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.

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.

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.

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.

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!

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.

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 and 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.

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.

You can see Soo Jin in Hungry Ghosts tonight at 7:30 and again on 5/29.

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.

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 from 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.

Anyone who works in theatre would probably agree that you have to be crazy to do it. The work is hard and the rewards, at least the material rewards, are small. And, more often than not, the end results of months of hard labor are savaged in a snarky, three-sentence review by a critic who'd really rather be watching "Lost." But.. But we do it anyway. And we love it. We love the long hour in stuffy theatres and filthy rehearsal rooms. We love the ridiculous shared jokes and the incredible moments of discovery. We love the struggle to create meaning and beauty that are ephemeral, not captured in film or oil paint, but only in the temporary movement of sinew and breath, and last only in shared memories. We love it.

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.