I thought the opening went very well indeed. Aside from a somewhat exploding tomato all was well. The audience was responsive, and full of people I know . . . and they were very attuned to what was being presented. The space was a warm little spot, seating 33 or so . . . perfect for this intimate piece. Good comments from people who were there, genuine positive feedback (which you can tell from the faux sort of 'gee that was nice'). It was all I could have hoped for as an opening salvo. Now a night off . . . some touch up work the next couple of nights to keep it fresh, and then a barnstorming last weekend with performances on Saturday and Sunday. I'm still working the industry types to try to get them in, but we'll see. It's doing it that matters, results be damned (though it would be nice to get a little traction here).
On that note a friend asked me yesterday what I hope to achieve with all this (not someone in the arts). My answer was somewhat boiler plate, industry etc. But that question stuck with me for a long time, in fact here I am the next day still thinking about it. It's sort of one of those questions that if you have to ask there's no way to answer. You do it because you can, or must. You do it because that's what drives you. Because there is something inside that has to get out. HAS to get out. Whether it's visual art, writing, acting . . . any form of expression is just that, a form of expression. You want to say something to the world. To make something that wasn't there, and make it as good as it can possibly be. You want to tell stories or enlighten people, or both. But what you really know is that without that means of expression nothing else matters at all.
I have a great deal of respect for the guy that asked me that question, and it wasn't a judgmental question from him at all . . . he really wanted to know. In the moment I couldn't answer him coherently because it was one of those questions you can't be prepared for, or that since it was sincere you don't want to give some half assed answer to. He came to the show last night (drove from Nyack for a 7:15 show - that's a friend). I think after the performance maybe he had a somewhat clearer idea of why I do this . . . I know I did.
Wednesday, March 16, 2016
Monday, March 14, 2016
Opening Eve
Tomorrow we open in the city with Like a Sack of Potatoes. I picked up the programs today and they look great. We rehearsed tonight and it went acceptably well . . . as often happens though, the 'dress rehearsal' was a little soft, which doesn't concern me, and will no doubt feed me for tomorrow night. You just get to the point where you want to get this in front of people again.
The piece works, that much I know. In the readings and previous performances over the years, the response has always been very good. And in all honesty, the writing is so good that as long as I don't trip over the furniture it should hit the mark.
Aside from the fact that I wrote it and act in it, a lot of me is in the story. I spent time in the tobacco fields when I was a kid, I know the smell and the feel of that . . . I rode on top of the tobacco piled high on a flatbed wagon pulled by tractor to the barn . . . in fact the monologue that I wrote twenty some years ago, that got me into the show with Ellen Burstyn, that got me into Equity and led me to Nyack, was about my grandfather and experiences in the fields . . . it's in my DNA, it's who I am . . . so I really have to work to screw this up!
And I have no intention of screwing this up!
My only job is to go out there and leave nothing for later. I get the opportunity to perform one of my pieces in New York City. How cool is that. I guess you could take that for granted if you're from the area . . . but coming from where I come from, and harboring the dreams I harbored for so many years . . . it's a real gas to actually get to do this . . . it never ever gets old . . . I'm honored to represent for the hillbillies of the world . . .
The piece works, that much I know. In the readings and previous performances over the years, the response has always been very good. And in all honesty, the writing is so good that as long as I don't trip over the furniture it should hit the mark.
Aside from the fact that I wrote it and act in it, a lot of me is in the story. I spent time in the tobacco fields when I was a kid, I know the smell and the feel of that . . . I rode on top of the tobacco piled high on a flatbed wagon pulled by tractor to the barn . . . in fact the monologue that I wrote twenty some years ago, that got me into the show with Ellen Burstyn, that got me into Equity and led me to Nyack, was about my grandfather and experiences in the fields . . . it's in my DNA, it's who I am . . . so I really have to work to screw this up!
And I have no intention of screwing this up!
My only job is to go out there and leave nothing for later. I get the opportunity to perform one of my pieces in New York City. How cool is that. I guess you could take that for granted if you're from the area . . . but coming from where I come from, and harboring the dreams I harbored for so many years . . . it's a real gas to actually get to do this . . . it never ever gets old . . . I'm honored to represent for the hillbillies of the world . . .
Saturday, March 5, 2016
Stop Acting!
I was working on a play once with a cast that included a recent graduate from some acting program somewhere, and one day the director told him: 'You've had 125 hours of acting class and we're seeing every one of them up on that stage! Stop! Acting!'
That is some sage advise if you ask me. And it came to mind as we're rehearsing 'Like a Sack of Potatoes'. It's a strong piece, one of my strongest, and sometimes, when the writer isn't watching, the actor really wants to invest all the feeling and experience and know-how into getting the points across . . . and it just doesn't work. Then my wonderful, insightful and painfully honest director (also wife: Bette) calls me on it.
Moments that are powerful tend to be more so without unneeded actorly punctuation. Of course, the advise to the players in Hamlet springs to mind as I write this . . . it's really all you need to know about acting. Well that and how to peel back the layers that we all resist peeling to really get at the truth and power and depth of a character.
Of course, study is important . . . how else to learn timing, vocal control and movement; how else to exorcise those bad habits . . . but once you are on that stage, everything you know and have done leading up to that moment is behind you . . . all you have is now . . . and now is better if it's emotionally honest and truthful, not some facade you construct with a big all caps WATCH ME ACT on your forehead.
Part of the problem with pieces that are text heavy (a solo piece perhaps?) is that you learn the lines and run them and run them and run them just to get from the beginning to the end without screwing up . . . and then when you start to rehearse some of the bad habits you've developed in running the lines seep into performance. Once you're working on the moment to moment stuff . . . well that's when the magic starts to happen and the discoveries. It's an incredible process.
Anyway . . .
Simple is better.
Makes it sound easy but it's not.
Reminds me of a quote I read somewhere from George Burns (I paraphrase): The hardest part about acting is honesty. If you can fake that you got it made.
That is some sage advise if you ask me. And it came to mind as we're rehearsing 'Like a Sack of Potatoes'. It's a strong piece, one of my strongest, and sometimes, when the writer isn't watching, the actor really wants to invest all the feeling and experience and know-how into getting the points across . . . and it just doesn't work. Then my wonderful, insightful and painfully honest director (also wife: Bette) calls me on it.
Moments that are powerful tend to be more so without unneeded actorly punctuation. Of course, the advise to the players in Hamlet springs to mind as I write this . . . it's really all you need to know about acting. Well that and how to peel back the layers that we all resist peeling to really get at the truth and power and depth of a character.
Of course, study is important . . . how else to learn timing, vocal control and movement; how else to exorcise those bad habits . . . but once you are on that stage, everything you know and have done leading up to that moment is behind you . . . all you have is now . . . and now is better if it's emotionally honest and truthful, not some facade you construct with a big all caps WATCH ME ACT on your forehead.
Part of the problem with pieces that are text heavy (a solo piece perhaps?) is that you learn the lines and run them and run them and run them just to get from the beginning to the end without screwing up . . . and then when you start to rehearse some of the bad habits you've developed in running the lines seep into performance. Once you're working on the moment to moment stuff . . . well that's when the magic starts to happen and the discoveries. It's an incredible process.
Anyway . . .
Simple is better.
Makes it sound easy but it's not.
Reminds me of a quote I read somewhere from George Burns (I paraphrase): The hardest part about acting is honesty. If you can fake that you got it made.
Friday, February 26, 2016
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.
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.
Thursday, February 18, 2016
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!
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!
Monday, January 18, 2016
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.
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.
Saturday, January 16, 2016
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!
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!
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