Below is the first idle e-mail I sent to Dale and requested he distribute when I finally realized I had a crush on the Auntie Mame cast. I want to put it on the blog because it contains a very sober and simple expression of desires. It’s what’s real for me. Please remember the first e-mail as we go off on our tangents and to our extremes. For me it’s all sharing and it’s all performance and it’s all attempts to go to the extremes of thought and gesture to see what’s there. It’s how I play. But the seed of the group idea is in the text of the e-mail. That’s very real and realizable and doesn’t contradict anyone’s convictions (I hope). So I wrote this:
Dale knows I have a propensity for writing manic e-mails during my morning witching hour–you know: that period of caffeine fueled euphoria during which we believe our own press and that all things are possible; so I sent this to him first for comment and judicious distribution.
And now, if you are not put off by self-consciously baroque syntax, please continue and read the pitch.
In spite of the hurdles, I have enjoyed myself tremendously during this extended casting call we’re calling “Auntie Mame rehearsals.” Is there even a touch of an ensemble at work in our case? I honestly can’t say; we may all be feeling a bit too much like hired mercenaries at this point–or enlisted misfits with nothing to lose, like “the dirty dozen”–to gush about an ensemble sense. I have, however, grown addicted to sitting out in the house and watching performances and relationships grow rich and interesting, which doesn’t usually happen for me unless there’s a bit of ensemble feeling at work
A longing for that ensemble sense is why many of us agreed to do this production–that I do know; but I also grant that this play is not the meatiest vehicle for rich ensemble playing, nor have we really had an opportunity to fashion it in a rehearsal process an ensemble could exploit to the fullest. But hey. Here we are. And in spite of the interferences this commitment has wrought with my little life routines and all the serious business of keeping debts minimal and my butt out of jail, I’m having fun.
And so here’s the pitch for those who are also having fun: Why not put together a company? Just an informal little company: a collection of folks who might want to make a performance every now and then with interesting and worthwhile material. Not a theatre to rival NTC, mind you. No rivaling intended; this is not Elizabethan England or the Great White Way. In fact, our work could easily go up at NTC if a space is available. What we would offer, and it would be a unique addition to the Newnan performing community, is the fact that we are a company, an acting company, and we base our work on that idea, which implies a certain continuity and collaborative creativity (you know I’m pitching now because I’m getting alliterative) in our work.
Time involved? We have to keep it loose and fun or no one will want to do it. We might meet sporadically for a period while we are pushing around ideas for material and playing with performance approaches; we might just play for ourselves for a while to blow off steam. And if it begins to seem like we are ready and willing to approach a play, we do. We keep deadlines to a minimum and production activity manageable. We make a rehearsal period which serves our work needs. We will serve no wine before its time. And that becomes part of our product (financiers prick up your ears): we will be known for the detail, depth, daring, (there goes the alliteration again)confidence, and richness of our work.
Which doesn’t mean we can’t do musicals. I personally like musicals. I even do my own version of the Howard Keel vocal machismo thing. But I also like substantial dramatic literature. And often there is the possibility for a meaty combination of words and music. And there is such a thing as a profoundly satisfying, light theatrical diversion–we even have moments of it inn our work on Auntie Mame. Much is possible when a company goes to work.
But let me be careful; I don’t want to oppress anyone through my preoccupation with certain ideals. Though to be completely honest, I must show all of my hand: Dale mentioned to me the possibility of developing an experimental performance group, which is my little fiefdom of specialization (always trying to find a way to work that allows me to avoid having competitors–please no one say “oedipal impasse”). So, needless to say, I would like that possibility to be present in our company as well. But I also know enough to know that any kind of work we do, traditional or experimental, has to emerge naturally from where we are and how we work; it can’t be imposed, no matter how clever the conceit. I think my main motive for proposing the idea of a company is just wanting to have fun and play with fellow players and friends.
So that’s my take on it.
I’ve been lurking about, reading what everyone has to say, thinking that I had nothing of any import to contribute; however, I would, at this time, like to add my personal take on what is transpiring here.
The idea, as I understood it, was to be “edgy and experimental”. While everyone is contributing marvelous ideas for plays (both “popular” and some a bit on the “obscure” side) I would like to suggest that we try to do performances based on what WE create. Doing a play that has been performed before, even if it’s done in a novel way (a la the version of “Twelfth Night” that we did in the early 80’s–no laughing at the memory of my singing please, Dale) isn’t, by my definition, experimental. I know, I know… experimentation takes on many forms, but “traditional” theatre bores me to tears.
I have a few more thoughts but I believe that this provides at least a basis for a discussion.
That’s MY take on it.
reposted from the Yahoo email, from Marc:
Okay, here it comes. My mother hen anxieties are being triggered and I want to protect my chicks, all my chicks, to echo Arthur Miller. While I sympathize with what Noel is saying, and while I grant that yet another interesting version of Twelfth Night will not get us invited to the Edinburgh Next Wave Festival, I want to keep everyone under the same circus canopy (especially those who might be inclined to interpret “experimental” as another way of saying “indulgent,” or “masturbatory,” or “non-productive”–and who, frankly, might not have the time or inclination to follow our lively online discussions). I want to be Antoinin Artaud and Mickey Rooney: Allez, mon cheres, we can do dis ting, let’s put on de show, and by the way, no more masterpieces, and tell props the scorpions are not beeeg enough…the audience won’t be able to see those little ones crawling down MF’s legs…”
Consider this. A group can do anything. Anything. As long as it shares enough experiences and methods and vocabulary with which to work, and has a process comprehensive enough to “contain multitudes.” How do we get there?
Discussion and exercises and stepping in the void are all good, but so is the experience of performing a play together. Consider the Newnan-Coweta theatre arts scene. Any meat and potatoes acting effort undertaken by a GROUP which takes its time, which functions through deep links among the players, which has acquired a certain amount of fearlessness, is going to appear edgy and experimental to local audiences no matter what the script is. And it will feel edgy and experimental to us as performers. And we as a group, a group who is as interested in mounting a satisfying drawing room comedy as we are in interrogating the outer boundaries of possibility, will have enhanced our flexibility, our savoir faire, our sense of having a history from which to pull in the future. Not everyone in our merry band has had that kind of experience. Aren’t they entitled to taste it?
In certain ways, my experimentalism is rooted in a sentimental traditionalism. I like the company tradition and tales of players’ triumphs and challenges throughout Western theatre history. I have qualms with Jung, but the idea of The Players is an archetypal arrangement for the creative soul. I am waxing pretentious (easy for me). Not everyone may be comfortable with what it might mean to take liberties with fellow players in an effort to get closer to a sensation of truth. And experiment does require a certain relaxation and openness and a non-judgment perspective. So I am not worried that an ensemble playing experience with an already established script is going to put out our fire.
And there’s no reason why we can’t be doing both kinds of things…
reposted from the Yahoo email, from Dale:
I agree with Noel. I agree with Marc. I agree with Kevin. I agree
with Noel and Marc and Kevin. And no one is, as far as I can see,
actually disagreeing in substance.
This is an easy thing. We all want to get together and work together
as actors to dig deeper into what it means to give something to an
audience in a manner so truthful that it fascinates and frightens them.
So let’s get together and do that, both through scene work and
exercises and text work and the Vocal Sequence and whatever other tools
we can find to use.
Performance considerations will come. But later.
reposted from the Yahoo email, from Noel:
I’d like to agree with Marc as well. If only I knew what the hell he was talking about. Don’t we have a Reader’s Digest rule?
I kid. I kid because I love.
I do have a background in psychoanalysis, yes. Yes, I know Lacan is imbedded in Lacuna, but that was accidental. Really.