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.