Nat Cassidy as Christopher Marlowe in THE RECKONING OF KIT AND LITTLE BOOTS
Nat Cassidy has three full-length plays on Indie Theater Now, and has two more coming online soon. But Nat is also a fine actor, and in fact I first met him in that capacity, when he was appearing in a FringeNYC production of a play by Sara Farrington, The Rise and Fall of Miles and Milo. Currently, Nat is appearing off-Broadway in Retro Productions’ revival of Milan Stitt’s The Runner Stumbles. He took some time off from his busy schedule to chat with me about that show, and about the challenges and opportunities afforded by being an actor-playwright.
Here’s our cyber-conversation:
ME: Tell us a little about The Runner Stumbles. How does your character figure in the story? What made you want to play this character/do this play in the first place?
NAT: The Runner Stumbles is a two-act drama by Milan Stitt, which ran on Broadway in 1976 and was made into a film starring Dick Van Dyke in 1979 (it was, I believe, director Stanley Kramer’s last picture). It concerns the murder of a nun in a tiny Midwestern town in 1911, but want to see how I turn myself into the central role? Sure, you do.
The Runner Stumbles is part mystery and part memory play, set during a murder trial lead by a handsome young prosecuting attorney (Nat Cassidy). Through probing interrogations and brilliant cross-examinations, Cassidy handsomely delves into the matter until he handsomely exposes the not-at-all handsome truth and teaches the townsfolk an important lesson on the handsomeness of being handsome. Also, a priest wrestles with forbidden desire.
No, but really, it’s an achingly rendered story about the doomed love between a parish priest and a young nun, as well as the literal agony and ecstasy one experiences when trying to remain faithful to dogma. It’s a lovely, heartbreaking piece of work and, though the part of the Prosecutor is a rather peripheral one, I’d been really eager to work with Retro Productions for quite awhile–they do such good work and this production is no exception–so I jumped at the chance to be involved and I’m so glad I did.
ME: You are of course a playwright and director as well as an actor. Which of these disciplines is your favorite?
NAT: Oh, whichever one is bringing in more money. So currently they’re all at an even push.
Truthfully, it’s hard to say because, for me, they’re all very much interrelated. I’ve been acting since I was five years old so that’s pretty much been my identity my entire existence (despite having written stories, comedy sketches, and shitty novel-length monstrosities throughout my life, I didn’t really come to playwriting until I was about 24). To this day, I think the closest I come to contentment is when I’m onstage. It’s cliched as hell, I know, but there’s really just nothing like performing: inhabiting a role, turning something rehearsed into something spontaneous, simultaneously reveling in and staying ahead of a live audience’s response … It’s pretty damn sweet.
But, artistically, I gotta say I find playwriting to be the most fulfilling (and I look at directing as just another extension of the writing process). It’s not as immediately gratifying as acting can be (I’ve yet to find a good way to get applause after finishing writing a scene–my girlfriend just kinda smiles politely when I ask), it can be lonely and frustrating as hell … but, man, the possibilities alone are endless, the challenges even moreso, and the highs of really getting into the mechanics of a story and making it work just can’t be beat.
Like, just as a ferinstance, right now I’m working on scripts about a Kurosawa-esque ghost story about assassins in Sudan, a marital drama set on a space station, and an evening of horrifying monologues about a haunted house–and that’s just the stories I’m actively writing. I got loads of wacky ideas I’m just waiting to bite into. As an actor, I’d have to wait for one of those scripts to come along, but as a writer I can just say, “Fuck it, let’s make this happen.” It might not always work, but it keeps me engaged in a way that is far more sustainable than any acting job–the very nature of which is always temporary at best.
Plus, let’s be honest, the life of a writer can suck, but the life of an actor REALLY sucks. After having lived that life for literally decades, I’m enjoying the freedom.
The horrible, horrible freedom.
Oh, God, please, someone cast me in something.
(By the way, this doesn’t even address the fact that another big passion of mine–one I retreat to whenever the theatre world gets too annoying–er, difficult–is songwriting. But you can catch a pretty healthy and damned enjoyable sampling of some of those songs at the upcoming FringeNYC production of my newest script, SONGS OF LOVE: A THEATRICAL MIXTAPE, an evening of dark, twisted short plays and live music. Plug, plug, plug.)
ME: As a playwright, how does it feel to take on a role written by someone else? Does the playwright in you ever want to make edits to the role you’ve been given?
NAT: My background, and the bulk of my passion growing up, was classical theatre. I’ve been obsessed with Shakespeare since I was about 6 years old, so playing someone else’s role is nothing new. I always look at playing someone else’s role as participating in a grand tradition, actually. One I to which hope I get to see my own scripts contribute one day, as well.
In fact, I would say this predisposition gave me a habit opposite to the one in your question, and it’s a predisposition I’ve been trying to cure myself of for years now. As a classical actor, instead of performing a role and wanting to make dramaturgical edits, you’re much more inclined to try to figure out how to make everything work as is. The reason I’m trying to rid myself of this habit is, as a writer/director, this leads me sometimes to encounter a moment in a script I’m producing and instead of thinking, “Well, shit, this isn’t working; what needs to be operated on?” I find myself going, “No, no, this is an idiosyncrasy that must be embraced! We’ll fucking make it work!”
Thankfully, as a director, I think I’m actually pretty good at making things work, but if we’re ever going to get a Nat Cassidy script with a commercial run-time … well, like I said, I’m workin’ on it.
ME: How does being an actor inform how you write plays? Does the actor in you ever make suggestions to the playwright when you are writing?
NAT: Hugely. In fact, I’d say I rarely trust a playwright who’s not at least at one point been an actor him/herself. Everything I learned about writing plays came from performing in them and I often tend to create characters by envisioning the scenario and thinking, “What would I want to happen if I were onstage here?”
You can see it in my scripts pretty clearly, I think. I mean, I write plays as an actor-who-directs, so there are a lot of performance notes throughout. I try to limit them so as to not be annoying, and I’m always very, very keen to have the given actor try new things, but I also have a kind of particular style and many times the way a line is said is just as important to me as the words themselves for how it contributes to the internal logic of the dialogue I’m trying to establish.
That was just a very highfalutin way of saying I’m a pain in the ass, I think.
ME: When you write plays, do you write parts specifically for yourself? What’s your favorite role as an actor in one of your plays? What’s your favorite role as an actor, period?
NAT: I actually don’t anymore, and I count that as one of the significant moments of growth in my development as a writer. ‘Cause, believe me, that wasn’t always the case …
When I was a kid and first started trying my hand at writing fiction (i.e., aping Stephen King for reams at a time), it was with the hilariously level-headed intention of boosting my fledgling acting career by starring in the inevitable film adaptations. That obviously panned out exactly as expected.
Then, the first playscript I wrote, in 2006, was an adaptation of John Fowles’ novel The Collector, which I did specifically to give myself a role at a time when I was really dissatisfied with the things I was/wasn’t getting cast in. This was followed by the first original full-length script I wrote, The Reckoning of Kit and Little Boots, which had TWO roles I wanted to play. Thankfully, I was talked out of playing both at the same time and just stuck with playing Christopher Marlowe.
However, by that point, I had really fallen in love with the process of writing and found that the show I wrote directly after that, Any Day Now, had not a single role for me whatsoever. It was simply a story that I wanted to tell — I remember being quite surprised by that realization, and then feeling somehow freed. I also knew that it was kind of a point of no return. Kinda like when you date a wealthy dowager with the intention of just getting into her will and then bumping her off, but then you find yourself suddenly falling in love with her irascibly old fashioned ways.
So, since Any Day Now, there have been roles that I could conceivably play (less and less as I try to move far away from youngwhitemales), but I’m so intent on directing my premieres that I don’t even consider it an option, even in developmental readings. I am really not of the opinion that one should direct oneself in a theatrical production if it can be at all avoided.
The obvious exception, of course, would be my one-man show, but for that I made sure to get a damn fine director whose work I trusted (DeLisa M. White, hire her, hire her)–and, by default, either that role or Marlowe would have to be my favorite role I’ve written and played. Luckily, they’re both damn good roles, so I can stick by that pretty confidently.
As an actor in general, though, I hate to sound so frigging trite, but my favorite roles I’ve played are the oldies. Hamlet, Henry VI, Iago, Puck, Bottom, Jaques, et cetera, et cetera. You can take the boy out of the Shakespeare, but you can’t take the Shakespeare out of the boy.
That’s true, you know. He wrote several sonnets on that very subject.
The Seven Devils Playwrights Conference will be returning to its home in McCall, Idaho for the 12th year, June 11 – 23, 2012.
Seven Devils is a laboratory for development of new plays by authors from all over the USA. Indie Theater Now has published a collection of 11 plays developed at the Conference, which you can see here. The playwrights included in this collection represent some of Seven Devils’ most accomplished alumni: Andy Bragen, Caridad Svich, David Van Vleck, Francesca Sanders, Mara Lathrop, Larry Loebell, Dano Madden, James McLindon, Jonathan Yukich, Richard Brockman, and Jeni Mahoney.
Here’s more detail about the Conference, from Jeni, who is the artistic director of id Theater, the festival’s producer:
id Theater returns to McCall, Idaho for the 12th Seven Devils Playwrights Conference, June 11-23, sponsored by the Alpine Playhouse. Playwrights, actors and directors from around the country will travel to McCall and, working with local artists and students, develop ten new plays that will be presented to the public free of charge. Since 2001, the Conference has developed more than 100 new plays by some of the most exciting voices in American Theater.
The Conference will feature the work of 2012 Guest Artist, and award-winning playwright, Kara Lee Corthron whose new play Listen for the Light will be developed and presented as a staged reading at the Conference on Friday, June 15th. Ms. Corthron will also host a free playwriting workshop on Saturday, June 16th. The recipient of the 2008 Princess Grace Award, The Vineyard Theatre’s Paula Vogel Playwriting Award, the Helen Merrill Award and three Lincoln Center’s Lecomte du Nouy Prize; Ms. Corthron is an accomplished writer whose credits include both television and stage with work developed and produced at theaters throughout the country.
Five writers, whose plays were selected from more than 470 open submissions from all over the country will have their work developed and presented at the Conference. Samuel Brett Williams (Revelation), Tira Palmquist (Ten Mile Lake) and Brian Quirk (Warren) will have their plays presented as fully staged readings; and Brian Watkins (General Store) and Thomas Newby (Kingdoms of Rot) will have their work presented as seated readings. Four plays by students at McCall-Donnelly High School will also be presented as staged readings at the Conference.
Plays developed at Seven Devils have gone on to productions at venues around the country including the Humana Festival at Actors Theater of Louisville, Roundabout Theater Underground, Trinity Rep, Rattlestick Playwrights Theater, Barrington Stage Company, Chicago’s Gift Theater, Kitchen Theater, Montana Rep and Boise Contemporary Theater among others; have garnered awards such as the The John Gassner Playwriting Award (Faith by James McLindon), The Woodward/Newman Drama Award (Lemonade by Mark Krause), and the ACTF/Kennedy Center National Student Playwriting Award (In the Sawtooths by Dano Madden); and are published by Samuel French, Smith & Kraus, Applause, Original Works and Indie Theater Now which offers a collection of 11 plays developed through the Conference.
All Conference events are free and open to the public at all times. More information about schedules, events and travel can be found at: www.idtheater.org/7devils/. To reserve a space in the free playwriting workshop email: jeni@idtheater.org.
Montserrat Mendez on Gus Schulenburg’s DEINDE
Today we kick off a new series here on the Indie Theater Blog — Playwrights on Playwrights. In this first installment, Montserrat Mendez offers an appreciation of the newest play by August Schulenburg, DEINDE:
* * * * * * * * * *
What’s next?
August Schulenberg’s dazzling play DEINDE is not a sci-fi play. It is a sci-IF play: switch those two small, almost insignificant letters around in the equation and you get an infinite set of new possibilities.
And this is what is at the heart of DEINDE, a play I found revolutionary in its ability to look back while taking a humongous but reasonable leap forward.
In a recent episode of PBS’s Through the Wormhole, Scientist Michio Kaku, explained that we humans are all “programmed” to lust for life and to run from death. As a matter of fact, in his theory, suicides are nothing more than 404 errors on the great computer we call LIFE, our brains trying to compute around a “pernicious virus.”
Right now, scientists are looking at a way to extend life through such theories as Cryonic Preservation. It is our own fault, and DEINDE nails it beautifully, that science fiction has taught us that in the future we will look exactly the same–we will still put our pants on a leg at a time and yes, yes, we wouldn’t have found a solution to “going to the john.” But DEINDE proposes something quite different and thrilling, we will change, we will lose our humanity to become something more. Humanity is nothing more than a haiku and we’re at the verge of becoming something so complex that it will be, in our current minds, unrecognizable and quite unbeautiful.
But the most exciting theory belongs to scientist Frank J. Tipler of Tulane University. He theorizes the Omega Point, the point where humanity will reach maximum capacity and will create a cosmic computer–a gathering of all the intelligence, knowledge and data and once processed correctly, we will reach immortality and an ability to look forwards and backwards so that anyone who ever lived, will live again. It is a terrifying theory, all the more because it’s actually quite possible.
Albert Einstein believed that “There is no necessary conflict between science and religion if the nature of religion is properly understood.” Combine Tipler’s Omega Point theory, with August Schulenberg’s DEINDE and you can see where we are headed. We will become the GODS we pray to.
This evolution will be necessary if we’re ever to make the rest of our science fiction a reality. If we want to travel through the stars at warp speed (something we are prohibited from actually realistically theorizing because we lack a precise understanding of the workings of the universe) we will need to rethink the way we will be when we reach that capability. Our sci-fi needs a logical sci-if if we’re ever going to take the leaps we fantasize about. And there is a likelihood that we will not look like ourselves when we finally venture out into the stars.
Which is why DEINDE is thrilling drama! It puts humanity at the edge of such a leap and asks, is it time? Will it be worth it? Will we sacrifice our slow human artfulness for something quite unknown and cold seeming? Will the face of the future look like Jean Luc Picard on the deck of the Starship Enterprise or will it look totally different? Will you loop in or decide to loop out?
There is nothing in August Schulenburg’s play that feels false. At first viewing, the scene where Cooper decides to pray for the life of his wife seemed disjointed. He’s a scientist after all, why pray?
What he is praying for is not to God as we know him now, but to the God he has the capability of becoming combined with the human frailty of having to make a choice. Save or let someone die. He is praying to himself. It is that character’s Omega Point and on second viewing it blows your mind! After all, while we may seem advanced, we are mere children, newborns truly, our evolution is ongoing, expanding, our flaws fixing themselves, our biases merely viruses in a computer that need to be eliminated before our next evolution.
Of course, what I’ve described sounds cold and calculated, how would it make good, no, GREAT DRAMA? Well, Schulenburg is just that good at filling his characters with flaws, desires and needs that drive the themes of the play. The cast is just incredible; with a central grounded beautiful performance by Nitya Vidyasagar as scientist Nabanita, a woman who has created the next leap to the future, but does not partake of it because she is so nostalgically tethered to the past. The entire cast has moments to shine. They really should be so proud.
And Heather Cohn directs the hell out of it. Sit on the sides and watch the scenes take place on the reflective surfaces of the set and it feels like you’re watching the future. It’s such a simple set, and yet it feels so different with every scene. I consider Kia Rogers a good friend, but that is not going to stop me from saying she is my favorite lighting designer in the independent theatre scene.
One last, bittersweet note: I have missed much of Flux’s work. And for that I am so sorry, I can only imagine the past productions I have missed on based on DEINDE alone. I however, was a broke writer, working an 11pm to 8am killer schedule; which left me with precious little time to support friends and artists that everyone was talking about. I always heard the buzz on Flux, but this year, I had my own breakthroughs in my career and one of the joys of that is being able to finally afford to see these brilliant productions. I may not know the Flux of the past, but I certainly look forward to the FLUX of the future.
The Scream just got sold for $120 million. It’s a great painting; but wouldn’t that money have been better spent supporting new artists instead? 2,400 artists could have gotten 50 grand apiece.
Contemporary culture seems ever more to be a competition instead of a cornucopia. It’s May, which means it’s theater award season, which means that multiple bodies of relatively tiny numbers of self-appointed judges will reduce the season’s bounty of artistic endeavor to a few so-called “bests.” Leaving aside the idea of whether there actually can be a “Best Play” at any given moment, I question why trying to pick one is even worthwhile. I’d much rather delight in the variety and vibrancy and dynamism of a living and vital artform and feel happily frustrated that no one person can possibly experience all of it than diminish and reduce and manage that variety and vibrancy and dynamism by winnowing it down to three or four supposed exemplars of the art.
I mean, hey, come on, was the past year in theater just Clybourne Park and Newsies and Death of a Salesman? Absolutely not. It was two new plays by Mac Rogers and two new plays by August Schulenburg and two new plays by Larry Kunofsky. It was amazing revivals/rediscoveries from Retro Productions and Storm Theatre and Metropolitan Playhouse. It was five diverse women playwrights coming together for a singular work of theatrical activism called the Dream Act Plays. It was David Henry Hwang’s new play on Broadway AND Qui Nguyen’s new play with Hwang as a character in it on Theatre Row. It was Zoe Caldwell holding forth in an Upper West Side townhouse AND Mariah MacCarthy staging a would-be foursome in a Brooklyn apartment.
And that’s just off the top of my head; and just in the five boroughs of New York.
American drama–American theatre–is struggling for viability. But that struggle is all about economics and marketing, not about quality or quantity. Every year, it’s harder to cover the NYC theatre scene because every year there’s more to cover.
So, as we look back on the 2011-2012 theatre season, let’s not wrap it up in a neat package called “Tony Award winners” or whatever. Let’s thrill to its lack of neatness instead. Let’s celebrate ALL of it; let’s cheer for its fullness, and how rich and rewarding and challenging so much of it has proven to be.
Here’s an update from our friends at the United Solo Festival (who are curators of Indie Theater Now’s popular United Solo Collection):
United Solo, the world’s largest solo theatre festival, annually recognizes theatre artists for popularizing the form of the one-person show. The New York-based festival has unveiled the following nominees for its special 2012 uAward: Kathy Griffin in “Kathy Griffin Wants a Tony” (The Belasco Theater), John Hurt in “Krapp’s Last Tape” (Brooklyn Academy of Music), Hugh Jackman in “Hugh Jackman, Back on Broadway” (The Broadhurst Theatre), and John Leguizamo in “Ghetto Klown” (The Lyceum Theatre).
The recipient of the uAward will be announced at the United Solo Closing Ceremony, scheduled for November 18, 2012 at the Theatre ROW on 42nd Street in New York City. The winner will join the list of formerly awarded artists, including Anna Deavere Smith for “Let Me Down Easy” (2010) and Patti LuPone for “The Gypsy in My Soul” (2011).
The 2012 United Solo Closing Ceremony will conclude a six-week festival program during which a wide range of local and international shows will be presented to the general public. The producers are currently accepting submissions from all over the world. Theatre artists interested in participating are invited to submit their solo works now through May 21. More information can be found at the festival website: www.unitedsolo.org
More information on our nominees and awards can be found at www.unitedsolo.org/us/uaward/uaward-2012
John Clancy Directs Neil LaBute at Bloomsburg University
Indie Theater Now playwright John Clancy is directing a revival of Neil LaBute’s The Shape of Things at Bloomsburg University, starting tonight. Performances run through April 22. Bloomsburg is in northeastern Pennsylvania.
Facebook event information here.
Indie Theater Now’s David Dannenfelser teaches at Bloomsburg U.
Mariah MacCarthy’s Newest Play: The Foreplay Play
On Thursday, April 19, The Foreplay Play — the newest play from rising star playwright Mariah MacCarthy — will begin performances in a site-specific location (an apartment in Brooklyn). (Check out Mariah’s company’s website for details.)
I’m excited and pleased to announce that The Foreplay Play will be published on Indie Theater Now this week — concurrently with its world premiere. (As I say, that puts the NOW in Indie Theater Now.)
The play is about what happens when a straight couple goes to visit a lesbian couple for a planned foursome. I asked Mariah some questions about herself and her play; here’s our cyber-conversation:
ME: This play and the other one we have published on Indie Theater Now are both very specifically concerned with sex and sexuality. Why is this a theme that you come back to in your work?
MARIAH: With The All-American Genderf*ck Cabaret (available on Indie Theater Now, now!), I was looking at how we express–and f*ck–our gender in pursuing/having sex. In the context of the show, that might mean coming to terms with the fact that you are in love with someone who is neither male nor female, or it might mean turning down the drunk girl kissing you, even though you’re a virgin and she’s gorgeous. These interactions, which all revolve around sex, challenge the characters’ most basic concepts of their own identities (am I still a lesbian if I want someone who’s not a woman? still masculine if I turn down sex? etc.)
The Foreplay Play is relatively simple in comparison: a straight couple and a lesbian couple have decided to have a foursome. Rather than grappling with their gender identities, these characters are holding onto their relationships for dear life. In Genderf*ck, sex is a catalyst for self-discovery; in The Foreplay Play, it’s a weapon. Kisses are used to seduce, yes, but also to establish power, to put people in their place, to sabotage someone else’s relationship or sense of security.
I wrote a little manifesto about my tendency to write about sex a year and a half ago, and it applies pretty well to both Genderf*ck and The Foreplay Play:
- I write about sex because when you write about sex, you’re writing about vulnerability. You’re writing about power. You’re writing about people at their most joyful and most anguished. Writing about sex creates the conflict for you: the fear that the sex, and therefore the accompanying comfort or joy or love or acceptance or distraction, will go away. Or the fear that it may never come.
- I write about sex because it is nearly universal. Because most people who will see or read my plays will have had, wanted, and/or thought about some form of sex, perhaps extensively.
- I write about sex because it is so funny, yet we take it life-and-death seriously.
- I write about sex because whenever sex becomes a possibility, so does heartbreak.
- I write about sex, but I rarely write sex. Sex isn’t sexy enough; the wanting of it, the pursuit of it, the leading up to it, is infinitely more interesting to me. (Thus, “The Foreplay Play,” not “The Foursome Play.”)
- I know that writing about sex hardly makes me unique, but I also know that I write about sex in a different way than, say, Adam Rapp, or Sarah Kane, or Pinter. I write about sex as a goofy twentysomething feminist/gender activist woman who places a high value on playfulness and compassion.
- Mostly, I write about sex because it’s awesome.
ME: The Foreplay Play is being produced site-specifically in an apartment. Is this something that you decided you wanted to do from the very beginning with this play, and if so, why did you make that choice?
MARIAH: This play actually started as a 20-minute play, which was presented in two different theater spaces last year. When I wrote that first version, I had never thought to do it site-specifically. But then a little thing known as Daniel Talbott happened to me. Daniel directs an amazing site-specific directing class at ESPA, where I have taken classes for years and whose praises I will sing from any rooftop. A director in his class last summer, Ashley Marinaccio, asked if she could direct a scene from my musical Ampersand in Central Park, which of course I agreed to. Watching that scene opened up my brain. I started thinking, “Whoa. You could do the whole show site-specifically. In fact I could do ALL my shows site-specifically!”
I’d already been thinking of expanding The Foreplay Play into a full-length, and when I did, it was with the thought of doing it in an actual apartment. I thought that for this play especially, the intimacy of that experience would feel deliciously voyeuristic and uncomfortable. Also, since I’m producing the play via my company, Caps Lock Theatre, it’s a lot cheaper to say to someone, “Hey, can we do a play in your apartment and split the box office with you?” than to rent a “traditional” theater space. Not having to build a set is also fantastic; the apartment we’re using already has such charm that we’ve had to change very little about it for our purposes.
The space has also presented some obstacles. For whatever reason, watching a play in an actual apartment makes everything feel more casual, and you have to fight harder to maintain the tension. And when you’re that up close and personal, you have to be VERY clever about the things you “fudge.” There are things that have to be consumed and broken every night, which is a challenge. But it’s also wonderful, to have to commit to making everything about this show as real as possible–almost hyper-real.
ME: Could the play be performed in a traditional theater space? What do you think would be different about that kind of presentation?
MARIAH: You could certainly do it in a traditional theater space, and I hope that people do. The play still works without the sorta-creepy, voyeuristic intimacy that a real apartment provides. But I also hope that it inspires people to think more creatively about how–and where–they make their art.
ME: Mariah, can you talk a little bit about how you write your plays: Do you write them out longhand, or on a computer? Do you write every day? Do you lock yourself in a room and write alone, or do you need people around you to stimulate your process?
MARIAH:
1. Put yourself in a situation where people will be annoyed at you for NOT writing. Take a class, or set a date for a reading.
2. Procrastinate like hell.
3. Beat yourself up for procrastinating like hell.
4. Accidentally finish the play when you thought you still had a long ways to go.
5. Feel shocked.
Actually, that’s how this play was born. One of the actors, Nic Grelli, was in a show in San Francisco in the fall. I said, “OK, we’re having a reading of The Foreplay Play as soon as you get back,” and set a date. The play was not yet written when I set the date, but it was by the date of the reading. My creative process very badly needs other people. At least half the reason I do theater is to hang out with people. It’s very hard to motivate myself if no one else is involved.
ME: We’re publishing The Foreplay Play on Indie Theater Now at the same time as the play opens. Should people see the play first, read it first, or does it matter?
MARIAH: My gut says, see it first! There are so many crazy, surprising moments. Let yourself be swept up by that first. Then go back and connect the dots by reading it.
Though I think you could also have a richer, more informed experience by reading it first. This play is certainly more delightful and explosive on its feet than I knew it was on paper, and I think it could be very fulfilling to experience it in a quieter, more private way first.
Either way, just come see it. And read it. Both. In whatever order feels right.
Robert Attenweiler Talks Sports, Theater
Our Greatest Year is about a sports blogger who journeys to Cleveland to be with his dad; it takes place in 2007, a year that had Cleveland sports nuts on the edge of their seats as their teams came THIS CLOSE to winning it all in football, baseball, and basketball. It’s on Indie Theater Now; check out the excerpt.
Playwright Robert Attenweiler recently traveled to his hometown of Cleveland for the regional premiere of Our Greatest Year. Obviously, a lot of potential for different kinds of emotions here; Robert captures them all in his 3-part blog report on his trip home. Here’s more about the blog posts, in Robert’s own words:
If you’ve been keeping up with us the last few months, you know that we just got back from taking our show, Our Greatest Year, to Cleveland. We were brought out as visiting artists via John Carroll University, which allowed a limited run of the show at the amazing Dobama Theatre just down the street from JCU.
We got to see a lot of friends, family and colleagues while we were in Ohio – many of whom had never had a chance to see our work – which was all very awesome. Our thanks to those who came out and whose generosity made the whole experience, first, possible, and then a reality.
Scott [Henkle, Robert's collaborator] and I also got a fun little assignment along the way from our friends at The Classical, who wanted us to do a running diary of our week that, like the show, would be a mix of comics and text. We’re really proud of the way they turned out. They’re quick, they’re fun – and it’s the best way I can think to let you see how our week went.
So, take a minute and check out Entry 1, Entry 2 and Entry 3 and see our preoccupation with food, our opening night jitters and the aftermath of the run all brought to you in competently assembled sentences and glorious visuals!
Teaser: here’s a sample of Robert’s blogging artistry:
Much of the success of this play is about exploiting the Clevelander’s sense of constantly being on the brink of soul-crushing disappointment and everything I’m hearing since getting here is not disappointment, but an oddly positive astonishment. Like the Grinch peering down on Whoville, I’m left befuddled over the fact that everyone’s just so damn happy.
Check out these pieces on The Classical, as well as an earlier piece Robert wrote about Sports and Theater. He speculates in this piece about the Broadway play Magic/Bird; as a result of that speculation we sent Robert to see Magic/Bird (his review will be posted on nytheatre.com after the show opens on April 11).
Learn more about Robert Attenweiler and Scott Henkle on Indie Theater Now.
Meet The Playwrights: Laura Wickens
Today we’re launching a new series here on the Indie Theater Blog: Meet the Playwrights. The idea is that every time we bring a new playwright into the Indie Theater Now family, we want to introduce her or him to our readers–make a bit of a fuss, you know, and get everybody as excited about this artist as I am.
To kick this off — Meet Laura Wickens!
Laura Wickens
Laura has two plays on Indie Theater Now: Nick, which is an adaptation of Chekhov’s Ivanov, first produced by Blessed Unrest back in 2009; and The Storm, an adaptation of the play by Ostrovsky, premiering this very week (April 13, 2012), also under the aegis of Blessed Unrest. I asked Laura a few questions so we can get to know a bit about her:
ME: Laura, can you tell us briefly about your background: where are you from, where did you go to school, what made you decide to become involved with the theater?
LAURA: Sure, I grew up in a fairly rural county in Ohio containing a few depressed industrial pockets here and there along with Amish farms. Due to my speech difficulties and related shyness, my mother enrolled me in a summer theatre program and that was IT for me. I do feel fortunate – and yet a bit strange too – that I discovered my life’s passion at age 8.
ME: I know you studied in St. Petersburg. How did that come about, and what are the most important things about that experience that you think differentiate you from American actors/playwrights?
LAURA: While I was an undergrad at Bard, I was asked to join a cultural exchange program with Herzen University in St. Petersburg, Russia. While I was studying poetry and literature, one of my professors recognized that I was an actor and literally picked up the phone to Maly Theatre. Next day I was training and studying with their young company of interns. No money was asked for this experience; it was just where they thought I belonged. In Russia, artists belong to their own class – which was a very different take than what I had experienced in rural Ohio to say the least. While studying in Russia, revolution was happening and due to the upheaval of the Soviet ways, violence and acts of generosity were present in everyday life – along with hunger and constant art. This time of extremes has influenced and continues to influence my work as an artist.
ME: Both of your Indie Theater Now plays are adaptations of Russian classics. What is about Russian drama that interests you? How do you choose plays to adapt?
LAURA: Russian drama interests me because of the spectrum of emotion and action in it: going from comedy to tragedy, often in a space of two lines or less. For the last few years, I’ve been drawn to Russian plays ending in suicide. Why does our hero or heroine so full of promise decide that there is no hope? This progression from light to utter darkness fascinates me as a storyteller, particularly when the hero/heroine is aware and critical of the world around them.
ME: Do you speak Russian, and do the translating yourself?
LAURA: Yes, I speak Russian but am very rusty now. For my plays, I do all of my own translating from the original (with multiple dictionaries) and take great liberties. I’m not interested in exact translation per se but more in how to convey 19th century situations and thoughts to present day.
ME: Blessed Unrest has been your producer for both Nick and The Storm. How did you get involved with the company?
LAURA: Jessica Burr [co-founder/artistic director of Blessed Unrest] and I met at Bard while performing in A Streetcar Named Desire directed by Chris Markle way back when. When I finished my MFA in 2002, we reconnected and starting working together. We share a very similar theatre aesthetic in that we’re interested in highlighting the heart of a story with naturalism and then surrounding and overlapping that story with visual sub textual elements, often ones of expressionism. So far, my translations have been quite open in terms of design, movement, dance and musical choices, and have allowed Burr much freedom and artistic creativity in devising the world. My goal is to learn as much (if not) more from the direction, design, and actors as they do from the script. And with Burr and Blessed Unrest, this has been possible – and I do feel fortunate in that. And am very excited for The Storm to open on Friday the 13th of April!
Learn more about Laura Wickens on Indie Theater Now.
Rich Orloff Talks About Funny
Mike Smith Rivera, Anne Fizzard, Jarel Davidow, Evan Thompson, and Gerrianne Raphael in a scene from HA! (photo by Gerry Goodstein)
Rich Orloff–who describes himself as “one of the most popular unknown playwrights in the country”–is the prolific writer of dozens of one-act and full-length plays that have in common one important thing: they are very, very funny. On the occasion of the publication of his current triad of comedies, HA! (playing through April 15 at the WorkShop Theatre), I asked Rich to talk a little about funny. Here’s the cyber-conversation:
ME: Rich, you told me you were amused re-reading the plays in HA! when you proofed them for the site. That made me wonder: do you laugh when you write your plays?
RICH: Of course, I laugh when I write my plays. I’m my first audience, and if I’m not amused, I don’t assume anybody else will be. But there’s something deeper than that. I take pride in my sense of craft and in my persistence in revising a play until it is as good as I think I can make it. But whatever gift I have – that part of my brain that comes up with funny ideas and dialogue, I’m as startled by that as anyone who attends my plays and is startled by how much they’re laughing. My talent is a joy and wonder to me. I’m grateful, surprised and delighted every time it emerges. Often I’m not just laughing, I’m also thinking, “Where did that come from?”
ME: When did you first realize you could write funny material?
RICH: Well, I’ve certainly had the inclination to write funny material since I was a kid. Growing up in Chicago, I wrote comedic comic strips and stuff that friends and even some teachers enjoyed. But I figured anyone could write funny; just not many people wanted to. In college, after the theater department kept rejecting my plays (ha!), I started writing a humor column for the school newspaper. I became an overnight sensation. Literally! I’d introduce myself to people, and they’d thank me for making them laugh. It was about then I began to think that maybe my inclination to write funny was actually matched by the ability to occasionally do so. And that not everybody had such a gift.
ME: Have there been times when actors found laughs you didn’t know were there?
RICH: Constantly. Every production includes “sure-fire” moments that end up not working (in that production) and surprise moments that the actors and director discover. HA! has an inventive director and ensemble of actors, and there are all sorts of moments they’ve discovered to get laughs or to get bigger laughs than I expected. Even one of the slides gets a laugh nobody was expecting. Of course, it’s a very talented slide.
ME: Who taught you to write the way you do?
RICH: Some key moments:
- When I discovered the Marx Brothers in high school (New Year’s Eve, senior year), it was a revelation! Such brilliant anarchy, such “take-no-prisoners” comedy. And such brilliant craftsmanship in taking an idea as far as it could go – and further. I devoured all 13 Marx Brothers films, and it led to a fascination with other film comedians and vaudeville comedy.
- The spring of my senior year (an important year for my writing development), I attended a performance of the Second City and loved their smart observational satire. No gags, just keen perceptions about how amusing the human being constantly is.
- Then in college I saw the film It Happened One Night, and my sense of what comedy could do shifted again. I loved the quiet scenes, the comedy of nuance. Satire mixed with compassion.
- Rounding off the key teachers would be Monty Python (“smart silly” is a delicious combo) and the sitcoms All in the Family and The Mary Tyler Moore Show. The best sitcoms of that era were wonderful one-act comedies, which knew how far to exaggerate to get laughs without losing recognizable human behavior. It’s what I strive to do in my plays. Well, when I’m not just going for anarchic laughs or smart silly.
ME: Who are your idols/heroes?
RICH: Certainly all of my teachers mentioned above. Beyond that, I have an enormous fondness for almost everyone in the theater. The cast of HA! includes two Broadway veterans and three others with lots of credits. None of them is doing this play for the money or even the prestige. They love what they do; they need to do it. And they come out on stage, in a theater with only thirty seats, and they give it their all. They commit to each potentially funny moment, never knowing for sure how that audience will respond, but knowing that if they don’t commit, the plays won’t work. That takes great courage. It makes scribbling funny thoughts on a piece of paper look easy.
ME: Finally, is laughter really the best medicine?
RICH: A good hearty laugh is like an orgasm, except that you don’t have to wait as long till you can laugh again.
Learn more about HA! (just published on Indie Theater Now) here.
