A few observations:
1) Know, when you're doing a festival or workshop, what the aims are of the institution. Is it to do a big re-work of your script? To showcase your script for a local or national audience? To get to know you and your work? It could be any of these or more.
2) It's a lovely thing, and an important thing, for everyone in the room to recognize that the playwright is the expert on his or her play. Even if the playwright knows she will learn as much from her director, actors, dramaturg -- you never wanna walk into a room where you feel like you're at the service of the director, an actor. You are there in service of your work. Which means listening hard to everyone and doing what needs doing. Lisa/Meg are great with this.
3) Embrace the director who asks questions of the play and her actors. Find one who keeps telling them/you what to think, and you might wanna run. I'm not saying a director should never lay it on the line, just that you want to make sure there's at least as much Opening Up going on as shutting down. You'll learn more. Lisa Portes is great at this.
4) Don't be afraid of big changes.
5) Try to welcome everyone into the room. Flatten the heirarchy where you can. Good ideas can come from anywhere. That ASM? She's an expert on contemporary literature, and your main character's a writer. If you don't make space for it, you can't use it.
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
First Look Festival, First Read
I'm in Chicago this week, observing Steppenwolf's First Look festival.
One big difference between this and other theatres I've seen is resources. People, space, money -- Steppenwolf has more of each than you see very often (okay, yes, there are plenty of theatres in its league, but not ones where I see the inner workings much). Need a costume? The talented costume designer will render it, make or buy it, and fit it to your actor. Need a rehearsal space? Would you like the Garage or Yandorf Hall? Can't find a lead actor? Ask Erica Daniels, who will find you exactly what you need.
I simplify. I know. And my point is not that this is a Goliath of a company -- it's that the people here are at the TOP OF THEIR GAME. There is a confluence of talent, brains and dedication in the Steppenwolf family, from Artistic Director Martha Lavey to the literary intern they brought on a few days ago (nice post, btw, Michael Van Ness). It's a culture of excellence fostered by the deservedly legendary ensemble, and made possible by smart people with money who recognize that IMPORTANT WORK IS HAPPENING HERE.
And what that means, that culture of excellence, is that Steppenwolf will always strain its resources. Give these guys more space, they will fill it with another show (the "garage theater," which used to be rehearsal space, is a case in point). Give them enough new scripts, and they will dream up (then figure out how to fund) an important new work festival. Steppenwolf, for all its resources, is busting at the seams. The same has been true at virtually every point in its history. It's what make Steppenwolf Steppenwolf -- but I'd argue that it's also what makes great artists great. Testing limits. Busting through ceilings. Waking up with the crazy idea, daring to speak it aloud, and asking "how can we put this into practice?"
I was reminded of that, yesterday, when The Wolf filled Yandorf Hall with actors, directors, dramaturgs, interns, funders, and the occasional fly on the wall (me :) ). To see those kinds of resources marshalled in the service of new work, especially in these dark economic times, was thrilling. And that was before we even heard the plays.
One big difference between this and other theatres I've seen is resources. People, space, money -- Steppenwolf has more of each than you see very often (okay, yes, there are plenty of theatres in its league, but not ones where I see the inner workings much). Need a costume? The talented costume designer will render it, make or buy it, and fit it to your actor. Need a rehearsal space? Would you like the Garage or Yandorf Hall? Can't find a lead actor? Ask Erica Daniels, who will find you exactly what you need.
I simplify. I know. And my point is not that this is a Goliath of a company -- it's that the people here are at the TOP OF THEIR GAME. There is a confluence of talent, brains and dedication in the Steppenwolf family, from Artistic Director Martha Lavey to the literary intern they brought on a few days ago (nice post, btw, Michael Van Ness). It's a culture of excellence fostered by the deservedly legendary ensemble, and made possible by smart people with money who recognize that IMPORTANT WORK IS HAPPENING HERE.
And what that means, that culture of excellence, is that Steppenwolf will always strain its resources. Give these guys more space, they will fill it with another show (the "garage theater," which used to be rehearsal space, is a case in point). Give them enough new scripts, and they will dream up (then figure out how to fund) an important new work festival. Steppenwolf, for all its resources, is busting at the seams. The same has been true at virtually every point in its history. It's what make Steppenwolf Steppenwolf -- but I'd argue that it's also what makes great artists great. Testing limits. Busting through ceilings. Waking up with the crazy idea, daring to speak it aloud, and asking "how can we put this into practice?"
I was reminded of that, yesterday, when The Wolf filled Yandorf Hall with actors, directors, dramaturgs, interns, funders, and the occasional fly on the wall (me :) ). To see those kinds of resources marshalled in the service of new work, especially in these dark economic times, was thrilling. And that was before we even heard the plays.
I don't want to say exciting, but maybe an inciting article in the New York Times today, part of an ongoing conversation about the difficulty female playwrights seem to have in getting to Broadway. This young woman at Princeton put together some pretty strong research that looks at the possible factors involved in that.
http://www.nytimes.com/2009/06/24/theater/24play.html?_r=2&ref=theater
What do I take from it?
1) The playwright with a play ready to go, wins.
2) Don't assume that because the AD or Lit. Manager of a theater is female, she will automatically be an advocate...on the other hand, no matter what this study might imply, don't assume she's out to screw you. Just know that a man is as likely to be an ally in getting your page to the stage as a woman.
3) Work harder. Get your play in front of people. Work harder. So what? Do we need higher "batting averages?" Then know that, and get moving.
http://www.nytimes.com/2009/06/24/theater/24play.html?_r=2&ref=theater
What do I take from it?
1) The playwright with a play ready to go, wins.
2) Don't assume that because the AD or Lit. Manager of a theater is female, she will automatically be an advocate...on the other hand, no matter what this study might imply, don't assume she's out to screw you. Just know that a man is as likely to be an ally in getting your page to the stage as a woman.
3) Work harder. Get your play in front of people. Work harder. So what? Do we need higher "batting averages?" Then know that, and get moving.
Saturday, June 20, 2009
Pen and Paper
Saw a new play reading this week.
I took notes. Until I saw that the playwright had neither pen nor paper in hand, or accessible, over the course of a two-and-a-half hour reading.
If she doesn't take her play seriously enough to take notes, why should I?
I took notes. Until I saw that the playwright had neither pen nor paper in hand, or accessible, over the course of a two-and-a-half hour reading.
If she doesn't take her play seriously enough to take notes, why should I?
10,000 Hours? Really?
Read "Outliers" last week, the book by Michael Gladwell. He had many things to say. The one that stuck -- that it takes 10,000 hours of practice to master your craft/reach "genius" level.
Math isn't my strong suit these days...but I believe that works out to about 20 hours a week for ten years.
Which is to say, time to get writing. That's a hell of a commitment. And yet -- that's the goal, isn't it? Mastery, commitment?
Math isn't my strong suit these days...but I believe that works out to about 20 hours a week for ten years.
Which is to say, time to get writing. That's a hell of a commitment. And yet -- that's the goal, isn't it? Mastery, commitment?
Friday, June 12, 2009
The Well-Made Play Debate
Is it really a debate? There is an argument I hear being made aloud, often, for the...not the well-made-play, exactly, but in favor of plot.
I've also heard "let theater be theater, let it be theatrical."
Are these in opposition? I don't know. I don't want to think so.
http://www.latimes.com/entertainment/la-ca-theresa-rebeck29-2009mar29,0,2065069.story
http://nycphysicaltheatre.com/definition.aspx
If anyone has other links that pertain to "what is theater supposed to be," I welcome them...
I've also heard "let theater be theater, let it be theatrical."
Are these in opposition? I don't know. I don't want to think so.
http://www.latimes.com/entertainment/la-ca-theresa-rebeck29-2009mar29,0,2065069.story
http://nycphysicaltheatre.com/definition.aspx
If anyone has other links that pertain to "what is theater supposed to be," I welcome them...
Thursday, June 11, 2009
More on Rude Mechs Workshop
Rude Mechs were interviewed Tuesday by John Aielli of KUT's Eklektikos, an Austin radio institution. The whole spot runs on his blog, Aielli Unleashed:
http://kut.org/items/show/17099
We all got to go down and sing for the interview...there's a lot of them talking about the piece, and we sing two live numbers. It's interesting to hear them talk about the piece and how it came to be.
More to note on the INBSH rehearsal process. There are two directors, a composer/lyricist, a writer/lyricist, an artistic director, and a projections designer in the room, in addition to a dramaturg and all the actors. This is a LOT of cooks. The Mechs have been working together for a long time -- they've got a lot of very smart HABITS and PRACTICES in place to keep from spoiling the soup.
1) They establish the RULES OF THE WORLD they're making, and they stick to them. There's a logic, and when there's a question about a choice, they defer to the logic, or clarify the logic. This pertains not only to story structure (we're used to that, even if we don't always accomplish that) but to everything in the aural and visual world. For example: In one scene, the projections show a side-view of everything happening in an office, and simultaneously show the things ON the table. So we had to spend time making sure that the timing of everything going on and off the table was solid.
2) They huddle to figure things out. They're good at doing it quickly, but they don't do their figuring out, too much, in front of the actors. It's "cool, go practice this one thing," then they figure something out and come back to us with "okay, this next." There are so many moving pieces and parts, too, that they do a LOT of "divide-and-conquer" -- They huddle up, split the list, take who they need and work on the pieces, then bring'em all together. Then they watch the whole thing, rinse and repeat. So they get to do some collective-brain-contribution, without stopping the process very long to do so, and they take advantage of being able to be several places at once once we're moving gain...so we get a lot done fast.
3) They do something I also saw Halena do in "101 Ways..." earlier this year, which is to give actors an assignment to problem-solve, send them off, and then have a show-and-tell. As in "we know we want a dance with rope here, but we don't know what it looks like. Take ten minutes, come back and show us five things you can do with rope." Then they used the stuff they liked to make a rope dance. In that case, they knew that the dance needed to (a) represent a boy tied to a lion in the desert and (b) be a little bit of a palate-cleanser between two songs.
4) They are 100% clear on the aesthetic they're going for. They might not always have been, but they are now (see the "rules" thing)...which means they can make definitive decisions faster and with confidence.
5) They encourage all of us to bring our "A-game" all the time, to come up with crazy and stupid ideas, and to be brave/fierce/badasses. They do this by explicitly offering the invitation to contribute like crazy, but also by modeling that at every minute. So their collaborators contribute more and sit around less.
That's all for now.
http://kut.org/items/show/17099
We all got to go down and sing for the interview...there's a lot of them talking about the piece, and we sing two live numbers. It's interesting to hear them talk about the piece and how it came to be.
More to note on the INBSH rehearsal process. There are two directors, a composer/lyricist, a writer/lyricist, an artistic director, and a projections designer in the room, in addition to a dramaturg and all the actors. This is a LOT of cooks. The Mechs have been working together for a long time -- they've got a lot of very smart HABITS and PRACTICES in place to keep from spoiling the soup.
1) They establish the RULES OF THE WORLD they're making, and they stick to them. There's a logic, and when there's a question about a choice, they defer to the logic, or clarify the logic. This pertains not only to story structure (we're used to that, even if we don't always accomplish that) but to everything in the aural and visual world. For example: In one scene, the projections show a side-view of everything happening in an office, and simultaneously show the things ON the table. So we had to spend time making sure that the timing of everything going on and off the table was solid.
2) They huddle to figure things out. They're good at doing it quickly, but they don't do their figuring out, too much, in front of the actors. It's "cool, go practice this one thing," then they figure something out and come back to us with "okay, this next." There are so many moving pieces and parts, too, that they do a LOT of "divide-and-conquer" -- They huddle up, split the list, take who they need and work on the pieces, then bring'em all together. Then they watch the whole thing, rinse and repeat. So they get to do some collective-brain-contribution, without stopping the process very long to do so, and they take advantage of being able to be several places at once once we're moving gain...so we get a lot done fast.
3) They do something I also saw Halena do in "101 Ways..." earlier this year, which is to give actors an assignment to problem-solve, send them off, and then have a show-and-tell. As in "we know we want a dance with rope here, but we don't know what it looks like. Take ten minutes, come back and show us five things you can do with rope." Then they used the stuff they liked to make a rope dance. In that case, they knew that the dance needed to (a) represent a boy tied to a lion in the desert and (b) be a little bit of a palate-cleanser between two songs.
4) They are 100% clear on the aesthetic they're going for. They might not always have been, but they are now (see the "rules" thing)...which means they can make definitive decisions faster and with confidence.
5) They encourage all of us to bring our "A-game" all the time, to come up with crazy and stupid ideas, and to be brave/fierce/badasses. They do this by explicitly offering the invitation to contribute like crazy, but also by modeling that at every minute. So their collaborators contribute more and sit around less.
That's all for now.
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Some Book Recommendations
Probably you've already read these. But a couple of students have been asking me for book recommendations -- these are things worth a look, maybe worth a permanent place on your shelf.
Poetics - Aristotle. (Extremely) Oldie-but-Goodie
Save The Cat. On screenwriting.
Screenplay - Syd Field. The quintessential screenwriting book.
Your Screenplay Sucks. On screenwriting.
Bird by Bird - Anne Lamott. On writing, by a fiction writer.
On Writing - Stephen King. On writing, by a fiction writer.
Three Uses of a Knife - David Mamet. (I'm not a big fan of the guy, but...)
The Musical Theatre Writer's Survival Guide - David Spencer. (Recommended by L. Koenning)
The Playwright's Guidebook - Stuart Spencer (I'm only partway through it, but think it's pretty good)
The Art of Dramatic Writing - Lajos Egri
The Art and Craft of Playwriting - Jeffrey Hatcher
The Dramatist's Toolkit; the Craft of the Working Playwright - Jeffrey Sweet
This is, of course, in addition to the seven-page list of plays I give my students...not to say I've read all those plays, it was compiled mostly by Sheldon Patinkin with additions and updates by me...but that list, with the above books, is a pretty good foundation.
Poetics - Aristotle. (Extremely) Oldie-but-Goodie
Save The Cat. On screenwriting.
Screenplay - Syd Field. The quintessential screenwriting book.
Your Screenplay Sucks. On screenwriting.
Bird by Bird - Anne Lamott. On writing, by a fiction writer.
On Writing - Stephen King. On writing, by a fiction writer.
Three Uses of a Knife - David Mamet. (I'm not a big fan of the guy, but...)
The Musical Theatre Writer's Survival Guide - David Spencer. (Recommended by L. Koenning)
The Playwright's Guidebook - Stuart Spencer (I'm only partway through it, but think it's pretty good)
The Art of Dramatic Writing - Lajos Egri
The Art and Craft of Playwriting - Jeffrey Hatcher
The Dramatist's Toolkit; the Craft of the Working Playwright - Jeffrey Sweet
This is, of course, in addition to the seven-page list of plays I give my students...not to say I've read all those plays, it was compiled mostly by Sheldon Patinkin with additions and updates by me...but that list, with the above books, is a pretty good foundation.
Monday, June 8, 2009
What Next? NYC...
I'm moving to NYC. In seven days. Uh, yikes.
Goals for the first year are modest. Settle in to a first year of full-time teaching. Write three new plays. Win a Tony award. Just kidding on that last one.
Last summer was, maybe, the hardest summer of my life. But it made me think hard about what matters to me, and I boiled it down to "plays, family, table" -- Plays as in writing them, making them, performing them, teaching them -- basically contributing to this craft as best I possibly can. Family as in the one I already HAVE, and the one I hope one day to MAKE. The kids, the partner. And Table as in Community. The idea of building a table and bringing people to it, and always making room for people who need a table. In a narrow and broad sense. Everything else -- lots of money/recognition/material goods/exact location/etc -- it may not be bullshit, but it's not where I want to focus my energy.
This year was incredible. Productions galore -- a short film, three plays. A first chance to direct. Three great acting opportunities. New friendships. Deepened old friendships. If most of the lessons I learned, my first two years, happened in the classroom, most of this year's lessons happened in the rehearsal hall, or on stage. That's a blessing.
This next year...I have no idea what's coming. We'll see. But if anyone has any words of wisdom for the Big Apple, I'm all ears.
Goals for the first year are modest. Settle in to a first year of full-time teaching. Write three new plays. Win a Tony award. Just kidding on that last one.
Last summer was, maybe, the hardest summer of my life. But it made me think hard about what matters to me, and I boiled it down to "plays, family, table" -- Plays as in writing them, making them, performing them, teaching them -- basically contributing to this craft as best I possibly can. Family as in the one I already HAVE, and the one I hope one day to MAKE. The kids, the partner. And Table as in Community. The idea of building a table and bringing people to it, and always making room for people who need a table. In a narrow and broad sense. Everything else -- lots of money/recognition/material goods/exact location/etc -- it may not be bullshit, but it's not where I want to focus my energy.
This year was incredible. Productions galore -- a short film, three plays. A first chance to direct. Three great acting opportunities. New friendships. Deepened old friendships. If most of the lessons I learned, my first two years, happened in the classroom, most of this year's lessons happened in the rehearsal hall, or on stage. That's a blessing.
This next year...I have no idea what's coming. We'll see. But if anyone has any words of wisdom for the Big Apple, I'm all ears.
Rude Mechs Workshop
Haven't posted much in a while. Busy writing a thesis, graduating, rewriting a couple of screenplays. BTW, Good news. "Unmoored," the screenplay Erica Saleh and I wrote last summer, that Marie Brown and Yari Wolinsky directed, and that Mark Scheibmeir and Stacey Cabaj starred in, premiered at the "Dances with Films" festival in Los Angeles this weekend. Marie spoke after the screening -- sounds like it was well-received.
I'm in week two of a two-week workshop with The Rude Mechanicals (Rude Mechs), for my money the most interesting theater company in Austin. Kirk Lynn, their resident playwright (and one of several Artistic Directors) taught at UT this year, where I got a chance to know him relatively well. He's amazing...as are the other Rude Mechs, from what I've seen.
We're workshopping four scenes from "I've Never Been So Happy," their first musical. It's a western. So far, I get to sing all the high backup notes, get dragged around in a knot of rope, and play the Sheriff. It's awesome. Christina, who is dramaturging, has been blogging about the whole process on the Rude Mech website:
http://rudemechs.blogspot.com/.
The Mechs got a grant from UT to develop the musical, hence the involvement of students, and a grant from TCG, hence the LIVE VIDEO STREAM of the entire rehearsal process, available on the tcg website. So that's cool. And it means I don't need to talk about any of the neat things Christina's discussing, because you can find that commentary on HER posts.
So. The thing about this process is that I'm mostly singing. Which means I'm banging away at harmonies while other folks are doing things that require a little more active dramaturgy. But there are still some lessons:
1) Boy, do you want everybody in the room to say "Yes, And" during a workshop. Ten actors, ten days, and a shitload to do. There isn't time for "I'm tired" or "Eh...I don't know..." Balls-to-the-walls actors who will do anything that doesn't involve serious danger -- that's the name of the game. We've been scaling walls, developing rope burns, singing for hours at a time without a break...and the bravest, craziest folks in the room are the Mechs themselves. They're acrobats, puzzle-masters, and problem-solvers.
2) Know what you're going for. The Rude Mechs might not know exactly what each moment will BE, but they know exactly what each moment needs to DO. IE "The music is really pretty here, but we're not going for pretty -- ugly up the voices, and let your bodies say 'we don't give a shit' so that we're in counterpoint to the music" or "okay, they just got something long and complicated, so this moment is the palate-cleanser" or "don't cheat. Watching you struggle is interesting. Watching you succeed by cheating is boring. And keep the struggle out of your face. Just do it." -- Yeah, there are several lessons in those statements about what's interesting onstage...but in each narrow slice of the show, the directors know what needs to be accomplished. It's up to us to figure out the specifics, but they have a deep understanding of the path they want the audience to take.
3) Let people work to their expertise. Kirk's a writer. He ain't directing us. Thomas knows physical stuff. He ain't tellin' Peter how to write his music. Erin's the queen of the visual world (talk about amazing puppetry and projections!!!!)...she ain't tellin' us how to act. Not that everybody doesn't occasionally have a quick idea that might add...but sometimes the workshop feels like when I go to the grocery store with my mother, rip the list in half, and say "meet you at checkout." We wrote the list together, we are intimately familiar with each others' tastes, and we trust each other to make the best choices on the details.
I'm in week two of a two-week workshop with The Rude Mechanicals (Rude Mechs), for my money the most interesting theater company in Austin. Kirk Lynn, their resident playwright (and one of several Artistic Directors) taught at UT this year, where I got a chance to know him relatively well. He's amazing...as are the other Rude Mechs, from what I've seen.
We're workshopping four scenes from "I've Never Been So Happy," their first musical. It's a western. So far, I get to sing all the high backup notes, get dragged around in a knot of rope, and play the Sheriff. It's awesome. Christina, who is dramaturging, has been blogging about the whole process on the Rude Mech website:
http://rudemechs.blogspot.com/.
The Mechs got a grant from UT to develop the musical, hence the involvement of students, and a grant from TCG, hence the LIVE VIDEO STREAM of the entire rehearsal process, available on the tcg website. So that's cool. And it means I don't need to talk about any of the neat things Christina's discussing, because you can find that commentary on HER posts.
So. The thing about this process is that I'm mostly singing. Which means I'm banging away at harmonies while other folks are doing things that require a little more active dramaturgy. But there are still some lessons:
1) Boy, do you want everybody in the room to say "Yes, And" during a workshop. Ten actors, ten days, and a shitload to do. There isn't time for "I'm tired" or "Eh...I don't know..." Balls-to-the-walls actors who will do anything that doesn't involve serious danger -- that's the name of the game. We've been scaling walls, developing rope burns, singing for hours at a time without a break...and the bravest, craziest folks in the room are the Mechs themselves. They're acrobats, puzzle-masters, and problem-solvers.
2) Know what you're going for. The Rude Mechs might not know exactly what each moment will BE, but they know exactly what each moment needs to DO. IE "The music is really pretty here, but we're not going for pretty -- ugly up the voices, and let your bodies say 'we don't give a shit' so that we're in counterpoint to the music" or "okay, they just got something long and complicated, so this moment is the palate-cleanser" or "don't cheat. Watching you struggle is interesting. Watching you succeed by cheating is boring. And keep the struggle out of your face. Just do it." -- Yeah, there are several lessons in those statements about what's interesting onstage...but in each narrow slice of the show, the directors know what needs to be accomplished. It's up to us to figure out the specifics, but they have a deep understanding of the path they want the audience to take.
3) Let people work to their expertise. Kirk's a writer. He ain't directing us. Thomas knows physical stuff. He ain't tellin' Peter how to write his music. Erin's the queen of the visual world (talk about amazing puppetry and projections!!!!)...she ain't tellin' us how to act. Not that everybody doesn't occasionally have a quick idea that might add...but sometimes the workshop feels like when I go to the grocery store with my mother, rip the list in half, and say "meet you at checkout." We wrote the list together, we are intimately familiar with each others' tastes, and we trust each other to make the best choices on the details.
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