must read

Must read on Daisey show, a must see when it returns this spring:

http://parabasis.typepad.com/blog/2008/01/how-theater-f-1.html

It makes me want to form a theater company on the Ridiculous Theater model:

i.e. one that does plays (preferably my plays) in rep for months and months.

The First Ever Caption Contest on this blog

My nephew and their cat. Please leave LOLcats captions of your invention in the comments. I mean, unless you're chicken.

...Or it could be LOLbabies.

something new

A new blog by a playwright friend set up to showcase writing.

http://gettheguests.blogspot.com/

A piece of my play is the second post.

new scene, 1st draft as always

(NURSE 2 enters the room. DR. X is handcuffed to the bed. They look at each other for a long time. Neither of them moves. Then, finally, NURSE 2 approaches.) NURSE 2 I have medication for you. It’ll allow you to sleep. DR. X It’s you. NURSE 2 Yes. DR. X It’s really you. NURSE 2 Yes. DR. X I can’t believe it. NURSE 2 I didn’t know if you’d know me. DR. X I couldn’t ever forget you. NURSE 2 I thought you might. DR. X I thought I’d never see you again. NURSE 2 Me either. DR. X You’re all I think about. Day and night. Afternoon. Morning. When I’m dreaming. When I’m awake. When I’m loading my syringe or washing the dishes. When I’m thinking about getting a cat, really I’m thinking about you. I do it all for you. NURSE 2 I wish you would stop. DR.X If I can’t have love, no one can. NURSE 2 That seems unfair. DR.X Tell me--What is your name? NURSE 2 You don’t know? DR.X No. NURSE 2 Well, let’s keep it this way. DR. X Why is it I can’t remember your name, yet all I think of is you? NURSE 2 Maybe it’s because I hit you on the head. DR.X You did? NURSE 2 Before I left. DR. X Oh. NURSE 2 You were sleeping so peacefully. I wrote the note and I put it where I thought you would see it. DR. X You didn’t sign it. NURSE 2 I thought it was a very polite note but I thought maybe you didn’t necessarily understand polite based on my past experiences with you. So I hit you over the head with a frying pan just to be sure you got the message. You didn’t wake up so I hit you again just to be sure. Then I checked your vitals and everything was OK so I went to work. And I never saw you again. Now it turns out you’re Dr. X. DR.X And you’re, Molly? NURSE 2 No. DR.X Sylvia? NURSE 2 No. DR.X Gertrude. NURSE 2 No. DR.X Betsy? NURSE 2 Listen, I’m not going to tell you. In fact I’m thinking of hitting you over the head again just to make sure you don’t remember that I work here. DR.X Why didn’t it work out between us? NURSE 2 It just didn’t. DR. X Your face. NURSE 2 Please don’t say it. DR.X It’s like a plate. NURSE 2 Oh, God. DR. X I may be handcuffed to the bed right now, but that won’t always be the case. We can run off together. You could even help me escape. NURSE 2 I’m going to transfer to a different hospital. DR. X Don’t do that. NURSE 2 I might move to a different state. DR. X We could move together. NURSE 2 This is the last time you’ll see me. DR. X You don’t know that. No one ever knows that. NURSE 2 I’ll make sure this time. DR. X No. NURSE 2 It was good to see you. I think I had to see you. I had to know. Now I know I made the right decision. DR. X No! NURSE 2 Good bye Dr. X. DR. X Nooooo! (NURSE 2 exits.) DR. X Noooo! Come back! Come back.

you can too

http://noimpactman.typepad.com/

"No Impact Man is my experiment with researching, developing and adopting a way of life for me and my little family—one wife, one toddler, one dog—to live in the heart of New York City while causing no net environmental impact. "

I recommend

Amazons and Their Men

https://www.ovationtix.com/trs/pr/23881

I saw this show over the summer. It's well worth seeing.

why

do i wink at myself in the mirror?

article

on the amazing Adam Driver:

http://www.nytimes.com/2008/01/10/theater/10driver.html?pagewanted=1&_r=2&ref=theater

language

I've been thinking a lot about things that you can do onstage that don't work on TV or in film. Definitely there is a theater spectacle that won't work in the small box or the big screen and this usually asks for the audience's imagination to play a role. There are pieces missing from the set perhaps or the staging is not literal and we must imagine that actors are in places they are not actually. Sort of like a blue screen when the audience is asked to create--which can make for a much more amazing setting because when one creates it oneself, it is much realer on an individual level. But that's not what I want to talk about, because that is the realm of the director and we writers rely on their genius to create beautiful things and we all rely on the audience to make little leaps with us. And I don't have the vocabulary to discuss it nor can I create it myself or understand why it is so pleasurable to watch a hint of something instead of have everything filled in. What I want to talk about is the current movement that might be called language-based expressionism that I find exciting on the stage. Often a vocabulary of stage imagery and spectacle is also there. Chuck Mee does this a lot or think of Ruhl's house of string in Euridice. But what is just as exciting in my opinion is the non-naturalistic language that characters use. Sheila Callaghan does this. Sarah Ruhl does this. Adam Bock, Anne Washburn, some of Mac Wellman's students. Many of the poets of the stage from Brown do this. And a lot of other people dabble in it. It's become a movement of sorts. When TV and Film are catching up it's one of the last things we have left. (although you might argue that Deadwood or even the Sopranos sometimes leave the realm of naturalism, they don't do it to the extent that it can be done on the stage.) I'm not sure why this works exactly for the stage. And it doesn't always, but when it does, it's amazing. Perhaps it is because we are more willing to suspend disbelief. Perhaps it has something to do with the space between the stage and the people. Some kind of energy transformed through the air. But enough of that. What am I talking about that I'm so excited about? Here are some examples: Some Adam Bock Sheila Callaghan here or here. The blogosphere's own Matthew Freeman here. I can't express this movement as well as I'd like. I'd love to hear what others have to say about it. What it is, where it's going. Here is a site about Mojo Theater, a much more specific delineation. I do think that a playfulness of language and a flexibility of it is necessary to the future of our great American theater. And I'm looking forward to seeing where it will take us.

a translation

The Page 73 blog

http://www.p73.org/news/

Everything's Coming Up Playwrights

Yesterday K got some great news.

Today I got some great news.

Will tell you soon. I swear.

but yay! The sun came out.

voting machines

http://www.nytimes.com/2008/01/06/magazine/06Vote-t.html?_r=1&oref=slogin

"Introduced after the 2000 hanging-chad debacle, the machines were originally intended to add clarity to election results. But in hundreds of instances, the result has been precisely the opposite: they fail unpredictably, and in extremely strange ways; voters report that their choices "flip" from one candidate to another before their eyes; machines crash or begin to count backward; votes simply vanish. (In the 80-person town of Waldenburg, Ark., touch-screen machines tallied zero votes for one mayoral candidate in 2006 — even though he's pretty sure he voted for himself.)"

Republicans and Democrats

http://mrexcitement.blogspot.com/2008/01/how-they-won.html

How the right stopped the health care plan

reprinted with permission

When I read the recent Playwrights Horizons mailing promising Ruhl's new play, I was surprised to discover some entertaining and enlightening articles. Here is one by Adam Greenfield about dramaturgy. Not a Four-Letter Word It never fails. You drop the word in conversation, perhaps at a dinner party, and eyes begin to glaze over. Whether you’re surrounded by dearest friends, closest family, or even your most sinister rivals, nothing can so reliably promise a blank stare in return as the mere mention of this word. Which is totally understandable: 1) In the greater context, it’s a relatively new word; 2) Nobody knows what it means, except the people who do it; 3) Even the people who do do it have a hard time explaining what it is, exactly, that they do do; 4) Its combination of consonants and vowels simply do not fall prettily upon the ears. I fear, even, that once you come upon this word in print after this sentence, you’ll grow immediately bored, roll your eyes, and turn the page to read about subscriber perks. “Dramaturgy.” (Still there?) I decided to spend my column-inches in our newsletter this month writing about this word in the attempt to identify, specify and de-mystify the many meanings it has. Perhaps, if I do this right, the word won’t evoke so much awkwardness; perhaps I’ll be more suave when the subject arises; perhaps my parents, who still tell their friends that I’m an actor, will get what I do. We know, of course, that the “wright” (as opposed to the “write”) that we see at the end of the word “playwright” suggests that this artist is not simply a writer of plays, but a “maker” or a “worker” of plays, just as a wainwright is a maker of wagons and a wheelwright is a maker of wheels. Similarly, the word “dramaturgy,” comprised of the Greek root drame (“play, action, or deed”) and the suffix -urgy, (“process, or working”) reflects an active process, the examination of what makes the gears of a play move, just as metallurgy is the working of metals and thaumaturgy is the working of miracles. A dramaturg strives to understand the building blocks of storytelling and performance, seeing deep into the soul of a play, discovering the tectonic plates a writer has arranged to make a story unfold, and to make sure the story, the storytellers, and the spectators are all aligned so that the live theatrical event works. The birth of the capital-D Dramaturg as a job title came when Gotthold Lessing was hired by Germany’s Hamburg Repertory in 1767. A playwright and theatre critic, Lessing’s careful evaluation and advocacy of new writers led to the development of a new repertory of German works. He became a kind of resident moralizer for the theatre, seeking a theater climate freed from commercial pressures, striving to continuously challenge an audience who was at first resistant to the growing German Romantic movement of the time. Quickly, the Dramaturg was established in all of Germany’s major repertory companies. In time it took hold in European theaters, but it wasn’t until the 1960’s that this position emerged in America. So, in the spectrum of theater’s history, this job is quite new. Time is sure to bring a continued evolution of this job; consider how much the role of Director has evolved since it became prevalent in nineteenth century. Today’s dramaturg is constantly being defined and redefined, both in the context of a production and a theater company’s day-to-day operations. At his or her core, a dramaturg seeks to ensure that the stories selected for the stage in a given season are being told as effectively, according to the playwrights’ intents, as possible. The greatest ally, one hopes, of Playwright, Director, and Producer, a dramaturg is a shape-shifter, keeping a watchful eye on how the story lands on an audience. But every play operates according to its own unique system of rules, and every project evolves according to its own unique process, so the dramaturg is forced to be enormously flexible, changing the manner in which he or she works according to the varying dictates of each day. Perhaps this is the reason a dramaturg’s role in the process is so hard to pin down. Any dramaturg will have coined a different metaphor for their role in rehearsals. Depending on the play’s needs, you’re asked to be an atlas, a glossary, a muse, a mediator, an editor, a biographer, an historian, a therapist, a fascist dictator, a court jester, a philosopher, a watchdog. But working on productions is really just one part of the job. A dramaturg also acts as a sort of in-house critic for a theater company, keeping an eye on a theater’s artistic mission, holding its actions up against its stated purpose. In many theaters, “Literary Manager” is synonymous with “Dramaturg” because the act of tracking new plays and writers is a dramaturgical function. Working with marketing and development departments, a dramaturg will also help to make sure that a play or production is being accurately represented and contextualized to its patrons, funders, and audiences. (If Long Day’s Journey Into Night, for example, is being billed as “a family comedy,” we’ll step in.) I write this from the Southwest corner of the Playwrights Horizons offices here on the third floor of 416 W. 42nd Street, where the winsome Christie Evangelisto and myself collaboratively head the dramaturgical goings-on of the theater. While Christie focuses on musical theater and I focus on non-musicals, she and I take turns working on productions, and we’re blessed with a staff of dramaturgically-minded cohorts. Steven Levenson (Literary Assistant), Elliot B. Quick (Literary Resident), and Katie Courtien (Musical Theatre Resident) are all a terrific support staff with a keen ear for dramatic storytelling, and under the leadership of head honcho Tim Sanford, the six-member Literary Department is dramaturgical dream-team. Together, we’re busy reading and advocating new stories and new writers, supporting the development of new voices, and helping to ensure our programming remains aligned with Playwrights Horizons’ mission to promote American playwriting. We’re just sorry that we killed the dinner party.