EDGE Leaps Into The Woods

Into The WoodsApril 3rd kicked off the second weekend of EDGE Theatre’s Into The Woods, the classic Sondheim musical that needs no introduction. This show is no stranger to giant opera houses or Midwestern community prosceniums, but this production at Mary’s Attic showed me that the intimate spaces of storefront theater is where Into The Woods needs to be.

It’s the curse and blessing of Sondheim to sound effortless and simple when done well, and this cast proves that very point. The eponymous opening number started a little uneasily, with some unsure physicality and weak recitatives (a common symptom of second-week performances) but everything turned around with the explosively dynamic entrance of the Witch (Sarah Sapperstein). Whether cued off of her energy or simply falling into place around that time, the entire cast clicked, delivering easy-yet-powerful commitment until final curtain.

Herein lies the beauty of the intimate (meaning small) space. The fourth wall is a thin skein at best, as with many musicals, and when these performers sing to us, it’s like a well-mastered soliloquy: we are invited into their private thoughts. Given the gorgeously conversational nature of many of Sondheim’s songs, I shudder to see this musical again without that intimacy. Director Emma Couling seems to have a strong understanding of when the Masks we wear are down or up, and this is clearly shown when the characters choose to sing to us or over us; whether they are patter-singing or using sustain (this was particularly well demonstrated by Sarah Sarka’s Cinderalla).

The Baker and his Wife are generally considered the leads of this ensemble show, and Aaron Sarka and Sydney Ray provide subtly nuanced images of each. Sarka gives us a confident, strong portrayal of a very unsure and unconfident man who only finds his strength after losing (almost) everything. Ray gives the Wife a light touch, creating a soft and warm mother-to-be, who in turn becomes wilder and delightfully unsure in her closing scenes.

In a cast full of powerful physical commitment, special mention goes to Mario Aivazian’s Jack, who fires his focus like a gun in the first act, and the Princes (Stephan Scalabrino and Nick Toussaint): each man knows his role and plays it to the proverbial hilt, and when they share the stage it transforms into a laugh-factory. Sadly, Aivazian seems less sure with the subtleties of the second act, and Toussaint’s Prince Charming arguably loses an opportunity to show some dimension in “Any Moment” and “Moments In The Woods” (where Sydney Ray shines brightest). Both princes, however, hint gently in their final scenes that a greater complexity hides beneath their masks.

The jewels of this ensemble are Nick Stockwell’s Narrator and Sapperstein’s Witch. Stockwell alone maintains precise focus in the shaky first minute or two of the opening, creating a straight-line contrast throughout to the wilderness and passion surrounding him: his physical alterations when doubling as the Old Man were strong and natural. Sapperstein, in addition to her bottomless well of commitment, demonstrates an amazing vocal variety and strength to be envied by any character actor (and singer) and conjures shivers more than once in her solos.

Ashley Woods’ costume design serves to beautify, demarcate, and foreshadow. Jack’s dopey ‘getup’ from the comedic first act is replaced by something simpler, grayer, and darker in the complex second act. The Witch’s ragged mane and Commedia-esque mask distances us from the character while foreshadowing her transformation into a beautiful young woman (which elicited an admiring “Oh!” from the audience member behind me). The costumes triumphed most during the Wife/Charming duets, when Ray’s soft, muted dress  contrasted with Toussaint’s sharp, glossy doublet. Despite my earlier commentary on the potential for complexity here, Toussaint’s direct veneer is marvelously echoed in his glamourous costume, and Ray’s muddied uncertainty (and pleasure) are likewise paralleled in her appearance.

The one failing in costuming was the Old Man. Simple additions to the Narrator’s clothing, all in the same colour pallet, were of little effect; and Stockwell (despite valiant efforts) was unable to overcome his striking appearance to instantly show us that he was playing a different person. Despite this, he and everyone else did look very good in their roles.

The set (designed/constructed by Stockwell) was simple, efficient, and functional: just how I like them. The levels provided the usual visual contrasts expected in musicals and prevented the unraked audience from being problematic. John Gleason Teske’s props were a perfect compromise between the set’s functionality and the costumes’ representational beauty. Milky White (who must be mentioned) was hilariously tiny, and her size was well utilized.

The Bakers’ Scarf also must be remarked upon. It was used to brilliantly moving effect by the Baker family. Some people deserve some medals for that one.

Into The Woods has been done and redone and done again, and surely everyone has an opinion on how it aught to be staged. This production is not for those who like their musicals full of flashy illusion and artifice, like the movies. Indeed, in Couling’s production even the blackouts are not total, and there is a seemingly deliberate attempt to remind the audience that we are watching a play with a message (which is, after all, what we’re doing). The actors do enter the audience space a bit too often (a mistake I’ve committed myself), but it’s a minor inconvenience that, once again, reminds you of your role in this performance: an active observer. The limitations of the small space and budget seem deliberately supplemented by James Lapine’s text; that, or Couling just knows how to use the script. Everything serves to create a diverse and very accessible story told by one entity to another.

Into The Woods is playing at Mary’s Attic (5400 N Clark Street) April 4th, 6th, 10th, 11th, and 12th at 7pm, with 3pm matinees April 6th and 13th. Tickets are $15. There is an easily accessible bar, and even a drinking game for those of us who know the show best.

I recommend this show heartily.

Reviews, Theater Stuff

Mozart Was Well Received

Amadeus Banner FB New

Two things:

1. As a rule, I do not read theater reviews until a show has closed.

2. I am exceptionally vain.

After being assured a couple times that good things were being said about Amadeus, I broke down like my old ’89 Mustang and checked out a couple of reviews.

“Jared McDaris is intoxicating as a show-stealing Mozart: brash, crude and shamelessly egotistical, but also charming, funny and passionate. Even more impressive, McDaris captures the emotional depth of a character who rightly tells us that while ‘my tongue is stupid, my heart isn’t.’ ” – Mike Fischer, JS Online (McDaris’s Mozart Hits Right Notes In World’s Stage’s Amadeus)

“[Gretchen Mahkorn] and McDaris have good chemistry, and the scenes they share — some infectiously joyous and others heartbreaking — are consistently convincing.” – Mike Fischer again, JS Online (McDaris’s Mozart Hits Right Notes In World’s Stage’s Amadeus)

“McDaris does a really good job of bringing a very human and very passionate artist to the stage.” – Russ Bickerstaff, Express Milwaukee (A Close-Up For Amadeus and Salieri)

So that was pretty cool. Mozart is surprisingly exhausting, despite the fact that he has maybe one-fifth of the lines that Salieri has (maybe less), and as much as I like to pretend I’m above public accolades, at the end of the day I’m as susceptible to praise as anyone else.

Keep It Together.

Theater Stuff

Countess Bathory

The First Draft of Countess Bathory is complete! Even better, it’s my shortest Verse play yet.

Modeled loosely on Richard III, Bathory takes all the myths and exaggerated rumor as fact, and paints the Blood Countess as an abusive, unstable fiend. She is harried by misogyny, religious persecution, and the machinations of those that owe her family money; but for all that she is as guilty as the rumor-mongers say.

Bathory is the fourth play in a seven-part series: King Saul Part I, A Thousand Times Goodnight, King Saul Part II, Countess Bathory, The Wayward Women, Sycorax, and The Passion of Boudicca. Five of these plays are ‘about’ women, though only two of them have predominantly female casts. I suppose this is my guilty reaction to the King Saul plays, which feature only three small female roles. In any event, I started this project to create more Verse opportunities, and there’s no one who needs more Verse opportunities than the average female actor.

Countess Bathory, Theater Stuff

Lightning Strikes Again With The Chicago Mammals

I’ve seen only four Mammals shows to date, but I’ve loved every one. In ALL GIRL FRANKENSTEIN, the small Chicago company once again creates grounded yet eccentric characters of powerfully compelling quality.

As the name implies, THE ALL GIRL PROJECT aims to give female actors an opportunity to play great literary and dramatic characters traditionally reserved for men. Gender and sex commentary are not the center-point, nor (as near as I can tell) is any special focus drawn to the gynocentric casting. This alone would make the show worth supporting, and it bears noting that the actors playing these roles are very much in their characters: there are no male caricatures or basso bravados, only serious physical acting. However, these accomplishments pale in comparison to the quality of the show itself.

Ultimately, great acting is all a show needs to succeed, and FRANKENSTEIN delivers. Erin Myers is a focal point of power as Victor Frankenstein and grounds us in emotional truth early (and vitally) in the performance. Sarah Koerner serves as the primary female presence in the play (Victor’s adoptive cousin-of-sorts and love interest), and she gives us a simultaneously fluid and shocking arc between the only two roles allowed to women in the Victorian era: from an innocent yet ambitious ingenue into a formidable reflection of Frankenstein’s own mother (Julie Cowden, the mother in question, is an equally powerful and equally important presence at the play’s beginning). And in a cast full of beautiful, mature voices and strong physicality, it’s Amy E. Harmon and Erin Elizabeth Orr who take the prizes as the Creature and Henry Clerval (the Frankenstein family’s ward). Orr’s Clerval is centered in his discomfort (he’s very clearly in an alien world that does not want him), capable of contracting upon himself or exploding away from a threat at a moment’s notice. Harmon’s Creature, perhaps because speech is a novel challenge for him, takes his time and speaks with purpose: Harmon imbues every word with significance.

The Mammals’ production values, meanwhile, are as non-pareiled as ever. The set (designed by John Wilson, and masterfully executed) makes great use of levels and immediately evokes the “Victorian narrative” mood rightly associated with Frankenstein and its ilk, while still giving special emphasis to the ‘decay’ aspects of death that this production focuses on. The lighting (Leigh Barrett) is as beautiful and effective as in every Mammals’ show I’ve seen: Barrett’s use of color, strobe, and especially isolations add rich contrasts, turning one location into many and highlighting (at the right times) the aching emptiness faced by the performers. Brittany Dee Bodley’s costumes were beautiful (particularly Myers’, Keorner’s, and Orr’s), evocative of Victorianism, and again made no sensationalist commentary on women playing traditionally male roles. Indeed, as one might expect in the Victorian era, the costumes were largely sexless: it was only during a disturbing reanimating-dead-bodies scene when the Ensemble’s bodies were closest to being displayed in any overt manner (which highlighted a running theme of repressed sexuality).

There is not enough time to extol this play’s virtues in a brief review: excellently performed with strong motivation and especially strong technique, highlighted by professionally executed design. ALL GIRL FRANKENSTEIN is a superior play: just what I’d expect from The Chicago Mammals.

Reviews, Theater Stuff

Star Marketing Hits Shakespeare Again

800px-R_Staines_Malvolio_Shakespeare_Twelfth_Night

The cross-gartered yellow stockings are the REAL stars of Twelfth Night.

With Unrehearsed Twelfth Night coming up soon, I naturally can’t help but think of Mark Rylance.

I was very excited when I first heard about the recent revival of Twelfth Night and Richard III running in rep (and I still am). As anyone who’s read anything about it knows, the show’s big ticket item has been Mark Rylance’s dual performances as Olivia in Twelfth Night and Richard in Richard III. Not surprisingly, Olivia has garnered more attention than Richard, all-male casting being an unfortunate necessity of Original Practices productions of Shakespeare’s works, if they want to maintain their street-cred as “Original Practices.”

Unfortunate marginalization aside, I like Original Practices as a concept. I was elated when I read of the soliloquies actually being spoken to the audience, of the minimalist setting allowing actors to create visions and stories with their words, and especially the use of either daylight or candlelight to create consistent lighting, removing the cinematic clumsiness that deflates nearly every contemporary performance I see nowadays.

The downside is that, with the glowing exception of addressing soliloquies to the audience, nearly every innovation presented and celebrated is decidedly superficial. The costumes have won the most acclaim (after the phallocentric casting), followed by the rituals of bowing, saluting, and sword-work. Conspicuously absent (from the press, at least) are Original Pronunciation and Patrick Tucker’s techniques (which allowed us to create Unrehearsed Shakespeare). If Elizabethan actors rehearsed like we do now, they would have to have rehearsed twenty- to twenty-six shows during the off season before performing them, all in alternating rep, during their on-season. But Tim Carroll can justify his more conventional rehearsals with the fact that these actors are not Elizabethans and need to get used to this stuff: it’s the same excuse we at Unrehearsed use for Text Sessions.

But don’t misunderstand: I am very happy to see a Shakespeare show that doesn’t smother the actors with pomp and glitz, and especially any show that allows the actors and audience to acknowledge each other.

What struck me as odd, more weird than bad, was the synopsis for Twelfth Night. Again, Rylance (a two-time Tony winner) is the cash cow for this show, so both Twelfth Night and Richard III are being billed as Rylance-centric (though Olivia is easily the fifth or sixth character of note in the show).

Here is Broadway.com’s synopsis for Twelfth Night:
“In the household of Olivia, two campaigns are being quietly waged – one by the lovesick lord Orsino against the heart of the indifferent Olivia; the other by an alliance of servants and hangers-on against the high-handedness of her steward, the pompous Malvolio. When Orsino engages the cross-dressed Viola to plead with Olivia on his behalf, a bittersweet chain of events follows.”

Anyone who has worked on or read this show, or even seen it, can’t help but raise an eyebrow at this. Viola, the lead, is practically a footnote. Toby Belch, the largest role and star of many productions, isn’t even named. And Malvolio, the undisputed jewel of the production (and King James’ favorite character, and the deliberate star of many Restoration productions) is assigned a sort of odd antagonist-type role. Jerk, sure; victim, absolutely; but Olivia’s antagonist? That’s marketing. Marketing Rylance. Mark Rylanceting. There’s a joke here somewhere. Come back to me.

I don’t hate it. It’s just odd. I guess they’re trying to draw in bigger audiences, but who? Mark Rylance fans? How does the venn diagram for Rylance fans and Twelfth Night fans look?

Rylance Venn Diagram

… I just really like Shakespeare. Shakespeare’s been big on Broadway this year, which means about as much to me as Shakespeare being big on screen (my share thereof is small), but I do hope these productions will lead to a broader appreciation and understanding of Verse, which will then (hopefully) lead to fuller and more vivacious productions in American theaters.

Better a witty fool than a foolish wit.

Random Stuff, Theater Stuff

I, Witness

In the hypothetical world, we are all very aware that our memories and even our perceptions are easy to fool, but when it comes to the supernatural (or really anything personal), we tend to forget this. When I think of personal testimony about Ghosts, Aliens, Big Foot, and Miracles, three personal experiences come quickly to mind.

The FIRST happened earlier than I can remember. When I was a tiny tot, I was bitten by a dog (some say I was trying to steal some of the dog’s food, but he’s got his story and I’ve got mine). I have no memory of this event at all, but I grew up being reminded of it by my parents every time a dog was nearby, or even just mentioned. Consequently, I developed a very exaggerated fear of dogs. I avoided them, I ran from them on sight, I climbed a jungle gym to avoid them, and once (when almost a teenager) I ran screaming from a small and friendly poodle, much to the enraged fury of my father (who, let’s remember, was at least partially responsible for instilling this phobia in me).

Pictured: Vicious, blood-thirsty killer

Pictured: Vicious, blood-thirsty killer

Anyway, in addition to all this irrational behavior, I would also see dogs, much like other people see ghosts. I’d see them when turning a corner, I’d see them in odd brick patterns, in shadowed and far away areas (all during the day), and once I even mistook an enormous green bush for a gargantuan, growling bulldog (bulldogs being famed for their meanness, as evidenced in the Loony Toons documentaries). Eventually, I began thinking twice about what I was seeing, and more importantly why I was afraid of these dogs, and over time the issue went away. I stress that this happened over time. The number one reason superstitions persist is the same reason many people can’t seem to get in shape: they grow complacent over time and stick with whatever’s comfortable.

And that is the very definition of a neurosis: something that causes comfort now (running from a dog/spider/halibut), but causes greater discomfort over time (continued terror of all dogs/spiders/halibuts).

The SECOND happened in first grade (or maybe second: I can’t remember very clearly, which is of course my point), and should be familiar to many of you. We played the telephone game. We sat in a line, and a child at the far end made up a message, then whispered it into the ear of the child next to them. This continued to the end of the line, where the last child repeated the phrase out loud. As always, it was entirely different from the original phrase. Maybe the listeners weren’t paying enough attention, maybe the speakers didn’t articulate enough, maybe both; but the children didn’t ask to clarify, they just took what they thought they heard and rolled with it. Unbeknownst to all of us, we were receiving a free lesson in skepticism.

My THIRD (and favorite) major brush with credulity came in high school. Our parents were gone for the week, so my brother and I were at home alone on a school night. It was around midnight, and I stepped outside to put some outgoing mail in the mailbox. I looked up: the sky was covered with a thin veil of dark clouds. Far more troubling, however, was the full Moon: it was moving. Noticeably. It didn’t seem to be growing any larger, but a visibly mobile Moon was definitely a bad thing. I stared for several seconds, trying to see if my eyes were playing tricks on me, but it was clear: the Moon was in motion.

Not sure what to do, I ran back in the house and called my brother outside with me. I told him to look up at the sky. He did, then asked, “What?”

“Look at the Moon,” I insisted.

Another pause.

“Yeah? So?”

At this point I grew slightly exasperated. “Does it seem weird at all?”

Another pause.

“You mean the clouds?”

I should pause here myself. For whatever reason, my brother has long been credited as being the ‘dumb one’ between the two of us, though he’s never made a big deal of it himself. But on occasion, he has the opportunity to inadvertently make me look foolish, and I like to think he takes some comfort in that.

“The clouds!?” I nearly shouted.

I looked back up to the disturbingly itinerant satellite and saw… that the thin veil of clouds was rushing beneath it at uniform speed. The mass of clouds, moving at the same rate, had tricked my eyes into thinking that the Moon was moving, thanks to a common visual illusion called the Auto-kinetic Effect. And remember, I spent several seconds blinking and trying to disabuse myself of just such a mistake. But still, I saw a Majora’s Mask Moon where there was only Green Cheese.*

Luckily, a Majora Moon would be no great threat to us at all.

Luckily, a Majora Moon would be no great threat to us at all.

So, when someone tells me that they know ghosts are real, or that miracles can happen, or that they’ve seen or heard or found something, I think of these events. Maybe they’re right, but much like Tim Minchin, I believe things for which I have evidence, and I frequently struggle to remind my muddled, shortcut-loving brain that this is and should be the case.

*The Moon is not made of green cheese. Shame on you.

Random Stuff

MacSith Has Light Sabers! Do You Have Light Sabers?

cropped-1382389_10201046626624759_46556291_n-1.jpg

MacSith (a blending of MacBeth and Star Wars) has just come into Chicago (running through Dec 15th with an extra performance on Dec 18th), and while the fights are as excellent as you would expect from a production placing a half-dozen fight directors in a Galaxy Far, Far Away (along with nearly thirty other performers), the real achievement of this show is highlighting the value of Family, something lost in the hocus-pocus of more ‘conventional’ MacBeth productions. Honestly, I don’t think our recent Unrehearsed production really hit this strongly either, but MacSith’s bare hour-long retelling did.

It was a simple tableau near the show’s opening that did it: MonBeth (later MacSith), MonDuff, and Banquo playing cards, each one surrounded by their wife and/or child. This simple stage picture (and I normally hate stage pictures) immediately drew my focus to Malcolm and Duncan’s relationship, which is shown right after in this production, and from there I spent the entire show looking at (and for) families.

This his hardly revolutionary, I realize. It’s been the subject of many a paper and surely something discussed by many directors to justify their horror-shows. This is just the first time I saw it so clearly. And it of course highlights a critical point of the show: Mackers does not have a child. “A barren sceptre” indeed, sir.

“Bring forth men-children only.” A compliment to his wife’s strength, or a not-so-secret longing? Witches and midwives were closely related in Elizabethan superstition, and it was the Witches who foretold (or, in many productions, created) the futures of the three most prominent men.

Also, there were light sabers. Light sabers.

Anyway, MacSith is a quick roller-coaster ride with an amazing playwright, and I was recently brought on to write a Shakespearean transliteration of the Star Wars’ “scroll” for their upcoming radio-broadcast recording. I’ll put the first one of the three below.

O Firmament Divine, this Galaxy,
This humble hive of infinite repose
And countless treachery, this land of Light,
And Dark, that each outnumbereth the other
Beyond the calculations of a Mind:
Our Galaxy, was torn by War’s Device,
And never was a tear of greater woe
Than that which forged Hatred out of Love,
And turn’d Retainers traitor, friend to Foe.
Benevolent King Duncan, Sov’reign Lord
Of Planet Cumber, was betrayed in
His battle ‘gainst the Weyen invaders
By Donwald, Moff of Cawdor, rebel Lord
Whose ships blot out the starlit sky Above,
Whilst Weyen warr’ors shake the Ground below.
Yet ‘tween these Sorrows of the Earth and Sky,
A greater, greyer treachery is birth’d
From out the pride of Victory: Mon Beth
The Lord of Glamis and highest general,
Will see his Soul contested surely as
The Planet Cumber’s sov’reign right. Betwixt
Illusions’ reign, No thing was as it seem’d.

MacSith_Group

Theater Stuff

What Mega Man Teaches Us About Acting

FUNNY LIST! GO!

Mega Man MFA

Mega Man MFA

Though a stone-cold killer on the surface, beneath Mega Man’s steely exterior beats the heart of an artist. Don’t believe me? It’s called the willing suspension of disbelief, and if you can grant him that, the Blue Bomber will Mr. Miyagi you right into virtuosity.

1. TENACITY (Auditions)
Mega Man games are hard. They didn’t coddle players back then (or now), and the only way to master a level was to play it, over and over. You failed, over and over. But each time you tried, you got better. The stuff you mastered got even easier, and the stuff you struggled with became more manageable. And the impossible stuff? That stuff still sucked, but after fifty-eight tries and seven game-overs (and start-overs) and hours or maybe days or even weeks of playing, you finally got to Concrete Man (and then he killed you… I hate Concrete Man).

Mega Man, in addition to being action-packed fun, is a lesson in patience and perseverance; and if that doesn’t apply to Theater, I don’t know what does. Auditions are a craps shoot, and though you can learn as you go (see #2), there are always going to be things coming at you for which you could not reasonably prepare. So you’re gonna fail. I know I have. But you don’t give up. You furiously mash the B button until the level reloads, and you try again.

Not because you have to. Not because you need this gig to survive (ain’t nobody gettin’ paid nothin’). Not so you don’t have to explain your life choices to your family again. But because it’s fun. If it’s not fun, why the hell are you doing it?

A friend of mine says that auditioning is one of his favorite things to do, because it’s the only time he can present a finished product that is entirely of his own making. He’s a consummate professional and very good at taking direction, but that doesn’t mean he always likes the direction he’s given. Auditioning is the only time he gets to show 100% of himself, and no one else gets to stick their thumbs into it. At least until the audition is over, and the casting director says, “Do it again, but this time imagine you’re a constipated manatee.”

Auditioning is a fun game. Granted it requires a little more prep than your average Mega Man stage, but if you’re like 90% of professional and big-city actors, you’ll spend as much or more time auditioning than being part of a show. Find a way to enjoy the challenge. If not, put the controller down and walk away. Mega Man is very disappointed in you, but he ain’t your daddy: who cares what he thinks?

2. LEARN-AS-YOU-PLAY
As Egoraptor mentions in his legendary Sequelitis video, Mega Man games are the best when it comes to Conveyance: they show you how to play the game as you’re playing it. They show you an enemy, then they show you an obstacle, then they COMBINE the enemy and the obstacle! Whoa!

Theater is a little trickier. There are hundreds of opportunities to learn the game as you go, but they aren’t as obvious, and the consequences are much less immediate. Odds are, if you ignore a potential lesson, you’re not going to fall off a cliff or get shot by those damn hard-hat guys at an inopportune moment. It might lose you an audition later, or leave you less prepared for a performance, maybe even make you miss out on a new acting insight that would let you Level Up your work (there aren’t any Level-Ups in Mega Man; we’ll save that for another pod-blog-cast).

Dance Calls

Dance Calls

So it’s always a good idea to Look for something to learn. The first time I played Hortensio in Taming of the Shrew, it was just a chore to complete. It wasn’t until I did it in Unrehearsed Shakespeare, when I properly studied the role, that I finally learned why Hortensio is the coolest sidekick in all the Elizabethan cannon. If I had looked at my first time as an opportunity to learn something in stead of just something to get through, I probably wouldn’t have been so miserable.

Lesson learned. Conveyance.

3. BOSS BATTLES
You got through the level! You’re barely alive, you used up all your Metal Blades, but you made it through that little spring-lock door, and then BAM! Quick Man drops a boomerang on you.

W in the actual F!

So you try again, you fail again, and after eight more tries you make it to Quick Man again. You throw every weapon in your arsenal at him: Bubbles, Fire, even friggin’ Leaves, all to no avail. THEN, just for a breather, you try out the Time Stopper.

Holy Mother of Gummi Bears! Did that just happen?

New Plays

“Time, my one weakness. How Beckett.”

For many actors, there’s a single Key, some prop or costume piece that clicks with them and allows them to connect with and embody their character. Alfred Lunt called it his green umbrella. I call it my Hadouken. Six o’ one.

But don’t limit your Hadouken to just props or costume pieces. Your Hadouken could be an acting style, a physicality, even a specific delivery of a specific line. My old acting teacher was fond of saying ‘There’s more than one way to skin a cat.’ Bizarre taxidermal fetishes aside, the analogy certainly holds true for acting. Try new and different things as often as you can. Make like Brick and keep looking for that click. (Minus the alcohol; shame on you)

4. SPECIAL POWERS (Or: Boss Battles 2: The Bossening)
Every Mega Man game has an Order-Of-Play: a make-it-easy guide of which bosses you should attack in which order. That’s because each boss’s weapon happens to be the weakness of another boss. Gemini Man’s works on Needle Man’s works on Snake Man’s works on Gemini Man’s (kinda). Each victory gives you what you need to make the next that much more achievable.

Top Man... Brilliant

Top Man… Brilliant

Each performance you master (don’t say perform, say master) makes it that much easier to master your next. Whether it’s a new style, a new physicality, a new revelation (Ja willing), or just increased comfort-level, these seemingly separate experiences build off of each other to make you even stronger than Zero, even without the red body armor and 80’s rock-ballad hair.

So it’s always a good idea to expand your view while tackling new roles. It’s sort of a Konami Code for making each Hadouken-search easier than the last one.

5. DOCTOR WILY: A STUDY IN BECKETT
Beckett’s stuff can be pretty depressing, but Hey! (Navi), Mega Man’s got some emo-chops too, and not just Quick Man’s incredibly symbolic vulnerability to sitting still. Doctor Wily is Inevitability Personified: he just keeps comin’ back, over and over, no matter what Mega Man does.

So what does Mega Man do? Does he give up? No, he hats up! He hats the eff up and gets back out there and fights that crazy doctor again. Sure, his victories sometimes seem futile, but he celebrates when he can and doesn’t let the inevitable entropy of the future rain on his parade. He lives in the moment, like a Buddha, or a fish, or a robot (kinda).

Theater is one of the most ephemeral artforms, and the Last Night is often so overshadowed by manly hugs and manly tears and drunken bacchanalias that it’s easy to lose sight of the show’s own value. I’ve often been left with disappointment that I didn’t do more with a role or try harder to pick up the lead actress or get in shape for that nude scene I insisted on adding. Back when I used to actually earn a living acting, the bittersweetness of a show’s ending was often accompanied by the terror that I might never get a paying gig again, or that the next show I lined up would fail to live up to my new expectations. But, much like Mega Man, you’re playing for the journey and for those victories: you’re playing for this game, not the next.

And what about poor Doctor Wily? That guy never succeeds at anything he does. But lucky for him, he took a lesson from #1 and gets right back on that metaphor. Ironically, each character is essentially defined by their futile struggle against the other.

Here's what Commitment looks like

Here’s what Commitment looks like

That might sound like kind of a downer, but if it’s what you want to do, then what’s the problem? Trite but true: it helps to achieve a balance between Working towards goals and Appreciating the journey toward those goals. If you learn to love the sowing, you’ll love the reaping all the more.

Level Start

Goofs and Rambles, Random Stuff, Theater Stuff, Video Games

The Mantra is “Accessibility!”

Here’s something.

In most entertainment fields, it is widely accepted that the more you understand the thing you’re watching, the greater your enjoyment. This is especially evident in The Sports, where men (and women, dear my lord) who would otherwise be unable-or-unwilling to memorize a phone number can regale you with statistical databases, coaching strategies and counterstrategies, and dozens upon dozens of detailed career histories. They discuss these with each other. They debate. And they interpret the otherwise repetitive (and arguably redundant) plays in light of this information.

But while the formula “Education = Entertainment” is the obvious paradigm in Sports, games of all kinds, and anything that involves mutual activity; the more Arty something becomes, the more this trope is called into question. Kanye West is infinitely more popular than Johann Sebastian Bach because Kanye The Giant requires very little understanding of the artistic discipline in which he operates (and changes in cultural milieus, blah blah blah). I sure don’t know much about music, and even I ain’t sayin’ she’s a gold-digger.

My appreciation of Bach, meanwhile, is largely incidental. I like the sound of some of his work, and I appreciate that he wrote music in every key and style and structure (a friend once told me that we could rebuild Music from scratch using only the works of Bach), but by and large I can’t tell most of his songs apart, nor could I tell him from most of his disciplinary fellows.

This apparent contradiction, that accessibility trumps investment where ART is concerned, seems perfectly acceptable to most of us. Sneering at someone who doesn’t understand Classical Music is just that, sneering. There are certain disciplines that Americans are expected to invest in (Football, Screen ‘acting,’ and Public Relations being chief among them), and others that are optional.

This works just fine for Bach and his philosophical bedfellows for two reasons. 1) They’re dead, what do they care? 2) They were backed by patrons, and their concern over popularity was greatly mitigated by this.

But now we come to the present, where everyone wants to be the 10-500 people who made their living simply by producing Art (a vague and assumptive statistic that sadly has not increased to meet the population-inflation of the past two-hundred years). Not only that, but popularity is strongly linked with our evaluation of the artistic quality. Whether for self-promotion or to defend our own feelings, sales and turn-outs are among the first subjects mentioned regarding any artistic endeavor.

I should stop and point out: I realize that we frequently go through long stretches of time where popularity is inextricably linked with quality, this has been exacerbated by Capitalism, and I’m not trying to suggest that our current generation is somehow less artistic than the last. We all know these things, except possibly the Capitalism bit, but I stick by it.

Increasing your knowledge of the Discipline of an entertainment field invariably increases your appreciation of the entertainment itself, even if it doesn’t increase your enjoyment enough for you to bother with said entertainment. Yet when it comes to Theater, we are expected to find the lowest-common-denominator: our sales are poor, so we have to bring the Mountain to Mohammed (Spoiler: that analogy was applied inaccurately for effect).

I spend a lot of time with Shakespeare (we’re homies), and every time I learn something new, my love is increased. And that learning requires that I sit forward, focus, and pay attention to what’s being done in front of me, rather than just sitting back and letting things happen at me.

I guess all I’m saying is we aught to find a way to make audiences interested in Theater as a discipline, rather than just a vehicle for entertainment. Evaluating the execution should be part of the entertainment, just like in sports, video games, and really anything else. And if that means that only theater-kids come to see theater shows, well that’s okay. If you just want things to happen at you, you should probably just stay home and watch TV: it’s cheaper and takes a lot less effort.

Blort

Random Stuff, Theater Stuff

A Thousand Times Goodnight to bed

A Thousand Times Goodnight was the first conventional show I had directed in a long time, and the first show I’d written-and-directed outside of school since 2003. While I do have some failings as a director, I also feel that my work with the actors (which has always been my focus) was pretty successful.

As with most plays and their playwrights, this story covered some important personal issues: The failure to be properly understood despite your greatest efforts, people’s apparent inability to exist as equals, the definition of intelligence, trust, and gaining what many desire while failing to achieve what you want most. Most of all, to me it touches (lightly) on the impossibility to ever truly know another person.

Just like Shakespeare’s plays, I don’t think a single viewing, performance, or entire production of this play can adequately convey the concepts discussed, nor should it strive to do so. I wanted to give the actors the freedom to tell the stories they wanted to tell, and I was very fortunate to work with some incredible artists, with diverse wheel-houses and the willingness to step outside those comfort zones, and with such enthusiasm for what they were doing. There was not a single instance of grief, and many, many moments of excitement, revelation, and reward. Directing plays used to be a chore (not least of all because I didn’t really know what I was doing), but A Thousand Times Goodnight was one of the most artistically rewarding projects in my life.

This is mostly thanks to Chris and Marcee, who put me up (and put up with me) for months now, giving me the security to focus on the show. They absorbed a lot of terrible headaches for me, and this show wouldn’t even have existed without them. It’s unfortunate that more producers can’t be patrons, but I am very fortunate to have enjoyed their generosity. It sounds like the show has created some good buzz for TheaterRED, but it’s small potatoes against what they’ve earned and the great gift they have given me. I also got to play board games with them while I was here, which was a gift unto itself.

And speaking of gifts in human form, Zach Zembrowski is a god among mere mortals. This show could have been a technical nightmare despite my minimalist ambitions, but Zach showed up like the metaphorical cavalry that he is and rescued us. Anyone who knows him knows I’m preaching to the choir, but this guy is a godsend.

Now that the show is over, my fortune is uncertain too. I have no idea where I’m going to be next year, or even next month for that matter. I risked more than a little stability to come do this show, but I’ve never been more satisfied with my decisions as a theater guy.

Words like ‘gratitude’ are sadly inadequate to describe what I was given, but it’ll have to do for now. Thank you to everyone who helped make this happen.

A Thousand Times Goodnight, Theater Stuff