When Theatre Works...

I have a recurring dream of being onstage opening night of a show. The production begins, and I slowly realize I not only don't know my lines, but I'm not even certain what show I'm in. Perhaps my improv skills will save me, but the prospects are not good. I had this dream again about two weeks ago.

A little over one week ago I was browsing through Goodwill with Karen when my cell phone started playing Kirk's fight-scene music from Star Trek (yes, that's my ringtone.) Normally I'm not the kind of person who answers their phone in a store; I feel my fellow shoppers have better things to do than listen to me shouting about whether or not I should stop at the market on my way home. I saw, however, upon looking at the screen, that it was my friend Lance calling. As I am also not the kind of person who enjoys long chats on the phone (I am much more comfortable face-to-face; phone conversations make my brain itch,) I knew he had to have an important reason for reaching out to me. I found myself hoping no one had died.

In a nutshell, the practical upshot of the call was this: one of the actors in the Lake Plains Players' upcoming production of Stephen Sondheim's Company had fallen ill, and could I replace him? "Uh..." I believe, was my initial response. I quickly followed that up with, "I'll ask Karen to check our calendar when we get home and let you know if I can." I knew without even thinking about it that if I could, I would take the role, despite having only a week (four rehearsals) to learn the part.

I have often wondered, as many actors probably have, what would happen if I were asked to hop into a production at the last minute. It seemed I was about to find out.

The next night I arrived at the Leonard Oakes Winery, our venue for the show, and was warmly greeted by the cast and crew, almost all of whom I have worked with before. I was pleased to see so many wonderfully talented actors all in one place; it would make my job that much easier. The evening's rehearsal commenced, and I walked through it, newly-issued script and music in hand, mildly distraught look on face. Sondheim in seven days? I never pictured myself as a masochist.

When Lance first spoke to me on the phone he assured me that I didn't need to learn the music, and I was more than welcome to carry a script on stage with me. I thanked him, knowing I was going to do everything in my power  not to do that. It had nothing to do with (alright, maybe a little to do with) personal pride; I was admittedly curious as to whether I was up to the task, but my primary motivation was the cast and the audience. A well-crafted show produces a form of hypnosis in the audience; it induces and sustains a trance which transports the viewers into the world on stage and allows for suspension of disbelief. To bring a script into that world would jar the audience out of the trance and remind them in none-too-subtle terms that they were watching an artificial construct design to artistically deceive them.

Fortunately, the role was not as difficult to pick up as I had imagined; Larry is featured in only one scene and, although he is in quite a few songs, he is part of a chorus for most of them, so I found myself able to lean heavily on the talents of those around me and hide in the tapestry of Sondheim songplay.

I should note here that, although it may seem like it so far, this story is not about me. It's about the people who make up Lake Plains Players.

Last night was opening night and the almost full house was treated to a truly wonderful theatrical event. While backstage may have been a bit noisier than is healthy during a show (sound carries in an all-wood building,) the atmosphere was warm, inviting and inclusive, as the best of families are. I was welcomed in not as a stopgap measure, but as the newest member of the family. I was treated not as someone who was a necessary evil, someone who had the potential to lower the quality of the final product, but as someone who was appreciated and respected, and that respect comes only from artists who are justifiably confident in their own abilities and the abilities of those around them. I have had the opportunity to be a part of several productions with Lake Plains now, and my initial opinion of the group, first fostered after seeing "White Christmas," has only grown and strengthened.

When Theatre works, there is an undertone of passion that drives artists (both on stage and behind-the-scenes) to push their talents past their comfort point and into new territory where they find aspects of performance they never dreamed were there. When Theatre works, a production feeds off a synergistic energy and becomes something so much greater than the mere sum of its parts. When Theatre works, the audience forgets about their bills, their morning meetings, and their other earthly woes, if only for a few hours. But even once the show is over and the curtain dropped, the power of post-hypnotic suggestion is carried with them, and if during that morning meeting or when digging through their bills a song plays through their consciousness and lifts them, if only for a moment, out of their mundane activity and transports them to a place of comfort and warmth, then Theatre works.

When Theatre works, it works like Lake Plains Players.

The Post-Show Blues...

Having been involved in the art of theatre since 1984 (or third grade, depending on whether or not you consider school plays,) I have experience my fair share of openings and closings.  They all, to varying degrees, consist of the tingling anticipation of rehearsals, the roller coaster thrill of the production, and the jarring reality of the end-of-the-ride brakes being applied despite my most ardent wishes.

My Bucket List of  characters has for a great many years included Daddy Warbucks, the confident, brazen billionaire who loses his heart to an 11-year-old orphan name Annie.  Some dismiss this show as "fluff;" it is far from it.  While the themes tackled by "Annie" may not be as seemingly earth-shattering as something by Pinter, Mamet or Brecht, it is sometimes the more down-to-earth, personal themes that touch closer to home; those of human need, longing, loneliness and love.  Warbucks was a man who cared for nothing but money and his beloved city of NYC, but by the time he is through singing "Why Should I Change a Thing?" he has come to the slow but undeniable realization that to be alone is the most terrible condition of all.  Annie, in all her ebullient optimism, is the only one who can save him.

There have been shows I have walked away from with little remorse once their run has ended, shows I have closed without much concern over who I kept in contact with, and some shows I have kept within me as small orbs of glowing joy.  I have worked with people whose names I can barely recall, and others who have become lifelong friends.  I cannot remember, however, a time when tears were brought to my eyes with the sounding of the final note.  Paige, our marvelous "Annie," was in tears as she came out to sing "Tomorrow" with us at the curtain call; she later brought me to tears as we hugged, and I whispered to her, "I'm going to miss this."

I do miss this.  And I thank all those from the Lake Plains Players, friends old and new, who made this a production that will be missed by many. 

This is the beautiful paradox of theatre; we create something ephemeral that lives forever.

Sneek Peek - "Annie"

A Sneek Peek preview of the Lake Plains Players' production of "Annie," which ran October 28-30, 2011.

Theater Snobs

I have a confession to make: I popped my Facebook "unfriend" cherry today.  Here's why...

Last night we were waiting in the lobby of the Market Arcade in downtown Buffalo to see a show featuring our good friend Kyla.  We spotted a theater acquaintance (someone I had once directed in a show,) waved hello to him, and he put on his game face and sauntered over.  Background info: this guy is a Theater Snob.  As with most Theater Snobs, he is majoring in Theater, fauns over obscure and "meaningful" theater, and thinks he is the best thing onstage since sliced bread.  More on that later (BTW - while many Theater Snobs are Theater majors, I am in NO WAY implying that being a Theater major makes you a Snob.)

So anyway, this Snob asks what we're up to, and we tell him: we are currently in rehearsals for "Annie" with Lake Plains Players.  He immediately screws his face up in mock pain, draws in a sharp breath and says, "Ooh...sorry."  After a painful (and ineffective) attempt  at backpedaling he admits, "I'm more of an 'Oliver' person," whatever that might mean.

Here's the thing: while "Annie" might not be Pulitzer Prize material, it won more than twice as many Tony awards (including Best Musical) than Oliver (which did NOT win Best Musical,) has great characters and songs, and this production is being directed by Lance Anderson, the talented director who last brought us "White Christmas" (Curious?  Check out my blog of December 5, 2010 regarding that production!)

Popular theater is popular for a reason...it must be entertaining, high-quality and accessible, three criteria that Theater Snobs traditionally eschew.  If a play is not obscure, it is not "thought-provoking."  If it is not convoluted and esoteric, it is not worthy of consideration.  Bullshit.

Theater is for everyone, not just the Snobs.  By looking down on theater simply because it is "popular," they betray the very essence of what theater is.  They unveil their own self-doubt, their own plaintive cries to be seen as relevant, their own gasping, narcissistic unimportance.

I find a general trend in Theater Snobs: when asked to perform, they are incapable of creating character, they are unable to bring depth of emotion, they are incomplete as performers.  One can be taught technique, but one must create Art.  Technique is external, Art is internal.  When you decry the Art of others simply to engender your own feelings of self-worth, you have exposed the utter lack of Art within you.  Snobbery creates a barren desert within your soul in which no Art may take root.

Lesson to be learned?  Enjoy the Art created by you and others as if you were a child discovering your first playground.  Approach it with joy, with enthusiasm, with heart.  Play as if there is nothing else to do in the world.  And when a Snob comes onto that playground to bully you, refuse to let him spoil what you have created.  Let him steep in his own juices until he can either foster the Art within himself, or he withers into  insignificance.  Trust me, there are plenty of other people to play with.

I have since "unfriended" him.

5 Pieces of Critical Information

As I cruise the various websites of local theatre groups, I have come across a disturbing trend: web designers are failing to include (or at least to make easily accessible) critical information for their paying audiences.

Simply put, there are 5 pieces of information that you must convey to your potential customer:

1. What is the event?
2. Where is the event?
3. When is the event?
4. What time does the event begin?
5. How much does the event cost?

Leave out any of these pieces of crucial information, and you have cost yourself money and robbed a potential audience member of the pleasure of attending your event.  And never assume that the web visitor will dig for the information they need; I am more persistent than a badger when it comes to digging through websites, and I have often become frustrated almost to the point of tears.

Without an audience we are nothing.  Without a paying customer, we are dead in the water.  Without the information they need, the audience cannot find you.

5 simple words: MAKE IT EASY FOR THEM.

Break a leg.

“White Christmas” – This Is How You Do It.

First, let me be clear that this is not a review; it is a short essay on how good local theatre can truly be. Second, understand I have no personal connection to the cast or crew of Lake Plains Players' "White Christmas." I have no sisters, brothers, second cousins or spouses in the show. That being said, I will now state the main idea of my essay: "White Christmas" is the best piece of theatre I've seen in a very long time (in the interests of impartiality I'm excluding from that statement anything I've been in or directed.)

When I say "best piece of theatre," that includes both local and professional shows. "White Christmas" proves that excellent theatre is obtainable at any and every level. A little bit of history as I understand it is necessary here: directed Lance Anderson has been itching to do this show for years. He convinced the board to give him the chance this year, and a wise decision it was. Mounting a musical of this magnitude requires a herculean effort, starting with an unheard of three months of rehearsals. Add top-notch choreography by Cheryl Johnson, spot-on performances by stars Joseph Kusmierczak, Jennifer Neroni, Matthew Mayne and Jennifer Bradley, wonderful sets and music and you have an evening of unforgettable entertainment.

What continues to amaze me, and part of why I formed the WNY Theatre Alliance in the first place, is the dedication and spirit of the members of our local theatre community. And yes, by "local" I do mean "non-professional." The term "non-professional," however, is misleading; I wish there was a better term for those of us who choose to eschew the professional companies in favor of groups like Lake Plains, Towne Players, Lancaster Regional Theatre, Amherst Players, Starry Night, Niagara Regional Theatre Guild, Theatre in the Mist and Aurora Players (to mention but a few) who produce professional-level works of art without all the baggage that comes with Alleyway, Irish Classical, Kavinkoky and the like. Yes, Virginia, there is theatre outside of Buffalo.

The cast & crew of "White Christmas" dedicated three months of their lives to this single work of art and produced a grand total of three performances. No "professional" theatre would ever consider such a thing. You tell me who does it for the love of the Theatre.

Sneek Peek - "Butterfingers Angel"

A Sneek Peek Preview of The Towne Players' production of

"Butterfingers Angel"