Spring Arrives. We're Still Standing

Finally, spring. Spring -- finally! I think its really here. I though it would never come. No, really, I thought it would never come. . . I've lived in Minnesota for five years now, and I've laughed when people from outside Minnesota have asked how I could live here -- "it's so cold!" I've found the winters to be generally one month too long but pleasant and kind of pretty. . . but . . this. . . was ridiculous. . . ridiculous. I don't know how more of it I could take.

Plus, both of the critics who saw opening night have come out with their reviews and both are relatively positive. Star Tribune and City Pages. Go check yourself. I don't feel like linking. Oddly they seemed to be in conflict with each other. One guy says it was heady play but didn't hit the heart. The other guy says that the key to the play is its heart. . . I think that's kind of fun. Wish Quinton had more space since he's one who can talk for a while if you let him, and I'd love to hear more details of what he was thinking. . . But I can't complain. i thought we were going to get shredded. I really did.

A credit to the actors and director I'd say. To pull that script through. Yippee. I feel like I survived something.

Tomorrow, we have the critic who I figured from the start wouldn't like the play cause its nonlinear. We'll see if I am proven wrong yet again. That would make me happy.

Nagging Annoyances

We all know that a large portion of the media is full of shit. We call them the punditocracy. Who coined the term? The punditocracy themselves. Here's a cute little quality of the punditocracy - the people in it generally don't acknowledge that they're members of it. The person speaking is a journalist who is aware of the existence of the pundits - somewhere else.

And what do these pundit/journalists do for a living? I have no idea. They inform us that 90% of the black vote has gone to Barack Obama or Hillary was up 20% in Pennsylvania but is not up 5% or something. They tell us that older people like HIllary and younger people like Barack. Who is the audience for this information and what do they do with it? Does that fact that older people like Hillary and younger people like Barack effect my thoughts about my vote at all. I don't think it does, or it should, so who are they speaking to and why.

I suppose, in a gentle world, their job is to look at the available evidence and make broad generalizations about what is happening in this political contest in such a way that illuminates the truth of it. Except they aren't trained scientists, so they're not careful or good with evidence. They aren't trained psychologists, so they aren't careful with thoughts about motivation and effect. They aren't really expert on anything really except reporting the events of a specific day. Unfortunately, most of what happens on any given day without a primary isn't news, they make it up. Period. They make it up. They ascribe motivations to people based entirely on their own experience of the world. They generalize based on incorrect information. They read data incorrectly. They label things with shapes and numbers ("The primary in Penns depends on white male vote!" as though they are the only people who need to show up) that don't really describe anything.

And, when you point all this out to them, they rationalize, justify, and explain as though somehow you missed their brilliant point. As though somehow their job wasn't to be relevant, useful, and factually conservative. As though somehow its your fault for wanting some more reality-based information from them because they've got this wide, wide audience that love love loves what they do. Somewhere. There is an audience of intellectual kindred spirits to these narcissistic pundits somewhere. . .

What I just wrote is pretty commonly accepted as fact. Everyone with an opinion already has that opinion, including the pundits. But then, because there are people in the world who have time to be informed and like the attempt, we read some of this stuff, accidentally. How do you know whether you're reading actual journalism or nonsense until you've read it? We read some of this stuff and forget to discount it. I hate to hear regular people quoting back the accepted wisdom of the pundit class -- even though they have disdain for the pundits -- when the accepted wisdom fits in with their world view. For example, I have no idea whether Mike Huckabee is a right wing conservative whack job or not. Since I wasn't voting in the GOP primary, I figured I didn't need to know it until the general election, if it came to that, but I certainly wouldn't accept the word of the pundit class on the subject. The fact that I can't replace their conclusion with one of my own, i.e., "No he's not a right wing religious whack job. He's really a liberal in religious clothing," makes it hard to resist the allure of a definite conclusion. Nonetheless, I'd rather sit in accurate ignorance than allow nonsense that I know is nonsense to seep in to my head. I get so sad when I hear otherwise intelligent people quoting back some pundit or other who said some this thing or that when I know they know that pundits are cockroaches on the body politic -- even the ones they agree with.

Here's another angle on this media landscape where annoyance lies. The general explanation for this barren and useless landscape of crapola is that 24 hour media needs to fill time, and this is the easiest way to fill it. I buy that. That seems true. However, I also think that the people who think about this stuff publically make a fundamental miscalculation about the nature of the human creature. They think that people are motivated by entirely shallow arguments, images, and ideas because entirely shallow arguments, images, and ideas get better ratings and more click-thrus. I think/suspect/believe that this is false. I think, yes, people do enjoy watching the next train wreck that is Britney Spears life because its easy to watch and fascinating like an accident is and it doesn't really ask anything of the viewer. This doesn't mean however that people don't know it has no actual value in their life. They do know what's important and what's not important. Time spent watching or reading about something, when measured in minutes or seconds is indicative of nothing about the psychology of a person.

For example, I read the article about Barack Obama's bowling because it was cute and it was quick and it was everywhere. I probably read it as soon as I saw the headline because I had a couple minutes I was looking to waste online between other tasks. The article about his tax policy in comparison to Hillary's tax policy, which was an incredible and wonderful example of excellent journalism that everyone I mention it to remembers, I may not have read as soon as I saw it. I knew it was going to take me longer to read. I knew it was going to involve some thought. So I saved it until I had the time. This resistance to the more difficult articles doesn't convey some shallowness on my part nor does it convey that I thought Obama's bowling score was more important than his tax policy because I read about it quicker. It simply conveys the obvious fact that shallow is shallow and deep is deep. Shallow is easier, yes, by its own nature -- not because the audience for it needs, wants, demands easy. It doesn't seem to occur to anyone that we all do kind of know the difference between important and unimportant. And we value that different. It doesn't mean that we can't enjoy unimportant at the same time.

Another kind of example, pundits attributed Hillary Clinton's success in New Hampshire to the fact that she teared up. Isn't it entirely possible that her success in New Hampshire was attributed to the fact that the people who voted for her liked her policy, her person, and her approach more than they liked Obama? Perhaps they're responses to interview questions aren't as illuminating as reporters want them to be but "regular voters" aren't reporters. They're under no obligation to be articulate about their responses to things.

Why do I keep typing this morning? I believe that people do enjoy both shallow and deep thoughts. And salty and sweet foods. I think the fact that people press the shallow button more than they press the deep button isn't a reflection of their needs and desires but instead a simple reflection that shallow is an easier button to press than deep. I wish we could acknowledge this. I think there is money to be made in this. People actually want deep and important with their shallow and stupid. Won't someone give them both? Please.

It annoys me, I guess, that I'd like a little importance in my culture and can't find it anywhere.

Second Night

Saturday night was good, I think.

Friday was like a preview, I guess, with critics in attendance.

Theater is weird.

Wow

Our opening night happened last night.

Wow. We had a checklist in our head of all the things that could go wrong, and they did and more. The third sound cue was off. Then, in the first two pages of dialogue, one of the actors skipped two pages. The pace was sluggish. By the third scene, the cue for the video didn't work (the stage manager accidentally hit eject instead of play on the dvd). One of the props broke. One of the actors got really quiet. in the middle of the second act, the live camera went off. The lines kept getting confused. The sound board operator didn't know where the actors were in the script. Wow.

I've actually never seen anything like it. No - that's not true. In grad school, I wrote a ten minute play in which the main actor went up on his lines after the very first sentence and the rest of the performance was a mash of people tossing out lines frantically trying to find the end. That was pretty bad. That was probably worse - though shorter.

Regardless, the actors and technicians muddled through. They picked up the pace at times. Some moments were quite nice. Everything was a surprise for the audience, so they seemed to be intrigued. It's good to get this performance out of the way. Tonight, I expect will be far better. I hope.

I don't know whether the actual production was an enjoyable experience for the audience. It went as well as possible under the circumstances.

I don't know why we do live theater except to teach ourselves that life is chaos and unpredictable and learn how to deal with that fact.

I'm not whining or complaining. I know no one except Emily Gunyou and someone in connectticut reads this blog but its still important for me to say that I'm not complaining. We do what we do. I think the actors succeeded in certain ways. It's just very hard to see the play when you're tracking all the mistakes.

I don't mean to sound like I'm publicly casting aspersions or blame. I don't really feel angry or upset. Too bad there were critics there because they could have seen a better show, but . . . Well, this is what live theater is like. I just can't recall such a nerve-wracking experience in the theater with so many people watching.

I thought I might have been due for a real mind-blowing experience. And I think we'll get one tonight. or we might. We can keep striving for it. Theater is like life that way. Put the mistakes behind you and go forward but wow. All I can say is wow. What an experience that was.

It's very hard play to do. Perfection is impossible. Even though it isn't really a respected endeavor in our culture, I take some comfort in knowing how hard we're working and how hard what we're attempting to do actually is. Create people and stories on stage, three-dimensional truthful things full of passion and hope and drama. And do it right every time. I suppose, right now, now that I've written word here, I kind of get a kick out of how crazy our opening night was. It's funny in its way. Wow. For a relatively small number of people, we put our heart and soul on the line and let the imperfection of life smack us around a little. It's kind of gorgeous in its uselessness. The passionate belief in something that will always fall short of perfection, the desperate attempt to create perfection where you know you will fail, somehow this excites my imagination actually.

Now that I'm typing it, I think this opening night is one I will always remember fondly. Huh. Yeah. Fondly. It's an incredible thing to muddle through while circumstances work against you. It really is. . . Now that I think about it, I couldn't be more proud of the technicians and the actors.

A few nights ago, in reference to something else, I said to Leah "It's not the mistakes you make, it's how you deal with those mistakes that matter." Is that fatalistic? I don't know. i like the line. I like learning it and watching it.

Of course, I'd prefer it if tonight was a much smoother performance but I'm starting to think there is something ennobling about failure. Is that crazy? Fatalistic? Depressive? Maybe I should see a therapist and start enjoying the bright side of life.

Anyway, it was one hell of an opening night.

Show Nerves

"Everywhere Signs Fall" has the final rehearsal tonight. The actors asked to cancel the preview, so they could take one more crack at finding the right rhythm.

They aren't where they are supposed to be yet, but I believe they'll get it. They're smart actors. All of them have incredible stage presence. They like the play. They tell the story. They have all brought unique intelligent interpretations to the role. My biggest fear right now is that Friday night, they'll still be worrying about keeping track of all the complicated threads of the play, and they won't be able to lost themselves in the rolls. These are roles that will only work if they just run with them. Run is the operative word.

Last night, I was almost overwhelmed with anxiety. They did a second dress run-thru and it was far more clear and interesting than the Tuesday night run-thru, but with all the strange elements in the play, if it doesn't feel urgent, if the characters don't feel like they're running (without the actors indicating franticness or something) then it may just feel wordy, long, and melodramatic. Interesting in places. Nice moments in places but uneven and strange and unsatisfying.

On the other hand, I've got to believe that if they get the right rhythm and that rhythm just takes over, then people will have an enjoyable -- if somewhat confusing ride.

I don't know that there is middle ground with this play. Total commitment or not.

Oddly, with this play, I can get myself to relax a little because so many people working on it, all of whom I genuinely respect, seem to have genuine affection for it. They can't all be crazy or dumb, right? When I get worried about my talent or lack thereof as a writer, I try to take comfort in this fact.

Also, a part of my anxiety is this undeniable feeling that if the audience doesn't enjoy the play then its like I'm a liar somehow. All the talking I do about there. All the press I finagled for this small theater show. All the philosophizing about small theater. . . All the self-worth I store in the place where I am a writer. Even more than being wrong, I probably hate people thinking that I was wrong or dumb or pretentious or melodramatic.

But that is not a real worthwhile emotional response. I'm trying to control.

Also odd, with this play, is that its my fourth or fifth production in the last two years. I'd actually have to think it through to get the number right -- which amazes me. And in each of those productions, what happened on opening night and what happened even the night before in rehearsal were two almost entirely different plays. It's just the nature of theater I guess. It's always a leap of faith that it's going to work out in the end. And leaps of faith are always leaps of faith. You don't make them based on evidence. But lack of evidence is always frightening. . . I guess this is why religion is called the practice of faith. The more you do it, successfully, the easier it becomes.

I do have faith.

I am always, however, wondering whether all people do plays that aren't so difficult and nervewracking? Probably they do. Does this mean I'm a good playwright or a bad playwright? on the bad playwright line of thought is the idea that the actors are saving my ass with an incomplete script simply by seducing the audience when they come. On the good playwright line of thought -- my plays have built in to them the sense of the audience's energy.

I suppose it doesn't matter whether I'm a good or bad playwright or not. Either way, a/ they're opening a play of mine tomorrow night and people will see it and b/ there's no money in the profession whether I'm good or bad, so i might as well do it for other reasons than the financial or moral approval of the masses.

What the fuck am I writing about?

Showing my nerves I guess. I guess I'd be worried if I wasn't a little anxious. Superstitiously, I want to feel the same horrible feelings I've felt before the opening of other shows that have turned out wonderfully, in a same way that a gambler recreates what he did before his luck turned around. Maybe that's it. I'm just superstitious.

Does it matter?

Yesterday felt as though spring had finally arrived. The sky was completely blue and the weather was gentler than it has been in a long time here in the frozen tundra of Minnesota. This winter has been brutal. If I see another snow flake, I'm not sure what I will do. Nothing good.

But yesterday, possibility came back a little.

Then, I went to rehearsal for my play. Playwrights should never go to any rehearsals where things are tech heavy. I know this, so I imagine that I'm a pretty patient playwright person. I don't really get upset during a cue-to-cue because the scene doesn't look as good as it should. I get upset because I realize how powerless I am. Hell, how powerless we all are. The director can be perfect but the stage manager can't get the cues. Or the stage manager is perfect but the director doesn't have all the details. Or the director and stage manager are perfect but the light board shorts for no apparent reason. The actors forget where their light is. . . It is amazing that we get another up at all. . .

And so I find myself reminding myself that "it doesn't matter. It's just a play." Spring is coming anyway. My wedding anniversary. Life is about more than just some play that a few people will see and their opinion isn't the core of my life. Enjoy the beauty. Relax in to the universe. A play doesn't matter.

That makes sense, right?

It actually makes me more upset. . . If you spend enough time telling yourself that everything that upsets you doesn't matter than one day you wake up and nothing matters and you're a junk food eating zombie who enjoys daytime morning talk shows and Republican talking points.

The trick, perhaps, making sure you do the things that matter in the way that you think they should be done. . . So how to justify the chaos of live theater -- where we're lucky that the light board doesn't cut out on us?

I guess I could try to learn to enjoy the chaos. . . If I didn't have an ego, if my name wasn't attached to this play, if I didn't genuinely imagine the low esteem people would hold me in if this play sucks, if that didn't matter to me, then I could enjoy the chaos.

But, even though I'd like to say that I don't care what people think of me or my work, I'd be lying. I wrote a play for people to see. How can I not care about what they think? If I didn't care, then I wouldn't write plays. . . I suppose I could get lost in process, but those people eventually come to disrespect their audience.

How do you respect your audience, care for them, entertainment them, communicate with them, but not let them ruin your own experience of what theater really is?

Argh! Tech week. I must sound like an idiot.

Natural Dialogue

I'm back.

Rehearsals are going well. The actors, in their core, seem to have these characters in their gut. Now they just have to get off book. I was running lines with Tracey the other day and realized what a pain in the ass my dialogue must be -- over the course of three lines she says, "What?" "Who?" and then I think "Jeremy" or maybe "What?" again. Yes, that is hard to remember precisely. Yikes!

Every time they finish running a scene that they don't completely have down, they have this deer in the headlights look in their face. . . I hope that's just part of the process because there really does seem to be a lot of great things happening. They are such smart and professional actors. It's a real pleasure. And when they are off book, things take off. Connecting to each other is so important in this play.

They'll get it. They'll probably get it pretty soon. I just hope they know that.

I should retract what I said in my first blog for rakemag.com. I don't know if the actors are having fun. I hope they are. It's really none of my business. They seem to ricochet back and forth between quiet happiness and confidence and utter terror. I suspect that's good but I feel bad that I am the torturer. Ah, but, we're not making pinwheels here. We're trying to do something more, something else. This play asks the actors to go deep. The characters refuse to deal with the big pile of shit they're dragging around which means that the actors have to understand that pile of shit then pretend to ignore it then get buried under it unexpectedly. That's a lot of layers of stuff underneath the way people normally behave. It requires a lot emotionally from an actor I think. and the complex rhythm of the dialogue probably doesn't help until they know it.

In fact, I think once they get all the pieces down, all the pieces will come together in a way that will make the play easier for them. The rhythm of the dialogue will help them. The structure, etc., etc. But until they see and feel all of that in place, it must be hellish to climb over that mountain.

I'm confident they'll start getting there in the next couple days. And anyway they don't really have to get there until Thursday or Friday of next week.

It's just their stunned faces in rehearsal freak me out. I'm worried about their health. I'm thinking of bringing in chicken soup or something.

I was going to write about how I believe that what we all think is naturalistic dialogue isn't and why. I have theories. of course I have theories. But I guess what I really wanted to do was confess. I have some anxiety. not about the strength of the actors or, surprisingly, the play, only about the energy with which it comes together. That is probably exactly where most people are at this point in a rehearsal process. In fact, not being anxious about the actors is a wonderful feeling (that sometimes I haven't always felt to be honest) and not being anxious about the play itself -- well, that just freaks me out. . . Maybe I'm mellowing in my old age. the play I wrote is the play they're doing. Whether or not it's good doesn't actually matter much (good as in people like it). This play, as written, will be done. And we'll see what that means when we do it. . . huh. . . I've been reading the Tao Te Ching again lately. Maybe that's the influence.

Enough. Video trailer of show at http://www.gremlin-theatre.org/video/signs.mp4