Reviews. Cymbeline. Directing.

When I'm criticized in a review, I take it very seriously, as I'm sure most performers do. Much like life in general, in performance, many of us compare our outtakes to everyone else's highlight reel - our worst against their best. There's an insecurity, even when we've spent an enormous amount of time and effort developing general skills and doing specific work on the particular piece at issue. Also, I always suspect everyone will read a review and take every word in it as gospel. I'm not sure why, since I don't do that. So, all of that being said, it's a great feeling to get a good review. But it's a strange, bittersweet feeling when you do a show and the review is very positive about your performance but not a good review of the show overall. My attitude on good reviews is not to give them much weight at all. I generally try to ignore them, because I want to minimize the gutting feeling of getting a bad one. Obviously, this came up because of a recent review: MUCH-ADO-ABOUT-NOTHING-Features-Strong-Leads-but-a-Few-Flaws

Speaking of challenges, I'm preparing to direct Cymbeline. I like to read as much as I can about a play while I'm working on it. Criticism, historical context, whatever seems relevant to the play at issue. With a play like Cymbeline, there isn't a lot out there. One thing that I find really intriguing is the significance of the location of Milford-Haven. It's significant for one reason that I think probably would have been known to Shakespeare - it's where Henry Tudor landed when he returned from the continent to challenge Richard III for the crown. The play seems very much *about* Britain - the word Britain appears numerous times in the text. I'm pretty sure this is no coincidence, but I just haven't quite connected all the dots yet.

But on to the challenges. Aside from the obvious (Jupiter appears, riding an eagle), I think I may struggle with getting enough men to even do the show. The theatre is in a small town outside of Austin. The team down there is really good, the space is really good. The distance will probably scare some people off, though. Which gives me another challenge - how to combine roles, gender swap characters in a non-confusing way, double parts, or cut the play to minimize the number of actors necessary.

Something I've been wanting to write about for a while is a reminder to myself before the Cymbeline auditions. Kind of a little manifesto for casting. My job as director is to put the best show on stage that I can. In order to do that, I need to get as much of a sense of what actors are capable of as possible. That means that I need to make them comfortable in the audition room. I need to give them a sense of what I'm looking for in various parts, rather than just expecting them to read my mind. I need to give them direction in the audition, to see how well they can adjust and change. And I also need to keep my mind open to different interpretations of characters. All of this, of course, is balanced against a REALLY short time with each person. But my job is to do those things as much as possible in the short time I get with each person. if I don't, I do a disservice to the show and to every person in it.

Poor Shadows of Elysium: 2014 "Season"

We don't really have "seasons" per se, because we're all pretty busy with many projects, so we do shows as a company on more of an ad hoc basis. With that said, We're thrilled to announce that we'll be presenting William Shakespeare's Antony and Cleopatra at the Trinity Street Playhouse in April of 2014.

We're still working out a few details so we can't announce the venue yet, but sometime in late January or early February, I'm planning to direct John Lyly's Gallathea. I'm pretty excited about this show. It meets all of the requirements I was looking for in our next show: an early modern play, not by Shakespeare, that features several women in prominent roles. Since Lyly wrote for companies composed of boys, instead of adults, I guess he could have many more convincing ladies on stage than the adult troupes could. The play is in prose (for which Lyly was famous), which is another difference from the all-verse Richard II. The play also shows an early modern perspective on gender that I think modern audiences may find surprising.

By the way, I'm also playing Benedick in Much Ado, which opens in a few weeks. After that, I'll direct Cymbeline at the EmilyAnn. Then, I'll direct another show with an October/November run time. I can't say what it is yet - the company hasn't announced their season. I'll post it when I can.

The Deadly Theatre

I recently finished Peter Brook's The Empty Space. Mr. Brook is brilliant, and his insights are amazing. The text was written, I think, as a rant or thought experiment. As a practical text, I think it's not particularly useful. I couldn't help thinking that (as I was fist-pumping the air at some of the things he said), that many people who create what Brook refers to as "Deadly Theatre" would probably have the same reaction to the book, because their perception of their work is completely different.

A complaint I often have when I see a blockbuster action movie is that it looks like an excuse to string together a few action sequences. The fact that there is a much simpler solution to the problems set up in the film doesn't matter. Neither do story or character, for the most part. I've seen a lot of theatre that I think operates under a similar approach. People have schtick that they want to do as part of the play. Before long, the schtick devours the entire play. Somewhere along the line, what might have been funny once in rehearsal devours the entire show. The play ceases to be about the characters or the truth of the scene. It becomes about the gag. This reminds me of the scene from This Is Spinal Tap about the amps that go to eleven.  Marty DiBergi says, "Why don't you just make ten louder, and have THAT be the loudest?" I want to say to people, "Why don't you just make the PLAY funny? Make the situation written be the funny thing?"

I'm not one of those people that think Hamlet's advice to the players is a sacred acting treatise from Shakespeare to us. It's not intended that way. It's part of a play - it has context. Taking it out of context and holding it up as truth is risky. But that's a subject for another post. I don't mean to suggest that Hamlet's  advice doesn't contains some great stuff. It does. In a realistic theatre, holding the mirror up to nature is something to which we should all aspire. When making an acting choice, I think you should always ask yourself, "Is this true? Is what I'm doing motivated by the character, or am I doing this just because it'll get a laugh?" It has to come from inside the character, not from some meta-theatrical choice designed to provoke a reaction - unless you're approaching the text in a non-realistic way to begin with, which is something entirely different.

Taking this from a musical standpoint, when a student learns to play guitar, they will frequently learn a few licks - little phrases that commonly show up in blues. When the student starts to play a solo, they play these licks, and the licks sound good, because they're all in the right key. But they aren't music. They're building blocks, stuck together in sequence. You have to learn to stop playing licks and start playing melodies. Just my opinion, of course, but I feel like there are a lot of actors who just play licks.

Look for the truth, in the character, in the scene, and in the play. Keep in mind the BIG picture - the overall story you're telling. How does your character fit into that? You're a piece of a machine - one player on a team. Keep your focus on these things. That's my goal, and a piece of unsolicited advice.

What's next for Poor Shadows of Elysium

Our Richard II was successful, so we're looking forward to the next show. I want to pitch a non-Shakespeare early modern show with a strong female presence. I was hoping The Roaring Girl would fit the bill, but while I love parts of it, I'm not in love with the play as a whole. I've been reading Fletcher's Bonduca, but Bonduca and her two daughters, the only women in the play, die in Act IV. The Duchess of Malfi is a strong possibility, and I've ordered a copy of Fletcher's The Sea Voyage, which I am given to understand contains six or seven female roles - fighting Amazons.

Many plays left to consider, including Women Beware Women, The Changeling, A Chaste Maid in Cheapside... if anyone has any input, please reply here or on the poll on our Facebook page.

A review of Poor Shadows of Elysium's Richard II

"It's a virtuoso turn that stretches not only the principals but also the cast."

Me as Henry IV, Heath Thompson as Exton. "They love not poison that do poison need." Photo by Shawn McHorse.

Click through to the review.

Austin Live Theatre interviews Aaron Black and Kevin Gates about Richard II.

Guest blog post by Casey Weed, on playing Northumberland with two different Bolingbrokes and Richards.

Guest blogger, Casey Weed, writes about his experience playing Northumberland in our current production of Richard II. In our show, Aaron Black and I are each playing Richard and Bolingbroke, but which actor plays which part is determined by a coin-toss right before the show. Although the other actors are playing the same roles every night, they are playing those roles in two very different shows, as Casey's post explains. (Spoiler alert: Casey discusses our takes on the characters so far. If you're planning to see the show and want to be surprised by this, you might want to come back and read this after you see the show.)

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The same man is given two sets of circumstances- two significantly different relationships- and the same set of goals.  With a guaranty that the outcome is semantically the same- the script, after all, does not change- does the journey change?  To what degree?

Our experiment with two possible Bolingbrokes has been an intriguing one with these questions floating about like those paper-filled panty hose in an old high school haunted house; you know they are there, what they are isn't a mystery, and yet every time your head bumps into them they give you an awkward start.

After analyzing the text and making my discoveries about what Northumberland wants- I believe him to be the primogenitor of the entire usurpation plot, earliest in and by far the most active in moving things forward- I looked at the way the shapes and textures of the different Bolingbrokes and Richards mesh and grind together.

Kevin's Bolingbroke seems more designing with fewer ties to tradition and the Old Way... hungrier in an immediate sense for power.  A Northumberland with this Harry as his friend doesn't need to obfuscate or coddle; the crown can be a little bloody when we get it.  And we will get it, Harry... believe that.

When the coin falls the other way- with Aaron Black's more morally considerate Bolingbroke acting in the now and generally more surprised by how events are turning- Northumberland's mode has to be one that salves his conscience and yet spurs him through to do the terrible and great tasks before him.  The Earl seems to say to this Bolingbroke: "So sad that circumstances have forced us down this path but it is your duty to see them through, Your  Grace."

The different Richards?  Well, they are a factor, too, but as an obstacle rather than an ally it affects Northumberland to a lesser degree.  The scene at Berkely Castle where we make our first demands presents the most significant challenge: how does Northumberland's speech change Richard's mind so drastically and so abruptly?  It must be in the delivery, certainly, as there is nothing overt in the short and disingenuous speech to trigger such an East to West turn.

Northumberland. The king of heaven forbid our lord the king
Should so with civil and uncivil arms
Be rush'd upon! Thy thrice noble cousin
Harry Bolingbroke doth humbly kiss thy hand;
And by the honourable tomb he swears,
That stands upon your royal grandsire's bones,
And by the royalties of both your bloods,
Currents that spring from one most gracious head,
And by the buried hand of warlike Gaunt,
And by the worth and honour of himself,
Comprising all that may be sworn or said,
His coming hither hath no further scope
Than for his lineal royalties and to beg
Enfranchisement immediate on his knees:
Which on thy royal party granted once,
His glittering arms he will commend to rust,
His barbed steeds to stables, and his heart
To faithful service of your majesty.
This swears he, as he is a prince, is just;
And, as I am a gentleman, I credit him.

An acerbic and bitey, spitey Richard (Gates) requires a much more 'no nonsense', factual rebuttal that leaves the true meaning of the speech sitting like a cold tombstone on the stage with a dried dead rose laid upon it.  In contrast, the tool Northumberland uses on the pensive and moodier Black Richard has far more bark and threat in it to better snap him from his delusion- an image of an axe being sharpened and tested on an overripe melon, violently and hatefully.

The Earl is the same man no matter which way the coin falls: ambitious, perhaps even to the point of greed; protective of his own line; and a machinator of the first order.  Each relationship presents itself as a locked door requiring a different key but leading to the same room.