Madwoman's Attic: In The Attic

First Draft: Who owns Shakespeare?

Over here in Shakespeare-land, we have to do a lot of side-step-two-stepping to entice people to see the shows.  The #1 issue for the vast majority of people that keeps them from attending a Shakespeare play:  “I don’t understand it.”

 

The experience seems strangely daunting, inaccessible, and downright stick-in-the-mud-ish for most people.  Visions of sitting in rigid rows in a freshman English class as a teacher (you can’t really remember her name) poured over every bit of imagery in “Romeo and Juliet” comes to mind and you suddenly have the physical need to escape from the box of a desk that no longer exists.  

 

Shakespeareans spend a lot of time overcoming that visceral response.  We talk about how, really . . the play IS in  English!  We’re not lying! The words are just in a different order.  

 

We explain about “activating the text”—a phrase designed to turn a layperson away from seeing a show—how the actors take specific words in the sentences and punch them and then, sort of, uh, act them out.  You know?  So if you’re watching the actors, you’ll totally know what’s going on!  

 

We talk about Shakespeare’s audiences and how the majority of them were completely illiterate nor did they speak in verse, but THEY could understand it!  Surely, you’re smarter than a 16^th century peasant, right?  

 

We try to set the plays in more “relevant” settings, we put them outdoors, we put them in intimate black box theatres, we have preshow discussions to explain the show, we have post show Q & A’s to explain the show AGAIN.  We put directors notes in the programs and study guides on the websites.  

 

We go out of our way to ensure that ANYBODY from ANY NEIGHBORHOOD and with ANY set of interests could come and enjoy our founding father, The Bard.  

 

And it actually makes us feel good—especially in the U.S. – this touting of Shakespeare as democratic.  He belongs to everyone.  Everyone can understand him and own him.  

 

But in this moment, right now. . . . I think that’s bullshit.  

 

No, you don’t have to have money to understand and own Shakespeare.  The “cultural elites”, in fact, sometimes have too much rattling around in their overstuffed brains to really own—or enjoy—Shakespeare.  

 

No, you don’t have to know theatre inside and out to own and understand Shakespeare.  Experience working with actors is sincerely not required.  

 

And no, you don’t even have to have read the plays to own and understand Shakespeare.  

 

In order to own and understand Shakespeare, you simply have to have the balls to fully invest and partcipate.  You can only understand Shakespeare—or enjoy a Shakespearean production—if you make the effort to understand it.  

 

What?  Isn’t showing up making an effort?  

 

NO.

 

Showing up is the act of walking in the doors and getting to your seat.  You do that every night in front of your TiVo.  

 

But think about it—If a Shakespearean actor went to see any live sporting event, amateur or professional, and simply sat back in his seat, ate his nachos, and stared waiting for something interesting to happen, he probably wouldn’t have the best time.  But if he sits forward in his seat, watches the plays, attempts to empathize with the principle players or the coaches or the losing side, suddenly he become caught up in the outcome of the game.  Even if he doesn’t understand all of the rules or the terminology, he can tell when something good has happened to those in whom he has an investment and when they’re falling behind.  He’ll find himself understanding the game by giving it his full attention and a bit of a personal investment.  

 

It is no different with Shakespeare.

 

There is a reason so many of his plays begin with a prologue or a lenghtly opening monologue.  It is a welcoming, a greeting, and a way of preparing the audience for the play to come.  It is a way of saying, “Listen!  Think! Imagine! Work with us in telling this story!”

 

Think when we talk of horses, that you see them
Printing their proud hoofs i' the receiving earth;
For 'tis your thoughts that now must deck our kings,
Carry them here and there; jumping o'er times,
Turning the accomplishment of many years
Into an hour-glass:

goes a line in the prologue to Henry V.  Your job is to fill in this world with your imagination.  Your job is to empathize with the characters and to answer their questions for them. Your job is give us the energy that helps to fill in the story.  

 

When any audience member shows up and does their job, they understand Shakespeare.  A well told, well spoken Shakespeare play allows audiences to share in the mind of this genius and begin to grapple with the human questions he posed.  

 

When the poetic faith between performer and audience member is achieved, the questions stay with them afterwards and reminds them of a deeply satisfying experience.  Entertaining, yes. . . but more.  One that helps them wrestle with their own ideas of existence and what it is to be human.  

 

That is not escapism—straight entertainment, “divertissement”.  No, it is an activity, and a rigorous one at that.  It is something requiring energy and focus.  

 

The people who cannot own Shakespeare are those who show up and do nothing more, who detach themselves from the performance and from their fellow audience members.  Who disengage in order to evaluate lesser things in the production.  

 

If a question arises about the choices of an actor, someone who owns Shakespeare will try to answer the question in terms of the character or themes of the production.  If they cannot be answered sufficiently that way, then turn to evaluating the acting or directing.  

 

If a concept or idea presented is baffling, ask “What is it trying to say?”  Once answering that (or providing some ideas), then make your judgments on how well it was executed or the relevance of the idea.  

 

But mostly, those who own and can understand Shakespeare first experience everything the play can give them and tries to help it along.  After that, they tackle the questions of evaluation, relevance, and execution.  

 

Anyone can understand Shakespeare, if they can cowboy up and take it on—invest, experience, listen, and participate!  

 

He’s only the greatest playwright in the English language, if you want to own THAT, you bettah WORK!

****

first draft  -- hdp

Thoughts on a first run through (or "stumble through" as I call it)

Anne Bogart says that the "constant state of any company of actors is one of continual crisis".  Just the act of performing an objective upon another being is an act of crisis.  A third party "judging" the action, is a crisis. 

On a first run though we have two choices:  1) To ignore any sense of action or crisis, retreat to "reinforcing the blocking" and having little in teh way of progress occur in terms of the acting, or 2) we can face the crisis-- the questions, the insecurities, the lapses of memory with bravery, with clear-sightedness, and was can see what happens in the process.  WE can retreat or we can discover.  I ask you to choose the latter tonight.  Stay focused, show curiosity and generosity, and infuse as much as you are capable of at this early stage of the process. 

Do not judge-- just act and take action.  Let's begin to meet this play and really get to know it better.  Have a conversation with Shakespeare and each other and see what comes to the surface.  Teh crisis is worthwhile.  This is not about getting it right.  Tonight is about beginning to get it alive. 

Read to the cast of Richard III, July 14, 2009

Arrival at Shakespeare and Co

So, after sixteen some-odd hours of journey time, I have arrived in the Birkshires.  The flights went as well as can be expected and some fun times with humanity ensued.  But the final journey in was the best.  Of course, to a west-coast bred girl, this part of the country looks like something off a backlot where a Hallmark movie is being shot.  I kept thinking "Do people really LIVE in these houses?? With these clapboards and bright colors and shutters against the snow?"  Weird. 

Anyway, I'm now happily situation in my dorm room at the Shakespeare and Co campus.  This week will probably settle those Whitworth yearnings I've had from time to time over the last few years.  I had to re-learn how to walk on snow and ice.  There are cute buildings and trees everywhere.  No pinecones, though. 

Anyway, I've been up much longer than my body likes to be, so I'm going to get a couple hours of shuteye and then go officially register.  Then I get to hike my booty a half a mile uphill to get something to eat ( I wish I could say it was in both directions, but i cannot).  I will very likely lose ten pounds by the end of this week (with any luck!). 

Will likely write more after hearing Tina Packer speak this evening.  Fun!

Shakespeare Santa Cruz needs $300k by next week

Update 12/22-- SSC exceeded their goal and raised $416,000 in one week.  Congrats!

*************

I was so devastated by the headline:  "Shakespeare Santa Cruz:  To be or not to be?" that I literally GASPed. 

The board of directors of UCSanta Cruz has had to pull its traditional year-end coverage of SSCs budget deficits because its own budget is being "eviscerated" by the State of California (as called for by Gov. Schwarzenegger).  It's an ugly pickle to be in for both sides of the table-- they've been negotiating for two months over this-- but there it is.  Another non-profit theatre in God's little acre:  East of the Rock and West of the Hard Place. 

Many non-profit arts organizations operate with a certain level of operational deficits.  But regular capital raising campaigns, the development of an endowment as a nest egg, and the occasional lucky large-sum grant often helps raise their financial profile on a fairly regular interval. 

But more and more theatres this year have found themselves in a perfect storm of economic destruction.  If their operational deficits have built on top of each other year after year with nothing to buoy them, they find themsleves La Jeune Lune'd. 

The economic crunch left Oregon Shakespeare Festival with a $750K deficit this year.  Lake Tahoe Shakespeare had to raise $90K in less than a month this summer to keep going another year.  The Tony Award Winning Theatre de la Jeune Lune famously closed its doors with a 2 million dollar deficit in June due, apparently, to mismanagement alongside the fiscal crunch. Milwaukee Shakespeare has also closed its doors, The Public in NY dropped a major new play, and Charleston Stage has cut its staff in half-- all due to loss of funding.  Even the Edinburgh Fringe Festival in the U.K. had to ask for a 500,000 pound bailout package from their government to keep it going another year.  (Ahhh, to see arts organizations being given bailout packages from their governments!)

And now Shakespeare Santa Cruz.  I have little doubt that the community of Santa Cruz will find the money to support the festival-- they love it so.  But it still feels . . . well. .. gasp-worthy that all of this should be happening so FAST to such successful theatres in the U.S. 

I guess the coming years will show us some new ways of doing shows-- managing them, producing them, staging them.  Innovation, managing to do more for the community with less, is definitely the name of the game. 

Whole lotta theatre going on.

A whole lotta theatre going on.

So, both of my theatre jobs are fully underway.  Last night I put forth a cycle of plays for the Raisin Cain Players in Selma and it was universally admired and will be scheduled perfectly for the year.  So my life as a director producer swings between Shakespeare for the masses to commercial plays for a small community.  I actually like that blend of things. 

The one thing I've insisted on for the Selma job is that the scripts be superior.  One of my strengths as a commercial director is my taste in scripts.  I know how to choose really good ones-- script that are a pleasure to direct and act, and therefore a pleasure to watch.  A superior script is also better for amateur actors in that since things are clearer, more purposeful, and less dodgy, there is something for amateur actors to grab onto and run with.  A mediocre book leads to a lot of muddy, bad acting choices that I, as a director, have trouble fighting against. 

With the Shakespeare. . . well, it's Shakespeare.  Which doesn't mean it is perfect or not problematic (ever tried to stage the ending of Measure for Measure and make it satisfying?).  But the productions should have a strong understanding of the text and the concepts should support the text and not be grafted on top of it.  It is definitely harder to produce with amateur actors, but that's part of the challenge! 

So, anyway, for the next however-long I get the joy of working some lovely commercial scripts that I've wanted to do for a while and some challenging Shakespeare that always charges me up.  :D

The shows on the books right now are:
The Foreigner (directing and producing, runs May 2009)
As You Like It (producing. . . I might audition, too. It seems to be a habit with me, that show. Runs, June-July 2009).
Richard III (producing, runs August-September, 2009)
The Canterville Ghost (directing and producing, runs October 2009)
A Christmas Carol (directing and producing, runs December 2009-- opens on my birthday)
Annie (directing and producing, runs May, 2010)

And then, of course, we arrive at the unknown WSF 2010 season, where, mayhap I'll direct? We'll see!

*note. .. I use the term "commercial" loosely. .  Shakespeare can and is very commercial in that there's a built-in audience for it.   But commercial to me is anything sellable in a relatively traditional theatre format that is accessible to a pretty broad audience-- even if they've never heard of the show.  Godot doesn't qualify for me (interest and general accessibility factor) and neither do a lot of the Fringe Festival entries. Turn of the Screw did, because it was sellable, accessible, and yet superior in its script-- even in its non-traditional staging.  Anyway. . . We could have discussions for days about the meaning of the words "commercial", "accessible", "non-profit", "audience friendly" and how they relate to superior scripts and where and when and how those shows belong in the world.  Mostly, I just want to avoid mediocrity in the scripts I stage and well-made theater is nearly always "commercial" in some form. 

Working in the tee-ya-tah

So, in the last week and a half I have landed not one, but TWO positions in Fresno County Theatres.  Yes, paid positions.  And, essentially, they're the same position at two different companies-- with the exception of one is paid by a city government and requires more marketing and such.  The second is a more clearly defined artistic position. 

The first job I officially landed was as the Performing Arts Director for the City of Selma Arts and Recreation.  They have a community theatre there called the Raisin Cain Players (raisin capital of the world) and they decided to hire someone to run it and direct on a regular basis.  I'll be producing three shows a year and probably directing two of them.

The second position is as the Artistic Director for the Woodward Shakespeare Festival.  Those of you in the theatre world know that the title "Artistic Director" is a much coveted title because that's the person who drives the artistic and quality vision of the company.  The title alone is worth its weight in gold-- if you actually DO something with it.  I've beein doing some admin work for them as needed over the last six months, so they just decided to define the role and start paying someone.  I suppose I was there, and that made me a natural choice.  lol! 

So, I'm now working a full schedule doing nothing but theatre.   Which is a dream come true, really. . . especially since Fresno County doesn't really have an industry for this kind of thing.  There are very few people here making their living producing theatre -- who don't have to teach along side it, anyway. 

So, these days I'm getting my bearings at both of these positions. . . so be patient with the blog issues! 

A Message from the Universe

. . . by way of local grocery stores.

Numbers don't lie. . .

So, I was updating my theatrical CV today and decided, just for "fun" to see how many man hours I've logged in on theatrical productions/studying theatre/teaching theatre over the last 15 years. 

I actually went show by show and job by job and worked out how long the rehearsal process was, how long prep times were, workshop times, hours by number of weeks in a class, performance lengths x number of performances, set building weekends (av. 4 hours per weekend day on a set), etc, etc etc. . . .

It worked out to 9,002  hours over the last 15 years.  If I had added in the ten plays I've dropped from my CV I might have gotten almost to 10,000 hours. 

But 9,000 hours over 15 years is 600 hours per year.

Which is 11.5 hours per week.

Which is 1.5 hours per day.  (With no days off, holidays or anything).

So if you take into account the holidays, the production breaks, the recuperation time after a burn out session. . . . that actually looks more like a part-time job than  people give it credit for. 

Let's do that math:

Okay, out of 52 weeks every year, I usually average two major productions and three small events (staged readings, play workshops, etc).  And I tend to be involved with a company even during my light times which usually requires a couple of hours a week of work during the slow times. 

So. . . . 1 year - average 12 weeks of prep/rehearsal - 6 weeks of performance days - 32 days of administrative work- 7 days  of special events prep, - 20 days of work filed under "other" (company errands, special meetings, covering house managers, etc. . . ). . . . = 185 days.

That's slightly more than 6 months a year I work on theatre stuff.    And I'd actually say that's been the average over the last 15 years.  Some years I did way more and some years I didn't do more than one show, so. . . I'd say that's a very good estimate. 

So, what's the real tale of the tape? 

9,002 hours divided by 15 years= Average of 600 hours per year.  Squeezed into 26 weeks (185 days)= 23 hours per week or an average of 3.2 hours per day during those actual theatrical working times of my life.

How do married people do this?

Sorry to bore you with a numbers post, but I found it fascinating.