Jeff Lewonczyk Goes Babylonian

Last month, I wrote the following blog post about my current theatrical endeavor, Babylon Babylon, the latest extravaganza from Piper McKenzie Productions. Writer, director, and co-star, Jeff Lewonczyk, responded on the show’s official blog with tongue firmly in cheek. With the show’s opening weekend firmly under his belt, Jeff finally dropped by the ol’ blog to talk about his much-talked-about  opus and to refute those salacious claims he talked about.

Okay, let’s get the basics out of the way: what the hell is this show?

To state it in layman’s terms, it’s 31 actors onstage recreating events in the Babylonian Temple of Ishtar in the year 539 B. C. as the Persians prepare to invade the city. To put it in a more technical vein, it’s f%#$-ing nuts.

You’ve apparently been wanting to do this show for years. How’d you come up with the idea and what took you so long?

The original idea came from Herodotus – I was fascinated by his description of the practice of ritual prostitution in the Temple of Ishtar , and how pervasive he claimed it was. According to The Histories, every woman in Babylon had to visit there at one point in their lives and have sex with a stranger. This claim seems to be pretty well debunked (Herodotus is called both the Father of History and the Father of Lies, after all), but it set my mind in motion imagining a world in which such an activity would be seen as normal. Of course, I was reading Herodotus on the subway during the weeks leading up to 9/11, and so his description of the Persian sneak attack on the oblivious city of Babylon carried great resonance, and allowed me to sort of expand the vision into a meditation on the joys and dangers of the urban experience. As time went on, I drew from sources as diverse as The Bible, D. W. Griffith ’s Intolerance, Robert Altman’s Nashville, and the oeuvre of Kenneth Anger for inspiration and material.

You’ve used a lot of improvisation to help develop and write the script. Tell us a little bit more about that process and what it means exactly.

Well, I had always conceived of this is as a large-scale show with a sizable cast. I’ve never written a play for 30-plus characters before, and so I never actually sat down to write a script during the whole time I was thinking about it – the prospect was just too daunting. Piper McKenzie’s work in recent years on the Bizarre Science Fantasy dance-theater series helped to pave the way, because the pieces were wordless, and so it taught me a lot about how a piece can be developed in the absence of a written text with actors in the room. Of course, I’d never worked with 30-plus actors, and never used dialogue in those projects, so needless to say there was a bevy of novel challenges when we started work on Babylon Babylon. But the gist was that I had a long list of characters and incidents that I wanted to see. I wrote down character descriptions on index cards and passed them to the group – randomly at first, but with more careful selectivity as we proceeded – and then had everyone get up and do improv exercises as these characters, with a few simple rules to try to keep chaos at bay (the jury’s out on how well we succeeded at that last part). This led directly to casting, after which we did more exercises in character and made recordings, some of which became the basis for certain scenes in the script. Between and around all this work I was also building other scenes and text, and we ended up combining everything into a huge script that got whittled down throughout rehearsals to its current state.

The show is being done with a cast of 30-plus and environmental staging. What made you go with both?

Well, in the first place, I don’t think 30-plus actors would even have fit in The Brick’s proscenium setup, so it was partly practical. More than anything, though, for me the visual hook of the show had always been a grid of mats, or “stations” as we call them, on which the women in the show wait for their co-worshipers to choose them and take them out to the Holy Ground where, well, you know. To me the grid was a symbol of our own city – I’ve always been inspired by the variation and creativity that occurs within the tight geometric frame of Manhattan . And like Manhattan , you can never see the whole thing at once – you have a section, a home territory, that you call your own, and even if it changes (by the day, hour, minute, whatever) you look out at the rest of the city from that vantage. That’s the audience experience I wanted to provide – I wanted the audience to feel that they were somehow part of this world, implicated in it, rather than holding it off at arm’s length.

How did you initially go about casting such a large group?

At first, back in November, I sent out an APB to a large group of actor friends describing the project and asking who wanted to get involved. We had a preliminary rehearsal/meeting in November, and most of the people who attended are still with us. When I realized I wanted the cast to top 30 I started reaching further afield, to people I had barely met or whose work I had enjoyed in a show. I received a few personal recommendations from friends along the way, and trusted them even when I didn’t know the person’s work. In general, my rule was no auditioning – I wanted to meet and talk with people and make sure there was a personal connection at all times. Despite the various places everyone came from, a project like this would never work if everyone didn’t have some sort of common ground, no matter how tenuous.

In addition to writing and directing Babylon Babylon, you’re also in it. Are you nuts?

You’re in the show too, you tell me.

So far, so good. Now tell everyone who you’re playing.

My character is named Logios – he’s sort of the narrator/storyteller who sets the whole thing in motion.  He’s based on Herodotus, but a young Herodotus, who’s still trying to earn his chops regaling audiences with outlandish stories. The depiction is in no way autobiographical.

Your wife, Hope Cartelli, is also in the show. You two have worked together frequently for a long time now. How have you both managed to successfully balance your lives together on stage and off?

Well, if she wasn’t my partner I wouldn’t even HAVE a life on stage – she’s essential to everything that I do, and without her support, imagination, talent, and madness I’d be lurching around half empty. As for the offstage life, well, doing shows together means that we never run out of anything to talk about. Casting her as the High Priestess of Ishtar was no accident – she holds the action together much the way she holds the show and our lives together.

Do you mind telling us a little bit about the history of your theater company, Piper McKenzie Productions - for instance, where’d you get that name?

When we graduated from Bard in winter 1998 we stuck around to put together a show with some friends during the break. It was actually our first – and for many years last – attempt at creating something improvisationally with a group, and as such we were still figuring out what the hell the show was about when the producer of the space asked us to come up with a title for the press release. We sat around for fifteen minutes trying to devise the dumbest name we could come up with, which ended up being Piper McKenzie Presents the Tinklepack Kids in the Great Yo-Yo Caper. When we did a production of The Tempest in the same theatre that fall, we decided, what the hell, let’s keep the “Piper McKenzie Presents,” and after that it just stuck. We moved to the city in 1999 and have been churning out a show or two every year since then, getting ever more hubristic as time goes on.

How the hell can you possibly follow this show up?

I’m hoping to do our next show on a Russian space ship, for a select audience of thrill-seeking millionaires. It will integrate most of the major works of the Western Canon and run for forty-seven hours straight, with a full orchestra and live animals (bears, mostly, but also a shark), all performed in zero gravity.

Are you already thinking about the next show or are you going on a long vacation after this?

Oh, I’m thinking. Always thinking. If I stopped thinking my molecules would unravel. We have The Film Festival: A Theater Festival coming up at The Brick in June (for which I’ll be directing a staged reading of William Peter Blatty’s new play, Demons Five Exorcists Nothing, which is quite possibly more insane than Babylon Babylon), and in December we’re hoping to mount something called The Granduncle Cycle, a series of linked short plays that take place in a mythical Arctic society. If theatre offered benefits I would be happy to take some vacation, but Piper McKenzie is a cruel taskmaster.

Edward Elefterion Goes Down the Rabbit Hole

 

Director Edward Elefterion has been a mainstay on the New York indie theater scene since the early 1990s, but today’s audiences may know his work from more recent productions like The Night of Nosferatu, Land of the Undead, and The Siblings.

His latest endeavor, A Rope in the Abyss (which he also wrote), is currently playing in a variety of unusual locations including a pair of housing centers, a medical center, and a microbrewery. The production will also run at The Blackbird Theatre in April, and is being produced by Rabbit Hole Ensemble, for whom Edward is the artistic director.

Edward stopped by the ol’ blog to talk about the show, his company, and their signature aesthetic, among other things. Take a read…

A Rope in the Abyss is an original play written by you. But you usually work solely as a director. What compelled you to write this one, too? 

Well, truth be told, it’s not the only play I’ve written.  There was The Siblings which I also directed and which was presented at the Midtown International Theatre Festival in 2006, and there are about a dozen more locked away in a vault.  On my hard drive.  I’ve been writing since the late 90s.  This one came about after several monthly meetings I had with some actors in an empty room playing with the idea of identity.  I’d also been reading a lot of books about neuroscience and how the brain works.  And, since I don’t believe in any sort of afterlife, the idea that one day I’m going to stop existing is pretty powerful.  So, I just sort of played with the idea of how fragile identity really is and tried to share my sense of wonder about it all through making a play.   

What does the title refer to? 

In In Search of Lost Time, Proust describes something universal: waking up.  Not a psychological sort of waking or a spiritual sort…but just waking up from a deep sleep.  There are sometimes a few seconds where you don’t know anything, not where you are or what time it is or even who you are, until something catches your senses like a curtain or a glass of water next to the bed and, effortlessly, everything comes back to you.  We all know this experience.  And it’s quite unremarkable when it happens, because it happens so often.  Proust describes the trigger that restores you to yourself as a “rope let down from heaven” that brings you up out of the abyss of non-being, where you just slumbered for a moment or two.  It’s that rope, that way out of nothing and back to your self that interests me.  Because I don’t think this only happens upon waking up.  I think it happens throughout a life.  People change every second, really.  But no one notices until there’s some event to mark the change: a new job, a birth, a break-up, an accident, a return from afar, a move away, all these big life things…they’re all markers of change.  And a person going through them is just as strange to himself as he is to everyone else.   

Luckily, we have hairstyles and clothes, a myriad of exterior cues that keep us comfortably identified.  We have consistent tastes and preferences that express who we really are, regardless of circumstantial change.  Or at least that’s how it seems.  We assume that our characteristics, preferences and behaviors express who we really are on the inside, but maybe, just as often if not more, we look outside for cues to tell us who we are inside.  For instance, maybe the kind of music you listen to is an expression not of who you are but of who you want to be?  Maybe your taste for mint chocolate chip is an instinctual way back to some otherwise lost version of yourself?  Maybe your 9 to 5 gig is what really shapes your attitude towards life and if your job were different maybe you’d be different?   

There are ropes are all around us gathering us up into a sense of self and maybe without them we’d be as utterly lost as we are those moments of waking up.  It’s fascinating to me because it throws the whole idea of “who I am” into the wind like confetti.  It scatters all the million little bits that make up who I am and rearranges them, and potentially makes me a stranger to myself.  We think we know who we are.  Maybe we need to think so because the true nature of identity is really very slippery and fragile? 

Where does your interest in neuroscience stem from? 

It stems from my interest in what makes us who we are.  Discoveries in neuroscience speak so directly to questions of identity that once I found out about it, I couldn’t read books fast enough.  I suppose that I was introduced to neuroscience by RadioLab on WNYC.  Check it out if you’ve never heard of it.  www.radiolab.org. 

You’ve partnered with the Brain Injury Association of New York State to produce this show. How did that come about? 

A friend of a friend works at a rehabilitation center in Connecticut and when he heard about the subject of this show he told me about the Brain Injury Association in Albany and recommended that I contact them.  They’ve been wonderful.  Really supportive and instrumental in connecting us to several interested venues. 

The show is being performed not only in a traditional theater space, but is also traveling to a pair of housing centers, a medical center, and a microbrewery. Why the non-traditional locales, as well? 

Throughout the month of March we’re doing the show for FREE at various locales in Brooklyn.  Why?  A few reasons. 

• 1.  The folks who live in the medical center don’t have the opportunity to go to the theatre and if they did, they wouldn’t see anything that addresses their situations and/or experiences regarding brain injury.
• 2. The folks in the housing communities don’t exactly get out much either and couldn’t afford even cheap theatre (even I can’t afford going to what’s considered affordable theatre).
• 3. The people who make their homes in these facilities (and their families, who are greatly affected too, don’t forget) know a thing or two first-hand about sudden and severe changes in circumstances and identity…so we hope to communicate with these groups directly and learn something from such an audience.
• 4. We really wanted to open these performances up to the public in the surrounding neighborhoods because, frankly, they are underserved neighborhoods and we wanted to reach out and create an opportunity for people to see some theatre. 

And for the record, we are doing a performance at an assisted living center which we do not advertise since it is intended specifically for the residents of the center and is not open to the public. 

The microbrewery stepped up and offered their space because the owner’s son suffered from a brain injury after a cycling accident that eventually killed him, so he’s got a personal interest.   

Come to think of it, the more people I talk to about the subject of this play, the more I’ve learned that brain injury and/or sudden shifts of identity are not as uncommon as they might sound.  It seems everyone knows someone with a related illness.  My own grandfather did not suffer from a brain injury.  But in the last months of his life, he often forgot what he’d just told you.  I mean entire conversations and stories.  I bet you and your readers all can relate to, if not know someone, who is suffering the effects of old age, or alcoholism (any addiction really), road rage…people change in a heartbeat.   

Tell us a little bit about the background and history of your theater company, Rabbit Hole Ensemble, which is producing A Rope in the Abyss. 

Since I graduated from NYU in 1992, I’ve been self-producing in Manhattan.  Over the years I’ve used different aliases: Lefty, Chimera, and Rabbit Hole, because I didn’t want to come out and say Edward Elefterion produces “Blah” directed by Edward Elefterion.  I was shy or afraid that people would think I was an ego-maniac or that I was a novice…or a combination of both.   

The first time I used Rabbit Hole was back in 1993 with a show called Buried Treasure by Stanton Wood, who is now a resident playwright at Rabbit Hole.  Then I went off to grad school at Indiana University, got my MFA in directing, moved to England for about 18 months where I worked with the Midlands Refugee Council and developed a pair of plays with some Bosnian, Afghan and Albanian refugees (this was during the war in Kosovo).  When I returned to NYC in 2000, I got a job at Hofstra University, and I’d resumed self-producing theatre in the city.  Finally, in 2005 I brought some of my colleagues together, namely Paul Daily (and actor whom I’d met in Indiana) and Emily Hartford (one of my very talented former students at Hofstra), to form a theatre company.  We all liked the name Rabbit Hole Ensemble, so that’s what we called it.  Of course, the name is a reference to the portal that takes Alice to Wonderland.   

Your press release refers to Rabbit Hole’s “signature minimalist aesthetic.” What is that, exactly?  And how did you go about developing it? 

Rabbit Hole’s mission is to emphasize the communal nature of theatre through a distinctly minimalist aesthetic that focuses on space, audience, and the performer (especially the basic tools of physicality and voice) to produce a uniquely direct and candid experience.   

Our basic working method is “if it’s not absolutely necessary, cut it”.  That applies to text, design, gesture, blocking, everything that is part of the performance.  I challenge the actor to do as much as possible and work to emphasize the immediacy of the performance by stripping it down to its essentials.  It’s our emphasis on ensemble-creation that really invites and stimulates audiences’ imaginations.   

People constantly tell me that they’re amazed at how much we do with so very little.  That’s the amazing thing right there: it’s not how much we do, but how much they experience.  We just use our skills to create what we need, to suggest enough to each other and the audience so that the production actually happens in the shared imagination of the actors and the audience.  That’s what I think “experience” really means. 

Also, I got into theatre because I like creating something with other people, not waiting in a blackout for the scene to change or the historical accuracy of a hat or buckle on a shoe.  There’s a place for that kind of historically-oriented, design-oriented, spectacle-engineered theatre, but it’s not what I’m interested in.  I want to go to an intimate space and take part in something playful and serious that challenges me to use my imagination and that provokes my mind and body into emotional and intellectual action.  I want something to remember not because it was visually stunning, but because I took part in it, I was involved with it and I’m going to re-experience it to varying extents in the course of time.   

To me, the success of a production cannot be judged by the performance as much as by the re-experiencing some aspect of it the next day or the next week or ten years later.  I want to be a part of people’s lives, and I feel that the more distractions you put in front of an audience, the more you’ll distract them…and why would I want to distract you while I’m trying to commune with you? 

What are your plans for Rabbit Hole after A Rope in the Abyss? 

Big Thick Rod by resident playwright Stanton Wood.  It’s a sex farce about exploitation and the cost of narcissistic capitalism.  It’s a riot and if neither FringeNYC nor the Midtown International Theatre Festival picks it up, Rabbit Hole will produce it in September.  But it’s such a hilariously poignant play I sure hope that it gets the benefit from being included in a festival.  It’d be a shame for such a potentially wide audience to miss out on it.   

After that, we’re considering an adaptation of Woyzeck by Matt Olmos and a new play by the internationally acclaimed poet Jay Wright.  There are a lot of irons in the fire.   

I’d like to add that if people would want to get in touch with us, shoot an email to ed@rabbitholeensemble.com.  We’re always looking to meet new artists and especially folks who are just interested in the mission of the company: strong stories, told simply and theatrically, without much technology.  It’s funny where you might find your next General Manager or Producing Director or Fund Raiser.  Since we’re mostly a group of artists, we sure could use that kind of management-collaboration.  Visit us at www.rabbitholeensemble.com.

nytheatre mike’s Favorites of 2007

My turn to weigh in on my favorite shows of 2007. I saw a lot of them - more so than I ever have in one year, I think - and the good news is that most of them were good. (I frequently tell people that I’ve finally learned what the dirty little secret of New York theater is: most of it is really good.)

This isn’t intended to be a comprehensive or representitive list, however - there were a good many shows I missed (like, say, Frost/Nixon, August: Osage County, Young Frankenstein, and Men of Steel, just to name the first four that popped into my head). No, this list is purely subjective and is meant to highlight the shows that I, personally, got the most out of - the ones I responded to most viscerally and that stayed with me the longest after the proverbial curtain came down.

Also, I saw so many good shows this year that I’ve decided to cite my favorite 15 instead of the more traditional 10. There was no way I could do fewer than 15. It just wouldn’t be right. (Incidentally: shows with highlighted titles link back to my original nytheatre.com reviews - if I reviewed them, that is.)

Okay, enough talking - on to the main event! Without any further ado, my favorite 15 shows of 2007 (in alphabetical order):

• 110 in the Shade (Roundabout Theatre Company): This glorious Broadway revival of Tom Jones and Harvey Schmidt’s musical adaptation of The Rainmaker featured stellar direction by Lonny Price and a knockout star performance by Audra McDonald. This was tug-at-the-heartstrings type stuff that Broadway does better than anyone else.
• All the Wrong Reasons (New York Theatre Workshop): Former “prompter monkey” John Fugelsang cast off the chains of his television persona and reinvented himself as a solo performer to be reckoned with in this riotous and inspirational show about coming to terms with his unusual Catholic upbringing.
• Blackbird (Manhattan Theatre Club): By far, the most haunting and spellbinding theatrical experience I had all year. Jeff Daniels and Allison Pill delivered tour-de-force performances as former lovers trying to face the fallout of their forbidden romance in David Harrower’s intense and disturbing love story.
• Every Play Ever Written (The Brick Theater’s Pretentious Festival): Actor-writer-director Robert Honeywell continued to prove what an ingenious triple threat he is with this deliriously daffy and razor sharp meta-comedy about a theater history lecture gone terribly, horribly wrong. Featuring hilarious, top-notch performances from Brick regulars Moira Stone, Audrey Crabtree, Lynn Berg, and Honeywell himself.
• Invincible Summer (The Public Theater’s Under the Radar Festival): The solo show of the year, hands down. Author and performer Mike Daisey brought together such seemingly disparate threads as 9/11, his own life, and the history of the MTA in a dazzling display that beat the late Spalding Gray at his own game.
• Macbeth: A Walking Shadow (Manhattan Theatre Source): Andrew Frank and Doug Silver’s smart but audacious adaptation of Shakespeare’s classic tragedy fractured the narrative in a cogent way that made this familiar tale new again. Featuring a pair of outstanding lead performances by Ato Essandoh and Celia Schaefer as the title character and his scheming wife, respectively.
• Macbeth Without Words (Piper McKenzie Productions at The Brick Theater’s Pretentious Festival): Director Jeff Lewonczyk ingeniously re-imagined the Scottish play as a silent movie and came up with one of the best and most memorable Shakespearean productions I’ve ever seen - all with nary a word spoken. The fabulous ensemble cast was led by Brick regulars Fred Backus, Hope Cartelli, Bryan Enk, and the fierce Stacia French.
• Nihils (The Brick Theater’s Pretentious Festival): Trav S.D., the man who was seemingly everywhere this year, gave audiences the funniest show of the year - a one-man demolition of beat poetry, performance art, avant-garde elitism, and all things pretentious. Featuring a brilliantly funny performance by the author himself as the title character.
• Oresteia (Blue Coyote Theater Group): David Johnston’s fantastic adaptation of Aeschylus’ classic (and bloody) tale brought Greek tragedy into the modern age with a deft mix of both old and new language. Director Stephen Speights and the rest of the Blue Coyotes gave Johnston’s script the royal treatment on every front.
• The Chronological Secrets of Tim (Impetuous Theater Group): The quarterlife crisis got the Kevin Smith treatment in Janet Zarecor’s brash, coarse, and completely riotous comedy about a slacker who decides to end it all on his 30th birthday. Full of surprising depth and warmth, and some of the rudest, crudest laughs in all of New York this year.
• The Death of Griffin Hunter (Inverse Theater): Inverse’s revival of Kirk Wood Bromley’s epic 1998 political thriller secured the author’s position as one of indie theater’s biggest thinkers and most nimble linguists. True to form, Inverse regulars Al Benditt, Timothy McCown Reynolds, Bob Laine, and Catherine McNelis all delivered outstanding performances.
• The Seafarer (Booth Theatre): Redemption and the supernatural collided in Conor McPherson’s campfire-like tale of four Irish drunks visited by the Devil on Christmas Eve. David Morse and Ciaran Hinds led one of the best ensembles Broadway saw all year long.
• Till the Break of Dawn (Culture Project at the Henry Street Settlement): One of the year’s most overtly political works also had one of the biggest hearts. Danny Hoch’s ambitious and entertaining play about a grassroots group of hip-hop activists who get a rude awakening during a visit to Cuba made politics and social relevancy cool again.
• Victoria Martin: Math Team Queen (Women’s Project): The year’s biggest and best surprise came in the form of Kathryn Walat’s exuberant comedy about a popular high school bombshell’s quest for respect and validation among the school mathletes. A crowd-pleaser forged from the same underdog pedigree as Rocky and Hoosiers.
• Wickets (HERE Arts Center’s Culturemart): Clove Galilee and Jenny Rogers re-set Fefu and Her Friends aboard a jet airliner and made it fly. Armed with a built-to-scale plane cabin set and one of the hardest working ensembles of 2007, this 4-performance-only workshop was one of the year’s most unique and enjoyable experiences.

The list wouldn’t be complete without a few honorable mentions. Here are 16 more that rocked my world in one way or another:

• 33 to Nothing (Wild Project)
• A Beautiful Child (New York International Fringe Festival)
• And (National Asian American Theatre Festival)
• Bill W. and Dr. Bob (New World Stages)
• Butterfly Suicide (SoloNOVA Festival)
• Cyrano de Bergerac (Richard Rodgers Theatre)
• Hamlet (Gorilla Rep)
• Happy Days: The Musical (Paper Mill Playhouse)
• Inherit the Wind (Lyceum Theatre)
• Scout’s Honor (Cardium Mechanicum at the New York International Fringe Festival)
• Suburban Peepshow (Nosedive Productions)
• Talk Radio (Longacre Theatre)
• The Boycott (Arclight Theatre)
• The NECROPOLIS Series (Gemini CollisionWorks)
• Washing Machine (Fist in the Pocket)
• w.m.d. (just the low points) (Sponsored By Nobody)

I could go on and on, but I’ll leave you with that. My thanks to all the wonderful artists on both of these lists - and all the other ones I saw this year - for making 2007 one of my favorite and most memorable years of theatergoing in recent memory. Happy New Year, everyone - I can’t wait to see what you’ve all got in store for 2008!

nytheatre mike Weighs In - Part 2

Picking up where I left off on Monday, I’d like to address something Isaac brought up: reviewers reading the script of a play they’re reviewing before they go see it. This is both a good and a bad idea, I think. On the good side, there is much potential for discerning, as Isaac pointed out, “how much of what’s going on is based on choices…made vis-a-vis bringing the script to life on the stage.” (Which also ties back to what Matt wrote about directors being choice makers and problem solvers.) On the bad side, there exists the very real possibility that reading the script beforehand will blind the viewer to the production on stage in favor of the one already created in his or her head. I don’t think there’s any way one can read a script without doing this to some degree. Which can be very beneficial for anyone who’s working on the production. But, for a reviewer to attempt this with a new play, I think, is ultimately very dangerous.

Then, there’s the whole matter of reviews as marketing. As a former producer myself, I understand the need for a good pull-quote. But, reviewing, in and of itself, is not a marketing technique. Theatre reviewers certainly don’t think of their work as such; producers do. Which is as it should be. But, to think of reviews only in those terms is perhaps a little reductive. Yes, it’s true, a review is only one person’s experience of a given production. But, it’s an experience that theatre artists could potentially learn something from. If the artists look to the audience as their ultimate constituency, then I think they need to include reviewers in that, as well, because reviewers are audience members, too. Isaac hit the nail on the head when he said that “we absolutely cannot look to reviews for any kind of validation.” Definitely not. An artist must validate themselves first, before anyone else tries to do it for them. But, I do believe that theatre artists can (and should) look to reviews to gauge their measure of success.

Reviewing is an imperfect art (or science, depending on how you want to look at it), just like many others. But, I think if it’s approached in a healthy way, it can turn into a conversation between the artist, the reviewer, and the audience that benefits all three. I know I’ve already grown as a reviewer just from having this particular conversation here on the blog, and I’m grateful to Isaac, Don, Matt, and everyone who commented for helping me do that.

nytheatre mike Weighs In - Part 1

My turn to weigh in on the conversation about reviewing directors and directing. This subject has inspired not only a passionate number of comments from the readership, but an entry of its own on my colleague Matt Johnston’s blog, so obviously a nerve was touched. My thanks to everyone who’s commented so far, and by doing so has continued the conversation. And, thanks to Matt for picking up the baton on his blog. More on that in a minute.

Let me start by invoking The Boss. No, not Springsteen: Martin Denton, the editor of this here site. His comment about Part 1 of this conversation brought up an important point: the kind of reviews I like to read, as a theatergoer, are the ones that make me look at something in a new way, and that inspire me to think about (and possibly challenge) my own opinions. And, of course, I also like the ones that make me want to see a given show. Even if it’s a negative review, if there’s something in there that piques my interest (which is completely subjective), then I’ll want to see that show. As a reviewer, these are also the kinds of reviews I try to write.

Having said that,  I got the impression from both Isaac Butler and Don Jordan’s responses that today’s theatre directors feel mighty unappreciated when it comes to reviews. Which is understandable. If I worked a vocation that people constantly misunderstood or misidentified, I’d be peeved, too. (Oh, wait: I do work such a vocation. Never mind. Directors, I feel your pain!)

Matt Johnston took the bull by the horns in his post, and offered what I thought was some really sound advice on how to review/recognize theatre directing. The five main points he brings up are designed for practical application. Having practically applied them myself several times since first reading them, I can testify to their effectiveness.

I also agree with Matt’s assessment that a director is a choice maker who decides what ends up on stage (this echoes a similar sentiment voiced by Don, as well). I’ve always viewed the director’s role as being similar to the coach of a sports team. In sports, the coach designs the overall playbook, and tailors the gameplan to the strengths of the team roster. The coach implements the strategy and the philosophy, then its up to the individual players to execute as a unified team.

Matt was also quick to point out that, ideally, reviewers with practical theatre experience have a better shot at evaluating how directors solve problems than reviewers who don’t. Which is a viewpoint that we, here at HQ, are much in agreement with.

Isaac voiced concern over reviews these days “disregarding basically everything other than the script [his italics]…The reviewer critiques the script as if he or she were reading it.” I understand where he’s coming from. I see reviews like this often. For my own part, I know that I try to talk about the content of a play, and my reaction to it, when writing a review, rather than “critiquing” how a script reads on the page.

It should be pointed out, however, that reviewers often are reading the script. It’s common practice to include a copy of it in the press materials if the production in question is a new work. Which can be an enormous help afterwards in clarifying something Matt keenly mentioned: “which problems are problems of the play, and which are problems of the production.” In that regard, scripts are a valuable resource. But, I never sit down and review just what’s on the page.

More on all this tomorrow. I just wanted to get this ball rolling again, so that you all didn’t think I’d forgotten about it.

Writing About An Elusive Art - Part 3

The discussion on reviewing directors and directing continues today with some comments from my good friend Don Jordan. Don is a director I have worked with consistently for over a decade now. We’ve collaborated on over a dozen projects during that time, so I’m well-versed in his aesthetics and ideology. And, I knew he’d have something to say. I asked Don the same three questions I asked Isaac Butler. Here’s how he responded:

Q: When you read a review of something you’ve directed, what do you want to get out of it?

A: I want a positive review for the show, of course!!! The burden of directing indie theater is that at least 9 times out of 10 you are also the producer of the show. This means that every little bump to help sell tickets is beneficial. But, to answer your question directly, I would say that I always hope that the reviewer will be able to accurately see the intention behind how I have approached the project. I find that the director’s over-reaching approach to a project is the first thing to get washed over by a reviewer because the first thing they want to discuss is their own over-reaching view of the play or performance.

Q: Are there any general things about your work that you hope the reviewer picks up on?

A: Generally speaking, the parts of the performance have come out of the process. So many times you will see a review that lauds the acting and the design then faults the directing. But, how do you think all of things happened, magic? Who ran the design meetings, worked with the actors at every rehearsal, made sure the entire project ran like a team? Reviewers need to understand that the director’s job has as much to do with creating a positive process as it does polishing the final product.

Q: How would like to see reviewers write about directing?

A: Well, maybe thay could imagine the director like the producer of an album. A music reviewer doesn’t fault the producer for a bad singing voice or bad songwriting, they look to the producer for the energy, the approach to the project, that final polish.

I like Don’s music analogy here. A very acute observation, I think. Mine would be a sports analogy, likening the director to the head coach of a team. More on that in my next post on this subject.

In the meantime, feel free to keep those comments coming. There are no shortages of opinions about this topic, it seems, so let’s hear what you have say.

Writing About An Elusive Art - Part 2

As promised, here is the second part of my discussion with Isaac Butler about reviewing directors. Part 1 generated some very interesting responses, especially from my nytheatre.com colleague Matt Johnston, which I will respond to soon. For now, however, let me share with you more of what Isaac has to say: 

Q: When you read a review of something you’ve directed, what do you want to get out of it?

A: Well, I should say that I think the proper way to think about reviews is as marketing tools first, and as records of experience second. I’ll take these in order. In the first sense, all you want to look for is what sentences can I pull to put in an e-mail that’ll make people want to come see the play. These are called pull-quotes, as I’m sure most of your readers know. I don’t care if people are ruthless about this.. This is the dance we’re dancing, the game we’re playing. Aritists and reviewers are using each other, it’s an exchange, so of course we should try to get as much out of our end of the exchange as possible, right?

Also, keeping focused on the marketing end helps keep you sane because a review is, ultimately, simply the record of one person’s experience of the play. That’s all it is. And in that case, you want to look at it and figure out what you can learn from it. With volume of smoke, I solicited a lot of opinion, good and bad, about the show. So when your review came out (largely positive about the directing, mixed-to-negative about the script), it was one voice added to a mosiac of impressions about the play, many of which agreed with yours, and many of which didn’t. And then learning as much as possible from this larger tapestry– if I may use so cheesetastic a word– become the goal.

What we absolutely cannot look to reviews for is any kind of validation or measure of success. Those you have to find and define on your own. I know from In Public that if you look to reviews for it, it’ll drive you batty (and make you insufferable!). When we were doing In Public, it got really good reviews and positive audience feedback. And when the Times review didn’t come for days and days, I went a little crazy. Once it finally wasn’t going to run I was able to look back at what I was doing and go oh, I was looking here for validation. How mad! And it was mad. Also, our constiuency as artists needs to be the audience, not reviewers, not artistic directors of major institutions whom we want to get jobs from, but the audience right there in front of us.

Q: Are there any general things about your work that you hope the reviewer picks up on?

A: I hope my work changes enough project to project that there wouldn’t be a consistent thing beyond what’s going to go into my answer to your next question…

Q: How would like to see reviewers write about directing?

A: In an ideal world, reviewers would’ve read the script before they came and saw the play. I think that way they could see how much of what’s going on is based on choices (not all of which are made by the director, mind you). I would like reviewers to see and report on the choices made vis-a-vis bringing the script to life on the stage. Because, as I wrote on the blog, doing a “transparent” kind of job on a play is itself a choice. As is doing something more “high concept”. Was that choice appropriate for the play you’re watching? Reading In Public, for example, I think you’d expect a production that was more naturalistic than where that show ended up. And you know we disregarded a few stage directions, and created moments were more abstract etc. George was there for all of it, it’s not like we were purposefully going against his thoughts on the play. But I feel for those people who saw the more naturalistic workshop, or had only read the play, seeing our production of it was a bit of a different experience.

So what can we do that we don’t live in that ideal world? I don’t know. Directing as a discipline hasn’t been around very long. It’s still fairly ad hoc and oddly undefined in a lot of ways. So reviewing it is tough. But I think if reviewers thought of themselves as critiquing the production instead of just the script, we’d be in a better place. Even if that meant the directing still wasn’t talked about, but there was more focus on the acting and design.

Also… just to be clear: it’s not that I want the focus that’s going to writers to be going to directors (or more specificaly, me). In traditional text-based theater, the text is really super important, and I appreciate that. I just think it’s in an extreme place right now that puts undue pressure on the script for the choices of the collaborators making the play. I think it’s helped contribute to an environment in which people are very scared to do plays that are unknown commodities.

As you can see, there’s a lot of good fodder here for thought and debate. I have a few responses of my own, but I’m going to let them percolate a little bit longer before serving them up. Check back with me in a day or so.

In the meantime, however, I want to thank Isaac for sharing for his thoughts and ideas with me (and for using the belly-laugh-inducing word, “cheesetastic” - Isaac, you may use that one on my blog any time you like).

Your turn to weigh in, dear reader. Let me hear some more of your responses.

Writing About An Elusive Art - Part 1

One topic that keeps coming up over here at nytheatre.com HQ is how to write about a director’s contribution to a given show in a review. My colleagues and I continue to scratch our heads over this one. Writing about the art of directing can be one of the hardest and most elusive things about theatre reviewing. Even those of us who have directed struggle with it. Personally, I know what goes into directing a show, but it differs from person to person and from show to show. How I do it won’t be the same as how someone else does it. And one’s level of involvement with certain elements can sometimes vary from one project to the next, as well as one’s level of personal and emotional investment. As a reviewer, there’s really no way of knowing who came up with that piece of blocking, or whose decision it was to make the set do that cool little thing, without actually being in the rehearsal room. I can only draw conclusions based on what’s on stage. By that time, it should all theoretically be flowing into one seamless whole.

So, I decided to look at this issue from a different point of view: what do directors want to get out of a review? Constructive artistic criticism? Good blurb copy? Both? Neither? I thought I’d get a director’s take on it, and asked Isaac Butler for his two cents.  Isaac is a gifted and inventive director who has helmed such projects as Clay McLeod Chapman’s volume of smoke, and In Private/In Public by George Hunka. Isaac also writes a passionate and thought-provoking blog of his own called Parabasis (which can be found on the ol’ blogroll).

Isaac was good enough to answer a couple of questions about this, but prefaced them with some preliminary thoughts that called for a blog entry of their own. Here’s what he had to say:

Michael,

These are surprisingly tough questions, given how basic they are. Part of the problem is that the director’s contribution/role in the whole thing is in general almost completely disregarded, not out of malice or anything. Generally, I think it comes from a lack of understanding. Andre Bishop once told the Lincoln Center Director’s Lab something that I quote on my blog a lot, namely, Look, a lot of people don’t understand what you do. They think if the actors spoke quickly and articulated well and the set changes were pretty that a play was well-directed. When I was at Playwrights Horizons, we’d see reviews of plays that had been remounted, that had been panned in their original production, and the reviewers would talk about how great the rewrites were. The script hadn’t changed. The director had. (That’s obviously paraphrasing.)

Unfortuantely in reviews now, I think we’re moving even further in the same direction. Now we’re not just disregarding directors, we’re disregarding basically everything other than the script. So a review’s entire focus (unless the play has a real star turn in it) is on the script. The reviewer critiques the script as if he or she were reading it. And then what you get is a series of one-offs that look like the following (Tell me if this looks familiar or not, maybe you’ve even written them yourself!):

The cast is uniformly excellent/good.

The actors try valiantly to save Martin Crumblebottom’s script. The stand-out in this effort is Melissa Fakelastname.

Briskly directed by…

The set, by XYZ draws on ABC to evoke TYL.

And on and on and on. These one sentence mentions, where the rest reads like a book report.

This is a problem. I think even our dear, beleaguered writers would like the focus to be more on the production as a whole. Acting, writing, design, directing, they all affect each other.

Interesting stuff. And, yes, such one-offs as he mentions do look familiar. However, whether or not I have ever indulged in the use of any, only the nytheatre.com review archive knows for sure.

I’ll have more with Isaac tomorrow. But, don’t let that stop you from adding your two cents on this subject right now.