Tasty Theatre Teachings

Well…today’s post marks 23 days until I make the big move to NYC. OK, technically I am spending a quick week in El Paso beforehand, but you get the idea. It is a mighty gloomy day in NOLA. Dark clouds and the imminent smell of rain in the air. I was planning to go to the WWII Museum today, but as this atmosphere has always been more conducive to curling up in a comfy bed, I am “relaxing” at home until I am needed to scoop ice cream to sweet-toothed Lakeview-ers.

Lend Me a Tenor @ Tulane University, New Orleans

www.tulane.edu/~theatre/

Anyone will tell you that I absolutely hate setting foot on my ol’ Alma Mater stomping grounds. I feel that as a graduate I should have better places to hang out than the college I once went to. The two exceptions to this rule are checking books out of the library (thanks to a fluke in the system that still lists me as a staff member from my summer stint with the Shakespeare Festival last year) and seeing shows in the department. This was the last show of the department’s season and I thankfully had a Sunday off to see it.

As you might have guessed, I am pretty critical of what I see. I can’t, however, approach this production with the same eyes that I have used for my other posts. This is a college production. No one is yet a “professional”. No one is getting paid (rather, they are paying tuition to be in the dang show). Each designer, performer, and technician is still in a place of growth. But, you may ask yourself, isn’t every artist in a place of growth when they attempt to create something? I sure hope so. But I will focus on the process of this piece more than the product. When I see a university or school production, I am looking to see strides forward from everyone involved. Each performer should leave the show with more tools, knowledge, and insight than when he entered it. Now, that can be hard to judge if you are seeing the show in an isolated context. The way to solve that problem? Go see more theatre. Obviously. But being a graduate of the Tulane department of theatre and dance gave me the chance to know approximately where each actor was before the rehearsal process began.

Let me tell you. I as pleasantly surprised. And very proud.  It had great pacing, great ensemble work, and actors knew how to use their voices and their bodies (a critical but seemingly unattainable skill in younger, hell, even older performers). Actors who usually ham it up brought a subtlety to their performance that paid off in major laughs. I saw selfish actors really listening onstage and trying to share the job of keeping the ball in the air rather than stealing it. And as I believe that the process directly reflects in the product, I am certain that each actor would tell me that it was a satisfying ride start to finish. Was I in the rehearsal room? No. Do I know how much give and take between designer and director and director and actor there was? No. Was this a perfect-OMG-best-show-I-will-ever-see-in-my-life? No. Was it a pretty good (maybe even great) show? Yes. Did some people learn something? You bet. Finally! How wonderful! A show giving its creators and artists as much as it should give its audiences. And so, for a college production, I call that one hell of a success.

This seems like the perfect time to expand your literary knowledge. I am currently reading (among many other books) The American Theatre Reader: Essays and Conversations from American Theatre Magazine.¹ I was fascinated by an article in it called ‘How Does Your Garden Grow?’ where David Byron conversed with  actors/teachers who believe “that the training of actors is not just important, it’s relevant—both within a proscenium and on the world stage—now more than ever” (pg 522). Here are some highlights that struck me for you to chew over.

DAVID BYRON: How were you first exposed to acting and how did it change your life?

F. MURRAY ABRAHAM: An acting teacher saved my life: Lucia P. Hutchens, El Paso, TX, right on the border of Mexico. I was scattered and a little crazy, and in some trouble…I was just a fuck-up. I’d been to jail a couple of times and was barely making it through school. I was taking the easiest classes I could. One of them was speech and drama—it sounded like a simple thing, and I always liked to tell jokes and there couldn’t be much homework, I supposed. I got in that class and she saw something. She said, “Read this out to the class.” My first brush with Shakespeare, at 17 years old.

Literature wasn’t a big part of my family’s life. But she praised me and talked about the school play. That was it, as soon as I stepped on stage. It’s as simple as that. But the fact that she took the time, to me that’s a real gift. Amazing. It was great, great good fortune. How else would I have become associated with the theatre? It was not a part of my blue-collar family at all. My father was a mechanic. We were steel-workers, coal miners and farmers. I feel it saved my life. (pg 522)

BYRON: Why teach if you don’t need to?

OLYMPIA DUKAKIS: It’s a great adventure. You know the thing Tennessee Williams says: “Make voyages, there’s nothing else. (pg 525)

BYRON: Is the actor a proactive, creative force, not only on the stage  but in society as a whole?

FLOYD KING: It’s the playwright who’s the proactive one. We’re the interpreters; it’s not our words, it’s not our thoughts, it’s not our principles that we put up there on the stage. It’s the playwright’s. If we’re doing our job right, that’s what we’re serving. If anyone’s going to change the world, it’s going to be the playwright. (pg 526)

BYRON: Will acting and teaching of acting continue to be relevant in the years to come?

FIONA SHAW: I think that studying acting is a beautiful way of investigating the unacceptable, and it produces compassion, it produces understanding. It celebrates human nature even at its worst, and I think that’s of brilliant value—that humans don’t have to die in the darkness of ignorance. That’s not going to change.

KING: Not all these students are going to be actors, but they’re going to be audiences—and they’re going to be educated audiences. They’ll see the magic, but they’ll also be able to see the craft.

ABRAHAM: But these kids, you’re really giving them something that is so hard for them to find outside of our little protected enclave, because their parents and grandparents and friends think they are damn fools. This is not so much an encouragement as an affirmation: “It’s okay, you can have your dream for as long as it lasts, as long as you understand that if you leave the business or the process of studying, when you leave—and this is very important—it’s not been wasted time. None of it is wasted” (pg 528)

1The American Theatre Reader: Essays and Conversations from American Theatre Magazine, Edited by the Staff of American Theatre Magazine, Theatre Communications Group: New York, 2009.

A Morsel of Marigny Theatre

I’ve really got to find a time other than really-really late to compose these blogs. But since I made breakfast for dinner (french toast, bacon, grapes, and juice if you were curious) my body thinks it’s time to start the day and my brain is buzzing like an angry hoard of bees. Or any other buzzing-type creature. Maybe dragonflies? They are less likely to sting you.

Little Murders @ The Marigny Theatre, New Orleans

www.cripplecreekplayers.org

My roommate was cast in a play with the Cripple Creek Theatre Company, and as a good friend and lover of theatre, I was obliged (happily, of course) to check it out. Cripple Creek is a company who is set out to produce “dramatic works of cultural, historical, and political relevance in order to provoke the general public into social action”. Brave and valiant goals as a theatre company. I was in the library today and came across a book called All Theatre is Revolutionary Theatre. I didn’t pick it up (as I have a stack of seven plus books high I am already reading) but it reminded me of Cripple Creek’s mission. A mission of action inciting action. And Little Murders by Jules Feiffer is a good fit. I appreciate a theatre company, or any group/business for that matter, that really decides on a clear vision and attempts to articulate and manifest that. When I start a theatre company, a strong and honest mission statement will be top priority. Anyhoo, the play. Well. I would say it’s farcical and over-the-top in the writing. The situations are a little outrageous and the world Feiffer paints is violent and quick-paced. But, and this is my aesthetic taste, it seems the actors layered weird upon weird. Over-the-top acting on top of an over-the-top script. It made the play ring confusing, and the parts that contained clarity rang false. All plot aside, I would say the play is about change. The difficulty and violence of change. One character exhausted by the amount of unsolved murders in a small amount of time declares: “I need some logical explanation.” Another cries: “I don’t understand anything anymore”. The little murders of this show are those of bullets bursting through vital organs but also the little murders we commit against our true selves, against the institution, against society. The play was certainly relevant. I like that when I ask my favorite questions: why this play? why here? why now? that I have very clear answers from this theatre company. Why this play? It speaks to an audience who live in a very uncertain time when government and business seems blurred and where our institutions aren’t always left standing in difficult times. Why here? Why now? New Orleans is a violent place. Read any of the crime statistics. Our local politicians are a farce in their perceived (and sometimes actual) corruption. Cripple Creek chose very wisely with their audience in their mission in mind.

The play itself…I was neutral. I was confused about the world, the landscape of the play and the falseness of the broad-strokes acting didn’t catch my attention and keep it there. There was too much movement and quick speaking. Not enough stillness and silence. You can’t keep the audience on a 60 mph roller coaster for two hours. Someone is going to throw up. The actress playing Patsy Newquist was incredible, though. This girl knew exactly what she was doing. It was still a bit pushed, but there was pure commitment and clean execution; I was willing to swallow it with a silver spoon and ask for seconds.

At the end of the day, my biggest question mark remains: “what were they trying to say”? I am all for painting the canvas blue and letting the people who view it have a reaction they can define for themselves, but I also believe an artist has to have a clear viewpoint on what they want to accomplish. The audience then digests it, and can choose to agree with or contradict or question or rave at what they’ve experienced. I left the theatre confused. Was the play rooting for these little murders? Was the play saying that we all in some twisted way kill on a daily basis? Was it a cautionary tale against taking down an institution if you are not prepared to actually live without it? I’m not sure. The play made no statement with which I could grapple. Just a blur of loud noises, gestures, and gunshots.

Cripple Creek has a strong mission and showed me the power in really understanding an artistic point of view and an audience. I think they missed the boat a little once this play got on its feet. Lost in translation, if you will. I have no doubt however at the power this strong vision will have in the plays to come.

Notes on a Friday Feast of Theatre Part 2

Though it may be a tad too late to be completely coherent, I have a long day tomorrow and another show to see. As a slight side-note, I had a very rude customer today at the ice cream shop who asked me if I was dumb and spoke rather harshly towards me. This artist’s ideal situation would be to pay her rent with her art, but until then I am working as an ice cream scooper. Today, with 31 days until the move to New York, I am more ready than ever to pursue a life of financial and culinary satisfaction purchased by the great theatre I want to make.

Matt & Ben @ Le Chat Noir, New Orleans

www.Theatre-13.com

So after I saw With a Bang last week, I booked it over to Le Chat Noir, a small cabaret space on St. Charles to see the late-night show offering of Theatre 13. Theatre 13 is a group founded by Gary Rucker and Kelly Fouchi as a side project of FourFront Theatre here in New Orleans. Unlike FourFront, whose mission is to bring Broadway quality musicals to NOLA, Theatre 13 is bring New Orleans off-Broadway fare of sorts. With a focus on giving local theatre artists opportunities and moola. There is a donation bucket placed outside the theatre doors each night after the performance to help compensate the actors. My friend Andrew (a local actor himself) once began to pull money out of his pants pocket and placed it right back in. “This is me paying a local artist.”

But all valiant efforts to eradicate starving artist syndrome aside…the show. Matt & Ben by Mindy Kalling and Brenda Withers. All right, lady playwrights. This was a small show that fit perfectly in the intimate space that is Le Chat Noir. Two women and lots of laughs. Pure fluff and entertainment. With a little crumble of a moral about the importance of friendship over blind ambition. It tells the outrageous story of how Matt Damon and Ben Affleck came to write Good Will Hunting. Both actresses (yes, ladies play these two goofball Bostonian best friends) were so sharp and smart. Picked up cues. Specific actions. Good focus. Wonderful comic timing. And the director deserves a nod for really understanding how to block a story so well on that weird stage that is so narrow and long.

But what I really want to focus on is JD Salinger and pudding. In the play, Ben Affleck is more concerned with adapting Catcher in the Rye than dealing with the magical Hunting screenplay that has fallen from their apartment ceiling fully written with both his and Damon’s name on it. The actress playing Damon dons a cap and gown and the airs of the late Mr. Salinger (who, since this play is set in ’95 was still alive) and drops by the apartment to declare that Affleck will never get the rights he needs to adapt Catcher and should just give it up. He also asks for pudding. A New York Times article reviewing the SITI Company’s production of Bobrauschenbergamerica said this about a scene where Ellen Lauren eats an entire cake onstage: “Aspiring comic actresses could take a lesson: it’s not just the eating of almost an entire cake onstage that’s funny, it’s how you eat it.”1 Our JD Salinger must have gotten an A in that acting lesson. She ate that pudding in ways I never would have imagined. But with precision. And…purpose, I suppose. And after she has completed her rant, she stuffs it under the couch cushions and vanishes. Comic brilliance. I wanted to applaud then and there (and I can count on my two hands how many times I’ve felt the urge to do that).

Which brings me to what was so tasty about this show. Will it ever win a Pulitzer? Nope. Edward Albee’s taken them all. Will it remain a staple of the American songbook of theatre as it were? Nope. Probably not. But was this show an entertaining simple night of good ol’ fashion storytelling? You betcha. Perhaps the search for great art lies in taking theatre out of the category of “high art” and bringing it back more to the ritual and dirt of storytelling. Campfires and dust and communal dancing and singing. All to come together to enjoy the company of your community and to hear a story that makes you happy. Each show you create/produce does not have to be earth-shattering, perhaps. Or change the world its opening weekend. Theatre needs to exist for a multitude of purposes in order to speak to the multitudes and complexities of the human life. And that includes theatre whose sole purpose it to provide an escape from a harsh reality and to purely entertain. I may not be the artist to make it. But I can appreciate it. And man, if the line of theatre that is fluffy and fun is as crisp and clean as the production of Matt & Ben I saw last Friday, then break open the pudding and give me a spoon. I will eat that up.

And I will leave the empty cup crushed under your couch cushion if I damn well please.

1THEATRE REVIEW: A Collage of Sly Tricks in Honor of a Collagist by Neil Genzlinger, New York Times, October 16, 2003, <http://theater.nytimes.com/mem/theater/treview.html?res=9A00E2DE163EF935A25753C1A9659C8B63>

Notes on a Friday Feast of Theatre Part 1

OK. In a very short amount of time, I have had two revelations about this blog. One: It takes a lot of work to update it. Between getting ready to move to NYC and working over 40 hours a week with my lovely jazz singer and at an ice cream shop, I don’t have a lot of free time. But take heart, gentle readers, (all two of you) I will do my best. Two: I am beginning to see this food metaphor may get old fast. I am testing my sharp wit I suppose.

With a Bang @ Southern Rep, New Orleans

www.southernrep.com

Now I can get into some slippery territory here because I am approaching this theatrical piece with a critical eye. To the artists who created and contributed to the production, kudos. Because to get a show from the mind of the playwright (or collaborative team or whoever) to the stage and in front of an audience is worth its own evening of ovations. OK. With a Bang is a dark comedy summarized by the Southern Rep website like this: “Our young heroine, Margaret, finds out that her father has died…again. When she’s confronted by one very awkward messenger who vehemently denies being an angel, Margaret realizes she must take on her father’s mission – to save the world.” The poster is photoshopped to look like a comic book. And the dramaturgical wall of the lobby is filled with images of iconic comics and graphic novels. So I come to the show with some expectations: that, perhaps, the show will feel like a gorgeous graphic novel brought to life, and being a lover of the dark comedy genre, I will laugh. A lot.

I usher and bartend for a free ticket and flip through the program. I really think this is the theatre artist’s first connection with its audience. A piece from the Artistic Director note peaks my interest: “…at last, epic theatre with TWO women at the center!” And a few more expectations are added: I will see strong women characters carrying forward, and that this is not only a comic book, but epic theatre. Epic in what sense? Big, expansive, showy, mythological? Not sure yet, but epic.

I don’t want to give you a play by play of the show. Go see it for yourself! Support your local theatre scene! But I want to share my impressions and thoughts. Here are some of my notes I wrote in the program during intermission:

-Darkness serves as a very prominent character

-I am watching this show with almost a completely adult (over 45) audience and I am laughing way more than they are; if this is a comic book, have they lost their magic for adults?

-Scenic changes are long but beautifully stylized; the most comic book-esque moments so far…

-If this is the end of the world, I want more tension

The show and my expectations didn’t really line up. It had the darkness and rough element of some of my favorite graphic novels, but the scenic changes and the posing of the actors at curtain call were as close as it got. Now, do I expect a comic book onstage? Not necessarily. But with how it was marketed to me, I expected more of that look and feeling. I laughed a whole lot in the second act with John Boy’s character. But the laughs seemed hard to get otherwise. I guess I would characterize this show more quirky than comedic. But quirky is not a theatrical genre (yet), so comedy is closest. As far as my expectation to see female characters in control and at the center, I don’t quite agree with this. Margaret (our heroine) is constantly at the hands of the male characters in the play, from her father to Halbick to each of the other creatures she meets along the way. It reminded very much of Alice in Alice in Wonderland. She has no say in where she goes or what she does when she gets there. Halbick even apologizes at one point for giving her the impression that she has a choice in fulfilling her father’s mission. To be fair, she makes a choice at the end. But only at the very end. And as far as the anti-heroine Dani goes, she is merely a conflict device to muddle the good intentions of the not-angel Halbick. She slices, kills, and disappears. It is my impression by how the story was told onstage, Halbick was the center of the epic, moving the plot forward using Margaret as a wheel and swerving to avoid Dani, our metaphorical pothole. The show did indeed feel epic in that we moved through this dark world quickly and expansively. And as the lights consumed the world in the final moments, I felt part of something really big. But this epic was composed of little moments. Which is the only way one can get through a long journey. One step at a time.

There was also a moment in the play that bothered me immensely. The dream sequence. One of the most important and symbolic parts of any epic. It was told by our charming not-angel in paper clip pants and with masked and hooded actors. There was dancing, puppetry, silly gags, and elbow acting. It was acknowledged by Halbick that it was low budget, but it read as ridiculous. And sloppy. It should be a persuasion. This is structurally the turning point for Margaret. It is after this dream that she decides to take up her mission. If I am not convinced by this dream, why would I believe Margaret is?

So….to end this long word vomiting session, did this satisfy the artist and audience member in me? Yes and no. Yes in that I am pro new works and in a world where most regional theatres require submission through a literary agent, I am happy to see playwright Pete McElligott have a chance to speak. Yes because it was, for the most part, entertaining. Yes because there was great amounts of craft and care from all parties involved. No because as hard as it is, a small house is no excuse for low energy performances. No because playing up darkness too much leads to this audience member losing important dialogue and interest in scenes. No because it seems style won over story, and it is my opinion that storytelling is a key function of the theatre. Yes because, despite the things I didn’t like about it, it stuck with me long enough to discuss it with my roommates and write a blog about it. There needs to be more theatre that eats at our brains long after the house lights come up.

Hope You’re Hungry!

Banu Gibson and the New Orleans Hot Jazz

www.banugibson.com

In addition to preparing for my move to NYC to pursue my MA in Performance Studies at NYU, I also am the office manager/assistant for a wonderful jazz singer Banu Gibson. She and her band performed at the New Orleans French Quarter Festival (which I found out yesterday is the largest free music festival in the country…way to go, us!) and I served as CD seller and video recorder. It was a phenomenal thing to watch. People from all over the country and even Norway came just to see Banu. She really cultivates a relationship with her audience. She takes time to speak to each of them and makes them feel like the important people they are. After all, no audience, no performance. Plain and simple. Some of the highlights of the afternoon was Banu getting a request from the crowd to sing Happy Birthday to a Karen. One would have thought by the way they bantered back and forth that they were life-long friends. There was also a very emotional moment for Banu and her band. One of her longest fans, Bob, has recently passed away and his family brought his ashes back to NOLA to spread them around his favorite city in the world. She dedicate the heart-melting Do You Know What it Means to Miss New Orleans? to the memory of Bob. Not a dry eye in the courtyard of Jackson Square. I can’t speak for the rest of the audience, but I couldn’t help but feel I had lost Bob along with his family. That is powerful stuff. And on top of her ability to connect with her audience, Banu and her band swung hard and jazzed the pants off their set. (Though she told me afterward she wished they had done better….musicians are just as perfectionist as theatre-people it seems)

So…the question is (because as an aspiring dramaturg, my main objective is to question) did this experience feed me in some way? I am going to say yes. Now, I feel I need to confess that I am one critical curmudgeon, but I do not have the knowledge or finesse of music that Banu does or people who have studied music theory and/or performance. And it is my belief that the best critics are those who really understand on multiple dimensions. So I can’t truthfully approach this from a critical standpoint, per se, just from an audience’s. As an audience member, I was engaged and really drawn into the music and personality of the performers. Plus, the New Orleans sun was shining down and there was plenty of Abita and crawfish pies to go around. And as a self-proclaimed local, I felt so proud to share our special music and feeling and culture with the tourists.

Excellent Actor-Audience Relationship.

The Feeling of a Strong Community.

Jazz Music.

Sunshine.

Beer.

Delicious.

I’m Starving!

OK. Well, not literally. I had leftover red beans and rice from Popeye’s this morning. But in an artistic sense…that’s a totally different story. If I may botch a Shakespeare quote for my own purposes for a moment: “If good theatre be the food of life, play on!” (and then tell me where it’s playing because my stomach is grumbling). This is not to say that good theatre does not exist. It surely does. But there is not enough of it. And you can’t find it just anywhere. This is my search to find good theatre/art/music/ritual/dance/play/sport to feed my hungry belly and mind.