Just Wrought

Recovering playwright, once won a STRANGER Genius Award for theater. Now writing a bloated novel about… G-d help me! Theatre.

Tag: ACT

  • Day 8 / Reason 8: Amy Thone

    Day 8 / Reason 8: Amy Thone

    “Actors I know and love.”

    That is the last line of yesterday’s post. So it’s only fitting that we come now to Amy Thone, who represents, for me, the epitome of that phrase.

    But first, I need to stop and explain how I am mucking up the flow of this series of blogs, and mangling the architecture of its suspense. If I were being clever in how I promoted and distributed these little essays, I would save the best for last, and wait until day 12 to reveal my decisive reason for returning to the theatre, saying something like, “Of course, the real reason I’m going back is… ____.” But I will spare you that trivial grift and tell you right here, right now, good and early, because I remember when I first heard about the possibility and I thought to myself, “Oh crap! If Amy plays Scrooge, I’m going to have break my theatre fast to go see her.”

    Now, full disclosure: ACT’s production of A Christmas Carol features two Scrooges, playing in repertory, because the role is so demanding, and because ACT offers so many performances. (Hey, if you got a cash cow, milk it, right?) This year features the inestimable R. Hamilton Wright, a seasoned veteran in the part, alternating with Amy, a newcomer to the role. Says Ray Tagavilla, who’s playing Bob Cratchit, and is himself one of this city’s finest actors: “Bob Wright and Amy Thone as both Scrooges on different nights are 2 different shows.” Indeed, I am very tempted to go see Bob’s version, too.

    A career in theatre, especially in a town like Seattle, can produce some interesting ironies and some fairly cruel petty twists of fate, because, as long as I have known Amy (since 1991) and as much as I admire her as an artist (profoundly and unequivocally), I have never had the opportunity to work with her as a playwright.

    Ironically (I warned you there would be irony) the very first moment I met her was when Amy auditioned for a part in a play of mine at Annex Theatre. She blew the room away with her monologue, and then again, cold-reading sides from my script. We offered her the part right then and there, but she told us that she was Equity, i.e. a union actor, and could not work at Annex, a non-union shop. She explained that she was auditioning everywhere because she was new to town and wanted folks to be familiar with her work.

    Talk about heartbreak. There’s nothing quite like the disappointment a playwright feels when he knows in his bones he has the perfect person for a role right in front of him, but he can’t cast her because of the arcane rules of theatre. (Reason #373 why I left.)

    Amy and I became friends anyway, and have spent the intervening decades admiring each other’s work from across the unbridgeable gap of show biz circumstance in all its banality.

    Amy Thone playing Scrooge has dragged me back to the theatre, because, beyond her being my friend, and despite my determination to stay away, Dame Thone, as I teasingly style her, is one of those performers who will surprise you every time she walks on stage. You’re prepared for it. You know it’s going to happen, but there she is, surprising you anyway.

    I have seen at least twenty-five different actors perform Scrooge. I have even played him myself as a young man. But I know with a certainty that Amy is going to show me something about this timeless character that I have never known before. And in showing me something new about Scrooge, she will show me something new about myself. How often are we offered such a guarantee?

  • Day 5 / Reason 5 for Going back to the Theatre: A Contemporary Theatre

    Day 5 / Reason 5 for Going back to the Theatre: A Contemporary Theatre

    When I attended the University of Maryland on an acting scholarship, I was required to meet at the end of every semester with the faculty advisory board to discuss my progress as a student of the theater arts. At one such meeting, in the middle of my sophomore year, the head of the department expressed his concerns that I was “not a team player”. At the end of that academic year, I left college, for good as it turns out, though I didn’t know that at the time.

    I have been a practicing Buddhist for over thirty years. The three jewels of Buddhism are the Buddha, the dharma and the sangha. “Dharma” is just a fancy sounding Sanskrit word for “the teaching” or “doctrine”. “sangha” is Sanskrit for “community” or “monastic order”; what Christians might translate as “the congregation” or “the church.” I feel pretty good about my relationship with the first two jewels, but I am the first to admit that I am bad at sangha.

    I have an inherent distrust of institutions, and I am especially bad at trusting large theatre institutions. The larger they are, the less I trust them. From my perspective as a playwright, large regional theaters operate to maximize their own survival as institutions over the quality of the work they produce. I used to relish comparing the Seattle Rep to the Queen Mary ocean liner, now permanently attached to its mooring in Long Beach, trotting out the old adage, “Ships are safe at harbor, but that’s not what ships are for.” I used to think I could do something to help change this sad status quo, but after doing my damnedest to move the needle for at least ten years, I gave up. This impasse can certainly be listed among my reasons for retiring from theatre, but I’d be lying if I claimed it was the only one.

    I always assumed that Seattle’s Big Houses would survive, regardless, because that’s what they were designed to do. I assumed they would always be there for people who wanted to watch safe theater, and, because I wasn’t one of those people, I didn’t have to care. Now, after nearly two years of lockdowns and dark stages, I am not so sure.

    With eight years to think things over, I will straight up own my institutional distrust as a character flaw, particularly egregious for a playwright, for whom every achievement is necessarily the result of a team effort. I will also openly admit that A Contemporary Theatre (ACT) has been a pretty good friend to me as a theatre artist over the years. In 1997 ACT commissioned me as one of four playwrights to participate in a new play development workshop, and my play Louis Slotin Sonata received its first ever staged reading in ACT’s Bullitt Cabaret space. I have acted and written for many iterations of 14/48 at ACT, and for many years I was a teaching artist associated with the theater’s FirstACT program, which brings playwrights into Seattle high schools to teach young people the craft.

    ACT has two mainstages, and several other smaller performance spaces, and has been very generous in opening these venues up to outside performing arts organizations, like New Century Theatre, The Seagull Project and 14/48, just to name a very few.

    Until The 5th Avenue Theatre comes back online in January, ACT is the only live theatre actively producing in the downtown corridor. Think about that. Then think about the relationship of live theatre to the health of a city. What would Seattle look like without a flagship complex of performance venues like A Contemporary Theatre?

    Would it look like Seattle’s downtown core does right now? Half-empty, garbage-strewn, whole blocks lined with tents and active drug markets obstructing the entryways to the small businesses.

    Do we really want live in a city devoid of live theatre?

    I’m not interested in that.

    I want ACT to survive, so I am shifting gears, breaking my fast, and heading back to the theatre on Sunday, December 12 to join the crowd coming downtown to see A Christmas Carol.

    Maybe I’ll see ya down there.

  • Better Dead, But Rich’ll Do

    Better Dead, But Rich’ll Do

    I don’t even have a dog in the fight that Brendan Kiley’s pulled me into here, but I think I might have to rent one.
    Me on Face Book yesterday
     

    * * *

    Before I retired from theatre nearly two years ago I liked to write essays about the art form’s problems (“On Institutional Arrogance”), and what made it great, (“How Can I Talk About the Borrowers?”), but I never did manage to write all the essays I wanted to. By the end, I had a whole file full of titles I would never flesh out.  I even wrote an essay about that (“Surplus Titles”). One of my favorite leftovers was “Better Dead”, under which I intended to provide an explanation to the uninitiated that despite the image they might hold in their minds of playwrights being central to the making of theatre in modern America, the fact is, our absence is the usual and preferred state of engagement, and if we can manage to be dead, preferably for a long enough time that our work is in the public domain, then we are even more popular among our non-playwriting theatre colleagues.

    (more…)

  • Live Blogging “Swing Time” – The Sunday Run-through

    Live Blogging “Swing Time” – The Sunday Run-through

    I’m watching the first act of Sandbox Radio LIVE!: “Swing Time”, which we will be performing live tomorrow at ACT in downtown Seattle, but will also be broadcasting via podcast as soon as we sweeten the sound.

    I can relax a little for the moment because my two bits aren’t until act two.  As per usual, I’m Sam in episode 12 of Markheim, but I also got drafted as a concessions vendor in our staging of the classic baseball balladry, “Casey at the Bat”.

    There’s an intense ambient confusion to late process rehearsals—cue-to-cues and dress runs, etc.—that I find deeply unnerving, even though as a playwright I usually had absolutely zero responsibilities. Amidst the tumult, I am grateful for directors in a way I usually don’t admit to. I recall, at these times, my deep admiration for anyone who can handle chaos—indeed choreograph it— with expertise and élan. Two names leap to mind, Leslie Law, the director and producer of Sandbox Radio, and John Langs, who directed the Seattle premiere of my play Louis Slotin Sonata and the world premiere of The Sequence, my staging of the real-life race to decode the human genome. I offer you this memory of John, utterly out of context to protect the innocent and guilty alike, after having sat through 10 hours of tech as cool as a cucumber, then suddenly shouting: “Would someone please muzzle that fucking dog!”  The show’s mascot Jack Russell Terrier had apparently rubbed John’s last nerve raw.

    For now, I get to sit and blog to you, gentle reader, about how much I love Juliette Pruzan’s particular whimsy, which you’ll be able to witness yourself in her original piece, “Swing Time Swing Set” written especially for this show, and performed with delight by Seanjohn Walsh, Kathryn Van Meter, Amy Bush and others. I pride myself on knowing where the laughs will come in a new work.  I’m not always right, but I can assure you there are plenty in this one. Probably some you’ll surprise us with when you come see tomorrow.

    If you haven’t already, get your tix here.

  • Sandbox Radio Live! Makes a Bold New Move

    Sandbox Radio Live! Makes a Bold New Move

    Sure bigger isn’t always better, and art doesn’t always thrive when it moves to a fancier-panted venue. I know I’d rather have seen the Beatles work the Cavern Club in Liverpool—or even better, one of the Hamburg dives they learned their chops in—rather than Shea Stadium, where even they couldn’t hear themselves play.

    So there are inevitably doubters about Sandbox Radio LIVE’s move to the much larger venue of ACT’s Falls Theatre for its upcoming episode, January 13, 2004.  But here’s the thing: for about three years running we have sold out every live taping of SBRL! that we have produced at West of Lenin, our perfectly cozy little venue in Fremont. That means there are people—lots of people—actually, that would like to experience the unique fun of witnessing the live recording of our podcasts who can’t, simply because we don’t have seats for them. 

    This move can help us reach more people with our unique live performance offering which is quite literally (old-school usage) different from anything you have ever seen, featuring some of Seattle’s finest actors performing brand new locally sourced material generated by some of Seattle’s finest playwrights and (ahem) former playwrights.Beatles at the cavern club

    In short, this is the kind of bold artistic risk that deserves your reward. So how can you help? Just come!  Click this link and order your tickets so that we can have friendly butts in every new seat we’re adding.  Help us spread the fun of Sandbox Radio Live! Do it for the Beatles!  (It’s what Pete Best and Stu Sutcliffe would’ve wanted.)

    The details:

    January 13, 2014 at 8:00pm

    ACT’s Falls Theatre

    Running Time: 2 hours (including an intermission)

    The Food of Love includes new short audio plays from Seattle playwrights Vincent Delaney, Elizabeth Heffron, and Wayne Rawley, a fresh new episode of Paul Mullin’s noir-angel serial Markheim, the latest adventure of Scot Augustson’s hilarious Cousin Katie, special guest Jeopardy champ Ken Jennings, our fabulous live sfx, original music from Jose “Juicy” Gonzales and the Sandbox Radio Orchestra, and more surprises, all recorded in front of you, our “studio” audience.

    Oh, and know that you can always enjoy the fun of Sandbox Radio, going back to our very first episode, by clicking below and downloading the podcasts:

    Here: https://itunes.apple.com/us/podcast/sandbox-radio-live/id452830642

    Or here: http://www.stitcher.com/podcast/sandbox-radio-live?refid=stpr

    PS !  You can message me privately for a discount code which will save you 25% off your ticket price.

    Food of love banner

  • This Change is Playwright Approved

    This Change is Playwright Approved

    Theatre tradition runs rife with jokes, sayings and funny stories about actors and playwrights, and their divergent natures.

    Question: How many playwrights does it take to change a light bulb?

    Answer: The light bulb doesn’t need any changes.

    * * *

    Question: What’s the difference between a working Seattle actor and a large pepperoni pizza?

    Answer: A large pepperoni pizza can feed a family of four.

    * * *

    “The average actor craves approval; the above average playwright craves disapproval.”

    These clichés occasionally harbor a smidgeon of truth, but persist as mostly empty stereotypes. However, I do hold one difference between playwrights and other theatre artists to be true and fundamental: we tend to have a keener long-term view of the theatrical environment. This only makes sense. Our work cycle runs to years, whereas most other theatre artists live tactically, month to month; at most, season to season. Playwrights simply scan a farther horizon. (So no, I was not using my psychic powers when I predicted earlier than most the demise of the Intiman as we know it.)

    All this is to say my eagle eyes tell me that ACT just made an exquisite choice by appointing John Langs to the position of Associate Artistic Director, and thereby giving him and his family a reason to make Seattle their permanent home. (You can read a detailed run down of John’s new duties here.)  Unlike other hotshot directors who have been recruited from afar to fill similar roles at Seattle Big Houses, Langs is no elitist carpet bagger. His roots run deep here in Seattle, at Big Houses and small, with him directing work by writers running a gamut from Shakespeare to, well, me.

    Seattle actors love Langs, and he loves them. Seattle playwrights respect Langs, and he respects them. (A dual-facing fact I wish were true for more Seattle Big House administrators.) I won’t tell you John Langs can single-handedly drag Seattle theatre to excellence—he can’t; but he is the piece that perfectly fits a missing part of the puzzle here. Langs has shepherded more excellent new plays to world premiere than any other director I know. He gets why new work is so vital to Seattle’s health as a World Class theatre town. He also gets how nurturing it can help his own career in a way that staging the latest New Yorker-approved off-Broadway hit never could.   

    ACT’s choice is a win for everyone. Langs will grow his already formidable career here instead of elsewhere, and he will grow his fellow Seattle artists with him. For John, Seattle isn’t a stepping stone.  It’s the destination.

    Confidential to John:  carve an hour out of your swamped schedule and let me be one of the first of many to buy you a congratulatory cocktail so I can properly say:

    “Welcome, welcome, a thousand times, welcome. 

    Now… get to work!”

  • Holy Fear

    Holy Fear

    More than once someone has come up to me before an opening of some play I wrote saying something like, “Oh, you’ve been doing this so long you probably don’t even get nervous anymore, right?”  My reply is always: “It’s precisely because I’ve been doing this so long that I’m terrified.  I know all the things that can go wrong.”

    In two days I will be joining the 14/48 team as an actor for the first time.  In the parlance of the Seattle’s venerable “instant theatre” festival, I’ll be a virgin, and thus forced to fetch beer from the keg for whichever veteran demands it.  The fact that I have served as a writer four times makes no difference.  Nor should it.  As an actor, I am a virgin.  I feel like a virgin.  And I have a virgin’s fears.  Or to be more accurate I should say, I expect to feel a virgin’s fears.  I just don’t feel them yet.  It’s one of the blessings of being an actor.  You really don’t need to plan that far ahead.  Actors are soldiers in the trenches. Sure, it’s their ass in the line of fire, but at least they have something to do when the lights rise and it’s time to go up and over.  A playwright, like a general, has to watch in horror– sometimes abject, sometimes surreal– from beyond the action.  Of course there is joy too, but a playwright’s joy comes only in flashes until the final curtain drops.  Until then, anything can, and often does, go wrong.

    So my 14/48 virgin actor fear hasn’t hit me yet, but I have no doubts that by the time of the first morning’s “actors’ draw”, when I find out which play I will be performing and who my director and cast-mates will be, my insides will be doing a nasty free-style crawl towards either end of my G-I tract.  And when it comes time to go onstage for the first performance, I fully expect my swollen heart to be thumping in my chest.  This is only right and proper.  It’s how human bodies process performing publically.  And it’s as it should be. 

    A healthy fear is essential to making theatre.  It is what keys us into the audience’s experience of the immediacy of the moment. If you’re not feeling it, then chances are the audience won’t be feeling much of anything.  And, alas, they’re used to that. If they want “perfection”, they stay home and watch the boob. Our fear as theatre artists fuels the whole machina ex deus that is theatre.  The audience gets off on knowing that the train can leave the tracks at any moment.  Ours is the crucible where the experiment of art is performed—not re-enacted—but embodied in flesh and sweat and spit.  If we already know we’re right— if we know from the outset that the experiment is going to succeed— then we are also already dead.  Fear is life.  Fear is holy.  And in these darkest Northwest days just after New Year’s, fear is also a much needed bolus of bright adrenaline.  I plan on nursing it until the lengthening days can take over.

  • Was Mission Creep/Diffusion the Smoking Gun of Seattle Theatre’s Decline?

    Was Mission Creep/Diffusion the Smoking Gun of Seattle Theatre’s Decline?

    It all started with me bitching about a Stranger review.  (Come to think of it, that’s how a lot of it starts.)  Now, full disclosure, I actually wrote one of the pieces in Balagan Theatre’s outdoor show King Arthur and the Knights of the Playground, but this ain’t my first rodeo, so I can assure you I’m highly unlikely to complain about a review simply because it’s negative.  (Press is press after all.)  What bugged me was that Goldy began his analysis of the show with a quintessentially flawed premise. 

    “If the best children’s theater amuses and engages adults as much as children, then Balagan Theatre’s world premiere … doesn’t make the grade. Still, the kids seemed to love it, and you can’t beat the ticket price—free—for the next three weekends in parks around the city.” 

    So thusly irked, I posted a link to the piece on Face Book along with the following note: “Ah the old, “children’s-theatre-must-also-equally-please-adults”  trope.  How tiresome it truly is.”

    In flooded the comments and quickly the discussion drifted, fueled at times by troll-power alone, to the larger question of whether theatres should feel free to stray from their missions in pursuit of general excellence. 

    Commenter  “I’m not sure why you’re advocating for being “middle of the road” and only pleasing your base. I want theater companies to make great theater.”

    Paul Mullin Why would a children’s theatre seek to have artistic viability outside of being a children’s theatre? That’s like asking a GLBT theatre to appeal to straight audiences. It’s confounding.

    Around and around we went, with narrowly scoped opinions glibly offered as evidence for the larger dismaying trends of Seattle Theatre.

    Commenter  You’re so niche-y! Every theater wants/needs an audience. Yeah, you go after your core demographic, but it also makes sense to go after OTHER demos as well. …. Consistently ONLY targeting one group is boring and not healthy for a theater, artistically or financially.

    Paul Mullin  Can you back this opinion up with any facts? Because it seems to me to be a pretty viable business plan to know your audience and target it…. And I would further maintain that it’s exactly when arts orgs seek to please the aesthetic intelligentsia that they start going off the rails.

    Commenter  Really? So Intiman/ACT/Seattle Rep should only produce shows that appeal to its supporter base, i.e. 65 year old, upper middle class retirees? Constant revivals of Neil Simon and Vanities and Dancing at Lughnasa? Isnt’ that why the big rep houses are dying…they’re aging along with the subscriber base?

    I was just about to beg off the merry-go-round for good when a long-time friend and colleague leaned in with some extremely crisp and compelling insights.

    Rebecca Olson*  This is going to be very shocking, but I actually agree wholeheartedly with Mullin on this one. First, we need to separate the idea that having a clear mission (ie: ensemble generated new work) means doing work that isn’t new/interesting/pushing the box. Having a clear mission is exactly what non-profit organizations are required to do, and what a lot of theaters in Seattle are lacking. What makes a theater excellent is consistently excellent work. Having a clear mission that you stand behind does not make that impossible, and having a broad non-mission (ie: “Our theater is here to make theater,”) does not mandate good work. However, history does seem to be teaching us that having both – a clear mission *and* producing consistently excellent work (ie: Wooden O Theater) creates a lasting organization.

    One of the most enlightening conversations I’ve had in my theatrical life was with the late (and very much missed) Melissa Hines, who described how when the Seattle theater scene was young, the “big” theaters (Rep, ACT, Intiman, Empty Space) each had clear missions, and filled specific niches. This is a broad generalization (so please don’t nitpick,) but basically the Rep did modern classics and newish but box office safe shows from Broadway, ACT was slightly more edgy but close to the Rep, filling in the summer season when the Rep was dark, the Intiman did classics, and Empty Space did brand new/quirky/edgy work. Audiences could subscribe to all four theaters and have a completely different experience at each theater; thus, there was no “competition” for audiences.

    However, at some point the Rep/ACT/Intiman theaters began spreading out and away from their original mission/focus, and all began to look alike (and the Empty Space closed.) As the big theaters homogenized, it became increasingly clear that moving away from their original missions was not allowing them opportunities to push the envelope and try new things. Instead, it was spreading them thin with too many choices and not enough structure; when one has the opportunity to select from the entire canon, from ancient Greece to modern classics to current new regional hits, to plays not yet written, seasons start to look like a dusty college textbook of “what plays are important for you to know about” rather than an exciting collection of stories for artists and audiences to explore together. 

    In addition, this homogenization encouraged audiences to pick one theater and ignore the other theaters; since one season mirrored another, there was no reason to subscribe to all three. This created the climate of competing for an audience.

    Finally, it alienated a lot of lifetime theatergoers, who were irritated at being constantly force fed something not to their liking. While some audiences want to see Shakespeare, others want edgy new work, and some want to modern American classics. Audiences began to feel obligated to watch something they didn’t enjoy because it was part of the season they had chosen to subscribe to. Instead of educating and challenging their audiences, over time it simply lost people completely.

    Thus the crux of my conversation with Melissa, was that to have organizations that last (which are part of an artistically healthy theatre community,) we need to ask our theaters to figure out what they do that is unique and fantastic, and then ask them to do only that, and do it consistently. For example, I would be disappointed if Strawshop decided to dust off “Guys and Dolls.” On the flip side, it seems natural that 5th Avenue produced “Guys and Dolls” this year –and I would be disappointed if 5th Ave decided to try their hand at “The Laramie Project.” It isn’t that these companies are doing every kind of theater all the time; it’s that they have found their niche, and they are filling it well with consistently interesting, artistically sound productions. If I want to see a good musical, I know where to go. If I want to see productions that are intensely creative and topical, I know where to go.

    I am not suggesting an organization become boxed in by a mission that is too confining to allow it to grow, develop and mature over time (ie: Our mission is to produce the plays of Paul Mullin.) I am suggesting that having a mission that is clear but not confining (ie: Our mission is to produce the plays of Northwest playwrights) gives artists/organizations a starting point and framework for choosing their seasons, and gives audiences a clear idea of why they might (or might not) be interested in attending. Missions such as “We want to produce interesting plays that challenge our audiences,” may feel like they allow for more options, but until the statement is so obvious as to be embarrassing (let us all assume that no theater is hoping to product uninteresting plays that bore their audiences), and gives no indication why exactly that organization exists, or what it is offering the community that other theaters are not already offering.

    And I am also not suggesting that artists be completely tied to the organizations they primarily work with; if I belonged to a company that produced new plays but I wanted to do an all female version of Hamlet with myself in the title role, I should either pitch the idea to a local classical company or self-produce.  And if the artistic director of a theater who produces classical worked decided that she wanted to direct a production of a new Paul Mullin play, I would encourage her to again, find a company doing new work to pitch the idea to, or self-produce. A non-profit organization’s responsibility is to serve the community – both the artistic community and the audience. If Seattle theatre history has taught us anything, it is that while sometimes fun for the artists who are involved, muddying the water of your organization’s mission and season with random, off point productions is confusing to your audiences and does not serve the organization in the long run.

    ***

    *Rebecca is an actress based in Seattle, performing with theaters throughout the region. She also has worked extensively as a fundraiser for the arts, both on staff and as a consultant to arts groups of all sizes, as well as a volunteer for several arts boards and committees.

  • Another Step in the Right Direction from ACT

    Another Step in the Right Direction from ACT

    One of the most vital infrastructural components of World Class theatre towns like London and New York completely missing in otherwise vibrant theatre towns like Los Angeles and Seattle, is the intra-city play pipeline: a means for moving, within a given city, successful shows from smaller venues to larger ones so that they can reach more people and, yes, make more money.  With its announcement that it will be bumping up the recent hit Dr. Horrible’s Sing-Along Blog from its birthplace at Balagan Theatre on Capitol Hill to the Allen Theater space at A Contemporary Theatre in the heart of downtown Seattle, ACT seems to be indicating its willingness to attempt opening just such a pipeline.  And as much as it might pain a perpetual complainer to give credit where credit is due, this is by no means the first time in the last few years that ACT has taken a bold step.

    While Intiman flails about trying to figure out how to stay alive, and the Seattle Rep continues to… well, do whatever the hell it believes it’s doing  (Really?  Dancing with Lughnasa is so burningly urgent that you need to stage it every fifteen years?),  ACT has, under the artistic leadership of Kurt Beattie, and the entrepreneurial vision of Carlo Scandiuzzi, charged forward with innovation and risk-taking with an eye towards reaping the significant rewards that taking such risks can bring.  By introducing such novel programs as the Central Heating Lab and the ACTPass, maintaining the success of the Young Playwrights Program,  and nurturing informal partnerships with promising groups like New Century Theatre, Awesome and now Balagan, just to name a few, ACT has managed to do something few regional theatres anywhere can honestly claim: it actually lives up to its hypey catch phrase: “ACT: A Theatre of New Ideas”, and as a result, seems to be positioning itself to dominate Seattle’s theatre scene by creating an eclectic, constantly brimming shopping center of performance in the gorgeous historic old Eagles Building right next door to the Washington State Convention center.

    Apparently for now, of the Three Bigs, only ACT believes that Seattle really can be a World Class theatre town and that one of its LORT houses really can take steps to make that happen.  Now, will ACT keep it up?  In the past they have let crucial programs such as FirstACT and FringeACT die while they strived to stay alive.  The pressure of success is an all-together different beast than the pressure of failure.  Can they keep moving forward when expectations for their operations begin to rise beyond simple survival?  Can they keep taking chances even when some risks will inevitably reap failure?

    Golly, I hope so.  And what’s more, I’m really starting to believe it.

  • The Seattle Rep Offers Us Locals a Little Love

    The Seattle Rep Offers Us Locals a Little Love

    I wrote recently that there are three kinds of playwrights in this town.  Those ardently dedicated to the continuing existence of Seattle’s large regional theatres despite decades of neglect by those Big Houses.  Those, like Louis Broome, who could not care less and would even prefer to see them all go out of business so a healthier model can take their place, (though in fairness, Louis has been tellingly vague on exactly what that model might be.)  And those, like myself, who have at long last decided to make our caring contingent on getting a little love in return.

    Well, I have to call ‘em as I see ‘em, and it sure does seem like the Rep has just offered us a little love, announcing a week-long summer residency for two full-length plays (two writers, two directors and ten actors) and a solo work.  Hit this link for the details:

    http://mail.tmsmail.us/bin/display_msg?id=B6CCE57E73813BE308C4B50A80B531126161775AB5955202 

    The wording is artfully vague, but it certainly sounds as if the Rep has reserved at least one of these slots for a Pacific Northwest playwright. 

    My good friend and fellow playwright, Scot Augustson often wonders aloud to me why I even bother tangling with the Big Houses.  “Is the regional theater stage the end-all be-all?” he asks.  “Is it really the best for all plays and playwrights?”

    No.  I do not think it is.  Certainly my play The Ten Thousand Things premiered in a perfect place for it, the 40-seat Little Theatre that Washington Ensemble Theatre calls home.  The intimacy and rawness of that space made it feel like you were part of, not just observing, Etta Lilienthal’s simultaneously earthy and ethereal design. 

    On the other hand, a play of mine like Louis Slotin Sonata simply could not fit in so small a venue.  And now that I mention it, I recall that the Sonata owes its existence to a new play development program ACT hosted over a decade and half ago, called FirstACT.  A two-week program that matched four local playwrights to local directors and actors and hosted the resulting staged readings for the public.  Not surprisingly, ACT put a bullet in FirstACT long ago: an early sacrifice to the budget woes that they now seem to have finally put behind them.  (Time to bring it back, ACT, and fund it in a less precarious way?)

    My response to this news from the Rep is simple and selfish.  I have a farce that needs working on.  I need to get it on its feet and see how the frenzied action flows.  So I will be dropping the script off with Braden, though, after all the recent grief I have given him, I could understand if he is tempted to toss it in the recycle bin unread.  Oh, and the curmudgeonly Mr. Augustson?  He is sending something in too:

    Yes yes, I’m going to submit something to Braden’s Summer Bellingham. And yes, you can quote me. But, if asked: I am not anti-big guy institutional theater. I just get tired of them being thought of as the only game in town. In other art forms there seems to be more of a respect for a spectrum of scales. And of course, I’m show folk at heart and wouldn’t dream of not kissing some serious ass to get at their budgets and their marketing departments.

    It is almost certainly too much to hope that both slots would go to local writers, just as it is unlikely that either Scot or I will land one, given how much writing talent exists here, and less abrasive too; but at least now I have a frame to fantasize around: a week in beautiful summer Bellingham, my friend and fellow playwright Scot Augustson is there.  We work hard on already strong local scripts.  We push ourselves.  We push each other.  The directors, the actors, all of us push.  We make each other great.

    As the city 90 miles to the South moves a little bit closer to world class.