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 particularly 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)

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.

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.

For me, ghosts are like stories. We need to hear them, and they need to be told. We're haunted by the things we've left undone, but even more by words unsaid. Ghost stories are a portal, a path through the dark, frightening woods, with a glimpse of light at the end.

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!

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.

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 typical 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.

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 changes 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 one 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.