Theater Around The Bay: Swell. Thanks!

We gave Barbara the day off and instead bring you local playwright Jennifer Roberts, reflecting on being thankful for that ever elusive animal… good critical feedback.

Two and a half weeks after Death Of A River in 3/4 Time was staged for the 2014 San Francisco Olympians Festival, I received a thoughtful email from an audience member. Her email came during a writing retreat and I couldn’t take it all in at that moment as my focus was on The Killing Jar (and hot tub), but I keep going back to it and becoming more and more grateful that she had been thinking about the play for this long and took the time to write me. Her letter was kind. She was interested in what the play had to say, but she was also blunt. She pointed out what hadn’t resonated with her and why. Typically, when an audience member writes to me I have one of two reactions: “Who asked you?” or “Swell. Thanks!” Usually critiques fall into the former and compliments in the latter. Hey, I’m human. My ego has an ego. But her letter of critique was swell. Here’s one reason why: she was right.

Her criticism was exactly what I knew already wasn’t working in the play (basically, I brought a hammer). Okay, now it sounds like if you agree with me, swell. If not, buh-bye. But that’s not entirely true. Not all emails that fall into the “Swell. Thanks,” reception are there because they align with my own awareness or are complimentary. In fact, I’m not always open to random emails from folks telling me what would have made my play better. If I’ve invited you to give feedback, that’s one thing, right? If I hadn’t, then I probably don’t want to hear it. “Who asked you?”

So why did I take this particular email well? I can’t say for sure. Maybe it’s because it was careful and considerate. I could tell she wanted to like the play. Maybe it’s because I know her. Maybe it’s because she, too, is a playwright, but avoided telling me how to write my play. She simply stated what hadn’t resonated and why. She didn’t offer fixes or suggestions. I respected her for that. A lot.

I wrote back and thanked her for critique.

I also let her know that I was challenging myself with this play and hadn’t gotten it to where I had hoped it would be, but was proud of it. (actually, I’m more proud of myself for attempting it). The play was problematic for me in many ways, so I decided, in the end, to let it be what it was for it’s first reading. I let her know that I doubt I’ll revise or revisit it. She responded that she was disappointed because, the subject is an important one and “one worthy of fuller treatment in your hands.”

And I agree.

However, sometimes you have to acknowledge when you don’t yet have the skills to pull off something. That’s what I learned with Death of A River. But also, if you don’t try, you’ll never acquire the skills.

I have to say, finding myself in a place of acceptance over not achieving the perfect play hasn’t been easy. I’ve always been a little embarrassed of the ones that didn’t quite hit the mark. But something has shifted for me. Perhaps it’s growth as a writer or growth as a person. Perhaps it was a blog post (I believe it was a SF Theater Pub post written by Allison Page, but I can’t locate it) that was about embracing your failures because of what they can teach you. Or, at least, that’s what I recall it saying. And I whole-heartily agree. Now.

A shift.

I still want to write a language play (on a subject I’m passionate about, while leaving my soapbox at home–it’s too heavy to lug around, anyway), and I will. Anyone who knows me knows if I set out to so something, I will do it. Eventually. I’ve already made the first step.

Jennifer Lynne Roberts is a playwright and producer and holds an MFA in Creative Writing from California College of Arts. She’s a past president of The Playwrights’ Center of San Francisco and an Associate Artist with Wily West Productions. Her latest full length play, THE KILLING JAR, was a 2014 finalist for Dayton Playhouse’s FutureFest. Find out more at http://www.jenniferlynneroberts.typepad.com</em>

Theater Around The Bay: A Thanksgiving Announcement

Happy Thanksgiving friends and fans of Theater Pub!

Whatever you do today, however you celebrate, for whatever reason, we wish you the best of everything.

And…

We’re excited to announce that on January 17th, 2015, the San Francisco Theater Pub will once again begin monthly productions!

It gets better…

We will be performing at both The Hall on Market Street, and the new PianoFight space in the Tenderloin! Performances at The Hall will be Saturday matinees, while PianoFight shows will return to the Monday and Tuesday night format of the old days. And never fear, Saturday Write Fever will continue its monthly presence at the EXIT.

More information to come, including the details of our Return Season, Llama and Beeeeeeerbear, and Pint Sized Plays V. Meanwhile…

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Thank you, everyone, for your continued support and enthusiasm for the San Francisco Theater Pub.

We’ll see you soon.

Cowan Palace: The Golden Girls Take Over San Francisco And Other Chats With Matthew Martin

On this day before Thanksgiving, Ashley thanks you for being a friend while chatting about the Golden Girls with Matthew Martin.

The Holidays are really here! And nothing says seasonal spirit like gorgeous San Francisco drag queens getting all dressed up as the legendary Golden Girls, am I right?

Yes, it’s true. For the past nine years, it’s become a local, celebrated way to enjoy the Christmas festivities. The Golden Girls: The Christmas Episodes are back and they’re more fabulous than ever.

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Need to see more? Understandable. You can take a sneak peek thanks to YouTube! Still not enough? Lucky for you, I had the chance to interview Matthew Martin who has been with the production since 2007. Matthew is not only the director of the show but is also starring as everyone’s favorite Southern belle, Blanche Devereaux!

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AC: Tell us about how you first got involved with this unique project. How has it developed over the years?

MM: We first did this production in 2007 at a friend’s Victorian here in San Francisco. It was a group of performer friends doing something fun together: 2 episodes verbatim with an intermission. I don’t’ think any of us foresaw the enormous popularity that would ensue. The audiences and shows grew and grew and GREW, going from various small venues to the grand old Victoria Theatre in 2011.

AC: What makes this year’s show different than past productions?

MM: This year’s show is different in that we’ve gone musical! Dorothy and Blanche are vying for attention at the Rusty Anchor, the local piano bar and break into song! We also have new sets. Of course, every year’s show is different, but the audiences are the same faithful crowds that have been growing with every season.

AC: What was the biggest challenge in rehearsing the show and getting it ready for opening night?

MM: Getting there, as with any show! There are always many variables and personalities involved with any theatrical production. Besides actors rehearsing, there are the departments of publicity, technical aspects, lights, sound, costuming, ticket sales. The costumes alone are a show within themselves! It’s a 1980s fashion show and another popular aspect of the production. Love the audience’s “what were they thinking?!” reaction to 1980s fashion sense!

AC: What was the biggest surprise you found when translating a script meant for TV to the stage?

MM: How rabid the fans are quoting chapter and verse of the original scripts and how well the comedy stands up 30 years later. Good writing remains good writing, always. A delightful surprise is the demographic appeal of the Golden Girls. EVERYONE loves them! Old, young, gay, straight, male, female. Love seeing the cross-section of people in every audience. That is the San Francisco I know and love and grew up with here.

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AC: I love the idea of bringing in celebrity guests! How have those personalities helped to influence the show?

MM: It’s always fun to have some local celebrities make a cameo appearances with the Golden Girls, but the audiences are coming to see the Fabulous Foursome!

AC: Why do you think this production does so well in San Francisco? Do you think it would have the same impact in other cities?

MM: The power of syndication makes it very appealing to everyone, here in San Francisco, and around the world, literally! It is “Very San Francisco” for sure, having 4 guys in drag playing these iconic roles, and our audiences can’t wait to come. It’s an annual pilgrimage, a true holiday tradition for many people here.

AC: Have you always been a Golden Girls fan? If so, who was your favorite character?

MM: Who doesn’t like the Golden Girls?! They are ALL my favorite, for different reasons, and it’s the interplay between the decidedly different four of them that makes it so funny and relatable! Like family members! Every Girl gets a rousing round of applause just by walking on the stage. It’s the audience’s way of saying hello and we love each and every one of you!

AC: Bang, Kill, Marry, Share A Cocktail: Sophia, Rose, Blanche, Dorothy

MM: Oh Lord. It had to…..I’d bang Blanche (myself! Haha!), I’d kill Sophia (out of seniority! She’s had a good long life), marry Dorothy (a woman with sense and experience) and share a cocktail with Rose (or 3 and get her bombed!).

AC: What kind of research goes into directing this show and did it vary from the type of research that went into getting into character?

MM: The research is in the years of watching them on television! The Golden Girls are very familiar friends, that’s part of their enduring appeal. It’s very nostalgic and like a comfort food for our audiences. People have a true attachment to the series, so we, the performers, know them as well as the audience. After playing these parts for so many years now, the actors get into their respective characters very easily now.

AC: What do you think it is about the show that still resonates the most with modern audiences?

MM: The truth of the comedy resonates with everyone! Modern audiences relate to the comedy and drama, as times change, but people don’t! The issues that they would explore on the series are the same as today. Love, friendship, old age, health, mothers/daughters, divorce, ex-husbands, companionship, annoying roommates, and people just having to live together to learn from and tolerate one another. The writers didn’t shy away from serious subject matter either. Some of the episodes were groundbreaking for their time in addressing such social issues as abortion and drug addiction.

AC: What’s the one Golden Girlsfashion statement you hope makes a comeback in 2015?

MM: God, not sure anyone wants ANY of those fashion statements to make a comeback, or maybe in the Smithsonian, behind glass! I do love the flash and dash of some of the getups, and Blanche gets to wear some hilarious outfits, but again most of the wardrobe is in the category of “What were they thinking?!” in the 1980s.

AC: Where can we catch your next show? Any big plans for the new year?

MM: We just finished filming Hush Up, Sweet Charlotte which should be released next year. We are doing another run of D’Arcy Drollinger’s hit show “Shit and Champagne” at The Oasis, the new club D’Arcy and Heklina are opening South of Market! I will also be doing a version of my solo show All Singing, All Dancing, All Dead at the new club later in January.

AC: What’s your favorite part of the holiday season?

MM: Being together with family and friends and reminded that the holiday season is a state of mind, not just a few weeks for love and laughter on the calendar. The holidays are a very tough time of year for many people, so performing in a show making people laugh and smile is a beautiful gift to give and receive!

AC: What food are you looking forward to indulging in this Thanksgiving?

MM: All of it! Of course my brother-in-law’s fabulous barbequed turkey, some sweet potato pie, and all the sides! Pecan pie, pumpkin pie…then I won’t eat for a week so I can fit into my costumes for opening night, December 4th!

AC: In ten words or less, why should we come see Golden Girls: The Christmas Episodes?

MM: You will be HAPPY that you came to the show!

So with that my Theater Pub pals, I leave you with this: Thank you for being a friend.Travel down the road and back again. Your heart is true, you’re a pal and a confidant.

Be sure to check out what’s sure to be a fun and festive way to enjoy the holidays with The Golden Girls: The Christmas Episodes 2014 and have a wonderful Thanksgiving!

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Come see Matthew and The Golden Girls: The Christmas Episodes 2014, Dec. 4 – 21, 2014 – Thurs. Fri. & Sat. – 8:00 pm / Sun. – 7:00 pm at the Victoria Theatre in San Francisco! Tickets are $25 and are available at http://goldengirlssf.eventbrite.com/

Working Title: Thankful for Thanksgiving Violence…?

This week Will Leschber gives thanks.

Fall finds it’s way into the corners of our lives blowing an ever cooler breeze off the bay and we pause whatever errant projects we are working on to come together for some thanks-giving. My Thanksgivings over the years have been peppered with family (distant and close), food (pleasant and gross), friends (old and new), and good times (never too few). Also I find this time of year is wrapped up with a sensation of endings, of the curtain’s close, of the year-wheel spinning down before the new start. A mixture of celebration, reflection and bitter-sweetness always flavors this season for me. That combination is somehow my favorite. Currently, this is all enhanced by the fact that I’m in the middle of moving into the first apartment that my new family (beautiful wife and lovely daughter on the way) will call home. It’s a time of High Transition.

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Within this whirlwind, I was still able to take a brief moment to enjoy some fall entertainment. The unlikely pairing taken in within days of each other turned out to be The Hunger Games: Mockingjay part 1 and Thrillpeddlers’ annual Grand Guignol horror plays: Shocktoberfest. Although seemingly an odd pairing, I found it interesting how both pieces of disparate entertainment used violence as a cathartic reward for the audience. Mockingjay presents it’s conflict as straightforward and serious. The wartime violence of this section of the story has a dramatic cost to the characters we’ve come to love, but we’d be kidding ourselves if we didn’t admit that the action is part of the draw. It’s what we are coming to see. (Along with the emotional character components…my wife just wants to see the lovers kiss! Except Gale…Gale sucks).

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Similarly, though presented with a much different tone, Shocktoberfest celebrates a genre of theatre that is built around rewarding the audience with a sort of climactic blood letting. In keeping with Grand Guignol’s programming history, the four varied, short plays presented within the night offered psychological and physical terror that wove in humorous work, dance, and song. I haven’t seen much like it on stage and I was surprised on how much fun I had. This dance macabre was made all the better by the group of friends that assembled to see the show. We were cautious to call it “boys night” because that indicates regularity. With adult social life being as fickle as it is, we just appreciated the shit out of the time we were given. A bloody good time.

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Thanksgiving is all about community and coming together. We journey across state lines, bus lines, car lanes, and packed planes to join friends and family. What the hell does this have to do violent entertainment, you say? I’m saying this entertainment like any other is enhanced by the company in which we see it. I’m thankful for that. I’m thankful The Hunger Games is improved by my wife and her sister whispering about how much Gale sucks. I’m thankful that popcorn/franchise entertainment can occasionally be high quality. I’m thankful that diverse kinds of theatre exists in the Bay Area and in the world at large. I’m thankful that five guys can make time in their adult schedules to hang out, have a beer and have some bloody fun. I’m thankful for you too. Happy Thanksgiving everybody.

Theater Around The Bay: INTO THE WOODS- A Prologue

Starting next week, Theater Pub will be running a three-part commentary panel doing a retrospective on Stephen Sondheim and James Lapine’s INTO THE WOODS, featuring the thoughts of Bay Area theater makers Stuart Bousel, Brian Katz, Marissa Skudlarek, Oren Stevens, Corinne Proctor, and Nick Trengove, each of whom have their own special connection to the seminal Broadway musical. To whet your appetite, we’re running a review (taboo for us, we know, but this is special) of the new film version of the show, from New York based actor/dancer Tommy Stefanek (who, by the way, in 2000 originated the role of Hugo in the very first production of THE EXILED, back in Tucson). Tommy caught an advance screening of the film on Sunday, this is his response. Oh, and *#*SPOILERS*#*. 

Okay, here are my thoughts about Into The Woods and some comments about tonight because it is not often that after seeing an amazing movie I get to hear Rob Marshall, Meryl Streep, Tracey Ullman, Christine Baranski, Emily Blunt and Anna Kendrick talk about the experience of making the film.

So, if you are a fan of the musical Into the Woods I am pretty sure that you will LOVE this movie. The film had me at the edge of my seat from beginning to end. And yes, there are some things that I didn’t like and some numbers that I missed, but overall I thought the movie was fantastic.

And as they brought up in the Q&A they were able to do many things in the film that you can’t do on stage. For example, how they filmed ‘Steps of the Palace’ was brilliant! All the special effects made you feel the magic so much more! I mean you really get to go into the woods.

Huge stands outs are the kids: Jack (Daniel Huttlestone) and Little Red (Lilla Crawford). They knocked it out of the park. Meryl is even better than you are thinking she will be. And I loved Anna as Cinderella, Emily as the Baker’s Wife, Tracey as Jack’s Mom and Christine Baranski was fantastic as the stepmother. Oh, and the 2 Princes (Chris Pine, Billy Magnussen) singing “Agony” will be a laugh out loud moment for you. We were ‪#‎DYING‬. And yes, both Princes DELIVER. ‪#‎sweetbabyjesus‬

Now, Johnny Depp’s costume is the worst thing in the film. And maybe the second worst thing for me was the fact that I just wanted him to play the wolf but he was playing Johnny Depp as ‘The Wolf’ and I was just like ‪#‎overit‬. But again I am being very picky.

The Baker (James Corden) didn’t connect for me but he had awesome moments and somebody else might really like him so I will leave it at that. I just wanted him to play it more like Chip Zien, the original Baker, but that’s probably just me.

The thing that I mentioned to my partner after the film was that I just feel the original material is so perfect, every lyric, every verse – it is structured so perfectly. And when you trim (which you HAVE to do for film) you lose some of the depth. So, some of the moments near the end don’t have the impact that you need because you had to short change some of the earlier scenes.

And then some of the more “violent” moments were lessened or rather done off screen and I thought that was a poor choice. I think the dark tones of Act 2 really build when you see the Steward hit Jack’s Mom over the head which kills her. The stakes are raised immediately in that unexpectedly violent action and you need to see it. In the film they cheapen the whole moment so it isn’t as dark but I think you need the darkness…

But let me be clear I am being picky right now because the film is that good. We all remember what a piece of shit Les Mis was and this brings us right back to the Chicago days. If you’re a theater person (or not), this movie should be at the top of your list this holiday season and I think you will really love it.

It’s A Suggestion, Not A Review: Ashland Round Up

Dave Sikula returns from the wild world of Ashland.

The wife and I recently returned from a trip to Ashland. Now, this does certainly not make us unique. I’d venture to say that a good portion of my constant readers (especially those in the Bay Area) have been there, and more than once. This trip was either my third or fifth (depending on how you count). I’ve seen shows there only three times, but auditioned there twice. (It obviously didn’t take – yet. I’m determined to go back, though.) It’s odd that I’ve been there only a few times. I went to grad school in Eugene, only a couple of hours north. I just never made the effort to see anything.

There was no particular reason for this; I mean, I had no enmity against them. In fact, I had great respect for what they do, even (years and years and years ago – before some of you were even born, I’ll wager) sending them a copy of my translation of Chekhov’s The Three Sisters (getting a very encouraging letter from Jerry Turner, the then-Artistic Director).

My experiences at Ashland have been hit-and-miss. A pretty good Hamlet (with a very good central performance), one of the worst Sea Gulls I’ve ever seen (which makes me kind of glad, in retrospect, that nothing ever came of my own translation. Remind me to talk about my theories about Chekhov sometime.) On this trip, though, we were four-for-four. We saw a very good and touching production of Water by the Spoonful, a fast-paced, lively – and actually funny – Comedy of Errors, the great Jack Willis giving a towering performance as Lyndon Johnson in The Great Society, and – the whole reason for going – a damn-near-perfect production of The Cocoanuts.

Here, watch for yourself.

Anyone who knows me will know how much I love the Marx Brothers. The book I’ve read the most is Joe Adamson’s Groucho, Harpo, Chico, and Sometimes Zeppo. It’s probably the definitive book on the brothers and their work. In previous installments (if not on the Theatre Pub blog, then certainly on my own blog), I’ve discussed how, prior to the current era of video on demand, moviegoers couldn’t count on ever seeing a film more than once. If it was in the theatre, you went out and saw it. If it was on TV, you made the time to sit and watch; you couldn’t even record it. Many of us combed through the TV Guide (which was essential reading) to check the movie listings and see if anything really good was going to be on. (And if it was, it was almost always at 3:00 in the morning.)

There are six and a half great Marx Brothers movies: the five they made for Paramount (The Cocoanuts, Animal Crackers, Monkey Business, Horse Feathers, and Duck Soup), and at MGM the first one (A Night at the Opera) and some of the second one (A Day at the Races). None of the other six are worthless (though The Big Store comes close), but, in Adamson’s words, “they were never in anything as wonderful as they were.” By the early ‘70s, I’d probably seen all of them with two exceptions: Animal Crackers (which was unavailable for legal reasons) and The Cocoanuts. In checking the TV Guide, though, I saw that, after years of waiting, it was finally going to be on. But, as scheduling would have it, it was going to be on in the middle of the afternoon on a school day.

I have no memory of how I did it, but I somehow persuaded my mother to let me come home from school to watch it. I enjoyed the hell out of it (still do), and carry that memory fondly.

By all accounts, the Marxes may have been just about the biggest stars on Broadway in the days when that was the epitome of show business. With a couple of movie-star exceptions (Chaplin and Pickford), you really couldn’t get much bigger. The thing about the brothers was that every performance was apparently barely-controlled chaos and unique from any other: one night Harpo arrived late, forgot to underdress for a quick change and ended up naked on stage; songwriter Harry Ruby marched on stage one night to demand that he be given the bathrobe he’d been promised as a birthday present; ad libs outnumbered actual lines (one night, playwright George S Kaufman was standing backstage and told the person he was talking to “Quiet. I think I just heard one of my original lines”). There was no telling exactly what would happen, but whatever it was would undoubtedly be hysterically funny.

“We’re four of the Three Musketeers”

“We’re four of the Three Musketeers”

The script for both The Cocoanuts and Animal Crackers have been available for decades (I own them both), but it’s incredibly rare when someone does them – especially the former (most of Irving Berlin’s score was actually lost until the Ashland production). So when I saw they were doing Animal Crackers in Ashland, I figured I had to see it – and I ended up having one of the best evenings I’ve ever spent in the theatre. It was exactly what I wanted: full of chaos, spontaneity, ad libs, and inspired insanity. It was the next best thing to seeing the actual brothers on stage. And, on top of that, when it was announced that they’d be doing The Cocoanuts this season; well, there was no damn way I was going to miss it.

Because of my commitments to Slaughterhouse Five, we were unable to head north until the end of October. Looking at the schedule, I saw that that would be the last week of the run – and the season – so I decided we had to see the final performance, figuring that, if any performance would go off the rails (in the best way), it’d be this one. It indeed did; it was just one of those performances where I had a big stupid grin on my face for nearly three hours, just drinking in the brilliance of the writing and performances. It was one of those rare times when I went into a show with the highest of expectations and hopes, and not only where they met, but everything went to 11.

“The skies will all be blue/When my dreams come true” – and they did.

The thing I most came away with from that weekend, though, was getting a sense of Ashland. It was the first extended period I’d spent in the town, and I could really see how it’s all focused on the festival (for good reason, but still …). Everything downtown seems to have some relation to what’s going on at the theatres; that the people in town have seen the productions and can talk about them intelligently; that the stores are doing more than selling books and tchotchkes that have a “Ye Olde” vibe. There’s a real sense of pride as to what the Festival means – and does – that I’ve never felt in another city, not even Stratford-Upon-Avon. It’s a real theatre-based town and economy that made me want to work there and become part of that experience.

Downtown Ashland

Downtown Ashland

It’s something I can’t imagine in another town or city. Theatre is either a minor or nonexistent part of most peoples’ lives in the Bay Area. The people I work with don’t go (they barely go to movies, let alone live non-musical performances), and certainly wouldn’t recognize names like Sarah Ruhl or Theresa Rebeck, let alone Eugene O’Neill or Tennessee Williams. (Hell, they barely know movies or television shows that are more than five years old.)

Now, I hasten to add, I don’t think these people are stupid or poorly educated – at least, in areas that don’t relate to the arts. It’s just that so many of our communities ignore the arts – performing and visual – that to say they ignore them is a vast minimization. They don’t know them in the way they don’t know what the best bakery in Montevideo is; it just doesn’t exist for them. That’s what was so exhilarating about being in Ashland. There was a sense that not only is everyone aware of, and pulling for, what’s happening with the Festival; it’s that it matters to them.

And realizing that was simultaneously frustrating, sad – and inspiring.

In For a Penny: Running in Place

Charles Lewis III, reflecting.

“We have so much time and so little to do. Strike that, reverse it.”
– Willy Wonka, Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory

I had an entirely different entry planned for today. I’d been working on it since I’d finished my last entry. It was going to be about the labels used to identify us as artists, those we choose for ourselves and those often placed upon us. It was going to be about how those labels can simultaneously be a help and hindrance, how the definition of each label seems to change on a daily basis, how frustrating it can be to constantly be typecast as one particular sort when you have a menagerie of other sorts trapped inside you just bursting to get free. But I’m not gonna write that one; not yet anyway.

You see, like all of you, I read Allison’s most recent piece and it resonated with me. After reading it I was suddenly struck by the fact that once I’ve finished this Saturday’s performance in the Olympians Festival, I’ll be done performing for 2014. Given that I hit a stride and have been working for almost a year straight – which came right on the heels similarly prolific years – you think I’d be glad to finally have a proper break. It’s right at the start of December and the rain has finally arrived, so I can spend the final month of 2014 catching up on my reading, doing a helluva lot of writing, and binge-watching to my heart’s content as El Niño promises to finally lift us from this drought.

So why do I feel like a kid lost in the middle of an airport?

like this, but with less Wilmer Valdaramma

like this, but with less Wilmer Valdaramma

Maybe it’s because there’s nothing solid for me on the horizon. Yes, I’ll be writing in next year’s Olympians, but I’ve got nothing locked down performance-wise. Even in my “down” years, I’d have at least two or three projects for the next year set in place by December. Hell, that’s usually one of the first questions on the audition form: “Are you free this time next year?” And when those down years did come (and boy, did they), I took comfort in the fact that those few solid projects were assurance that I hadn’t been completely forgotten by the performing arts community at large. ‘Cause let’s be honest: when you go to see a friend in show after show as your Inbox fills with rejection e-mails from directors, it doesn’t take long for your mind to go from “Maybe I should find a better monologue?” to “Oh God, am I the redheaded stepchild of local theatre without anyone telling me?”

I’m the sort of person who finds it really hard to brag, so I tend to downplay even the good things that come into my life: an unexpected financial windfall; a date that goes really well; and even an audition for a company and/or director whom I admire. Even when those things do happen for me, I take a pretty Zen approach to them and try not to get too excited because I know they might not last. I don’t do that for the pure sake of pessimism, but rather to give myself a little long-term perspective.

Which is really stupid, I know, but it actually has given me the ability to brace myself for unforeseen rejections. The trade-off is that there are times – though not always, I’m glad to say – when I can’t seem to enjoy the blessing right in front of me.

The flip-side to that is a mistake I’ve made far too often: accepting work I knew I wouldn’t like just so I had something to do. Two years ago I was cast in a project that I regretted almost immediately. It was for a well-renowned local company and respected director. I got along with the cast – one member of which I knew beforehand – and a few of the backstage folks were people who I’d worked well with before. But I wasn’t fond of the script, which I had a chance to read before the audition. Furthermore, the director and I did not see eye-to-eye. At all. Apparently every little thing I did was wrong and she had an incredibly condescending way of telling me so. When I was finally able to get out of the production, it was less “Damn, I blew my chance to work with a beloved company and director” and more “This is why you shouldn’t accept every fucking role you’re offered just because you like being busy!”

A sobering lesson that I haven’t forgotten. Now whenever I feel unsure of a project, but feel I should take part anyway “just for the experience”, I have a mental crossing guard with a big “Stop” sign telling me to look both ways first.

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Last night I got to see a friend of mine perform as part of the Olympians Fest. I haven’t seen her on stage in over a year, so it was a nice surprise to watch her in action again. I’ve always admired her variety of skills and her spot-on timing. As those of us who follow her on social media know: she has a life outside of theatre. A really good life, at that. I mention that because I think our biggest fear is that when we aren’t busy on That One Thing we feel is most important, then we probably think that life is passing us by. I know I did. It took me quite a long time to think otherwise. I can’t tell the future, so I don’t know if the coming year will bring me as many projects as this year – let alone so many as artistically fulfilling – but I now know that I don’t have to worry about that yet. I’ve been given something most people would kill for: time off. Maybe I should try to enjoy it.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve been so busy with all this theatre shit that I’m only at the halfway point of 2666 and it’s really starting to get gruesome.

You can see Charles Lewis’ final theatre production of the year this Saturday as part of the closing night of the SF Olympians Festival. The festival runs tonight through Saturday at The EXIT Theatre. http://www.sfolympians.com.

Everything Is Already Something Week 46: I Don’t Feel Bad About Saying I’m Busy

Allison Page, taking time out of her busy schedule.

There’s this hot new trend the internets is on a kick about, which is that people who say they are busy – people who ARE really busy – are doing something wrong – which I completely disagree with. Initially I thought, “Yeah, I mean, a lot of us do a lot. A lot of us do too much. I try to keep it in check, but here we are. Maybe you’re right.” and then, as things always do, it sort of escalated and now I’ve read an article containing this:

“I want to know how your heart is doing, at this very moment. Tell me. Tell me your heart is joyous, tell me your heart is aching, tell me your heart is sad, tell me your heart craves a human touch.”

OH, DO YOU? Have you ever asked someone how they were doing and wanted that response?

A: “How are you doing?”
B: “My heart craves a human touch.”
A: …*silently sips coffee*

Here’s what’s going on in this, for me: I’m not busy doing shit I hate. I’m busy making things I’m passionate about. That’s true for most of the people I associate with. When I say “How are you doing?” or “What are you up to?” or “What’s new?” essentially what I’m saying is “So what are you working on?!” and I don’t think that’s a terrible thing. Actually, it’s less that I say that I’m busy and more that other people say “It seems like you’re really busy!” – thanks, Facebook. (Clearly not Facebook’s fault, clearly my fault for talking about what I’m doing ON Facebook, but let’s not quibble over the details, shall we?) I love hearing about other people’s projects. I know that my friends are busy – I don’t know – MAKING ART. And I understand that it’s time-consuming and soul-consuming and consuming-consuming and that’s not always easy. In fact, it rarely is. But I have to believe we’re doing it for a reason, and the reason is that we want the things we’re making to exist in the world and we won’t be satisfied until they do. Maybe that’s a lot of pressure to put on yourself, but I think you’d be hard-pressed to find an artist who doesn’t believe that they’re making something vital or at the very least something which will effect someone in some way that they consider important. God, does this sound pretentious? I really don’t know. It’s fine if it does. Yes, I am busy doing things I care about – but I also take time (in the fleeting moments I find) to have leisurely coffee and/or brunch dates with friends and talk for hours about anything and everything (but seriously though, it’s often still about the stuff we’re making) before I head back into a crazy sprint of producing/directing/acting/writing something. I love doing that, and I do think it’s important.

If there’s one person whose work ethic I admire the most, it would be Mae West. Clearly she’s not getting a lot done now because she’s extremely dead but when she was alive and kicking she did more than most would think possible. And she was proud of that. By day, glamorous and showy and appearing potentially frivolous – by night, writing, writing, writing, rehearsing, revising, painstakingly perfecting her material and her persona. Her unprecedented success wasn’t an accident. She worked for it every day since childhood and cared about it so much that she was willing to go through truckloads of trouble to see that her work existed, including being arrested – more than once.

The only woman you can make out on the left? That's her. This is from the trial concerning her play The Pleasure Man which was accused of being "immoral" and "indecent". The cast of 56 were arrested and carted away from the theater at which they were performing.

The only woman you can make out on the left? That’s her. This is from the trial concerning her play The Pleasure Man which was accused of being “immoral” and “indecent”. The cast of 56 were arrested and carted away from the theater at which they were performing.

So yes, she was pretty busy. Clearly I’m not Mae West, but I do care passionately about doing exactly what I want.

Or maybe I’m just not a person who can sit around and talk about her heart. Maybe I’ve got too much of my dad’s genes and want to sip a beer and say that yoga, chiropractors, and therapy are “Just bullshit run by shysters.” (I don’t really think that, but he sure does. Okay, except for yoga. I hate yoga.) In spite of popular belief, yeah, I do have feelings. I tap into them the most in my work. Oh, did that sound bad? I’m having trouble with my own tone today. Maybe I sound like a heartless douche.

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Yeah, I’m tired sometimes. I will freely admit that the last two months have been a bit much, as everyone close to me knows. But I also don’t regret any of it, because I really cared about what I was doing.

Maybe this whole thing is about needing to stop and smell the roses sometimes, and I just feel like what I’m busy with…IS the roses.

Yeah, no, that was definitely kind of pretentious. But that’s just how my heart is feeling, you know?

Allison Page is an actor/writer/director/busy person in San Francisco who is booked for an entire year but will still make time to consume both caffeine and alcohol with the people she cares about at odd times of the day when she happens to be free.

The Five: Dear TBA Awards, It’s Not You, It’s Me: An existential crisis in five parts.

Anthony R. Miller checks in with his adventures at the TBA awards.

I have no business leaving the house tonight.

The situation was this: Terror-Rama had been closed for about a week. I was still pretty exhausted and drained. I’m the kind of person who needs a significant amount of alone time, especially after having to be Mr. Social for days on end. The 4 day weekend had granted me the ability to finally put my house back together. And then I remembered “Oh no, I have the TBA awards ”. A wave of anxiety swept over me. I had committed over a month ago, it seemed like a good idea at the time. But here I was, fully nested and liking it. I hadn’t left the house in 2 days and was pretty happy about it. At that moment leaving terrified me. But dammit, I said I was going! There was a ticket waiting for me. If I didn’t go, my friend was out the price. So if I didn’t go, I’m a dick. Broke and feeling very introverted, the next thing I know I’m ironing my suit jacket. Fun Fact about me, the better I dress, the less confident I’m actually feeling. Take that supermarket magazine isle advice column clichés! I combed my hair but it didn’t help. I was longing to be back in my PJs ordering cheap pizza and binge watching Rescue Me before I left the apartment.

All alone while in a room full of friends.

I take my seat amongst my fellow TheatrePub bloggers up in the Himalayas, because apparently Tier 3 isn’t just a voting designation, it’s a seating section. I look around and realize I know everybody here. I have worked with, done a show with, seen a show of, or served wine to everyone in the building. And hey, I’m a theatre guy, these are my peers, this is my community. In spite of that, I felt like I had no business being there. I mean who was I? Why the fuck do I feel like I’m crashing the prom right now? I was feeling like a square peg in a round peg world. I know it’s not rational, especially when I’m basically at a convention for square pegs. But for whatever reason, I just felt irrelevant. I found myself feeling like not only did I have no business going out tonight, I had no business being there.

Fuck this, I’m bored.

About 30 minutes into the proceedings, I started to feel claustrophobic. This is probably because I was sitting in the dead center of the 2nd to last row, trapped amongst people. And while I was amusing myself pretty well by making snarky comments about, well, EVERYTHING. My bad mood was starting to take effect. Things I would regularly like, I loathed. People I regularly care about felt tedious to communicate with. Someone is singing “Marry Me A Little”?, shoot me! Why did I hate all of it? I love that song; I love the woman singing it! Why does everything suck right now? And I was freaking out a little. But I couldn’t just leave, after all, I felt obligated to be there, this is the community I want to be part of, why aren’t I enjoying their party? Like I mentioned earlier, I was broke. So I couldn’t just drink until it was fun. Besides, if throwing back a few drinks was the only thing making the night tolerable (including me), that might be a problem in itself. So I tucked my jacket under my seat and headed out to the lobby, I figured at least I could watch on the TV screen and feel alone with more leg room.

The places you have come to fear the most.

In the lobby was my savior of the night, my dear old friend Chloe. She had no interest in going back either, so I decided to hang out with her and just smile at the people who were happy to see her. Fuck she is popular, I’m pretty sure she knows everyone here too. But the difference is that she was able to appear happy to see all of them. Maybe she actually was, I dunno. A big part of theatre is putting on a show, socially. I’m perfectly capable of schmoozing, but not tonight. I didn’t have it in me. For me, the energy it takes to be a social person has to be built up over time, and my batteries were not recharged. Like my phone, I left the house at 50%, now I’m somewhere around 20%. So I guess this is one time, (Sing it with me):

“THAT YOU CAN’T FAKE IT HARD ENOUGH TO PLEASE EVERYONE, OR ANYONE AT ALL”.

I had nothing to offer anyone there, which made me start to think maybe I didn’t have anything offer ever. Why am I so shitty at the game? One of the hardest things to balance is the fact that writing and producing isn’t enough, there’s a million social obligations. I suck at social obligations; all I really want to do is hide in my office and write. How do all these people do it? Everyone seems like they’re happy to be there and they all seem to be part of something. Meanwhile, I’m just standing here waiting for someone to validate me. Imagine feeling something like that at an award show. Okay, Okay, I get it, I’m probably not the only one!

I’m a loner Dottie, a rebel

So what does this all mean? Essentially I’ve just written “Anthony was having a bad day”. But it was bigger than that. It made me take a long look at myself and ask “why the fuck Am I here?” I want to feel like a part of this, but this doesn’t seem like the way to do it. I’d rather just do my thing. Put on good shows, be kind to people, create great experiences for people. That appeals more to me than going to every party, seeing every show. And while I think it’s important to make social appearances and show that you care, maybe being a schmoozer isn’t my style. The only times I have succeeded, I mean truly kicked ass, was when I tossed away the rulebook and did it my way. I embrace my square peggedness. And you know what? I don’t like award shows. When the Sex Pistols got inducted to the Rock & Roll hall of fame, they didn’t go, they just wrote a letter saying awards were stupid and if the Sex Pistols showed up, then they wouldn’t be the Sex Pistols. , I don’t do this for a trophy, though I would absolutely put one on my tchotchke shelf alongside my Judy Garland mug, the picture of my daughter, and the Ninja Turtle figurine. I’d probably do just fine at the acceptance speech to, I’m not shy- but I’d have to hide in a room after, as it would use up every ounce of extroversion I possessed that week. And I like recognition as much as the next person. I think recognizing these incredibly talented people is important. BUT, I also recognize when I’m not good at something. So I didn’t have a great time, and that’s not your fault TBA awards. But it seems like I gotta do this my way, not that I have any idea what that is yet. Can we consider live streaming it next year? I’ll host, but I’m not promising I won’t cut out periodically to watch funny parody videos on YouTube

Anthony R. Miller is a writer, director, producer and shameless theatre tickets salesman. His show, Zombie! The Musical! Live in Concert! Performs for one night only at Terra Gallery on Dec 14th.

The Real World, Theater Edition: Interview with Jonathan Spector of Just Theater

Barbara Jwanouskos chats up Jonathan Spector, Artistic Director of Just Theatre and a long-time new work advocate in the Bay Area.

Barbara Jwanouskos: What’s your connection with the Bay Area? How are you involved in its theater scene?

Jonathan Spector: I wear and have worn a lot of hats in the theater scene here – which is one of the things I love about this area, that it allows you to do that. I arrived in the Bay Area thinking of myself very much as a director, and still am, though increasingly my own artistic energies are put towards writing. I’m the co-artistic director of Just Theater, and if I’m actually measuring how I spend my time, the truth is the lion’s share these days is with the artistic directors hat on doing all manner of producing, grant-writing, development, marketing etc. I’m not entirely happy about that, but finding ways to make it work.

My company also runs a New Play Lab, which is developing a new play by, among other people, Barbara Jwanouskos.

For many years I was on staff at Playwrights Foundation, where I was a Literary Manager and dramaturg producer and general playwright advocate, and while I was there I was able to work with an endless stream of amazing writers, which was tremendously exciting and edifying.

Jonathan Spector

Babs: Do you think making theater in the San Francisco Bay Area is different than other places? (How so or how not so or both?)

JS: The only other area I know well is New York, where I lived for five years before coming here. I grew up in the DC area, and am familiar with that scene, but have never really been a part of it.

New York is kind of its own thing in terms of theater – I have the sense making theater in the Bay Area is much more like making theater in DC or Boston or Austin than it is in New York. There’s a whole bunch of complicated reasons why this is the case but the two that I think about the most are 1) that almost everyone I knew who made theater in New York (in the “downtown” theater world) was largely making it for other artists. That’s who they were in conversation with. And then if a show got a good Times review this huge other audience would just kind of materialize out of nowhere (at least this was my impression – I was in my early 20s, so probably missed a lot of what was actually happening). Out here, there’s a much more real and actual sense of having a conversation with an audience. You need to, if you’re going to survive as a theater. I mean the kind of relationship say, Shotgun has with its audience, that’s an amazing and special and real thing and so much more interesting and meaningful than just talking to other artists.

This cuts both ways. The richness of conversation amongst the artists, the sense of wanting to make something that all these other people you admire will think is exciting, because of how big and complex that downtown community is, is a large part of why there’s so much exciting work in NYC. But it’s also easy for that to tip into navel-gazing and solipsism if you don’t ever worry about the average non-artist person enjoying or getting anything out of your work.

The other big point is about opportunity and pressure. In New York, there was always a sense that maybe this thing would lead to that thing would lead to another. And it’s not a total fantasy – look at HAND TO GOD, which started as a little downtown show then got remounted at MCC and now is going to Broadway. It doesn’t happen often, but it can happen. And this sense of possibility contributes to a feeling that everyone is generally bringing their A-game into rehearsal.

Whereas here, there’s nowhere to go. I mean, our last show, A MAZE had just about the very best result one could have from a show – we did it in a lesser known venue, it got a great response, got remounted with a somewhat bigger company, got great reviews, sold out most of its run and then…that’s it. Good show, onto the next one. There’s never a possibility of a next step (although maybe this too is changing, with SF Playhouse starting to bring shows to New York…)

And all that other stuff being said, I’m much much happier being here. It’s just a much more livable place and I find deep satisfaction in being part of this community.

The last thing to say about the Bay Area is that it’s maybe unique in how spread out it is. I mean, we consider San Jose and Marin and Oakland to all be part of one community and in a sense we all are – we share many of the same artists who put many many miles on their cars. BUT, I’m also increasingly feeling like these communities are pretty separate. I’m embarrassed to admit that beyond the occasional TheatreWorks show, I’ve only seen one other South Bay show the whole time I’ve lived here. I’ll certainly make the trip into the city to see something at Crowded Fire or Z Space or Cutting Ball, but if I’m just going to go to a show on the spur of the moment, I’m much more likely to stay in the East Bay. Which is maybe a long-winded way of saying that there’s a way in which we’re actually a bunch of separate but connected communities, rather than one big one. I mean this whole SF Theater Pub community that you guys have is something that’s totally foreign to me because I just don’t venture into SF all that much. It seems like that’s one scene, and then we have an East Bay scene, and of course there’s lots of back and forth, but they’re not exactly all the same thing. And I think that’s true across a lot of different spectrums.

I’m also very curious about how this plays out over the next decade or so as San Francisco becomes completely unaffordable and anyone young and eager and new moves to the area.

Babs: How do you stay active as a playwright (or theater artist in general)?

JS: I think being able to shift off between things – so when the writing is going really terribly, I can just think about producing, or maybe directing or vice versa. And having regular opportunities to get to work on stuff with other people – readings or workshops are crucial since I can only really work effectively when I have a deadline.

Through Just Theater’s New Play Lab has lots of great deadlines, and I’m also a Resident Playwright at Playwrights Foundation, which has some as well. I submit to lots and lots of things, so some small percentage of those turn in to actual things I get to do, which give me more structure and deadlines.

Babs: How do you balance your theater/artistic goals with other life priorities?

JS: Not as well as I should.

Babs: What are you working on now?

JS: At the moment, I’m mostly consumed with producing IN FROM THE COLD, but I have two other plays in various stages. One is called ADULT SWIM and is a kind of magic realism play about teenage lifeguards that takes place at a swimming pool. We did a workshop of it this summer that Jon Tracy directed for PlayGround, and it was a lot of fun. I’d love to find a swimming pool where we could produce it. I’m also working on this piece called FTW, which sort of about female friendship and gentrification, with these three girls who just graduated from college and move into an apartment together and are very enthusiastic and idealistic and horrible. We did a reading of it in the Just Theater Lab, and it’ll have another reading soon.

Then there’s the play I’m supposed to be writing for the Lab this year, but have done absolutely no work on since our last meeting. Also I think I’m supposed to write a one-minute play by tomorrow, so I should get on that.

Two Guys

Babs: How did IN FROM THE COLD come to be?

JS: A couple years ago, I learned that this person who had been maybe the biggest spy in the cold war had lived for many years in secret in these townhouses across the street from my high school in the DC suburbs. He was literally #1 on the KGB hitlist for many years, and there was something very disorienting to me about the combination of this high-stakes life and death stuff overlapping with the kind of ultimate banality of the place I grew up. So that was sort of the jumping off point, and I wrote it over the course of about six months in the Just Theater Lab, and then it had a couple readings, in Aurora’s Global Age Project and at Playwrights Foundation, and then we got a grant for it so we decided to produce with my company.

I was a hesitant about us producing it, because it’s not exactly the kind of work that my company typically produces – it’s a little more of a regular play play, but everybody in the company wanted us to do it, so we did. It’s funny – a couple years ago I was having dinner with Thomas Bradshaw and sheepishly confessed that I had started writing plays. And he was like “so you’re gonna produce your work then, right?” And I said in all sincerity that I didn’t know if we would, since this thing I was writing wasn’t necessarily a typical Just Theater show. To which he said, “You’re a liar. You have a theater company. You’re gonna produce your own plays.” So maybe it was inevitable.

And then of course there is this strange lag time between writing a play and having it produced. This was only the second full length play I’d written, and I finished the first draft about three years ago. I think my writing has evolved a fair bit since then, so it’s very strange to sit in rehearsal and think, “I would never write something like this now”. But you also have to respect the thing that it is, and try to make the best version of that rather than trying to completely rewrite it to be something more like what you would write at this moment if you were starting from scratch, since that’s just an endless hamster wheel you can never get off of.

Babs: What is the best or worst advice you’ve been given as a playwright?

JS: One thing that an agent told me once that I think is very true is that theater is it’s a one to one business. That the way you build a career as a playwright isn’t by having a big hit show that everyone loves, but by one person reading your work and liking it and wanting to advocate for you and then another and then another. It’s a series of one on one relationships that develop over time.

This is great to remember because it takes a lot of the pressure off any individual show or reading being too important, because even if it’s a disaster, in the long run that’s not what matters. On the other hand, it also means that the thing that does matter – other people liking your writing – is almost completely out of your control. All you can do is write the plays and get them out there.

The other thing I think about a lot that I also thing is really true is the notion that writing is basically like exercising – the idea of doing it is horrible, actually doing it is okay, and you feel great once you’ve done it. I find it helpful to remember that for so many of us, including many writers I admire, writing is just this awful, painful, unnatural thing that part of your brain will do anything to avoid.

For instance, I sometimes get together with the other PF Resident Playwrights to ostensibly just sit together and write, but I’d say probably 50% of our time is spent talking about how much we procrastinate and avoid writing. There’s solace in remembering you’re not alone in this.

Babs: Any words of wisdom for other playwrights trying to develop their craft, get produced and make connections with other theater people?

JS: Find the work you like, and find ways to hang with the people making it – volunteer, assist, stuff envelopes, whatever. Read lots of plays and see lots of plays. Send your work out.

Babs: Anything else you would like to share, plug or shout-out?

JS: In From The Cold runs through November 23rd at Live Oak Theater in Berkeley. TBA members can get $15 tix. We have a stellar cast. Julian Lopez-Morillas, Harold Pierce, Sarah Moser, Seton Brown and David Saniako. Christine Young directed. Everybody’s doing terrific work.

The next Just Theater show comes up right after and is this completely jaw-dropping piece called We Are Proud to Present… by Jackie Sibblies Drury. This show is not to be missed. Seriously. It’s one of the best plays of the past ten years, and I think all the bigger theaters in town were kind of scared of it (with good reason – it completely terrifies me), so we ended up getting to do the Bay Area Premiere. We’re partnering with Shotgun on it, and it’ll run Feb – March.

Also in February, Anne Washburn’s play Mr. Burns is at ACT. It’s sheer genius. Go see it. And Peter Nachtrieb’s got a new show that’s about to open at Z Below, which is sure to be hilarious.

In From The Cold

You can find out more about Just Theater’s work on their website, http://www.justtheater.org. Jonathan’s play, IN FROM THE COLD will be at the Live Oak Theater in Berkeley for two more weekends.

Barbara Jwanouskos is a playwright and blogger. She is part of Just Theater’s New Play Lab this season and will be presenting a one-minute play during the 5th Annual One-Minute Play Festival on Dec. 15-16. Follow her on twitter @bjwany.