So, in my last entry, I promised to update this at least once a week. That was...how many weeks ago? I've lost count. Yep. I'm a liar. A big, stinking liar.
But I'm back! And Stage Left has loads of exciting summer programming coming your way.
Here's just a tiny taste of what's in store:
DrekFest: America's best (and only) festival of the world's worst ten-minute plays. Not to be missed.
Nine2Nine Intensive Writing Seminar: all day writing course that culminates in the professional staging of YOUR work. A unique opportunity at a rock-bottom recession buster price. Space is limited.
Stage Left's Greatest Hits: Staged readings of some of your favorite plays from Stage Left's illustrious history, beginning with Leander Stillwell and Burying the Bones.
Garage Sale! A chance to dig for treasures from Stage Left's wondrous storerooms. you'll come away with jaw-dropping bargains, for sure.
Not to mention Trivia Night!
All this and more, coming your way soon. Very soon! Watch this space for more details, or visit our website at www.stagelefttheatre.com
Monday, July 13, 2009
Saturday, June 6, 2009
Some Thoughts on Swine Flu and Germ Warfare
A few final words from Karla Jennings, author of LeapFest play The Ruby Vector.
"When Pigs Fly, We Hurt"
The swine flu's an international invasion. Last week The New York Times said that WHO had confirmed cases in 41 countries, with eight U.S. deaths (this week's count is 11). Since thousands of Americans die of flu during a typical flu season, so far, at least, it hasn't achieved the awful potential officials fear it can. It might evolve into a stronger form, especially if it combines with the avian flu virus known as SARS. That could happen if infected birds swim and poop into hog farm ponds that are used to water the pigs and wash their sties. Pigs take up the avian flu virus, which messes around with the swine flu virus, and an eviler creature takes wing.
One great weirdness about the swine flu, according to The New York Times article and other sources I've read, is that it hits the strongest the worst. Epidemics typically nail people under 2, over 70, or immunologically fragile, but last week the CDC's Daniel Jernigan said only 13% of the 247 U.S. residents hospitalized for swine flu are over age 50. Typically, that number's 90%. Why are the geezers getting off so easy? Though most of those stricken in the U.S. had other medical conditions that put them at risk, that doesn't explain why the elderly, for once, are pulling the lucky straw.
The very young are more at risk since they're still developing their immune systems, while elderly immune systems have lost a lot of their punch, but the immune systems of those 15 to 50 are going full blast; they're the toughest among us. How can a virus most harm those best steeled against it?
It's the kind of puzzle bioweapons researchers love because they want to replicate it. Like Ruby Vector's Demyan Veronin, those guys don't care if Aunt Pearl or little Tommy Toddler die, they want to wipe out the Marine Corps. They want to kill burly, strapping soldiers. I came across two theories on how a natural virus does just that.
One is described in Wikipedia under "1918 Flu Pandemic." The Great Spanish Flu Epidemic of 1918 had a viciously high infection and mortality rate, killing 2% to 20% of its victims (depending on the country hit), as opposed to the usual 0.1%. Its symptoms were so unusual -- victims would hemorrhage from the nose, stomach, intestines, and ears -- that it was often misdiagnosed as dengue, cholera, or typhoid. It's estimated that 50 to 100 million people died worldwide, from the Arctic to the Pacific islands. Most were adults in the prime of life.
Suspect # One for this is a "cytokine storm." Cytokines are the immune system's signaling molecules. When an infection hits, they order the body's attack cells to sic'em, so the more cytokines you have, the better your body can attack invading bugs.
But the Spanish flu hit so hard so fast that it may have triggered the young adult's quickly-responsive cytokines into warp speed, overexciting the immune system into an out-of-control attack that ravaged its own body, causing vigorous young men and women to drop dead of their own internal friendly fire. That's what health professionals fear could happen with today's swine flu because the 1918 pandemic was caused by a -- you guessed it -- swine flu strain similar to what's creeping around the world.
Suspect # Two demonstrates the kiss me/kill me relationship we have with the bugs that embrace us. It's called the Protection Theory. It holds that younger adults aren't more vulnerable to the swine flu, but that geezers are tougher than they look because they have antibodies to the 1918 swine flu epidemic.
The CDC's Jernigan explained that from 1918 to 1957, all circulating seasonal type-A flus were weakened descendants of the deadly 1918 Spanish flu, which, like today's swine flu, is an H1N1 bug ("H1N1" refers to the virus's genetic makeup). So if you're old enough, the virus that left you groaning on the living room couch while Mom thoughtfully spread newspapers on the floor and put a wastebasket near your head could be what saves your life, should the new pig germ decide to visit you. And though it might seem as if it's leaving us, it's likely to return.
Knocking the Spanish
Sometimes you get flack for doing the right thing. That was the deal with Spain, which didn't participate in WWI. Because the open Spanish press reported the spread of a vicious new flu while countries at war censored their press and so kept mum about it, the world came to call it "The Spanish flu." It might have actually originated in Kansas, the prairie homeland of amber waves and creationist flatheads. Other possible origins are China, Brest (France), or Austria. It's hard to tell, since flu shape-shifts so easily; the 1918 flu might've been harmlessly toddling along worldwide until a mutation somewhere turned it into Doom.
The 1918 Kansas "Spanish Flu" was first detected at Fort Riley. Soldiers are great vectors for disease; they're packed together, highly mobile, and on the march. (A vector is a carrier that brings a germ from one location to another or one species to another.) Wikipedia notes how the 1918 soldiers spread the germ; "In civilian life evolutionary pressures favor a mild strain: those who get really sick stay home, but the mildly ill continue with their lives, go to work and go shopping, preferentially spreading the mild strain. In the trenches the evolutionary pressures were reversed: soldiers with a mild strain remained where they were, while the severely ill were sent on crowded trains to crowded field hospitals, spreading the deadlier virus. So the second wave began and flu quickly spread around the world again. It was the same flu in that those who recovered from first-wave infections were immune, but it was far more deadly, and the most vulnerable people were those like the soldiers in the trenches -- young, otherwise healthy, adults."
Which begs two questions: If the swine flu returns, will it be deadlier? And who -- discreetly appearing in anonymous facemasks and latex gloves, quietly collecting, quickly disappearing -- are taking swine flu samples not with the intent of curing it, but of making it worse?
"When Pigs Fly, We Hurt"
The swine flu's an international invasion. Last week The New York Times said that WHO had confirmed cases in 41 countries, with eight U.S. deaths (this week's count is 11). Since thousands of Americans die of flu during a typical flu season, so far, at least, it hasn't achieved the awful potential officials fear it can. It might evolve into a stronger form, especially if it combines with the avian flu virus known as SARS. That could happen if infected birds swim and poop into hog farm ponds that are used to water the pigs and wash their sties. Pigs take up the avian flu virus, which messes around with the swine flu virus, and an eviler creature takes wing.
One great weirdness about the swine flu, according to The New York Times article and other sources I've read, is that it hits the strongest the worst. Epidemics typically nail people under 2, over 70, or immunologically fragile, but last week the CDC's Daniel Jernigan said only 13% of the 247 U.S. residents hospitalized for swine flu are over age 50. Typically, that number's 90%. Why are the geezers getting off so easy? Though most of those stricken in the U.S. had other medical conditions that put them at risk, that doesn't explain why the elderly, for once, are pulling the lucky straw.
The very young are more at risk since they're still developing their immune systems, while elderly immune systems have lost a lot of their punch, but the immune systems of those 15 to 50 are going full blast; they're the toughest among us. How can a virus most harm those best steeled against it?
It's the kind of puzzle bioweapons researchers love because they want to replicate it. Like Ruby Vector's Demyan Veronin, those guys don't care if Aunt Pearl or little Tommy Toddler die, they want to wipe out the Marine Corps. They want to kill burly, strapping soldiers. I came across two theories on how a natural virus does just that.
One is described in Wikipedia under "1918 Flu Pandemic." The Great Spanish Flu Epidemic of 1918 had a viciously high infection and mortality rate, killing 2% to 20% of its victims (depending on the country hit), as opposed to the usual 0.1%. Its symptoms were so unusual -- victims would hemorrhage from the nose, stomach, intestines, and ears -- that it was often misdiagnosed as dengue, cholera, or typhoid. It's estimated that 50 to 100 million people died worldwide, from the Arctic to the Pacific islands. Most were adults in the prime of life.
Suspect # One for this is a "cytokine storm." Cytokines are the immune system's signaling molecules. When an infection hits, they order the body's attack cells to sic'em, so the more cytokines you have, the better your body can attack invading bugs.
But the Spanish flu hit so hard so fast that it may have triggered the young adult's quickly-responsive cytokines into warp speed, overexciting the immune system into an out-of-control attack that ravaged its own body, causing vigorous young men and women to drop dead of their own internal friendly fire. That's what health professionals fear could happen with today's swine flu because the 1918 pandemic was caused by a -- you guessed it -- swine flu strain similar to what's creeping around the world.
Suspect # Two demonstrates the kiss me/kill me relationship we have with the bugs that embrace us. It's called the Protection Theory. It holds that younger adults aren't more vulnerable to the swine flu, but that geezers are tougher than they look because they have antibodies to the 1918 swine flu epidemic.
The CDC's Jernigan explained that from 1918 to 1957, all circulating seasonal type-A flus were weakened descendants of the deadly 1918 Spanish flu, which, like today's swine flu, is an H1N1 bug ("H1N1" refers to the virus's genetic makeup). So if you're old enough, the virus that left you groaning on the living room couch while Mom thoughtfully spread newspapers on the floor and put a wastebasket near your head could be what saves your life, should the new pig germ decide to visit you. And though it might seem as if it's leaving us, it's likely to return.
Knocking the Spanish
Sometimes you get flack for doing the right thing. That was the deal with Spain, which didn't participate in WWI. Because the open Spanish press reported the spread of a vicious new flu while countries at war censored their press and so kept mum about it, the world came to call it "The Spanish flu." It might have actually originated in Kansas, the prairie homeland of amber waves and creationist flatheads. Other possible origins are China, Brest (France), or Austria. It's hard to tell, since flu shape-shifts so easily; the 1918 flu might've been harmlessly toddling along worldwide until a mutation somewhere turned it into Doom.
The 1918 Kansas "Spanish Flu" was first detected at Fort Riley. Soldiers are great vectors for disease; they're packed together, highly mobile, and on the march. (A vector is a carrier that brings a germ from one location to another or one species to another.) Wikipedia notes how the 1918 soldiers spread the germ; "In civilian life evolutionary pressures favor a mild strain: those who get really sick stay home, but the mildly ill continue with their lives, go to work and go shopping, preferentially spreading the mild strain. In the trenches the evolutionary pressures were reversed: soldiers with a mild strain remained where they were, while the severely ill were sent on crowded trains to crowded field hospitals, spreading the deadlier virus. So the second wave began and flu quickly spread around the world again. It was the same flu in that those who recovered from first-wave infections were immune, but it was far more deadly, and the most vulnerable people were those like the soldiers in the trenches -- young, otherwise healthy, adults."
Which begs two questions: If the swine flu returns, will it be deadlier? And who -- discreetly appearing in anonymous facemasks and latex gloves, quietly collecting, quickly disappearing -- are taking swine flu samples not with the intent of curing it, but of making it worse?
Thursday, June 4, 2009
it ain't over til it's over
LeapFest is over, the set has been struck, the last of the props are being sorted and stored. Three weeks and five terrific plays. I hope that you enjoyed the festival, and this blog.
Keep watching this space. Over the summer, there will be information about DrekFest (you don't want to miss THAT, trust me!) and our other summer programming, as well updates about our impending move, next season, and other exciting stuff. I will update the blog at least once a week, so stay with us!
Keep watching this space. Over the summer, there will be information about DrekFest (you don't want to miss THAT, trust me!) and our other summer programming, as well updates about our impending move, next season, and other exciting stuff. I will update the blog at least once a week, so stay with us!
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Walking a Tight Rope
An interview with Noelle Hardy, who plays part of the ghost chorus in Hungry Ghosts.
How do you choose the roles you play, and why did you choose to participate in this project?
Why Hungry Ghosts? M.E.H. Lewis - Working with on something by her is almost always guaranteed to be not only interesting but fun. I look forward to any opportunity I have to jump in on a project involving her. Choosing roles is a lot in timing and luck. I try to hold out for roles that are a challenge; characters that I don't agree with or that I find lots of fault with. The process of understand how they tick and what compels them make those "bad"or "imprudent" choices helps me learn about life, myself, acting, and hopefully that struggle teaches me a bit of humility. When I cannot get that sort of "meat" in a role I go for directors, writers, and colleagues that I enjoy working with.
Can you describe the part you play in Hungry Ghosts?
I play one of the ensemble that surrounds the chief protagonists in the play, Alice and Isabelle. As the ensemble we contribute to the tapestry of foreign flavor and life. We help support, agitate, and in some cases propel their journeys. We use vocal and physicality to help create the mood needed as Alice and Isabelle struggle with the past or the lack of a past.
What was most challenging and/or rewarding for you about that part?
It's always challenging to be part of an ensemble. You walk a tight-rope to stay engaged, especially when you are not being featured in a scene. We run the risk of stealing focus, or totally disengaging and seeming to space out until it's time to talk. Margaret has done a wonderful job of stacking the dialogue in a way that we don't get to space out for too long before we have to chime in behind one of the leads to help a certain emotion or idea resonate. We are always on the stage too so there really is no opportunity relax or get a drink or anything and that can be a bit difficult..
What is your process of preparing for a role?
It's different every time. If I am doing what I call 'heavy lifting" I use photos, and create a sound track that I listen to on the way to the theatre or anytime I'm off stage. So that I stay on the verge of the emotional state of the character. In this particular play I have spent a lot of time creatively riffing with the other talented actors to create the entity of the ensemble that is comfortable going with a choice and experimenting with every riff that is presented. There really is a wonderful trust that has formed and I hope to be so lucky to work with this crew again.
How was that process different in the compressed timeline of LeapFest?
Pain! No. Kidding. It was a challenge because of the time lapses between rehearsals and the demands of the play to have a very strong ensemble, multiple locations and much physical and vocal experimentation. I'm afraid all the layers we would have liked to add were impossible to get, but that type of thing can really take years of a run to fully developer. The brush strokes we do have are extremely beautiful and affecting. But now I"m bragging.
Hungry Ghosts is an intensively ensemble-driven piece. Can you talk about the experience of participating in that?
It has been really incredible. I'm used to being a bit isolated in my acting and focusing on my process totally unless I am directly talking to an actor in a scene. I find such a strong connection to this particular cast that a constant and inexhaustible level of energy flows from and into me. It's an extraordinary sensation to be on stage and loose your identity to a much larger thing. It could be very unnerving with a cast that I don't love and trust to well.
For you, what is this play about?
For me this play is about truth, maturation and resolution. Finding truth is one thing. Accepting truth when you find it is another thing entirely. Alice like a child is unwilling to accept that she cannot find every missing piece, Isabelle is equally unwilling to acknowledge her personal history, both of these blocks are blinding these women to the truth and is staring them in the face so to speak. The journey they have together causes them to mature and see the truths face to face and then resolution follows.
Any other thoughts?
Ya'll come back now. Y'hear?
You can see the final performance of Hungry Ghosts tonight, May 29th at 7:30pm.
How do you choose the roles you play, and why did you choose to participate in this project?
Why Hungry Ghosts? M.E.H. Lewis - Working with on something by her is almost always guaranteed to be not only interesting but fun. I look forward to any opportunity I have to jump in on a project involving her. Choosing roles is a lot in timing and luck. I try to hold out for roles that are a challenge; characters that I don't agree with or that I find lots of fault with. The process of understand how they tick and what compels them make those "bad"or "imprudent" choices helps me learn about life, myself, acting, and hopefully that struggle teaches me a bit of humility. When I cannot get that sort of "meat" in a role I go for directors, writers, and colleagues that I enjoy working with.
Can you describe the part you play in Hungry Ghosts?
I play one of the ensemble that surrounds the chief protagonists in the play, Alice and Isabelle. As the ensemble we contribute to the tapestry of foreign flavor and life. We help support, agitate, and in some cases propel their journeys. We use vocal and physicality to help create the mood needed as Alice and Isabelle struggle with the past or the lack of a past.
What was most challenging and/or rewarding for you about that part?
It's always challenging to be part of an ensemble. You walk a tight-rope to stay engaged, especially when you are not being featured in a scene. We run the risk of stealing focus, or totally disengaging and seeming to space out until it's time to talk. Margaret has done a wonderful job of stacking the dialogue in a way that we don't get to space out for too long before we have to chime in behind one of the leads to help a certain emotion or idea resonate. We are always on the stage too so there really is no opportunity relax or get a drink or anything and that can be a bit difficult..
What is your process of preparing for a role?
It's different every time. If I am doing what I call 'heavy lifting" I use photos, and create a sound track that I listen to on the way to the theatre or anytime I'm off stage. So that I stay on the verge of the emotional state of the character. In this particular play I have spent a lot of time creatively riffing with the other talented actors to create the entity of the ensemble that is comfortable going with a choice and experimenting with every riff that is presented. There really is a wonderful trust that has formed and I hope to be so lucky to work with this crew again.
How was that process different in the compressed timeline of LeapFest?
Pain! No. Kidding. It was a challenge because of the time lapses between rehearsals and the demands of the play to have a very strong ensemble, multiple locations and much physical and vocal experimentation. I'm afraid all the layers we would have liked to add were impossible to get, but that type of thing can really take years of a run to fully developer. The brush strokes we do have are extremely beautiful and affecting. But now I"m bragging.
Hungry Ghosts is an intensively ensemble-driven piece. Can you talk about the experience of participating in that?
It has been really incredible. I'm used to being a bit isolated in my acting and focusing on my process totally unless I am directly talking to an actor in a scene. I find such a strong connection to this particular cast that a constant and inexhaustible level of energy flows from and into me. It's an extraordinary sensation to be on stage and loose your identity to a much larger thing. It could be very unnerving with a cast that I don't love and trust to well.
For you, what is this play about?
For me this play is about truth, maturation and resolution. Finding truth is one thing. Accepting truth when you find it is another thing entirely. Alice like a child is unwilling to accept that she cannot find every missing piece, Isabelle is equally unwilling to acknowledge her personal history, both of these blocks are blinding these women to the truth and is staring them in the face so to speak. The journey they have together causes them to mature and see the truths face to face and then resolution follows.
Any other thoughts?
Ya'll come back now. Y'hear?
You can see the final performance of Hungry Ghosts tonight, May 29th at 7:30pm.
Keeping Us All in Line
Now that LeapFest is over, a few words from Christopher Thompson, the heroic soul who kept it all together and moving forward.
You're the LeapFest stage manager. Many people may not know exactly what a stage manager does, so could you give us a quick job description?
Basically, a stage manager works closely with all of the members of the production team; directors, producers, actors, designers, and anyone else involved with the show. One of their main jobs is to organize all of the information passed around from all of the groups and make sure that the individuals that the information is meant for receive it. I also run the rehearsals, if a production requires it (because of LeapFest’s unique nature, I was not needed at the rehearsals and was brought in for tech). Tech is an extremely important time for a stage manager, as it is the culmination of all the designers work. The stage manager takes detailed notes pertaining to the Light and Sound Cues, specific visual cues, and any other technical aspects that pertain tithe performance (such as projectors in two of the LeapFest shows). Wit hall of the information gathered over the tech days, the stage manager gathers it all in his script book, and should be ready for the performances. In some cases, it is required of a stage manager to run the cues that he would normally be calling. With LeapFest, the light,sound, and projection cues are all run from the booth (in the Upper Stage Left Corner of the space), by myself. Sometimes there are other operators on the light and sound boards, and in those cases, the stage manager would do what is known as “calling” a show. This means that they would call the cue out loud so that the other operators know when to run them. In a nutshell, those are the basics of stage management. There is also the setting up before anyone arrives, making sure everyone has everything that they need, and shutting down/closing up the space after each use.
Tell us a little bit about your background and what drew you to stage management.
When I was in high school, I spent the majority of my time on the stage.I was fortunate enough to be in a class that was very theatrically inclined and during my sophomore year, we were able to start an All-School Musical each year. I performed roles which I will never have a chance to play again, like Adam/Noah from Children of Eden, Jean Valjean from Les Miserables, and the Beast from Beauty and the Beast. Although I love performing on stage (both singing and acting), I was drawn into the backstage aspects during my final year of high school. I stage managed a musical called Thoroughly Modern Millie and was in love ever since. I have always believed that I was a very organized person (sometimes to the extreme of OCD), and stage management allowed me to use those skills along with my ability to interact with people well. When I arrived at Loyola, I continued acting, but took up stage management as well and have been going at it ever since.
LeapFest consists of five different plays performed over three weeks. That's a daunting schedule. What drew you to this project, and what's the greatest challenge?
I first heard of Stage Left’s need for a stage manager through an email and met with Artistic Director Drew Martin soon after responding. After reading up on both Stage Left and LeapFest, I gained an incredible respect for the work that everyone puts into bringing these plays to the next level. Whenever you see a show, or work on an older piece, there is much more available for reference. Chances are, the lines are not going to be changed halfway through the rehearsal period, as I’m fairly sure that Eugene O’Neill or Tennessee Williams would not appreciate changes to the text. And even if there are changes, they will most likely be small, perhaps a word or phrase change. LeapFest offers the working space to improve a work in progress, making it performance ready. I had never worked on a new play proj challenge, although I wouldn’t call it a challenge is the shortness of my involvement with the shows. In the usual situation, the stage manager is in the production process from the very beginning, and in LeapFest, I was present starting at tech. This creates no major problems, but the connections that I would have usually made with a cast, production team,and director is cut short in this festival. Although I have enjoyed every moment working with everyone involved, it has been a short process.
From your perspective, how would you describe LeapFest?
Well, taking a little from the above section, LeapFest is exactly how it sounds, a festival dedicated to giving new plays that leap into the next step towards becoming a full production. One of the greatest things that I believe LeapFest offers is the Talk-Back session at the end of every show. Audience members give their perspective of the play, including what they did not understand, what could be clearer, etc. Through this,playwrights are able to see how their play affects a wide range of individuals, giving them a greater insight into their play. LeapFest offers the playwrights this unique chance.
What's next for you?
After I leave Stage Left at the end of May, I will be packing my bags for the sunny beaches of South Caroline (Myrtle Beach) and vacationing for a week and a half with my family. Then it will be back to the good ol' city of Chicago where I will be taking summer classes at Loyola University Chicago. This will only last through a portion of August, however, as I will be studying abroad in London, England for the fall semester of this year. If we really want to jump ahead of that, the road that is laid before me leads to the LSAT and law school.
You're the LeapFest stage manager. Many people may not know exactly what a stage manager does, so could you give us a quick job description?
Basically, a stage manager works closely with all of the members of the production team; directors, producers, actors, designers, and anyone else involved with the show. One of their main jobs is to organize all of the information passed around from all of the groups and make sure that the individuals that the information is meant for receive it. I also run the rehearsals, if a production requires it (because of LeapFest’s unique nature, I was not needed at the rehearsals and was brought in for tech). Tech is an extremely important time for a stage manager, as it is the culmination of all the designers work. The stage manager takes detailed notes pertaining to the Light and Sound Cues, specific visual cues, and any other technical aspects that pertain tithe performance (such as projectors in two of the LeapFest shows). Wit hall of the information gathered over the tech days, the stage manager gathers it all in his script book, and should be ready for the performances. In some cases, it is required of a stage manager to run the cues that he would normally be calling. With LeapFest, the light,sound, and projection cues are all run from the booth (in the Upper Stage Left Corner of the space), by myself. Sometimes there are other operators on the light and sound boards, and in those cases, the stage manager would do what is known as “calling” a show. This means that they would call the cue out loud so that the other operators know when to run them. In a nutshell, those are the basics of stage management. There is also the setting up before anyone arrives, making sure everyone has everything that they need, and shutting down/closing up the space after each use.
Tell us a little bit about your background and what drew you to stage management.
When I was in high school, I spent the majority of my time on the stage.I was fortunate enough to be in a class that was very theatrically inclined and during my sophomore year, we were able to start an All-School Musical each year. I performed roles which I will never have a chance to play again, like Adam/Noah from Children of Eden, Jean Valjean from Les Miserables, and the Beast from Beauty and the Beast. Although I love performing on stage (both singing and acting), I was drawn into the backstage aspects during my final year of high school. I stage managed a musical called Thoroughly Modern Millie and was in love ever since. I have always believed that I was a very organized person (sometimes to the extreme of OCD), and stage management allowed me to use those skills along with my ability to interact with people well. When I arrived at Loyola, I continued acting, but took up stage management as well and have been going at it ever since.
LeapFest consists of five different plays performed over three weeks. That's a daunting schedule. What drew you to this project, and what's the greatest challenge?
I first heard of Stage Left’s need for a stage manager through an email and met with Artistic Director Drew Martin soon after responding. After reading up on both Stage Left and LeapFest, I gained an incredible respect for the work that everyone puts into bringing these plays to the next level. Whenever you see a show, or work on an older piece, there is much more available for reference. Chances are, the lines are not going to be changed halfway through the rehearsal period, as I’m fairly sure that Eugene O’Neill or Tennessee Williams would not appreciate changes to the text. And even if there are changes, they will most likely be small, perhaps a word or phrase change. LeapFest offers the working space to improve a work in progress, making it performance ready. I had never worked on a new play proj challenge, although I wouldn’t call it a challenge is the shortness of my involvement with the shows. In the usual situation, the stage manager is in the production process from the very beginning, and in LeapFest, I was present starting at tech. This creates no major problems, but the connections that I would have usually made with a cast, production team,and director is cut short in this festival. Although I have enjoyed every moment working with everyone involved, it has been a short process.
From your perspective, how would you describe LeapFest?
Well, taking a little from the above section, LeapFest is exactly how it sounds, a festival dedicated to giving new plays that leap into the next step towards becoming a full production. One of the greatest things that I believe LeapFest offers is the Talk-Back session at the end of every show. Audience members give their perspective of the play, including what they did not understand, what could be clearer, etc. Through this,playwrights are able to see how their play affects a wide range of individuals, giving them a greater insight into their play. LeapFest offers the playwrights this unique chance.
What's next for you?
After I leave Stage Left at the end of May, I will be packing my bags for the sunny beaches of South Caroline (Myrtle Beach) and vacationing for a week and a half with my family. Then it will be back to the good ol' city of Chicago where I will be taking summer classes at Loyola University Chicago. This will only last through a portion of August, however, as I will be studying abroad in London, England for the fall semester of this year. If we really want to jump ahead of that, the road that is laid before me leads to the LSAT and law school.
What is a Hero?
An interview with David Alan Moore, Stage Left's Artistic Director, and author of Safe.
Of course, the “inciting event” in the play, the death of the man trapped in the burning building, is connected to an actual event that none of us can forget: the attacks of 9/11. A few years ago, many of the recordings of 911 calls made to emergency-services dispatchers by people trapped in the World Trade Center towers were released to the public. Out of what was probably morbid curiosity, I listened to a few of them. One recording, in particular, struck me with a wallop: a four-minute -- conversation? dialogue? scream? -- between a man and an operator that ended only when the tower he was in collapsed around him. Rumble. Click. Dial tone. Horror.
Of course, from there I began musing about the illusion of security in an unpredictable world, the nature of loss and, perhaps more obscurely (at least in the script), the question of “heroism.”
What is a hero? We hear about big, made-for-the-media acts of heroism every day, and such stories clearly fill a personal and societal need. But I often think that, for any sentient, conscious and self-aware being, merely getting through the day -- however you manage to get through the day -- is the biggest act of heroism of all. Knowing -- and not knowing -- what’s out there, yet finding a way to keep going, to have hope? Pretty impressive, if you ask me.
Please describe your LeapFest play, Safe, and tell us a little bit about the inspiration for it.
At a recent appearance in New York City, the writer Edna O’Brien was asked where she got the ideas for her stories. She said they’relike egg nog: she doesn’t know where they come from or what they’re made of. (Note: I was pleased that she didn’t compare her ideas to sausage, partly because everyone uses that analogy and partly because I prefer sausage over egg nog!)
At a recent appearance in New York City, the writer Edna O’Brien was asked where she got the ideas for her stories. She said they’relike egg nog: she doesn’t know where they come from or what they’re made of. (Note: I was pleased that she didn’t compare her ideas to sausage, partly because everyone uses that analogy and partly because I prefer sausage over egg nog!)
Of course, the “inciting event” in the play, the death of the man trapped in the burning building, is connected to an actual event that none of us can forget: the attacks of 9/11. A few years ago, many of the recordings of 911 calls made to emergency-services dispatchers by people trapped in the World Trade Center towers were released to the public. Out of what was probably morbid curiosity, I listened to a few of them. One recording, in particular, struck me with a wallop: a four-minute -- conversation? dialogue? scream? -- between a man and an operator that ended only when the tower he was in collapsed around him. Rumble. Click. Dial tone. Horror.
I realized that, in all the talk about the “heroes” of 9/11, very little mention had been made of the hundreds of emergency-services dispatchers who’d fielded thousands of calls from terrified victims, bystanders, and fire and police personnel. Who were these people? How did they cope with a tragedy of such monumental scale -- and how do they and their peers around the country cope with the less-massive but potentially, equally tragic calls they receive every day?
Of course, from there I began musing about the illusion of security in an unpredictable world, the nature of loss and, perhaps more obscurely (at least in the script), the question of “heroism.”
What is a hero? We hear about big, made-for-the-media acts of heroism every day, and such stories clearly fill a personal and societal need. But I often think that, for any sentient, conscious and self-aware being, merely getting through the day -- however you manage to get through the day -- is the biggest act of heroism of all. Knowing -- and not knowing -- what’s out there, yet finding a way to keep going, to have hope? Pretty impressive, if you ask me.
How has the play evolved during your participation in LeapFest?
To be honest (see my answer to the fourth question, below), this time around the play as written hasn’t evolved that much during the LeapFest process. That’s mostly circumstantial; past LeapFest plays (In Times of War and The Day of Knowledge) experienced major growth spurts during the rehearsals and between performances.
To be honest (see my answer to the fourth question, below), this time around the play as written hasn’t evolved that much during the LeapFest process. That’s mostly circumstantial; past LeapFest plays (In Times of War and The Day of Knowledge) experienced major growth spurts during the rehearsals and between performances.
I wish that weren’t the case this time -- and the cast, the crew and the director (Scott Bishop) of Safe are awesome, so this should in no way be seen as a knock against them or their contributions. They have leapt into the process with both feet -- their entire bodies, really.
However, at my end of the teeter-totter, most of the work during this year’s fest has been happening between my ears. Answering questions from the cast and director, seeing the show play out in front of me, experiencing it as part of an audience -- all of these things have helped open my eyes and ears to many of the strengths and flaws in the current draft, and will help inform the next rewrite. So at least one goal of LeapFest (helping the playwright craft the play) is definitely being fulfilled. And I think audiences are enjoying the show in its current iteration, too. It’s good to know that even a workshop production can have an effect on an audience, can be a satisfying theatrical experience.
However, at my end of the teeter-totter, most of the work during this year’s fest has been happening between my ears. Answering questions from the cast and director, seeing the show play out in front of me, experiencing it as part of an audience -- all of these things have helped open my eyes and ears to many of the strengths and flaws in the current draft, and will help inform the next rewrite. So at least one goal of LeapFest (helping the playwright craft the play) is definitely being fulfilled. And I think audiences are enjoying the show in its current iteration, too. It’s good to know that even a workshop production can have an effect on an audience, can be a satisfying theatrical experience.
What is your personal writing process, and what are the benefits or pitfalls of a workshop production for you?
I am very definitely not one of those playwrights who sits down to write for a predetermined amount of time or pages per day. Godspeed to those who can and do, especially if that process works for them. I’ve tried it, and it generally produces more guilt (when I fail to stick to a schedule) than good writing.
I am very definitely not one of those playwrights who sits down to write for a predetermined amount of time or pages per day. Godspeed to those who can and do, especially if that process works for them. I’ve tried it, and it generally produces more guilt (when I fail to stick to a schedule) than good writing.
My own process is a bit like baking bread. I rarely even begin writing a scene or a play until after the ideas, the characters, the action and the dialogue have been churning in my head for a good while -- months, sometimes. Like bread dough, I throw all the ingredients in, let the mess ferment and rise for a while, punch it back down, and repeat the process a few times, all in my head. Only after the loaf or play or scene has taken solid shape do I then commit it to paper (or computer). At that point, it’s like dictation -- the amount I get written at any given point is dependent upon how fast I can type.
That doesn’t mean that I only ever write final drafts. Nor does it mean that I don’t do experiments on paper. But what’s particularly great about the workshop process and a workshop production is that a play, meant to be staged, best reveals itself when it’s on its feet, when it’s in the hands of actors and directors and designers for their interpretations and explorations. Not all of my loaves are perfect when they come out of the oven -- some are like bricks, some are all air!
Do I write this way because it’s my nature, or do I write this way out of necessity? Possibly the latter: as a freelance writer by trade for the better part of 15 years, I spend much of every day parked in front of my computer, writing. Because my clients don’t have the time or the budget for me to write multiple drafts, my first drafts (for my clients) need to be of third-draft quality. So, in contrast to what I said before, I guess I do write every day. It’s just that what I write generally doesn’t make an appearance on the page until it’s been written and re-written in my head several times.
You are also Stage Left's Interim Co-Artistic Director, so you are wearing many hats. How has that impacted your involvement as a writer, and have you learned anything valuable through seeing the process from that perspective?
On the downside, being Interim Co-Artistic Director has had a definite, negative impact on the amount of time I have had available to write, both of the “in my head” sort and the “on paper” sort, as described above. Helping run a theater and managing an ensemble of two dozen very diverse artists is a huge job for anyone (or two), especially when it isn’t offset by a concomitant reduction in other professional and personal commitments. Oh, the deadlines I’ve missed! The friends I’ve ignored! Get out the violins...!
(And kudos to Laura Blegen and Drew Martin for helping me keep at least a modicum of balance.)
On the downside, being Interim Co-Artistic Director has had a definite, negative impact on the amount of time I have had available to write, both of the “in my head” sort and the “on paper” sort, as described above. Helping run a theater and managing an ensemble of two dozen very diverse artists is a huge job for anyone (or two), especially when it isn’t offset by a concomitant reduction in other professional and personal commitments. Oh, the deadlines I’ve missed! The friends I’ve ignored! Get out the violins...!
(And kudos to Laura Blegen and Drew Martin for helping me keep at least a modicum of balance.)
On the upside, you learn a heck of a lot about the theater -- the industry, the business, the artists, the audiences, the collaborations, the conflicts of interest, and the joys of creating art on a larger scale -- when you’re in the thick of producing one season and planning for the next for an entire company.
A separate but related thought: I have always been of the opinion that art comes first, practicality second. That is part and parcel of my broader worldview and is unlikely to change (much to the chagrin of certain people close to me who feel I’m more grasshopper than ant). So it has been an eye-opening experience to see the other side of this chicken-or-egg question: how do you sustain artists and the process of creating and sharing art, especially in an economy and an era that are so anti-art? My own response, at the end of this year, is to refocus on my writing, because that’s what sustains me.
For whatever reason, I am driven to write. I am not driven to be an impresario or someone with a title after his name. Nor am I driven to fix what I see as some pretty major flaws in the way we produce theater in this country. I’ll happily share my opinions (elsewhere, if asked!) and will applaud the individual with the the focus and the energy to right the wrongs of the industry -- but I am not that person, I’ve discovered.
Most of my own energy will go into my writing because I cannot help myself. Further, I’m a firm believer that even if a sculpture is locked in a room, it is still a sculpture. A tree falling in a forest, unobserved, still makes a sound. Whether it’s a piece of furniture I’ve designed and built with my own hands, or a play I’ve written, that’s what excites me: the created thing itself. There it is. See?
Of course, I’m also drawn to the Buddhist idea of impermanence. I wear a bracelet of tiny skulls around my wrist to remind me that everything changes. Likewise, when it comes to my writing, that play, that thing I created, I also don’t worry too much about its future. Yes, what happens to it afterward is my concern, but it’s not my worry. Like a mandala made of colored sand, it’s beautiful -- and then along comes the wind. Will thousands of people see my play? Lovely! Will it be appreciated by an audience of one? Equally lovely -- and equally out of (and in) my control.
Of course, I’m also drawn to the Buddhist idea of impermanence. I wear a bracelet of tiny skulls around my wrist to remind me that everything changes. Likewise, when it comes to my writing, that play, that thing I created, I also don’t worry too much about its future. Yes, what happens to it afterward is my concern, but it’s not my worry. Like a mandala made of colored sand, it’s beautiful -- and then along comes the wind. Will thousands of people see my play? Lovely! Will it be appreciated by an audience of one? Equally lovely -- and equally out of (and in) my control.
You can see the final LeapFest performance of Safe today, May 30th, at 7:30pm.
Antigone & Torture
An interview with Jessica Cluess, author of Anna is Saved.
Please tell us a little bit about yourself and your writing
I grew up
in Los Angeles, but I had to leave because it just wasn’t cold enough. I went to Northwestern University, really enjoyed it, and stayed on in Chicago. As for my writing, I’d say it comes out of performance. I’ve had substantially more professional training as an actor than as a writer, so how a sentence feels in a person’s mouth, whether it flows or not, is always a priority for me. I’ve performed my own work and enjoy it. In high school I was something of a monologist and I did a lot of comedic work, which made it strange when I came to college and just started doing drama after drama. I suppose it’s all changed the way I write; I like a balance of comedy and drama in my stories.
Describe your play Anna is Saved and the inspiration for it.
Anna is Saved came out of my feelings about the play ‘Antigone.’ I’ve had a lot of experience with that play. I studied it in class, and I was in a very avant garde production of it. (The central motif was a can of Coke.) Everybody was going on about what a hero Antigone was, and I just couldn’t get over the fact that she scorned her sister, her last remaining relative, and told her to get lost because she needed to be a glorious martyr. Some will beg to differ with my interpretation, but I think she’s more complex and unlikable than some may believe. So there was that, and then I thought about an experience in high school where some girls were going to a rally at UCLA to protest the war. When I talked to them about it, they revealed that they were doing it because it was an excuse to cut class and dress up in their parents’ vintage hippie clothes, and sort of ‘live out the 60s.’ So I had a classic figure, someone with whom I wanted to experiment, and the image of youth protesting and shouting, not because they want to change the world, but because they want to be important or get noticed. Then you throw in torture policies in the Bush years, and I was all set.
What is your writing process like?
My writing process changes all the time. Sometimes it’s the classic ‘go to cafes with a notebook and work’ thing, sometimes I just sit down and outline on my computer, and sometimes I actually grab my tape recorder and sort of act it out, try out dialogue, see if it feels right in my mouth. The tape recorder part can kind of worry the people who live with me. There can be a little shouting with that one. I try to do that one when no one’s home to be bothered. Otherwise it just looks insane.
How has your play changed through its involvement in LeapFest?
By the time the play got to Leapfest, it’d been through three workshop processes. I wrote it in a class my senior year of college, a student group performed it as part of a new play festival, and then Stage Left took it for their Down Stage Left workshop program last winter. So when it got here, its bones were already pretty clearly built. Because the basic foundation was laid, (and because, at an hour, it’s pretty damn short), we were able to delve deeper into character; why do they do what they do, what do they really want, if they have a change of heart does it make sense. The character of Baumer, the General’s right hand man, got a complete overhaul. He started off as this fat, slovenly fifty something who had no real experience in anything, and he turned into this rough and ready young man who was an accomplished soldier. It made the play so much better. On top of that, we changed dialogue, added and subtracted monologues, and just tightened as much as we could. What I love about the Leapfest process is how it is such a bridge between a reading and a production; Anna is Saved is, in many senses, a very physical play, and actually seeing the violence and physical comedy makes SUCH a difference to an audience. It makes it funnier, and also more terrifying.
Writing comedy is notoriously difficult. Do you find the workshop process more or less valuable in working on comedy?
I think whether or not comedy works onstage comes right down to the acting. Granted, writing and directing are a huge factor, but if the actors don’t get it, no one else will. I knew the workshop process would only be helpful if the actors got the comedy, and luckily they did. The play has five actors, and they all had different levels of comedic experience, but they all delivered. The workshop was lots of fun because the actors all brought their own ideas and funny moments to the table, and a lot of it worked and stayed in. Plus, ‘Anna is Saved’ isn’t exactly a riotous farce from start to finish. It starts off very funny, and then slowly it becomes not…funny…at all. The actors were very adept at handling the transition. They’re pretty fantastic all around.
What's next for you?
I’m currently working on a one-woman show called ‘What If He Dies, And We’re Still In Texas?’ detailing my life on the road in a traveling children’s theatre troupe, and I’ve got a few other things I’m working on. But I’m twenty-four. I’ll take whatever you’ve got!
Please tell us a little bit about yourself and your writing
I grew up
in Los Angeles, but I had to leave because it just wasn’t cold enough. I went to Northwestern University, really enjoyed it, and stayed on in Chicago. As for my writing, I’d say it comes out of performance. I’ve had substantially more professional training as an actor than as a writer, so how a sentence feels in a person’s mouth, whether it flows or not, is always a priority for me. I’ve performed my own work and enjoy it. In high school I was something of a monologist and I did a lot of comedic work, which made it strange when I came to college and just started doing drama after drama. I suppose it’s all changed the way I write; I like a balance of comedy and drama in my stories.Describe your play Anna is Saved and the inspiration for it.
Anna is Saved came out of my feelings about the play ‘Antigone.’ I’ve had a lot of experience with that play. I studied it in class, and I was in a very avant garde production of it. (The central motif was a can of Coke.) Everybody was going on about what a hero Antigone was, and I just couldn’t get over the fact that she scorned her sister, her last remaining relative, and told her to get lost because she needed to be a glorious martyr. Some will beg to differ with my interpretation, but I think she’s more complex and unlikable than some may believe. So there was that, and then I thought about an experience in high school where some girls were going to a rally at UCLA to protest the war. When I talked to them about it, they revealed that they were doing it because it was an excuse to cut class and dress up in their parents’ vintage hippie clothes, and sort of ‘live out the 60s.’ So I had a classic figure, someone with whom I wanted to experiment, and the image of youth protesting and shouting, not because they want to change the world, but because they want to be important or get noticed. Then you throw in torture policies in the Bush years, and I was all set.
What is your writing process like?
My writing process changes all the time. Sometimes it’s the classic ‘go to cafes with a notebook and work’ thing, sometimes I just sit down and outline on my computer, and sometimes I actually grab my tape recorder and sort of act it out, try out dialogue, see if it feels right in my mouth. The tape recorder part can kind of worry the people who live with me. There can be a little shouting with that one. I try to do that one when no one’s home to be bothered. Otherwise it just looks insane.
How has your play changed through its involvement in LeapFest?
By the time the play got to Leapfest, it’d been through three workshop processes. I wrote it in a class my senior year of college, a student group performed it as part of a new play festival, and then Stage Left took it for their Down Stage Left workshop program last winter. So when it got here, its bones were already pretty clearly built. Because the basic foundation was laid, (and because, at an hour, it’s pretty damn short), we were able to delve deeper into character; why do they do what they do, what do they really want, if they have a change of heart does it make sense. The character of Baumer, the General’s right hand man, got a complete overhaul. He started off as this fat, slovenly fifty something who had no real experience in anything, and he turned into this rough and ready young man who was an accomplished soldier. It made the play so much better. On top of that, we changed dialogue, added and subtracted monologues, and just tightened as much as we could. What I love about the Leapfest process is how it is such a bridge between a reading and a production; Anna is Saved is, in many senses, a very physical play, and actually seeing the violence and physical comedy makes SUCH a difference to an audience. It makes it funnier, and also more terrifying.
Writing comedy is notoriously difficult. Do you find the workshop process more or less valuable in working on comedy?
I think whether or not comedy works onstage comes right down to the acting. Granted, writing and directing are a huge factor, but if the actors don’t get it, no one else will. I knew the workshop process would only be helpful if the actors got the comedy, and luckily they did. The play has five actors, and they all had different levels of comedic experience, but they all delivered. The workshop was lots of fun because the actors all brought their own ideas and funny moments to the table, and a lot of it worked and stayed in. Plus, ‘Anna is Saved’ isn’t exactly a riotous farce from start to finish. It starts off very funny, and then slowly it becomes not…funny…at all. The actors were very adept at handling the transition. They’re pretty fantastic all around.
What's next for you?
I’m currently working on a one-woman show called ‘What If He Dies, And We’re Still In Texas?’ detailing my life on the road in a traveling children’s theatre troupe, and I’ve got a few other things I’m working on. But I’m twenty-four. I’ll take whatever you’ve got!
You can see Anna is Saved on May 27 at 7:30pm.
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Men & Guns: An Interview with Kingsville Playwright Andrew Hinderaker
Andrew Hinderaker, author of Kingsville, discusses masculinity, school shootings, and the inspiration for his plays.Please tell us a little bit about yourself and your writing.
My writing... hmm... well lately it seems to be focused pretty squarely on masculinity. In the piece before Kingsville, I tried to explore why there's such a drastically high rate of suicide among men (and college aged men in particular). In Kingsville, I hit on masculinity even more overtly while taking a look at gun violence and rampage school shootings.
My writing... hmm... well lately it seems to be focused pretty squarely on masculinity. In the piece before Kingsville, I tried to explore why there's such a drastically high rate of suicide among men (and college aged men in particular). In Kingsville, I hit on masculinity even more overtly while taking a look at gun violence and rampage school shootings.
I don't know if it's a by-product of political correctness, but it seems like we're hesitant to explore some of these topics from a gendered lens. And it's like, hello, 80% of suicides are completed by men, and 100% of the rampage school shooters are male. And yet we keep responding to these tragedies with the same constricted view of masculinity that helped give rise to them.
As you can tell, I can get kind a little worked up about this topic. Which, I suppose, is why I write about it.
Describe your play Kingsville and its inspiration.
I was in Savannah, Georgia at the time of the Virginia Tech shooting. I was in a rental car, and I started to listen to radio call-in shows. Every caller I heard insisted the tragedy would have been averted if the other students had been armed.
Describe your play Kingsville and its inspiration.
I was in Savannah, Georgia at the time of the Virginia Tech shooting. I was in a rental car, and I started to listen to radio call-in shows. Every caller I heard insisted the tragedy would have been averted if the other students had been armed.
It's hard to describe how I felt sitting there in the car. Except to say I think we all have moments where the ground shifts beneath our feet, and the things we believed to be certain are cast into doubt. For me, those moments of utter confusion, where I feel like my own neighbors speak a different language, are moments which usually trigger the start of a play. So I figured, all right, let's have a world where all the students are armed, and let's see what happens.
What is your writing process and how does the workshop process factor into it?
My process varies from project to project. For this project, I wrote the first two scenes, then quickly realized I needed to do a whole lot more research. So I spent the next few months researching school shootings, gun violence, and masculinity. Then I wrote the first draft, which was a big hot mess, as my first drafts often are.
My process varies from project to project. For this project, I wrote the first two scenes, then quickly realized I needed to do a whole lot more research. So I spent the next few months researching school shootings, gun violence, and masculinity. Then I wrote the first draft, which was a big hot mess, as my first drafts often are.
I generally need time off between each draft to get some distance from the material. So I worked on another play for a month, then came back to Kingsville, and wrote a second draft. I did the same thing for the third. After the third or fourth, Stage Left helped me throw together a table reading, and we did another table reading after a subsequent draft.
So I entered the LeapFest process with a fifth or sixth draft of the play. This was a pretty ideal time for me, because I knew the overarching structure was sound, but that some of the scenes needed major work. Meg (McCarthy, the director) was able to set a rehearsal schedule that really allowed me to explore those scenes.
How has the play changed during LeapFest?
I've made edits to every scene in the play, and completely overhauled the two biggest scenes. I was also able to work with Meg and Cat Dean to flesh out the character of Audrey. As the lone female in a very male world, I wanted to be sure that she didn't fall so far on the outskirts that she seemed like some sort of device.
What was your greatest challenge in writing this play?
Honestly, probably feeling like I deserved to write the play. At the risk of sounding self-indulgent, I want to always feel like I'm the best person in the world to write whatever play I'm writing. Seeing as I don't have personal ties to school shootings, I definitely had moments early on where I wondered, "Who am I to write this play?" And you just simply don't approach a topic like school shootings without deep sensitivity and respect for those who've been affected. You just don't.
Once I realized that the play was less about school shootings, and more about masculinity, I felt like I was offering a different viewpoint than I'd heard, and one which ultimately paid respect to those who have been affected. And since I have strong personal ties to the research on masculinity that's presented in the play, I felt like I was well positioned to write the piece.
Beyond that initial hurdle, there were a number of challenges with this play. It's probably the most ambitious thing I've written, both in terms of structure and character - the people in this play make very bold decisions. And no question it was invaluable having the actors' feedback throughout the rehearsal process.
Beyond that initial hurdle, there were a number of challenges with this play. It's probably the most ambitious thing I've written, both in terms of structure and character - the people in this play make very bold decisions. And no question it was invaluable having the actors' feedback throughout the rehearsal process.
What's next for you?
Well... after back-to-back plays about suicide and school shootings, I decided it was time for a comedy. I wrote the first draft of a play entitled, I Am Going to Change the World, right before we went into rehearsals for LeapFest, and we had a reading of the play in April in New York that was really encouraging. So starting next week, I'll get to work on a second draft, and we'll do a staged reading of the piece in Chicago this summer.
The final LeapFest performance of Kingsville will be Thursday, May 28th at 7:30 pm.
The Ghost as Yogi: A Few Words with Actor Callie Munson
Callie Munson, who is part of the "ghost chorus" in Hungry Ghosts, discusses LeapFeast, the acting process, and yoga.You've been involved with Hungry Ghosts since the earliest stages. How have you seen it change over time, and what is it like to be involved with a project as it evolves like that?
Well, I was initially called in to read for a character who is no longer part of the story, but was lucky enough to be asked to hang around as a ghost. It's been a treat to be a part of this process. Haha, I remember when Margaret [the playwright] walked in with just a concept and a handful of lines... look where it is now! Every workshop/reading has surprising new additions, so it's always thrilling to see what Margaret has put in or taken away.
Can you describe the character you play?
It's funny because each ghost is forming their own personality and it will be different every time the play is produced because the characteristics are so dependent on how the cast clicks. We play multiple characters through-out the play, but have to find a way to come back to the "ghost" personality in between scenes. I go from an 8 year-old girl to a 70 year-old woman. It's Great! Traditional theatre would never allow me to play these extremes (especially being 5'10).
How do you manage to play so many different characters and give each one a unique voice?
It's all about letting go and having fun. It's a show where the actor has to be willing to play and not worry about looking stupid or going too big (someone once described talent as "the ability of the actor to fully invest in their imagination", that is my goal). But, you can't create caricature because the stories are so so important and from real people. If that happens, hopefully, the director will pull you back. I am a very physical actor, so just changing my walk can help inform a character. The voices come from the questions "What would these people sound like? Where in my range does this feel comfortable?" All of this happens in a matter of moments.
Your performance in the "Tea & Boiled Potatoes" section of the play is very moving and emotionally true. How do you manage to have that emotional journey when the character is present for a short section?
First off, thank you! That is so nice of you to say! It's all about the words. If it is well written, the wods will take you there and it's easy. And Margaret has made it so easy (though there are LOTS of words). Sometimes, I think about either one of my Grandmothers, and how important it is for them to take care of their families. Family meals were always big in my southern upbringing. And then, I go to, what it would be like to feel the loss of an empty table. If all my family went away. Loneliness, to me at least, is scary. It's something everyone battles with and we have to learn how to be comfortable with silence. Throughout the scene she is talking about the loss of all her children and then her husband, and finds herself in an empty house. Strength allows her to take a big step and move on, by buying a new house. Then the ghosts come. One of my favorite movies is Pan's Labyrinth because it explores the ability to befriend the dark sides of the human psyche during times of war. And I think about the movie during the scene because the Lonely Mother finds that comfort with her new found guests. I could write an essay about this scene!
Well, I was initially called in to read for a character who is no longer part of the story, but was lucky enough to be asked to hang around as a ghost. It's been a treat to be a part of this process. Haha, I remember when Margaret [the playwright] walked in with just a concept and a handful of lines... look where it is now! Every workshop/reading has surprising new additions, so it's always thrilling to see what Margaret has put in or taken away.
Can you describe the character you play?
It's funny because each ghost is forming their own personality and it will be different every time the play is produced because the characteristics are so dependent on how the cast clicks. We play multiple characters through-out the play, but have to find a way to come back to the "ghost" personality in between scenes. I go from an 8 year-old girl to a 70 year-old woman. It's Great! Traditional theatre would never allow me to play these extremes (especially being 5'10).
How do you manage to play so many different characters and give each one a unique voice?
It's all about letting go and having fun. It's a show where the actor has to be willing to play and not worry about looking stupid or going too big (someone once described talent as "the ability of the actor to fully invest in their imagination", that is my goal). But, you can't create caricature because the stories are so so important and from real people. If that happens, hopefully, the director will pull you back. I am a very physical actor, so just changing my walk can help inform a character. The voices come from the questions "What would these people sound like? Where in my range does this feel comfortable?" All of this happens in a matter of moments.
Your performance in the "Tea & Boiled Potatoes" section of the play is very moving and emotionally true. How do you manage to have that emotional journey when the character is present for a short section?
First off, thank you! That is so nice of you to say! It's all about the words. If it is well written, the wods will take you there and it's easy. And Margaret has made it so easy (though there are LOTS of words). Sometimes, I think about either one of my Grandmothers, and how important it is for them to take care of their families. Family meals were always big in my southern upbringing. And then, I go to, what it would be like to feel the loss of an empty table. If all my family went away. Loneliness, to me at least, is scary. It's something everyone battles with and we have to learn how to be comfortable with silence. Throughout the scene she is talking about the loss of all her children and then her husband, and finds herself in an empty house. Strength allows her to take a big step and move on, by buying a new house. Then the ghosts come. One of my favorite movies is Pan's Labyrinth because it explores the ability to befriend the dark sides of the human psyche during times of war. And I think about the movie during the scene because the Lonely Mother finds that comfort with her new found guests. I could write an essay about this scene!
This play is an ensemble-based piece. Can you talk about how that affects your process and performance?
I LOVE our cast! We have such a crazy energy and can bounce all over the place.The past couple performances have had dance parties in the dressing room before show time. I have formed some amazing friendships. We are such a diverse group of people, and all have something completely different to bring to the piece and when we get out on stage, it's 110% trust, and that doesn't always happen. We have formed a family, which is really important for the play.
This is a very short run, only three performances. How does that influence your process and your relationship to the play?
Honestly, I do wish there was more time to work on this play. It is SUCH an ensemble driven piece and so much about it relies on pacing, that it's hard to work on it outside of the rehearsal room.Impossible at points. You have to see it to fully understand some of the complexities. When they work, it's a fantastic cacophony of layered voices, but if the pacing goes off just slightly, it can throw the whole scene. These things you can drill and work hard on with a 3 week rehearsal process. That being said, we have to let go and just do it. Trust in your own instinct is heightened, because so many new discoveries are happening in front of a full house!
You're
also a full-time yoga instructor. Do you think that your yoga and meditation practice influence your acting process?
Oh, that's that whole reason I was drawn to yoga as a "day job". I have always loved it. Like I said earlier, I am a very physical actor and yoga allows me to tap into every inch of my body. Allowing me to understand it, acknowledge my limits and how to push past them. Because of the practice, it's easier to mold my body into other people and get through a 2 hour play with lots of energy left. It's also an active meditation. Funny, I've recently noticed that my acting suffers if I don't keep up with my yoga practice. So much time is spent getting lost in a character, giving to your partners, that getting back to the mat allows me to breath, get out any and all anxiety about the current project and just let go. I teach and work at a studio called Yoga Now in the Gold Coast and they are super understanding of the actor's schedule, which is also nice (takes some stress off). A yoga studio constantly has traffic of people who are willing to open up about their lives, and I file away those cast of characters, and pull them out when needed in the rehearsal room.
Finally, for you, what is this play about?
This play is about the people of war. It's not a black and white subject; there are people, REAL human beings involved and this play allows their stories to be told. In college, I spent a semester in Japan, studying the psychological effects of the Atomic Bombs on Japanese society. We met dozens of survivors and their descendants, listening to their stories, walking on the soil where the bombs landed (though they were programed to go off before they hit the ground for maximum impact, but I digress), which made it almost tangible for us. That is what Hungry Ghosts does, allows the voices of war to be heard in a society that is detached from the day to day experience.
also a full-time yoga instructor. Do you think that your yoga and meditation practice influence your acting process?Oh, that's that whole reason I was drawn to yoga as a "day job". I have always loved it. Like I said earlier, I am a very physical actor and yoga allows me to tap into every inch of my body. Allowing me to understand it, acknowledge my limits and how to push past them. Because of the practice, it's easier to mold my body into other people and get through a 2 hour play with lots of energy left. It's also an active meditation. Funny, I've recently noticed that my acting suffers if I don't keep up with my yoga practice. So much time is spent getting lost in a character, giving to your partners, that getting back to the mat allows me to breath, get out any and all anxiety about the current project and just let go. I teach and work at a studio called Yoga Now in the Gold Coast and they are super understanding of the actor's schedule, which is also nice (takes some stress off). A yoga studio constantly has traffic of people who are willing to open up about their lives, and I file away those cast of characters, and pull them out when needed in the rehearsal room.
Finally, for you, what is this play about?
This play is about the people of war. It's not a black and white subject; there are people, REAL human beings involved and this play allows their stories to be told. In college, I spent a semester in Japan, studying the psychological effects of the Atomic Bombs on Japanese society. We met dozens of survivors and their descendants, listening to their stories, walking on the soil where the bombs landed (though they were programed to go off before they hit the ground for maximum impact, but I digress), which made it almost tangible for us. That is what Hungry Ghosts does, allows the voices of war to be heard in a society that is detached from the day to day experience.
Sunday, May 24, 2009
Kind Strangers & Delicious Haints
Karla Jennings, playwright of The Ruby Vector, came in from Georgia to see her play in LeapFest. Here she describes the experience.
When a reading goes well it's a rush, especially if you meet lots of theater people an
d hit it off and leave feeling encouraged about your craft. Just being alone in a theater can flip on the writing synapses; invisible people surround you, living their lives in front of you, waiting for you to write them down and make them real.
The LeapFest trip was like that. All fronts were in high gear, from weather front to stage front. Even when I forgot my credit card and cash in my jogging socks back at the hotel, it was groovy; the cast and directors graciously fed me, beered me, and gave me a lift back. In the theater world, you can always depend on the kindness of strangers (except for the nut cases).
A staged reading serves two purposes: as a calling card for that play, so you invite dozens of directors, hoping that one or two will show up; and as an opportunity for the writer to examine her work as a thing in itself rather than a part of herself. This, one hopes, gives her the objectivity to improve it.
It's hard to shake a play out of your head, to be objective. The playwright's lack of perspective explains the slightly panicked look you might get when you ask someone to describe his or her play. Their inner voice is shrieking, "I've created a world, how can I sum it up when I'm swimming in its oceans? How can I encapsulate this small universe when I'm immersed in it?"
Ruby Vector already had three workshops, so at this point I was pretty sure its world was complete and any changes would bloat it into over-explanation or hammer dead the raw sparks that make it come alive. But at the first reading, before I came to town, someone noted that Act One felt like it ended in the penultimate scene, but then the stage lights go back up and you spend another damn five minutes watching the characters do their thing. Personally, I hate it when that happens. Even if I like the play, when I think intermission's here I'm eager to bolt to the loo or toddle in circles around the lobby or something. It makes me impatient when, like a Beethoven symphony, the ending just goes on and on.
So, we tossed the final Act One scene into the beginning of Act Two. That's better, I thought, but that's it. There's nothing left to improve.
However, shortly into the reading I attended, I thought, "What the hell's that line doing there? It's not necessary." Later, "Gee, that sounds beautiful but it doesn't move the plot, it's got to go." Then, "That line would rock if I rephrased it like this," then, "He's got to be stronger about his motivation here." On and on for five pages of notes, plus useful audience and directorial observations which, once they're pointed out, are kind of embarrassing in their obviousness.
So it's back to the drawing board for a (inshallah) final rewrite. Wish I could see the last performance -- it should be leaner, meaner, brighter, deeper. The LeapFest experience got me thinking of other plays I'm either writing or want to write -- potential scenes, lines of dialogue, plot developments. When I returned to my family my brain was buzzing with stuff I want to work on undistracted, alone. If I could choose between joining my girls and husband now or spending a week writing in a quiet mountain cabin, the choice would be obvious. I love my family, but inspiration fades fast. My peeps will be there, flopping around in my shoes, braiding my hair, and watching TV with the sound blasting, long after the invisible people who so deliciously haunt me have faded away.
When a reading goes well it's a rush, especially if you meet lots of theater people an
d hit it off and leave feeling encouraged about your craft. Just being alone in a theater can flip on the writing synapses; invisible people surround you, living their lives in front of you, waiting for you to write them down and make them real.The LeapFest trip was like that. All fronts were in high gear, from weather front to stage front. Even when I forgot my credit card and cash in my jogging socks back at the hotel, it was groovy; the cast and directors graciously fed me, beered me, and gave me a lift back. In the theater world, you can always depend on the kindness of strangers (except for the nut cases).
A staged reading serves two purposes: as a calling card for that play, so you invite dozens of directors, hoping that one or two will show up; and as an opportunity for the writer to examine her work as a thing in itself rather than a part of herself. This, one hopes, gives her the objectivity to improve it.
It's hard to shake a play out of your head, to be objective. The playwright's lack of perspective explains the slightly panicked look you might get when you ask someone to describe his or her play. Their inner voice is shrieking, "I've created a world, how can I sum it up when I'm swimming in its oceans? How can I encapsulate this small universe when I'm immersed in it?"
Ruby Vector already had three workshops, so at this point I was pretty sure its world was complete and any changes would bloat it into over-explanation or hammer dead the raw sparks that make it come alive. But at the first reading, before I came to town, someone noted that Act One felt like it ended in the penultimate scene, but then the stage lights go back up and you spend another damn five minutes watching the characters do their thing. Personally, I hate it when that happens. Even if I like the play, when I think intermission's here I'm eager to bolt to the loo or toddle in circles around the lobby or something. It makes me impatient when, like a Beethoven symphony, the ending just goes on and on.
So, we tossed the final Act One scene into the beginning of Act Two. That's better, I thought, but that's it. There's nothing left to improve.
However, shortly into the reading I attended, I thought, "What the hell's that line doing there? It's not necessary." Later, "Gee, that sounds beautiful but it doesn't move the plot, it's got to go." Then, "That line would rock if I rephrased it like this," then, "He's got to be stronger about his motivation here." On and on for five pages of notes, plus useful audience and directorial observations which, once they're pointed out, are kind of embarrassing in their obviousness.
So it's back to the drawing board for a (inshallah) final rewrite. Wish I could see the last performance -- it should be leaner, meaner, brighter, deeper. The LeapFest experience got me thinking of other plays I'm either writing or want to write -- potential scenes, lines of dialogue, plot developments. When I returned to my family my brain was buzzing with stuff I want to work on undistracted, alone. If I could choose between joining my girls and husband now or spending a week writing in a quiet mountain cabin, the choice would be obvious. I love my family, but inspiration fades fast. My peeps will be there, flopping around in my shoes, braiding my hair, and watching TV with the sound blasting, long after the invisible people who so deliciously haunt me have faded away.
Your final chance to see The Ruby Vector is May 30th at 2:00pm. Don't miss it or the other wonderful plays in LeapFest.
Saturday, May 23, 2009
Her Own Worst Critic: A Few Words with Actor Soo Jin Park
Soo Jin Park, who plays Isabelle in Hungry Ghosts, answers some questions about her process. Questions are in bold, and a few editorial comments are in green.
This is the 4th time you've participated in a reading of Hungry Ghosts. What is it like being involved with a project over such a span of time, and how have you seen the play change in that time?
The play has changed SO much since the very first reading! I remember the very first reading in its initial incarnation. It was a totally different play altogether. And then I believe the playwright (M.E.H. “Margaret” Lewis) scrapped most of it (which is a very brave and VERY difficult thing for any writer to do) and kept the most essential elements and re-worked the play with some new research. Pretty brilliant, in my opinion. But I mean, I could write a 20 page thesis on this topic and NOBODY wants to read MY long-winded analysis!
In any case, over the course of time, Margaret would come into every rehearsal and reading with new material. And we and the directors would get to work on them. Every reading got closer to the full play and every reading the characters would get defined a little more. And the LeapFest production is what we have now! Knowing Margaret, she already has new material and is just being understanding of the needs and limitations of the actors. Needless to say, I have something of a girl crush on her. [right back at you, girl!] Two words in her future: restraining. order.
In a festival like LeapFest, the plays are done with very little rehearsal time and few resources. As an actor, how do you think that influences your process and your experience of the play?
Rehearsal time! There’s never enough! J So I guess the challenges lay in finding ways to make most of the time, which is different with every show.
As for resources, coming from a small theatre and independent film background, I have learned that few resources don’t necessarily have to take away from the emotional effectiveness of many contemporary pieces. It can be a challenge, sure, but nothing that can not be overcome by the creativity of cast and crew.
As an actor, you learn to contribute to this “lack” by filling the space with the use of physicality and trying to be as honest as you can as the character. I believe that the audience is usually an intelligent one and they’re able to fill the holes of whatever set or props might be missing as long as the performers can fill the space with the emotional experience.
How do you prepare for a performance?
Going over lines, stretches, trying not to throw up backstage, mouth exercises, clearing myself of the experiences of the day and putting myself into emotional neutral – the usual boring actor stuff. If the discoveries were made in the rehearsals, it usually will come during the performance. And if you’re loose enough, you’ll find more during performance.
Listen to me, getting all Field of Dreams! Just call me Kevin Costner.
How do you feel when the run of a play is over?
There are definitely feelings of withdrawal and with those come the symptoms. Usually, for a week or so after the play has closed, I’ll be wandering the streets at night and crying myself to sleep during the days. It can get pretty ugly...
I am my own worst critic. The wonderful thing about acting in a play is the constant discoveries you make in all the moments that should seamlessly move into the next. When you’re in the place to find those, then its actor heaven. I don’t know if it’s been scientifically proven but I personally think every time an actor makes a discovery, their body shoots up with some crazy endorphins. And man, do I miss those when it’s over. Then I continue to think about what I could’ve done differently in one scene and then another and then another. And I kick myself for not having seen it earlier. I guess I’m slightly masochistic.
The cast of Hungry Ghosts seems particularly close-knit. Why do you think that is, and has it influenced the performances in any way?
I’ve recently discovered that the cast IS trying to kill the playwright (M.E.H Lewis). [I knew it!]But the playwright seems to enjoy it so people can take what they want from that. My theory is that it’s all the overlapping dialogue that’s making them crazy. I’ve suggested a million times to the director (Laura Blegen) that we NEED to put Percocet in everyone’s water halfway into the second act, but nobody wants to listen to the LOWLY ACTOR. Nobody…and I am NOT trying to sabotage the other actors’ performances to make myself look good. Really.
You play the part of Isabelle, a woman who has kept terrible secrets most of her life. Can you describe the character and what it's like to play her? Does it take an emotional toll on you?
Playing the part of Isabelle has actually taught me a lot about acting. She’s a beautiful character. Her story is not unlike my grandparents’ story so it was something I was very familiar with – the efforts to retain dignity after having been an unwilling participant of a past that can only described as madness, the humanity we try to come to terms with after having, in desperation, done something that haunts us every day. Heartbreaking situations that still occur for many to this very day.
The emotional parts are always challenging. I remember when playing an intense part, I would try to get all “Method” and work myself into a frenzy. When I did this, one of two things would happen, a.) I would fail miserably or b.) there would be a bit too much hysteria for my well-being. Definitely not healthy.
Then one rehearsal or performance (and it was for Hungry Ghosts), I remember, I was in neutral as far as my “feelings” were concerned and THAT scene came up, the emotionally devastating one. And I don’t know what happened but something just clicked in my head. I realized that people who are extremely emotional usually are trying to hold them back. But they can’t. The emotions are in the words, the words of any great playwright and they’ll come if I try to hold them back. It’s weird. It might have something to do with the frustration anyone feels when they feel they are forced into something, from something. In any case, it’s been working and I don’t have to be an emotional basket case in my personal life to do it.
For you, what is this play about?
You can’t always get what you want.
You can’t always get what you want.
But if you try sometime you just might find,
You just might find,
You get what you need!
Sounds simple, but god, is it ever hard to come to terms with that.
The play has changed SO much since the very first reading! I remember the very first reading in its initial incarnation. It was a totally different play altogether. And then I believe the playwright (M.E.H. “Margaret” Lewis) scrapped most of it (which is a very brave and VERY difficult thing for any writer to do) and kept the most essential elements and re-worked the play with some new research. Pretty brilliant, in my opinion. But I mean, I could write a 20 page thesis on this topic and NOBODY wants to read MY long-winded analysis!
In any case, over the course of time, Margaret would come into every rehearsal and reading with new material. And we and the directors would get to work on them. Every reading got closer to the full play and every reading the characters would get defined a little more. And the LeapFest production is what we have now! Knowing Margaret, she already has new material and is just being understanding of the needs and limitations of the actors. Needless to say, I have something of a girl crush on her. [right back at you, girl!] Two words in her future: restraining. order.
In a festival like LeapFest, the plays are done with very little rehearsal time and few resources. As an actor, how do you think that influences your process and your experience of the play?
Rehearsal time! There’s never enough! J So I guess the challenges lay in finding ways to make most of the time, which is different with every show.
As for resources, coming from a small theatre and independent film background, I have learned that few resources don’t necessarily have to take away from the emotional effectiveness of many contemporary pieces. It can be a challenge, sure, but nothing that can not be overcome by the creativity of cast and crew.
As an actor, you learn to contribute to this “lack” by filling the space with the use of physicality and trying to be as honest as you can as the character. I believe that the audience is usually an intelligent one and they’re able to fill the holes of whatever set or props might be missing as long as the performers can fill the space with the emotional experience.
How do you prepare for a performance?
Going over lines, stretches, trying not to throw up backstage, mouth exercises, clearing myself of the experiences of the day and putting myself into emotional neutral – the usual boring actor stuff. If the discoveries were made in the rehearsals, it usually will come during the performance. And if you’re loose enough, you’ll find more during performance.
Listen to me, getting all Field of Dreams! Just call me Kevin Costner.
How do you feel when the run of a play is over?
There are definitely feelings of withdrawal and with those come the symptoms. Usually, for a week or so after the play has closed, I’ll be wandering the streets at night and crying myself to sleep during the days. It can get pretty ugly...
I am my own worst critic. The wonderful thing about acting in a play is the constant discoveries you make in all the moments that should seamlessly move into the next. When you’re in the place to find those, then its actor heaven. I don’t know if it’s been scientifically proven but I personally think every time an actor makes a discovery, their body shoots up with some crazy endorphins. And man, do I miss those when it’s over. Then I continue to think about what I could’ve done differently in one scene and then another and then another. And I kick myself for not having seen it earlier. I guess I’m slightly masochistic.
The cast of Hungry Ghosts seems particularly close-knit. Why do you think that is, and has it influenced the performances in any way?
I’ve recently discovered that the cast IS trying to kill the playwright (M.E.H Lewis). [I knew it!]But the playwright seems to enjoy it so people can take what they want from that. My theory is that it’s all the overlapping dialogue that’s making them crazy. I’ve suggested a million times to the director (Laura Blegen) that we NEED to put Percocet in everyone’s water halfway into the second act, but nobody wants to listen to the LOWLY ACTOR. Nobody…and I am NOT trying to sabotage the other actors’ performances to make myself look good. Really.
You play the part of Isabelle, a woman who has kept terrible secrets most of her life. Can you describe the character and what it's like to play her? Does it take an emotional toll on you?
Playing the part of Isabelle has actually taught me a lot about acting. She’s a beautiful character. Her story is not unlike my grandparents’ story so it was something I was very familiar with – the efforts to retain dignity after having been an unwilling participant of a past that can only described as madness, the humanity we try to come to terms with after having, in desperation, done something that haunts us every day. Heartbreaking situations that still occur for many to this very day.
The emotional parts are always challenging. I remember when playing an intense part, I would try to get all “Method” and work myself into a frenzy. When I did this, one of two things would happen, a.) I would fail miserably or b.) there would be a bit too much hysteria for my well-being. Definitely not healthy.
Then one rehearsal or performance (and it was for Hungry Ghosts), I remember, I was in neutral as far as my “feelings” were concerned and THAT scene came up, the emotionally devastating one. And I don’t know what happened but something just clicked in my head. I realized that people who are extremely emotional usually are trying to hold them back. But they can’t. The emotions are in the words, the words of any great playwright and they’ll come if I try to hold them back. It’s weird. It might have something to do with the frustration anyone feels when they feel they are forced into something, from something. In any case, it’s been working and I don’t have to be an emotional basket case in my personal life to do it.
For you, what is this play about?
You can’t always get what you want.
You can’t always get what you want.
But if you try sometime you just might find,
You just might find,
You get what you need!
Sounds simple, but god, is it ever hard to come to terms with that.
You can see Soo Jin in Hungry Ghosts tonight at 7:30 and again on 5/29.
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
Sometimes Even Bio-Terrorism Isn't as Fun as the Lake
Ruby Vector Playwright Karla Jennings arrives in Chicago to watch the LeapFest peformance.Tuesday May 19: Arrived here today for the Thursday performance of The Ruby Vector. I love Midway Airport! It brought me here! I love the Orange Line on the El! Otherwise I'd have to pay a cab! I even love the farty guy who sat next to me all the way from Midway to Clark Street because… actually, I didn't care for him.
Nothing better for nostalgia than a gorgeous warm breezy day in Chicago. It was great from the start, because I reunited with a college friend for lunch at Digiorno's. Though we roomed back in the days when polyester was considered an exciting alternative to natural fibers, she's hardly changed, or maybe it's just, when I look at her, I'm 19 again. Friends can be a personal time warp.
"Hi gerz," said the waitress. "Whaddya wanna drink?" I asked for peppermint tea.
"We don't carry exotic teas," she said. "We only got Liption." It's good to be home.
After dropping off my bags I went for a walk. Back in The Toddling Town, The Windy City of Big Shoulders, Second City, Slaughterhouse to the World (sounds kinda creepy, yeah?). A bicyclist with a very Weimar helmet coasted past, a daisy stuck in her ear. Miniature lilacs bloomed in tiny yards. Stolid Slavics rumbled down the walk. I crossed Racine, the street where the rat Frank Nitti pumped flatfoot Jim Malone full of lead, and eventually reached Diversey Pier, where I heard a familiar screech from a bird I grew up with but never see in Georgia.
"Hail red-wing blackbird, soldier of my childhood!" I cried.
"Aw crap," chirped the bird, "another goddamn mawky tourist," and flew off.
I popped out at the lake front. Bicyclists and roller-bladers swooshed by, joggers thudded past, gulls squawked and dove for fish. A constant background whirr of traffic and conversation. Days like this make my adjectives spill out.
When I was a freshman at Northwestern, before transferring to U. of I, I walked by The Lake a lot in wintertime, especially before those dreaded p-chem tests. Icy waves smashing against huge concrete blocks reminded me that the only eternal was the universe's cold indifference; my life was but a brief and feeble flicker. That comforted me. Then I'd go flunk my test, not worried too much because it didn't really matter.
But today wasn't NU, it was Lincoln Park near Wrigley Field, where my sister Nan once lived. She had the ideal twenty-something apartment life, she and her friends living an existence so blissfully elemental they didn't even need place names. "Wanna go to da Lake before we hit da Game? Then maybe we can go to da Bar." "Ho-kay." She talked high, blunt and fast, like Al Capone on speed, until her move to San Jose chilled her out like a Napa Zinfandel.
I sat on the concrete curve. Lake Michigan's slate-blue waves wavered against the paler blue of mist and sky. The Sears Tower glowed black, the city skyline as sharp as obsidian. This is good, I thought. Maybe I spend too much time huddled alone in front of a computer, making things up. In the long run, isolation deadens you. Being surrounded by people felt good. The life of the mind isn't without its pleasures, but sometimes it's better simply to be under the sun on a beautiful day, watching real life move around you. Hearing it. Feeling it on your skin. Maybe I'll sit here a while and not think.
See The Ruby Vector tomorrow (5/21) at 7:30 or 5/30 at 2pm. Don't miss this stellar new play.
Nothing better for nostalgia than a gorgeous warm breezy day in Chicago. It was great from the start, because I reunited with a college friend for lunch at Digiorno's. Though we roomed back in the days when polyester was considered an exciting alternative to natural fibers, she's hardly changed, or maybe it's just, when I look at her, I'm 19 again. Friends can be a personal time warp.
"Hi gerz," said the waitress. "Whaddya wanna drink?" I asked for peppermint tea.
"We don't carry exotic teas," she said. "We only got Liption." It's good to be home.
After dropping off my bags I went for a walk. Back in The Toddling Town, The Windy City of Big Shoulders, Second City, Slaughterhouse to the World (sounds kinda creepy, yeah?). A bicyclist with a very Weimar helmet coasted past, a daisy stuck in her ear. Miniature lilacs bloomed in tiny yards. Stolid Slavics rumbled down the walk. I crossed Racine, the street where the rat Frank Nitti pumped flatfoot Jim Malone full of lead, and eventually reached Diversey Pier, where I heard a familiar screech from a bird I grew up with but never see in Georgia.
"Hail red-wing blackbird, soldier of my childhood!" I cried.
"Aw crap," chirped the bird, "another goddamn mawky tourist," and flew off.
I popped out at the lake front. Bicyclists and roller-bladers swooshed by, joggers thudded past, gulls squawked and dove for fish. A constant background whirr of traffic and conversation. Days like this make my adjectives spill out.
When I was a freshman at Northwestern, before transferring to U. of I, I walked by The Lake a lot in wintertime, especially before those dreaded p-chem tests. Icy waves smashing against huge concrete blocks reminded me that the only eternal was the universe's cold indifference; my life was but a brief and feeble flicker. That comforted me. Then I'd go flunk my test, not worried too much because it didn't really matter.
But today wasn't NU, it was Lincoln Park near Wrigley Field, where my sister Nan once lived. She had the ideal twenty-something apartment life, she and her friends living an existence so blissfully elemental they didn't even need place names. "Wanna go to da Lake before we hit da Game? Then maybe we can go to da Bar." "Ho-kay." She talked high, blunt and fast, like Al Capone on speed, until her move to San Jose chilled her out like a Napa Zinfandel.
I sat on the concrete curve. Lake Michigan's slate-blue waves wavered against the paler blue of mist and sky. The Sears Tower glowed black, the city skyline as sharp as obsidian. This is good, I thought. Maybe I spend too much time huddled alone in front of a computer, making things up. In the long run, isolation deadens you. Being surrounded by people felt good. The life of the mind isn't without its pleasures, but sometimes it's better simply to be under the sun on a beautiful day, watching real life move around you. Hearing it. Feeling it on your skin. Maybe I'll sit here a while and not think.
See The Ruby Vector tomorrow (5/21) at 7:30 or 5/30 at 2pm. Don't miss this stellar new play.
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
Ghosts & Bones Cereal
The cast is trying to kill me.I'm not sure why, but they are definitely trying to kill me. After the show on Sunday, we went out, and stayed out. Large amounts of alchohol were involved. And cigarettes. Not to mention cow penis soup, but that may be a story for another day.
And now I'm sick. Of course I'm completely convinced that I have the swine flu. I'm slamming back OJ and bowls of garlic soup (a sure-fire cure, even for the piggie sniffles). And it's all the casts' fault. They are much too fun.
The day before the show, I spent a rather foolish amount of time making opening night gifts. I love opening night gifts. They bring out the six-year-old in me, which is never far f
rom the surface in any case. There's a line in the play, "Now just ghosts left. Ghosts and bones," with all the ghosts echoing the "ghosts and bones" part. We decided that this sounds like a breakfast cereal, "Ghosts & Bones Cereal." The bones would be the crunchy bit, and the ghosts would be the marshmallows. (If you've never been involved in a rehearsal process, this gives you a good glimpse into the utter silliniess often involved. The more serious the subject, 
the sillier the jokes.) So, for opening night gifts, I made boxes of Ghosts & Cereal for everyone. I can't tell you how much pleasure that silly little craft project gave me. I hand-colored each box, and added red glitter to the skull and crossbones which (naturally) adorned each box top. I passed out the gifts on Sunday before the show, and the tickled laughter made every moment of working the glue stick completely worthwhile.
Thursday, May 14, 2009
LeapFest opens tonight!
First Night (on Tuesday) was a great success. We previewed the five plays of LeapFest, wore green feather boas, and perhaps drank a little too much. You know you've been overserved when you're wearing a tiara on your head and reminiscing about prom. (not that anyone I know would do that)
The next rehearsal is Sunday morning, and our first performance is Sunday afternoon. I'm a little nervous, of course, but the show is in good shape.
And tonight is the first night of LeapFest! I will be moderating the discussion of Safe, by David Alan Moore. I'm very excited, because this is my first chance to see this brand new play. David is a terrific writer. I do hope to see you there. 7:30pm at Stage Left Theatre.
Now I'm going to work in my garden and remember what it feels like to get a little dirt under my nails. Meanwhile, you can enjoy these embarrasing pictures from First Night.
Monday, May 11, 2009
Tech & Dress Rehearsal--entering the home stretch
( all of the other plays in LeapFest have guns, but we get finger bones (played here by chicken bones)My apologies for not posting in the last couple days. The schedule has been busy. Last night was our dress rehearsal, which was challenging but rewarding. It made me very aware of how ambitious it is to stage these plays with so little rehearsal time, but it made me even more aware that I have been blessed with a truly stellar ensemble. Now I'll share with you a few photographs from the last few days. The quality tends to be quite grainy because I was shooting in low light with no flash, but it should give you an idea of how the piece is coming together.
On the left, Tovah Hicks and Noelle Hardy as poltergeists tormenting Isabelle, played by Soo Jin Park. On the right, the same scene during dress rehearsal.
Isabelle feeds Alice (May Lee Lockhart)The scene titled "prison ghosts" has come together in a p
articularly creepy and effect way. They physicality and focus of the ensemble is pretty amazing. This scene makes the hair on back of my neck rise every time I watch.
articularly creepy and effect way. They physicality and focus of the ensemble is pretty amazing. This scene makes the hair on back of my neck rise every time I watch.
LeapFest is always a bumpy ride. Last night was the first and only chance to run the play completely, on the stage, with the costumes, lighting and all the props. This is an ambitious project. Maybe even foolhardy. And yet, every year, the results are remarkable.
(the play's final image)Wednesday, May 6, 2009
Nightmares
Yesterday I revised one of the scenes, incorporating some monologues from the ghosts about how, in life, they had been interrogated and tortured. The monologues are slight, and the revision took me less than thirty minutes, and then I went on with my busy day. But those thoughts, about torture and pain and the terrible things we do to each other, stayed in my brain and surfaced in the form of a bone-shaking nightmare last night. Today I'm useless and exhausted, and wondering why I write. But of course, I know the answer. I write because I have to, because the story jumps on my back and sinks in its claws and doesn't let go until I'm done.
And that makes me think of the Night Hags. Night Hags are the mythical creatures believed to ride us in our sleep and torment us with dark visions. Spirit possession. You see, it all comes back to ghosts, and not all ghosts are friendly.
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
Some Thoughts about Ghosts
I've just finished revising one scene of Hungry Ghosts, a scene in which all the ghosts are whispering at once, all telling their own private, urgent stories. As I wrote the ghosts' monologues, I wondered how I could explain the scene to the cast, and I thought about the various theories I've heard to explain hauntings. One theory is that a haunting is essentially a film loop, a moment so painful or traumatic that it is permanently burned upon the air, endlessly repeating itself for anyone who can see or hear it. Another theory ties the haunting to unfinished business, the restless ghost's need to apologize or avenge. Another is that ghosts belong to those people who are too scared to leave this existence so they're stuck, neither here nor there. Personally, I'm a fan of the "friendly visit" theory, the idea that in the afterlife we can pop in on the people and places we love, check up on them, hanging out like the last guests to leave a very long party.
Monday, May 4, 2009
Getting Ready for First Night
First Night, the kick-off event for LeapFest will be on Tuesday, May 12 at 7:30pm, at T's Bar, 5025 North Clark.
Admission is free. A percentage of the money you spend on delicious food and drink will go to Stage Left, so come hungry (and thirsty).
There will be previews of the LeapFest plays and games. It's always a lot of fun. Hope to see you there!
Admission is free. A percentage of the money you spend on delicious food and drink will go to Stage Left, so come hungry (and thirsty).
There will be previews of the LeapFest plays and games. It's always a lot of fun. Hope to see you there!
The Ruby Vector: Frankenstein and the Age of Germ Warfare
Here's an entry from Karla Jennings, author of The Ruby Vector, a compelling and timely play about biological weapons:
I have two weeks to lose ten pounds before getting to Chicago! Can it be done? Well, yes, if I stop eating like a pig and get my ass off the couch, but that's not gonna happen.
Regardless, I'm looking forward to being back in Chitown. I grew up in Chicagoland, and miss it. I've lived in Georgia 22+ years, but will never feel like a Southerner. I'll always feel like a Midwesterner. One thing that struck me, after living all over the place for many years, was that, in California, someone may introduce themselves with, "I work as a bank manager, but that's not what I am, I'm really a poet." In Chicago, someone may introduce themselves with, "I've written 5 books of poetry, but I'm really a plumber." For better or worse, people are more in touch with physical reality in the Midwest; gravity seems heavier there, people walk more heavily, perhaps because they're more down-to-earth, or maybe the perogi and deep-dish pizza have something to do with it.
I'm deeply curious how The Ruby Vector will turn out in LeapFest. Doing a workshop production with a team you don't know is like doing a trapeze routine with strangers; you gotta pray they have a quick grasp and also know when to let go. That's the essence of grace in so much of life.
You may ask, Why did you write this play? Okay, you didn't ask it, you're just reading this because you have to look busy at the computer or your boss will get pissed. Well, anyway, it's a question I ask myself, a lot. Why the hell am I writing this…?
I wrote The Ruby Vector because I got a tiny commission from a technical institute's drama club to write a one-act inspired by Frankenstein. I'd recently read about a Russian bioweapons scientist claiming to have created viral/bacterial chimeras -- potentially fatal bacteria containing potentially fatal viruses. It repulsed me. I found this especially offensive because I was a biology major, and love biology. What could be more beautiful than the living science? What could be more repulsive than a scientist who'd use his genius to create living death?
But anyway, when I got this commission, I met with the theater club's director to discuss what the play would be about. I pitched what I thought was a really neat idea. His eyes glazed over. So, I mentioned this bioweapons scientist, and he said, "Why don't you write about that?" I thought, Damn, if you weren't paying me money, I'd say "No!" So I wrote the one-act, which kept haunting me, so a year later I'd expanded it into a full-length.
It's the most difficult play I've ever written, because I hated the central character, Demyan Veronin, who'd dedicated his life to devising new forms of torturous, horrible plagues. But as I wrote him and his story, and researched bioweapons work and terrorism, I leaned over the abyss of nihilism that motivates so much terrorism and murder in the world, and began to understand him. I saw him as rising from the rags of people born into unfortunate places at unfortunate times, who get crushed. He survived, deformed. At his core there's nothing but pain, and the pathetic desire to be happy and loved, which he doesn't know how to accomplish because they're alien to him.
I guess you can say familiarity breeds compassion. Or, perhaps, that familiarity breeds excuse of any evil, like Pope's dictum; "Vice is a monster of so frightful mien,/As to be hated needs but to be seen;/Yet seen too oft, familiar with her face,/We first endure, then pity, then embrace." All I know is that I developed a deep compassion for Demyan, and regretted what happened to him, but that's the way he was written. I might be the playwright, but that doesn't mean that everything I create in a play is under my power to change."
See the Ruby Vector, directed by Greg Werstler, 5/15 and 5/21 at 7:300pm, 5/30 at 2pm.
I have two weeks to lose ten pounds before getting to Chicago! Can it be done? Well, yes, if I stop eating like a pig and get my ass off the couch, but that's not gonna happen.
Regardless, I'm looking forward to being back in Chitown. I grew up in Chicagoland, and miss it. I've lived in Georgia 22+ years, but will never feel like a Southerner. I'll always feel like a Midwesterner. One thing that struck me, after living all over the place for many years, was that, in California, someone may introduce themselves with, "I work as a bank manager, but that's not what I am, I'm really a poet." In Chicago, someone may introduce themselves with, "I've written 5 books of poetry, but I'm really a plumber." For better or worse, people are more in touch with physical reality in the Midwest; gravity seems heavier there, people walk more heavily, perhaps because they're more down-to-earth, or maybe the perogi and deep-dish pizza have something to do with it.
I'm deeply curious how The Ruby Vector will turn out in LeapFest. Doing a workshop production with a team you don't know is like doing a trapeze routine with strangers; you gotta pray they have a quick grasp and also know when to let go. That's the essence of grace in so much of life.
You may ask, Why did you write this play? Okay, you didn't ask it, you're just reading this because you have to look busy at the computer or your boss will get pissed. Well, anyway, it's a question I ask myself, a lot. Why the hell am I writing this…?
I wrote The Ruby Vector because I got a tiny commission from a technical institute's drama club to write a one-act inspired by Frankenstein. I'd recently read about a Russian bioweapons scientist claiming to have created viral/bacterial chimeras -- potentially fatal bacteria containing potentially fatal viruses. It repulsed me. I found this especially offensive because I was a biology major, and love biology. What could be more beautiful than the living science? What could be more repulsive than a scientist who'd use his genius to create living death?
But anyway, when I got this commission, I met with the theater club's director to discuss what the play would be about. I pitched what I thought was a really neat idea. His eyes glazed over. So, I mentioned this bioweapons scientist, and he said, "Why don't you write about that?" I thought, Damn, if you weren't paying me money, I'd say "No!" So I wrote the one-act, which kept haunting me, so a year later I'd expanded it into a full-length.
It's the most difficult play I've ever written, because I hated the central character, Demyan Veronin, who'd dedicated his life to devising new forms of torturous, horrible plagues. But as I wrote him and his story, and researched bioweapons work and terrorism, I leaned over the abyss of nihilism that motivates so much terrorism and murder in the world, and began to understand him. I saw him as rising from the rags of people born into unfortunate places at unfortunate times, who get crushed. He survived, deformed. At his core there's nothing but pain, and the pathetic desire to be happy and loved, which he doesn't know how to accomplish because they're alien to him.
I guess you can say familiarity breeds compassion. Or, perhaps, that familiarity breeds excuse of any evil, like Pope's dictum; "Vice is a monster of so frightful mien,/As to be hated needs but to be seen;/Yet seen too oft, familiar with her face,/We first endure, then pity, then embrace." All I know is that I developed a deep compassion for Demyan, and regretted what happened to him, but that's the way he was written. I might be the playwright, but that doesn't mean that everything I create in a play is under my power to change."
See the Ruby Vector, directed by Greg Werstler, 5/15 and 5/21 at 7:300pm, 5/30 at 2pm.
Sunday, May 3, 2009
Recovering the Dead
In Hungry Ghosts, the main character, Alice, is a forensic anthropologist who goes to Vietnam to recover the remains of fallen American servicemen. The military and archaeological aspects of this mission fascinate me, but they get short shrift in the play. In earlier versions of the script, they were much more prominent, but as I wrote, the ghosts took over, as you’ll understand when you watch the play. Now, however, I’m going to use this blog as a chance to talk about JPAC and its missions.
JPAC stands for Joint POW/MIA Accounting Command. I know, it’s a mouthful, right? JPAC exists to account, as fully as possible, for Americans missing in action from past wars, going all the way back to World War II. The command was originally created following the Vietnam War. Over 30,000 American military personnel were still missing and unaccounted for, and rumors about Americans languishing in Vietnamese POW camps were rife. Understandably, their families were anxious, and felt that the men had been abandoned by the US government. JPAC was created in response to these fears. In 2009, JPAC will conduct over 50 missions around the world, in countries including Cambodia, India, Vietnam, Germany and New Guinea. To date, they have identified 1,300 MIAs.
There are three parts to a JPAC mission: investigation, recovery and identification. During the investigation phase, they carefully research all leads about MIA, gathering as much information as possible. When they have identified a likely location for an MIA, a team of 4-9 specialized members conducts field research, interviewing possible witnesses and surveying the terrain. If sufficient evidence is found, a recovery team is sent to the site. A typica
l team is composed of 10-14 members, led by a military team leader and a civilian forensic anthropologist. The recovery mission is essentially an archaeological excavation. If any remains are recovered, they are transported to the JPAC’s Central Identification Lab in Hawaii for identification. The remains, no matter how small, are transported in a full-size coffin and receive an arrival ceremony. During the identification phase, scientists do their best to identify the remains using DNA, dental records and any other means. Once the remains are identified, which is not always possible, the family is notified.
In some cases, the soldier has been dead and missing thirty years or more. The remains may be returned to a child who never met his or her father, or a widow who has long since remarried and moved on. But they are brought home, finally given the closure and respect they deserve.
JPAC stands for Joint POW/MIA Accounting Command. I know, it’s a mouthful, right? JPAC exists to account, as fully as possible, for Americans missing in action from past wars, going all the way back to World War II. The command was originally created following the Vietnam War. Over 30,000 American military personnel were still missing and unaccounted for, and rumors about Americans languishing in Vietnamese POW camps were rife. Understandably, their families were anxious, and felt that the men had been abandoned by the US government. JPAC was created in response to these fears. In 2009, JPAC will conduct over 50 missions around the world, in countries including Cambodia, India, Vietnam, Germany and New Guinea. To date, they have identified 1,300 MIAs.
There are three parts to a JPAC mission: investigation, recovery and identification. During the investigation phase, they carefully research all leads about MIA, gathering as much information as possible. When they have identified a likely location for an MIA, a team of 4-9 specialized members conducts field research, interviewing possible witnesses and surveying the terrain. If sufficient evidence is found, a recovery team is sent to the site. A typica
l team is composed of 10-14 members, led by a military team leader and a civilian forensic anthropologist. The recovery mission is essentially an archaeological excavation. If any remains are recovered, they are transported to the JPAC’s Central Identification Lab in Hawaii for identification. The remains, no matter how small, are transported in a full-size coffin and receive an arrival ceremony. During the identification phase, scientists do their best to identify the remains using DNA, dental records and any other means. Once the remains are identified, which is not always possible, the family is notified.In some cases, the soldier has been dead and missing thirty years or more. The remains may be returned to a child who never met his or her father, or a widow who has long since remarried and moved on. But they are brought home, finally given the closure and respect they deserve.
Saturday, May 2, 2009
Finally in the swing of things
Last night's rehearsal was the first chance I've had to hear the play all the way through since the first read-through, and it was really a pleasure to be able to really get into it and start making some edits. I cleaned up some of the clunky transitions and added a bit more texture. But at the same time, it's frustrating, because I realize that I can't make too many more cha
nges before the performance. The actors need time to assimilate the changes and work on the timing, which is so crucial to this piece. It really is an ensemble play, far more than anything else I've written. During tomorrow's rehearsal I'll probably make some more edits, and then I'll let it go. At least until after the first performance... (fair warning, cast!)
nges before the performance. The actors need time to assimilate the changes and work on the timing, which is so crucial to this piece. It really is an ensemble play, far more than anything else I've written. During tomorrow's rehearsal I'll probably make some more edits, and then I'll let it go. At least until after the first performance... (fair warning, cast!)The cast deserves so much praise. May Lee Lockhart as Alice, Soo Jin Park as Isabelle, Noelle Hardy, Tovah Hicks, Dan Wachter, Callie Munson and Brandon Little as ghosts. This group really has wonderful chemistry, and they are all so joyful about playing and experimenting and finding new nuances in the story. I think this could be a frustrating play to work on. Most members of the cast play multiple characters, and there are a lot of quick transitions. Timing is crucial; as Noelle pointed out, if on
e line is dropped, the whole thing can unravel quickly. That means the actors really need to rely on each other. And they can. It's genuinely a pleasure to watch. Even in rehearsal, there are moments when I can simply be an audience member, enjoying fine actors on stage, instead of the playwright agonizing over clunky exposition or unclear plot. And that's fully a credit to the cast and to Laura Blegen, the director.
e line is dropped, the whole thing can unravel quickly. That means the actors really need to rely on each other. And they can. It's genuinely a pleasure to watch. Even in rehearsal, there are moments when I can simply be an audience member, enjoying fine actors on stage, instead of the playwright agonizing over clunky exposition or unclear plot. And that's fully a credit to the cast and to Laura Blegen, the director.
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