservedly so.

    Does anyone still believe Sheridan theatre doesn’t have the opportunity to thrive during the summer?  I suppose this summer will be something of a litmus test, but I beg to differ.  I even left some productions out (sorry, gang - I have only so much space!)

    I’ll see you at intermission!

More musings on Improv

For the better part of a year, I have been working with students from Sheridan College’s theatre program on discovering and honing their talents in improvisation.  During our exercises in the last week, a suggestion for one of the scenes was “mad scientist.”  While that gave us not only a few laughs and a lot of inspiration for good scene work, it seemed to be a running theme in our troupe for the next week.  In preparing our upcoming show, I couldn’t help but feel a little like Dr. Frankenstein creating his monster.  And, while I’m fairly certain my creation will not have the same outcome as the lamentable Doctor’s, I can at least say that mine has had similar origins: it is composed of the best parts of several individuals, its getting really comfortable on its own legs, and is quite powerful.

I bring this all up briefly, as our troupe has been preparing a new show as something of an experiment (but, what improv show is not that?).  Laboratory science seems to be a great metaphor for improvisation.  A hypothesis is created, the ingredients are mixed in different concoctions, all meant to produce a desired result, and often many unexpected reactions occur.  However, unlike laboratory science, the results of an improv scene are rarely unfavorable.  As I often tell my students after scenes: “You didn’t fail.  You created something new that has never been seen before and will never be seen again. I’ve just witnessed something that was truly unique!”

Usually, I’ll say this when a scene goes awry, or at least not as expected.  However, I seldom have to say this with these students.  Currently studying the theatre arts, these students are able to create utterly powerful and fascinating scenes, which have often left me aching in the sides from laughter, and/or kept me riveted, wanting to know how everything they’ve put on stage for a single scene will unfold.  I’ve worked with a lot of improv groups in my time, and very few of them have a group mindset like this team has.

One of the most exciting elements about improvisational theatre is the idea that anything can - and often will - happen.  One moment, a man could be asking a woman out on a date, the next, they are fighting an army of Martians on the moon, Earth’s only hope against such a seemingly unstoppable scourge.  But, you only get that far if you team can work and think together.  That old saying, “We can finish each other’s sentences” … we’re getting to the point where we can finish each other’s thoughts!  All right … I may be exaggerating a little; but, it’s truly inspiring.

So, I hope you’ll don your lab coats, and step into our laboratory and give us a try.  We’ve been preparing a romance-themed Valentine’s Day show for you at Sheridan College.  It’ll be a date that will not soon be forgotten.

Our show will begin at 7:30 on Friday, February 14th in the Whitney Presentation Hall on the Sheridan College Main Campus.  If I haven’t enticed you thus far, THE SHOW IS FREE! We will be accepting donations, and all proceeds will go to Sheridan College’s Twisted Stair Theatre club.

So, whether you have plans or not, we’re not planning to take up your whole evening.  We’re shooting for about an hour, so you can take your date out for dessert afterwards.  And, what better way to show off to a date: you’re taking her to the most exclusive show in town.  You’ve got the skinny!  Not just another boring night at the movies!

Of course, if you miss this one, we’ll understand, we have several more shows planned for the spring.  Hopefully we’ll see you there!

As always, I’ll see you at intermission (even if we don’t have one)!

The genesis of my advocacy for social media integration

I began to think quite heavily about the integration of social media in the theatre event, and what communication is going to look like as a result.  This entry was from January 2014:

    By now, if you've read my entries into this column in years past, I hope you'll forgive another entry that will address some formerly addressed topics: social media, how it can be used in theatre, and how it can attract new audiences.

    Last summer, my wife and I crossed another item off of our entertainment bucket list. We finally saw Lewis Black, one of our favorite stand-up comedians, live on the stage of the Alberta Bair Theater in Billings, after having many opportunities to do so while living in Seattle and LA.  He devoted a good hunk of his act to aim his curmudgeonly perspective at social media. He told of how he reluctantly created a website, with the idea of getting his fans to know his schedule and buy merchandise. Then, his publicist suggested that he should create a Facebook page ... with the idea of attracting people to his website.  He capitulated, just as reluctantly.  Finally, he griped that, during the tour he was currently on, a comedian friend of his suggested that he create a Twitter account.  Befuddled, he claimed that he already had a Facebook page, and he begrudgingly created that with the hope of attracting people to his website.  His colleague agreed, but she said that a Twitter account would help fans get to his Facebook page.  In classic Black fashion, he shook his jowls and almost had a nervous breakdown in front of us.

    I am on Lewis Black’s e-mail list.  I have visited his website often.  I ‘like’ him on Facebook, and I follow him on Twitter.  It would seem that I know every professional step that the man takes, which, as a devout fan, is like the sprinkles on the frosting on the cake.

    It truly fascinates me how quickly our methods of communication have changed from those of even ten years ago.  Some businesses will still operate “old school” and send me postcards or letters, as I must have put myself on a mailing list years ago.  While these methods are still somewhat effective (inasmuch as letting me know admission prices and performance dates), there is only so much that can be put on a card.  Even now, e-mail has become somewhat archaic, as people often don’t check it, or are so bogged down with their massive inboxes that they simply don’t want to deal with the deluge.

    I used to marvel at people that were such devout fans of a band or an actor, etc. that they could easily rattle off intimate details of their lives; often to the extent that they could predict what their favorite artists might be having for lunch or where they’d spend their vacations.  These meta-fans used to be somewhat few and far between.  But, with the advent of social media, anyone can be just as up-to-date as the next person.

    I follow a lot of theatres, theatre companies, actors, designers, and arts organizations on Facebook and Twitter.  I’ve been listening to podcasts and reading lots of articles about how they are evolving with these new methods of communication.  Similar to how people reacted to the invention of television, a lot of these artists grumble about the newer generations’ constant state of “connected-ness;” that they are not enjoying life as it is happening in real time.  But where some see detriment, others see opportunity.  For example, one theatre company in North Carolina - which I follow on Facebook and Twitter - offers discounted tickets and seating for specific performances for patrons that would live tweet and/or update their status while watching the show, giving first-hand criticism.  Even if the criticism is unfavorable, it's at least out there, and better yet … FREE!  The company said that, despite very few complaints of the distraction of mobile devices’ screens, their younger demographic increased greatly, as did the return visits of younger people, while the numbers of the older demographic groups hardly changed at all.  WINNING!

    Other theatres are trying to combat recent film fads by advertising that they offer the “only true 3D theatre that has ever existed.”  One article I read - via Twitter - suggested that new patrons could be attracted from the fairly recent fad of on-demand viewers (those that would rather sit at home and stream movie after movie or episode after episode of any show) by playing up the intimacy of live performance.  I was impressed by this, as I have sat in the front row of many different performances, and the feeling of being in the midst of some of the most fascinating and tumultuous scenes onstage, or once-in-a-lifetime musical performances … well, it’s virtually irreplaceable.

    So, what am I saying?  Folks, accept that social media is a new way to communicate.  If newer generations wish to communicate that way, figure out how to communicate your messages to them - you might just be able to temporarily resurrect these zombies from their digital comas with live performance.  And, to the newer generations: not everything will be on Facebook or Twitter or Instagram or Pinterest, etc., etc., etc.  Who knows?  You might actually get to witness life as it actually happens.

    If you’d like, you can follow me on Twitter (@retrosweater) to see who I follow.  The Civic Theatre Guild, WYO Theater, Sheridan College’s No Frill Theatre, and many other locals have social media presence.  Follow them, if you don’t already.  #newfollowers!

    I’ll see you at intermission … or online.  :)

Looking back on fall 2013

To pay homage to one of my favorite porcine talents, I humbly write: “That’s all, Folks!”

I speak, of course, of the closure of the first half of the local theatre season.  As I observed the Thanksgiving holiday this year, it occurred to me, over the din of silverware and china clanking, over many stories swapped across the turkey and stuffing, over the children beginning to figure out that the holiday might mean more than jamming black olives on their fingers, I was actually able to find a moment in which I could reflect on that which I could be truly grateful.  Mixed in amongst thoughts of unconditional friendships and healthy, safe, and happy families, one item that sprung up was the richness of this fall’s local theatre lineup.  Truly richer than that second piece of pumpkin pie that made most of us feign regret.

I feel quite comfortable in assuming that an institution that most Sheridanites value is that of family.  That being said, it was fascinating to watch two families implode before our very eyes during the Civic Theatre Guild’s production of “God of Carnage.”  I’m a sucker for most Pulitzer Prize-winning plays, but there was something to that play, and the way it pulled back the curtain of civility to expose each person’s inner beasts - well, it made me feel truly honored to be a spectator.  It’s pretty rare nowadays to be subjected to that level of French Existentialism; perhaps that’s what I found so intoxicating.  Perhaps it was simply CTG Board President and “God of Carnage” director Matt Davis and his eclectic style (plaid and cow-print, anyone?).  Could that combination be anything but hypnotic?  Doubtful.

The next thrill came in musical form, as many of your old and new favorites performed “Cabaret” for this year’s gala.  I often debate with myself over which of the performing arts is more visceral; music or theatre.  Combine them - and do it well - and you may as well surrender your guts on a platter as you enter.  Cabaret, simply put, is not any easy play to do or to see.  For the audience, it’s incredibly jarring to watch the gradual downward spiral onstage, as every precursor to Nazism and the Holocaust present themselves, ending with a single light on the Emcee, being abruptly snuffed.  My heart still sinks to think about it.  As I’ve mentioned before in this column, this was Erin Butler’s directorial swan song … and what a way to go out!

Sheridan College’s No Frills Theatre Company made me blow a laugh gasket or two with their production of the classic comedy The Rivals.  From an era of theatre meant to thrill both the high and low (economically and educationally), the cheap laughs and the upper-crust, esoteric guffaws bounced off the walls of the WYO with outstanding aplomb.  For example, it’s rare to see an actor so adept at traversing the emotional spectrum from utter humility to utter degradation within a split second as well as Jacob Claytor.  I can’t wait to see what he’s got in store for us as the lead in Godspell.  If you’re going to planning to see only one show this spring, that’s an excellent candidate!

Finally, I wish to say that I am grateful for the years I’ve spent as the Drama Club Director at Sheridan High School.  As many of you know, I’ve just finished my last season directing the fall play at SHS, and I couldn’t be more proud of my final production, speaking of swan songs.  I think one of the most interesting pieces of criticism for Twelve Angry Jurors came from the grandmother of a cast member: “What was most amazing about this play is that you’ve convinced me that I NEVER want to be on a jury.”  While it was not specifically my aim to evoke my audience into shirking their civic duties, it was quite telling that staging the play in the round amidst that fiery and utterly thrilling cast … well, I guess it got to people.  THAT was my goal.

The past six years have truly been a joy, a privilege at times.  And, I am forever grateful for every moment I spent with the youth on that stage.  

Don’t worry - I’m not going anywhere.  Just resting my heels for a moment.  Just like The Joker, I’ve always got something up my sleeve.

And, I’m grateful to you for continuing to support all of us on the boards.  We wouldn’t do it if it weren’t for you.