A play of mine is being read at the Playwrights’ Center this Sunday, October 18th.
If I’d typed that sentence sometime between 1994 and 2002, it wouldn’t seem all that strange.
Typing it in 2009 seems pretty strange.
But I’m happy to be typing it. And a bit hopeful.
I’m not really hopeful for me.
I’m not really hopeful for anybody who’s already gotten fellowships or core memberships or writers already involved with the Workhaus Collective and the like because, really, they’ve always been taken care of, one way or another.
The people I’m hopeful for are the general membership. The playwright who’s trying to get that first production. The playwright who’s trying to arrange the first public reading of one of their scripts. The playwright who has never actually finished a play yet, but who wants to do so. All the regular joes and janes off the street who have an idea, and a desire to put it on stage, but they haven’t been recognized by the larger theatrical community just yet.
It feels like the Playwrights’ Center might be interested in local writers again.
The event on Sunday is a first step.
The Dramatists Guild and the Playwrights’ Center are teaming up to bring local playwrights of all stripes together in the same place.
Sunday, October 18, 2009
3:30 pm - Dramatists Guild Town Hall Meeting/Dramatists' Rights Workshop
Guild members and non-members are invited to attend an information session that will detail an overview of the Dramatists Guild, discuss new programming in its future and then an open Q & A for all. Following that Q & A, the Dramatists' Bill of Rights will be explained and explored with participants. With Gary Garrison (DG Executive Director of Creative Affairs), Roland Tec (Director of Membership), and John Heimbuch (Twin Cities Regional Rep).
(Oops. Sorry. The RSVP date on this first part of the day is past, I just noticed. I’m working my second job, so it was already out for me, hence my lack of urgency in posting. Apologies. But fear not. If you’re not on board for the opening salvo, the evening has much more to offer that’s wide open to all.)
5:00 - Social gathering with hors d'oeuvres and drinks
(Let the awkward banter among strangers begin!)
5:30 - A reading of two short plays:
Dandelion Snow by Matthew Everett
and
How to View The Comet by Anne Bertram
(Hey, I know those two! They wrote a Fringe play together in which a guy played a dog, among other things.)
5:55 - Discussion: What the Playwrights’ Center and the Dramatists Guild can do for the careers of playwrights, including how the organizations are the same, and how they’re different.
7:00 - Representatives of small, medium and large-sized theatres and service organizations will discuss trends in theatre, playwriting and dramaturgy with Gary Garrison, moderator. As guests are finalized, the list will be updated.
Panelists so far include:
Hayley Finn (Playwrights’ Center)
Gary Garrison (The Dramatists Guild)
John Miller-Stephany (The Guthrie Theater)
Ben Krywosz (Nautilus Music-Theater)
John Heimbuch (Walking Shadow Theatre Company)
Ron Peluso (the History Theatre)
Trista Baldwin (Workhaus Collective)
Steve Busa (Red Eye Theatre)
Anne Bertram (Theatre Unbound)
Elissa Adams (The Children’s Theatre Company)
Reservations are recommended.
RSVP to 612-332-7481 x10
For more information go to: http://www.pwcenter.org/events.php?pid=1113
For a period of about nine years, the Playwrights’ Center was a second home for me.
Then quite abruptly, it wasn’t anymore.
It was strange to go from being one of the Center’s biggest cheerleaders, to being... not one of its cheerleaders.
For the last seven years, I’ve rarely darkened the Center’s doors. The occasional production my friends were putting on, renting the black box space. Fringe Festival season. Other than that, I stayed away.
I don’t go where I don’t feel welcome.
All this went down before I started blogging, so the words The Playwrights’ Center have turned up in the blog rarely if at all, and then never as a subject, only as a location, mentioned in passing.
To be honest, I know pretty much nothing at all about the current configuration of the Center. I didn’t visit the website, I didn’t link to the website (even though a great many of my plays were developed there, and thus it’s all over my online resume and production history of various scripts), and I have to admit I actually ripped up any mailing that came from the Center without even reading it. (Though no longer a member of the Center, since I gave them money during the capital campaign to renovate the place from ramshackle former church building into its current much spiffier state, I was permanently ensconced on their mailing list.)
The Center and I had a mutual sort of “Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf” kind of relationship.
“George, if you existed, I’d divorce you.”
At first, the split made me angry. Then it just made me sad. Eventually, I just decided to stop expending emotional energy on a situation that didn’t look like it was ever going to change.
I didn’t blog anything about the Center, because I didn’t have anything constructive to say.
Now, here I am blogging about the Center.
Why the thaw?
Anna Peterson, the Membership Manager & Literary Associate at the Playwrights’ Center.
She sent me an email in March, curious about the background regarding my lapse in membership, wanting to meet me and pick my brain.
She had coffee with Anne Bertram, learned I used to run one of the Center’s new play reading series for several years, and was thus even more curious.
When I got past my work on the Medea play, we met for lunch and she got an earful.
Back around 2001-2002, the Center had a major shift in focus. The culture of the place seemed to turn its eyes to becoming more of a national presence on the theater scene. All to the good. Higher profile for the Center means higher profile, and access, for its members.
The trouble, as perceived by me and a number of other general members, was that the Center seemed to forget that Minnesota was also part of the nation.
It always struck me as a missed opportunity. If suddenly there was this outpouring of amazing scripts and writers from Minnesota, and the Center could take credit for helping develop that, it seems like everybody wins.
There used to be a weekly new play reading series, open to anyone, you didn’t even have to have your script written yet.
Ten months out of the year, a new play every week.
Actors volunteered their time. No rehearsal, often they could read the script ahead of time if they wanted, but it was basically a cold read. Seat of your pants theater at its most basic.
Fellow writers came to be part of the audience, and to circle the chairs and offer constructive feedback after the reading was over.
Often, those who could stay longer would adjourn to the local bar or coffeehouse just down the block and continue the discussion and the camaraderie.
A grassroots community of writers, supporting one another’s work, and each other as writers, grew up.
The shift happened. The reading series and that community doesn’t exist anymore.
Which is too bad, but water under the bridge. Spilt milk. A bell that can’t be unrung.
The refugees of that community found other places to congregate and develop their work. Writing groups, the Minnesota Fringe Festival.
Those writers have moved on. They have productions, get grants, run their own theaters, make films.
But it would be nice to think that the writers they used to be, in need of a nurturing place to act as a launching pad to start their careers in theater, could find a home again in the Center, rather than have to work around it or succeed in spite of it.
The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.
When Anne and I were asked to submit short works to be read as part of the event on Sunday, there was a moment’s hesitation.
The gesture has been made. If we return the gesture, we’re saying we’re invested on some level in facilitating this moment of change. As Anne put it, “Are you ready to climb that hill?”
I am.
Local writers, the Playwrights’ Center seems genuinely interested in re-introducing itself to you. It wants to let you know what it has to offer. It wants to find out from you what you feel you need.
The door is open. I’m walking through it in order to peek around, see if I can purge a little of the bad juju, because that’s the kind of curious and hopeful fool I am on my better days.
Care to join me?
(And hey, those of you who wondered when I was going to have some kind of local reading again - this would be it.)
5pm - treats
5:30 - plays
5:55 - the dialogue offstage begins...
The Playwrights' Center is located at 2301 Franklin Avenue East in Minneapolis
Its website is www.pwcenter.org
Thursday, October 15, 2009
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Shameless Plug of the Day - Vaudeville Extravaganza
It's the final weekend for this event, and it's entertainment for a most worthy cause, so I thought I'd give it a shout-out. The artist involved is someone who did a really fine Fringe show back in 2005 - Swim Home - which removed a lot of the stigma off of miming for me. When done well, it can be pretty amazing. And he does it well. When he's not fighting for his life, which at the moment, he is.
A friend emailed me about this event last week and she says it best, so...
"Dear Friends,
A friend of mine is fighting a hard battle with leukemia. Leukemia that he developed from his treatment for colon cancer last year.
His name is Mikael Rudolph.
My friend is a long standing member of the local performing community that you may know, or have at least seen perform. He delights both children and adults and has a generous heart and spirit as a professional clown. He competes and teaches ballroom dancing. He is also an actor that has graced many a Twin Cities stage.
But, even if you don't know him, I want you to know about him, because he's fighting a really hard battle to save his own life right now.
And his friends in the performing community have gathered together to form their own 'army' to fight one battle for him - his growing medical bills. Their 'battle' is taking the form of a two week cancer benefit aptly titled the "Vaudeville Variety Extravaganza". It opens today, Wed Oct 7, and runs through Sun Oct 18.
Please take a moment to check out the website to see the list of performers: www.pushpinpush.com
I hope you'll consider going - it promises to be very entertaining (even for the kiddies!) and it helps give back to someone who has contributed to our rich performing community.
Tickets are available only at the door (no pre-sales) and the Box Office will open one hour before each performance.
And even if you can't go - you can still go to the website and make a donation. Every cent helps!
Thank you for letting me share Mikael's story with you."
So, if you're looking for a fun outing Wednesday through Sunday this week, with the added benefit of helping out an artist in need, this fits the bill nicely. Check it out.
More info here, and here plus more about Mikael at www.mikaelthemime.com
A friend emailed me about this event last week and she says it best, so...
"Dear Friends,
A friend of mine is fighting a hard battle with leukemia. Leukemia that he developed from his treatment for colon cancer last year.
His name is Mikael Rudolph.
My friend is a long standing member of the local performing community that you may know, or have at least seen perform. He delights both children and adults and has a generous heart and spirit as a professional clown. He competes and teaches ballroom dancing. He is also an actor that has graced many a Twin Cities stage.
But, even if you don't know him, I want you to know about him, because he's fighting a really hard battle to save his own life right now.
And his friends in the performing community have gathered together to form their own 'army' to fight one battle for him - his growing medical bills. Their 'battle' is taking the form of a two week cancer benefit aptly titled the "Vaudeville Variety Extravaganza". It opens today, Wed Oct 7, and runs through Sun Oct 18.
Please take a moment to check out the website to see the list of performers: www.pushpinpush.com
I hope you'll consider going - it promises to be very entertaining (even for the kiddies!) and it helps give back to someone who has contributed to our rich performing community.
Tickets are available only at the door (no pre-sales) and the Box Office will open one hour before each performance.
And even if you can't go - you can still go to the website and make a donation. Every cent helps!
Thank you for letting me share Mikael's story with you."
So, if you're looking for a fun outing Wednesday through Sunday this week, with the added benefit of helping out an artist in need, this fits the bill nicely. Check it out.
More info here, and here plus more about Mikael at www.mikaelthemime.com
Friday, September 04, 2009
Review - Good Boys - Minnesota Shakes - 3-1/2 stars
"Don't worry. It's not loaded."
(BANG)
"I lied."
How do you make sense of the unthinkable?
How do you assign blame when there's no one to blame, and everyone's to blame?
How do you forgive the unforgivable?
These are all meaty questions to take on in a play. Jane Martin's "Good Boys" explores the aftermath of a school shooting. Originally produced at the old Guthrie Lab space back in 2002, the play is back again, produced this time by Minnesota Shakes at the Lowry Lab Theater in St. Paul. The five actors involved all grapple admirably with the issues and emotions tackled by the script. Some puzzling directing and production decisions undermine their good work, however.
Two men meet in the park, but not by chance. Thomas Thurman (Eric Wood) has come looking for James Erskine (Bill Gorman). Erskine is the father of Ethan (Nick James) who eight years ago killed several of his fellow high school students, including Thurman's son Marcus (Pedro Juan Fonseca) and then turned the gun on himself. Erskine's downhill slide since then has been precipitous - losing home, job, and family as the lawsuits piled up and the news reporters continued to hound him. He's chasing down his hot dog lunch with a flask of liquor. Thurman and his younger son Corin (Anthony Galloway) have come looking for answers, perhaps forgiveness, perhaps revenge. Memories of the dead boys, and their spirits speaking directly to the audience, weave in and out of the conversation between the two grieving fathers.
Here's the first place the production loses me. The script seems to be crying out to play uninterrupted. The dead boys appearing and disappearing aren't supposed to be distinct separate scenes, divorced from the confrontation between their fathers. The audience is supposed to see the fathers, ever present, whether the parents are watching or not. The past is supposed to mingle with the present onstage because these men can't escape their past. The play keeps cycling back to the notion that wars of words can lead all too quickly to wars with bullets. Having the two planes of reality share the same space is visual reinforcement of one of the play's recurring themes.
Also, once those two men are facing off with one another in the park, they can't leave. It takes all the air out of the confrontation, and the thing has to be rebooted, constantly. It doesn't make any sense that these men would wander off together and come back to the same place, over and over again. The one man clearly doesn't want to have this conversation. If he can make his escape, he will. The other man needs to hold him there. The play needs to hold him there. The places the play most strains credulity are the places where it seems like Erskine could just walk away from Thurman and not look back, and yet he doesn't. The production lands a one-two punch on the script by undermining its strengths and reinforcing its weaknesses. Here, the fathers leave and return, leave and return.
The times when the production doesn't do this, but the past and the present, the fathers and the sons, share the stage together, all work so well, I find it baffling that the strategy of isolation and escape kept happening instead. The production would have been so much more powerful if everyone had just stayed put.
To compound the lessening of tension, two musicians - a keyboardist (Jack Rose and Chris Thompson each working different performances), and a bass player (Ralph Wittcoff) - play jazzy riffs in between scenes. Not only is it letting more unnecessary time pass, but the music is so friendly and relaxing, it flies in the face of the intensity of the play. The musicians do a nice job, but they're completely out of place here.
Also out of place, an act break. This is written as a one-act for a reason. Like the Greek tragedies of old, it's supposed to start and then barrel forward, unrelenting, to its climax. Don't give your audience an opportunity to walk out on you. Yes, the audience did come back the night I was there. But going to an intermission, when you don't need to, right after a kid shoots another kid in the face on stage - when you know, from the set-up of the play, that things aren't going to get better, only worse - I'm not sure whether that makes you a sadist for expecting your audience to come back, or your audience a bunch of masochists, or both. In addition, though, it robs the play of still more tension, and just makes the uphill battle of reeling in the audience for the actors that much harder when they have to restart the confrontation all over again.
The cast members all seem capable of making this thing work. There are moments that are quite powerful in their heartbreaking intensity. The parents trying, and ultimately failing, to save their sons from their worst instincts stand out. But it doesn't seem like anybody got a lot of guidance. This is particularly true of the confrontation between the fathers, which is the backbone of the play.
The script is far from perfect. It has all the advantages and pitfalls of a two-person play, wrapped inside a five-person play. Plus, the deliberate and largely unexplained absence of the mothers from this story is very strange. Every school shooter has a mother somewhere in their life, or they wouldn't be walking around with that gun in their hand. They wouldn't exist at all. The notion of race (Erskine is white, Thomas black) seems to be thrown in at random. It's a problem when the author needs it to be a problem, and recedes to the background when it's convenient. (In a torturous bit of convoluted backstory, it turns out Thurman has a record for armed robbery, but doesn't really have a record for armed robbery. Really? The black guy has to serve time in jail, but only because of an outrageous coincidence? Was any of that necessary? What does it have to do with anything? The father's absence didn't get his kid killed. The kid's attitude and another kid's love of firearms got the kid killed.)
Then there are times in the conversation between the fathers when the script seems to be literally repeating itself. Which is when the actors and director have to dig deeper and find where the difference in tactics lies. How is this moment different than the one that came before? How is this moment leading to the next one? How is each line driving the story toward its conclusion? More importantly, how is this one man keeping the other man from walking out on a conversation they both desperately need to have? What holds the reluctant man there? How are these two things manifested in the words they say, and avoid saying, to one another? There were times it felt like the father characters had only two settings - angry and weeping. That seesaw ride can get old quickly. The fathers can't peak too early or they have nowhere else to go emotionally. For that, I don't blame the actors, I blame the director. All the actors clearly have the ability to hit the highs and lows, which means they can also handle that middle ground. It was the nuances in between that I was often missing.
All that said, there's a lot to recommend this production. The actors, as previously mentioned, dive into this thing with relish. It's a story dealing with the nature of responsibility and the possibility of redemption. Powerful stuff. It could be so much more - both in script and production, but what it is now is not easily dismissed. The troubles this play was built on continue today. This play, and this production, give us a chance to get the issues out in the open, beyond the sensationalistic sound bites of 24-hour news coverage, and spend some time with the human beings whose lives are shaped by these kind of events. It offers us some depth, and maybe some understanding. Even if theater doesn't always hit the mark it's aiming for, we're almost always better for it having tried. There is no wasted effort. Only more to do.
Recommended.
"Good Boys" from Minnesota Shakes runs through the Labor Day weekend - Friday and Saturday, 7:30; Sunday and Monday, 6:30. Tickets are $20, with the final performance on Monday, September 7, 2009 being a Pay-What-You-Can night. Reservations, call 651-786-9102 or email to minnesotashakes@gmail.com. The Lowry Lab Theater is located at 360 St. Peter Street in St. Paul. (Warning - There are several loud gunshots throughout the evening (beginning, middle and end), and it's a black box space, so it's close to the audience. Though this one's shooting blanks, it's good to be reminded every now and again just why we should be scared of real guns in the wrong hands.) More information at minnesotashakes.blogspot.com
(BANG)
"I lied."
How do you make sense of the unthinkable?
How do you assign blame when there's no one to blame, and everyone's to blame?
How do you forgive the unforgivable?
These are all meaty questions to take on in a play. Jane Martin's "Good Boys" explores the aftermath of a school shooting. Originally produced at the old Guthrie Lab space back in 2002, the play is back again, produced this time by Minnesota Shakes at the Lowry Lab Theater in St. Paul. The five actors involved all grapple admirably with the issues and emotions tackled by the script. Some puzzling directing and production decisions undermine their good work, however.
Two men meet in the park, but not by chance. Thomas Thurman (Eric Wood) has come looking for James Erskine (Bill Gorman). Erskine is the father of Ethan (Nick James) who eight years ago killed several of his fellow high school students, including Thurman's son Marcus (Pedro Juan Fonseca) and then turned the gun on himself. Erskine's downhill slide since then has been precipitous - losing home, job, and family as the lawsuits piled up and the news reporters continued to hound him. He's chasing down his hot dog lunch with a flask of liquor. Thurman and his younger son Corin (Anthony Galloway) have come looking for answers, perhaps forgiveness, perhaps revenge. Memories of the dead boys, and their spirits speaking directly to the audience, weave in and out of the conversation between the two grieving fathers.
Here's the first place the production loses me. The script seems to be crying out to play uninterrupted. The dead boys appearing and disappearing aren't supposed to be distinct separate scenes, divorced from the confrontation between their fathers. The audience is supposed to see the fathers, ever present, whether the parents are watching or not. The past is supposed to mingle with the present onstage because these men can't escape their past. The play keeps cycling back to the notion that wars of words can lead all too quickly to wars with bullets. Having the two planes of reality share the same space is visual reinforcement of one of the play's recurring themes.
Also, once those two men are facing off with one another in the park, they can't leave. It takes all the air out of the confrontation, and the thing has to be rebooted, constantly. It doesn't make any sense that these men would wander off together and come back to the same place, over and over again. The one man clearly doesn't want to have this conversation. If he can make his escape, he will. The other man needs to hold him there. The play needs to hold him there. The places the play most strains credulity are the places where it seems like Erskine could just walk away from Thurman and not look back, and yet he doesn't. The production lands a one-two punch on the script by undermining its strengths and reinforcing its weaknesses. Here, the fathers leave and return, leave and return.
The times when the production doesn't do this, but the past and the present, the fathers and the sons, share the stage together, all work so well, I find it baffling that the strategy of isolation and escape kept happening instead. The production would have been so much more powerful if everyone had just stayed put.
To compound the lessening of tension, two musicians - a keyboardist (Jack Rose and Chris Thompson each working different performances), and a bass player (Ralph Wittcoff) - play jazzy riffs in between scenes. Not only is it letting more unnecessary time pass, but the music is so friendly and relaxing, it flies in the face of the intensity of the play. The musicians do a nice job, but they're completely out of place here.
Also out of place, an act break. This is written as a one-act for a reason. Like the Greek tragedies of old, it's supposed to start and then barrel forward, unrelenting, to its climax. Don't give your audience an opportunity to walk out on you. Yes, the audience did come back the night I was there. But going to an intermission, when you don't need to, right after a kid shoots another kid in the face on stage - when you know, from the set-up of the play, that things aren't going to get better, only worse - I'm not sure whether that makes you a sadist for expecting your audience to come back, or your audience a bunch of masochists, or both. In addition, though, it robs the play of still more tension, and just makes the uphill battle of reeling in the audience for the actors that much harder when they have to restart the confrontation all over again.
The cast members all seem capable of making this thing work. There are moments that are quite powerful in their heartbreaking intensity. The parents trying, and ultimately failing, to save their sons from their worst instincts stand out. But it doesn't seem like anybody got a lot of guidance. This is particularly true of the confrontation between the fathers, which is the backbone of the play.
The script is far from perfect. It has all the advantages and pitfalls of a two-person play, wrapped inside a five-person play. Plus, the deliberate and largely unexplained absence of the mothers from this story is very strange. Every school shooter has a mother somewhere in their life, or they wouldn't be walking around with that gun in their hand. They wouldn't exist at all. The notion of race (Erskine is white, Thomas black) seems to be thrown in at random. It's a problem when the author needs it to be a problem, and recedes to the background when it's convenient. (In a torturous bit of convoluted backstory, it turns out Thurman has a record for armed robbery, but doesn't really have a record for armed robbery. Really? The black guy has to serve time in jail, but only because of an outrageous coincidence? Was any of that necessary? What does it have to do with anything? The father's absence didn't get his kid killed. The kid's attitude and another kid's love of firearms got the kid killed.)
Then there are times in the conversation between the fathers when the script seems to be literally repeating itself. Which is when the actors and director have to dig deeper and find where the difference in tactics lies. How is this moment different than the one that came before? How is this moment leading to the next one? How is each line driving the story toward its conclusion? More importantly, how is this one man keeping the other man from walking out on a conversation they both desperately need to have? What holds the reluctant man there? How are these two things manifested in the words they say, and avoid saying, to one another? There were times it felt like the father characters had only two settings - angry and weeping. That seesaw ride can get old quickly. The fathers can't peak too early or they have nowhere else to go emotionally. For that, I don't blame the actors, I blame the director. All the actors clearly have the ability to hit the highs and lows, which means they can also handle that middle ground. It was the nuances in between that I was often missing.
All that said, there's a lot to recommend this production. The actors, as previously mentioned, dive into this thing with relish. It's a story dealing with the nature of responsibility and the possibility of redemption. Powerful stuff. It could be so much more - both in script and production, but what it is now is not easily dismissed. The troubles this play was built on continue today. This play, and this production, give us a chance to get the issues out in the open, beyond the sensationalistic sound bites of 24-hour news coverage, and spend some time with the human beings whose lives are shaped by these kind of events. It offers us some depth, and maybe some understanding. Even if theater doesn't always hit the mark it's aiming for, we're almost always better for it having tried. There is no wasted effort. Only more to do.
Recommended.
"Good Boys" from Minnesota Shakes runs through the Labor Day weekend - Friday and Saturday, 7:30; Sunday and Monday, 6:30. Tickets are $20, with the final performance on Monday, September 7, 2009 being a Pay-What-You-Can night. Reservations, call 651-786-9102 or email to minnesotashakes@gmail.com. The Lowry Lab Theater is located at 360 St. Peter Street in St. Paul. (Warning - There are several loud gunshots throughout the evening (beginning, middle and end), and it's a black box space, so it's close to the audience. Though this one's shooting blanks, it's good to be reminded every now and again just why we should be scared of real guns in the wrong hands.) More information at minnesotashakes.blogspot.com
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Review - Phaedra's Love - Red Letter Theater - 3-1/2 stars
“If only there’d been more moments like this...”
An Open Letter to Select Fellow Audience Members...
Dear Viewers of Phaedra’s Love,
You were warned.
Repeatedly.
First of all, the script is based (loosely) on the legend of Phaedra and Hippolytus. Her name’s in the title. It’s a legend where a woman is in love with her stepson. Granted, in most of the source material nothing ever happens between them. He’s a grown man. They’re not related by blood. It’s only technically incestuous. But it’s a story about incest.
Secondly, the script is by Sarah Kane. This playwright had a history of mental illness, depression in particular, and ended up hanging herself - while in a hospital to get treatment. (It’s all right there in your program.) What kind of a play do you think a person with that going on in their brain is going to write? Incest, bleak world view, doesn’t exactly promise a garden of posies and hand-holding now does it?
Third, they actually made an announcement over the loudspeaker in the theater when the house opened that there would be adult content. A verbal warning. At the Bryant Lake Bowl. Seriously?
During the course of the 75 minutes, someone is raped (from behind) and has their throat slit, two people commit suicide, someone has their genitalia cut off, and one person is disemboweled (and takes forever to finally die).
But what really bothered you, apparently, were the blow jobs.
Simulated blow jobs.
At no point do we actually see a human penis, mind you. (Or a butt, or even a breast.)
The masturbation (into a sock) at the top of the show didn’t trouble you any.
But the blow jobs, well, that required you to get up and leave the theater.
Which actually would have been fine.
If you hadn’t come back five minutes later.
Twice.
Granted, neither of the blow jobs in question seemed like they were particularly pleasant for either of the parties involved.
And the second one seemed pretty gratuitous.
Which means (hilariously) that I must have perceived the first one to actually be germane to the plot.
But no one is particularly impressed with your righteous indignation, especially since it seems to be so incredibly short-lived.
“Well, I really can’t watch a fake blow job, but I have to see the rest of the play.”
Really?
Perhaps it was just your bladder calling you to the restroom, but the timing was fairly obvious.
Nothing - and I mean this, nothing on that stage was shocking.
Unless you’ve had your head up your own ass for the last ten years.
Between cable TV and the internet, Sarah Kane’s once incendiary taboo-smashing seems almost quaint.
So, if you know what you’re getting into, and even if you don’t, you’re not at home watching TV. If you’ll pardon the expression, suck it up, sit still, and watch the play. The rest of the audience can see you. The actors can see you. But you’re sitting in the dark. We all signed on for the same experience. Nobody cares if you’re offended. And nobody wants to watch you act out your own personal psychodrama.
Your behavior offended me far more than anything I saw on that stage the other night. Disrespect for artists and fellow audience members tends to rile me.
You were warned.
Repeatedly.
Get over yourself.
Oh. PS -
Blow me.
Now that I have that out of my system, how was the show?
Pretty damn good. The failings, I think, were more the fault of the script than the acting or directing. This was a well-executed showcase with which to launch a new theater company. Red Letter Theater couldn’t ask for a better calling card. Edgy script, regional premiere by name playwright, experienced (and in some cases also well-known) cast, sharp design - all very positive elements to have in the mix.
Heather Stone, fresh off her great work in the Fringe Festival as the title character in Sandbox Theatre’s “June of Arc,” here again plays the hapless title role in the festivities. Her Phaedra is wound pretty tight, and her impending undoing hangs like a cloud over the story at all times. Taking your eyes off her is almost impossible.
Jonathan Peterson does a fine three-part turn - first as the royal doctor, clinical and helpless; next as a well-meaning priest making a jail visitation (warning - gratuitous blow job alert); finally as the bereft and dangerously angry Theseus - home from abroad to find his wife dead and his son accused of having a large role in her fate. Peterson goes from supporting player to primal force at astonishing speed. He becomes the merciless hand of justice, and in this case justice is extremely blind, and deadly.
Nicholas Leeman has an uphill battle with the character of Hippolytus, since the playwright appears to be daring us to hate him (and the play) from the time the curtain opens. Hippolytus is slovenly, selfish, and uncaring of others’ feelings. He says and does awful things without a hint of remorse, often without even realizing their impact. Leeman’s character also got the lion’s share of the lines that had the audience gasping in disbelief, and the actor took full advantage of the ammunition he was given. The strange thing is that Leeman has the charisma that Hippolytus needs for us to buy that everyone’s so obsessed with him, but it’s almost as if he wasn’t allowed to use it. The performance is purposely tamped down, deadened, flattened out. Great for conveying ennui, not great for presenting an object of irrational desire. There are a couple of moments of genuine tenderness toward the very end when you almost like the guy (almost), but the vast majority of the time, compassion is not part of his makeup.
Here’s where it all kind of starts to come unglued - these characters are, at their most basic, just fundamentally annoying. They are people of means, of power, of leisure. It is only because they hold a lofty station in society that they have the luxury of becoming bored, oversexed, and obsessed. Boo-f*ckin’-hoo. Kane took these characters and made them human, but she also made them assholes. Poor Strophe (Larissa Shea) has the dubious honor of being the voice of reason for both her mother and stepbrother and everything she says is perfectly correct. She sees these people from the outside, and points out their absurdity. But she also leaves us no one to root for. This is where I think the script fails the actors and director. I don’t get the feeling they didn’t dig deeply enough, I just don’t think there’s any deeper to dig in this text. There is nothing noble about animals in heat, and that’s essentially what we’ve got here. It’s all instinct, no filters. People do colossally stupid things, and pay for it. But there’s no catharsis. These people aren’t falling from a great height. They’re already down in the gutter. They just poke their heads up for a moment and have them squashed back down again. They just have better clothes.
Speaking of better clothes, the design of “Phaedra’s Love” is great. The look of the production - set, props and costumes - is very sharp. When that red curtain first opens, Phaedra and Strophe are in black, head to toe, including their hair. The doctor and nurse, and all the set pieces (table, chairs, wheelchair, coat rack) are bright white. Hippolytus is in blue medical scrubs. There are red accents here and there, including a remote controlled toy car that has its own obscene cameo performance. Director David Hanzal concocted a vivid piece of design, which Megan Wannarka’s costumes and David Pipho’s wigs helped flesh out in a major way. It would be tempting to take short-cuts on the visuals when the words and acting are so central, but Red Letter wisely avoided that trap, giving the production a whole other layer of professionalism.
Not being acquainted with the script beforehand, it’s hard to tell whether the ending was a production choice or actually scripted the way it transpired. The reason I found myself questioning this is because of the way the production started. The play opens in silence, for several minutes, and nothing is explained to us. All the central characters and issues of the play, however, are made clear. Because there are no lines of dialogue, the audience is forced to watch closely, and make up their own minds who these people are and what’s going on. Because the physical language of the actors, and the visual language of the design are so clear and specific, we know what world we’re entering. It’s intense, and immediately draws the audience in.
Contrasting this silent opening, the end in this production is narrated by Phaedra (or rather, her spirit). But I had the nagging feeling that these were stage directions (very engaging stage directions, but stage directions nonetheless) being read to us, rather than actual lines. This wasn’t because of the performance. Stone gives us an anchor in the middle of the play’s final minutes of chaos by threading it all together with her voice. However, all the events of the end of the play, though chaotic, were clear without this narration. This again was partly due to acting, partly due to design. All the characters were clear from the way they were performed. Additionally, the costumes reinforced who was who - despite the fact that two of the actors were characters in disguise. The audience could tell who they were underneath. Again, we didn’t need the explanation. Even Phaedra could still appear, silently, and have her moment of reconciliation with Hippolytus, without the benefit of lines. Kane’s script, up until that sequence, never seemed to feel the need to explain itself or offer any kind of omniscient perspective, so I’m not sure I buy that she suddenly changed her writing tactics because she was worried it would be too hard for the audience to follow. Kane seems to demand that her audience pay attention and keep up. She doesn’t disregard the audience, but she gives them credit for a lot more than most scripts would. Because of that aesthetic on the part of the author, here it felt like instead it was the production which wasn’t trusting us to keep up and follow along. Whether it was indeed the script or the production’s choice, it felt strange to suddenly layer on that tissue of words over top of the action that late in the game. But there’s a lot of strange (good, bad, and indifferent) going on in “Phaedra’s Love,” so it’s probably a wash.
“Phaedra’s Love” was a one-weekend only affair, ending Sunday, August 30th at 7pm at the Bryant Lake Bowl. But after seeing this, I’m very interested to see what Red Letter Theater is up to next.
Recommended.
More information at www.redlettertheater.com
An Open Letter to Select Fellow Audience Members...
Dear Viewers of Phaedra’s Love,
You were warned.
Repeatedly.
First of all, the script is based (loosely) on the legend of Phaedra and Hippolytus. Her name’s in the title. It’s a legend where a woman is in love with her stepson. Granted, in most of the source material nothing ever happens between them. He’s a grown man. They’re not related by blood. It’s only technically incestuous. But it’s a story about incest.
Secondly, the script is by Sarah Kane. This playwright had a history of mental illness, depression in particular, and ended up hanging herself - while in a hospital to get treatment. (It’s all right there in your program.) What kind of a play do you think a person with that going on in their brain is going to write? Incest, bleak world view, doesn’t exactly promise a garden of posies and hand-holding now does it?
Third, they actually made an announcement over the loudspeaker in the theater when the house opened that there would be adult content. A verbal warning. At the Bryant Lake Bowl. Seriously?
During the course of the 75 minutes, someone is raped (from behind) and has their throat slit, two people commit suicide, someone has their genitalia cut off, and one person is disemboweled (and takes forever to finally die).
But what really bothered you, apparently, were the blow jobs.
Simulated blow jobs.
At no point do we actually see a human penis, mind you. (Or a butt, or even a breast.)
The masturbation (into a sock) at the top of the show didn’t trouble you any.
But the blow jobs, well, that required you to get up and leave the theater.
Which actually would have been fine.
If you hadn’t come back five minutes later.
Twice.
Granted, neither of the blow jobs in question seemed like they were particularly pleasant for either of the parties involved.
And the second one seemed pretty gratuitous.
Which means (hilariously) that I must have perceived the first one to actually be germane to the plot.
But no one is particularly impressed with your righteous indignation, especially since it seems to be so incredibly short-lived.
“Well, I really can’t watch a fake blow job, but I have to see the rest of the play.”
Really?
Perhaps it was just your bladder calling you to the restroom, but the timing was fairly obvious.
Nothing - and I mean this, nothing on that stage was shocking.
Unless you’ve had your head up your own ass for the last ten years.
Between cable TV and the internet, Sarah Kane’s once incendiary taboo-smashing seems almost quaint.
So, if you know what you’re getting into, and even if you don’t, you’re not at home watching TV. If you’ll pardon the expression, suck it up, sit still, and watch the play. The rest of the audience can see you. The actors can see you. But you’re sitting in the dark. We all signed on for the same experience. Nobody cares if you’re offended. And nobody wants to watch you act out your own personal psychodrama.
Your behavior offended me far more than anything I saw on that stage the other night. Disrespect for artists and fellow audience members tends to rile me.
You were warned.
Repeatedly.
Get over yourself.
Oh. PS -
Blow me.
Now that I have that out of my system, how was the show?
Pretty damn good. The failings, I think, were more the fault of the script than the acting or directing. This was a well-executed showcase with which to launch a new theater company. Red Letter Theater couldn’t ask for a better calling card. Edgy script, regional premiere by name playwright, experienced (and in some cases also well-known) cast, sharp design - all very positive elements to have in the mix.
Heather Stone, fresh off her great work in the Fringe Festival as the title character in Sandbox Theatre’s “June of Arc,” here again plays the hapless title role in the festivities. Her Phaedra is wound pretty tight, and her impending undoing hangs like a cloud over the story at all times. Taking your eyes off her is almost impossible.
Jonathan Peterson does a fine three-part turn - first as the royal doctor, clinical and helpless; next as a well-meaning priest making a jail visitation (warning - gratuitous blow job alert); finally as the bereft and dangerously angry Theseus - home from abroad to find his wife dead and his son accused of having a large role in her fate. Peterson goes from supporting player to primal force at astonishing speed. He becomes the merciless hand of justice, and in this case justice is extremely blind, and deadly.
Nicholas Leeman has an uphill battle with the character of Hippolytus, since the playwright appears to be daring us to hate him (and the play) from the time the curtain opens. Hippolytus is slovenly, selfish, and uncaring of others’ feelings. He says and does awful things without a hint of remorse, often without even realizing their impact. Leeman’s character also got the lion’s share of the lines that had the audience gasping in disbelief, and the actor took full advantage of the ammunition he was given. The strange thing is that Leeman has the charisma that Hippolytus needs for us to buy that everyone’s so obsessed with him, but it’s almost as if he wasn’t allowed to use it. The performance is purposely tamped down, deadened, flattened out. Great for conveying ennui, not great for presenting an object of irrational desire. There are a couple of moments of genuine tenderness toward the very end when you almost like the guy (almost), but the vast majority of the time, compassion is not part of his makeup.
Here’s where it all kind of starts to come unglued - these characters are, at their most basic, just fundamentally annoying. They are people of means, of power, of leisure. It is only because they hold a lofty station in society that they have the luxury of becoming bored, oversexed, and obsessed. Boo-f*ckin’-hoo. Kane took these characters and made them human, but she also made them assholes. Poor Strophe (Larissa Shea) has the dubious honor of being the voice of reason for both her mother and stepbrother and everything she says is perfectly correct. She sees these people from the outside, and points out their absurdity. But she also leaves us no one to root for. This is where I think the script fails the actors and director. I don’t get the feeling they didn’t dig deeply enough, I just don’t think there’s any deeper to dig in this text. There is nothing noble about animals in heat, and that’s essentially what we’ve got here. It’s all instinct, no filters. People do colossally stupid things, and pay for it. But there’s no catharsis. These people aren’t falling from a great height. They’re already down in the gutter. They just poke their heads up for a moment and have them squashed back down again. They just have better clothes.
Speaking of better clothes, the design of “Phaedra’s Love” is great. The look of the production - set, props and costumes - is very sharp. When that red curtain first opens, Phaedra and Strophe are in black, head to toe, including their hair. The doctor and nurse, and all the set pieces (table, chairs, wheelchair, coat rack) are bright white. Hippolytus is in blue medical scrubs. There are red accents here and there, including a remote controlled toy car that has its own obscene cameo performance. Director David Hanzal concocted a vivid piece of design, which Megan Wannarka’s costumes and David Pipho’s wigs helped flesh out in a major way. It would be tempting to take short-cuts on the visuals when the words and acting are so central, but Red Letter wisely avoided that trap, giving the production a whole other layer of professionalism.
Not being acquainted with the script beforehand, it’s hard to tell whether the ending was a production choice or actually scripted the way it transpired. The reason I found myself questioning this is because of the way the production started. The play opens in silence, for several minutes, and nothing is explained to us. All the central characters and issues of the play, however, are made clear. Because there are no lines of dialogue, the audience is forced to watch closely, and make up their own minds who these people are and what’s going on. Because the physical language of the actors, and the visual language of the design are so clear and specific, we know what world we’re entering. It’s intense, and immediately draws the audience in.
Contrasting this silent opening, the end in this production is narrated by Phaedra (or rather, her spirit). But I had the nagging feeling that these were stage directions (very engaging stage directions, but stage directions nonetheless) being read to us, rather than actual lines. This wasn’t because of the performance. Stone gives us an anchor in the middle of the play’s final minutes of chaos by threading it all together with her voice. However, all the events of the end of the play, though chaotic, were clear without this narration. This again was partly due to acting, partly due to design. All the characters were clear from the way they were performed. Additionally, the costumes reinforced who was who - despite the fact that two of the actors were characters in disguise. The audience could tell who they were underneath. Again, we didn’t need the explanation. Even Phaedra could still appear, silently, and have her moment of reconciliation with Hippolytus, without the benefit of lines. Kane’s script, up until that sequence, never seemed to feel the need to explain itself or offer any kind of omniscient perspective, so I’m not sure I buy that she suddenly changed her writing tactics because she was worried it would be too hard for the audience to follow. Kane seems to demand that her audience pay attention and keep up. She doesn’t disregard the audience, but she gives them credit for a lot more than most scripts would. Because of that aesthetic on the part of the author, here it felt like instead it was the production which wasn’t trusting us to keep up and follow along. Whether it was indeed the script or the production’s choice, it felt strange to suddenly layer on that tissue of words over top of the action that late in the game. But there’s a lot of strange (good, bad, and indifferent) going on in “Phaedra’s Love,” so it’s probably a wash.
“Phaedra’s Love” was a one-weekend only affair, ending Sunday, August 30th at 7pm at the Bryant Lake Bowl. But after seeing this, I’m very interested to see what Red Letter Theater is up to next.
Recommended.
More information at www.redlettertheater.com
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Shameless Plug of the Day - Good Boys
Thanks, MinnesotaPlaylist.com, or I'd have never known this one was happening...
The Minnesota Shakespeare Company is... not doing Shakespeare this month.
Instead, they're doing a play by another playwright about whom there is a lot of speculation but very few actual facts, Jane Martin.
The play is Good Boys.
Here's a bit of info off the MSC blog...
"Good Boys centers around the patriarchs of two families--one white, one African-American-- suffering eight years after a Columbine-like school massacre. Both lost sons, one of whom was the killer.
Good Boys was written by the mysterious Jane Martin, of whom little is known except her plays. It is speculated that she is Jon Jory, who directed every Jane Martin premiere, including the Good Boys premiere at the Guthrie Theatre.
The play concerns forgiveness. In the face of terrible guilt under terrible circumstances, a father seeks another father. One is a minister who has lost his vocation in the aftermath of his son's murder. The other father tries living a life after his son killed 8 students, and himself. It is a raw, tragic story, with Hope at play's end, appearing as a nuanced possibility.
Venue: THE LOWRY LAB, 360 St. Peter St., St Paul, MN, 55199--In the Lowry Building.
Dates: Friday, August 21 Sat, Aug 22 Sun, Aug 23 Fri, Aug 28 Sat, Aug 29 Sun, Aug 30 Fri, Sept 4 Sat, Sept 5 Sun, Sept 6 and Labor Day.
Show times: Fri, Sat eves at 7:30 PM; Sundays & Labor Day at 6:30 PM
Ticket prices: $20.00, with two for the price of one Saturday, August 22, and a Pay-what-you-can performance Labor Day.
Ticket phone: 651-786-9102
Ticket email: minnesotashakes@gmail.com. Please include your telephone number, your preferred date and number of tickets.
Website: minnesotashakes.blogspot.com"
From reports on the blog, they apparently had a great opening weekend crowd and discussion afterward.
The reason I'm really glad I found out about it is one of the cast members is Nick James Parker.
Nick portrayed Seth, the gay Marine who was part of the central couple in my play "Leave" last fall (in rehearsal right about this time last year). He's a big part of the reason the production was on Lavender's Top 10 List for Theater in 2008
He's a great fearless actor, and a pretty funny improv comedian when he's not hip-deep in a drama, and I'd go see him in pretty much anything.
And I'd recommend other people go see him in pretty much anything.
This would be no exception.
From the blog, it would seem he's the troubled kid with the gun and anger-management issues.
With luck, I should be able to catch their Saturday show. They run this weekend and next and then they're done.
If Nick's in it, I recommend it, sight unseen. But I'll report back once I have a chance to see it myself. Meantime, if you get a chance to see if for yourself - go.
The Minnesota Shakespeare Company is... not doing Shakespeare this month.
Instead, they're doing a play by another playwright about whom there is a lot of speculation but very few actual facts, Jane Martin.
The play is Good Boys.
Here's a bit of info off the MSC blog...
"Good Boys centers around the patriarchs of two families--one white, one African-American-- suffering eight years after a Columbine-like school massacre. Both lost sons, one of whom was the killer.
Good Boys was written by the mysterious Jane Martin, of whom little is known except her plays. It is speculated that she is Jon Jory, who directed every Jane Martin premiere, including the Good Boys premiere at the Guthrie Theatre.
The play concerns forgiveness. In the face of terrible guilt under terrible circumstances, a father seeks another father. One is a minister who has lost his vocation in the aftermath of his son's murder. The other father tries living a life after his son killed 8 students, and himself. It is a raw, tragic story, with Hope at play's end, appearing as a nuanced possibility.
Venue: THE LOWRY LAB, 360 St. Peter St., St Paul, MN, 55199--In the Lowry Building.
Dates: Friday, August 21 Sat, Aug 22 Sun, Aug 23 Fri, Aug 28 Sat, Aug 29 Sun, Aug 30 Fri, Sept 4 Sat, Sept 5 Sun, Sept 6 and Labor Day.
Show times: Fri, Sat eves at 7:30 PM; Sundays & Labor Day at 6:30 PM
Ticket prices: $20.00, with two for the price of one Saturday, August 22, and a Pay-what-you-can performance Labor Day.
Ticket phone: 651-786-9102
Ticket email: minnesotashakes@gmail.com. Please include your telephone number, your preferred date and number of tickets.
Website: minnesotashakes.blogspot.com"
From reports on the blog, they apparently had a great opening weekend crowd and discussion afterward.
The reason I'm really glad I found out about it is one of the cast members is Nick James Parker.
Nick portrayed Seth, the gay Marine who was part of the central couple in my play "Leave" last fall (in rehearsal right about this time last year). He's a big part of the reason the production was on Lavender's Top 10 List for Theater in 2008
He's a great fearless actor, and a pretty funny improv comedian when he's not hip-deep in a drama, and I'd go see him in pretty much anything.
And I'd recommend other people go see him in pretty much anything.
This would be no exception.
From the blog, it would seem he's the troubled kid with the gun and anger-management issues.
With luck, I should be able to catch their Saturday show. They run this weekend and next and then they're done.
If Nick's in it, I recommend it, sight unseen. But I'll report back once I have a chance to see it myself. Meantime, if you get a chance to see if for yourself - go.
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Shameless Plug of the Day - Phaedra's Love (this weekend only)
Another, yes another, scrappy little theater company rears its head in the Twin Cities this weekend. One weekend only, blink and you miss it.
Red Letter Theater is the brain child of young director David Hanzal. And he's amassed some pretty interesting collaborators, both on and offstage for this one. Not to mention he's already landed himself a grant to help get the production up on its feet. No shrinking violet, this one. Of course, it helps to have a regional premiere by an edgy (late) playwright in your back pocket as well.
The late playwright would be the troubled Sarah Kane. The edgy play being premiered is "Phaedra's Love."
Heather Stone, fresh off her great work in this year's Fringe as "June of Arc," is in the title role.
Nicholas Leeman, who I liked a whole lot in last Fringe's "Hue and Cry" and the Urban Samurai farce "Protection Program," is playing Phaedra's incestuous object of desire, Hippolytus.
But, as the press release makes clear, this ain't yer grandma's tragedy...
The tag line for the production is "Have you ever had a love that burned you?"
(No comment)
"Phaedra’s Love is Sarah Kane’s contemporary, radical reworking of Seneca’s classical tragedy. Hippolytus (Nicholas Leeman), the spoiled prince, is driven to a reclusive life. Emotions, love in particular, and need of any type are an unbearable threat to him. His uncontrollable sexual impulse, which would otherwise draw him into contact with others, must express itself in masturbation and the humiliation of his sexual partners."
OK....
"Phaedra (Heather Stone), his stepmother, is desperately in love with him. Her drive to submit herself to the impossibility of her desire, to lose herself within it, is the opposite of Hippolytus. Phaedra’s longing for Hippolytus forms the second of the twin impulses that move this contemporary royal family towards a violent destruction."
Yikes...
"With additional performances by Helen Buron, Kayla Hambek, Peter Heeringa, Eva Nelson, Jonathan Peterson, Steve Ramirez, Andrew Sass, Linda Saetre, Larissa Shea, this Red Letter production will also feature wigs by David Pipho, who previously designed for the Jungle Theater’s critically-acclaimed production of Hedwig and the Angry Inch, cutting-edge fashion designs by local artist Megan Wannarka, and an original score by experimental percussionist Dylan Jack."
This, on a stage in a black box where food is being served before, during & after the show, traffic whizzes by just outside the back wall, and there's a bowling alley just beyond the theater doors.
Damn, I love the Bryant Lake Bowl. And anyone brave enough to do theater there.
So, the details...
Performances at 7pm this Thursday, Friday, Saturday and Sunday, August 27, 28, 29 and 30. Doors at six for food and drink. At the BLB - 810 West Lake Street, Minneapolis.
Tickets $12, or $10 for students, seniors, and groups of 10 or more.
Call 612.825.8949 or go to www.bryantlakebowl.com for reservations.
More info on Red Letter Theater at www.redlettertheater.com
I'll be seeing it opening night, Thursday, and reporting back. But since it's the shortest of short runs, I wanted to give an early shout-out. What can I say? I'm intrigued. The first of my post-Fringe theater outings. Perhaps I'll see you there.
Red Letter Theater is the brain child of young director David Hanzal. And he's amassed some pretty interesting collaborators, both on and offstage for this one. Not to mention he's already landed himself a grant to help get the production up on its feet. No shrinking violet, this one. Of course, it helps to have a regional premiere by an edgy (late) playwright in your back pocket as well.
The late playwright would be the troubled Sarah Kane. The edgy play being premiered is "Phaedra's Love."
Heather Stone, fresh off her great work in this year's Fringe as "June of Arc," is in the title role.
Nicholas Leeman, who I liked a whole lot in last Fringe's "Hue and Cry" and the Urban Samurai farce "Protection Program," is playing Phaedra's incestuous object of desire, Hippolytus.
But, as the press release makes clear, this ain't yer grandma's tragedy...
The tag line for the production is "Have you ever had a love that burned you?"
(No comment)
"Phaedra’s Love is Sarah Kane’s contemporary, radical reworking of Seneca’s classical tragedy. Hippolytus (Nicholas Leeman), the spoiled prince, is driven to a reclusive life. Emotions, love in particular, and need of any type are an unbearable threat to him. His uncontrollable sexual impulse, which would otherwise draw him into contact with others, must express itself in masturbation and the humiliation of his sexual partners."
OK....
"Phaedra (Heather Stone), his stepmother, is desperately in love with him. Her drive to submit herself to the impossibility of her desire, to lose herself within it, is the opposite of Hippolytus. Phaedra’s longing for Hippolytus forms the second of the twin impulses that move this contemporary royal family towards a violent destruction."
Yikes...
"With additional performances by Helen Buron, Kayla Hambek, Peter Heeringa, Eva Nelson, Jonathan Peterson, Steve Ramirez, Andrew Sass, Linda Saetre, Larissa Shea, this Red Letter production will also feature wigs by David Pipho, who previously designed for the Jungle Theater’s critically-acclaimed production of Hedwig and the Angry Inch, cutting-edge fashion designs by local artist Megan Wannarka, and an original score by experimental percussionist Dylan Jack."
This, on a stage in a black box where food is being served before, during & after the show, traffic whizzes by just outside the back wall, and there's a bowling alley just beyond the theater doors.
Damn, I love the Bryant Lake Bowl. And anyone brave enough to do theater there.
So, the details...
Performances at 7pm this Thursday, Friday, Saturday and Sunday, August 27, 28, 29 and 30. Doors at six for food and drink. At the BLB - 810 West Lake Street, Minneapolis.
Tickets $12, or $10 for students, seniors, and groups of 10 or more.
Call 612.825.8949 or go to www.bryantlakebowl.com for reservations.
More info on Red Letter Theater at www.redlettertheater.com
I'll be seeing it opening night, Thursday, and reporting back. But since it's the shortest of short runs, I wanted to give an early shout-out. What can I say? I'm intrigued. The first of my post-Fringe theater outings. Perhaps I'll see you there.
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Incubator - Where Ideas Come From
Most of the time, it starts with a title.
Some of the time, the title comes from a song.
I get asked periodically if I have a script that's Fringe-length (over 30 minutes, under an hour).
The first time I got asked, I cobbled together four ten minute plays and came up with 2004's Dandelion Snow
One of the more recent times, I pulled a short play I last touched in 1998, and another whipped up with a friend in 2005, put them on the same bill and voila 2008's The Bronze Bitch Flies At Noon, and Dog Tag.
But I really don't have that perfectly Fringe-shaped one act in my arsenal. Most of my one acts, created by commission of one sort or another - Studpuppy, But Not For Love, Leave, Medea & Jason: Rubicon Waltz - all land in the 90 minute zone.
Most of my other ideas end up being full-length, two act affairs - Heaven & Home, The Hopes and Fears of All The Years, Love's Prick etc.
Most of my shorts were created for 10 minute play festivals, the Chicago Avenue Project and 24 hour play projects or Thirst and the Museum of Bad Art Plays. Too short to fill out a whole Fringe slot.
So I figured it was time I did something more deliberate, so the next time I get asked the question, I can say, "Why yes, I happen to have a script right here." Or two scripts, or three...
For some reason, for me, it normally starts with a title.
Some turns of phrase from well-worn songs have been dogging the corners of my mind of late, so I figured they were as good a place to start as any.
Most likely candidate at the moment...
Emmylou Harris, that great country crooner, teamed up with Del McCoury on the soundtrack to the film "You Can Count On Me" for an aching little ex-lover duet called "I'm Still In Love With You." Two people spotting each other in the crowd after a long time apart, at least one of them (if not both) going to this event quite deliberately on the chance they might run into the other. Emmylou kicks in on the second verse...
"There you are, right across the room from me
Just the way I knew you'd be
Looking lonesome, wild and blue..."
I love the idea of
Lonesome Wild and Blue
as a title for some reason
Next thing dogging me...
The Counting Crows song "The Rain King" was used by a theater out in LA as the final pre-show song before the opening of my play "Heaven and Home." About two thirds of the way through, they use the phrase...
The Burning Heart of God
I've been carrying that around in my head since the production back in 1997.
Coming in third right now...
The folk song "Stones In The Road" was sung by Joan Baez, but also by the person who wrote it, Mary-Chapin Carpenter. I listen to Carpenter a lot.
The bridge before the last verse includes...
"We drink our coffee on the run
We climb that ladder rung by rung
We are the daughters and the sons
And here's the line that's missing..."
And then the music continues with no words for four bars, the same track ticking by in the background.
I always liked that empty space
The Line That's Missing.
And on the content/substance front...
Finally, just a few days ago on the radio as I was driving home from the day job, I heard a story about town in California where a lot of Iraqi refugees were congregating. There was an English as a second language class being used as a framing device. As the story was winding down, the class could be heard in the background repeating phrases in unison...
"We are homesick"
"They are in love"
"I am hungry"
"She is nervous"
"He is confused"
Damn.
If I can't make something out of that, there's something wrong with me.
Bits and pieces.
Tucked in a folder on my computer called "Fringe Project"
Guess we'll see...
Some of the time, the title comes from a song.
I get asked periodically if I have a script that's Fringe-length (over 30 minutes, under an hour).
The first time I got asked, I cobbled together four ten minute plays and came up with 2004's Dandelion Snow
One of the more recent times, I pulled a short play I last touched in 1998, and another whipped up with a friend in 2005, put them on the same bill and voila 2008's The Bronze Bitch Flies At Noon, and Dog Tag.
But I really don't have that perfectly Fringe-shaped one act in my arsenal. Most of my one acts, created by commission of one sort or another - Studpuppy, But Not For Love, Leave, Medea & Jason: Rubicon Waltz - all land in the 90 minute zone.
Most of my other ideas end up being full-length, two act affairs - Heaven & Home, The Hopes and Fears of All The Years, Love's Prick etc.
Most of my shorts were created for 10 minute play festivals, the Chicago Avenue Project and 24 hour play projects or Thirst and the Museum of Bad Art Plays. Too short to fill out a whole Fringe slot.
So I figured it was time I did something more deliberate, so the next time I get asked the question, I can say, "Why yes, I happen to have a script right here." Or two scripts, or three...
For some reason, for me, it normally starts with a title.
Some turns of phrase from well-worn songs have been dogging the corners of my mind of late, so I figured they were as good a place to start as any.
Most likely candidate at the moment...
Emmylou Harris, that great country crooner, teamed up with Del McCoury on the soundtrack to the film "You Can Count On Me" for an aching little ex-lover duet called "I'm Still In Love With You." Two people spotting each other in the crowd after a long time apart, at least one of them (if not both) going to this event quite deliberately on the chance they might run into the other. Emmylou kicks in on the second verse...
"There you are, right across the room from me
Just the way I knew you'd be
Looking lonesome, wild and blue..."
I love the idea of
Lonesome Wild and Blue
as a title for some reason
Next thing dogging me...
The Counting Crows song "The Rain King" was used by a theater out in LA as the final pre-show song before the opening of my play "Heaven and Home." About two thirds of the way through, they use the phrase...
The Burning Heart of God
I've been carrying that around in my head since the production back in 1997.
Coming in third right now...
The folk song "Stones In The Road" was sung by Joan Baez, but also by the person who wrote it, Mary-Chapin Carpenter. I listen to Carpenter a lot.
The bridge before the last verse includes...
"We drink our coffee on the run
We climb that ladder rung by rung
We are the daughters and the sons
And here's the line that's missing..."
And then the music continues with no words for four bars, the same track ticking by in the background.
I always liked that empty space
The Line That's Missing.
And on the content/substance front...
Finally, just a few days ago on the radio as I was driving home from the day job, I heard a story about town in California where a lot of Iraqi refugees were congregating. There was an English as a second language class being used as a framing device. As the story was winding down, the class could be heard in the background repeating phrases in unison...
"We are homesick"
"They are in love"
"I am hungry"
"She is nervous"
"He is confused"
Damn.
If I can't make something out of that, there's something wrong with me.
Bits and pieces.
Tucked in a folder on my computer called "Fringe Project"
Guess we'll see...
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