Thoughts On Theatre

History

2010-03-12T22:21:00.007-06:00

History is important. Without a sense of it, we take too much for granted.

I had the privilege of listening in when the upstairs studio theatre at Victory Gardens was renamed after Richard Christiansen. The guests were a pretty impressive whos who of respected artists: Harold Ramis, John Mahoney, Deanna Dunagan, Jeffrey Sweet, Rick Cleveland, Frank Galati, and William Petersen, to name a few.

Oh, and Chris Jones was there too.

The night was charged beyond belief. The simple but overpowering respect that this theatrical community holds for Richard is nothing short of inspiring. Mr. Cleveland brought tear to many an eye with his attribution of his current success, his wife and kids and home included, to Richard believing in him.

But believe it or not, the speech that really got me thinking belonged to none other than Mr. Jones. (And after typing that, I think I will from this point forth refer to him as "Mr. Jones.")

Chicago theatre is a special entity in itself. One can go on for hours about what sets this artistic community apart from all others in moving and inspiring ways (and god knows, I have spent hours doing just that). That being said, one point has always struck me more than most others about this city and its theatre scene: the fact that damn near every show in this town (and in the surrounding areas too) gets reviewed. Not only that, these shows are reviewed with the same sensibility and consideration given to Steppenwolf, Goodman, and other "big-player" productions. There is a simple understanding that bigger is not necessarily better, and that a small show in a small venue can make waves just as large and affecting as any Steppenwolf production. This is appreciated by our critics, and thus allows for small companies to make the necessary strides to grow, develop, and attract. The beauty of press is outreach, publicity - look, more people can know that we exist now! We're here, we're a theatre, get used to it! (or something like that). And nothing helps growth like people noticing existence. And hey, if the press is good? Well, now we're cooking!

And this is where history comes in. As Mr. Jones spoke that evening, it became clear that in talking about Chicago's remarkable critical sense of storefront theatre and recognition of what that realm is capable of, one man could be identified as the point of origin: Richard Christiansen. Mr. Jones could look back, as could everyone, and see that it was Richard who started making the same effort to see the shows in the backs of bars as he did to see the big players. It was Richard who recognized the potential of a storefront scene. It was Richard who realized that size didn't matter, and that incredibly powerful theatre could happen anywhere. Most importantly, it was Richard who took all this and wrote it down in the Chicago Tribune so that everyone else could know it too.

Mr. Jones eloquently and warmly pointed out to everyone in the room the roots of this special relationship between critic and theatre in Chicago. After all, you do see Mr. Jones spending a lot of his precious time in storefronts, and suburban theatres, and writing scathing reviews of some shows while bearing his soul for productions like "Harper Regan" over at Steep. And to be fair, you so rarely see anything like this is the primary New York City publications. Why is that? Where did Mr. Jones get this idea that it is important to get out there and see the back room experiments, the mid-size productions, AND the large-scale extravaganzas? Who taught him that all of it is equally important to an artistic community.

Oh yeah. Richard did.

Richard has no idea who I am. And yet, if I could, I would tell him that I cannot express the level of gratitude that I have, the level of appreciation I feel as a direct result of these choices he made. His impact on Chicago theatre is immeasurable. Because he believed in Chicago and embraced the true variety of artistic exploits this community has to offer, we - the young and naive and overeager artists who have not yet been jaded by harsh reality - can feel like we can actually achieve our dreams.

Because of Richard, we CAN achieve our dreams.

Thank you, Richard Christiansen.

Willkommen - Oberlin Live Cast Recording

2010-02-09T09:17:00.002-06:00

I've decided to post a song each week from the Oberlin production of Cabaret that I directed back in '08.

Listening to these, all I can think is... GOD I miss everyone from that show!

From Youtube:

The opening number from the Oberlin production of "Cabaret" (directed by Josh Sobel, music direction by Ian Axness, choreographed by Micheline Heal)

"Willkommen"
Emcee: Raphael Sacks
Sally Bowles: Samantha Boyd
Rosie: Holly Heidt
Fritzie: Caitlin Brown-Romtvedt
Lulu: Alia Syed
Helga: Rachel Saudek
Bobby: Sean Lucius
Victor: Aaron Kokotek

On Your Own Terms.

2009-12-05T21:33:00.003-06:00

NOTE: I want to thank Joe Mazza for the inspiration for this post.

------------------------

This has been one hell of a week. Lots of ups, a bunch of downs - exhausting, to say the least.

It has also given me a lot to think about in terms of how I go about making the art I want to make.

Everyone has their strengths, and everyone has their weaknesses. We all have ways that work best for us in terms of doing what we love to do. And yes, we should all work and strive to able to do it all, attack work in any circumstances and deliver the best possible results, but the truth of the matter is, some artists will do better in one set of production circumstances than others, and those artists who do not do as well should not be dismissed as lesser artists simply because their strengths lie elsewhere, and have proven those strengths.

I have been learning a lot about myself as an artist over the last few years. I have been fortunate enough to have opportunities to both succeed and fail, and from each take away useful lessons about the work and about my own limitations and abilities.

In a conversation I recently had, I was able to step back and look at my own body of work. And something has become abundantly clear. The work I feel best about, the work that was most artistically fulfilling and that the audience was most enthralled by (Cabaret and Glengarry Glen Ross, for example) has been work that I have been able to give a good amount of time and personal attention to, even well before rehearsals began. They were works that I have allowed to grow inside of me, evolve and breath and take real shape that could then be brought into an organic rehearsal room and be given life. On the opposite side, the work I have been most frustrated and dissatisfied with has been work where I have felt rushed, or been in a position where I have not felt ready to give the work its due, whether because of prep time, rehearsal time, or any number of other factors.

Let me say right here, at this point, that this is not a post of me making excuses, and this is not me complaining about "not having enough [whatever]". I don't believe in that. Any difficulties I may have are mine, whereas others may shine under the same circumstances, and I will not work any less or any less passionately to deliver the best that I can. And, especially after being at the O'Neill, I have enormous respect and admiration for being able to put up work quickly and effectively. I recognize the necessity for that, and I do welcome the opportunity to continue challenging myself in those areas so that I can grow and develop skills in an arena where I currently feel less than my best (I may not feel good about the products that might result from me being in a Theatermakers-style directing setting, but damn I would savor each chance to strengthen myself and be a better artist under those conditions). All I am doing is examining my own strengths and weaknesses, and what I seem to need - at this stage of my development - to really do work that I am proud of.

What came out of this conversation, however, was an important realization. Even though I plan on involving myself in the future in "quick-fire" theatre opportunities and welcome the development and exercise opportunities afforded by them, at a certain point, I need to take a break from beating my head against the wall and wishing that I was like someone else who might excel at doing work this quickly. Instead, perhaps I should simply recognize where my strengths lie, and make an opportunity for myself to do work on those terms. My terms.

After my last two big productions, I know I have a place in this business, and I know that I am able to direct well. I don't believe that there is anything wrong with taking a step back and saying "this is how I work best. So, this is how I am going to work, at the very least, on my next show." I have a right to do that, to make work that I feel good about in a way that I feel good about. Just because I struggle with making my art in one set of circumstances, doesn't mean that I am not a good artist. Artists are known to have their specific ways and styles of working and "sets of demands", often to a comedic fault. These often arise through trial and error, discovering what elements provide for the best artistic result, and attempting to stay close to those elements. When you get right down to it, one is allowed to have strengths and weaknesses, and one is allowed to make opportunities to display their strengths.

So I may not be the best at short-rehearsal readings. No one can take Cabaret and Glengarry away from me. And I will work my ass off to get better at the short-rehearsal fare. But for now, its time for me to show this community what I can do. On my terms.

Ultimately, the result is (hopefully) great art that everyone on every side can feel good about, moved by, changed by, provoked by. What's wrong with setting oneself up to deliver that in the best way they can?

Walking The Line...

2009-11-18T21:46:00.009-06:00

As a lover of text and language, one of the biggest challenges I face is finding the physical, visual, symbolic and metaphorical elements that provide the audience with that much needed "WOW factor" on stage. The words alone given truthful life spoken crisply and with exquisite and focused intention and timing may be wonderful as is. But audiences tend to want more. Which is fair. It's about using all of the theatrical elements available to tell the story in a unified way. It's about staging the action, not just the words; if it were the latter, having actors sit across from each other and speak might actually be enough. And, as we all can recognize, it is not.

On the flip side, it is just as easy to spot those directors who, for whatever reason, do not really trust the language of the play (and I would bet that they are not even really aware of it, at least not in those terms). They tend to make choices with regard to lights, sound, movement, and so on that, instead of providing a deeper understanding of the play, they rather act as a distraction from the text and the play as a whole, and provide the audience with a choice: either listen to the words cluttered by the "noise" and try to decipher the actor's intent, or pay attention to the "noise" and risk missing the truth and flair of the word itself, which is really carrying the message of the play.

The ideal, of course, is to find the stunning, inventive, and unique effect, appropriate to the style of the play, that blends together with the words themselves to create a singular entity: that of THE PLAY. This is in some ways a strong litmus test for a production - do you separate the words from what you see and hear around them, are do they strike you as one singular event that is being experienced in real time?

One must take great care to treat the text with respect and careful craftsmanship when giving them life on stage - after all, one must consider the craftsmanship that it took to put them on the page in the first place. So, when one lays a lengthy sound cue over a monologue, in an attempt to "illuminate" the monologue but in reality effectively drawing attention away from a beautifully written passage, such a director is doing a disservice to the play, the playwright, the production, and to his or herself.

An example of it done right is the use of trapeze work in the RSC's Henry V a few years back. The French were in long flowing garments and suspended in air, doing acrobatic work, flips and twists, while the English, covered in dirt and dressed in muted colors, popped in and out of trap doors in the stage below.

It was breathtaking. Why? Because its a war, with a dichotomy to be drawn between the two nations at war. The text reveals this dichotomy, but it must then be given physical reality. The use of trapeze and differing clothing styles truly illuminated a key feature of the story itself - the DICHOTOMY, the two different sides at war. And thus, a stunning visual and physical choice was made that stayed true to the story and the text.

Paul Moser, former chair of theatre at Oberlin College and my adviser at school, spoke often about a director needing a finely tuned "bullshit-meter." That is to say, the director may really like an idea, but if it is not working on stage, they must be honest with themselves and adjust, rather than sacrifice the whole play on an idea that didn't pan out. The idea may make sense on paper - it does not mean it will work.

I have no problem with using trapeze, live music, puppetry, shadow-work, modern dance as a device within a straight play in order to provide insight into the text being spoken simultaneously. Just make sure that the two elements actually work together, rather than detract from each other. And as a director, it is OUR responsibility to make sure that they are working together instead of independently - a united artistic expression for the audience to see, hear, and experience. If the sound makes us miss the story being told, take the sound out and craft the storytelling itself. If the audience is watching the dance and not listening to the actor speaking directly to them, something may need some tweaking.

Don't cover the words up. Activate them. The writer wrote them so that they could be brought to life and have effect. Don't rob them of that capability.

"Suit the action to the word, the word to the action" - They exist to support each other; otherwise, the whole play loses its balance.

Star Wars According to a 3 Year Old...

2009-11-05T19:44:00.000-06:00

This is brilliant.

Star Wars Episode IV According to a 3-Year-Old:

Thoughts on Originality

2009-10-24T23:12:00.003-05:00

So it occurred to me tonight that something that I thought was pretty well understood might in fact not be, and this seemed to need some addressing.

Artists have styles. They have things they like to go back to, elements that repeat themselves, themes that recur within their breadth of work, and so on. And that is fine.

However, at the same time, one can usually find variations on the theme from work to work. If the style is the same, perhaps the subject is different. If the subject is similar, maybe its presented in a different way. This is what keeps the work, even if it contains repetition, fresh and engaging, especially to an audience that becomes familiar with their work.

It may be said that it is disappointing and somewhat painful when one finds an artist not only telling the same essential story that they previously told, but in the same way, minus a different world setting. Changing the world of a piece is set in does not do enough to create variation so that the product feels new. It will still feel recycled as long as the message, structure, relationships, and shtick are exactly the same. And, to address the familiar audience issue, an audience that sees a new work years after the first work, and is met with a duller near-copy of the original that is passed off for new, is destined to be alienated. Change the subject, change the story-telling elements, even just change the shtick - CHANGE SOMETHING!

People can tell a Mamet play from a mile away. People can spot Pinter, Stoppard, Churchill, McDonagh, Beckett in a moment. These writers are recognizable because of elements that reappear, but are reinvented significantly enough or used in a new enough context as to make them feel like an anchor, a point of familiarity from which one can more comfortably explore the truly new parts of a work. This is the real skill - to make that which is in fact recycled feel good, feel fresh, feel engaging. As soon as the recycled feels recycled, you are most likely in trouble, and should probably take a closer and more critical look at all of your work, so you can see what keeps popping up again and again.

If you create a new show that is essentially exactly the same as an earlier show, but in a different setting, you are robbing yourself of the opportunity to really and truly create, and you make yourself into a one-trick pony. At that point, an audience can just see the first one, the original, the one that started it all, and then has absolutely no reason to see what comes after - THEY HAVE ALREADY SEEN IT!

Please don't do this. It just makes people sad.

I Agree With Most of This

2009-10-19T19:52:00.002-05:00

Especially a lot of the ideas about how companies can operate as a business in the future - tools and programs that can make them financially sustainable without sacrificing mission, content or quality. There may be a lot of answers here as to how new companies can grow effectively and possibly even more quickly than usual...

READ

It's Official

2009-10-14T21:47:00.004-05:00

I really want to start a theatre company here. Definitely not this year. Maybe not even next. But as much as I love Red Orchid (AND I REALLY DO!), working there has really served to put me in a state where I just want to do it myself. I want to get that core of people together to share a vision, and work together in innovative, passionate, enjoyable, and intelligent ways to make something special and nurture it to growth.

Working on refining old mission statements and titles. That's the hardest part: putting words and an image to the beautiful swirling crap in my head.

Let's see what happens.

Sand Art

2009-10-13T22:25:00.001-05:00

The performative quality and exquisite flowing detail and beauty of this blow my mind.

This Is What Happens When Great Actors Are On Sci-Fi TV

2009-10-10T22:36:00.005-05:00

I have been, over the past year or so, been slowly but surely drawn in to the wonderful world of sci-fi TV. It kind of started before that with SUPERNATURAL (although Season 5 is off to a rough start, if you ask me), but all of a sudden I was flooded with DR. WHO, FRINGE, FLASHFORWARD, and other such reality-bending programming.

Today, I watched the latest episode of FLASHFORWARD. Okay, I will admit, it is quite cheesy at time. I mean, one of the primary creative forces is David S. Goyer (the BATMAN franchise), so things like a slow-motion run by the hero to the tunes of uber-dramatic non-diegetic musical accompaniment should be somewhat of a given expectation. The story, however, is quite interesting, they've timed it right so that the "big day" that the series revolves around will land on the correct day of the week for the episode in 2010, and the puzzle is incredibly engaging.

The strongest point, though? The cast. This cast contains some of the great theatre artists from the U.S. and beyond, including Joseph Fiennes, Courtney B. Vance, Sonya Walger, Brian F. O'Byrne, Alan Ruck, and Jack Davenport, as well as such names and talents as John Cho, Gabrielle Union, Genevieve Cortese, Christine Woods and even Seth McFarlane!

The British have probably been the most successful in utilizing theatre talent for campy TV, especially in terms of DR. WHO (referencing the latest Doctor to leave the show, RSC member David Tennant). But the U.S. is catching on. Two of the strongest acting forces on this show, Vance and O'Byrne (both noted successes in the stage world), are wonderfully connected and at times incredibly moving (particularly in this latest episode). Vance's eulogy is a perfect moment at that point in the show, and O'Byrne's scene with his ex-wife as he tries to get her to sign an affadavit to exhume their apparently dead daughter's body is subtly sharp and painful in the best way.

Maybe this is just me, being the dork that I am, but having that level of acting in a show that, to be fair, caters to a demographic that does not necessarily pay as much attention to such things, is an asset to the show's accessibility, longevity, and quality. They also give the sci-fi fare a ton of credibility, as these actors know how to truly commit to the rules of the world they are placed in. This is the way to really make this genre reach new groups of TV watchers, especially those who are so quick to pass judgment on the quality of programming.

This is what happens when truly great actors enter the world of primetime sci-fi TV. Can't wait for more.

Theatre & Rock Show: Breaking Down (4th) Walls

2009-10-08T23:28:00.009-05:00

I was rewatching a stream I found of the Passing Strange movie directed by Spike Lee.

Anyone reading this who knows me well knows that this show has a very special place in my heart, and has spurred many thoughts, considerations, possibilities, and theories in my head about the nature and potential of the art I aim to be a part of in this world.

Spike Lee placed a camera within the back wall of the set, so that one is looking at the action from behind, and can see the audience beyond the cast and musicians.

In one particularly shattering scene (shattering at least to me), Stew leads a song called "Keys (It's Alright)". This song slowly evolves beyond the stage, becoming a repetitiously infectious anthem that resonates within every inch of the theatre and begins to catch the audience in its spell.

When I saw the show live, the first five or so rows were on their feet for this song. Stew went down off the edge of the stage and had the first couple rows sing back his two-word refrain into the mic. People were standing up, singing, clapping, cheering; they were a part of the show. The energy, reached me in the 12th or 13th row, and even those sitting around me were moving and clapping, feeding into the wonderful energy of expression. We were all swimming in it.

Perhaps because of the film, perhaps because it was the last performance, and perhaps because of the quality of the performance that night (or any combination of the above), when this song happens in the film and the wall begins to break down between stage and audience, the entire theatre gets on their feet. Every single person is standing, waving their arms way up in the air, clapping their hands, and singing along with Stew and the cast and band. Every single person is joining in on the show.

I openly cried at this point. I suddenly knew that this sort of emotion, expression, and unification, even for just a moment, was what I wanted to devote my life to attempting to create.

Now, there is something worth analyzing in this specific instance: the nature of the show itself, which is a healthy and mutually supportive blending of narrative theatre and rock concert. It is the latter of these two forms that plays a huge role in accomplishing the very thing that I have identified as my artistic goal (though I am still having trouble articulating it any better than to point at that scene in the movie and say 'That. I want to do that.'). Any really spectacular rock show has this effect of reaching out and grabbing the audience, making them an active participant in the show. People get swept up by the pure, cathartic outpouring of electronically magnified sound, as well as the (hopefully) magical lighting effects and (even more hopefully) energized and gripping showmanship of the performers. This is Dionysian release at its best, in that even within a performance dichotomy between performer and observer, the observer feels like they are a part of the performance by actively feeding into the atmosphere and power of the performance. A community is created that ignores, even for a fleeting moment, the petty differences our society harps on each and every day, and we are united in the communal experience of "making a show" as an audience.

There are a lot of problems that come with considering theatre in relation to a rock show. Most apparently, it might be a little awkward for an audience member to get up and start cheering in the middle of a production of Pinter's "The Homecoming." Somehow, I feel that the pauses may lose something in such a circumstance. Additionally, I think crazy flying gobos jetting across the stage in rhythmic synchronization may be a little difficult to accept in "The Cherry Orchard."

I suggest that what can be learned from the example of the rock show, and the successful theatrical application in Passing Strange, is that one can see in both of these cases their respective audiences responding in a way that is appropriate and natural to the nature of the performance, and are the expression of an audience being truly engaged in a performance so that they essentially forget that there is a division between the performer and themselves. Rock shows, at least successful ones, do this on a regular basis, and have an easier time for reasons explored above. But the point I am here to make is that these rock shows, and their inherent effect with an audience, can inspire and propel us in our own arena of artistic discovery. Theatre has this same power, if we work at unlocking it. Jumping, shouting, singing are not requisite for this power. Immersion, complete engagement are.

A whole other essay could be written on what "complete engagement" really means, and if by saying this I am denying the credibility of the Brechtian approach to theatrical writing and performance. What I can say is that this is in no way the case. As suggested above, immersion means different things depending on the nature and purpose of the show, as well as what kind of impact the shapers of the production wish to have on their respective audiences. In a Brechtian production, complete immersion may in fact be complete awareness of "watching a play", yet at the same time complete engagement in the commentary and socio-political conversation that the play is working to provoke, as so much of Brecht's work aimed to do.

I want to strive for this shifting element of "complete engagement", whether Artaudian, Brechtian, or anywhere in between. I want to make the choice about what I am looking to reach for in my audience, and work toward actually reaching it, grabbing hold of it, and wringing every ounce of connection from it that I can. I want to, either figuratively or literally, bring my audience into the show; perhaps mentally, perhaps physically, perhaps both at the same time, depending. I want to create community the same way Passing Strange created community - by providing an audience with a shared moment or experience of unity and connection with each other and with what is being presented, so that differences are forgotten and all that remains in the moment is the moment itself, a moment of joint expression and engagement. If we can tap into these moments of unity, of community, and of connection and sameness amongst ourselves on a more regular basis, I truly believe this world would be and can be a better place. I believe theatre has the power to do it.

Will it? Who knows. Maybe not. But to me, its worth the effort.

The Best Acting Class in the World.

2009-10-02T00:08:00.001-05:00

You want to learn a ton about acting and bring a load of tools into your next scene study? Watch Spencer Tracy and Frederic March go at it in the original INHERIT THE WIND.

The Cat Empire

2009-09-30T22:07:00.001-05:00

Got a crazy idea today. Don't want to say too much, but it could be pretty interesting, a long term project is a project at all... but who knows...

What I will say is this: I really love The Cat Empire. Crazy Aussies.

Gotta Love Reviews.

2009-09-29T23:53:00.000-05:00

So... two shows I was really anticipating each got SLAMMED this week by the critics. Check out the reviews -

Chicago's own "A Steady Rain" by Keith Huff

And Philip Seymour Hoffman in "Othello"

A Non-Theatre Post

2009-09-27T22:57:00.000-05:00

I’m working to spread the word about this disaster currently raging in the Philippines. THEY NEED YOUR SUPPORT! Here’s a NY Times article about the disaster, although the media coverage and awareness of this event is ABYSMAL. SPREAD THE WORD! http://bit.ly/fpRDR

You can check out my Facebook for a somewhat disturbing video of what has been going on, and you can also donate money to help those affected and suffering from this tragedy by going to http://af-usa.org/donate_now_form.asp and selecting either: 1) "AF-USA Typhoon Relief Fund" or 2) "Philippine National Red Cross".

Please. Help those in need.

Another Mike Daisey Thing

2009-09-26T16:37:00.000-05:00

This man is inspiring beyond belief. Here is an excerpt from his show "Why Theatre Failed America" that I am completely blown away by:

“And this is a cultural problem. Not an economic one. ‘Cause I talk to people, you know, they always love to say, ‘Mike… Mike. I feel you man, I feel you, but you have to understand that if we had more money, if we had more money everything would be different. If we had more money, uh uh uh uh, if this were Sweden, if this were Sweden and the government’s just shitting money into our mouths, we would do everything completely differently.’ But that’s not true. That’s not true, because the culture of a place is that culture because the people in power make it that culture, and the people who go to it and believe in it and subscribe to it approve of that culture. That’s why that culture exists. And if you could change the culture of a place by pouring money all over it… well, Iraq would be turning out very differently right now. It doesn’t work that way. If you want to change the culture of a place, you need to inculcate those values from within. You need to change hearts and minds of the people inside the buildings to believe that theatres are not buildings. Theatres are the people – they are the artists, and the technicians, the support, the staff, these, this web, that is the theatre. And the building is just a place. An important place, a vital place, but just a place, where the art is happening. And if we value that place over the art, then we value real estate over theatre. And if we make that mistake, if we make that mistake we lose ourselves. We lose ourselves entirely.”

~Mike Daisey

The Mike Daisey Incident

2009-09-25T22:16:00.000-05:00

Okay. First off, if you have not seen the video of the Mike Daisey protest incident during his one-man show at American Repertory Theater, click the link below RIGHT NOW and watch it. It's from about two years ago, but I just discovered it myself:

Mike Daisey Protest Incident Video

Many people I have talked to in the last 24 hours knew about this incident when it actually happened. Until I discovered this video last night, however, I was completely unaware of it.

The first reaction anyone would have to this is obvious: rage at the utter gall of a person to destroy another being's work, in this case Daisey's art in the form of his irreparable notes (though it really doesn't make a difference what kind of work it is - destruction is destruction, whether it is destroying the documents on a professor's desk, or destroying a person's piece of original art - they are equally malicious acts).

The protest itself is one thing. Daisey is clearly shocked, as anyone would most likely be, to see 87 people stand up and walk out of his show. This, however, is certainly not the first time, nor will it be the last time, that have walked out of a show. If you are truly offended by the material for whatever reason, I say by all means leave. Try to leave quietly, out of respect, but no one can really fault you for simply walking out.

Now the next step up is to walk out disruptively, which this group does indeed do. They stand up and walk out en masse, in front of the stage, interrupting the show in progress. This shows a clear lack of respect for the human being in front of them; this is not the movies, folks. That guy in the chair behind the table is really there, flesh and blood, and believe it or not, he can see and hear you leaving. But again, walking out is, in its nature, a rational response to being offended, and one that can be understood and acknowledged before moving on and continuing on course.

The line gets crossed here. Not only does this group walk out, and walk out disruptively at that, but one person (clearly not a high school student, by the way), has the nerve, the utter disregard for personal property and for a man's art and career, to pour a bottle of water out on the table in front of Daisey, dousing the papers set in front of him (which were not a script, as Daisey explains, but rather his original notes on the show).

Now, there are so many diatribes that one could get into about this incident. One could rant about how this event points to how the current generation of theater-goers have lost the respect and reverence that was once bestowed upon the artist as a significant part of our cultural identity. One could rave about the cowardice of committing an act of destruction and then simply walking away, failing to create any sort of productive dialogue with the artist and not even having the guts to look him in the eye. One could spew about how this is a sign that things need to change, that we are in need of a Renaissance of the human spirit, that we as a people have lost respect for each other in a more general sense of human empathy, how the language is tame compared to some plays and probably compared to other themes explore by Diasey (thus making this whole event all the more infuriating), and that what he did was outright criminal.

I would like to propose a different take.

Strange as it may seem, this video only serves to reinforce my love of and fascination with live theatre.

One can vandalize a sculpture or painting, can talk or shout during a classical music concert of some sort, can run across the stage during a piece of dance. But where else than in the theatre can something like this Daisey incident really take place?

One of the most beautiful elements of theatre is the exchange between artist and audience. It is a communicative and collaborative art form, and Daisey's piece specifically plays into this facet of the craft, as a one-man monologue delivered directly to the audience. Thus, when the incident takes place, although it absolutely disrupts the actual show as written, it at the same time creates (as we can see in the video) a new forum for discussion, a new set of facts and circumstances to be adapted to and incorporated into the truth of the piece, and a kind of communal experience between the remaining audience members and Daisey himself that can never again be truly and honestly repeated. Sure, similar incidents may happen elsewhere, but they will never be the same as this individual incident. This particular event was a one-of-a-kind occurrence that existed in the moment. And Daisey, like the professional that he is, deals with what just happened to him with firmness and grace, determination and class, and takes the opportunity not to let the show be ruined, but rather let it be changed, let it be alive (as all theatre is and should be).

This event, and how Daisey subsequently handles it, shows theatre as just that: a living organism that evolves and adapts and has the capability to take the worst possible scenarios and incorporate that into its being, coming out all the stronger as a result. Theatre absorbs rather than rejects - its about the "Yes, And" that sets us free by simply accepting the world and circumstances we are presented with instead of resisting and denying them. There is no truth in this denial. And theatre must always have truth.

So, overall, I choose to let this event inspire me rather than anger me. Theatre is a powerful enough force to absorb outright destruction, evolve, and come back for seconds. Again, where else can something like this happen?

Thank you Mike Daisey.

Another Great Quote

2009-09-24T15:33:00.000-05:00

I saw the Passing Strange movie today. I have to say, the memories came rushing back like a tidal wave of pure energy and emotion. There is something so special at the core of this show, something that I don't think everyone can comprehend or appreciate, but that is undeniably there for those who can open up to it. I do think there is something missing compared to seeing it on stage, but the heart is still absolutely there. And it also presented me with a wonderful quote that I had forgotten. It comes toward the end of the show, in the breathtaking stare-down scene between Stew and Daniel Breaker.

"Life is a mistake that only art can correct."

I'll leave it at that for now.

Brian Dennehy

2009-09-23T22:18:00.001-05:00

"Acting is emotion on cue."
~Brian Dennehy to the Theatermakers 2009 Class at the O'Neill Center this summer.

Not sure I completely agree with this, but there is such clear wisdom in it.

The Value of Cheap Comedy

2009-09-22T21:41:00.000-05:00

Since I didn't post one yesterday, I thought I would double up today. And as it turns out, a discussion took place today between me and my housemates that got me thinking.

I watched a recent sketch from Saturday Night Live. Let it be known, I do not particularly care for the current generation of Saturday Night Live. Now, SNL has not always been known as the most intelligent of comic styles (the exceptions tend to be George Bush, Sarah Palin, Celebrity Jeopardy, Wild and Crazy Guys, and the occasional Weekend Update), but one thing was for certain in those cases, as well as overall in the early years of the show up to the early to mid-90's: THEY WERE CONSISTENTLY FUNNY. They made people laugh. Sure, the Chippendale's sketch with the late great duo of Chris Farley and Patrick Swayze was a pretty cheap sketch based on sheer bodily contrast... but it was HILARIOUS!

By contrast, SNL today, overall, is simply not funny. Their characters are weakly drawn and written even worse... even the memorable ones that keep recurring rely on the actors being funnier than the material they are given (Penelope comes to mind). Barring some pretty excellent Digital Shorts, SNL has fallen quite far from grace, failing to do the one thing that they could be counted on to do: make people laugh.

Well, this sketch was about a group of Irish immigrants on a boat arriving in America. One of these immigrants was played by Justin Timberlake, and the character was his great-grandfather. The whole sketch from that point forward was a very self-aware "analysis" and parody of Justin Timberlake's own career, including a pretty edgy Britney Spears reference (!!!!!!) and a great walk on from Andy Samberg (and with it a Jew joke that gets at the heart of my relationship with Alex Huntsberger).

This was in many ways a typical, simple, and straightforward sketch. No real frills, nothing particularly intellectual (outside the realm of pop-culture references). But I laughed. We all just laughed. It was FUNNY. This felt so refreshing given the fact that the same day, I watched several other sketched from the past two or three episodes that I just could not laugh at. And here was one that fulfilled the basic human need for laughter. It didn't try to do anything more than accomplish that, and there is a certain nobility in that. And it succeeded.

Here was where the discussion that took place tonight got interesting. What makes comedy "good"? One can value comedy that is smart, has something satirical to say, maintains an intellectualism amid the silliness (most notably, Monty Python comes to mind). But at the same time, I would make the argument that there is real value in comedy that does not purport to do anything but make us laugh. It can be simple, complex, cheap, smart, it doesn't really matter. Comedy's most basic function is to elicit laughter from an audience. Certain comedians or shows can attempt to do more than just that, and that can lead to GREAT comedy - comedy that both makes us laugh and makes us think. However, this is not necessarily an essential feature of "good" comedy. Personally, the Immigrant sketch made me laugh out loud. I believe that qualifies it as "good comedy". Maybe not great, influential, and lasting comedy. But GOOD, nonetheless.

As we, artists in the realm of entertainment, get bogged down by the nature and purposes and meaning of our art, one must be able to take a step back, let go of the need for "intelligence" and relish the power we have to simply make an audience laugh. There is incredible restorative power in this action, for both sides. This sort of comedy being "cheap", then, doesn't really matter. The laughs do.

Incredible Peter Brook Quote:

2009-09-22T16:08:00.000-05:00

"We can talk about housing on TV. We can talk about heaven in the empty churches. In the theatre, we ask why it's worth living in the house and if we want to go to heaven. Where else can we do this? We can talk about shorter hours of work in the weeklies and about leisure. If we don't examine the living of our leisure in the theatre, where else will we do so? In the loony bin?"

~Peter Brook

MISTAKES WERE MADE

2009-09-20T14:12:00.000-05:00

Saw "Mistakes Were Made" again, written by Craig Wright (Six Feet Under, Dirty Sexy Money, Lost), featuring Red Orchid founding ensemble member and Academy-Award nominee Michael Shannon (Revolutionary Road, World Trade Center, Bug, Bad Boys II) and ensemble member Mierka Girten, and directed by Dexter Bullard (Bug on stage, Chair of MFA Acting at DePaul).

FUCK that's good theatre. Engaged, compelling, and most of all, incredibly entertaining.

There's something about Chicago theatre... being able to see an Oscar nominee come back to his home, the company he started, a theatre with a total of 75 seats, and act his heart out to a packed house - doing what he loves and making great art for the people and company he loves.

Just ask him. I did.

Chicago Dramatists

2009-09-19T23:06:00.000-05:00

So I went to my first Saturday reading series today, visiting my fellow Obies Andrew Mooney and Alex Huntsberger (currently interns over there). I won't talk about the play here, but what I will say is this: I found yet another reason why I love this place called Chicago.

Now, to be fair, I cannot say whether or not I could find something like this in NYC. I just don't know. BUT, at Dramatists, I paid $5, got to see a staged reading of a brand new play by a Chicago playwright, produced by a pretty well-renowned Chicago company, got to fill out a response form afterward, and was then able to take part in a talk-back with the playwright after the show, giving feedback and being part of an immediate theatrical dialogue. I felt so comfortable just raising my hand, commenting on a play by a writer I do not know, at a company I have never been to before, in a city I still only recently arrived in.

This is Chicago theatre. Heaven.

First Blog Post - A Bar Mitzvah in Hyperspace, to quote Lewis Black

2009-09-18T23:53:00.000-05:00

So this is my first blog post. I figured I would start out with a sort of personal mission statement about theatre, and what it is that I want to do within the art form.

I've been thinking about this a lot lately, probably because I just graduated from college (WOO OBERLIN!) and have now entered the "real world" and have to figure out what it is that I as an artist bring to the table. And the more I thought about it, the more I realized that the mission statement I posted on my Weebly (jsobel.weebly.com) is still very much the most accurate description of what it is that I look to create and accomplish, and what theatre is about for me/why I have devoted myself to it (DISCLAIMER: Yes, the description on my Weebly, especially the end, is cheesy and cliché. Acknowledged. Moving on.)

So my first post is simply a copy-and-paste of my Weebly page on Theatre. For your viewing pleasure:

"I am a firm believer that great theatre is created through great collaboration. Only when all minds and hearts involved are working together positively toward a shared creation can theatre tap into the power it has to move people, and in so doing change the world. Theatre is a force that brings people together, and when that chord of mutual harmony, hard work, and inspiration is struck, there are no limits to the power that can result. This is theatre I believe in: a theatre where all of its creators can make art that they feel good about, from the first day all the way to closing.

For me, theatre is about people, both the people involved and the people portrayed. It is about the things we do to each other. Things large and things small, things wonderful and things horrific, things beautiful and things disgusting and vile. It is about the things we do, the things we have done, and the things we can and will do to each other, and to the world, well into the future.

Theatre forces us to look at ourselves and what we are capable of even when we are afraid to look, even if what we see is not what we care to admit. And it is through brutal honesty and incisive, imaginative artistry that truths about ourselves, exciting, grand, and repulsive truths, are revealed and explored. And it is through this theatre, through a theatre that grabs its audience and says 'look what we can do', a theatre that emotionally affects, infects, and involves its audience, that the world can be changed. Because if this theatre can affect one person's being, then that one world has been changed. And if it can affect a hundred people's beings... well you get the idea.

This is my goal. A theatre by people, a theatre for people, a theatre about people.

A Theatre Of People."