Things, arranged.

The Studio Seattle

After decades as a professional director of television and theatre and university professor of drama, I am now embarking on a new venture.

The Studio Seattle is a place where actors can go deeper, challenge themselves, explore more and improve their craft with a focus on getting actors ready for the real profession.

There is a vibrant and dynamic acting community in Seattle, but there is a dearth of instruction from teachers who have actually worked at a national level. I'm talking prime time television and nationally ranked professional theaters along with top-ranked MFA actor training programs.

I've been there. I know what it takes. 

If you are interested in taking your craft to the next level, check out The Studio Seattle's workshops and classes. And yes, I have a blog there about acting, too.

Because there is no substitute for real experience.

The Actors Guide to Human Nature

This may be off putting at the beginning, but bear with me...

Understand that all humans are inherently: Selfish, Stupid, Lazy.

Humans will always prefer to gain as much as possible while knowing the least and doing as little as possible.

Understand that the sources of all human desire are: Acquisition, Rivalry, Vanity, Power.

From philosopher Bertrand Russell: the need to have more, have more than another, be self-centered and seek leverage over others.

Understand that the hidden causes of human actions are: Fear, Guilt, Shame.

Humans are afraid of what they do not understand and will always be motivated to avoid or attack what they fear, or will pursue actions based on a fear of what others and their own consciences may judge them as. Humans carry guilt over who and what they have done, and endeavor to suppress it. Humans are ashamed of their own actions that are the result of their true nature and will try to dispel this.

Understand that the human circumstance is: Denial of all of the above.

Humans will always deny all of the above because it is simply too hard to face the truth of who and what they are.

Understand that the singular human capacity that counters this situation is:

LOVE.

From Jacques Derrida: after all is understood about humanity, there is hope because we have the capacity to love, which is the only human trait that can help a person rise above their condition.

None of these concepts are to be taken as cynical or pessimistic. They are simply attributes of a sentient being that is trying to find the “best” way to survive and thrive in the world. The capacity to love allows a human being to care more about something or someone outside of their experience, thereby raising the possibility of recognition, acceptance, examination and choice.

These choices then become human actions.

Love is Everywhere

The Edinburgh International Festival 2017

As Meow Meow careens through her cabaret re-fraction of Hans Christian Andersen's The Little Mermaid, she lays bare her broken-heeled down at heart seen too much / felt too deep train wreck life with wit, style and brutal self-awareness. She also takes us deep down into the depths of her psycho-sexual psyche with astounding virtousity in song, movement, effortless aerial work and deadly-sharp humor.

Meow Meow's little mermaid is longing for Love, but trying to define it, shape it, see it and say it becomes increasingly difficult as she attempts various stratagems to own it. The meta-feminist tropes are here, too: the problem of being objectified and wanting to be objectified, the need to be authentic and accommodating, the seemingly intractable problem of male unwokeness.

What makes Meow Meow's cabaret a shining jewel of a theatrical experience though, is the incredible presence, power, grace, style and vocal brilliance of Meow Meow herself. Her command of the room, the story, the music and the mode of performance are simply at a level akin to someone like Mick Jagger in a 75,000 seat stadium at the height of his powers. Rare, mysterious and to be reckoned with.

In deconstructing the idea of the classic cabaret chanteuse, Meow Meow informs her songs with the true-to-life flaws that are meant to be hidden beneath the polish and romance of the performer. The old school cabaret singer would drop a world-weary anecdote here, a witty bit of repartee there, but they would channel their true self-revelations into the song stylings. Meow Meow decides to expose the woman behind the persona and in doing so creates another layer of persona that creates a wonderfully complex experience for the audience: Meow Meow is a character created by the actress who is performing a cabaret, and her character is playing another character, and at the same time, she is pulling back the curtain to let us see woman inside of it all. It is a brilliant mirror ball game that ultimately reflects back to us our own flaws and hopes.

Meow Meow also employs a few just-for-fun surprises that play into this show on a show inside a show on top of a show concept. Is this a part of the show? Are we really supposed to do that? Wait. Okay. Is she really...? Who cares. We are in Meow Meow's firm, tickling grasp. Let's dive deep with her.

With Ad Infinitum, the heart is a Translunar Paradise

Jacques Lecoq created a startling physical vocabulary for actors that has become a recognized style throughout the world. Based in the rich and vast history of European clowning, Lecoq also brings the power and grace of the dance and ballet together with the natural, human centered movement attributes of the human body. Together, Lecoq allows an actor a wide range of specificity, complex characterization and stage presence that is unmistakable when articulated with virtousity.

Ad Infinitum theatre includes two Lecoq trained actors, Deborah Pugh and George Mann.  They are former students of my friend Jason Turner of l'ecole Lecoq in Paris, who taught me so much about what questions to ask about the human body in the theatrical space. Their show at this year's Edinburgh Fringe, Translunar Paradise, is a powerful and artfully rendered tale of life before and after loss.

Deborah and George play a simple couple from the early years of courtship and romance to the lonely and nostalgic final days of life. Their consumate command of Lecoq technique delivers detailed characterizations of the nuances of everyday living through the years: a meal, a walk, a disagreement, a heartbreaking loss and finally, death. All this while not a single word is ever uttered.

The accordian player and singer stands in as a sort of chorus, aiding the characters with a prop here or a helping hand there, all the while offering poignant and evocative vocalizations to enhance her languid accordian soundscape.

Theatre practitioners should always ponder the essential elements that are placed in the Time and Space of the Moment before an audience. What is necessary? What is the theatrical vocabulary being employed? What is extraneous? What is the central theatrical "gesture" of the piece? How does all this live in the realm of metaphor, which is the core identity of the theatrical impulse?

These days, more often than not, the stage is used and abused as a place for narcissistic identity politics, clumsy polemic, self-validation and trite, shallow observations masquerading as artistic profundity. It is the curse of the millenial theatre space, a place where the choir can be shouted at and the 'safe space' cuddle-need is indulged.

To see virtuousity of technique, universal human mysteries explored, questions asked without simple answers and the naked honesty of human frailty,  spend some time with Theatre Ad Infinitum's Translunar Paradise.  At the Pleasance Courtyard in Edinburgh.

 

The Verse: A brief fiction

To my dear friend in letters, Mr. William Shakespeare;

Forgive the hasty and informal manner in which this missive arrives in your hands. Brevity is required, as the events of recent days in London have made time a terrifying and insistent companion of late.

You may find this request odd; indeed I have been trepidatious in penning it. However, with your indulgence, I will plunge forth.

My situation is dire: my home and belongings have been seized by the crown. My financial state is one of ruin. My reputation has been sullied and subjected to the darkest of scorn. The nefarious agents of the notorious spymaster, one Sir Francis Walsingham, have hounded and harassed me to distraction.

You will inquire of me; why have these conditions befallen you, dear friend? Indeed, it is our long friendship that forces me to become a supplicant to your benefice.

The answer to that question is both simple and singular. All this calamity has been visited upon me because I wrote a verse.

Because all printed copies of my work, pamphlet and quarto alike, have been banned, I must render this poor poem here in the hope you will understand. If understanding leads to sympathy, and sympathy leads you to taking on the role of the Samaritan, then I could consider myself a man of inverted fortunes; from damned to blessed.

If you could find it in yourself to intervene before the gallows and the rack become my destiny, one more writer would be saved, unworthy as I am to call my self poet in your presence. I beg of you, do what you can. Even now I hear the hooves approaching on the road. My hiding place is discovered. If it is my fate to leave this world because of words, then words are what I shall leave behind. Fare you well, Will, if we should never meet again.  No more delay, here is the offending verse in question:

Should there be a sun upon the shore?

What deserves this salten strand of solace?

Inequity resides in better climes, be sure.

Why should not night be fixed along the edge?

Who calls again to raise the siege of scorns?

Injurious time doth blight the eye of hope;

How then would this escape a fate aligned?

Only recall the name that's stamped here,

This England island ship of solemn grace,

Let gilded dark give way to morning shine!

Crown, fall! Voices, rise! No meteor it was,

Tarnished 'round which held thy youth at bay.

        Look now, a newborn sky of endless blue!

        Embrace the Time, dear land, yet I'll be true.

 

Mise en place, mise en scene

In the kitchen, mise en place refers to the chef's process of preparing ingredients and setting them in an ordered arrangement for eventual inclusion in a given recipe.

The selection, preparation and arrangement of ingredients before the cooking phase allows a chef to quickly access the right ingredient at the right moment when the heat is on.

A director's work requires a similar approach: selection of the text, selection of the performance space, selection of the actors, selection of the designers, selection (determination) of certain themes, throughactions, dramatic questions, aesthetic gestures, form, dynamics, etc.

Most of the time some of these ingredients are selected for us: we are hired to direct a certain play at a certain theater. Sometimes we are given certain key elements to work with: a certain actor, a certain designer.

That being said, the director must still engage in a careful process of mise en place: a clear understanding of each element, its nature, its benefits, its drawbacks, its role in the project. Then, when how to bring each element into the process and to what degree.

Once the heat is on, there is little room for error. The rehearsal period is finite, the opening night is set. When is the right moment for this element or that influence? How much sway does one allow the element when it is included? What is happening during the "cooking"? Are the ingredients blending correctly? Is one element underused? Is one overused?

Great chefs do not need measuring cups nor need to be told when an ingredient should be included. They work from feel, taste, observance, aroma and most importantly, instinct.

Successful directors develop an intuition for this process as well. Is it the right time for that note to the actor? Is it the right note? How are the elements coming together today? How will they blend over time? When is the dish ready to be served? Does this coincide with the schedule?

Many inexperienced directors begin the "cooking" process in a state of hope. They believe things will work themselves out in the rehearsal process. They have an overestimation as to their own leadership and artistic clarity. They have not examined the ingredients deeply enough, nor anticipated the potential problems with certain ingredients they have either selected or been assigned. Rehearsals become a labor, and dish begins to become confused. Timing is thrown off. Ingredients are not blending well. Unforeseen obstacles start to dominate the process. Ultimately, the project / dish served is muddled and unsavory.

Because the nature of many of the elements directors need are difficult to determine, there is always the potential for disaster. However, a director should engage in a rigorous process of learning the nature of each element that will be used.

Who really is this actor? What makes them tick? What are their assets? Their shortcomings? What do you know about their personality? What impact will their personal issues have on the project? 

How does this designer really think? What are their values, their impulses, their limitations?

Who comes to this theater? Why? What is the relationship between the project and the audience? What will it mean to them? What is the nature of the dialectic between the work and the viewers? 

Are your assessments / determinations regarding the text accurate? How well do you understand the writer's work / aesthetic / style / form / language / purpose?

Finally, are you being clear and honest with yourself as to how you believe all these elements will come together to make the best work possible? Are you serving another agenda? For example:

"I want to work with this person." Why? Are they right for this project, or right for you?

"I want to work with these people." Why? Are they the best you can get, or are they the best at making you feel good about yourself?

"I want to do this kind of work." What for? What does this work do for others?

"I love this play." So? Go and hug it in the privacy of your own room. Why should we love it?

"I have something to say." Write a blog post. No one gives a shit what you have to say. (Sorry, that's a particular irritation of mine: art as a narcissistic podium for self-expression.)

This aspect of mise en place interrogates the director / chef's own role in the cooking. Am I the right person to make this dish at this time? What is the task at hand? Do I understand what is required? Is my technique up to the task?

All of this work is a kind of mise en place, a difficult process that can bring a kind of clarity to the work. Before you turn on the burner, be sure the right ingredients are each in their place, including yourself.

May all your dishes be remarkable.

The universe in a quill

From the sharpened point of a quill, Shakespeare let flow a torrent of words that somehow described the entire universe of human existence, philosophy, politics, society, economics, family, love, theology, ethics, emotions and essentially every dimension a human being can experience.  That smallest of points, where the tip of the quill released the ink onto the page unleashed words that have never been equalled by anyone else who likewise put ink to paper.

I always took it for granted that a playwright living in an age after Shakespeare would on some level aspire to this most daunting of propositions: "to hold a mirror up to nature" as Hamlet declares. Mirrors show everything, the kind and the unkind.

In my own time as a stage director, I have observed an unsettling and noticeable shrinking of dimension, scope, use of language, thematic landscape and ideas in contemporary playwrighting. A gross generalization, of course, but nonetheless an identifiable trend.

After the Reagan era, we entered the Clintonesque anti-idealism of The Small Idea. Reluctant to stand for either traditional conservative ideas or the progressive vanguard, Clinton exalted in the concept of "The Third Way." Its upside was compromise for the sake of a perceived movement forward. Its downside was an entire generation raised to believe that the object in between, the Self, was to be placed at the center of  all experience. Call this "The Third Person" problem. Many "millenials" grew up perceiving themselves as distinctive beings who could see how their surroundings informed their circumstances and ultimately eschewed a personal politics of idealism for the practicality of self-advancement. This was the underlying legacy of the dotcom boom of the 1990s and the economic revelery that came to a crashing halt in 2008. Plenty was everywhere and committment was nowhere. Avarice was ennobled and sacrifice was derided. The third person belonged to no side of the great dialectic, and was therefore free from the the complexity of considering that the Thing and it opposite could actually exist in the same universe. Bush II and Obama were both men of this spiritually dwarfish generation, extolling incremental ambitions while couching their puny initiatives in the rhetoric of tradition: Bush waged war for oil and influence while at the sames time emptily puffing the words "freedom" and "democracy." Obama equivocated his way from flawed policies to doomed programs while at the some time hollowing words like "hope" and "justice." Both of them, lawyers by trade, were far more comfortable with the minutae of the legal brief than the frightening world of the Big Idea. 

In the cultural landscape of this realm of smallness stands the American playwright: armed with an MFA from some bona fide institution of higher learning, he or she puts quill to page, or more accurately, opens word processing software, begins writing in miniature and continues the diminishment to the point of invisibility. What are the subjects of these writings? They are by definition worlds defined by self-indulgence and rigidness of scope.

Let us name the familiar categories of American contemporary playwrighting:

The drama of identity politics - I, and those like me, suffer nobly at the hands of monsters and must be liberated because me.

The drama of blame - I, and those like me, suffer from the hypocrisy of previous generations and should have the sympathy of all because hurt.

The drama of pity - I, and those like me, feel terribly about the injustices of the world, and want you to feel terribly about them as well. For the low price of $45.00.

The drama of irony - I, and those like me, need to make ironic and witty comments about the state of things and need you all to hear them. For the low price of $75.00 (It's a comedy with a live band, after all!)

The drama of masturbation - I, and those like me, need to devise an evening of self-indulgent and undramatic claptrap that must include excruciating modern dance, original poetry and "physical theatre" because we are gifted and need to share our rare artistry all over your laps. Hey, it was only "pay what you can."

Thus, ever smaller and smaller is the scope of the modern american stage, and ever more righteously pedantic and polemic is the voice of the modern American playwright.

It is quite an occasion to stand among these people when 12 people, eight of whom are family and friends, attend these shows. The look of bewilderment and incomprehension is remarkable. They simply cannot understand why the world is not flocking to their mini-worlds.

It's pretty simple: real people just can't fit into the tiny room of your theatrical imagination.

Give me a writer, one writer, whose quill expands the world instead of conflates it.

The Road

 

THE ROAD

A new music / theatre work by Gil Martin and Andrew Tsao

Combining original songs / music, projected visual landscapes / environments and dramatic vignettes / spoken word elements, THE ROAD is a theatre work that explores the mythos of the American West and the American dream through a panorama of characters who are all on a common journey: to find the America they imagine exists somewhere down the open road.

Promise and disappointment, patriotism and individualism, home and wanderlust, violence and redemption, faith and disillusionment are all present in this meditation on the evolution of the American Dream and American Nightmare. Imagine Sam Shepard bringing his themes of lost Americana to Bertolt Brecht’s epic theatre style, then add Bob Dylan and The Band as a chorus.

The characters live out their adventures against the backdrop of an evolving theatrical landscape scape of digitally projected paintings and images that evoke locations and thematic elements in the story by visual artist Gil Martin. Although set in the early 212t century in a mythic America, THE ROAD also evokes the American west of the late 19th century and borrows from iconic literary work by John Steinbeck, Willa Cather, Flannery O’Connor, William Faulkner, James Baldwin, Herman Melville, Walt Whitman, W.E.B. Dubois and features original texts by Andrew Tsao and the acting company.

The music comprises all original songs written by Gil Martin and Andrew Tsao, and is directed by Andrew Tsao.

American Premiere: 2017, Seattle. International Premiere: 2018, The Edinburgh Festival

This project is funded in part by a grant from the Donald E. Peterson Creative Endowment and is produced in cooperation with the University of Washington School of Drama.

The Power of Noh

 When form and the aesthetics of formal art are practised with great reverence for aproximately 600 continuous years, something transcendent occurs.

The Japanese Noh theatre is such an art form. On my recent stay in Tokyo, I went to the National Noh Theatre of Japan for an evening that was completely absorbing, mystifying and astonishing.

First, there is the space: the National Noh Theater of Japan space is configured in the classic Noh design. A long entrance on house left, the square stage supported by four distinct and named posts, an upstage area for attendants, a side stage area for the chorus, and a shortened doorway for entrances and exits. Audiences are seated around the space, with each section enjoying a distinct view of the drama.

Then there is the tempo. With absolutely still upper bodies, the Noh actors move their legs and feet in a highly disciplined pattern that most often resembles the tempo of a person moving with great deliberation while submerged under water. The long, measured entrances from the Mirror room to the stage area are completely mesmerizing. The combination of the actor's physical and mental rigor, the stillness of facial expression in the mask and the considered manner in which the fabric and weight of the elaborate costume all combine to create a surreal, dreamlike effect that seems to change the very nature of time and space.

Because Noh's aesthetic is so very concentrated and focused, I believe the idea of changing how we perceive time and space in the theater is connected to the heart of the form. All great theatre practices throughout history have attempted to wield some mastery over time and space. After all, these are the two fundamental elements all performative arts share in common.

The stories in Noh drama are often cautionary, moral and mysterious, owing much to their relationship to Japanese Buddhism. The narratives are far less important to the experience than the overall performance aesthetic. Rather than focus on Aristotelian dramatic devices or plot twists and deeply layered characterization to hold its audience, Noh focuses instead on the precision, focus, detail and immersive experience of the music, movement and style.

The form becomes a kind of vessel for the audience. We begin to suppose and instill emotion, depth of feeling and expressiveness in the still masks, smallest of gestures and distinct vocal tonalities of the actors and the chorus / musicians.

In the Noh, performance transcends itself and becomes pure ritual. The place of the performance takes on an almost sacred character. The overall effect is that one begins to understand much more about the incredible power of stillness, sound and gesture in time and space. 

Why is Sarah Kane?

 

This week, a student of mine is presenting Sarah Kane's 4.48 PSYCHOSIS as her directorial debut and in fulfillment of the senior capstone award she received through the School of Drama.

It has been years since I first encountered Sarah Kane's work, and I recall the confusion, thrill, hope and fear I experienced when the British "In Yer Face" theatre movement shook the theatre world in the mid and late 1990's.

I also remember sitting in a bar just after 9/11, the single most impactful "In Yer Face" moment America had ever experienced, talking with other artists about the possible prophetic connection between Sarah Kane's generation of playwrights in England and the global seizure of terrorism that was about to take us all prisoner.

Was it it coincidence? Happenstance? Or just artsy types trying to argue that theatre could still be a mirror of society? 

The legacy of the "In Yer Face" theatre movement is actually a recapitulation of the kind of katharsis Sophocles was working towards back in the day. Aristotle put that word, "Katharsis" front and center in his study of how tragedy works in The Poetics. It means "purging of pity and fear" in the audience.

In the audience.

That's the key. The Greeks were interested in making a theatre in their great tragedy that resulted in a visceral understanding in the audience. Something akin to the kinds of experiences folks had in religious and sporting events.

I am unsure about this legacy in the 21st century, especially in America. Katharsis still happens, but at sporting events, rock concerts, religious gatherings and some political gatherings.

But not in theatres.

Definitely not in theatres.

You could argue that this is because in America the theatre is a leisure activity club of the liberal elite (myself being a card carrying member of that club).

If you look closely at who makes theatre and who it is made for, you will find the thinnest of societal strata: the 'enlighented' choir singing to the equally 'savvy' choir as audience.

When "the profession" became an industry with the rise of the ubiquitous 'MFA', (circa 1975 - 20??) the theatre was by definition reshaped by those who were focused on the self-expression of their vocation, at the expense of a bona fide "raison d'etre." (Full disclosure: I have a very prestigious MFA...)

This leaves us in a curious state: In whose face? No, they won't like it. By whom? No, that's weird.

Better to wander in our agreed upon "safe zone." 

I really miss Sarah Kane.