During October I, and everyone else in the Mary Baldwin SAP (Shakespeare in Performance) program, was absorbed in preparations for the Sixth Annual Blackfriars Conference. The Blackfriars Conference is held every other year at the Blackfriars Playhouse, organized by staff at the American Shakespeare Center, and run with the help of SAP students. The Blackfriars Conference is a place where scholars and practitioners gather to “explore Shakespeare in the study and Shakespeare on the stage and to find ways that these two worlds -- sometimes in collision -- can collaborate.”
The Blackfriars Conference, or the attitude behind it, was a determining factor for me when picking a graduate school. The about quote is exactly the kind of work I am interested in, and I will be lucky enough to attend two conferences while I am a student.
The papers at the conference are mostly presented on stage in the Blackfriars Playhouse. Conference attendees are encouraged to use performance in their argument: papers that use actors are granted thirteen minutes; papers that don’t, ten. Half of the paper sessions are staffed with actors from the American Shakespeare Center and the other half with SAP students. I was fortunate to be one of those students and was able to participate in several papers.
Participating as an actor presents several challenges. You get the text 1-4 days before you have to perform it. There is virtually no rehearsal time other than a tightly scheduled 15 minute meeting with the scholar. As an actor, you want help the scholar get across their argument, you want to perform what the scholar is looking for. But some scholars are better than others at describing what they need. You have to work to translate what they tell you into performance. Also rewarding was the wide range of texts I was given to perform. There were pieces I was extremely familiar with and could perform off book, such as Silvia in the final scene from The Two Gentlemen of Verona, but there were also pieces from plays I had never heard of, indeed, from plays no one had every heard of, such as William Percy’s Mahomet and His Heaven. Oh yeah, and then there was that scene from Thomas Middleton’s A Game at Chess where I had to deliver a long speech in Latin. (Well, it may have only been thirty seconds long, but it sure felt like an eternity!)
I cannot emphasize how quickly the week seemed to go by, and how rapidly I felt like I had to prepare each text. But that is also good practice for me. I am a super-preparer, so when I am put in situations where I’m not able to do the kind of text work I typically do, it helps me flex a different set of acting muscles.
But this wasn’t all. After the conference wrapped up for the day, attendees would have dinner, then attend an evening performance of the American Shakespeare Center, and then some would stick around for Late Night Plays at 11pm. I was in two of the late night plays. First on Wednesday night of the Conference was Meet Ben Jonson by Michael J. Hirrel. This was presented as a staged reading, but all of us in it, under the direction of Shannon Shultz, had workshopped the piece earlier in the semester. The play linked together the Wars of the Theatre plays through their descriptions of characters representing Ben Jonson, John Marston, and Thomas Dekker.
The second play I was in was a performance of the first half of Michael Poston’s The King’s Tragedy, directed by Ben Ratkowski. The King’s Tragedy is a new play written in the style of an early modern drama. We had been rehearsing this for about a month, and I had a lot of fun playing the proud villain of the piece, Alonso, who murders his brother in order to become king. I had three soliloquies in the piece, which gave me my first extended opportunity to play with audience contact on the Blackfriars Stage. Like so much else, it went by all too quickly.
But we students had a lot more to do than just perform. SAP students also provided rides for scholars, airport pickups, hospitality, stage management and technical support, and more. Several of us, myself included, also helped live-blog the conference. Every paper session and keynote was posted about on the American Shakespeare Center’s Education Blog.
The keynote speakers for this years conference were George T. Wright, Stephen Booth, Scott Kaiser, and Tiffany Stern. I don’t think it’s possible to find a more intelligent, fascinating group of people. I was fortunate enough to assist Scott Kaiser, so not only did I get to watch him prep for his keynote, but I also got to trap him in my car for a 30 minute ride and pick his brain about new plays and playwrights.
Kaiser’s talk was absolutely the highlight for me. I was thrilled from the moment it was announced he would be coming, because I had owned his two books, Mastering Shakespeare and Shakespeare’s Wordcraft, for years. Shakespeare Wordcraft is used as a text book for the SAP program, but as a director and actor I have found Mastering Shakespeare indispensable. While holding auditions for Richard III recently, I used something from Kaiser’s book at least three times. So it was a treat for me to meet this man in person.
In the book, Kaiser walks you through multiple techniques for analyzing and performing a Shakespeare text. His keynote, to my great delight, was him demonstrating the techniques he writes about. His keynote was very well attended, not only by conference attendees, but by SAP students, and the ASC actors.
It was wonderful to meet other practitioners as well, such as Beth Burns from Hidden Room Theatre, and Katherine Mayberry of Pigeon Creek Shakespeare. Though I didn’t get to meet her, I enjoyed the talk that Kristin Hall from the Atlanta Shakespeare Company gave. She discussed the company’s mission to perform the entire canon, and how they tacked on Double Falsehood for good measure. She noted that the actors didn’t give any credit to the theory that Shakespeare had a hand in Double Falsehood, and one way they said they could tell was that it was harder to memorize. A fascinating notion for attribution studies, and one that I think has weight. I had always thought that it was the iambic pentameter that made Shakespeare easy to memorize. After working on verse pieces not by Shakespeare, I have found that this isn’t completely true. I think part of Shakespeare’s genius is the ear he has for human speech, and the inherent logic of what he writes. This is not something you fully realize until you work on text by his contemporaries, and it is just one more education experience this program has given me.
Thursday, January 5, 2012
Tuesday, January 3, 2012
Grad School: Shakespeare's Theatre
My New Year’s Resolution should clearly be to be a better blogger. After all, so many exciting things were happening during my first semester of graduate school, and I did not find time to talk about any of them. The semester lasted three months, and each month was taken up with a different project. In my mind and memory, the semester had three distinct parts.
My first month was absorbed in a class called Shakespeare’s Theatre, guest taught by visiting professor Roslyn Knutson. Knutson is intelligent, unbelievably well-versed in the subject matter, and just delightful to be around. The class was a lot of work - it was a three-credit course squeezed into a month of time. We studied the playhouse world and the economics and realities of making theatre in England at the time of Shakespeare (1583-1616). We met three times a week, read an average of five plays a week, and countless pages of scholarship. It was intense. During the month of September I was in the library every night until midnight.
But it was worth it. What a way to start off a graduate school career! I learned a lot about current scholarly arguments when it comes to play printing and touring. I re-read favorite contemporary plays like The Spanish Tragedy and Edward II. And I was introduced to such gems as Mucedorus, A King and No King, and A Larum for London.
What I found most fascinating was watching scholars try to grapple with the realities of playhouse requirements versus what they thought an actor was capable of or not capable of. There are many questions regarding how playmaking worked in this era, but we know for a fact, thanks to Henslowe’s Diary, that actors were constantly putting on new scripts for audiences. If a play was performed six times, it was a hit. Most plays only got one or two performances. We have no way to tell how well the actors were memorized, or what their characterizations were like. Did they play a wide range of roles? Or did they play the same type of role in much the same manner in every play?
As a performer, reading scholars downplay and disbelieve the abilities of actors is painful and head-shake inducing. Many arguments from these scholars would go along these lines “The evidence points to _______ as a possibility, but there is no way the actors could have ___________, so they must have ________.” Some arguments also went along the lines of, “Modern actors are incapable of __________, so the early modern actors were far more talented.”
The thoughts about this all lead to a pipe dream project. When my theatre company is more established and we have a group of regular actors, an ensemble that knows each other well, I would like to put on a mock early modern season for, say, a month. Follow a sample schedule in Henslowe’s Diary for how often a play was repeated, and how often a new play was performed, and fill the schedule with extant plays.
Granted some concessions would have to be made. The early modern actors were able to spend a majority of their time in a playhouse. Every actor in DC has to pursue work other than stage in order to pay the bills. So actors would have to get their scripts well in advance in order to have time to memorize.
Despite the differences, I think it would be a worthy experiment. It would certainly test the actor’s memory. Would we be able to learn the lines for 20-some plays and keep them in our heads? Would the actors be able to create dynamic characters? Would actors fall into patterns? Tricks? A similar style for each play? Also -- how would the text change in performance? How accurate would each actor’s line speaking be? That might tell us a lot about genesis of different textual editions.
I don’t know what all the answers would be, but I have no doubt that we would find some actors more capable than others. I’m sure the same thing was true in the early modern era. Richard Burbage’s memorization skills must have been impressive.
My first substantial graduate school assignment was for this class. A ten-minute oral presentation on a topic of my choosing. In a class one-month in length, there is not time to write a twenty-page paper. Still that oral presentation date came up quickly, and for a while I had no idea what topic to choose. But one day I was flipping through my Norton and I read the headnote to Titus Andronicus, written by Katherine Maus. She wrote, “Even by the standards of Shakespeare's contemporaries, however, Titus Andronicus is an extravagantly bloody play.” Given the plays I had been reading, I couldn’t help but question the veracity of such a statement. So there I had my topic. Ten minutes on violence and death in early modern plays. If you know me, you will not be surprised that I was attracted to this topic.
I found that most tragedies tended to have 6-8 deaths. Titus Andronicus has thirteen (not counting the fly), nine of which happen onstage. In the time I had to research the only play I read that beat it was A Larum for London, which also has thirteen deaths, but all of them occur onstage.
But I also surmised that one could judge bloodiness by the type of acts that were performed, not just body count. Some favorite stage directions from the era:
“he dashes out the Child's brains.” -- Alphonsus of Germany
“flays him with false skin” -- Cambyses
“wounds gaping... holding a dagger fixed in his bleeding bosom.” -- The Devil’s Charter
In Selimus, after removing the eyes of Aga, the title character orders his hands cut off, and then “Opens his bosome and puts them in.” When Aga returns blind and mutilated to his king Bajazet, he says “Witnesse the present that he sends to thee, / Open my bosome, there you shall it see.” The stage direction tells us “Mustaffa opens his bosome and takes out his hands.”
I would not try to ever deny the bloodiness of Titus Andronicus. But I did find that there isn’t a single act of violence in Titus that you can’t find elsewhere in the early modern canon.
My first month was absorbed in a class called Shakespeare’s Theatre, guest taught by visiting professor Roslyn Knutson. Knutson is intelligent, unbelievably well-versed in the subject matter, and just delightful to be around. The class was a lot of work - it was a three-credit course squeezed into a month of time. We studied the playhouse world and the economics and realities of making theatre in England at the time of Shakespeare (1583-1616). We met three times a week, read an average of five plays a week, and countless pages of scholarship. It was intense. During the month of September I was in the library every night until midnight.
But it was worth it. What a way to start off a graduate school career! I learned a lot about current scholarly arguments when it comes to play printing and touring. I re-read favorite contemporary plays like The Spanish Tragedy and Edward II. And I was introduced to such gems as Mucedorus, A King and No King, and A Larum for London.
What I found most fascinating was watching scholars try to grapple with the realities of playhouse requirements versus what they thought an actor was capable of or not capable of. There are many questions regarding how playmaking worked in this era, but we know for a fact, thanks to Henslowe’s Diary, that actors were constantly putting on new scripts for audiences. If a play was performed six times, it was a hit. Most plays only got one or two performances. We have no way to tell how well the actors were memorized, or what their characterizations were like. Did they play a wide range of roles? Or did they play the same type of role in much the same manner in every play?
As a performer, reading scholars downplay and disbelieve the abilities of actors is painful and head-shake inducing. Many arguments from these scholars would go along these lines “The evidence points to _______ as a possibility, but there is no way the actors could have ___________, so they must have ________.” Some arguments also went along the lines of, “Modern actors are incapable of __________, so the early modern actors were far more talented.”
The thoughts about this all lead to a pipe dream project. When my theatre company is more established and we have a group of regular actors, an ensemble that knows each other well, I would like to put on a mock early modern season for, say, a month. Follow a sample schedule in Henslowe’s Diary for how often a play was repeated, and how often a new play was performed, and fill the schedule with extant plays.
Granted some concessions would have to be made. The early modern actors were able to spend a majority of their time in a playhouse. Every actor in DC has to pursue work other than stage in order to pay the bills. So actors would have to get their scripts well in advance in order to have time to memorize.
Despite the differences, I think it would be a worthy experiment. It would certainly test the actor’s memory. Would we be able to learn the lines for 20-some plays and keep them in our heads? Would the actors be able to create dynamic characters? Would actors fall into patterns? Tricks? A similar style for each play? Also -- how would the text change in performance? How accurate would each actor’s line speaking be? That might tell us a lot about genesis of different textual editions.
I don’t know what all the answers would be, but I have no doubt that we would find some actors more capable than others. I’m sure the same thing was true in the early modern era. Richard Burbage’s memorization skills must have been impressive.
My first substantial graduate school assignment was for this class. A ten-minute oral presentation on a topic of my choosing. In a class one-month in length, there is not time to write a twenty-page paper. Still that oral presentation date came up quickly, and for a while I had no idea what topic to choose. But one day I was flipping through my Norton and I read the headnote to Titus Andronicus, written by Katherine Maus. She wrote, “Even by the standards of Shakespeare's contemporaries, however, Titus Andronicus is an extravagantly bloody play.” Given the plays I had been reading, I couldn’t help but question the veracity of such a statement. So there I had my topic. Ten minutes on violence and death in early modern plays. If you know me, you will not be surprised that I was attracted to this topic.
I found that most tragedies tended to have 6-8 deaths. Titus Andronicus has thirteen (not counting the fly), nine of which happen onstage. In the time I had to research the only play I read that beat it was A Larum for London, which also has thirteen deaths, but all of them occur onstage.
But I also surmised that one could judge bloodiness by the type of acts that were performed, not just body count. Some favorite stage directions from the era:
“he dashes out the Child's brains.” -- Alphonsus of Germany
“flays him with false skin” -- Cambyses
“wounds gaping... holding a dagger fixed in his bleeding bosom.” -- The Devil’s Charter
In Selimus, after removing the eyes of Aga, the title character orders his hands cut off, and then “Opens his bosome and puts them in.” When Aga returns blind and mutilated to his king Bajazet, he says “Witnesse the present that he sends to thee, / Open my bosome, there you shall it see.” The stage direction tells us “Mustaffa opens his bosome and takes out his hands.”
I would not try to ever deny the bloodiness of Titus Andronicus. But I did find that there isn’t a single act of violence in Titus that you can’t find elsewhere in the early modern canon.
Friday, August 5, 2011
Capital Fringe Festival continued
Here is the continuation of my accounting of the Capital Fringe Festival. If I forget to mention anyone I met or who saw my show I apologize. It was a busy couple of weeks!
Sunday, July 17
This morning started off with volunteering. I believe I was originally scheduled to work in the bar, but when I arrived they asked if I would mind doing box office instead. Um, no, not at all! I ran box office for two shows, Pinoy: A'merican Tale at the Apothecary and then since I have my car I ran over to Spooky Universe for Sanyasi. The latter is one of the many shows on the “Ooo I want to see this but I can't” List. But by running box office I at least get to say hi to Betsy Rosen and Nora Achrati, two of the performers.
At 4pm I made my way to the Apothecary to take in Stephen Spotswood's The Sisters of Ellery Hollow. Stephen is a DC playwright, and one of the many delightful theatre people on twitter. Ellery Hollow was performed by Rachel Holt and Melissa Hmelnicky. It was a lovely piece, about two sisters who were story tellers, revealing the magical circumstances of their birth and life. The script made use of beautiful imagery, and the two actresses performed with charm and spunk.
Then I rested for a short time before my second performance at 6:45pm. I felt really good about this performance. The nerves from the first performance seemed to settle, and the piece felt like it had a lot more flow. I felt like I was able to just go along for the ride of what was happening in my piece, and in the Juliet scenes, rather than worrying about whether I would forget my lines. I was blessed every performance to have friends in the audience, and this night were Jeremy, Joshua, Brett, Renee, and Richard.
After the show ended, Victoria and I ran over to the Warehouse to snag standing room only tickets for Illuminate: A Martial Arts Experience, as it was sold out. We are successful and run back to the tent to grab a little dinner. Time for the Apple and Cheddar Panini once again! While scarfing down the food we talk to the gentlemen performing Glengary Glen Ross. They are charming, in their own way, and we have a few hearty laughs before we have to leave.
Illuminate is fantastic, even before it begins. The packed house affords some memorable people-watching, and we'll just leave it at that. There is a loose story to Illuminate, basically a put-upon man learns martial arts to defend himself and masters the skill. The story is told through a series of martial arts demonstrations. Most of them are performed in blackout. The performers wear all black, and glow sticks on their hands and feet that reveal the moves. The hero of the story wears the color green, and that allows us to track who he is, even though the individual performing the role changes.
Victoria knows one of the performers, John Shyrock, and he performs my favorite part of the piece. In Illuminate, John showcases Chinese rope dart techniques. Again, the theatre is in blackout, and there are lights attached to the end of John's rope. He flings it out into the audience, whipping it back and forth. Every time you swear the rope is going to hit someone, yet it never does. Every time you flinch, and every time everyone is safe. It was remarkable.
Monday, July 18
On Monday, a second review, this one from MD Theatre Guide appears. It is extremely favorable, and, which I almost appreciate more, very well written. Positive notes aside, the review accurately represents the piece I was trying to create, describing the play as “part shakespearean performance piece, part memoir, and part literary discourse.” It seems disingenuous to praise a positive review, but it is truly a relief to find out that your performance goals have come across to a member of the audience. We in the theatre can spend a lot of time talking about good reviews and bad reviews and whether to ignore them or not, but I've always had an interest in dramatic criticism, and the thing you can learn from a review is what a specific audience member got from the production. And when that is exactly what you were hoping to portray, it's encouraging.
Tuesday, July 19
On Tuesday I head to Shrewing of the Tamed at the Shop. This production involves William and Mary students, so I run into a couple of former professors. I had gotten to meet a few of the students during the Fringe festival as well. I think it's fabulous that William and Mary is using the Capital Fringe Festival as a resource and learning experience and wish they had done so when I was a student there.
The marketing materials for the play asked the question “Can a woman be as funny as a man?” For some reason in my head I got the idea that this meant they were going to gender flip Kate and Petruchio. This isn't what happened at all. The main change was an increased emphasis on the frame narrative. It harkened back to the time when women were not allowed on stage, and so the actress-who-would-be-Kate had to prove that she could play the role as well as a man. The play then started from a point of competition that paralleled Kate and Petruchio's competition.
Wednesday, July 20
I start off by volunteering for A Year of Living Dangerously at the Redrum (more fun decorating rocks with Terry and Robert). Then I have to prep for my third performance. I'm nervous about this one because very important people will be in the audience. Beforehand I was talking to Kimleigh Smith, the force of nature behind the show TOTALLY. She's fantastic, and I think I met her one night while talking to Seth. She says simply and calmly, “Hey. Just tell the story.” She is right, and my nerves are settled. Just tell the story.
Jim Gagne, a dear friend of mine, and a brilliant teacher attends, as does George Grant, another brilliant teacher, and a man who knows a vast amount about Shakespeare and how to perform it. Just tell the story. Jim tells me afterwards that it's the first time he's seen scholarship used theatrically in a successful manner.
Thursday, July 21
Thursday is play night for me. No being a volunteer, just being an audience member. First up is Brett Abelman's The Magical Marriage Computer and other plays. Brett is another local playwright producing work at the Fringe festival. This set of plays explores love in different circumstances amongst different types of people. My friend Rachel Manteuffel is in the show, one of her parts being, of all things, Johnny Depp.
After that is the biker King Lear at the Apothecary. The piece is directed by Kelli Biggs, and starring one of my best friends, Katie Wanschura, as a gender flipped Edmund. Everyone is drinking beers, flashing knives, playing pool, talking on cell phones, wearing leather.
One Shakespeare play is never enough for Charlene, so after King Lear I'm scheduled to attend Hamlet: Reframed at the Shop. There's a little bit of downtown in between, so I hang out in the tent and talk to friends. Everybody is there that night, many to see Hamlet. Allison, Katy, Lee, Mark, Bess, just to name a few. I had been joking with some Fringers earlier in the week that the Festival and the Helen Hayes are the two times of year where we in the theatre are liable to run into any number of exes and past indiscretions. I chalk up the second one of the festival that night. I'm feeling spunky, so I command him to bring me water from the bar! I figured I could get away with it since it's the least he could do for me, and it's over 100 degrees that day, so Fringe is providing it for free. He humors me and graciously complies.
It's a good thing I have water because the heat in the Shop is oppressive. Audience and actors alike are dripping with sweat. Impromptu fans are being waved back and forth. Despite the distractions, the actors hold the attention of the audience. Hamlet: Reframed was a modern telling of the famous play, with one catch: all the soliloquies are cut. What do we get in this version? An unstable Hamlet, with unexplained behavior, and a King and Queen desperately trying to keep a country running. We don't get the ghost in this version, which prevents us from immediately siding against Claudius. The cut shed a different light on the characters. I thought Carl's objective for the production was clear, and that he successfully achieved it.
Friday, July 22
On this day I went into town just for one volunteer shift. I was scheduled from 5-8pm at the Free Store, which as Nyree, the Volunteer Coordinator, told me, is where volunteers go to die. Basically it's an extremely boring shift, in an hot and stuffy room without chairs. You sit on the floor and greet people as they come in, answer questions, lay out donations, and do your best not to sweat too much. And, true to reputation, the shift was rather boring, at least from 5-7pm.
For the last hour of the shift some performers came into the Free Store, and getting to know them made the end of the shift far more enjoyable than the beginning. First I met Drew and Sam, and later Nate and Nate came in as well. These four guys were half of OneBodyWorks, the group performing I See You. They had spent six weeks working on a farm in North Carolina, with limited access to technology, and developed a theatrical piece in response to their time there. The fellows were cute and charming, and became known around Fringe as “the farm boys.” At least that's what I called them, and everyone always knew who I was talking about. Apparently the guys found this amusing, since on the farm, they were the city boys. I hear great things about their show, but alas, I don't get to see it.
Saturday, July 23
At noon I show up in the side room at Fort Fringe to find out about that One Year Theatre project, whose postcards I had seen around the festival. But that story isn't for this blog – in short, I am involved, I designed the webpage, and you can learn more there and at the blog.
I scramble over to Spooky Universe for When ET Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest. Unpredictable bus schedules mean I slide in there right at curtain time and sheepishly ask if I can still get in. Luckily they hadn't started yet. This rock musical tells the story of Joan who gets contacted by aliens that dig her music and want her to be the leader of their intergalactic band. It's starring fellow standardized patient and all around awesome lady Emily Webbe, whose fantastic voice I get to hear for the first time.
Time for the fourth performance of What, Lamb! What, Ladybird! There are several friendly faces in the audience for this one. Catherine and Terrance Aselford are there. So is Kavita Mudan, one of my favorite female Shakespeare Geeks. Matthew Pauli, one-third of Clown Cabaret attends and we get to talk shop about Shakespeare afterwards.We talk about what's missing when there is one performer – the reaction of characters. A great deal of acting comes when you aren't speaking. So when performing multiple roles, especially in Shakespeare, how do you find the balance between letting some of those reactions in, and keeping the text driving forward? Two of my former co-workers, Jennifer and Krystal, whom I don't get to see nearly enough, come as well.
This is possibly my best performance. I feel very free in the moment, and I am able to explore moments in the text in a way I hadn't been before. It feels very fluid. It feels great. Until. Disaster. I am on the very last page of the script. Right in the middle of what is a very scary and emotional confession for me. And I completely blank. I know where I'm going, but I can't remember the very next line. Words stumble out of my mouth as my brain frantically searches for the sentences that have escaped my memory. I can't find them, so I move ahead to the next moment, leaving out about three lines of text. Well, it happens. You move on. But everything was so perfect up until that moment. But I almost wonder if being more connected to what I was saying is what actually made me forget what I was saying. To be truly living in the moment of what I was confessing and finding myself unable to say the words due to the nerves and the terror of admitting was I was admitting. It's a possibility, but still, Perfectionist Charlene is not pleased!
Several of us head to Busboys and Poets for dinner afterwards, along with Karen and Jim who were at the Festival that night as well.
After dinner and after socializing at the tent Jim and I head to the Mountain for Faction of Fools' Fool For All. We are joined by Hannah, who is a co-worker and friend of Jim's, and on the staff at the Festival. The Fool for All is comprised of nine scenes and over 40 artists. Not every scene is performed every night, so it's always a different show. The production also serves as a learning experience for the artists, as they vary in experience and skill level. Some are professional clowns, others have just taken a class or two with Faction. I know next to nothing about Commedia dell'Arte, but while watching it becomes clear that there are three levels of skill to mask work. The first level: actors who are wearing the mask. Second: actors whose faces match the mask. And the third level, the level of the uber talented Matthew Wilson, are actors for whom the mask becomes a natural part of their face. It's fun to note how this works, and also to see so many friends on stage, like Gwen Grasdorf, Karen Beriss, Steve Attix, Paul Reisman, Grant Cloyd, and Sarah Olmsted Thomas.
The show is followed by more socializing at the tent, with some of the aforementioned persons, and also audience member extraordinaire and extremely intelligent guy, David Tannous. He tries to convince me to join him for Meagan & David's Original Low-Cost Creativity Workshop, but it's midnight, and I'm exhausted. I try to convince him to see my show on Sunday instead of the one he's already got a ticket to. Neither of us succeeds. Nevertheless, it's lovely to talk to him, and I've already run into him at another theatre event since Fringe.
Sunday, July 24
Here it is. The final day of Fringe. I start of at the Goethe Institute seeing John Hefner's The Road to Nowhere. Hefner is a friend of mine, and an accomplished solo artist who has toured his shows to several Fringe Festivals. He had given me advice throughout the process. I'm glad that I could make it to his show, especially as it's been quite a while since I saw him in person. He was pretty busy. As the title of his show implies, he went on a long road trip that kept him away from DC. Then he fell in love, got engaged, oh yeah, and just had a baby. Busy guy.
My final performance is in the afternoon. Friends Kelli, Katie, and Rachel are in the audience. The fact that it is over doesn't seem quite real.
We pack up my car with the set pieces. Then I have one last play to see, Belle Parricide, directed by Catherine Aselford and Nick Allen. Catherine and the playwrights have been working on this piece for something like two years. I saw a staged reading of one version of the script quite some time ago, and it has grown and improved immensely. Five female playwrights wrote short pieces about Beatrice Cenci, portraying the girl and the murder of her father in different lights. After the show I head into the tent for some final socializing and to say goodbye to everyone.
The Capital Fringe Festival was an amazing experience for me this year. I did things I had never done before. I wrote and performed a one-woman show! I went places that terrified me, and survived, nay, grew as an artist. I made a piece that was about me and about the kind of theatre I love, and infused with the kind of thinking I do. And though it was made from a very specific standpoint, audiences responded positively. It was so rewarding to discover that this dual approach that I have spent so much time talking about, so much time thinking about, this actor-scholar path, could have a tangible existence.
Will this have an after-life? I'm not sure yet. I know that if I were to perform it again, there are a couple more things I want to look up, a couple places I want to cut, and a couple places I want to add. Three people commented on the educational possibilities of the piece.
Two different people told me I should present this play at the Blackfriars Conference that the American Shakespeare Center hosts every two years. And indeed, working on this play is the very thing that confirms that I am making the right decision in attending the MFA program at Mary Baldwin this fall. The program explores the two pillars of scholarship and stagecraft, and that is exactly what my play turned out to be. And it wasn't my intent to make it that; the play came to this status naturally, simply by virtue of what I find interesting.
But the most dear compliment of the experience was relayed to me by Victoria. An actress she has worked with came to the play along with one or two other actresses, all who had played Juliet. They told Victoria that afterwards they found themselves talking about the piece and how exciting it was because I did things with Juliet they had all been told they weren't allowed to do.
And that's the point, really, I think. Let's get this false idea of Juliet as the willowy ingenue out of our heads. Let's not play what we think she is. Play instead what Shakespeare gives you in the text. Let a young actress bring all the charm and all the tempestuousness and all the lust and all the strength that she can. For that is what Juliet is: mercurial and strong, logical and loyal, curious and giving. There has never been a 14-year-old like Juliet, nor will there never be. And that is the magic of this play, this character, and Shakespeare's writing.
Sunday, July 17
This morning started off with volunteering. I believe I was originally scheduled to work in the bar, but when I arrived they asked if I would mind doing box office instead. Um, no, not at all! I ran box office for two shows, Pinoy: A'merican Tale at the Apothecary and then since I have my car I ran over to Spooky Universe for Sanyasi. The latter is one of the many shows on the “Ooo I want to see this but I can't” List. But by running box office I at least get to say hi to Betsy Rosen and Nora Achrati, two of the performers.
At 4pm I made my way to the Apothecary to take in Stephen Spotswood's The Sisters of Ellery Hollow. Stephen is a DC playwright, and one of the many delightful theatre people on twitter. Ellery Hollow was performed by Rachel Holt and Melissa Hmelnicky. It was a lovely piece, about two sisters who were story tellers, revealing the magical circumstances of their birth and life. The script made use of beautiful imagery, and the two actresses performed with charm and spunk.
Then I rested for a short time before my second performance at 6:45pm. I felt really good about this performance. The nerves from the first performance seemed to settle, and the piece felt like it had a lot more flow. I felt like I was able to just go along for the ride of what was happening in my piece, and in the Juliet scenes, rather than worrying about whether I would forget my lines. I was blessed every performance to have friends in the audience, and this night were Jeremy, Joshua, Brett, Renee, and Richard.
After the show ended, Victoria and I ran over to the Warehouse to snag standing room only tickets for Illuminate: A Martial Arts Experience, as it was sold out. We are successful and run back to the tent to grab a little dinner. Time for the Apple and Cheddar Panini once again! While scarfing down the food we talk to the gentlemen performing Glengary Glen Ross. They are charming, in their own way, and we have a few hearty laughs before we have to leave.
Illuminate is fantastic, even before it begins. The packed house affords some memorable people-watching, and we'll just leave it at that. There is a loose story to Illuminate, basically a put-upon man learns martial arts to defend himself and masters the skill. The story is told through a series of martial arts demonstrations. Most of them are performed in blackout. The performers wear all black, and glow sticks on their hands and feet that reveal the moves. The hero of the story wears the color green, and that allows us to track who he is, even though the individual performing the role changes.
Victoria knows one of the performers, John Shyrock, and he performs my favorite part of the piece. In Illuminate, John showcases Chinese rope dart techniques. Again, the theatre is in blackout, and there are lights attached to the end of John's rope. He flings it out into the audience, whipping it back and forth. Every time you swear the rope is going to hit someone, yet it never does. Every time you flinch, and every time everyone is safe. It was remarkable.
Monday, July 18
On Monday, a second review, this one from MD Theatre Guide appears. It is extremely favorable, and, which I almost appreciate more, very well written. Positive notes aside, the review accurately represents the piece I was trying to create, describing the play as “part shakespearean performance piece, part memoir, and part literary discourse.” It seems disingenuous to praise a positive review, but it is truly a relief to find out that your performance goals have come across to a member of the audience. We in the theatre can spend a lot of time talking about good reviews and bad reviews and whether to ignore them or not, but I've always had an interest in dramatic criticism, and the thing you can learn from a review is what a specific audience member got from the production. And when that is exactly what you were hoping to portray, it's encouraging.
Tuesday, July 19
On Tuesday I head to Shrewing of the Tamed at the Shop. This production involves William and Mary students, so I run into a couple of former professors. I had gotten to meet a few of the students during the Fringe festival as well. I think it's fabulous that William and Mary is using the Capital Fringe Festival as a resource and learning experience and wish they had done so when I was a student there.
The marketing materials for the play asked the question “Can a woman be as funny as a man?” For some reason in my head I got the idea that this meant they were going to gender flip Kate and Petruchio. This isn't what happened at all. The main change was an increased emphasis on the frame narrative. It harkened back to the time when women were not allowed on stage, and so the actress-who-would-be-Kate had to prove that she could play the role as well as a man. The play then started from a point of competition that paralleled Kate and Petruchio's competition.
Wednesday, July 20
I start off by volunteering for A Year of Living Dangerously at the Redrum (more fun decorating rocks with Terry and Robert). Then I have to prep for my third performance. I'm nervous about this one because very important people will be in the audience. Beforehand I was talking to Kimleigh Smith, the force of nature behind the show TOTALLY. She's fantastic, and I think I met her one night while talking to Seth. She says simply and calmly, “Hey. Just tell the story.” She is right, and my nerves are settled. Just tell the story.
Jim Gagne, a dear friend of mine, and a brilliant teacher attends, as does George Grant, another brilliant teacher, and a man who knows a vast amount about Shakespeare and how to perform it. Just tell the story. Jim tells me afterwards that it's the first time he's seen scholarship used theatrically in a successful manner.
Thursday, July 21
Thursday is play night for me. No being a volunteer, just being an audience member. First up is Brett Abelman's The Magical Marriage Computer and other plays. Brett is another local playwright producing work at the Fringe festival. This set of plays explores love in different circumstances amongst different types of people. My friend Rachel Manteuffel is in the show, one of her parts being, of all things, Johnny Depp.
After that is the biker King Lear at the Apothecary. The piece is directed by Kelli Biggs, and starring one of my best friends, Katie Wanschura, as a gender flipped Edmund. Everyone is drinking beers, flashing knives, playing pool, talking on cell phones, wearing leather.
One Shakespeare play is never enough for Charlene, so after King Lear I'm scheduled to attend Hamlet: Reframed at the Shop. There's a little bit of downtown in between, so I hang out in the tent and talk to friends. Everybody is there that night, many to see Hamlet. Allison, Katy, Lee, Mark, Bess, just to name a few. I had been joking with some Fringers earlier in the week that the Festival and the Helen Hayes are the two times of year where we in the theatre are liable to run into any number of exes and past indiscretions. I chalk up the second one of the festival that night. I'm feeling spunky, so I command him to bring me water from the bar! I figured I could get away with it since it's the least he could do for me, and it's over 100 degrees that day, so Fringe is providing it for free. He humors me and graciously complies.
It's a good thing I have water because the heat in the Shop is oppressive. Audience and actors alike are dripping with sweat. Impromptu fans are being waved back and forth. Despite the distractions, the actors hold the attention of the audience. Hamlet: Reframed was a modern telling of the famous play, with one catch: all the soliloquies are cut. What do we get in this version? An unstable Hamlet, with unexplained behavior, and a King and Queen desperately trying to keep a country running. We don't get the ghost in this version, which prevents us from immediately siding against Claudius. The cut shed a different light on the characters. I thought Carl's objective for the production was clear, and that he successfully achieved it.
Friday, July 22
On this day I went into town just for one volunteer shift. I was scheduled from 5-8pm at the Free Store, which as Nyree, the Volunteer Coordinator, told me, is where volunteers go to die. Basically it's an extremely boring shift, in an hot and stuffy room without chairs. You sit on the floor and greet people as they come in, answer questions, lay out donations, and do your best not to sweat too much. And, true to reputation, the shift was rather boring, at least from 5-7pm.
For the last hour of the shift some performers came into the Free Store, and getting to know them made the end of the shift far more enjoyable than the beginning. First I met Drew and Sam, and later Nate and Nate came in as well. These four guys were half of OneBodyWorks, the group performing I See You. They had spent six weeks working on a farm in North Carolina, with limited access to technology, and developed a theatrical piece in response to their time there. The fellows were cute and charming, and became known around Fringe as “the farm boys.” At least that's what I called them, and everyone always knew who I was talking about. Apparently the guys found this amusing, since on the farm, they were the city boys. I hear great things about their show, but alas, I don't get to see it.
Saturday, July 23
At noon I show up in the side room at Fort Fringe to find out about that One Year Theatre project, whose postcards I had seen around the festival. But that story isn't for this blog – in short, I am involved, I designed the webpage, and you can learn more there and at the blog.
I scramble over to Spooky Universe for When ET Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest. Unpredictable bus schedules mean I slide in there right at curtain time and sheepishly ask if I can still get in. Luckily they hadn't started yet. This rock musical tells the story of Joan who gets contacted by aliens that dig her music and want her to be the leader of their intergalactic band. It's starring fellow standardized patient and all around awesome lady Emily Webbe, whose fantastic voice I get to hear for the first time.
Time for the fourth performance of What, Lamb! What, Ladybird! There are several friendly faces in the audience for this one. Catherine and Terrance Aselford are there. So is Kavita Mudan, one of my favorite female Shakespeare Geeks. Matthew Pauli, one-third of Clown Cabaret attends and we get to talk shop about Shakespeare afterwards.We talk about what's missing when there is one performer – the reaction of characters. A great deal of acting comes when you aren't speaking. So when performing multiple roles, especially in Shakespeare, how do you find the balance between letting some of those reactions in, and keeping the text driving forward? Two of my former co-workers, Jennifer and Krystal, whom I don't get to see nearly enough, come as well.
This is possibly my best performance. I feel very free in the moment, and I am able to explore moments in the text in a way I hadn't been before. It feels very fluid. It feels great. Until. Disaster. I am on the very last page of the script. Right in the middle of what is a very scary and emotional confession for me. And I completely blank. I know where I'm going, but I can't remember the very next line. Words stumble out of my mouth as my brain frantically searches for the sentences that have escaped my memory. I can't find them, so I move ahead to the next moment, leaving out about three lines of text. Well, it happens. You move on. But everything was so perfect up until that moment. But I almost wonder if being more connected to what I was saying is what actually made me forget what I was saying. To be truly living in the moment of what I was confessing and finding myself unable to say the words due to the nerves and the terror of admitting was I was admitting. It's a possibility, but still, Perfectionist Charlene is not pleased!
Several of us head to Busboys and Poets for dinner afterwards, along with Karen and Jim who were at the Festival that night as well.
After dinner and after socializing at the tent Jim and I head to the Mountain for Faction of Fools' Fool For All. We are joined by Hannah, who is a co-worker and friend of Jim's, and on the staff at the Festival. The Fool for All is comprised of nine scenes and over 40 artists. Not every scene is performed every night, so it's always a different show. The production also serves as a learning experience for the artists, as they vary in experience and skill level. Some are professional clowns, others have just taken a class or two with Faction. I know next to nothing about Commedia dell'Arte, but while watching it becomes clear that there are three levels of skill to mask work. The first level: actors who are wearing the mask. Second: actors whose faces match the mask. And the third level, the level of the uber talented Matthew Wilson, are actors for whom the mask becomes a natural part of their face. It's fun to note how this works, and also to see so many friends on stage, like Gwen Grasdorf, Karen Beriss, Steve Attix, Paul Reisman, Grant Cloyd, and Sarah Olmsted Thomas.
The show is followed by more socializing at the tent, with some of the aforementioned persons, and also audience member extraordinaire and extremely intelligent guy, David Tannous. He tries to convince me to join him for Meagan & David's Original Low-Cost Creativity Workshop, but it's midnight, and I'm exhausted. I try to convince him to see my show on Sunday instead of the one he's already got a ticket to. Neither of us succeeds. Nevertheless, it's lovely to talk to him, and I've already run into him at another theatre event since Fringe.
Sunday, July 24
Here it is. The final day of Fringe. I start of at the Goethe Institute seeing John Hefner's The Road to Nowhere. Hefner is a friend of mine, and an accomplished solo artist who has toured his shows to several Fringe Festivals. He had given me advice throughout the process. I'm glad that I could make it to his show, especially as it's been quite a while since I saw him in person. He was pretty busy. As the title of his show implies, he went on a long road trip that kept him away from DC. Then he fell in love, got engaged, oh yeah, and just had a baby. Busy guy.
My final performance is in the afternoon. Friends Kelli, Katie, and Rachel are in the audience. The fact that it is over doesn't seem quite real.
We pack up my car with the set pieces. Then I have one last play to see, Belle Parricide, directed by Catherine Aselford and Nick Allen. Catherine and the playwrights have been working on this piece for something like two years. I saw a staged reading of one version of the script quite some time ago, and it has grown and improved immensely. Five female playwrights wrote short pieces about Beatrice Cenci, portraying the girl and the murder of her father in different lights. After the show I head into the tent for some final socializing and to say goodbye to everyone.
The Capital Fringe Festival was an amazing experience for me this year. I did things I had never done before. I wrote and performed a one-woman show! I went places that terrified me, and survived, nay, grew as an artist. I made a piece that was about me and about the kind of theatre I love, and infused with the kind of thinking I do. And though it was made from a very specific standpoint, audiences responded positively. It was so rewarding to discover that this dual approach that I have spent so much time talking about, so much time thinking about, this actor-scholar path, could have a tangible existence.
Will this have an after-life? I'm not sure yet. I know that if I were to perform it again, there are a couple more things I want to look up, a couple places I want to cut, and a couple places I want to add. Three people commented on the educational possibilities of the piece.
Two different people told me I should present this play at the Blackfriars Conference that the American Shakespeare Center hosts every two years. And indeed, working on this play is the very thing that confirms that I am making the right decision in attending the MFA program at Mary Baldwin this fall. The program explores the two pillars of scholarship and stagecraft, and that is exactly what my play turned out to be. And it wasn't my intent to make it that; the play came to this status naturally, simply by virtue of what I find interesting.
But the most dear compliment of the experience was relayed to me by Victoria. An actress she has worked with came to the play along with one or two other actresses, all who had played Juliet. They told Victoria that afterwards they found themselves talking about the piece and how exciting it was because I did things with Juliet they had all been told they weren't allowed to do.
And that's the point, really, I think. Let's get this false idea of Juliet as the willowy ingenue out of our heads. Let's not play what we think she is. Play instead what Shakespeare gives you in the text. Let a young actress bring all the charm and all the tempestuousness and all the lust and all the strength that she can. For that is what Juliet is: mercurial and strong, logical and loyal, curious and giving. There has never been a 14-year-old like Juliet, nor will there never be. And that is the magic of this play, this character, and Shakespeare's writing.
Thursday, July 28, 2011
Fringe Week 1
The first couple days of Fringe I am not involved. I am rehearsing like a madwoman. It is a lot of work to memorize one hour worth of text. Luckily the majority of the Shakespeare is in my head already. What’s not is soon learned, thanks to the rhythms of his text. I get it, but not word perfect. This is a disappointment to me, the perfectionist. I find that little words slip. The yous and thous sometimes get mixed up. And in this line is it will or shall? Hath/Doth/Does? Surprisingly, I find it’s harder to be perfect when you are memorizing multiple characters. Somehow it’s a little easier to keep track a single character’s reasons from flipping from thou to you, than it is to keep track of five characters. But I work really hard on it. When characters say similar things, it’s easier for them to get jumbled when you are speaking both versions. And with an hour-long show, there is a lot of text floating around in my head.
The words I am writing myself are easy to learn. Mostly because I don’t have to get those perfect. The quotes from people in the past are difficult, particularly the non-contemporaries. The writing from the Victorians in particular, is complex, with ornate structure, and multiple phrases, making for some rather long sentences.
Victoria and I communicated with our savvy tech, Sean Eustis, over email in the week leading up to the Festival. We told him want we think we needed, and he let us know that he could do exactly that. He even had access to a projector, and all the necessary equipment.
Those final days before opening were nerve-wracking. Would I remember the lines? Would anyone see it? Would it even work? Would I still have a voice after giving a walking tour on Friday and another on Saturday? But soon Sunday was here.
Sunday, July 10
Our tech is at 10:30am. The space – The Bedroom. We meet our venue manager, Terry, who seems great, and his equally great partner in crime, Robert, who is managing The Redrum, the other space in that building. These guys with aplomb put up with my sarcastic “charm” for two weeks. We get started a little late due to parking issues. Thankfully the rest of the festival parking and transportation remains on our sides.
Our set is small. It has a dagger and a coil of rope, both conveniently borrowed from our previous production of The Two Gentlemen of Verona. There is the ever-important vial, which I’ve had in possession for months, due to needing it for publicity photos. The largest piece is the bench, which comes from Victoria’s furniture collection. I worry about possible damage, but it returns to her house unscathed two weeks later.
As is always the case with tech, one never gets done as much as one wants. It’s all pretty much spent setting up the technical elements. Which I suppose is really the point. But we actors always want to run the show!
Where do we put the projector? Here I walk in the way of it, there audience members’ heads pop up as shadows. We have to adjust the text size of the words it is projecting. Then we have to figure out the lights and the cues. The Bedroom has an inordinate amount of lighting instruments for a space that small, but I’ve been warned not to complain about it, as lots of lights are better than no lights at all, which is the state where the Festival started.
We go through the lighting changes. We have the Shakespeare scenes – some in day, some in night. Day Wash. Night Wash. We have what we affectionately call “Scholar Wash” for all the parts in between. Before we know it, it is 1pm, and our tech time is over. One hour to show.
Quick! Eat! Bathroom! Stretch! What are my lines again??????
2pm comes, and I must walk out onstage, begin “I have a faint cold fear that thrills through my veins” and take the ride.
I survive. I don’t lose my place. I have a couple moments where the corner of your brain separated from your acting says, “Wait. Is that what happens next? Did I skip something?” But I turn out to always be in the right place. I have a couple people I know in the audience, but also people who I don’t know, including some big Fringers. My former roommate Karen Beriss is in the audience with her mom. My friend Kerry drives from Towson to try and make the show. She doesn’t make it in before the doors close, but thankfully decides to wait until around so that we can still hang out. I more than survive the play. Some people stand to applaud.
My heart is beating and I am covered in sweat. Victoria, Kerry, and I head over to the tent to chat (and drink!). While I’m there three patrons who were at the performance approach me and say how much they liked it. One is David Kessler, the man who will be the 2011 Fringe Fanatic. I had met David at previous theatre events, and he saw me perform in last year’s Fringe Festival. I run into him throughout the next two weeks, and enjoy finding out what he has seen and what he has loved. His favorite seems to be iKill, a work getting a lot of buzz, but one I am unable to see.
These positive audience responses mean that What, Lamb! What, Ladybird! works as a piece of theatre! Whew! But now I have a week before my next performance, and adrenaline to spare.
Being a full time artist, and knowing that I will lose money on this production, I cannot buy tickets to see all my friends’ shows. Of the 124, I believe I know people involved with at least 30 of them, possibly more. I discover that you can sign up to volunteer with the Fringe Festival. Every shift you work yields you a free ticket. Score! I initially start with four shifts, but quickly add more.
Monday, July 11
Working. Resting. The first review arrives. It’s a bad one, though not the kind you can be upset about, or take personally. The writer likes my acting, but misses the entire point of the piece. She seems to come in with a preconceived notion of who Juliet is (she dismisses her as a “lustful teenager”), and is unable to let it go. When a review is more about how silly Juliet is, and less about what you are actually doing in your piece, what can you really do? Though I do wonder, if she missed it so entirely, maybe it means the piece isn’t working theatrically. But everyone else who saw that first performance got it. And then I remember hearing a local actor say he didn’t like Venus in Fur because he doesn’t enjoy plays about theatre people. I am reassured by the fact that what is obvious is some is not so obvious to others. (If you don't know the play, Venus in Fur takes place at an audition, but this is only the most surface level. It really has absolutely nothing to do with theatre people.) I think secretly I am more bothered by her negative characterization of Juliet, than by her not liking the play. In my head I write essays rebutting how she sees Juliet, supported with evidence by the text. But of course, I’ve actually already written that essay. And I’m performing it. So there it is.
Tuesday, July 12
I come to the Fringe straight from some teaching work. I need to pick up some food before my first volunteer shift! I fondly recall the apple and cheddar panini that I ate several times last year. But what’s this? It’s not on the board! I asked at the bar, they tell me they can make that, no problem.
I am working box office for Losing My Religion, a solo performance, being performed in my venue. I spend more time talking to / annoying Terry and Robert. I get to meet the performer, Seth Lepore. He’s charming, personable, cute… and married. ;-) I run into him throughout the festival. I see him in the tent chatting people up. He has a list of popular shows and when they let out so that he can hand out postcards. I watch him and learn about going up to strangers and selling your show. I don’t make it to his, but he’ll next be performing at the Minnesota Fringe Festival.
After the volunteer shift, I’m hanging out in the tent to see Karen Beriss et. al. perform in the free Clown Cabaret show.
I notice the apple and cheddar panini is now on the board! It remains there for the rest of the festival! My work here is done.
After a delightful Clown Cabaret, I talk to Karen about the show. Whether the projections and the scholars names work, and the switching between parts. She says it all does, and it doesn’t bother her not having more information about the people I’m quoting. Her main note: Lose the noisy plastic water bottle. She gives me a plastic goblet to drink from for the remainder of Fringe.
Wednesday, July 13
I have another volunteer shift. But at this point I really can’t remember what show it is for… From the schedule I can deduce that it was probably for The Morphine Diaries, which is also at Terry and Robert’s venues. Those guys have a collection of colored sharpies and a bucket of rocks, and we pass the time making art.
I hang around the tent awaiting the 9:45pm showing of Cabaret XXX. I know 75% of them: Karen Lange, Allyson Harkey, and Toni Rae Brotons. I think I met all these ladies on twitter first, before in real life. Their show rocks. They basically are playing scorned lovers singing angry songs about their exes. And all four performers have great voices. And they are backed up by a wonderful band. They give out tattoos and condoms and t-shirts. I take a lesson from Seth and talk to the people sitting near me. I tell them about my show. They tease me when I take a condom, in mock shock, “Why, Juliet!” The man at the table gives me his as well, saying he can’t use it because it’s probably too small. The two women with him look mortified, but also amused.
Friday, July 15
I slip back to the Fringe Festival for more Clown Cabaret. My friend Lindsay joins me, and we get to catch up a bit. We head to Busboys & Poets with the clowns for dinner. Then I remember my other Fringe staple, the Apple and Gorgonzola sandwich. Yum. With sweet potato fries!
Saturday, July 16
A very full day. I am volunteering from about 10:45 to 3:30. I do three box office shifts, but I’m not sure I can even guess what shows they were for. I think A Year of Living Dangerously, again with Terry and Robert. Then I think King Lear in the apothecary. There I run into Bill, a local theatre performer who saw my opening performance. He tells me it was the best college lecture he had ever scene. It’s a compliment, and I know what he means. Then I think it’s Patrick & Me at the air-conditioned Goethe Institute! The venue manager there, Kate, is a lot of fun to talk to, with a healthy appreciation of Shakespeare.
I take off from volunteering and decide to go see A Piece of Pi at the Apothecary. It is fantastic. Three male clowns who have very much honed their types and their relationship to each other, perform a series of physical comedy clown skits. They take juggling tricks and other known scenarios and twist them with clowning. One of them is “weak” and skinny. One is “the strongest man in the world!” One is quieter, and maybe not the brightest. They are wonderful.
I get on the bus and hurry over to Spooky Universe on 16th to see Emily Morrison’s But Love is My Middle Name. It’s a lovely piece as she takes us through her stories of love and not love, singing the songs that defined her life. I hope she can make it to my piece, as I see connections between them. (She does, and sees them too). Fun Fact: Emily and I once auditioned for a production of Romeo and Juliet together, and neither was cast.
When it ends, I have to rush back to the tent. The bus isn’t coming on time, so I walk. It takes me exactly the 25 minutes I have before Hotel Fuck. I’m familiar with most of this cast. The delightful Frank Britton everyone knows. I know James and Gabe, and I know who Jay and Christopher are. I’m not sure I can describe the piece, other than to say that the title accurately prepares you for the experience. I feel like part of Fringe is seeing at least one crazy, wacky piece, perhaps with nudity, and this year, Hotel Fuck is that piece for me.
I carry my script with me everywhere, and whenever there is down time, I read over my lines.
That’s the first week! More soon!
The words I am writing myself are easy to learn. Mostly because I don’t have to get those perfect. The quotes from people in the past are difficult, particularly the non-contemporaries. The writing from the Victorians in particular, is complex, with ornate structure, and multiple phrases, making for some rather long sentences.
Victoria and I communicated with our savvy tech, Sean Eustis, over email in the week leading up to the Festival. We told him want we think we needed, and he let us know that he could do exactly that. He even had access to a projector, and all the necessary equipment.
Those final days before opening were nerve-wracking. Would I remember the lines? Would anyone see it? Would it even work? Would I still have a voice after giving a walking tour on Friday and another on Saturday? But soon Sunday was here.
Sunday, July 10
Our tech is at 10:30am. The space – The Bedroom. We meet our venue manager, Terry, who seems great, and his equally great partner in crime, Robert, who is managing The Redrum, the other space in that building. These guys with aplomb put up with my sarcastic “charm” for two weeks. We get started a little late due to parking issues. Thankfully the rest of the festival parking and transportation remains on our sides.
Our set is small. It has a dagger and a coil of rope, both conveniently borrowed from our previous production of The Two Gentlemen of Verona. There is the ever-important vial, which I’ve had in possession for months, due to needing it for publicity photos. The largest piece is the bench, which comes from Victoria’s furniture collection. I worry about possible damage, but it returns to her house unscathed two weeks later.
As is always the case with tech, one never gets done as much as one wants. It’s all pretty much spent setting up the technical elements. Which I suppose is really the point. But we actors always want to run the show!
Where do we put the projector? Here I walk in the way of it, there audience members’ heads pop up as shadows. We have to adjust the text size of the words it is projecting. Then we have to figure out the lights and the cues. The Bedroom has an inordinate amount of lighting instruments for a space that small, but I’ve been warned not to complain about it, as lots of lights are better than no lights at all, which is the state where the Festival started.
We go through the lighting changes. We have the Shakespeare scenes – some in day, some in night. Day Wash. Night Wash. We have what we affectionately call “Scholar Wash” for all the parts in between. Before we know it, it is 1pm, and our tech time is over. One hour to show.
Quick! Eat! Bathroom! Stretch! What are my lines again??????
2pm comes, and I must walk out onstage, begin “I have a faint cold fear that thrills through my veins” and take the ride.
I survive. I don’t lose my place. I have a couple moments where the corner of your brain separated from your acting says, “Wait. Is that what happens next? Did I skip something?” But I turn out to always be in the right place. I have a couple people I know in the audience, but also people who I don’t know, including some big Fringers. My former roommate Karen Beriss is in the audience with her mom. My friend Kerry drives from Towson to try and make the show. She doesn’t make it in before the doors close, but thankfully decides to wait until around so that we can still hang out. I more than survive the play. Some people stand to applaud.
My heart is beating and I am covered in sweat. Victoria, Kerry, and I head over to the tent to chat (and drink!). While I’m there three patrons who were at the performance approach me and say how much they liked it. One is David Kessler, the man who will be the 2011 Fringe Fanatic. I had met David at previous theatre events, and he saw me perform in last year’s Fringe Festival. I run into him throughout the next two weeks, and enjoy finding out what he has seen and what he has loved. His favorite seems to be iKill, a work getting a lot of buzz, but one I am unable to see.
These positive audience responses mean that What, Lamb! What, Ladybird! works as a piece of theatre! Whew! But now I have a week before my next performance, and adrenaline to spare.
Being a full time artist, and knowing that I will lose money on this production, I cannot buy tickets to see all my friends’ shows. Of the 124, I believe I know people involved with at least 30 of them, possibly more. I discover that you can sign up to volunteer with the Fringe Festival. Every shift you work yields you a free ticket. Score! I initially start with four shifts, but quickly add more.
Monday, July 11
Working. Resting. The first review arrives. It’s a bad one, though not the kind you can be upset about, or take personally. The writer likes my acting, but misses the entire point of the piece. She seems to come in with a preconceived notion of who Juliet is (she dismisses her as a “lustful teenager”), and is unable to let it go. When a review is more about how silly Juliet is, and less about what you are actually doing in your piece, what can you really do? Though I do wonder, if she missed it so entirely, maybe it means the piece isn’t working theatrically. But everyone else who saw that first performance got it. And then I remember hearing a local actor say he didn’t like Venus in Fur because he doesn’t enjoy plays about theatre people. I am reassured by the fact that what is obvious is some is not so obvious to others. (If you don't know the play, Venus in Fur takes place at an audition, but this is only the most surface level. It really has absolutely nothing to do with theatre people.) I think secretly I am more bothered by her negative characterization of Juliet, than by her not liking the play. In my head I write essays rebutting how she sees Juliet, supported with evidence by the text. But of course, I’ve actually already written that essay. And I’m performing it. So there it is.
Tuesday, July 12
I come to the Fringe straight from some teaching work. I need to pick up some food before my first volunteer shift! I fondly recall the apple and cheddar panini that I ate several times last year. But what’s this? It’s not on the board! I asked at the bar, they tell me they can make that, no problem.
I am working box office for Losing My Religion, a solo performance, being performed in my venue. I spend more time talking to / annoying Terry and Robert. I get to meet the performer, Seth Lepore. He’s charming, personable, cute… and married. ;-) I run into him throughout the festival. I see him in the tent chatting people up. He has a list of popular shows and when they let out so that he can hand out postcards. I watch him and learn about going up to strangers and selling your show. I don’t make it to his, but he’ll next be performing at the Minnesota Fringe Festival.
After the volunteer shift, I’m hanging out in the tent to see Karen Beriss et. al. perform in the free Clown Cabaret show.
I notice the apple and cheddar panini is now on the board! It remains there for the rest of the festival! My work here is done.
After a delightful Clown Cabaret, I talk to Karen about the show. Whether the projections and the scholars names work, and the switching between parts. She says it all does, and it doesn’t bother her not having more information about the people I’m quoting. Her main note: Lose the noisy plastic water bottle. She gives me a plastic goblet to drink from for the remainder of Fringe.
Wednesday, July 13
I have another volunteer shift. But at this point I really can’t remember what show it is for… From the schedule I can deduce that it was probably for The Morphine Diaries, which is also at Terry and Robert’s venues. Those guys have a collection of colored sharpies and a bucket of rocks, and we pass the time making art.
I hang around the tent awaiting the 9:45pm showing of Cabaret XXX. I know 75% of them: Karen Lange, Allyson Harkey, and Toni Rae Brotons. I think I met all these ladies on twitter first, before in real life. Their show rocks. They basically are playing scorned lovers singing angry songs about their exes. And all four performers have great voices. And they are backed up by a wonderful band. They give out tattoos and condoms and t-shirts. I take a lesson from Seth and talk to the people sitting near me. I tell them about my show. They tease me when I take a condom, in mock shock, “Why, Juliet!” The man at the table gives me his as well, saying he can’t use it because it’s probably too small. The two women with him look mortified, but also amused.
Friday, July 15
I slip back to the Fringe Festival for more Clown Cabaret. My friend Lindsay joins me, and we get to catch up a bit. We head to Busboys & Poets with the clowns for dinner. Then I remember my other Fringe staple, the Apple and Gorgonzola sandwich. Yum. With sweet potato fries!
Saturday, July 16
A very full day. I am volunteering from about 10:45 to 3:30. I do three box office shifts, but I’m not sure I can even guess what shows they were for. I think A Year of Living Dangerously, again with Terry and Robert. Then I think King Lear in the apothecary. There I run into Bill, a local theatre performer who saw my opening performance. He tells me it was the best college lecture he had ever scene. It’s a compliment, and I know what he means. Then I think it’s Patrick & Me at the air-conditioned Goethe Institute! The venue manager there, Kate, is a lot of fun to talk to, with a healthy appreciation of Shakespeare.
I take off from volunteering and decide to go see A Piece of Pi at the Apothecary. It is fantastic. Three male clowns who have very much honed their types and their relationship to each other, perform a series of physical comedy clown skits. They take juggling tricks and other known scenarios and twist them with clowning. One of them is “weak” and skinny. One is “the strongest man in the world!” One is quieter, and maybe not the brightest. They are wonderful.
I get on the bus and hurry over to Spooky Universe on 16th to see Emily Morrison’s But Love is My Middle Name. It’s a lovely piece as she takes us through her stories of love and not love, singing the songs that defined her life. I hope she can make it to my piece, as I see connections between them. (She does, and sees them too). Fun Fact: Emily and I once auditioned for a production of Romeo and Juliet together, and neither was cast.
When it ends, I have to rush back to the tent. The bus isn’t coming on time, so I walk. It takes me exactly the 25 minutes I have before Hotel Fuck. I’m familiar with most of this cast. The delightful Frank Britton everyone knows. I know James and Gabe, and I know who Jay and Christopher are. I’m not sure I can describe the piece, other than to say that the title accurately prepares you for the experience. I feel like part of Fringe is seeing at least one crazy, wacky piece, perhaps with nudity, and this year, Hotel Fuck is that piece for me.
I carry my script with me everywhere, and whenever there is down time, I read over my lines.
That’s the first week! More soon!
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
What, Lamb! What, Ladybird!
This has been an incredible summer. I have not been able to blog as much as I wanted. Okay, I haven’t been able to blog at all. I’m disappointed because I wanted to better document starting my own theatre company and launching with The Two Gentlemen of Verona. I’ll come back to that in a later post, because now I want to talk about the Capital Fringe Festival while the experience is still fresh in my mind.
Throughout last fall, Romeo and Juliet is on my mind. While living in DC, I’ve auditioned for the role of Juliet three times, and not gotten cast. The funding for a production with a director that wants me to play the role does not come through. This is irking me. I’m starting to feel the time run out. I remember reading David Tennant say that he thought once he hit 30, his chance for Romeo would be over. He got his in. At 27, I see that 30 approaching. Though there is no obvious rule about it, it seems to make sense. To play Romeo, and Juliet, one has to be old enough to handle the text, to feel what they are going through, but young enough to carry off teenage impetuousness and innocence.
I spend a lot of time talking about it with others. My roommate Karen says we should mount our own production. We talk about what we could do with it. Small cast? All women? Maybe just three of us, or four of us. It sounds like a good idea, but then we realize that Joe Calarco has already written that play.
The Capital Fringe Festival keeps coming up in the process of my discussions with her and others. The perfect opportunity to mount some sort of production. But what sort of production should it be? It needs a reason for existing other than the fact that I want to play Juliet. I begin to play with the text. How do I make a piece about Juliet, from her perspective?
I talk to other friends about it, and somewhere the notion of a one-woman show comes up. How to do it? How to make it about Juliet? I think about Kate Norris’s one woman Hamlet: Now I Am Alone. Is this piece like that, but with Romeo and Juliet? Am I just doing a short version of the play where I play all the parts? Do I just do Juliet’s scenes? I read the play again, but I skip all the time she’s not on stage. I’m surprised by the fact that the entire plot remains intact. I hit upon an idea where her scenes are the main through line and when Juliet hears about something happening, parts of that scene come in. But this seems less like a one person thing, and more that it needs multiple actors. And the piece needs one concept, not two.
I keep playing, I keep talking to people, I get frustrated messing with the text. I worship Shakespeare, so I don’t want to do all this crazy stuff with his text. I just want to do his play! I’m close to giving up on the idea entirely. On New Year’s Day I have coffee with a friend, Jessica. I had come home from a party that morning and found my first wrinkle. I have a slight freak out, not about getting old, but about not being able to play Juliet. I haven’t worked since September. I need to create a project. But creating work on your own is hard. I’m frustrated from not acting. I have some things going on in my personal life. I have graduate school auditions to prepare for. I’ve just taken the GRE. Lots of stress. And I need theatre. I talk to my friend, a fellow actor and director, and she tells me to do it. Do a one-woman show in Fringe about Juliet. Just do it. The only caveat from her is not to name it something stupid. “Like what?” I ask. “Like ‘Kickin’ it Solo with Juliet!’” she answers.
I am still conflicted. The application is due January 7th. I write it, but I’m not sure. But I can’t stand not acting. I have to do something. I realize I’m also scared by the prospect of a solo piece. Well then, I think, you have to do it. I make myself mail in application.
I get into the festival, but I still don’t know exactly what I’m doing. What will this piece be? Who the hell will I get to direct it? Can I do this on my own?
I don’t have to. On January 11th, my life changes. I meet Victoria Reinsel at a callback for The Comedy of Errors at the Virginia Shakespeare Festival. I am given the side of Adriana. She, Luciana. I know it makes sense that I am reading Adriana. Sass and strength I can pull off. But really the harder part is Luciana. We read the scene in the side hallway before auditioning. “Oh.” I think. “This woman knows what she is doing.” We audition. At some point during the scene I slap her ass as a sign of sisterly affection. I apologize afterwards, after all it’s a little personal for someone you just met. She laughs and says, “No, that was great!” Now when we meet people, she tells them we met when I slapped her ass in an audition.
It’s the best audition with a stranger I have ever had. We exchange cards and 2 days later we meet for coffee. We talk for hours. We agree on seemingly everything when it comes to Shakespeare. She’s worked for the American Shakespeare Center, and attended the MFA program at Mary Baldwin, one of the graduate schools I am applying to (and where I will eventually decide to go).
In short, we keep getting together, keep talking theatre and life for hours, and at the end of February launch our own theatre company, Brave Spirits Theatre. We perform first in June with a six-actor production of The Two Gentlemen of Verona (but that’s a blog for another time).
In any case, I now have someone I can create theatre with, and I have a company to produce my Fringe play. Naturally, of course, producing, directing, and acting in Two Gents means my Fringe project doesn’t get as far as quickly as I would like. I watch July approach and am still unsure of the final form of my play.
Victoria and I sit down and I read through Juliet’s scenes. I already know that I want to start with her last soliloquy: “I have a faint cold fear thrills through my veins / That almost freezes up the heat of life.” The question is, is it necessary to have Juliet’s death? Looking at the text, that scene belongs so much to Romeo. Juliet is awake for about five lines before she stabs herself. Plus, everyone knows what happens at the end. Is it needed to show it? Could I just end with the first few lines of the soliloquy that I perform at the beginning?
Victoria agrees with me that starting with the soliloquy is a great idea. And also that the death scene isn’t needed. But she also agrees with the little voice inside of me saying that simply doing Juliet’s scenes isn’t enough. She suggests maybe we connect the scenes with Juliet’s thoughts about what’s going on. That I write some connective materials. Something that we don’t hear from Shakespeare. Even if it is a simple as, “I never meant to hurt my family.”
This idea terrifies me. First of all, I am not a playwright. Second, to write something that has to stand up next to Shakespeare’s text seems an impossible task. I am incredibly nervous. Victoria tells me to journal as Juliet and see what comes out.
I’m scared, but I make myself do it. I surprise myself by coming up with some really interesting things. One section of it makes it into the final piece, the paragraph where Juliet (or I) comments on our first time giving sex with Romeo, prior to the Lark/Nightingale scene.
But as I’m journaling as Juliet, I also write down my own thoughts about things that happen in the play, about Juliet the character and how I relate to her. I write things that I have never admitted to anyone. When I hand the papers over to Victoria, I think I tell her that the second set is an “invented narrator,” not quite willing to admit some of my hidden feelings.
When we meet again, Victoria tells me that she really likes the stuff that I wrote as me and that we should explore that more.
So at this point I have a few things that I’ve written that I like, that I think have dramatic possibilities. And I know I want to focus on Juliet’s scenes. And I know I want to start with the potion soliloquy. But there is still some sort of connective thread that is missing. The only answer, when you have an approach like mine, is to spend a day at the Library of Congress.
I do so, planning to read and read and read about the play until some brilliant idea strikes me. Amazingly, this is exactly what happens. I sit down, with the statue of Shakespeare looming over my head, and search for Juliet in the catalog. I discover the following Subject listing: Shakespeare, William, 1564-1616 --Characters --Women. I order everything in it that might talk about Juliet. When the librarian brings me books, she asks, “Are you going to be able to get through all this?” I am, because I don’t know what I’m looking for, and some of the books will quickly and clearly become not it.
I am already familiar with the series Players of Shakespeare, which has many interviews with well-known actors (mostly from the Royal Shakespeare Company) in which the actors talk about a specific role they play. I order all 6 volumes in order to find out whether anyone has spoken about Juliet.
While I’m waiting for those, I am flipping through other books and I discover the lynchpin. Helena Faucit’s On some of Shakespeare’s female characters. This book contains a series of letters written to a friend where Faucit waxes poetic about the roles she has played and what they have meant to her. Juliet is clearly the most dear to her, for she wrote twice as much on her as on any other character. It surprises me to find a Victorian actress so enthralled with Juliet. And Faucit was not the only one of the period to write about the character. I have found my starting place.
One reviewer of the final piece noted that as a modern woman, it was “wrong-headed” to look to the Victorians, as their conception of womanhood was so different than ours. Victorians, at least as we view them, have a very unprogressive, restrictive view of womanhood, based in the idea of femininity, charm, and obedience. (Though what history records versus what people thought in their hearts could be two very different things, and I often feel that we today are not really so different as those in the past, but again, that’s another topic.)
BUT – this is what makes it all the more remarkable that they would attach themselves to Juliet. If what we think of as the Victorian ideal was completely true, these women should have eviscerated Juliet. She talks back to and disobeys her parents. She has sexual feelings. She commits suicide. She speaks up and says what is on her mind, rather than merely doing what she is told. And these Victorian actresses worshipped her. I find that fascinating! (As a note, Shakespeare’s source is written much more as a cautionary tale – we are supposed to see in R and J’s death a punishment, or at least result of, their immodest behavior. Shakespeare’s text, however, does not judge these young lovers.)
I find quotes from actors and scholars, past and present. The piece quickly takes shape. I am quickly able to create a through-line. And it’s precisely what I find engaging. After all, actors have so frequently been ignored when it came to Shakespeare scholarship, something that has thankfully been changing in recent years. Of course, this is yet another reason why it is amazing to discover these documents actresses have left behind.
I’m still struggling with the form. I dream frequently about this play, which makes me all the more anxious. But one day in a fit of panic, when my brain will not shut off, I see in my head how the play should end. Helena Faucit’s writing allows me to start with the soliloquy, as I wanted to. And I realize the emotional place the play has to go to in order to end with it as well. But this time it’s not Juliet speak those lines, it’s me.
The question remains how to present these quotes? My brain tells me that I should project the names when I am quoting someone, thereby making it clear when I am speaking as myself, and when as someone else. How Moises Kaufman should the script be? Should I say the persons name before each quote? I think the projections are enough. How much like Gross Indecency should this be? Do I need to inhabit a character for each of these writers? Do I need to use accents???
We decide no. To just keep it simple.
I am a bundle of nerves when I hand the script to Victoria. I pace about the room as she reads over it. She comes to the final page. She looks up to me, nods, and says, "I like it."
The script is finished, at least for this incarnation. Three things are interwoven. Shakespeare’s text. Quotes from scholars and actors. My own opinions and memories. I have never seen a play like this. I have no idea whether it will work. I tell people it is halfway between a play and a paper. Will the play part work to support my thesis? Will the paper part be dramatically viable? We shall find out at the Capital Fringe Festival.
to be continued…
Throughout last fall, Romeo and Juliet is on my mind. While living in DC, I’ve auditioned for the role of Juliet three times, and not gotten cast. The funding for a production with a director that wants me to play the role does not come through. This is irking me. I’m starting to feel the time run out. I remember reading David Tennant say that he thought once he hit 30, his chance for Romeo would be over. He got his in. At 27, I see that 30 approaching. Though there is no obvious rule about it, it seems to make sense. To play Romeo, and Juliet, one has to be old enough to handle the text, to feel what they are going through, but young enough to carry off teenage impetuousness and innocence.
I spend a lot of time talking about it with others. My roommate Karen says we should mount our own production. We talk about what we could do with it. Small cast? All women? Maybe just three of us, or four of us. It sounds like a good idea, but then we realize that Joe Calarco has already written that play.
The Capital Fringe Festival keeps coming up in the process of my discussions with her and others. The perfect opportunity to mount some sort of production. But what sort of production should it be? It needs a reason for existing other than the fact that I want to play Juliet. I begin to play with the text. How do I make a piece about Juliet, from her perspective?
I talk to other friends about it, and somewhere the notion of a one-woman show comes up. How to do it? How to make it about Juliet? I think about Kate Norris’s one woman Hamlet: Now I Am Alone. Is this piece like that, but with Romeo and Juliet? Am I just doing a short version of the play where I play all the parts? Do I just do Juliet’s scenes? I read the play again, but I skip all the time she’s not on stage. I’m surprised by the fact that the entire plot remains intact. I hit upon an idea where her scenes are the main through line and when Juliet hears about something happening, parts of that scene come in. But this seems less like a one person thing, and more that it needs multiple actors. And the piece needs one concept, not two.
I keep playing, I keep talking to people, I get frustrated messing with the text. I worship Shakespeare, so I don’t want to do all this crazy stuff with his text. I just want to do his play! I’m close to giving up on the idea entirely. On New Year’s Day I have coffee with a friend, Jessica. I had come home from a party that morning and found my first wrinkle. I have a slight freak out, not about getting old, but about not being able to play Juliet. I haven’t worked since September. I need to create a project. But creating work on your own is hard. I’m frustrated from not acting. I have some things going on in my personal life. I have graduate school auditions to prepare for. I’ve just taken the GRE. Lots of stress. And I need theatre. I talk to my friend, a fellow actor and director, and she tells me to do it. Do a one-woman show in Fringe about Juliet. Just do it. The only caveat from her is not to name it something stupid. “Like what?” I ask. “Like ‘Kickin’ it Solo with Juliet!’” she answers.
I am still conflicted. The application is due January 7th. I write it, but I’m not sure. But I can’t stand not acting. I have to do something. I realize I’m also scared by the prospect of a solo piece. Well then, I think, you have to do it. I make myself mail in application.
I get into the festival, but I still don’t know exactly what I’m doing. What will this piece be? Who the hell will I get to direct it? Can I do this on my own?
I don’t have to. On January 11th, my life changes. I meet Victoria Reinsel at a callback for The Comedy of Errors at the Virginia Shakespeare Festival. I am given the side of Adriana. She, Luciana. I know it makes sense that I am reading Adriana. Sass and strength I can pull off. But really the harder part is Luciana. We read the scene in the side hallway before auditioning. “Oh.” I think. “This woman knows what she is doing.” We audition. At some point during the scene I slap her ass as a sign of sisterly affection. I apologize afterwards, after all it’s a little personal for someone you just met. She laughs and says, “No, that was great!” Now when we meet people, she tells them we met when I slapped her ass in an audition.
It’s the best audition with a stranger I have ever had. We exchange cards and 2 days later we meet for coffee. We talk for hours. We agree on seemingly everything when it comes to Shakespeare. She’s worked for the American Shakespeare Center, and attended the MFA program at Mary Baldwin, one of the graduate schools I am applying to (and where I will eventually decide to go).
In short, we keep getting together, keep talking theatre and life for hours, and at the end of February launch our own theatre company, Brave Spirits Theatre. We perform first in June with a six-actor production of The Two Gentlemen of Verona (but that’s a blog for another time).
In any case, I now have someone I can create theatre with, and I have a company to produce my Fringe play. Naturally, of course, producing, directing, and acting in Two Gents means my Fringe project doesn’t get as far as quickly as I would like. I watch July approach and am still unsure of the final form of my play.
Victoria and I sit down and I read through Juliet’s scenes. I already know that I want to start with her last soliloquy: “I have a faint cold fear thrills through my veins / That almost freezes up the heat of life.” The question is, is it necessary to have Juliet’s death? Looking at the text, that scene belongs so much to Romeo. Juliet is awake for about five lines before she stabs herself. Plus, everyone knows what happens at the end. Is it needed to show it? Could I just end with the first few lines of the soliloquy that I perform at the beginning?
Victoria agrees with me that starting with the soliloquy is a great idea. And also that the death scene isn’t needed. But she also agrees with the little voice inside of me saying that simply doing Juliet’s scenes isn’t enough. She suggests maybe we connect the scenes with Juliet’s thoughts about what’s going on. That I write some connective materials. Something that we don’t hear from Shakespeare. Even if it is a simple as, “I never meant to hurt my family.”
This idea terrifies me. First of all, I am not a playwright. Second, to write something that has to stand up next to Shakespeare’s text seems an impossible task. I am incredibly nervous. Victoria tells me to journal as Juliet and see what comes out.
I’m scared, but I make myself do it. I surprise myself by coming up with some really interesting things. One section of it makes it into the final piece, the paragraph where Juliet (or I) comments on our first time giving sex with Romeo, prior to the Lark/Nightingale scene.
But as I’m journaling as Juliet, I also write down my own thoughts about things that happen in the play, about Juliet the character and how I relate to her. I write things that I have never admitted to anyone. When I hand the papers over to Victoria, I think I tell her that the second set is an “invented narrator,” not quite willing to admit some of my hidden feelings.
When we meet again, Victoria tells me that she really likes the stuff that I wrote as me and that we should explore that more.
So at this point I have a few things that I’ve written that I like, that I think have dramatic possibilities. And I know I want to focus on Juliet’s scenes. And I know I want to start with the potion soliloquy. But there is still some sort of connective thread that is missing. The only answer, when you have an approach like mine, is to spend a day at the Library of Congress.
I do so, planning to read and read and read about the play until some brilliant idea strikes me. Amazingly, this is exactly what happens. I sit down, with the statue of Shakespeare looming over my head, and search for Juliet in the catalog. I discover the following Subject listing: Shakespeare, William, 1564-1616 --Characters --Women. I order everything in it that might talk about Juliet. When the librarian brings me books, she asks, “Are you going to be able to get through all this?” I am, because I don’t know what I’m looking for, and some of the books will quickly and clearly become not it.
I am already familiar with the series Players of Shakespeare, which has many interviews with well-known actors (mostly from the Royal Shakespeare Company) in which the actors talk about a specific role they play. I order all 6 volumes in order to find out whether anyone has spoken about Juliet.
While I’m waiting for those, I am flipping through other books and I discover the lynchpin. Helena Faucit’s On some of Shakespeare’s female characters. This book contains a series of letters written to a friend where Faucit waxes poetic about the roles she has played and what they have meant to her. Juliet is clearly the most dear to her, for she wrote twice as much on her as on any other character. It surprises me to find a Victorian actress so enthralled with Juliet. And Faucit was not the only one of the period to write about the character. I have found my starting place.
One reviewer of the final piece noted that as a modern woman, it was “wrong-headed” to look to the Victorians, as their conception of womanhood was so different than ours. Victorians, at least as we view them, have a very unprogressive, restrictive view of womanhood, based in the idea of femininity, charm, and obedience. (Though what history records versus what people thought in their hearts could be two very different things, and I often feel that we today are not really so different as those in the past, but again, that’s another topic.)
BUT – this is what makes it all the more remarkable that they would attach themselves to Juliet. If what we think of as the Victorian ideal was completely true, these women should have eviscerated Juliet. She talks back to and disobeys her parents. She has sexual feelings. She commits suicide. She speaks up and says what is on her mind, rather than merely doing what she is told. And these Victorian actresses worshipped her. I find that fascinating! (As a note, Shakespeare’s source is written much more as a cautionary tale – we are supposed to see in R and J’s death a punishment, or at least result of, their immodest behavior. Shakespeare’s text, however, does not judge these young lovers.)
I find quotes from actors and scholars, past and present. The piece quickly takes shape. I am quickly able to create a through-line. And it’s precisely what I find engaging. After all, actors have so frequently been ignored when it came to Shakespeare scholarship, something that has thankfully been changing in recent years. Of course, this is yet another reason why it is amazing to discover these documents actresses have left behind.
I’m still struggling with the form. I dream frequently about this play, which makes me all the more anxious. But one day in a fit of panic, when my brain will not shut off, I see in my head how the play should end. Helena Faucit’s writing allows me to start with the soliloquy, as I wanted to. And I realize the emotional place the play has to go to in order to end with it as well. But this time it’s not Juliet speak those lines, it’s me.
The question remains how to present these quotes? My brain tells me that I should project the names when I am quoting someone, thereby making it clear when I am speaking as myself, and when as someone else. How Moises Kaufman should the script be? Should I say the persons name before each quote? I think the projections are enough. How much like Gross Indecency should this be? Do I need to inhabit a character for each of these writers? Do I need to use accents???
We decide no. To just keep it simple.
I am a bundle of nerves when I hand the script to Victoria. I pace about the room as she reads over it. She comes to the final page. She looks up to me, nods, and says, "I like it."
The script is finished, at least for this incarnation. Three things are interwoven. Shakespeare’s text. Quotes from scholars and actors. My own opinions and memories. I have never seen a play like this. I have no idea whether it will work. I tell people it is halfway between a play and a paper. Will the play part work to support my thesis? Will the paper part be dramatically viable? We shall find out at the Capital Fringe Festival.
to be continued…
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