Jeff Berryman : Theatre

Tue, 28 Nov 2006 16:22:01 GMT

The Creche Collector

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Design by Kent Landrum

The Christmas Musical at the Northwest Church is not really a musical this year, though everyone keeps referring to it that way. I wrote about 10 different starts to songs just to see if I could get musical juices flowing, but in the end, we decided to do a straight play with some choral music surrounding it. The synopsis runs like this:

When Will Callus, a seventeen-year-old foster child brings his crèche collection to the Leffermann home, Cole Davis, a cynical newspaperman with a weakness for a good story, gets curious about Will's past. As the Leffermanns and their small church community prepare for another Living Nativity, Cole traces the mystery of this young boy's obsession with Christ's birth through a menagerie of offbeat characters, and in the process finds what both he and Will have been searching for all along.

I think it will be worth your time.

Tue, 24 Oct 2006 16:14:11 GMT

Doubt II

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"Doubt": Heather Goldenhersh, left, as Sister James and Cherry Jones as Sister Aloysius. From the New York Production. Photo by Joan Marcus

The play itself was brilliant. As a playwright, to see each scene so clearly and passionately drawn, with clear, high stakes, conflicts straight-forward and deeply rooted in character, is to get a clinic in the craft. John Patrick Shanley says he started with a title: Doubt. In a play about the virtues of doubt, there must be its opposite, namely certainty. Sister Aloysius, played at Seattle Rep by Candice Chappell, is certainty personified. As head of a Catholic school, she is sure of her fierce and rigid character, as well as the necessity of it. She rails at Sister James (Melissa D. Brown), a sensitive young teacher who obviously, according to Sister Aloysius, coddles her charges far too much. When Sister Aloysius begins to suspect that the local priest, Father Flynn (Corey Brill), is sexually abusing one of the boys, she quickly becomes certain of his guilt and swears to use every inch of her power to run him out of the parish. To her credit, there seems to be little doubt (ha!) that Sister Aloysius' primary motivation is the protection of the children in the school. She is not out to get Father Flynn for personal, vindictive reasons, although she explicitly understands that the patriarichal nature of her world will stand against her when she makes her accusations. But after she bolsters her case against Father Flynn with the flimsiest of circumstantial evidence, her own conviction, and the reaction of Father Flynn to a lie Sister Aloysius concocts to trap him, she finally comes to see the flaws in her own fundamental certainty. The play ends with Sister Aloysius bending in pain at the flood of doubt that is finally assailing her. The brilliance of the play is that Shanley leaves the audience just where the characters are: wanting to know whether or Father Flynn is guilty. And of course, Shanley doesn't tell us. With the sex scandals of recent years coming to light, it is easy to want to lump Father Flynn in with the guilty, but Shanley doesn't give us enough hard evidence to know. And here's the point: the uncertainty that tortures us as we seek justice for these wronged boys is what makes us human. Shanley is arguing that it is our doubt that brings us together. Certainty divides. It seems obvious that the religious wars of history tell us that plainly. We know it even in our own small circumstances. Shanley wants us to see that in acknowledging our doubt, by giving it voice, by making our decisions with doubt plainly in sight, we join the human race in humility. As Father Flynn says in the play (and I'm paraphrasing here), "When you doubt, you are not alone." I left the theatre feeling better than I had when I entered it. It's not that I like my doubts...I'd gladly give them up to know evidentially of all I hope for. But there is a reality in voicing our doubts and misgivings. How the faith to move mountains and the doubt that keeps us humble intersect in our souls is a mystery to me, but in my doubt, I suppose God understands. What do we do with Jamesm who says, "...he who doubts is like a wave of the sea, blown and tossed by the wind..."

Mon, 23 Oct 2006 15:45:10 GMT

Doubt

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Kandiss Chappell and Corey Brill in Seattle Repertory Theatre's Doubt, from the Seattle Weekly's Review

This past Saturday night, Anjie and I were fortunate to see Seattle Repertory Theatre's closing night performance of John Patrick Shanley's Doubt. Doubt, which was running in New York when Daniel and I were there last year, won the 2005 Pulitzer Prize for Best Drama, and no wonder. Shanley, best known in pop culture as the writer of the film Moonstruck, wrote one of my favorite plays, a short romantic piece exploring teenage romance called The Red Coat. I knew Doubt would be good, but it's elegance and power caught me by surprise. Going to Seattle Rep usually gives me a case of the regrets because of my short stint there in 1984. My resignation from an internship in artistic direction there was a turning point in my life, and not necessarily a good one. It was the foolish act of a young man who knew little about the world of professional theatre, and even less about the difficulty of mixing faith and art. As a result, the times I've been to the Rep since have always been laced with notalgia and thoughts of what might have been. Needless to say, this is not helpful when wanting to engage a play. But Shanley's Doubt blew past all of that. When I first sat down, I read his essay-- "Embracing Doubt"--in the front of the program, a piece which apparently he wrote for the LA Times. I'd hoped to find the essay and link to it, but it doesn't appear to be online. For reasons that were clear to me, the essay spoke some healing into me even before the curtain went up.

"We are living in a culture of extreme advocacy, of confrontation, of judgment, and of verdict. Discussion has given way to debate. Communication has become a contest of wills. Public talking has become obnoxious and insincere. Why? Maybe it's because deep down under the chatter we have come to a place where we know that we don't know...anything. But nobody's willing to say that."

"It is Doubt (so often experienced initially as weakness) that changes things. When a man feels unsteady, when he falters, when hard-won knowledge evaporates before his eyes, he's on the verge of growth. The subtle or violent reconciliation of the outer person and the inner core often seems at first like a mistake, like you've gone the wrong way and you're lost. But this is just emotion longing for the familiar. Life happens when the tectonic power of your speechless soul breaks through the dead habits of the mind. Doubt is nothing less than an opportunity to reenter the Present."

"Doubt requires more courage than conviction does, and more energy; because conviction is a resting place and doubt is infinite--it is a passionate exercise. You may come out of my play uncertain. You may want to be sure. Look down on that feeling. We've got to learn to live with a full measure of uncertainty. There is no last word. That's the silence under the chatter of our time."

While I can't subscribe to the "no last word" theory, Shanley's belief that doubt is a humanizing force, creating humility and the possiblity for true diverse community, is a welcome idea. I could breathe easier as I settled in for the opening of the play, knowing that perhaps these are days of growth, as hard as they are. Tomorrow, the play...

Fri, 06 Oct 2006 20:49:03 GMT

Hell House in New York

Here's a bit of irony: a secular theatre company in New York has bought the rights, or the "kit" to produce a version of "Hell House" for the New York theatre going audience. "Hell House" is the evangelical Halloween show that depicts various sins and their consequences in graphic "scare-the-devil-out-of-you" style. The NY Times article (The Road to Hell (and Maybe Heaven) Detours Through Brooklyn) outlines the obvious ironies involved in the Les Freres Corbusier's Artistic Director's desire to critique evangelicalism by sincerely producing one of that world's more popular propaganda pieces. How strange it must be to produce a play, or what might be more properly called a theatre experience, in faithful representation of the author's wishes, in order to get a result exactly opposite of what the writer intended. I love this phrase the writer uses..."a truly gymnastic display of irony." Postmodern indeed

Thu, 30 Mar 2006 16:58:38 GMT

Voice of the Prairie Review

Looks like the Seattle Times liked the show. Read the review here.

Wed, 22 Mar 2006 21:39:14 GMT

Voice of the Prairie

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Timothy Hornor and Marianne Savell
play Davey & Frankie in The Voice of the Prairie
by John Olive. Photo by Erik Stuhaug.

Taproot Theatre's Voice of the Prairie has its first preview audience tonight, and from the response we got last night at the invited dress, I think the play is going to make a lot of people happy. Hat's off to my fellow actors in the play, Tim Horner and Marianne Savell, both of them funny, witty, and wonderful actors. We open Friday night (March 24) and run until April 22nd. Come catch this wise little play if you can. We all play multiple characters, which is an exercise I'm not all that used to, but watching Tim and Marianne go through their various transformations is tremendous fun. The play cuts back and forth between the years 1895 and 1923, following the exploits of a New York huckster and a midwestern storyteller as they introduce radio to the rural folks of the great plains. Should be fun...

Fri, 14 Oct 2005 17:02:24 GMT

The Grapes of Wrath

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The Joads in the Intiman Theatre production of The Grapes of Wrath
Photo by Laura Morton, Seattle Times

John Steinbeck's story of the Joad family's journey to California at the height of the America's Great Depression continues to speak. Last night, watching the Intiman Theatre's latest production of The Grapes of Wrath, the second installment of its multi-year "American Cycle", I couldn't help but think of the millions of displaced people currently on the move across the planet. Normally such displacement happens elsewhere, and we are accustomed to seeing new reports and images detailing third world migrations. But the play at Intiman especially resonates given the recent tragedies of Katrina and Rita, which help frame our response to the earthquake in India and Pakistan. It is with some hanging of the head that I confess I've never read Steinbeck's classic, nor have I seen the classic film with Henry Fonda. So my first encounter with the Joads was in a videotaped presentation of Steppenwolf Theatre's award-winning production of this play, with Gary Sinise in the role of Tom. I was transfixed and moved, and at the end of the play, I was absolutely shattered by the final image, which, I suppose, I should not reveal, fearing to spoil the experience for others. But be warned, I have to talk about it. Women are powerful creatures, strong to the point of death, and Ma Joad (beautifully played in the Intiman production by Beth Dixon) carries the Joad family across the mountains and desert on her emotional back, withstanding blow after blow, loss after loss, vowing repeatedly to simply "go on." The men of the play may do the leading and the fighting and the heavy lifting, but it's the women who provide the ground on which these men walk, the food of their lives. Ma Joad literally sits with death, craddling Grandma in the back of the truck as they finally cross down out of the mountains to gain their first view of the great valleys of California at the end of Act One. I knew these kind of southern women, these powerful women who lived up through the depression and hung on as best they could. Ma and Pa Joad could have easily been my grandparents on my mother's side, Pawpaw and Maamaw we called them. Pawpaw was a fighter, a grizzled old soul with a heart that had a hard time making itself known, a complex sort of man who, now looking back, completely confounded me. But he was one of the ones wandering around, trying, in the 30's, to piece together a life of sharecropping and whatever hard labor he could find. And Maamaw was a quieter version of Ma Joad, not dominant in the same way, but with an undercurrent of presence that spoke of hard times lived through. Maybe I'm romanticizing, but I think not, because the truth is--and here is not the place to belabor this--our relationships, at least in my mind, were difficult. But I think this is one of the reasons I love this play so much[sigma]it reminds me of my family, and the potential, in spite of our losses, to grow on. And to the final devastating image of the play: the young Rose of Sharon, after having traveled 2000 miles to end up in a boxcar in a driving rainstorm, a nearby river threatening to overrun its banks even as she is going into labor, now abandoned by her husband, having just given birth to a stillborn child, manages to limp into a barn on higher ground (at the prompting and goading of Ma Joad), and there, having found a man on the brink of starvation, offers the milk of her own breast to keep this man from death. On the deep stage of the Intiman, with the sounds of trickling rain beating on the stage, the image of the wracked woman offering her life's milk to the weak and dying man is almost more than the heart can bear. It is an image that captures the play: the devastating results of man's inhumanity to man, as well as the core strength of a human being to dig into the unknown source of the soul (unknown in Steinbeck's world, at least) to offer its very self. Woman and Man, tied together in a primal image of God, who has poured just such hope and love into our hearts... This is life...

Tue, 27 Sep 2005 16:35:50 GMT

Reflections on Leaving Ruin

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This past weekend, I performed Leaving Ruin at Taproot Theatre. The three performance run was truly a treat for me, like playing a football game on your home turf for a hometown crowd. There was a level of ease and presence in the work that is sometimes hard to maintain on the road. With all the time I've spent in the Taproot space, the familiarity became an ally as I dropped into the imaginative world of Cyrus Manning. I found Saturday night especially affecting, and the emotional waves that theoretically swamp Cyrus showed up right on cue throughout the evening. I've been doing this play for seven-and-a-half years now, which I hadn't really considered until this weekend. In that time, the play has seen many types of audiences: some laugh through the first act as if it's a sitcom, others sit quietly as if offended, but in the end, there are always people who come up to me after it's over to say thank you, that their brother or father or friend went through exactly that experience, and that somehow the journey of Cyrus ended up being what they were scared it wouldn't be--healing. It's hard to express just how thankful I am for Leaving Ruin. As my wife says, it's just something God gave me, and it easy to see His hand working in the ongoing work of the play and the novel. It's one of those Chariots of Fire things, I guess--that when I'm playing Cyrus, I feel God's pleasure. Let all the applause belong to You...

Tue, 27 Sep 2005 16:23:06 GMT

Now Here's a Way to Build Audiences

A Night Of Free Theatre For All

ArtsJournal - Theatre

C'mon Seattle, let's do it, too...

Mon, 29 Aug 2005 18:53:26 GMT

Thankfulness

I hope I'm not too obnoxious about it (I probably am), but I'm celebrating my kids these days... My daughter Amy turned 17 this past week, and besides celebrating the amazing gift that she is in our life, we also feted her triumphant summer at Interlochen Arts Camp in Interlochen, Michigan this summer. where she sang the role of Bella in their musical theatre production of Rags. She won tremendous reviews. Hearing her sing these days is an amazing joy...she found a freedom this summer that was a tremendous key, unlocking sounds that should serve her well when she goes to audition this fall for some of the best university musical theatre programs in the country. I am excited about what God is going to do through her voice and acting. Most of all, she retains that wonderful, kind heart that she's always had. A joy of a human being. Daniel sang the role of Jean Valjean (yes, that Jean Valjean) in Taproot Theatre's Teen Acting Studio's (Musical Theatre Supercamp) production of Les Miserables (School Edition) this past weekend, and was a joy to listen to as well. There's a music gene in there somewhere on the Mayfield/Berryman side, and both my kids seem to have gotten it. The play, directed by Sam and Candace Vance, was a tremendous testimony to the energy and talent of youth. These young actors attacked these demanding roles with great gusto and commitment, and really told the story of Valjean. Dick Staub mentions the experience in his blog today...check out what he said about the play.... ...so thankful...

Thu, 14 Jul 2005 17:10:55 GMT

The Fantasticks

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Kelly Balch, Anne Kennedy, and Sam Lai in The Fantasticks

Notes from the daily life, with apologies to those who check in regularly to see what's going on in this old noggin...

We open Taproot Theatre Company's production of The Fantasticks tomorrow night...hoping lots of people come out and see this wise little play. It's been a pleasure to work with such a fine cast (but then you should come see, judge for yourself). The past couple of nights have seen our first audience members, and the usual rush of intial fear, but last night's preview felt like the play was finally beginning to find its stride. By the way, I play El Gallo. Try to remember...

Wed, 29 Jun 2005 19:05:06 GMT

Quotes from Ariane Mnouchkine

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Henry IV, Part I I offer more of Mnouchkine's thoughts on the theatre, again without much comment, except to say that she is on to something...many things... The following quotes are from Ariane Mnouchkine and the Theatre du Soleil by Adrian Kiernander. On what a theatre company is... "A theatre company is not an artistic entity cut off from life. A company is a group. A group is always a maternal structure. At the beginning, I didn't know that, but I've discovered it. I discovered that it is not enough for actors to be good creators. It is also necessary for them to be free and happy. And that's not easy. Because there is constantly amongst us all a strange mixture of generosity and selfishness, of availability and reserve. This is an explosive which has to be handled delicately. It is passion in its pure state. It is life. It is restricting, certainly, but it is also wonderful." (p. 15) On watching, paying attention... "I try to create an atmostphere of tolerance where one can try anything, and where there at least a minimum of respect on the part of the actors for each other, where they watch. I hate it when they don't watch carefully what the others do, because I know it is by watching that they will understand things. If there are those who don't concentrate or who don't watch what their comrades do, I'll throw a shoe at them because I hate that. But I think there is quality in their watching now. They know that they must watch. They know that it is valuable for them to watch the others. To watch the others properly. Not to think while the others are working, 'What am I going to do?' No. To watch the others." (p. 15) On looking for 'the theatre'... "In the beginning I thought that a director was someone who had an interpretation of the play, a unique one. But then what I came to love more and more was the theatre, that is to say Actors in a Space before and Audience...I believe that what feeds the work of the theatre is first of all the theatre itself. It is discovery, adventure. It is 'looking for' the theatre. In the history of the theatre, what nourishes me is the questioning, the discoveries, the illuminations of the people of the theatre who have preceded us, their desires...in the case of Copeau, for example, it is his desire which is very interesting, and very beautiful, more so certainly than what he was in fact able to achieve...Is it really the countryside which fed Monet's poppyfield, or is it really painting which discovers, which truly reveals the field of poppies? In the process of rehearsal I look for the theatre, second by second, and when it appears, truly appears, it is undeniable." (emphasis mine) ...that last sentence is, for me, the key...

Tue, 28 Jun 2005 04:28:26 GMT

Mnouchkine and World Theatre Day

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Richard II (1981) Le Theatre du Soleil

I didn't know there was such a thing as World Theatre Day. As I was looking around the web just now, I came across some sites related to Le Theatre du Soleil. This is the company that created the production of Richard II I saw in 1984 that literally changed the course of my life. How it did so is a long, long story, and I won't relate it here, except to say that what I saw that night was a glimpse of what it was that made me love the idea of theatre. Anyway, surfing the web just now, I found this message delivered by Ariane Mnouchkine on World Theatre Day of 2005, which, I found out, is March 27th each year. (Mark your calendars!) Here's what she said, and I offer it without comment, but simply as food for thought. And the question is: can the theatre really do all these things? Should it? Should our work do this?

Help !

Theatre, come to my rescue !
I am asleep. Wake me
I am lost in the dark, guide me, at least towards a candle
I am lazy, shame me
I am tired, raise me up
I am indifferent, strike me
I remain indifferent, beat me up
I am afraid, encourage me
I am ignorant, teach me
I am monstrous, make me human
I am pretentious, make me die of laughter
I am cynical, take me down a peg
I am foolish, transform me
I am wicked, punish me.
I am dominating and cruel, fight against me
I am pedantic, make fun of me
I am vulgar, elevate me
I am mute, untie my tongue
I no longer dream, call me a coward or a fool
I have forgotten, throw Memory in my face
I feel old and stale, make the Child in me leap up
I am heavy, give me Music
I am sad, bring me Joy
I am deaf, make Pain shriek like a storm
I am agitated, let Wisdom rise within me
I am weak, kindle Friendship
I am blind, summon all the Lights
I am dominated by Ugliness, bring in conquering Beauty
I have been recruited by Hatred, unleash all the forces of Love.

International Theatre Institute

...amazing still...

Mon, 20 Jun 2005 22:57:58 GMT

Dick Staub Visits Arthur: The Hunt

Check out the blog entry from Dick Staub, wherein he laments the lighter audiences that have been seeing (or not seeing, as the case may be) Arthur: The Hunt (which, by the way, closed Saturday night at Taproot). Dick called my play a "middlebrow" piece, "demanding" and "a challenge personally enriching...." He then uses the play as a stepping off point to discuss the loss of what he calls "middlebrow" culture. I think he's right, though I haven't really done much work with the term "middlebrow." Dick Staub is a great thinker and writer...check it out here...

Mon, 20 Jun 2005 22:49:07 GMT

Character: Does following Impulse help or hurt?

I just returned from spending a week with my friends at Willow Creek Community Church in South Barrington, Illinois, just outside of Chicago. I was privileged to be teaching at their annual Arts Conference, attendance of just over 5000 for the week. I taught an acting class, a directing class, and a writing class, all of them centered on the idea of playing action: how to act it, how to direct it, and how to write it. Lots of wonderful, eager students all hoping to use their gifts and passions for God. I also led a bit of worship in the Dance/Drama breakout sessions, and also did a performance of Leaving Ruin, attendance at that event about 300. The play continues to be powerful for those seeing it for the first time, and the moment-to-moment seemed very alive, more so than its been in a while. One actor was very excited after my acting class, because I had finished the class by talking about the difference between doing a thing (playing action) and pretending to do a thing (pretending to play action). He got excited because someone was finally beginning to talk about the power of the imaginative life of the actor in a Christian context. That imaginative life frankly scared this particular actor, because he grasped the potential dangers lurking in the shadows of certain kinds of imaginative stimulus. How do you play the intimacy of relationship imaginatively and not get lost in inappropriate impulses that are traveling from body to body between actors on a stage? It's a good question, and one that frankly, I've never heard any professional actor address--at least not to my satisfaction Robert Cohen, in Acting One, states frankly that the actor must be able to imagine anything. And much actor training is, admittedly, about breaking down social constraints that keep us from being able to freely respond in the moment to the imaginative and physical stimuli racing toward us from the other actor, as well as racing through our own bodies. I've written about this notion before, I think. That we train what Stephen Covey calls "the gap between stimulus and response" out of actors, wanting them to respond spontaneously, in the moment, in physically truthful ways. And to do this, one of the chief targets is the "censor", that little judge that sits on our shoulders and stops us from acting truthfully not only on the stage, but in real life as well. We work to shut the censor up, so that we can begin to respond freely to the moment presenting itself, and there is truly magic about watching a young actor first begin to connect to this freedom. And it's true: many of our inhibitions are bad, results of others trying to dictate to us. Or perhaps we simply are afraid of life, inhibiting our action in a sham of carefulness. There are many sorts of inhibitions that are worth overcoming, and we do actors favors when we help them, through training, return to a more truthful place of self understanding and expression. But not all inhibition is bad. What does it mean for Covey, and Daniel Goldman (Emotional Intelligence) and countless others to name the ability to inhibit impulses as the cornerstone of creating "character"--"character" as in moral fortitude? The truth is that the kind of intimate realism so many of us champion in the theatre is too stark, too dangerous, and too threatening for the church venue. Which is not to say that approaches to realism in the church aren't full of potential for good. But it is to say that when the imaginative processes of acting come explicitly to light in the church setting, lots of people get nervous. Art tends to do that...

Wed, 01 Jun 2005 07:56:38 GMT

What A Theatrical Moment Is Not

I was at Thumpers last night, a Seattle bar equipped with a small cabaret venue separate from its bar, a venue that Ann Evans Zavada, a local voice teacher, often takes advantage of as she creates opportunities for her students to perform. Last night was a "cabaret" (an uptown version of a recital, and lots more fun) performance, and my family and I, along with a few friends went to see my son sing--which he did quite well, but that is another post, another time. As I watched these young performers sing various songs from the musical theatre, I thought I'd take a bit of time and analyze just what was going on in terms of "density" as I've referred to that elusive goal of theatre work in recent posts. There was intense interest in the students as most of the audience were, as we were, family and friends (not to mention financial supporters). Truthfully, most of the students were early on in their training, and as high school students go, they sang bravely and well enough, but without much art (as in skill), though they were all obviously growing in their skills. I say this not to disparage them--truly, it was a wonderful evening--but rather to seek the truth about the quality of interaction between the audience and the performer. Theatrical density can be aided, I suppose, by familial connection, but...not really. By familial, I would include not only blood relations, or close friendships, but I would suggest that close political, religious, or any other idealogical ties are no real help in creating true artistic density or wholeness. This is the whole problem with close relations (by blood or politics or religion) telling you whether you're any good at a thing or not. Give my novel to my Mom or my friend, and its a great novel. Give my novel to my Christian buddies who want to encourage me and they say its a great novel. Give my novel to my Christian friends who are also published writers and I'm moving closer to the goal of getting real knowledge. When the published atheist comes to me and tells me he was moved by the writing, perhaps something more deeply artful is approaching. Not that atheists no more about art than Christians (that, too, is another post), but trying to say that art will transcend the barriers. In the theatre, the density of the moment is what we are seeking. Were the moments dense at the cabaret? Some were, mostly when singers forgot their lines, or smiled in a particular way, the crowd erupting in a spontaneous laugh. Artfully dense? No. Again, please don't hear that as criticism, but as comparative analysis. So density of a moment is not mere interest--we were all terribly interested in our children. Density of moment in the theatre has to be related to skilled construction and structure, and the linkages between smaller structures, both in actors moving moment to moment in terms of their own arcs, as well as by the physical work of directors and designers moving bodies and other aesthetic materials in space.

Sometimes I worry that Christians in the theatre still think that Christian fellowship buys them an out when it comes to that skilled construction and structure. Note that the paragraph above is no respector of religion: it is part of the discipline and mystery of the theatre, across culture, across time, across space. Faith will inform art...if the skill is there to make art to start with. ...faith does not art make.

Fri, 27 May 2005 15:16:52 GMT

Density

Peter Brook, in The Open Door, writes about boredom in the theatre, the insidious nature of it. Frankly, we all have silent contracts with ourselves that we will let small boredoms go by if there are moments of flashing interest. Christians are especially willing to suffer theatrical boredom in the name of explicit religious content--"just give me the saving message of Jesus and the theatre can be as bad as it can be and I'll still call it good." On the level of most church dramas (as practiced in evangelical churches that use drama as a tool to communicate messages, support the sermons, etc), this sort of nonchalance toward the disciplines governing the creation of a theatrical moment is evident. As is the boredom with the moments themselves, whatever interest there is being generated through something other than the "theatre" of the moments. Back to Peter Brook and boredom. It's easy to complain. And it's easy to talk in polarities, as if there were only two levels of interest in the theatre--boredom and thrill. Obviously, the range is a continuum. But I've always found Brook's assessment to be helpful. He says that moments must be dense. Now, it's been awhile since I last read The Open Door, and frankly, I'm not sure what all he said about this density, but the concept has stayed with me. What does it take for a moment of theatre to be dense? Almost in response to this notion, actors and directors end up using the word "fill" a lot, as in, "Fill that moment." Fill it with what? What do we mean? We all nod at each other as if we know and agree, but I wonder if pressed to actually name the material (and I don't necessarily mean physical material) with which we need to "fill" these moments whether or not we could do it? So, the question for the day, if you're going to "fill" a moment, what are you going to fill it with? What do you mean? ...what is the nature of this density?

Thu, 26 May 2005 20:20:11 GMT

The Imprecision of Talking about Theatrical Moments

Arthur: The Hunt

this way

How will we recognize "truth" on the stage when we see it?
How will we describe such a moment?
What are the necessary elements that must be present for "truth" in theatre to be revealed?
Given the implied difficulty of such a task, is it even relevant to use the term "truth" as it relates to theatre?
If it is relevant, where is "truth" most likely to reside? In the playwright's words? In the actor's delivery? In the arrangement of bodies in space?
Does "truth" always mean realism?

...that's one category...what are your questions?

Wed, 25 May 2005 16:31:27 GMT

On the Nature of a Theatrical Moment

Since my first encounter with the work of Peter Brook, Jerzy Grotowski, and the various theorists of theatre represented in my graduate school classes back at the University of Texas, I have been fascinated by what I simply call a moment of theatre. The unique fact of a body in physical space initiating an imitation of an action in front of an audience continues to stun me every time I see it. Which is not quite the same thing as saying I am stunned every time I see a piece of theatre. It is hard to say why, but some of the happiest moments of my life have been catching glimpses of such moments of theatre, moments where two or more human beings are engaged in designed, physical space, and between the two human beings a near-visible arc rises, not unlike a ribbon of electricity (and energy it certainly is), and in that moment, the arc also stretches toward me, triangulating the action on the stage with my own imaginative life, and somehow (I have no idea how or why), the curtain on the unseen seems to part. All that sounds lofty, I know, but it is a loftiness I know in my bones, and speaks to the why of my too common grumbling as I stumble out of a theatre unmoved. What makes for such moments? This may simply be another way of asking the question, what is the nature of "good" and "bad" in the theatre. My goodness, we live and die by these reviews, reviews published by unknown folks who I'm sure are sincere in their desire to help. But is there a shared vocabulary as to what "quality" really refers to in the theatre? And for goodness sake, what would it mean to bring the whole notion of Christianity into the picture? If Christ were to sit down with me (or you) in a theatre, and we were to watch the play together, chat at intermission over a molasses cookie, and then do coffee after the whole thing was over, what would we talk about? In terms of theatre?

Now, if you're uptight because I've got Jesus talking acting, my assumption is that he's as up on that category of human experience as any, though the practicality of that conversation is a little out of reach in this dimension. But you see my point: a moment of theatre is up for discussion from the heavens back down to the smallest of theatre classes in the tiniest of high schools. Anybody want to talk about it? Here's the strange thing...I'll bet if you're a theatre artist, you spend a good deal of time talking about what's good and what's not. In fact, if you're in rehearsal or in design conferences, you're constantly adjusting moments and lines hoping to make the work "better." But when was the last time you had a conversation that lasted more than five minutes about what "better" actually entails? Here's the question for you who might want to follow this thread along: what questions must be asked if an "aesthetic" defining a theatre is to be constructed? What questions must be asked in trying to discover the nature of theatrical truth for this specific time in history? There are some big categories here, but they're worth plumbing. And if we're all too busy to stop and ask these questions, what hope do we have of pushing the art form forward, in the name of Christ or anybody else? ...the answers determine the training, the approach, and the work itself...

Tue, 24 May 2005 15:05:23 GMT

Thoughts on Arthur: The Hunt

...pay what you can tomorrow night...

Tue, 10 May 2005 21:45:52 GMT

Arthur: The Hunt

[Macro error: Can't find a sub-table named "radioResponder".]
Sarah Lamb as Morgan
Terry Edward Moore as Emrys
in Taproot Theatre's production of
ARTHUR: THE HUNT

Just want everyone to know that rehearsals are in full swing--in fact we open a week from this Friday night, May 20. The process has been fast, a great deal of fun, and heart-breaking on more than one occasion, the latter for all the right reasons. Tonight we move onto the set, this weekend we add the costumes, and next week we add the audience. Hard to say what people will make of this tale, other than their immediate recognition that these characters have issues with each other, issues that will last far past this play. Get your tickets now...

Thu, 03 Mar 2005 23:41:07 GMT

Back Online

Why don't we call it "church theatre?"

Wed, 23 Feb 2005 15:49:49 GMT

Presence

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Any takers on these questions?

Sat, 19 Feb 2005 17:04:44 GMT

King Arthur

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The Arthur Cycle

Thu, 10 Feb 2005 21:04:49 GMT

Movin' Out...

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Poster for Movin' Out
at the Richard Rogers Theatre
See my hat in the reflection?

New York

Movin' Out

Little Women

Brooklyn

Pacific Overtures

Arthur: The Begetting

Thanks for checking in...