Ah! The lure of live theatre is just as much about the possibility of spectacular crashes as your average NASCAR event. It is just that the crashes in live theatre tend to be less fiery and more humiliating.
I've spent many a drunken evening lifting my glass to the glory of crashing. I've extolled the virtues of a messy theatre - a survivalist theatre, if you will- to anyone who would sit and listen. Well, if my company's production of "Adventures in Mating" has taught me anything it has taught me that anyone can talk. When it comes down to it, messiness is terrifying.
When you are involved in a show that has 60 different scene combinations and a rotating cast running one night a week messiness is no longer some passionate, adolescent artistic fantasy. It is a fact of life. Sitting in the back of the theatre watching these performers that I love and trust face the Goliath of a script and an audience every week is nerve wracking. It feels like I've thrown my baby to the lions armed with a Swiss army knife and some hugs. If the lion gets too close, son, give him a big hug and hope he melts. If he doesn't, well, I hope you can jam that knife into his jugular before it's too late. If that doesn't work out, well, it was nice knowing you. Bye. Mommy loves you!
It is sick to enjoy this feeling of dread every week. We're still tinkering with the formula, but I have faith that we will be a well oiled machine in a couple of months.
Of course, when that happens we will be required to up the ante and make it just a little more dangerous.
I only hope I'll get to see Ben's fully comitted, utterly dorky air kick again. That was a thing of beauty.
Friday, July 27, 2007
Sunday, July 22, 2007
In the Beginning...
If Harry Potter has taught me anything it is that selling the premise is the most important thing in storytelling.
No, you won't find any spoilers about the Deathly Hallows in here so it is safe to read on.
A multitude of literary sins can be forgiven if you can do two things. The first is to believably construct the premise of the story. The second is to avoid betraying that construct. That's it. The key is not in gags, one-liners or even artfully turned phrases. It is the framework and adherence to that framework that matters. As my teachers used to say, "Within form there is freedom!". That, my friends, is the ultimate truth.
We cannot create in chaos. We crave order, outline and form. Pathways are important. They need not always be linear, but they do need to exist. Creation is the process of order- putting details in their proper places for a purpose. The purpose is usually to entertain, but if you go just slightly deeper than that you will find the desire to place the Universe in a context that can be understood. Ah, but if I go any further I will start sounding like that jackass Aristotle. (I'm joking Aristotle! I'm joking! Don't get your toga in a knot!)
So, if I am to look at literary creation from a constructive, as opposed to deconstructive, perspective I would need to consider the world in which my journey would take place. Now, here's the question, how does one construct the literary framework that will provide enough structure to sell the premise of the story without over constructing it so as to squelch all creative discovery? How do you give yourself enough room to surprise yourself and learn something new while still giving form and shape to the general premise? How do you know when you have it just right?
I was trying ot explain to my husband some of the finer points of the seventh Harry Potter book (which I know he will never read so I am free to spoil things all I want) and found myself flitting from book to book to make some of the things from the seventh book make sense to him. I can't help but marvel at the framework that Rowling has created even if I have found her phrasing to be tiresome and repetitive at times. That repetition is forgivable, in my estimation, because the structure of the tale is so well done and she never betrays her characters or her boundaries. Truth be told, she could have written complete crap and I'd never know it because I've become so invested in the series, the characters and the outcome of the circumstances. I've bought the premise and she could pull me to the ends of the earth and I would go willingly because she has earned my trust.
As a reader I am like a skittish little squirrel (I can't imagine I'm the only one!) and I can be scared off by formless storytelling. Betray the characters for the convenience of the story and I will rail against you like a New York City pigeon at the old lady who has just run out of bread crumbs. So I am beginning to think that my focus in my own work should be on the framework. On the beginning. I've got to sell the premise.
And I maybe should stay away from metaphors for a while...
No, you won't find any spoilers about the Deathly Hallows in here so it is safe to read on.
A multitude of literary sins can be forgiven if you can do two things. The first is to believably construct the premise of the story. The second is to avoid betraying that construct. That's it. The key is not in gags, one-liners or even artfully turned phrases. It is the framework and adherence to that framework that matters. As my teachers used to say, "Within form there is freedom!". That, my friends, is the ultimate truth.
We cannot create in chaos. We crave order, outline and form. Pathways are important. They need not always be linear, but they do need to exist. Creation is the process of order- putting details in their proper places for a purpose. The purpose is usually to entertain, but if you go just slightly deeper than that you will find the desire to place the Universe in a context that can be understood. Ah, but if I go any further I will start sounding like that jackass Aristotle. (I'm joking Aristotle! I'm joking! Don't get your toga in a knot!)
So, if I am to look at literary creation from a constructive, as opposed to deconstructive, perspective I would need to consider the world in which my journey would take place. Now, here's the question, how does one construct the literary framework that will provide enough structure to sell the premise of the story without over constructing it so as to squelch all creative discovery? How do you give yourself enough room to surprise yourself and learn something new while still giving form and shape to the general premise? How do you know when you have it just right?
I was trying ot explain to my husband some of the finer points of the seventh Harry Potter book (which I know he will never read so I am free to spoil things all I want) and found myself flitting from book to book to make some of the things from the seventh book make sense to him. I can't help but marvel at the framework that Rowling has created even if I have found her phrasing to be tiresome and repetitive at times. That repetition is forgivable, in my estimation, because the structure of the tale is so well done and she never betrays her characters or her boundaries. Truth be told, she could have written complete crap and I'd never know it because I've become so invested in the series, the characters and the outcome of the circumstances. I've bought the premise and she could pull me to the ends of the earth and I would go willingly because she has earned my trust.
As a reader I am like a skittish little squirrel (I can't imagine I'm the only one!) and I can be scared off by formless storytelling. Betray the characters for the convenience of the story and I will rail against you like a New York City pigeon at the old lady who has just run out of bread crumbs. So I am beginning to think that my focus in my own work should be on the framework. On the beginning. I've got to sell the premise.
And I maybe should stay away from metaphors for a while...
Thursday, July 12, 2007
MacGyver It
I'm bored with smoke and mirrors. I tire of things blowing up and gratuitous CGI. It annoys me to see a film or theater performance where the art direction dictates and overwhelms the story as opposed to enhancing it. I prefer the aesthetics of limitation.
Limitation does not mean everything must be stripped down to a black box with a couple of apple boxes. On the contrary. It is the creative problem solving while laboring under a tight budget that results the most sumptious and luscious visuals. Cheap and creative really gets my juices flowing. I once saw some friends solve a narrative problem in their film by projecting a film of things that were on the character's mind on the hood of the character's car while he was doing a driving shot. It looked great and it quickly solved a visual and narrative dilemma. The 1971 "Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory" is another of my favorite examples. That was a visually creative film without the gigantic budget films we see today. The visuals support the story, they don't drive the story. That creepy sequence in the boat is terrifying (at least, it was pretty damn intense when I was a kid) and that was done with lights and projection. Oh, and the endless office...what movie was that? Was that in "The Apartment"? That huge, never ending office mostrosity was simply a trick of mirrors.
I worry that the answer to so many creative dilemmas is just "throw some money at it". This does not mean that I do not enjoy or respect the artistry of computer animation or brilliant pyrotechnics or great stunt work. I do! However any tool needs to be used with understanding of each tool's strengths and weaknesses. No tool can make up for a lack of story or character development. Not for me, anyway. To me the endless parade of nonsensical light shows, whizzes and bangs is the equivelent of watching those videos made to entertain your cat when you're away for an extended period of time.
I advocate slapdash, spit and polish productions that make things work in spite of their lack of funds. It is fun to see a show that can whisk you away on the merits of the story, I certainly wish I could see more.
Limitation does not mean everything must be stripped down to a black box with a couple of apple boxes. On the contrary. It is the creative problem solving while laboring under a tight budget that results the most sumptious and luscious visuals. Cheap and creative really gets my juices flowing. I once saw some friends solve a narrative problem in their film by projecting a film of things that were on the character's mind on the hood of the character's car while he was doing a driving shot. It looked great and it quickly solved a visual and narrative dilemma. The 1971 "Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory" is another of my favorite examples. That was a visually creative film without the gigantic budget films we see today. The visuals support the story, they don't drive the story. That creepy sequence in the boat is terrifying (at least, it was pretty damn intense when I was a kid) and that was done with lights and projection. Oh, and the endless office...what movie was that? Was that in "The Apartment"? That huge, never ending office mostrosity was simply a trick of mirrors.
I worry that the answer to so many creative dilemmas is just "throw some money at it". This does not mean that I do not enjoy or respect the artistry of computer animation or brilliant pyrotechnics or great stunt work. I do! However any tool needs to be used with understanding of each tool's strengths and weaknesses. No tool can make up for a lack of story or character development. Not for me, anyway. To me the endless parade of nonsensical light shows, whizzes and bangs is the equivelent of watching those videos made to entertain your cat when you're away for an extended period of time.
I advocate slapdash, spit and polish productions that make things work in spite of their lack of funds. It is fun to see a show that can whisk you away on the merits of the story, I certainly wish I could see more.
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
Letting Be
I sometimes wonder if I have "style". My favorite artists leave a mark on their work that is so distinct, not because they have a rubber stamp of their personality that they routinely use to hold down loose ends, but because they can't help it. The way they see the world and themselves in it is so individual that it seeps into their work regardless of the medium of genre. Arthur Miller has a very distinct and curious view of the world. Billy Wilder made wildly different films and yet, as different as they are, they all have an unmistakable wit to them that crosses over from noir to comedy because of Wilder and his ever-present collaborator I.A.L Diamond. Hal Ashby's films have a bizarre and uniquely masculine sensitivity. I could watch Katherine Hepburn all day long and never tire of seeing how she transforms her "Yankee sensibility" to fit her roles. The list goes on.
How I long to emulate them. Their style, their grace and, above all, their great wit and insight. But I also know that I cannot force myself to be anyone or anything other than what I am. If I am to have a style at all it can only be defined by who and what I am. I can pay hommage to the performers/ writers/ directors I love, but I cannot be them. I have to be honest with myself.
In a way that, well, that sucks. There is no short cut to self discovery and it is hard to just be who and what you truly are. There are roles we play. I often catch myself speaking in my sisters' voices. I sound like Kristen when I tell a joke. I sound like Pam when I flirt. Sometimes I will adopt the cadence of my friends' speech. I sound like Britt when I tell a wry or dirty anecdote. When I'm with Aaron I have to force myself not to conform to his London sound. I'm a verbal Zelig, changing my speech to suit my message and my audience. Then I go home and beat myself soundly for acting such a fool. Why can't you just be yourself? You look like such an idiot! Everybody knows you're a fake and a fraud! Stupid actor! Stupid stupid actor!
Clearly, that will not help me in my quest. But it is so much easier to be angry and self- destructive than it is to be responsible for change and growth. Anger and self-hatred is easy. Acceptance is hard.
A while back a friend of mine read a script I wrote. His first comment was, "Well, it's got your fingerprints all over it". I took that as a great compliment. Then I noticed that he didn't say anything about that being a good thing. My dilemma was how to take that comment. Do I worry about what a dork I am? Or do I realize that this guy is my friend for a reason and maybe my "fingerprints" might not be among the world's greatest, but if they are uniquely mine then I guess I've accomplished something.
I've expressed my self.
How I long to emulate them. Their style, their grace and, above all, their great wit and insight. But I also know that I cannot force myself to be anyone or anything other than what I am. If I am to have a style at all it can only be defined by who and what I am. I can pay hommage to the performers/ writers/ directors I love, but I cannot be them. I have to be honest with myself.
In a way that, well, that sucks. There is no short cut to self discovery and it is hard to just be who and what you truly are. There are roles we play. I often catch myself speaking in my sisters' voices. I sound like Kristen when I tell a joke. I sound like Pam when I flirt. Sometimes I will adopt the cadence of my friends' speech. I sound like Britt when I tell a wry or dirty anecdote. When I'm with Aaron I have to force myself not to conform to his London sound. I'm a verbal Zelig, changing my speech to suit my message and my audience. Then I go home and beat myself soundly for acting such a fool. Why can't you just be yourself? You look like such an idiot! Everybody knows you're a fake and a fraud! Stupid actor! Stupid stupid actor!
Clearly, that will not help me in my quest. But it is so much easier to be angry and self- destructive than it is to be responsible for change and growth. Anger and self-hatred is easy. Acceptance is hard.
A while back a friend of mine read a script I wrote. His first comment was, "Well, it's got your fingerprints all over it". I took that as a great compliment. Then I noticed that he didn't say anything about that being a good thing. My dilemma was how to take that comment. Do I worry about what a dork I am? Or do I realize that this guy is my friend for a reason and maybe my "fingerprints" might not be among the world's greatest, but if they are uniquely mine then I guess I've accomplished something.
I've expressed my self.
Friday, July 06, 2007
The End of the World
Leave it to me to find some reason to fret about my art while I sit under a dark cloud threatening to rain armaggeddon.
I was on the train yesterday reading Aristotle's Poetics. Now, I don't normally flaunt highly intellectual reading material on the subway but since I had just finished re-reading the last two Harry Potter books (in giddy anticipation of the upcoming movie and book release) and I hadn't had time to get to the book store to pick up a new summer read I decided to chew on some literary vegetables for a while. It has been on my shelf forever and I have never read it. I have trouble reading things everyone says I "should" read. I'm a contrary pig that way. At any rate, I skipped the introduction (which is, incidentally, longer than Aristotle's actual work) and started reading.
I found myself arguing a bit with dear Aristotle. You see, I bristle at any distinction between "high" and "low" art. His first mention of comedy seemed snobby and his critical disdain for satire and parody got my back up a bit. Then there was this little nugget: "Objects which in themselves we view with pain, we delight to contemplate when reproduced with minute fidelity: such as the forms of the most ignoble animals and of dead bodies. The cause of this again is that to learn gives the liveliest pleasure, not only to philosophers but to men in general; whose capacity, however, of learning is more limited." And so it has always been this way. Intellectuals tout their superiority over the masses and those who enjoy popular entertainment are irritated by the intellectuals' sense of self importance. So the chasm between the two grows and popular entertainment becomes raunchier and more grotesque while more "intellectual" entertainment becomes so lofty- to borrow a phrase from the character of Mozart in Peter Shaffer's "Amadeus"- they become so lofty it is as if they "shit marble".
The previews before Michael Moore's movie "Sicko" were full of this self- important, self- congratulatory air. It was so noticable that it caused my husband to quip, "Even the company logos are pretenscious." Oh look how clever and how visually stunning we are! Meanwhile the important things, I truly believe, the important messages are being delivered in comedy clubs and improv venues across the country. Subversives love these funny little hidey holes and they say whatever they want there. I'm willing to bet you that the best prophets throughout the centuries were funny. I bet Jesus had a raging sense of humor that we never hear about. How else could he command such a following? Think about it. People were no more nor less intellectual in Jesus' time. Certainly the best church experiences I ever had were while listening to priests who could set you up with a good joke and then reach through the humor with an insight that would knock you off your kneeler. So I think the "low" when done with great intelligence can be much more sublime than the "high" done with great sincerity, and ultimately it is more effective. And fun.
Intellectuals give off the reeking stench of seriousness, as if fun was beneath them. No wonder "men in general" show no interest in that kind of "learning". It is the word "capacity" with which I take issue, Aristotle (or possibly your careless translator) because I believe every human has an infinite capacity for learning. It is the desire that may or may not be lacking. Regardless, I find this schism to be dangerous in today's social and political climate.
Art and critical thinking can be great mobilizing forces in times of strife. But, if art and thought are not communicated in ways that reach people they are completely useless. As I look at where things are headed in this country I consider my own skill set and wonder what these skills are for. I am a talker. If I remain mute when I could have inspired a conversation or a debate then I have not been true to myself and my natural inclinations. If I talk, but only speak to please myself and indulge my own ego then I have not been true to my calling and I will have failed to reach anyone else. If I want my work to have meaning and to function in this society then I need to ask questions and craft my thoughts clearly and set my ego and my personal need for validation aside. I don't have to be the smartest. I have to be the bravest and most honest I can be in order for my work to be relevant. I have to get out of my own way and focus only on communicating with my audience.
And if Aristotle wants to classify my work as "low" I would wear it as a badge of honor.
I was on the train yesterday reading Aristotle's Poetics. Now, I don't normally flaunt highly intellectual reading material on the subway but since I had just finished re-reading the last two Harry Potter books (in giddy anticipation of the upcoming movie and book release) and I hadn't had time to get to the book store to pick up a new summer read I decided to chew on some literary vegetables for a while. It has been on my shelf forever and I have never read it. I have trouble reading things everyone says I "should" read. I'm a contrary pig that way. At any rate, I skipped the introduction (which is, incidentally, longer than Aristotle's actual work) and started reading.
I found myself arguing a bit with dear Aristotle. You see, I bristle at any distinction between "high" and "low" art. His first mention of comedy seemed snobby and his critical disdain for satire and parody got my back up a bit. Then there was this little nugget: "Objects which in themselves we view with pain, we delight to contemplate when reproduced with minute fidelity: such as the forms of the most ignoble animals and of dead bodies. The cause of this again is that to learn gives the liveliest pleasure, not only to philosophers but to men in general; whose capacity, however, of learning is more limited." And so it has always been this way. Intellectuals tout their superiority over the masses and those who enjoy popular entertainment are irritated by the intellectuals' sense of self importance. So the chasm between the two grows and popular entertainment becomes raunchier and more grotesque while more "intellectual" entertainment becomes so lofty- to borrow a phrase from the character of Mozart in Peter Shaffer's "Amadeus"- they become so lofty it is as if they "shit marble".
The previews before Michael Moore's movie "Sicko" were full of this self- important, self- congratulatory air. It was so noticable that it caused my husband to quip, "Even the company logos are pretenscious." Oh look how clever and how visually stunning we are! Meanwhile the important things, I truly believe, the important messages are being delivered in comedy clubs and improv venues across the country. Subversives love these funny little hidey holes and they say whatever they want there. I'm willing to bet you that the best prophets throughout the centuries were funny. I bet Jesus had a raging sense of humor that we never hear about. How else could he command such a following? Think about it. People were no more nor less intellectual in Jesus' time. Certainly the best church experiences I ever had were while listening to priests who could set you up with a good joke and then reach through the humor with an insight that would knock you off your kneeler. So I think the "low" when done with great intelligence can be much more sublime than the "high" done with great sincerity, and ultimately it is more effective. And fun.
Intellectuals give off the reeking stench of seriousness, as if fun was beneath them. No wonder "men in general" show no interest in that kind of "learning". It is the word "capacity" with which I take issue, Aristotle (or possibly your careless translator) because I believe every human has an infinite capacity for learning. It is the desire that may or may not be lacking. Regardless, I find this schism to be dangerous in today's social and political climate.
Art and critical thinking can be great mobilizing forces in times of strife. But, if art and thought are not communicated in ways that reach people they are completely useless. As I look at where things are headed in this country I consider my own skill set and wonder what these skills are for. I am a talker. If I remain mute when I could have inspired a conversation or a debate then I have not been true to myself and my natural inclinations. If I talk, but only speak to please myself and indulge my own ego then I have not been true to my calling and I will have failed to reach anyone else. If I want my work to have meaning and to function in this society then I need to ask questions and craft my thoughts clearly and set my ego and my personal need for validation aside. I don't have to be the smartest. I have to be the bravest and most honest I can be in order for my work to be relevant. I have to get out of my own way and focus only on communicating with my audience.
And if Aristotle wants to classify my work as "low" I would wear it as a badge of honor.
Wednesday, July 04, 2007
On Michael Moore
I can't, in good conscience, call Michael Moore a documentarian. He is nothing of the sort. He is not a proper journalist either. He shows no interest in objectivity or even handed reporting. He has a very clear objective- he wants to win the audience over to his point of view. If I were to look at him as a documentary film maker I would be irritated. I would be pissed as hell as his films, entertaining though they are, are not documentaries. Regardless of the fact that my own personal politics are somewhat in line with Mr. Moore's, I do criticize his films' catagorization as documentary. They simply are not.
So it is a good thing that I can see him for what he really is... a writer (an essayist to be precise) who discovered that he could make a convincing argument on film that more people would see than would ever read anything he ever wrote. If I look at him as such, then I can sit back and enjoy his films with a third less guilt and pissiness.
I recently saw Moore's most recent film, "Sicko", which has been applauded by some of his most vociferous detractors. I was curious. None of the information was necessarily new to me, but Moore has a talent for putting things in a context that can get under your skin. He also has a talent for putting just the right, vomit inducing clips of W and Cheney in just the right place to make you want to pull all your flesh off and chew it until the urge to repeatedly pummel them (Dick and W, that is) in the face subsides. His use of music is more than a little heavy handed at times and he dismisses the idea that there might be issues with socialized medicine. I know why he dismisses it and I even agree with his overall assessment, but I think the omission weakens his argument to a certain degree.
However, I thought the film was affecting and more powerful than "Farenheit 9/11". I left the theater tired and red in the face from crying- as did a good portion of the audience who saw it with me including the solid looking, middle aged white guy in a suit who sat across the aisle from me. I felt for the people who appeared in the film and their stories touched me deeply. However, I am left with little to do now that the lights are up and the film is over. I feel empty and helpless. He made some veiled suggestion that we take to the streets, that we organize and vote... but organize for what? Vote for whom? You have my attention. You have my will.
Now tell me what I can do.
So it is a good thing that I can see him for what he really is... a writer (an essayist to be precise) who discovered that he could make a convincing argument on film that more people would see than would ever read anything he ever wrote. If I look at him as such, then I can sit back and enjoy his films with a third less guilt and pissiness.
I recently saw Moore's most recent film, "Sicko", which has been applauded by some of his most vociferous detractors. I was curious. None of the information was necessarily new to me, but Moore has a talent for putting things in a context that can get under your skin. He also has a talent for putting just the right, vomit inducing clips of W and Cheney in just the right place to make you want to pull all your flesh off and chew it until the urge to repeatedly pummel them (Dick and W, that is) in the face subsides. His use of music is more than a little heavy handed at times and he dismisses the idea that there might be issues with socialized medicine. I know why he dismisses it and I even agree with his overall assessment, but I think the omission weakens his argument to a certain degree.
However, I thought the film was affecting and more powerful than "Farenheit 9/11". I left the theater tired and red in the face from crying- as did a good portion of the audience who saw it with me including the solid looking, middle aged white guy in a suit who sat across the aisle from me. I felt for the people who appeared in the film and their stories touched me deeply. However, I am left with little to do now that the lights are up and the film is over. I feel empty and helpless. He made some veiled suggestion that we take to the streets, that we organize and vote... but organize for what? Vote for whom? You have my attention. You have my will.
Now tell me what I can do.
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