Wednesday, July 14, 2004

 

Shilling

Since I am in plugging mode, here's one for all my Washington D.C. area readers (Hi Dad and Terry).

This time I boost my friend Jenny Klion and her short play, Stake Bite, part of the Bad Girls III summer festival at Venus Theatre.

Jenny's a former circus performer, and her play has a good weird dose of that world in it.


Venus Theatre presents:
Bad Girls III: The Redemption

at the Warehouse Theatre Blackbox
1021 7th St., NW
Washington, D.C.
(Chinatown & Mt. Vernon Metro Stops)

August 19 - September 12
Wed. - Sat. @ 7:30
Sun. @ 3:30
reservations: email deb@venustheatre.com or call 301-470-2406 ext. 4

posted by Dan 10:42 AM
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Tuesday, July 13, 2004

 

Bold

Once again, I failed to mention the Imua! Theatre Company production before it opened.

This one is big: The Greeks, playing now through August 5th. It's a cycle of 10 Greek plays centered around the Trojan War. It's two nights long. See just one, see two in two nights, see it all on a Saturday marathon, but don't be scared. It looks good.

posted by Dan 1:08 PM
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Dear Theater Companies:

Recently this incident came to my attention. A company produced playwright Charles Deemer's work and didn't bother to tell him. This wasn't a company from East Ignoramus, either. This was a company from right here in the NY of C, staffed by theatre weenies that almost certainly knew better.

Why did they do that? Because they didn't want to pay royalties? I'm going to let you in on the dirty little secret of our profession, and this will probably get my license revoked: we're cheap dates. Oh sure, if you're the Guthrie, we're going to ask for full royalties and a nice motel room that doesn't face the interstate. If -- on the other hand -- you're a rinky-dink troupe fueled by dreams and blood donations, we're not going to ask for much. A sawbuck and the press materials would be nice. In the end, it's just nice to see our play produced.

The last show I produced, I paid a pittance in royalties. The writers were thrilled anyway, to the point where they were asking to help with the production. Let me reiterate, I was offering these writers gum. A two-week performance in a third-floor theater with minimal production value. Enough money for one night's bender. They were upbeat and supportive. Because, as I said before, they just want their friggin play produced.

Perhaps you've had some bad luck with agents or estates. Then write directly to us. Explain your situation. We're understanding. We've been there. We'll work with you. What's that? Sam Shepherd burned you once? Well, he's famous. We're not. Believe it or not, most playwrights aren't famous. Therefore, we would just like our ding-dang play produced.

Now I know that there aren't a dozen unauthorized productions of my plays happening out there, like Charles has. His scripts are available on-line, and mine aren't. Also, he's good. But if it ever were to happen, I would be disheartened, because one thing that keeps me from eating my Glock is my memory of productions past. To miss out one would be profoundly disappointing.

Because (say it with me) I JUST WANT MY PLAY PRODUCED.

Yours Despairingly,

Dan

posted by Dan 11:18 AM
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Monday, July 12, 2004

 

I Ain't Lost It Yet!

I actually have some great ideas to write about! A genius like me is practically vomiting topics!

Actually, I'd like to recommend a series by Mac Rogers on the Director-Writer relationship. It's in three parts: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3.

It's important to continue the dialogue on this, and I think -- as Mac indicates -- it's important for playwrights to hold the line against changes more often. Speaking for myself, I can sometimes be a little too accommodating when it comes to rewrites. Honestly, I'm just happy to have a production. Sometimes I'm so accommodating that I'll rewrite without request, in order to facilitate what I see happening in the rehearsal room. This quality has its advantages, but also allows for too much compromise.

To give an outlandish, academic example: I'm having my two-character drama performed. I arrive at the first rehearsal to find that the director has cast an actor that only speaks the dead language of ancient Thrace. I'm not saying I would absolutely translate the actor's lines, but I'd definitely thumb the English/Thracian-Thracian/English dictionary.

It comes down to a two things: (1) My weakness of character, and (2) my belief that theatre is ultimately about what is happening in the moment. Lord knows that second notion is a source for endless deconstructionist sins, but it also makes sense given theatre's ephemeral nature. You can't put a performance in a museum the way you can a painting. A book is a book, at least until it's Bowlderized. Musicians can play a piece of written music much the same as it was the first time (though there is certainly room for interpretation). Movies, it's self-evident.

A performance vanishes with the final blackout, and nothing can bring it back. So why not embrace the temporal nature of the art, and concern ourselves as artists with the immediate impulses in the rehearsal room, and not with preconceived concepts?

Before the writers scream that I'm defending directors who wildly misinterpret playwrights without even giving them the dignity of dying first, let me say that I included the phrase impulses in the rehearsal room to point out the fallacy of this argument. There is another, often-ignored impulse that influences every aspect of play production: the one that happened to the writer. It's easy to forget, because it happened somewhere far away from the rehearsal room, somewhere private and inaccessible. Nevertheless, the impulse exists on the page, hopefully, in spite of tinkering rewrites. That impulse is as important as the impulses of the other artists involved in the production. But its only defender is the playwright. If he or she doesn't attend rehearsals, or the staff disregards the writer because of a belief that writers don't understand the demands of performance, then that impulse will be lost.

That's a shame in any case, but it's doubly shameful when writers allow it to happen. I think my willingness to indulge it stems from an investment in currently-held notions that writers are disconnected from an understanding of the stage, because our work happens in front of the notebook.

The truth is, most playwrights have performed on stage. They do have some idea of what trouble they're asking for when they write a long, rambling monologue. All they want to see is if it can work or not, and they don't want to have to wait until they're Tony Kushner writing Homebody/Kabul to get the chance.

Which leads me to inform you the public of my new play, Long Rambling Monologue Because Kushner Did It.

posted by Dan 2:17 PM
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Morning Discussion

ME:
Coffee, I need a topic for the blog. What do you have for me?

COFFEE:
Hmmm...what about...a stomachache? I'll give you a stomachache.

ME:
You always do that. I need something fresh.

COFFEE:
Okay, okay, what about...more sugar?

ME:
You suggest that I write about more sugar.

COFFEE:
Put more sugar in me, and I'll come up with a topic. Two packets more.

ME:
I've put four packets in you already.

COFFEE:
Deathless prose needs lots of sugar, kid. Graham Greene said that.

ME:
No he didn't. And don't call me kid. You don't even look like my wizened, chain-smoking mentor who took a young man from the wrong side of the tracks under his wing and taught him to believe in himself.

COFFEE:
My flavor is timeless. Lose yourself in my rich, dark aroma.

BOURBON:
Hey Dan, drink me and I'll give you some great ideas.

posted by Dan 12:46 PM
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