I have seen 101 shows in 2010 (not including shows I was involved in). I don't anticipate seeing anything in the next six days, so here are just a few thoughts on a year's worth of theatre from the perspective of a young director.
Of those 101, 8 were on Broadway (4 plays and 4 musicals), 17 Off-Broadway, 2 outside of NYC, and 24 readings.
A few highlights:
Best Play of 2010: NEIGHBORS by Branden Jacobs-Jenkins and directed by Nigel Smith as part of Public LAB.
This will come as no surprise to anyone who has read earlier blog posts (and if you haven't, well, now's your chance to go back and find out why this was my favorite play).
Best Musical of 2010: SCOTTSBORO BOYS on Broadway directed & choreographed by Susan Stroman with music by Kander & Ebb and book by David Thompson
In retrospect, I see a lot of its holes and issues. However, the experience of seeing it was quite magical.
Best Direction of 2010: IN THE WAKE by Lisa Kron and directed by Leigh Silverman. I learned so much about perspective from this play and how to manipulate it (in conjunction with 16 hours of directing instruction from the phenomenal Ms. Silverman).
Best Reading of a New Play (TIE): HURT VILLAGE by Katori Hall and directed by Lucie Tiberghien at Atlantic Theatre Company. I hope this gets produced soon so I can see it again.
Best Reading of a New Play (TIE): CLEMENTINE IN THE LOWER NINE by Dan Dietz and directed by Leah Gardiner at Lark Play Development Center Playwrights' Week. This actually isn't included in my 101 plays because I stage managed. I was so lucky to be a part of this for ten hours... truly can't wait to see it come to life!
Honorable Mention:
THE ALIENS by Annie Baker and directed by Sam Gold at Rattlestick Playwrights Theatre
Biggest Regrets About Not Seeing:
AFTER THE REVOLUTION by Amy Herzog at Playwrights Horizons
IN THE FOOTPRINT by the Civilians
and dozens of others.
Looking forward to another amazing year of theatre in 2011!
Merry Christmas everyone!
Friday, December 24, 2010
Friday, December 17, 2010
Reflection #6: On Productivity
I have hit a huge productivity funk.
I wake up at noon, make my way to work between 1 and 2pm, work until 4 or 5pm, then make my way to the theatrical event of the evening.
Not a bad life, you say? It's killing me. I hate myself.
Don't get me wrong, I love my work and I love seeing theatre every single night. But the ideas in my brain just sit there, and I can't even do things that I know I need to do because I can't get myself out of bed in the morning and when I do I sit on my computer and wait. For something. I don't even now what I'm waiting for. I am wasting away my creative energy.
I am hoping to refresh in California and come back with all the engines blazing.
Unfortunately there are things I need to get done this weekend. Today. Now.
So I am (quickly) going to write out a list of ways I can be productive in my creative life. And then I am going to resolve that if I am not actively doing one of these things when I am not at work, I might as well not be a director. Can I honestly call myself a freelancer when there are days when I spend no hours actively doing something involving directing? Absolutely not. I'm starting to feel that false sense of living again where I claim to be actively doing things but I'm not. And it's the same refrain from the people I know here as it was in California. "You're doing so much!" "You're doing all the right things!" "I'm so impressed with everything you're doing!" I feel stagnant. I am not moving anywhere. Literally (from my apartment) and figuratively.
Things that are productive:
1. Seeing shows.
2. Reading plays.
3. Blogging (because whenever I blog I feel as though I am participating in my own creative life)
4. Soliciting plays and contacts from friends and colleagues
5. Actively participating in my friends' creative lives
6. Actively brainstorming and conversing about my creative projects, both present and future
7. Socializing IN PERSON
8. Eating and exercising, because I don't do enough of either, and I'm sure this is somewhat related to my productivity funk.
9. Actively pursuing opportunities
Things that are not productive:
1. Sitting in my house
2. Talking on the internet for any reason other than those above.
3. Playing solitaire on my phone on the subway.
Ready, set, go.
I wake up at noon, make my way to work between 1 and 2pm, work until 4 or 5pm, then make my way to the theatrical event of the evening.
Not a bad life, you say? It's killing me. I hate myself.
Don't get me wrong, I love my work and I love seeing theatre every single night. But the ideas in my brain just sit there, and I can't even do things that I know I need to do because I can't get myself out of bed in the morning and when I do I sit on my computer and wait. For something. I don't even now what I'm waiting for. I am wasting away my creative energy.
I am hoping to refresh in California and come back with all the engines blazing.
Unfortunately there are things I need to get done this weekend. Today. Now.
So I am (quickly) going to write out a list of ways I can be productive in my creative life. And then I am going to resolve that if I am not actively doing one of these things when I am not at work, I might as well not be a director. Can I honestly call myself a freelancer when there are days when I spend no hours actively doing something involving directing? Absolutely not. I'm starting to feel that false sense of living again where I claim to be actively doing things but I'm not. And it's the same refrain from the people I know here as it was in California. "You're doing so much!" "You're doing all the right things!" "I'm so impressed with everything you're doing!" I feel stagnant. I am not moving anywhere. Literally (from my apartment) and figuratively.
Things that are productive:
1. Seeing shows.
2. Reading plays.
3. Blogging (because whenever I blog I feel as though I am participating in my own creative life)
4. Soliciting plays and contacts from friends and colleagues
5. Actively participating in my friends' creative lives
6. Actively brainstorming and conversing about my creative projects, both present and future
7. Socializing IN PERSON
8. Eating and exercising, because I don't do enough of either, and I'm sure this is somewhat related to my productivity funk.
9. Actively pursuing opportunities
Things that are not productive:
1. Sitting in my house
2. Talking on the internet for any reason other than those above.
3. Playing solitaire on my phone on the subway.
Ready, set, go.
Monday, November 29, 2010
Reflection #5: On Stanford
I'm going to spill some thoughts that I hope to eventually turn into an open letter to the Drama Department at Stanford. Right now it's very scattered, but I need to put it to paper the internet to begin to gather and organize my thoughts.
This is inspired by the recent discoveries of Stanford grads, most with their Bachelor of Arts in Drama like me, making their way in theatre in New York City. For instance, Anne Kauffman graduated from Stanford and went on to become an Obie-winning director in 2007. I cannot tell you how much I wish I'd known that when I was at Stanford! I would have felt validated in my pursuit of my degree and career. I felt that Stanford took every opportunity to treat my choice of industry and career as though it were invalid. If Stanford wants to create an arts community (for goodness sake, there is a Stanford Arts commercial during every football game for the past three years!), it has to treat the arts as a viable career pursuit. The department should be interested in where it's alumni are, and not just it's doctorate students. I want to get an annual email saying "here's where your classmates are!" I want the Department to care about what I'm doing. It should take pride in the accomplishments of its alumni, not leave them for dead. Yes, there's a lot of turnover. But the more you invest in me, I'm going to return. I want to go in and offer advice to young playwrights and directors and actors and give them the opportunities I can and create a bond with them so that we can all support each other in our pursuits.
I know that if I want it I will have to create it. But if I gathered a list of the accomplishments and whereabouts of alumni from 2007-2009, would the Department send it out or at least post it on its walls? Or would I have to stalk people and be the renegade graduate trying to create community where there is none?
It seems absurd for a Drama Department not to create community and continuity among its students. Of all industries, theatre is the most dependent on how people can help each other. It is entirely about the connections you make. And those of us who just jump into the world are forced to start at the very beginning. As a result, I honestly feel stunted in the industry as a director, compared to some of my contemporaries who were able to leap into New York City or the professional theatre worlds because of the connections their drama departments gave them. That is my biggest regret having gone to Stanford. I wouldn't trade anything else (well, maybe I'd ask for 3 more directing classes). I want to fix that. But I truly believe it starts with the Department recognizing its alumni who are making their way as professionals and forging the connections between those people and their students. The popularity of the Department would go up exponentially. All we want as Drama students is to be taken seriously. When I arrived at admit weekend I was told if I hadn't changed my major three times by the time I graduated my advisor would not have done her job. I knew then that I wanted to be a director, and that the Department was going to try to stand in my way. I worked all four years to be taken seriously, and I had to do it outside the scope of the Department, which did not afford me the opportunity to direct and to prove myself... and couldn't even tell me there were people like me out there who I could look up to and see that it was possible to become a New York City director with a B.A. from Stanford University.
That just makes me angry.
This is inspired by the recent discoveries of Stanford grads, most with their Bachelor of Arts in Drama like me, making their way in theatre in New York City. For instance, Anne Kauffman graduated from Stanford and went on to become an Obie-winning director in 2007. I cannot tell you how much I wish I'd known that when I was at Stanford! I would have felt validated in my pursuit of my degree and career. I felt that Stanford took every opportunity to treat my choice of industry and career as though it were invalid. If Stanford wants to create an arts community (for goodness sake, there is a Stanford Arts commercial during every football game for the past three years!), it has to treat the arts as a viable career pursuit. The department should be interested in where it's alumni are, and not just it's doctorate students. I want to get an annual email saying "here's where your classmates are!" I want the Department to care about what I'm doing. It should take pride in the accomplishments of its alumni, not leave them for dead. Yes, there's a lot of turnover. But the more you invest in me, I'm going to return. I want to go in and offer advice to young playwrights and directors and actors and give them the opportunities I can and create a bond with them so that we can all support each other in our pursuits.
I know that if I want it I will have to create it. But if I gathered a list of the accomplishments and whereabouts of alumni from 2007-2009, would the Department send it out or at least post it on its walls? Or would I have to stalk people and be the renegade graduate trying to create community where there is none?
It seems absurd for a Drama Department not to create community and continuity among its students. Of all industries, theatre is the most dependent on how people can help each other. It is entirely about the connections you make. And those of us who just jump into the world are forced to start at the very beginning. As a result, I honestly feel stunted in the industry as a director, compared to some of my contemporaries who were able to leap into New York City or the professional theatre worlds because of the connections their drama departments gave them. That is my biggest regret having gone to Stanford. I wouldn't trade anything else (well, maybe I'd ask for 3 more directing classes). I want to fix that. But I truly believe it starts with the Department recognizing its alumni who are making their way as professionals and forging the connections between those people and their students. The popularity of the Department would go up exponentially. All we want as Drama students is to be taken seriously. When I arrived at admit weekend I was told if I hadn't changed my major three times by the time I graduated my advisor would not have done her job. I knew then that I wanted to be a director, and that the Department was going to try to stand in my way. I worked all four years to be taken seriously, and I had to do it outside the scope of the Department, which did not afford me the opportunity to direct and to prove myself... and couldn't even tell me there were people like me out there who I could look up to and see that it was possible to become a New York City director with a B.A. from Stanford University.
That just makes me angry.
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Reflection #4: On Networking
Apologies for the week-long hiatus. I am so impressed with people who can blog every day, or even on any sort of regular schedule. Nevertheless, I am back to continue my eight reflections, consecutive or not.
As I mentioned a few posts ago, one of the events I attended in recent weeks was the Solving for X workshop, a networking workshop taught by Michael Roderick. Four hours with twenty-six people from a variety of professions, all in entertainment, in a studio in Chelsea on a Saturday morning.
I spent a lot of the workshop thinking about the circumstances in which I have needed to apply the tools being presented, or opportunities I've been given that I need to take advantage of- I have to consider the practical application of what I'm being presented with in order for it to mean anything in my life. According to two friends in the room, it appeared to them that I was not having a good time- I don't think having a good time was the point, but any apparent lack of enjoyment was in fact internalization and self-assessment- in the context of a networking workshop I find it a little disconcerting that my body language can be read so negatively. As someone who is always doing, the chance for reflection was a very welcome outcome of the workshop. I am certainly not the first person to participate in any discussion unless I think I already have absorbed and understood the material, in which case being in class is already kind of pointless. I'd rather think things through for myself before saying them outloud so that I can be clear and concise. Often when I direct I don't get the chance to do that, meaning that I ramble for a while because I don't know yet how to say what I'm getting at. The same thing happens in any situation when I am put on the spot to speak and am not prepared to do so. And you wonder why I'm not an improviser. Maybe I need an extemporaneous speaking class.
But in the context of a workshop, I am going to sit in silence and let other people's thoughts sit in my head so that I can appropriately sift through them. Participating in exercises was a nice challenge because they were directed, and also because for the most part they came from how to express actual needs and desires. Although the third time you're telling someone you're looking for producers and playwrights it starts to sound kind of false- that part made me want to go back and reassess what exactly it is I need. I think "producers and playwrights" is a general way of saying "new projects to direct and people to help me mount them". Still general, but a little clearer in terms of my own needs, perhaps.
I left with the feeling that were I to walk into a networking event that evening, I would not necessarily handle myself any better than when I entered that morning, because I think like most things, these tools take both internalization and practice- and it's a good feeling to know they are things you can improve in yourself and not tricks that some are able to conjure at will.
I had a discussion following the workshop about social networking versus career networking. Obviously our industry is a social one by nature. But I often find myself with social relationships where I desire working ones and vice versa. I would be interested to hear a discussion of how to control that aspect of networking, particularly when going to events with peers, where the groundwork for social vs. industry is so unclear.
Lastly, it was a really interesting group of people, and it was great to have a room full of (mostly) strangers with such varying backgrounds. I think that was unintentionally very effective because it gave me the opportunity to realize that I absolutely gravitate towards those I know, and that it really takes another step for me to break out of that and approach strangers. I thought I was extroverted until I started meeting truly extroverted people... there is a love of discussion with strangers that I don't have.
If you ever have the chance to take a workshop from Michael Roderick, do it!
Hope you're all having a fantastic turkey day!
As I mentioned a few posts ago, one of the events I attended in recent weeks was the Solving for X workshop, a networking workshop taught by Michael Roderick. Four hours with twenty-six people from a variety of professions, all in entertainment, in a studio in Chelsea on a Saturday morning.
I spent a lot of the workshop thinking about the circumstances in which I have needed to apply the tools being presented, or opportunities I've been given that I need to take advantage of- I have to consider the practical application of what I'm being presented with in order for it to mean anything in my life. According to two friends in the room, it appeared to them that I was not having a good time- I don't think having a good time was the point, but any apparent lack of enjoyment was in fact internalization and self-assessment- in the context of a networking workshop I find it a little disconcerting that my body language can be read so negatively. As someone who is always doing, the chance for reflection was a very welcome outcome of the workshop. I am certainly not the first person to participate in any discussion unless I think I already have absorbed and understood the material, in which case being in class is already kind of pointless. I'd rather think things through for myself before saying them outloud so that I can be clear and concise. Often when I direct I don't get the chance to do that, meaning that I ramble for a while because I don't know yet how to say what I'm getting at. The same thing happens in any situation when I am put on the spot to speak and am not prepared to do so. And you wonder why I'm not an improviser. Maybe I need an extemporaneous speaking class.
But in the context of a workshop, I am going to sit in silence and let other people's thoughts sit in my head so that I can appropriately sift through them. Participating in exercises was a nice challenge because they were directed, and also because for the most part they came from how to express actual needs and desires. Although the third time you're telling someone you're looking for producers and playwrights it starts to sound kind of false- that part made me want to go back and reassess what exactly it is I need. I think "producers and playwrights" is a general way of saying "new projects to direct and people to help me mount them". Still general, but a little clearer in terms of my own needs, perhaps.
I left with the feeling that were I to walk into a networking event that evening, I would not necessarily handle myself any better than when I entered that morning, because I think like most things, these tools take both internalization and practice- and it's a good feeling to know they are things you can improve in yourself and not tricks that some are able to conjure at will.
I had a discussion following the workshop about social networking versus career networking. Obviously our industry is a social one by nature. But I often find myself with social relationships where I desire working ones and vice versa. I would be interested to hear a discussion of how to control that aspect of networking, particularly when going to events with peers, where the groundwork for social vs. industry is so unclear.
Lastly, it was a really interesting group of people, and it was great to have a room full of (mostly) strangers with such varying backgrounds. I think that was unintentionally very effective because it gave me the opportunity to realize that I absolutely gravitate towards those I know, and that it really takes another step for me to break out of that and approach strangers. I thought I was extroverted until I started meeting truly extroverted people... there is a love of discussion with strangers that I don't have.
If you ever have the chance to take a workshop from Michael Roderick, do it!
Hope you're all having a fantastic turkey day!
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
Reflection #3: On Access
I'm going to riff on the idea of access for a few minutes (EDIT: or seventy).
Last week, I had an interview with an awesome off-Broadway director. It was thrilling to sit in the room and talk to him for 25 minutes about the show, about his last show and about theatre in general. As I left, I thought to myself that even if I didn't get the job, if we saw each other again (which I believe is inevitable in this city) he would remember me and we would have a friendly, good interaction or even conversation. And while I didn't get the job, he left me the nicest voicemail telling me to keep in touch and that he hoped we would work together in the future.
Of course, now it's up to me to follow up on that.
This is what I do in my part-time job, which I love. I help grant access. I mailed off a contract to the (very well-deserving) girl who got the above job in question. My job is to assist in the creation and execution of career opportunities for directors and choreographers at all levels. And it's all about accessibility. How do we make Broadway and Off-Broadway and big regional directors & choreographers accessible to those who otherwise don't have a way to get a foot in the door? More than just connecting them to those directors, how do we make the process of a professional production accessible to young directors, who aren't given the opportunities to sit in a rehearsal room? How do we make the world of TV and film (and the evergrowing web-media) accessible to directors who only have experience in theatre?
Then there's access onstage.
I believe that the best plays* are accessible to everyone. Which doesn't necessarily imply they have to be universal. It just has to have a wide enough variety of characters, views or just subject matter so that, for example, a conservative watching "In the Wake" might be able to see his or herself reflected in the play (I use that example because I think there are moments that do open up access like that, although there could be more).
*I want to make sure this is distinct from theatre as a whole, as community-based theatre is something on an entirely different level which is intrinsically about access for a specific group of people. More on this later, perhaps?
I have been to many plays that I could not access because I felt as though I was not the intended audience. I wrote strongly about this feeling after seeing a play about Rwanda that was so focused on it's Catholicism that I felt entirely ostracized for my lack of spirituality. I wanted badly to be let into the play, but that door was shut to me.
In another play, I was the intended audience, but instead of being able to access the piece, I was lectured at for my desire not to stay in my hometown and blamed for gentrification as a whole. Even though I felt for the issues and the performances were incredible, I could not access the piece because I could not reconcile my personal experience with what I was being told to do.
I had a fantastic conversation with my boss yesterday about Shakespeare, sparked by a couple of important directors saying that Shakespeare should not be placed in a specific anachronistic context. I would argue that this is not the case. Shakespeare frustrates me because I cannot access the text. I have seen two productions of Shakespeare plays that I have loved, and both were set in a very specific anachronistic time, but doing so opened up the play for me. If I am able to identify the roles of the characters based on their context, I can begin to listen and understand the text. Measure for Measure still lives in my head in the 1980s redlight district. However, the key to these decisions is that they are not commentary on the context or on the script. The director of that M4M wasn't judging the redlight district dwellers, he just saw how to use the context to open up the story to the audience. Which is why (I believe) setting Shakespeare in war zones or modern political contexts is far less successful, and begets the judgment directors have towards such decisions.
Clearly I have opened up a can of worms I could talk about forever. Which ties nicely into the purpose behind this blogging every day exercise- accessing my own thoughts.
Bis morgen!
Last week, I had an interview with an awesome off-Broadway director. It was thrilling to sit in the room and talk to him for 25 minutes about the show, about his last show and about theatre in general. As I left, I thought to myself that even if I didn't get the job, if we saw each other again (which I believe is inevitable in this city) he would remember me and we would have a friendly, good interaction or even conversation. And while I didn't get the job, he left me the nicest voicemail telling me to keep in touch and that he hoped we would work together in the future.
Of course, now it's up to me to follow up on that.
This is what I do in my part-time job, which I love. I help grant access. I mailed off a contract to the (very well-deserving) girl who got the above job in question. My job is to assist in the creation and execution of career opportunities for directors and choreographers at all levels. And it's all about accessibility. How do we make Broadway and Off-Broadway and big regional directors & choreographers accessible to those who otherwise don't have a way to get a foot in the door? More than just connecting them to those directors, how do we make the process of a professional production accessible to young directors, who aren't given the opportunities to sit in a rehearsal room? How do we make the world of TV and film (and the evergrowing web-media) accessible to directors who only have experience in theatre?
Then there's access onstage.
I believe that the best plays* are accessible to everyone. Which doesn't necessarily imply they have to be universal. It just has to have a wide enough variety of characters, views or just subject matter so that, for example, a conservative watching "In the Wake" might be able to see his or herself reflected in the play (I use that example because I think there are moments that do open up access like that, although there could be more).
*I want to make sure this is distinct from theatre as a whole, as community-based theatre is something on an entirely different level which is intrinsically about access for a specific group of people. More on this later, perhaps?
I have been to many plays that I could not access because I felt as though I was not the intended audience. I wrote strongly about this feeling after seeing a play about Rwanda that was so focused on it's Catholicism that I felt entirely ostracized for my lack of spirituality. I wanted badly to be let into the play, but that door was shut to me.
In another play, I was the intended audience, but instead of being able to access the piece, I was lectured at for my desire not to stay in my hometown and blamed for gentrification as a whole. Even though I felt for the issues and the performances were incredible, I could not access the piece because I could not reconcile my personal experience with what I was being told to do.
I had a fantastic conversation with my boss yesterday about Shakespeare, sparked by a couple of important directors saying that Shakespeare should not be placed in a specific anachronistic context. I would argue that this is not the case. Shakespeare frustrates me because I cannot access the text. I have seen two productions of Shakespeare plays that I have loved, and both were set in a very specific anachronistic time, but doing so opened up the play for me. If I am able to identify the roles of the characters based on their context, I can begin to listen and understand the text. Measure for Measure still lives in my head in the 1980s redlight district. However, the key to these decisions is that they are not commentary on the context or on the script. The director of that M4M wasn't judging the redlight district dwellers, he just saw how to use the context to open up the story to the audience. Which is why (I believe) setting Shakespeare in war zones or modern political contexts is far less successful, and begets the judgment directors have towards such decisions.
Clearly I have opened up a can of worms I could talk about forever. Which ties nicely into the purpose behind this blogging every day exercise- accessing my own thoughts.
Bis morgen!
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Reflection #2: On Grad School
Graduate school is a fun topic, because it is constantly being informed by the experiences and opinions of directors I meet, panels, job opportunities (or lack thereof), and the other artists who are in or have been to graduate school. Over the summer, I planned trips to SoCal and Chicago (surrounding football games) in order to visit grad schools I was interested in, namely UCSD with a possible trip to CalArts in SoCal, and Northwestern and DePaul in Chicago. However, the closer the trips came, the less I wanted to go. I love Naomi Iizuka's playwriting program at UCSD, but it turns out the Directing program is now very avant-garde & believes in the director as auteur, which is not at all what Les Waters ran back in the days when all of my favorite female directors went there, and the word on the street is that the two programs don't get along. One of my biggest priorities in grad school is a strong collaboration between the directing and writing programs, so all of my UCSD dreams began to fall apart when faced with reality and I decided it wasn't worth the trip. Three years in San Diego does not have enough to offer me without a strong belief in the program.
As I distanced myself from what I had believed to be my ideal school, I became disenchanted with the idea of grad school entirely. A trip home (part of the initially planned SoCal trip) included a meeting with my college advisor who asked why I wanted to go to grad school anyway. The only answer I could come up with was the community of other student-artists. He asked if that one reason was worth the time, money and effort in grad school. As I considered the community and world I have begun to build in New York, the answer was clearly no.
On returning to NYC, I wondered to myself under what circumstance I would still want to go to grad school. And the answer was Yale. Oh Yale. Do I need Yale? Probably not. Would I get into Yale? Probably not. But the incredible playwrights, actors, designers, managers and other directors I would meet plus the prestige of that degree weigh so heavily in my mind, as I meet time and time again people from all disciplines whose work I love and whose careers I would love to follow and/or take part in, who share that honor.
So despite my disenchanted view, when the time came around to register for Visiting Day I hopped on the wagon. If nothing else, I have never been to the campus, and I was sure to learn a lot. Plus I convinced two actor friends to go with me so I wouldn't have to make the journey alone. And last Thursday I hopped on the Metro North to New Haven and embarked on a day of networking, note-taking and knowledge-gaining.
I think I got a great balanced perspective of the School of Drama, and with it, what to expect from any MFA Directing Program to some degree.
As I distanced myself from what I had believed to be my ideal school, I became disenchanted with the idea of grad school entirely. A trip home (part of the initially planned SoCal trip) included a meeting with my college advisor who asked why I wanted to go to grad school anyway. The only answer I could come up with was the community of other student-artists. He asked if that one reason was worth the time, money and effort in grad school. As I considered the community and world I have begun to build in New York, the answer was clearly no.
On returning to NYC, I wondered to myself under what circumstance I would still want to go to grad school. And the answer was Yale. Oh Yale. Do I need Yale? Probably not. Would I get into Yale? Probably not. But the incredible playwrights, actors, designers, managers and other directors I would meet plus the prestige of that degree weigh so heavily in my mind, as I meet time and time again people from all disciplines whose work I love and whose careers I would love to follow and/or take part in, who share that honor.
So despite my disenchanted view, when the time came around to register for Visiting Day I hopped on the wagon. If nothing else, I have never been to the campus, and I was sure to learn a lot. Plus I convinced two actor friends to go with me so I wouldn't have to make the journey alone. And last Thursday I hopped on the Metro North to New Haven and embarked on a day of networking, note-taking and knowledge-gaining.
I think I got a great balanced perspective of the School of Drama, and with it, what to expect from any MFA Directing Program to some degree.
- The Dean will know how to sell his (or her) school. That doesn't make it any less awesome, but does need to be taken with a grain of salt. As he stood there trying to convince us why it was the best school, one had to consider that 900 actors applied last year for 16 spots. It's not like they're begging for applicants.
- Liz Diamond was incredibly inspiring. I loved the feeling of sitting around the table in the tiny classroom above the Yale Cabaret and listening to her talk- I could do that for three years. Leadership and collaboration. I'll listen to lectures on those any day of the week.
- Reality check #1: You may have to direct plays that just aren't ready for a production, or that you're not in love with. It's certainly something to remember that just because you're in grad school doesn't mean that you have your pick of what you want to do... and it's also a potential downside to a relationship with a writing department. You may not click with the writers, and then what? So much for the benefit of that collaboration between programs I hold in so high regard.
- Reality check #2: I truly believe that in order to get the best possible experience out of grad school, you have to be in a place where you can take three years out of your life to devote to it. Those shows you've been collaborating on, or that long distance relationship? Not going to happen while you're in grad school. Not for directing. It's a 100% commitment. Which is thrilling. But also a reality check in the sense that I know I'm not ready to do that right now. I would really need to hit a point where I felt so stuck or so in need of further education that I could afford to throw everything out the window. And I think the people who can do that are the people that succeed in grad school, as well.
- New Haven is really not that far from New York. I should go there to see theatre more often. But once you're in New Haven for school, I would not expect to go to the city at all.
- Prospective Yale directors are pretty awesome people. This is an important note. :-)
- You have to know why you're going to grad school. An MFA in directing is NOT something to get for the degree. Even though it really may seem like that's a good enough reason 364 days of the year.
- The pizza at BAR in New Haven is pretty fantastic. But generally I should eat more than a croissant at 12pm and half a large pizza at 8pm. This is more of a note for my personal well-being.
Monday, November 15, 2010
Reflection #1: On Writing
I have eleven pages of notes from the last eight days, resulting from a combination of an incredible directing intensive with Leigh Silverman at the Einhorn School of Performing Arts (@Primary Stages), a trip to the Yale School of Drama, a networking workshop with the singular Michael Roderick and a One-on-One Conversation with Jonathan Moscone and Anne Kauffman. Eleven pages of notes and no time to process. So I'm taking the first of what I hope to be many moments of reflection to write in here.
Reflection #1: On Writing.
My first realization, reflection and resolve from the past eight days is that I need to write more. When I write, I am able to process all of the thoughts in my head and vocalize them that much more clearly when the opportunity arises. Therefore, once a day for the next eight days I am going to write a short post reflecting on some thought or discovery from the past week and a day. For all that I tell people I hate writing and cannot write, I love sorting my thoughts into cohesive ideas and pontificating on a variety of subjects- as you already know if you read this blog. During the directing intensive, Leigh Silverman spoke about the importance of writing skills for a director, citing the need to communicate a vision, a proposal and even a personality through writing. Recognizing that I ramble a lot and that I need to be much more clear and concise both in my directing as well as in my presentation of myself, writing is a tool through which to practice creating those concise ideas. I recall feeling much more focused when I was writing in this blog consistently last spring, and I am hoping to get back into the habit to refocus myself on what it is that I'm doing, why I'm doing it and how I can improve myself professionally and personally.
As always, and perhaps more so than before, this blog is a personal challenge and endeavor, but I invite you to come along for the ride!
Reflection #1: On Writing.
My first realization, reflection and resolve from the past eight days is that I need to write more. When I write, I am able to process all of the thoughts in my head and vocalize them that much more clearly when the opportunity arises. Therefore, once a day for the next eight days I am going to write a short post reflecting on some thought or discovery from the past week and a day. For all that I tell people I hate writing and cannot write, I love sorting my thoughts into cohesive ideas and pontificating on a variety of subjects- as you already know if you read this blog. During the directing intensive, Leigh Silverman spoke about the importance of writing skills for a director, citing the need to communicate a vision, a proposal and even a personality through writing. Recognizing that I ramble a lot and that I need to be much more clear and concise both in my directing as well as in my presentation of myself, writing is a tool through which to practice creating those concise ideas. I recall feeling much more focused when I was writing in this blog consistently last spring, and I am hoping to get back into the habit to refocus myself on what it is that I'm doing, why I'm doing it and how I can improve myself professionally and personally.
As always, and perhaps more so than before, this blog is a personal challenge and endeavor, but I invite you to come along for the ride!
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
RAVEL by Samantha Collier
Dear friends, mentors and colleagues,
I sincerely hope you can make it out to see my new play, Ravel by Samantha Collier, playing August 5th-15th in NYC. I have been working on the play since seeing a reading of it in July 2009, and have been shepherding it towards production ever since, so this show is very exciting and important to me. The play is smart, imaginative and funny, and also marks the inaugural production of my new company, Theater Nyx, which has been another year in the making. The mission of Theater Nyx is to conceive, develop and produce theater with the highest artistic standards while providing artists with opportunity for growth and collaboration. Ravel will run at Looking Glass Theatre for two weekends in August with a wonderful cast and a stunning design team, several members of which currently work on the crew of Avenue Q. We are in rehearsals now, and every day I am thrilled at what all of these wonderful people have to offer. Please come see this show!
I sincerely hope you can make it out to see my new play, Ravel by Samantha Collier, playing August 5th-15th in NYC. I have been working on the play since seeing a reading of it in July 2009, and have been shepherding it towards production ever since, so this show is very exciting and important to me. The play is smart, imaginative and funny, and also marks the inaugural production of my new company, Theater Nyx, which has been another year in the making. The mission of Theater Nyx is to conceive, develop and produce theater with the highest artistic standards while providing artists with opportunity for growth and collaboration. Ravel will run at Looking Glass Theatre for two weekends in August with a wonderful cast and a stunning design team, several members of which currently work on the crew of Avenue Q. We are in rehearsals now, and every day I am thrilled at what all of these wonderful people have to offer. Please come see this show!
Theater Nyx in conjunction with the Looking Glass Space Grant Program presents
RAVEL
by Samantha Collier
directed by Alex Mallory
Featuring Samantha Cooper, Kelsey Moore and Elizabeth Claire Taylor
For thousands of years, the three Fates have spun and measured human lives. But when a thread breaks, and a woman dies, they must leave their posts to set things right. Meanwhile, the woman's mother and daughter struggle to understand her mysterious death, her research on frog extinction and each other.
AUGUST 5, 6, 7, 12, 13, 14 @8, AUGUST 8 & 15 @5
Tickets $18, $15 with valid student/senior ID at the door
Looking Glass Theatre: 422 W 57th St, NY NY
www.lookingglasstheatrenyc.com for tickets!
www.theaternyx.com for more information on the production and our company
RAVEL
by Samantha Collier
directed by Alex Mallory
Featuring Samantha Cooper, Kelsey Moore and Elizabeth Claire Taylor
For thousands of years, the three Fates have spun and measured human lives. But when a thread breaks, and a woman dies, they must leave their posts to set things right. Meanwhile, the woman's mother and daughter struggle to understand her mysterious death, her research on frog extinction and each other.
AUGUST 5, 6, 7, 12, 13, 14 @8, AUGUST 8 & 15 @5
Tickets $18, $15 with valid student/senior ID at the door
Looking Glass Theatre: 422 W 57th St, NY NY
www.lookingglasstheatrenyc.com for tickets!
www.theaternyx.com for more information on the production and our company
Sunday, April 25, 2010
Theatricality
Often my friends ask me what I mean when I say "theatrical". Recently I've started collecting simple theatrical ideas around which I can imagine creating an entire show. At risk of giving away my brainchildren, I won't share those but rather share some of my favorite theatrical moments as seen onstage.
A hearing-impaired actor tells his story through sign-language and choreography in tandem with his hearing, speaking counterpart. -Deaf West's production of Big River
A family of minstrels in blackface moves in next door. -Neighbors at the Public
The audience enters across the stage, on display for the already seated audience, and becomes part of a play about the Moscow theatre hostage crisis. -We Declare You A Terrorist at the Public
An actor switches hats and voices and has a conversation with himself, perceived as two different characters- Lebensraum
A rolling staircase moves to create different worlds, connecting and disconnecting places, people and time- Ragtime (Broadway Revival)
The emcee moves a briefcase and drops a brick through a window (oh wait, I did that) - Cabaret
With those ideas in mind, theatricality is usually a combination of the writing and the direction (and in the case of the staircase direction and design). Most of these deal with presentation- how moments are presented onstage. Some are the ideas of the playwright, such as Lebensraum, and others are imaginations of the director, such as Big River, but they are all about layering the text with an extra element that differentiates a play on the page from watching it onstage. In Cabaret, a brick being thrown though a window in a movie or on the page is disruptive, and we see the hate-filled world outside breaking into the beauty of the inside world... but when the Emcee drops the brick, the audience links it into the commentary of the play, because the Emcee is telling us a story that is layered on top of the dialogue. In most productions of the show, the last moment involves the Emcee revealing himself- to be Jewish, to be a Nazi, to be a concentration camp prisoner- and the audience is asked to think back and ask if the Emcee has really just been telling his own story all along. By setting the entire show in an actual cabaret in the 98 Sam Mendes revival, the show became about the cabaret, and the story of Sally Bowles is being told for the purpose of understanding the world of the cabaret (and the emcee), as opposed to the other way around, where the cabaret serves as a way of understanding (or commenting on) the story.
Now try creating that feeling in a 1600 seat proscenium theater. The best I could do was to draw the Emcee's story more vividly by adding in moments that aren't in the text where he tells the story: moving the briefcase, dropping the brick, etc. (I had no idea that this post was going to be about Cabaret- but the show is essentially one big example of theatricality).
I put Neighbors on the list because I think that situations can have inherent theatricality to them, which creates exciting plays out of the premise on which they are based. And the most exciting playwrights create and imagine those moments, which can then be realized by the director, design team, etc.
Theatricality is what separates theatre from other performance, film and life. In its simplest form, it is an actor performing a part in front of an audience. What I comment on here as theatricality is a moment or choice that heightens the awareness of that trinity.
A footnote: I believe that the magic of Brecht's alienation is that we cannot separate ourselves from it, because there are people there, actors and characters layered on top of each other, who feel real things- and alienation forces us to consider what we feel about those things, but it does not remove our feelings.
A hearing-impaired actor tells his story through sign-language and choreography in tandem with his hearing, speaking counterpart. -Deaf West's production of Big River
A family of minstrels in blackface moves in next door. -Neighbors at the Public
The audience enters across the stage, on display for the already seated audience, and becomes part of a play about the Moscow theatre hostage crisis. -We Declare You A Terrorist at the Public
An actor switches hats and voices and has a conversation with himself, perceived as two different characters- Lebensraum
A rolling staircase moves to create different worlds, connecting and disconnecting places, people and time- Ragtime (Broadway Revival)
The emcee moves a briefcase and drops a brick through a window (oh wait, I did that) - Cabaret
With those ideas in mind, theatricality is usually a combination of the writing and the direction (and in the case of the staircase direction and design). Most of these deal with presentation- how moments are presented onstage. Some are the ideas of the playwright, such as Lebensraum, and others are imaginations of the director, such as Big River, but they are all about layering the text with an extra element that differentiates a play on the page from watching it onstage. In Cabaret, a brick being thrown though a window in a movie or on the page is disruptive, and we see the hate-filled world outside breaking into the beauty of the inside world... but when the Emcee drops the brick, the audience links it into the commentary of the play, because the Emcee is telling us a story that is layered on top of the dialogue. In most productions of the show, the last moment involves the Emcee revealing himself- to be Jewish, to be a Nazi, to be a concentration camp prisoner- and the audience is asked to think back and ask if the Emcee has really just been telling his own story all along. By setting the entire show in an actual cabaret in the 98 Sam Mendes revival, the show became about the cabaret, and the story of Sally Bowles is being told for the purpose of understanding the world of the cabaret (and the emcee), as opposed to the other way around, where the cabaret serves as a way of understanding (or commenting on) the story.
Now try creating that feeling in a 1600 seat proscenium theater. The best I could do was to draw the Emcee's story more vividly by adding in moments that aren't in the text where he tells the story: moving the briefcase, dropping the brick, etc. (I had no idea that this post was going to be about Cabaret- but the show is essentially one big example of theatricality).
I put Neighbors on the list because I think that situations can have inherent theatricality to them, which creates exciting plays out of the premise on which they are based. And the most exciting playwrights create and imagine those moments, which can then be realized by the director, design team, etc.
Theatricality is what separates theatre from other performance, film and life. In its simplest form, it is an actor performing a part in front of an audience. What I comment on here as theatricality is a moment or choice that heightens the awareness of that trinity.
A footnote: I believe that the magic of Brecht's alienation is that we cannot separate ourselves from it, because there are people there, actors and characters layered on top of each other, who feel real things- and alienation forces us to consider what we feel about those things, but it does not remove our feelings.
Thursday, April 8, 2010
The personal life of an artist
I had a revealing conversation with a playwright friend a couple of weeks ago about the personal life of an artist. He was writing a play in which a man leaves his family to go pursue art in New York City and doesn't look back.
It's a self-fulfilling prophecy. The only place in America where an arts culture of real opportunity and success is alive is in New York City. So people leave their homes and their loved ones and pursue their dreams. We cannot live in our little town in whatever random state we want to live in and live the personal life we want as well as achieve our professional goals. We are forced with the decision to estrange ourselves or sacrifice our dreams. And as artists, what are we but people who believe that one should pursue one's dreams?
I want to have a family. I want to be a director. I do not want to live in New York City in the long term. How am I supposed to resolve that? And do I have to wait until I'm 30 before I can even start thinking about finding someone to spend the rest of my life with? I don't work that way. I fall in love. I love people. People are 95% of the reason I do theatre in the first place. Why should I then leave the people I love behind to work with and perform for a bunch of strangers?
Even in other big arts cities, those who do make their lives there have to work so much harder to find the same kind of opportunity, and are often dissatisfied by the quality of work or the quality of community. I was bored living in San Francisco. The arts community felt dead, despite pockets of exciting work and wonderful people. How can we enliven the arts community across the country, increase jobs, increase quality of work, and make art a viable career anywhere? It would require money that the government is not about to start spending. Artists need jobs too!
I cannot resolve the personal life I want with the career path I've chosen. And I cannot imagine that I am the only person out there who feels this way. What are we supposed to do?
It's a self-fulfilling prophecy. The only place in America where an arts culture of real opportunity and success is alive is in New York City. So people leave their homes and their loved ones and pursue their dreams. We cannot live in our little town in whatever random state we want to live in and live the personal life we want as well as achieve our professional goals. We are forced with the decision to estrange ourselves or sacrifice our dreams. And as artists, what are we but people who believe that one should pursue one's dreams?
I want to have a family. I want to be a director. I do not want to live in New York City in the long term. How am I supposed to resolve that? And do I have to wait until I'm 30 before I can even start thinking about finding someone to spend the rest of my life with? I don't work that way. I fall in love. I love people. People are 95% of the reason I do theatre in the first place. Why should I then leave the people I love behind to work with and perform for a bunch of strangers?
Even in other big arts cities, those who do make their lives there have to work so much harder to find the same kind of opportunity, and are often dissatisfied by the quality of work or the quality of community. I was bored living in San Francisco. The arts community felt dead, despite pockets of exciting work and wonderful people. How can we enliven the arts community across the country, increase jobs, increase quality of work, and make art a viable career anywhere? It would require money that the government is not about to start spending. Artists need jobs too!
I cannot resolve the personal life I want with the career path I've chosen. And I cannot imagine that I am the only person out there who feels this way. What are we supposed to do?
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Theatre criticism.
Why does the entire theatre community live and die by the words of white men? Ben Brantley. Charles Isherwood. Rob Hurwitt (for those in the Bay Area). Jason Zinoman. Not much has changed since the days of Clive Barnes and Frank Rich.
Apparently there is a woman, Anita Gates, who writes off-Broadway reviews for the New York Times. Of course I didn't know that until I went and looked it up, because she doesn't write any reviews that make or break shows. Somehow I doubt this is all her fault (although I can't speak for her taste, as her twitter account is full of American Idol and her blog is theatergossip.com).
I ranted last week about Isherwood's review of Neighbors. And today I read Theresa Rebeck's keynote address from the Laura Pels the other night, in which she mentioned how a NYTimes review ruined her career for several years. Everyone knew the review was horrible, but none the less she lost a number of regional theatre productions and publication in American Theatre Magazine... but don't just read my summary, read the speech: http://womenandhollywood.com/2010/03/16/text-of-theresa-rebeck-laura-pels-keynote-address/ (anyone interested in gender disparity in theatre or just in powerful storytelling should read this speech)
Needless to say, the review was written by a white man. The wonderful playwright David Wiener, who I met at the Lark, mentioned just last night having a review written by the same man that made him not want to write anymore. What does the reviewing world do to young playwrights? We need to encourage talent, not shove it back into a hole... or there will be no diversity in theatre.
I wonder how the theatre world will change with the New York Times talking about charging for internet access, and other papers shutting down their print copies entirely and firing their theatre critics. I can't imagine the Times and having half as much influence as it does now (which is in itself half as much influence as it had a few years ago). Will theatre audiences turn to the blog world to decide whether shows live and die? Will criticism become obsolete? I think this is a huge question for theatre. I personally have not found the quality of internet criticism anywhere near the quality of print criticism... it requires an interesting state of mind to be able to write off a single review (of Neighbors, for example), and then read the same critic's review of other plays and take them at their word. Should I just not trust anything the New York Times tells me because I liked one play they did not? That would be like saying I wouldn't like Naomi Iizuka's Concerning Strange Devices from the Distant West at Berkeley Rep because Rob Hurwitt loved it, and he didn't like another play that I liked (I haven't seen it, but it sounds amazing. Or maybe that's just me taking Rob Hurwitt at face value?). I can't do that. One has to believe that the critics are right some of the time, even if they are wrong in others. Because the entire world looks to them to tell them whether or not a show is worth their money and energy. These days I only want to attend theatre based on the recommendations of friends because I can't trust anything written on the internet or in the newspaper. But theatres can't run on audiences of friends (who, like me, would rather not pay full price, or at all). And so they are dependent on the critics.
Both related to this post and to the last, I saw Clybourne Park on Sunday (closing night). For those of you who don't know, this is the more-talked about "race play" (than Neighbors) set in the white neighborhood that Lorraine Hansberry's characters planned to move into in Raisin in the Sun. The first act is at the time of the white family moving out in 1959, the second act is when a white family wants to move in to the now black, downtrodden neighborhood in 2009. The dialogue was quick and witty, but I did not feel that it went much deeper than that... and told a story that has already been told a dozen times. While the topic is fresh and interesting, the play did not reveal anything to me that I did not already know, it just put it onstage.
It felt, all things considered, that it had been written by a white man.
And Ben Brantley loved it.
That's all I'm saying.
And on that note, I am off to buy some Chinese snacks, so that the critics who come to see my show don't harp on the fact that the words on the labels are Japanese. Because something like that might color the entire review, even if they don't mention the snacks themselves. Seriously, if we knew what exactly the moment was when a reviewer decided they didn't like the play, I don't think we would trust reviews at all. For instance, I decided I didn't like Othello in Ashland because I was against the use of flourescent tube lights. Was I paying attention to anything else? Nope. Don't trust my review, please. Reviews should come with a warning: "Distracted by prop/set/lights. Did not pay attention to the play".
Have a great Tuesday!
Apparently there is a woman, Anita Gates, who writes off-Broadway reviews for the New York Times. Of course I didn't know that until I went and looked it up, because she doesn't write any reviews that make or break shows. Somehow I doubt this is all her fault (although I can't speak for her taste, as her twitter account is full of American Idol and her blog is theatergossip.com).
I ranted last week about Isherwood's review of Neighbors. And today I read Theresa Rebeck's keynote address from the Laura Pels the other night, in which she mentioned how a NYTimes review ruined her career for several years. Everyone knew the review was horrible, but none the less she lost a number of regional theatre productions and publication in American Theatre Magazine... but don't just read my summary, read the speech: http://womenandhollywood.com/2010/03/16/text-of-theresa-rebeck-laura-pels-keynote-address/ (anyone interested in gender disparity in theatre or just in powerful storytelling should read this speech)
Needless to say, the review was written by a white man. The wonderful playwright David Wiener, who I met at the Lark, mentioned just last night having a review written by the same man that made him not want to write anymore. What does the reviewing world do to young playwrights? We need to encourage talent, not shove it back into a hole... or there will be no diversity in theatre.
I wonder how the theatre world will change with the New York Times talking about charging for internet access, and other papers shutting down their print copies entirely and firing their theatre critics. I can't imagine the Times and having half as much influence as it does now (which is in itself half as much influence as it had a few years ago). Will theatre audiences turn to the blog world to decide whether shows live and die? Will criticism become obsolete? I think this is a huge question for theatre. I personally have not found the quality of internet criticism anywhere near the quality of print criticism... it requires an interesting state of mind to be able to write off a single review (of Neighbors, for example), and then read the same critic's review of other plays and take them at their word. Should I just not trust anything the New York Times tells me because I liked one play they did not? That would be like saying I wouldn't like Naomi Iizuka's Concerning Strange Devices from the Distant West at Berkeley Rep because Rob Hurwitt loved it, and he didn't like another play that I liked (I haven't seen it, but it sounds amazing. Or maybe that's just me taking Rob Hurwitt at face value?). I can't do that. One has to believe that the critics are right some of the time, even if they are wrong in others. Because the entire world looks to them to tell them whether or not a show is worth their money and energy. These days I only want to attend theatre based on the recommendations of friends because I can't trust anything written on the internet or in the newspaper. But theatres can't run on audiences of friends (who, like me, would rather not pay full price, or at all). And so they are dependent on the critics.
Both related to this post and to the last, I saw Clybourne Park on Sunday (closing night). For those of you who don't know, this is the more-talked about "race play" (than Neighbors) set in the white neighborhood that Lorraine Hansberry's characters planned to move into in Raisin in the Sun. The first act is at the time of the white family moving out in 1959, the second act is when a white family wants to move in to the now black, downtrodden neighborhood in 2009. The dialogue was quick and witty, but I did not feel that it went much deeper than that... and told a story that has already been told a dozen times. While the topic is fresh and interesting, the play did not reveal anything to me that I did not already know, it just put it onstage.
It felt, all things considered, that it had been written by a white man.
And Ben Brantley loved it.
That's all I'm saying.
And on that note, I am off to buy some Chinese snacks, so that the critics who come to see my show don't harp on the fact that the words on the labels are Japanese. Because something like that might color the entire review, even if they don't mention the snacks themselves. Seriously, if we knew what exactly the moment was when a reviewer decided they didn't like the play, I don't think we would trust reviews at all. For instance, I decided I didn't like Othello in Ashland because I was against the use of flourescent tube lights. Was I paying attention to anything else? Nope. Don't trust my review, please. Reviews should come with a warning: "Distracted by prop/set/lights. Did not pay attention to the play".
Have a great Tuesday!
Thursday, March 11, 2010
I saw a play and it blew my mind.
So the funny thing is that originally this post was going to be about race in theatre. But writing by myself about race felt disingenuous, so I stopped.
And then tonight I saw NEIGHBORS at The Public. Written by Branden Jacobs-Jenkins, a member of the 2009-2010 Emerging Writers Group (and Princeton '06 grad... woah). The play was presented in the Shiva (The Public's black box space) as part of Public Lab, and is currently in its one week extension which ends Sunday.
I have never been so moved by a piece of theatre. Not because of its subject matter or its sensationalism (one of the two families is dressed in minstrel costumes with blackface for the entire production) but rather because of the perfection to which Mr. Jacobs-Jenkins captures tragedy. The middle-aged adjunct professor and father gives the audience (his Greek Theatre class) a vibrant lecture on tragedy near the beginning of the play. Whatever we think we understand about tragedy in the moment cannot compare to watching his world fall apart around him, alongside laughter and love shared between the other characters. THEN I understood tragedy.
I cannot even begin to understand how Charles Isherwood could have written the things he did in his review. It is the review written by someone who hated the premise of the play and within the first five minutes decided he hated it. Someone who really doesn't understand and doesn't want to participate in the world of the play. I think he found the professor to be the only character he could potentially identify with (it's a bit of a stretch, but still) and had to watch the man be ruined. I bet he hated "Bamboozled", too.
The play was three hours and I would not have lost a second of it. It is so rare to see a successful three hour play of any kind, but I was transfixed from start to finish. My friend and I walked out in a daze, exchanging a couple of words for every minute of contemplation that passed between us as we made our way onto the subway until I departed her company.
And it wasn't "about race". It was, but it wasn't. It was about the role race plays in our lives, and particularly in the identity of one man who loses his race along with the rest of his life. I believe this text should be taught in every playwrights of color and performing race class, and plan on e-mailing my professors of those classes and telling them so.
If you actually want to read about race in theatre, check out the Soho rep conversation on colorblind casting: http://www.sohorep.org/feed/2010/01/what-is-color-blind-casting-discussion-now-available-on-line/
And this blog that was published in between me writing the original ideas for this post and today. http://rantsravesandrethoughts.blogspot.com/2010/03/race-in-theatre.html
Next on my to see list: Clybourne Park at Playwrights Horizons and Race on Broadway. And my roommate just texted me to ask if I want to see the former on Wednesday. Sweet.
And with that, I’m out.
P.S. The article which prompted my original post: http://www.nytimes.com/2010/02/28/magazine/28Alabama-t.html
It’s really long, but if you have the time and interest, it’s a fascinating article.
And then tonight I saw NEIGHBORS at The Public. Written by Branden Jacobs-Jenkins, a member of the 2009-2010 Emerging Writers Group (and Princeton '06 grad... woah). The play was presented in the Shiva (The Public's black box space) as part of Public Lab, and is currently in its one week extension which ends Sunday.
I have never been so moved by a piece of theatre. Not because of its subject matter or its sensationalism (one of the two families is dressed in minstrel costumes with blackface for the entire production) but rather because of the perfection to which Mr. Jacobs-Jenkins captures tragedy. The middle-aged adjunct professor and father gives the audience (his Greek Theatre class) a vibrant lecture on tragedy near the beginning of the play. Whatever we think we understand about tragedy in the moment cannot compare to watching his world fall apart around him, alongside laughter and love shared between the other characters. THEN I understood tragedy.
I cannot even begin to understand how Charles Isherwood could have written the things he did in his review. It is the review written by someone who hated the premise of the play and within the first five minutes decided he hated it. Someone who really doesn't understand and doesn't want to participate in the world of the play. I think he found the professor to be the only character he could potentially identify with (it's a bit of a stretch, but still) and had to watch the man be ruined. I bet he hated "Bamboozled", too.
The play was three hours and I would not have lost a second of it. It is so rare to see a successful three hour play of any kind, but I was transfixed from start to finish. My friend and I walked out in a daze, exchanging a couple of words for every minute of contemplation that passed between us as we made our way onto the subway until I departed her company.
And it wasn't "about race". It was, but it wasn't. It was about the role race plays in our lives, and particularly in the identity of one man who loses his race along with the rest of his life. I believe this text should be taught in every playwrights of color and performing race class, and plan on e-mailing my professors of those classes and telling them so.
If you actually want to read about race in theatre, check out the Soho rep conversation on colorblind casting: http://www.sohorep.org/feed/2010/01/what-is-color-blind-casting-discussion-now-available-on-line/
And this blog that was published in between me writing the original ideas for this post and today. http://rantsravesandrethoughts.blogspot.com/2010/03/race-in-theatre.html
Next on my to see list: Clybourne Park at Playwrights Horizons and Race on Broadway. And my roommate just texted me to ask if I want to see the former on Wednesday. Sweet.
And with that, I’m out.
P.S. The article which prompted my original post: http://www.nytimes.com/2010/02/28/magazine/28Alabama-t.html
It’s really long, but if you have the time and interest, it’s a fascinating article.
Sunday, February 21, 2010
Musings on Young Artists and New Plays (and the wisdom of JoAnne Akalaitis)
"I feel that there's too much careerism and not enough just plain old American entrepeneurs on the level of what what we did in the early seventies, which is let's get some money and do our own production with our own group of actors and try and get people to see it. Let's do our own work."
Two years ago I had the unique experience of witnessing the rehearsal process of JoAnne Akalaitis and Philip Glass's rendition of The Bacchae for The Public Theater, when they were in residency at Stanford in 2007 developing an early workshop of the production (produced in Central Park in the 2009 Shakespeare in the Park season). At the time, one of my responsibilities was to keep a blog, and I found myself inspired day to day by JoAnne's little bits of wisdom as they played into rehearsal. She is a controversial person in the theatre world, and while I don't necessarily agree with her artistic choices (as regards the Bacchae, which was the only production of hers I've seen) I have a lot of respect for the woman's incredible knowledge and wisdom.
Today I was listening to an interview with JoAnne (which I will post a link to when it's available at American Theatre Wing in a few weeks) and I found myself writing "OH MY GOSH JOANNE AKALAITIS YOU SPEAK SO MUCH TRUTH" [sic]. This was in particular regard to what it means to enter the world of directing today. She states that there is too much "careerism", with directors vying for a coveted assistant director role or directing internship, when really they should get out and find some money and put on shows. She points out that even programs directed at emerging artists (such as TCG's new generations grants) are now taking people well into their careers. I felt like the last year of my life was being quoted back at me: from applying to these programs that seemed to apply to me as a young director and yet the other (successful) applicants were 5-10 years older than me to starting a theatre company to do the theatre I really want to do because that is my goal in this city. Rather than find someone else's network to be a part of, I want to create my own. And I am interested in the establishment of some sort of network for these young artists. The closest I've found is the New York Network (American Associates) of the Old Vic New Voices Network, which is aimed at artists aged 21-30, but I can't figure out how to be a part of that. I'm going to an event of theirs on Tuesday, so I am looking forward to learning more about them at that point. Even the existence of this network shows that Europeans are immensely more successful at supporting their young artists, and specifically their young directors. Last year I discovered INSTED (http://www.insted.eu/) - a European network specifically designed for young directors. I thought I was interested in establishing something like that, but honestly I am more interested in bringing a whole community of young artists together, because as again JoAnne Akalaitis points out, what good are directors just talking to each other? We have to do theatre and we have to see theatre, and then we can talk about it.
One of the things that I'm trying to change through my personal relationships with writers is the establishment that picks up young talented writers and hands them experienced directors. While that may be great for the writer, sometimes it is stifling to have the strong hand of a director who has been around the block in the development of one's play. Obviously one of the things it requires is a director who is good with new work. But who's to say that only proven directors are good with new work? Couldn't an even stronger collaboration come out of a new playwright paired with a new director, who can bring their own fresh perspectives to the theatre? I believe that that would enable theatre to move forward, rather than being recreated in its own image, as we so often see new plays turn into when helmed by the profession's masters. I am not out to change theatre into a multimedia circus extravaganza. I like theatre as it is, (to quote JoAnne): "live, communal art", which is about "the engagement between what is happening onstage and the audience". I want to sit with a playwright who I've shared the same 23 years of life with and talk about all of the wonderful things that excite me about the piece and what I imagine onstage, how it relates to my own world and to theirs, to politics and religion, to science and family. I believe in new play development from the bottom of my heart. I love what the Lark does, what the Kennedy Center does, what Playwrights Foundation and The Public and Arena Stage do. But it pains me to see the wonderful playwrights of my world be swept away from me by the machine, and the machine gives me no way to get involved.
It is my goal this year to meet those playwrights. I want to be part of the new play movement NOW. Not in 2020. And hopefully as that evolves I will establish an entire community of young artists (which I will grow out of and will hopefully continue without me), who, rather than applying for the elusive internship or settling for a less active pursuit of their directing goals, will have each other to draw on, to support, and to create theater with.
Thank you JoAnne for your inspiration, then and now.
1 2 3 Shakespeare. Oops. I mean Go.
Two years ago I had the unique experience of witnessing the rehearsal process of JoAnne Akalaitis and Philip Glass's rendition of The Bacchae for The Public Theater, when they were in residency at Stanford in 2007 developing an early workshop of the production (produced in Central Park in the 2009 Shakespeare in the Park season). At the time, one of my responsibilities was to keep a blog, and I found myself inspired day to day by JoAnne's little bits of wisdom as they played into rehearsal. She is a controversial person in the theatre world, and while I don't necessarily agree with her artistic choices (as regards the Bacchae, which was the only production of hers I've seen) I have a lot of respect for the woman's incredible knowledge and wisdom.
Today I was listening to an interview with JoAnne (which I will post a link to when it's available at American Theatre Wing in a few weeks) and I found myself writing "OH MY GOSH JOANNE AKALAITIS YOU SPEAK SO MUCH TRUTH" [sic]. This was in particular regard to what it means to enter the world of directing today. She states that there is too much "careerism", with directors vying for a coveted assistant director role or directing internship, when really they should get out and find some money and put on shows. She points out that even programs directed at emerging artists (such as TCG's new generations grants) are now taking people well into their careers. I felt like the last year of my life was being quoted back at me: from applying to these programs that seemed to apply to me as a young director and yet the other (successful) applicants were 5-10 years older than me to starting a theatre company to do the theatre I really want to do because that is my goal in this city. Rather than find someone else's network to be a part of, I want to create my own. And I am interested in the establishment of some sort of network for these young artists. The closest I've found is the New York Network (American Associates) of the Old Vic New Voices Network, which is aimed at artists aged 21-30, but I can't figure out how to be a part of that. I'm going to an event of theirs on Tuesday, so I am looking forward to learning more about them at that point. Even the existence of this network shows that Europeans are immensely more successful at supporting their young artists, and specifically their young directors. Last year I discovered INSTED (http://www.insted.eu/) - a European network specifically designed for young directors. I thought I was interested in establishing something like that, but honestly I am more interested in bringing a whole community of young artists together, because as again JoAnne Akalaitis points out, what good are directors just talking to each other? We have to do theatre and we have to see theatre, and then we can talk about it.
One of the things that I'm trying to change through my personal relationships with writers is the establishment that picks up young talented writers and hands them experienced directors. While that may be great for the writer, sometimes it is stifling to have the strong hand of a director who has been around the block in the development of one's play. Obviously one of the things it requires is a director who is good with new work. But who's to say that only proven directors are good with new work? Couldn't an even stronger collaboration come out of a new playwright paired with a new director, who can bring their own fresh perspectives to the theatre? I believe that that would enable theatre to move forward, rather than being recreated in its own image, as we so often see new plays turn into when helmed by the profession's masters. I am not out to change theatre into a multimedia circus extravaganza. I like theatre as it is, (to quote JoAnne): "live, communal art", which is about "the engagement between what is happening onstage and the audience". I want to sit with a playwright who I've shared the same 23 years of life with and talk about all of the wonderful things that excite me about the piece and what I imagine onstage, how it relates to my own world and to theirs, to politics and religion, to science and family. I believe in new play development from the bottom of my heart. I love what the Lark does, what the Kennedy Center does, what Playwrights Foundation and The Public and Arena Stage do. But it pains me to see the wonderful playwrights of my world be swept away from me by the machine, and the machine gives me no way to get involved.
It is my goal this year to meet those playwrights. I want to be part of the new play movement NOW. Not in 2020. And hopefully as that evolves I will establish an entire community of young artists (which I will grow out of and will hopefully continue without me), who, rather than applying for the elusive internship or settling for a less active pursuit of their directing goals, will have each other to draw on, to support, and to create theater with.
Thank you JoAnne for your inspiration, then and now.
1 2 3 Shakespeare. Oops. I mean Go.
Sunday, February 14, 2010
New Years Resolution: Write More.
“Don’t answer the question they’re asking. Answer the question beneath the question. The equivalent question.” - Father Garnet, Equivocation (Bill Cain)
If you are guarding the king's door and someone arrives to kill the king and asks if the king is within, do you say no and lie, or say yes and let the king die? Do you perform the truthful play and get executed for treason, or do you perform the false play and allow people to believe its lies? This is the dilemma at the heart of Bill Cain's Equivocation, now in previews at Manhattan Theatre Club, directed by Garry Hynes (who won the Joe A. Callaway Award for Excellence in Directing for The Cripple Of Inishmann in 2009).
Somewhere in the play there were a couple of lines that I wish I could rewind and listen to about finding the truth of the story in one's play. Telling the facts (or the facts one is given) but in such a way that it reveals the truth. At a Roundtable reading I attended at Lark on Thursday, there was a fascinating discussion of truth vs. history. The playwright needed to stay true to history in order to ensure her play was well-received by the Dominicans, whose history it regards. But the actors felt that the drama was in the (fictionalized) relationships of the man with the people around him, and the potential encounters he might have had, rather than the ones he did have. How does one stay true to history and still have an interesting play? History is only so dramatic... the facts of the way things happen isn't nearly as fascinating as the way things could have happened. The drama of a dictator whose power is taken away from him, stripped of history, is an incredible story... and yet Trujillo, to whom it actually happened, is interesting as well, particularly because his story is a part of history that the average theatregoer has never heard before. But if we've never heard it before, then what does it matter if the details are accurate? Because the Dominicans, who have the ability to effectively blackball the play and the playwright from their culture and history (which she spent years proving she was worthy of), care about the details. What an incredible dilemma.
In fact, it's the dilemma in Equivocation. The Dominican community effectively commissioned the play, as Robert Cecil commissioned Shakespeare (or Shagspeare, as he is known in the play) to write the king's version of the gunpowder plot. The playwright is faced with writing a truthful story, which may deviate from the facts at hand but tells a compelling, interesting story, or writing to the letter of the Dominican history. Ultimately, the playwright will have to equivocate in order to write the play that will feel truthful within the factual historical context.
And the fact that I have learned about an entire country's history about which I knew nothing, went on a wonderful fictional journey combining Shakespeare and my birthsake holiday, and can tie the last two plays I saw so intimately together... is why I chose this life.
Happy Valentine's Day!
If you are guarding the king's door and someone arrives to kill the king and asks if the king is within, do you say no and lie, or say yes and let the king die? Do you perform the truthful play and get executed for treason, or do you perform the false play and allow people to believe its lies? This is the dilemma at the heart of Bill Cain's Equivocation, now in previews at Manhattan Theatre Club, directed by Garry Hynes (who won the Joe A. Callaway Award for Excellence in Directing for The Cripple Of Inishmann in 2009).
Somewhere in the play there were a couple of lines that I wish I could rewind and listen to about finding the truth of the story in one's play. Telling the facts (or the facts one is given) but in such a way that it reveals the truth. At a Roundtable reading I attended at Lark on Thursday, there was a fascinating discussion of truth vs. history. The playwright needed to stay true to history in order to ensure her play was well-received by the Dominicans, whose history it regards. But the actors felt that the drama was in the (fictionalized) relationships of the man with the people around him, and the potential encounters he might have had, rather than the ones he did have. How does one stay true to history and still have an interesting play? History is only so dramatic... the facts of the way things happen isn't nearly as fascinating as the way things could have happened. The drama of a dictator whose power is taken away from him, stripped of history, is an incredible story... and yet Trujillo, to whom it actually happened, is interesting as well, particularly because his story is a part of history that the average theatregoer has never heard before. But if we've never heard it before, then what does it matter if the details are accurate? Because the Dominicans, who have the ability to effectively blackball the play and the playwright from their culture and history (which she spent years proving she was worthy of), care about the details. What an incredible dilemma.
In fact, it's the dilemma in Equivocation. The Dominican community effectively commissioned the play, as Robert Cecil commissioned Shakespeare (or Shagspeare, as he is known in the play) to write the king's version of the gunpowder plot. The playwright is faced with writing a truthful story, which may deviate from the facts at hand but tells a compelling, interesting story, or writing to the letter of the Dominican history. Ultimately, the playwright will have to equivocate in order to write the play that will feel truthful within the factual historical context.
And the fact that I have learned about an entire country's history about which I knew nothing, went on a wonderful fictional journey combining Shakespeare and my birthsake holiday, and can tie the last two plays I saw so intimately together... is why I chose this life.
Happy Valentine's Day!
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