Working away

The upcoming performances of 'Like a Sack of Potatoes' will be the fifth time I've put it on its feet. That included two readings (one in NYC and one in Woodstock) one performance at the One Man Talking Festival in NYC and then last fall's performances in Haverstraw. I've learned a lot about the piece along the way, and it has deepened with time . . . each time I think it is as good as it can be and then . . . what do you know . . . when coming back to it, it only gets better.

It is a very good thing I couldn't do it in the fall version of the MITF because of the Equity thing, it would have been right on the heels of the Haverstraw performances and we would have probably just kept it as is. Now, coming back to it after a few months away from it, we're finding a lot of new elements to the play; new colors and textures . .. and the ending, which is pretty devastating when it works . . . is going to be even more powerful now.

The difference isn't in the script. Except for an insignificant trim here and there, it is virtually unchanged. The difference is in the exploration of character and motivation . . . why you're telling this story . . . and why it's hard to tell . . . I don't want to say too much but it is sufficient to say it feels very very good and I can't wait to get it before an audience.

I love this character. He's a tough old bird who loves and is tormented by his wife and two daughters. The big challenge is balancing the love for his family and his irascibility toward them (and in the case of his wife, 'the old lady', her irascibility toward him!). . . but I'm having fun figuring it out.

I'm not doing it alone of course. Bette is an excellent director. Insightful and with exquisite theatrical instincts . . . we have worked on all five of my solo pieces (though Wallace Norman directed the first production of Old Hickory, Bette has seen to subsequent productions). She is very adept at helping me burrow into the pieces and find what is down there, deeper down every time . . . discovery is what makes rehearsal so rewarding . . . and we've been discovering a lot.

We were supposed to go see the theater on Tuesday night but the crap weather made me decide to skip it. It's a pretty small space and you get a good idea of what it's like on the website, so we decided to use the time rehearsing instead. We'll see it soon enough. We have a couple of hours tech time on the afternoon of opening and that should be fine. There isn't much tech involved with the piece, basically lights up and lights down . . . with a little music on both ends. Other than that it's the magic in the words . . . and whatever I can bring to them in performance. Audiences have been very responsive to it at every step of the way, and I'm really excited to get to do multiple performances in the city.

What else is there.

The thick of it

So we're hitting our stride with rehearsals. It's pretty incredible to return to a piece you've done before and work on it as if for the first time. We're finding all kinds of moments that we didn't before, but I guess that's what putting a piece under the microscope of rehearsal can do for it. We've been progressing slowly through the piece moment by moment, beat by beat and really digging into it. It's amazing to look at a clock after rehearsing for what seems like twenty minutes and hour and a half has gone by.

I do have to say I love this piece and am really looking forward to bringing it back into New York. My first experience with long form monologues was doing The Zoo Story all those years ago; the story of Jerry and the dog is the moment when you can feel the audience start to squirm a little bit . . . when you tighten the screw and make people wonder: wait a minute what is this? I think Like a Sack of Potatoes has that element to it, it begins a little lighter and then spirals into a much darker story. It's awesome to be on stage and experience those moments when you feel the audience turn from laughing-happy to 'uh-oh'.

I think all of my pieces have that to some extent, maybe the piece about O'Neil's father less so, but certainly the other four pieces do.

Getting the postcards ready, should have a proof back today. And then we'll see who we can get out for this. It's always nice to have an audience!

Of course . . .

Now that I decided to blog about activities theatrical this year, for the first time Wallace had to cancel our rehearsal yesterday because he was unwell. So Bette and I ran lines for a large chunk of Act One of Happy Days. The poetry of this play knocks me out every time I read it. The rhythms of the writing are very specific, which makes Bette's job that much harder, but add to the beauty. I'm having fun with the slightly off kilter Willie, he adds much to the piece and it's a blast to be working with these two on this masterpiece.

It's great to have this kind of artistic collaboration in my life. Bette and I work very well together and Wallace just means so much to me, and it's a gift for him to seek out my/our company. This is the third play I've worked on with Wallace since 2010. First was Old Hickory, which was a life changing/affirming experience, opening the Fringe festival in Woodstock that year; then came Wallace's play It Can't Happen Here, also with Bette and now Happy Days . . . it's a thrill ride no doubt about it.

In other news of the week, I finally friended Jerome Davis at Burning Coal. I don't know why I hadn't thought to do that before. I met Jerry doing The Trip to Bountiful years ago, and at the time he was scouting around for places to start a theater . . . and he found it in the Raleigh/Durham area. In 1999 he gave me a heck of a lift in producing a staged reading of my play Damage Control. It was my first public reading of the play (or of any of my full length plays) and it meant a lot to me. Kind of lost touch with him over the years, emailing on occasion but otherwise everybody living their lives.

More as it happens.

I'm Baaaccck

Decided this might be a pretty good year to take to the blog again. It looks to be a busy one on the theater side of things: I have a performance of 'Like a Sack of Potatoes' in the city in March (pending seeing the actual agreement I am expected to sign) and Samuel Beckett's 'Happy Days' in the beautiful Byrdcliffe Theatre in Woodstock in August! Add to that returning to my new play, which scares me a bit because of the ambition of it, but that's reason enough to stick with it I think. I'm hoping to present some or all of it as a reading this spring in NYC at the Voices of the Fringe. So all in all 2016 is shaping up to be a busy and fulfilling year!

Y'know . . . all these people dying too young (Bowie, Alan Rickman) is enough to slap a person around and wake them up. But I don't have to go that far afield to be reminded of that; my brother's fourteen year fight with ALS was wake up call enough.

I love a column I read today by David Brooks. In it he quoted Van Gogh: "I am seeking. I am striving. I am in it with all my heart." Those are words to live by.

I've written a bunch of plays in the last few years, (I have twelve full length on my resume but that doesn't count ones I haven't had readings or some level of activity with) none of them have been produced but that's ok. You do it because you do it. Every step of the way leads to the next one. So here's to an exciting year . . . and I hope to post on a semi regular basis!

Another theater day: All the Way and Love and Information

We got tickets for All The Way, way in advance; being big fans of Brian Cranston in Breaking Bad (hint: that's why this play is in the big house). We were really looking forward to it and I very purposely did not read any reviews going in, figuring to go with my eyes wide open and unfiltered by anyone else.

As luck would have it, we got a two-for-one offer from the Dramatists Guild on Friday for Caryl Churchill's Love and Information at the Minetta Lane Theatre. Bette emailed me at work and wondered if it might make for another of our double header theater days. And so it did.

We saw the Churchill play first. I have to admit, while knowing she was around and that her work was performed extensively, I did not know her work at all. What an introduction! Love and Information is a series of scenes(some more, shall we say 'elliptical' than others) about love, connection, communication (and lack thereof), memory and perception (and lack thereof) some barely a line long, some several minutes. A blackout separated the pieces.

Every single aspect of the production was immaculate and amazing: the design, sound, lighting, direction all worked seamlessly to frame the work of the playwright and actors (15 and each one truly gifted). Going in with no expectations may have helped, but I was totally blown away by this. (I'd love to know how they did the scene changes, a few seconds in absolute black - granted minimal was the word with the sets for each piece but still! And while there was no visible scrim at the front of the stage, they projected numbers in black on something; and the black was so total you could see no visible scene change - really effective!)

Speaking of expectations: they were present and high for All the Way. I was very disappointed. Pretty much the antithesis of the afternoon experience. Brian Cranston went all the way, alright, but by that I mean all the way over the top! The focus and intensity I had known him for in Breaking Bad was rarely in evidence (and would have been perfect for LBJ!). Instead he was mugging and obvious, barely scratching the surface of this complex character. I lay the blame partly on the actor, but maybe just as much on the director for not reining him in and focusing him more. Equal blame to the script as well: history plays can try to do too much, and while the period involved in this piece is only a year, the playwright tries to explore every nook and cranny of that year, and a lot of it without much depth.

My expectations were also high because I love Robert Caro's books and the LBJ (despicable though he is) portrayed in them. This play didn't touch the hem of the tapestry woven by the books, but tried to incorporate as much from them as possible as if the playwright wanted to say: look at all the research I've done. Major events in LBJ's career are mentioned and tossed aside (my question being: why mention them then?).

So I guess Brian Cranston deserves kudos for swinging for the bleachers (he could have made millions doing movies and TV these last few months); I just wish he'd hit a home run. I felt he had it in him . . . just didn't get where he needed to be!

2013 - A look back

So this year has been unique for a couple of reasons, getting a woodburning stove in the living room might be one of them. But since this is a blog related to my theatrical misadventures we won't talk too much about that . . . though the day we got it installed I performed Old Hickory at the Snowball Festival in New York.

In fact, in 2013 I performed three of my solo pieces, one of which wasn't even a gleam in my eye when the year began. The quirk of scheduling that made that happen was One Man Talking adding a fall session to the mix; typically they only go one time a year, but for a variety of reasons they decided to do it again . . . and since I had this new piece . . . well what the heck! So Old Hickory in January, Letter of Resignation in OMT for the spring and Preston's Spot in the fall.

Y'know: while I'd like more opportunities to get perform these pieces, it ain't too shabby any way you cut it. I'm proud of them all and am happy with the work I've done on them.

It was great that Bette was involved in the solo thing this fall too! Her show went very well, and working with her as director (which she has done with/for me several times) was a treat as well.

I guess it's only fitting that for the final session of the Woodstock Fringe for the fall I read the beginnings of my newest solo thing . . . as yet untitled, and I'm just figuring out what it is, but it was fun to put it out there.

The Fringe continues to be an inspiration. It feels like family and is a safe and supporting atmosphere to work in . . . what more can you ask?

This year also saw the final part of my miners trilogy, at last! I sent it to several contests and we'll see if it gets any traction, but I like it and we'll see what happens.

As to things we've seen: This fall we had a bit of a binge. First up was The Weir at Irish Rep. A good production of a wonderful play. Not outstanding but good.

Next was The Glass Menagerie, which was exquisite. Cherry Jones is a treasure, but the rest of the cast were equal to her in every way.

Then came our Shakespeare day: Richard III for a matinee followed by Twelfe Night in the evening, both with the same cast, both with Mark Rylance in the lead. Rylance is one of those actors that I will never miss . . . brilliant. It was great to see them back to back to see the actors stretch from one play to the next . . . quite an experience.

Last, and least, was Waiting for Godot. I'd say it was misguided. Ian McKellen was amazing, but everyone else was way off the mark. Too bad. Having seen the Gate Theatre's production, I'm waiting for the one to surpass it, but I never expect for that to happen . . . every element of the Gate production rang true . . . if you trust the play that can happen!

Summing up the year in theater wouldn't be complete without mentioning Chicago in the spring, which seems like years ago now! The hip hop Othello, the show at Steppenwolf and the readings at the Goodman made for quite a weekend of theater (which I wrote about in an earlier post).

All in all a wonderful year in so many ways. Some losses along the way; my father in May and my friend Micki Maley as well.

So onward. Keep writing and keep growing. The next great thing is right around the corner.

Trilogy finally a trilogy!

My 'Miners Trilogy' is finally a trilogy! After a false start or three, the third play is now in the can and I have submitted it to a couple of places, with more submissions in the offing. I'm not at this point submitting as three plays, just submitting play three to competitions.

The next step is to put together a nice letter of introduction and send it to any theater company I can think of and we'll see where it sticks . . . if anywhere.

At any rate, this didn't start out to be a trilogy; I just wrote a play about coal miners on the picket line during a strike, because it always seemed like a situation ripe with possibility. Even when I started to write the second play, it didn't seem like a trilogy to me, then, out of nowhere it hit me . . . why not . . . I even kind of had the idea for the basics of the third play ... it just took a while to get it right.

The plays are only linked because they are about coal miners and I wrote them; the only recurring character is Beulah who owns a miners-friendly bar (she is in the first and third play, and mentioned in the second). The other link is music . . . in the first two plays not only do the titles come from songs (That Lonesome Valley and Where the Rain Never Falls) but the songs are actually sung. So to round out the concept I had to come up with a third song and decided on Working Man Blues (by Merle Haggard - though in this case the song isn't sung in the play).

Each play takes a look at a different aspect of what these guys face: the hardships of a strike in TLV, the dangers inherent in mining in Rain, and what happens to these guys, who for generations have depended on the industry, when the jobs go away in Working Man Blues.

They also stand alone, you don't have to know TLV or Rain to enjoy Working Man Blues.

So it has been a long time since I wrote That Lonesome Valley in 2000, and Where the Rain Never Falls in 2004 . . . well . . . as Jerry says in The Zoo Story: Sometimes you have to go a long way out of you way to go a short way correctly (I paraphrase).

I was still working at The Village Voice when I started TLV!