creative theatre, or just messing with a good thing?

My nearby "professional" theatre just opened Scapin -- the classic Moliere comedy. I was really looking froward to seeing this production. I haven't read or seen this play since I performed a scene for my acting class back in college. I really like Moliere, and the lack of Moliere productions is a sad commentary on American theatre. So you can imagine how delighted I was to see a Moliere play on the Commonweal Theatre's play schedule.

And then I read a review this weekend.

It seems that they have gender-reversed some of the leading roles, and without even seeing it, I'm not too happy about this.

The amplifying gender stereotypes is part of what makes Moliere so much fun and funny.

Perhaps the theatre is trying to make a point that our gender roles aren't as clearly unique as we think. Perhaps they were stuck for males to fill the roles but had plenty of female talent. Perhaps they just wanted to be creative and give us a "new angle" on a piece of classic theatre. Perhaps it just bites.

Personally, I'm a little sick and tired of our "creative types" (and I use the term loosely and with much sarcasm) trying to find new ways to present classic theatre. Why? Is there something wrong with the classics as they are written?

Don't get me wrong. One of the things that I love most about theatre is that every script can be interpreted in a different way. But when the interpretation line is crossed over into rewriting, I think there's a problem. Changing the gender roles in a Moliere comedy is rewriting. Staging Shakespeare's A Midsummers Night Dream as if at a 1920's tennis camp, is rewriting (yes, I saw this production).

Part of my irritation is that so many of these classics have never been seen (or read) by most people. This production of Scapin might well be the only Moliere most people ever see. Is it equitable that we treat these people to something that is most definitely NOT Moliere, but call it so?

I will still go see it. But I'm now going in with some hesitation and even anger. They will have to work harder to win me over (and that's not fair to them or me).

I'll post my thoughts here when I've seen the production.

How do you feel about theatre taking great liberties with scripts?

Happy Memorial Day!

It is a beautiful day here in south-eastern Minnesota and I intend to be out on the porch, eating bratwurst and potato salad.

I hope everyone has a wonderful holiday.

film-making 101

I spent the last 48 hours (almost exclusively) editing a 30-minute video.

The video is of the one-act play that I directed at the local high school this past winter. It's titled Minnesota Loon, and is a socio-environmental play about a homeless woman trying to stop the corporate polluting in a local lake.

I video-taped the production three different nights, from three different locations in the house; down-loaded the videos to my computer; added some intro music and credits; and burned 20 copies for the kids involved.

It is a long, boring process at times, yet a lot of fun as well. It's as if it is just one more opportunity for me to be creative. I'd already staged the play to look good to an audience in the theatre, now I was "staging" it to look good while watching it on a computer or television screen.

The technology and availablity of software programs is so proliferent that it can offer amateur accessibility to just about any field one might desire.

For the record, I used Pinnacle Studio 8 movie maker. I picked up this un-opened version on eBay for under $10.

Will I ever become a professional film/video editor? No. But I don't have to, and I don't have to watch a boring, flat video of the play, and I don't have to pay a lot of money to have someone else create this video for me. Ten bucks and a little of my time...not bad.

congratulations

Congratulations to all the high school graduates in my town. The graduation ceremony is tomorrow, but the parties have already begun. This keeps my small town hopping.

blow me

I can't think of any piece of equipment that I like less than a leaf blower. Could anything better exemplify the typical American? Loud, obnoxious, serving no real purpose, the ultimate in lazy?

I swear that, pound for pound, the leaf blower is noisier than any other gas-powered or electric device. And for what? To scuttle bits of yard debris from one spot to another? And this works better than a broom because...?

This morning my walk from one building to another took me past a university student worker who was casually sweeping (what an ironic word) the loathsome machine from side to side, causing bits of freshly cut grass to dance about. Aside from the clamor of the blower distrubing what was otherwise a beautiful morning, it was obvious that this worker wasn't going to change her pattern of blowing and I had to change my route or risk becoming a magnet for grass clippings.

As much as I dislike the leaf blower, I think that people who use the damnable machines are equally despicable.

exploding toads

Sometimes nature can be so much more creative than mankind. Case in point...the Exploding Toads of Hamburg. Check out the link to the left, or copy and paste the following URL in your browser to read the story. (http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/7654561/?GT1=6428)

I find this story so incredibly fascinating on so many different levels, not least of which is: Why do crows prefer liver, and how do they know where to find it on a frog? I immediately thought of Prometheus and the large bird (sometimes a raven, sometimes a crow, sometimes an eagle) which feasted on the god's liver.

Exploding toads.

Liver-loving crows.

...

Nature is so cool.

reading

While a voracious reader, I dread the question, "What are you reading now?" It's never a simple answer, and I am always afraid that I will forget something on my list. That's right...my list.

I can't remember the last time that I only had one book on the nightstand. At the moment, I can think of five books that I am currently reading (and one book on CD for my commutes to and from work, and one book as e-text on my PDA).

My wife can't understand this. She can't imagine how I can possibly read so many at a time, and not get confused. And I suppose I don't know how to answer this. I don't know how, or why, I am able to do this. I just can. It's extremely rare (though I know it has happened) that I pick up a book and don't immediately know where I am in the story line. If we were in conversation right now, I could easily tell you where I am and what has happened up to the point that I have stopped, in each of the books I am reading.

On occassion a book will grab my attention so completely and utterly that I can't help but read it until it's finished, but that, too, is rare (perhaps sadly so).

Why so many books at one time? Another question that I'm not sure I can really answer. Variety? Greed? The ability to have a book within reach wherever I am? The fear that there are so many books to read and not enough time? ADD?

I will say that I must not be alone as a multi-book reader. I remember a few years ago clipping a Sunday cartoon from the paper to show my wife (was it Fox Trot or Baby Blues?) in which the father/husband was being teased in some way for multi-book reading.

I wonder if any blog readers might have more than one book in reading progress?

lettering

Last night was a party/awards ceremony for students in the high school drama club in my small town. As director of their competitive one-act play, I was there to hand out some of the awards.

I enjoy working with these kids. They want so much to have a strong drama club and they've pushed hard to increase from doing only one one-act play (with the three or four people who audition) to doing the one-act play, a full-length play, and a variety show. The drama club has twenty-four active members -- not bad for a school with a graduating class of only 68.

Part of their success has been their adult leader. Many of the kids don't care for their leader, and I have some issues with her actual abilities in theatre, but I admire her dedication and support of the kids. Because of her efforts at lobbying the school and creating an outline and plan, she has succeeding in establishing a point system for drama kids to earn a school "letter."

This may not seem like a big deal to you or me, many years removed from school, but I think it's long past time that many schools recognize the hard work and many hours that students put in to working in the arts.

Seven students received their drama-earned letter last night, and certainly many of the others saw that and will (hopefully) work a little harder next year to receive theirs

And the efforts of the drama club leader have already opened the door for including speech team members as well.

And the more students wearing the school jackets with an arts-earned letter will hopefully raise awareness of the value of arts in education, making it harder and harder for schools to cut arts programming.

radio

I like the radio. I am more apt to turn on a radio or a stereo than a television. This hasn't always been true, I admit, but the days when television was my companion have long since gone.

I worried for awhile that radio, good radio, was a dying medium. Perhaps I worried needlessly, as I realize now that so many people commute and often turn to radio for news and entertainment during their morning/evening drives.

At its best, radio evokes a sense of nostalgia for me. I have such fond memories of rainy nights in a cabin on a lake in late August, just before the start of a new school year. The scratchy sounds of a mystery (often The Shadow) on an AM station providing the story for nature's punctuation.

Then later in life were those late afternoons/early evenings hanging out with friends and calling in to chat with the DJ and make requests. My friend Kootch and I would often have a friendly contest to see which of us could "win" by being the certain numbered caller or correctly answering the most questions (I think Kootch won, but not by much).

A few years later and the radio was our companion as we "cruised" the town more nights than not. Driving just for the sake of getting out and hanging out.

I am glad to see that there is interest in the Pay-Per-Radio of the satellite radio stations. I won't go that route because I think it's laughable to pay for something that I can mostly find for free still, but if Big Business can make money in it, then it must still hold some popularity.

Even when I am at my computer I tend to listen to an on-line radio station. BBC 7 has some great entertainment programs (I've been enjoying the recreations of The Marx Brothers' FLYWHEEL, SHYSTER, AND FLYWHEEL series), and BBC 4 has such an incredible array of programming that it's hard to not find something to listen to (of course I particularly enjoy the plays in the afternoon). My other favorite, which is often playing even when I'm not sitting at the computer, is Live365.com. No matter what your taste in music or talk radio, you can find it at Live365.com. I've listened to it so much that I finally decided to become a paying member (high praise indeed from a tightwad such as myself).

I urge you to check them out. (No, I have no stake in their service what-so-ever.) It's easy. It's convenient. It's free.

a little too much retro

I was alone in my car, cruising through my home town. It was pretty quite, as the colleges were out and it was late on a Sunday night. I had the FM radio blaring and I was rockin' to some Steely Dan, Three Dog Night, Chicago, Rolling Stones, Queen, and War. I was planning to catch a movie. I couldn't decide between The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy, or the new Star Wars. At the movie theatre, there was a commercial for the new Herbie, the Love Bug movie from Disney.

But this wasn't the 1970's. This was last night. I'm probably thirty pounds heavier, now I can grow a beard, the FM radio station considers its music "classic rock," and I'm a husband and a dad.

At first, I rather enjoyed the retrospective of my youth, but as I started to see more and more of the past I began to feel like Dorian Gray gone wrong -- I was getting older while the world around me wasn't changing.

What is it about Baby Boomers that we won't, or don't want to, let go of our youth?

old people like to act, too

One of the publishers of my plays has a very nice website which allows anyone to view where and when any particular play in their catalog has been (or will be) produced. I think that this is a great idea because it allows schools to make sure they won't be competing against other schools with the same play. (Yes, my publisher caters primarily to the educational market.)

I like to check in periodically to see who is doing my plays. I'm often quite surprised by the places that have decided to produce my plays. Among my favorites are a correctional facility and a school for the deaf. (I wish I had known about the school for the deaf BEFORE they performed as they were within driving distance and I would have loved to see how they handled some of the issues -- and it is because I missed this that I check on my scripts more regularly now.)

But one of the most recent listings is a Senior Citizen's Home in South Dakota.

A Senior Citizen's Home?

Why not? It never would have occurred to me but when I think about it, it's a great idea, and of course the script they chose is perfect. It's short and clever and funny and has fantastic characters that are perfect for senior citizens. Just because someone is "old" and in a "home" doesn't mean they have no spark. Those who have been interested in the arts don't give up that interest just because they get old -- gads, I hope not! This is yet another outlet that I never would have considered, but certainly shouldn't be ignored.

By the way, you can check out my publisher's website by clicking the link here, or over on the left of this page. http://www.histage.com

beautiful dance

I attended the opening performance of iPaquita Paella!, a dance concert, last night. This is the concert for which I am listed as sound designer. As it turns out, a crew person didn't show up, and I stepped in to help backstage. I love hanging around the backstage of a theatre. I feel very at home on a stage.

As I watched the Corps de Ballet from the wings, I was impressed with the grace and beauty that these young ladies displayed. And while I admit that I've never been a big ballet fan, I think that I enjoyed the ballet portion of the show (Act I) much more than the modern portion (Act II).

But what struck me the most as I watched from backstage, was the dichotomy of these girls. On-stage they were elegant and beautiful. Backstage, they would stretch in some of the most non-glamorous ways. "Squatting in the woods" is the expression that comes to mind.

I've seen these girls stretch and warm-up before -- I work in the building where they take classes and rehearse -- but I don't think I'd ever seen the combination of their warm-up routine and the dance at the same time as I did last night. It reminds me that we all have our 'backstage' -- that portion we keep unseen from the public while we attempt to present our best, our beautiful dance.

the colors in life are all part of a crayola 64 pack

I referred to something this morning as being "burnt umber" in color. I clarified that as "well, burnt umber as I remember it from my box of 64 crayons."

And I realize that all the colors that I might identify come from that cool, flip-top box of 64 crayons, with the sharpener on the back, and an assortment of great names -- Lemon Yellow, Raw Sienna, Burnt Umber, Periwinkle, etc. My favorite color was "Midnight Blue" -- in part because it taught me that there is rarely an absolute black in the world around me. My least favorite was "Salmon." (Did Crayola shape my dislike for seafood?) I also really liked Gold, Silver, and Copper. There was something quite special about having crayons that had a sparkle to them. Of course the children today need those special, extra sparkly, glow in the dark, wipe-off, neon crayons to feel special.

I wonder just how many mega-corporations have shaped our lives in ways that we might not realize unless we give it some serious thought.

writing opportunities

I love the internet, but it can be a tremendous drain on my time and energy. It's so easy to sit and surf, that I don't always accomplish what I set out to do.

One of the tremendous advantages to the internet is the ability to find new sources and resources for writers. I am able to have news of new markets and the needs of familiar markets, delivered to my email in-box. How gloriously convenient! I don't know if it has hurt sales of books such as The Writers Market, but I certainly have stopped shelling out money for information that I not only get for free, but I don't even have to search for it myself.

This comes to mind as I read today of a new market for fiction and poetry. The quarterly magazine is called A Public Space, and it is to be edited by Brigid Hughes, the former editor of The Paris Review.

This is exciting because it seems that the current trend, in today's world of blogs, is toward a non-fiction, essay-type writing. A magazine which bucks the trend and returns to fiction and poetry, and which has the ear-marks of a high quality publication, is news worthy of a little fist-pumping, "yes," response.

Harlem Globetrotters

On one of my local PBS stations last night was a one hour special on the Harlem Globetrotters. This comes just a month or so after my children and I attended our third Globetrotters "game" in the last three years.

I think that the Globetrotters, under new ownership, are making a comeback in their popularity. When I first became familiar with them, their popularity may have been at their peak, thanks in large part to their Hanna-Barbera cartoon series (remember "Granny" and their dog "Dribbles"?).

I still have some grainy, black and white photos of "Geese" Ausbie in the gym of our local university when they played there in 1973. I find it both amusing, and comforting, that I can match up those old B&W pics with my newer, color, digital photos and get the same poses and comedy scenes.

One of the closing comments in last night's documentary referred to the fact that the Globetrotters are still tossing buckets of confetti on the crowd and teasing the ref with the same jokes and taking a purse from a nearby audience member and playing the game with it hanging on a player's arm. And that's part of the Globetrotter's charm. We'd be disappointed if they DIDN'T do those things. We'd feel cheated if they tried to "modernize" their humor.

Maybe their magical ball-handling doesn't seem as impressive now because so many NBA players are doing the same amazing things, but combine their skill with the humor, and you still have a really fun event.

What impresses me now, as a father taking my children to the games, is the accessibility of the Globetrotters. After each of the games we've been to, there has been a half hour autographing session. We have signed shirts, balls, duffel bags, and programs in our house, and each is a prized memento for my children. And what my children are seeing, and learning, is that even these professionals are making time for the kids ... that the kids are important. How accessible are the NBA players? (I took one of my sons to a Minnesota Timberwolves game as part of a Cub Scout event -- after the game, all Cub Scouts were invited to come to the floor to shoot one free throw. As the scouts were all seated in one section, one of the Timberwolves players walked on to the floor to do a radio interview. Certainly I would never expect him to come over and sign 500 autographs, but would it have hurt him to turn and acknowledge [even with just a smile and a wave] the cheering group of boys?)

And while my kids still think of these events as going to a basketball game, I applaud what the Globetrotters have managed to, which is to combine a popular sport with a theatrical show. It's part sport, part vaudeville, part circus. It is unique.

Yes, I'm still a bit of a Harlem Globetrotter fan, and I'm very glad their popularity is on the rise again.

short story lover discovery

I am like my six-year-old son, whom I have been watching at night as he splits open a new book for the first time and carefully, slowly, reads each word. I can see in his eyes the excitement of his own self-discovery of this brand new world opening up to him. This world of reading and of books. He is proud and he is happy, and he is eager for more. As I sat with last night I saw the future and the past in him, in the present. I saw myself as a child discovering the magic of words and pictures, and I saw my son as a teenager, voraciously reaching for more books to digest.

I felt that same sort of excitement at a new discovery as I paged through the electronic files of MobyLives. Each new article tickled me a little more, and then I read a guest column by Steve Almond about why he liked the short story (http://www.mobylives.com/Almond_story_lover.html), and I knew that I was nodding and bouncing in my seat. "Yes, yes! That's PRECISELY how I feel!"

I have never been shy about announcing that I prefer the art of short fiction more than any other. (Both short stories and short dramas.) I've always felt it was the purest form of fiction. But Almond nails it right on the head with his eight points.

My favorite is #5.

finding Moby

I'm not the swiftest person in the world, I'd be the first to admit it, but I hang around some pretty swift people, and sometimes a little something will rub off.

Today I discovered the website MobyLives. It's a great little place dedicated to "news and commentary about books and writers." I'd heard of it, but had never checked it out before today. Today I went to read just one article that had sparked my interest, and I found myself clicking link after link to read more and different articles. I liked it. I liked reading what some of these authors had to say, and the way that they wrote it. Let's face it. Sometimes writers get a little caught up in their own affectations -- putting on airs with their vocabulary. What I read at MobyLives came across as pretty straight-forward, honest writing. I'll be checking their site periodically, and you can too by clicking on the link to the left.

One of the articles that I read was a short piece by Larry Baker, author of The Flamingo Rising. I'd read an advanced copy of that book and, quite honestly, was under-whelmed by it (though I remember it well enough to be able to talk about it at a party if it came up in conversation). As I'd not seen his name since I'd read the book, I was curious as to what he was writing about in a "small" web site. His article details his struggles to sell his second and third novels, one which he himself believes to be a much better book. Despite six-figure advances and movie rights on his first novel, he can't seem to get an audience with a major publisher and he even parts company with is agent

He doesn't give up, however, and his solutions are creative and his results are mildly interesting. He's not getting six figure advances, but he is getting published and his work is selling.

What this says to me is that the dedicated, passionate author will find a way. As the major publishing houses continue to buy and sell each other, becoming one giant, Mega-Pub Books with many imprints, there are still MANY smaller presses looking to make a name for themselves in the market.

There are white whales out there, but for many writers, it might not be the Great White -- old, imposing, and threatening -- it might be a baby Beluga -- young, trusting, and still maturing.

reaching my peak

According to a study, reported by the BBC, a novel writer reaches his/her peak at age 50. This is good news. Now I know why I haven't written the Great American Novel yet.

The study makes good sense. We learn a little something from each work we produce. We improve ourselves.

Unlike professional athletes, whose bodies just simply can't take the stress after a certain (younger) age, writer's minds continue to fire those synaptic bursts, keeping their (our?) professional attributes not only active, but improving.

You can check out the BBC article yourself by clicking the "BBC Optimum Writers Age" link to the left.

all about the fans

For good or ill, the "final" Star Wars film will be coming out soon. Will I see it? Of course I will. The magic that the first movie held over me is still present, but so is the disappointment I felt over the most recent flicks in the Star Wars saga. (Am I the only one who remembers reading an interview with Lucas back in the 1970's where he stated that his ultimate goal was a trilogy of trilogies and the first three movies were the middle portion?)

What amazes me the most about a franchise such as Star Wars, and Star Trek as well, is the devotion and passion of its fan base. Yes, we know that these fans can be extreme in their fanaticism, but I'm impressed by the way some of them devote their time, and money, to express their appreciation for these movies and television programs.

MSNBC recently did a short news spot about one such fan and his film, Star Wars: Revelations. That spot was replayed on MSN.com (which is where I happened to see it).

It seems that this one fan spent $20,000 to produce his own, 40 minute Star Wars film, with the story-line that he imagined would (or should) be taking place next. Amateur special effects artists from around the world worked on creating the FX, and would send their results via email. Amazing.

But even more amazing, to me, is that when I went in search of this film, I discovered that there is a whole world out there of fan-made films (Star Wars and Star Trek are the most popular, but there are Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Dr. Who and Hulk fan films as well).

Part of me wants to say that this is an incredible waste of time and money, but is it? These people, who might have 'regular' jobs in education, business, or work as policemen and EMTs, are expressing, not only their devotion to a novie or show, but their creativity as well. Yeah, the scripts are generally pretty cheesy, and the acting no better, but I give these people a lot of credit for their efforts. For some, it's a learning experience and may result in a career in entertainment. For others it's a fun way to spend their "off" hours.

Maybe I'm impressed because I know that if I were younger, I'd be making fan films. I remember all too well my days with my 8mm film camera (not even Super 8!), trying to make my friend Kootch look like he was a flying superhero.

If you're interested in these fan films, check out the fanfilm link to the left.

family

Aren't families interesting? Is there such a thing as a family that isn't dysfunctional in some way or other?

I think about my family today, on this, my father's 82nd birthday.

We've been trying to plan a get-together to celebrate, and my sister insisted that we hold the party at her place, but she couldn't decide what day was best. Of course there are many things going on as the school year comes to an end, and we needed to make plans, but she just never let us know until two days ago. Jeez, thanks.

As my family gets together for one celebration or another, I know that if I weren't related to these people, I would have nothing else in common with them, and I certainly wouldn't seek to celebrate with them. Will my children think the same thing in twenty years?

++++++++++++++

Last night, my daughter, out of the blue, says, "I'm glad you're my dad."

A father could not ask for higher praise.

the project I should be doing now

I'm supposed to be writing now. Not here, in this blog, but on a different project. And I'm avoiding it.

Gads!, but I hate holding papers in my hands, knowing that I'm suppose to fill those papers with my words. And of course I love it, too. What a great feeling of satisfaction when it's done, but until then...?

To make it worse, it's a project (a play) that I wrote some four or five years ago and which may be on the schedule for a theatre on the West Coast next year. The 'catch' is that they want a few changes.

They are absolutely right, now that I look back at that script. What they want is totally reasonable, and will only serve to make the script stronger. But I don't live with those characters any more. They were a part of me when I was writing the initial script, and they were with me as I made numerous re-writes. But we've gone our separate ways since then. How do I know what Billy should say? Or how Ivy and Rose should react? I'm just not that close to them anymore.

But it'll come back to me. I'll read and reread and reread the script some more, trying to remember just who each character is. And talking and writing about them is part of my process.

But until I can make that leap where I can issue words from their mouths, I fear the pages waiting for me.

Bug Me Not

Have you ever gone to read an article at some magazine or newspaper's web site and they want you to "register" but you really don't want to?

Then you want to go to BUG ME NOT dot com (the link is there to the left). Just type in the URL of the article you want to read, and they will supply you with a login and password.

make me come to your show -- I dare ya!

There was an interesting article in The Guardian yesterday (see link to the left) defending live theatre (live events in general), which got me to thinking....

I'm a staunch defender of the arts. I've made the arts my career, my passion, and my hobby, and yet I have to admit that it can sometimes take great effort to get me to go out to a live arts event. See a play? I'd rather watch my latest Netflix rental. Get to a concert? Nah...there's a new Steely Dan cd that I can download at half price next week. Go to a gallery? Not right now, I'm in the middle of a good book. Why? Why is it that me, a devotee of all things 'art' has trouble getting motivated to go out?

Cost plays a major factor, of course. Watching DVDs at home is much less expensive than heading out to a live event, even when comparing only the cost of an event alone. Add the usual dinner before-hand, and the obligatory drinks afterward, and the cost of an evening out begins to sky-rocket. And for those of us with children still too young to stay home alone, the price of a baby-sitter often nudges the evening in to the "too much" category.

Still, there is more to it. I think about a small, "professional" theatre twenty minutes from my home. They have been around for some time and are in the process of expanding -- building a new stage. They have a nice reputation, and yet I've only seen three productions in the last three years (one which I was paid to see and review, one in which I worked on as a substitute stage manager, and A Christmas Carol (which I took my son's Cub Scout troup to see)). And I know precisely why I haven't been there more often.

They haven't done anything that I want to see.

There are so many options available for people that to get my butt in a theatre seat, I need to WANT to be there. As a live event promoter, you need to MAKE me want to get away from the dirt-cheap comfort of my La-Z-Boy and the Netflix rental. How do you do that? Boy, if I had the answer to that I could command any salary I choose.

I happen to know that my tastes in theatre are different from the "common" man. I'd pay almost anything to see some Pinter or Ionesco. I wish that more theatres would re-discover some of the great comedies of the Greeks, and the often-forgotten Romans. And where is Moliere? Shakespeare you can find with abundance, but I don't happen to enjoy watching Shakespeare interpreted as modern television fare (oh God, I can just see it now...Law & Order: Shakespeare Stories).

I guess I just don't want to spend my hard-earned money and my too-little recreation time exploring an unknown quantity. What is that show? Is it any good? Who's performing? What style is it in?

There is also, for me, the "one-eyed-God" issue. You've likely heard the expression that in the kingdom of the blind, a one-eyed man is God. I feel that so much of today's theatre is "good," that none stand out as exceptional.

Where is the "one-eyed man" of theatre?

+ + + + + +

Congratulations to Theatre Jeune Lune of Minneapolis for winning the Regional Theatre Tony Award. I haven't been to a play in the Twin Cities area in nearly two decades, but I suspect that this is a sign that there are cylopean deities in the theatre world.

point of reference

Highlighting the news lately is the story of the two girls, ages nine and ten, who were stabbed to death in a park in a community just north of Chicago.

For much of my life I would have been angered by the news, but to be honest, I would never have given it much more thought once I'd heard it. I couldn't understand how people could get worked up over the news, albeit incredibly sad. I didn't understand why people would get so feverishly angry, so hostile, so passionate in their hatred and loathing.

I didn't understand because I didn't have a point of reference.

I have a nine year old daughter.

I know, right here, right now, not in some distant memory or second hand through other families, how nine year old girls dream and laugh and play and fight and cry and laugh some more, and talk about boys, and I can look at my daughter and see another little girl, so much like my daughter, I'm certain of it, and this other little girl-like-my-daughter laughs and dreams and cries and fights and talks about boys no more because of the most villainous, heinous, evil on the planet.

And yes, because I now have a point of reference, I am passionate in my anger and my tears for two little girls whom I never met and likely would never have met even had they lived.

Perhaps there is the slightest solace for me in the fact that it appears that the devil incarnate who ripped the lives from these girls was the father of one of them. This is solace for me, a father, because it would mean that it wasn't some random killing by some freak who chooses his victims randomly.

By the same token however, it is even more unconscionable that a man could do something like this to his own child.

I attended my children's elementary school concert this afternoon, and as I smiled the biggest smiles ever at my daughter (who smiled hugely back to me), I was of mixed emotions. I was proud and incredibly happy for my children, but I also wondered if there was a concert somewhere, much the same as that which I was enjoying, that was now missing two beautiful little girls.

playing with music

I've admitted that I cannot compose music, though it's a passion of mine to do so. Instead, I play with music.

Without seeming too eager, I volunteered to put together the sound for a dance concert. Yesterday I met with the choreographers and we listened to the music they had chosen, and talked about where they wanted the songs cut, how they should fade in and out, and in some cases, bits and pieces spliced together to form a shorter piece. It was this last part that was euphoric for me.

With some tremendous, FREE software, I was able to pick a song apart and rearrange the composition so that it still flowed, flawlessly from note to note, beat to beat, and still with a (now new) musical subtext. I even managed to lengthen the final note of my new creation, to give the dancers a half second more to finish their final leap.

Is this not musical composition? No, I suppose it is more a musical 're-creation.' A Frankensteining of sound. At its worst, I suppose it is a perversion of someone else's work of art. At it's best it's ... what? ... a unique work, not quite mine, and not quite that of the original composer.

But what the hell...I had fun and the choreographer absolutely loved hearing the song that she'd been envisioning all along.

the music within

In a recent conversation with some friends, someone asked what we would do differently with our lives if we could do it over again. It was actually an easy question for me, as nearly every day I ache over the fact that I don't know how to go about composing music.

I am filled with music. Some of this is released in my writing, some of it in my impromptu dancing (which embarasses my daughter no end), but much more still wants to be released, intact, as music ... and I don't know how to do it. I can read music, and I can write music, but just as putting words on paper doesn't make one a 'writer,' writing music doesn't make one a composer.

How I wish I had stuck with those piano lessons that I quit back in fourth grade! How I wish I had paid more attention to my jazz compositions class in college! How I wish that I had taken music more seriously so as to be able to release the sounds inside of me.

I have this vision of my death ... my body will split open and some of the most beautiful music ever heard will come floating out, along with little animated warm-fuzzies akin to The Beatles' YELLOW SUBMARINE.

Until then, I continue to try, every day, to create music in whatever way that I can.

Necking

I'm not even awake this morning, when my son touches my shoulder and says, "Dad? I think my neck grew during the night. It feels bigger. And I think maybe it's twisting around. This bump here? I used to feel it over here."

The nerd who likes birds

If, twenty years ago, you had told me that I'd be one of those nerdy, geeky, bird watchers, I'd have laughed at you. Maybe even slugged you for insulting me. But gosh darn it, I am one now. Of course I know why...my parents were bird watchers -- my father, at 81, still gets out and hikes through the hills with camera, binoculars, and spotting scope gear. Of course this ties back to an earlier post ... a person can grow up to appreciate something if exposed to it as a child.

So today I am standing at the sliding glass door, looking out over my yard as my children slurp down their breakfasts (breakfast is usually an interesting time in our house as the meal is often peppered with comments such as: "I know why the Indians don't like us very much" and "Did you know that some dinosaurs were only as big as our cat? Maybe Ice [the cat] is like our own dinosaur"), and I am giddy with excitement. "Guys, come here!" I say. I ask one of them to fetch my binoculars, and another to get mom. There is a pair of bluebirds going in and out of the bluebird house that we put up three weeks ago. Bluebirds. That's exciting to a bird nerd! What's more, the bluebirds are fending off a group of tree swallows who had been poking around the box for the last week.

Then, as I'm watching the aerial display, a bright orange and black oriole swoops in to my porch railing. He's looking for the cup of jelly that he feasted on last season. It is the first oriole of the season. Last year we had as many as ten at one time, eating jelly like pre-schoolers on a field trip.

Okay, so I'm a bit of a nerd ... I can identify a bunch of different birds, and know something of their habitats and eating preferences. I'm still not as much a bird nerd as my brother -- that guy's nuts.

My friend 'K'

I have to admit that I've been nudged into this blog by my friend 'K.' K is a pal from my high school days. He's probably one of the smartest people I know, easily one of the most talented, and a hell of a nice guy. We don't see each other much these days ... we each have our own lives ... but if there's any writing to be read, I always want K to look at what I've done, and I always look forward to what he's written. Well, K, has his own blog ('Unprintable Version'), AND he is editing an on-line, printable magazine (Printable Version). This is great news because now I (and YOU) can check up on him daily. See the list of links to the left.

Now K didn't directly ask that I start a blog, I may not even tell him I'm doing this, but he had made an offer to a bunch of us (his old high school cronies) to get a group blog. It would cost a little more on his cool, pay-for blog site, but he was willing to do so if there was interest. Not surprisingly, there was very little committment from the gang. Most of that group could be described, at best, as 'content' -- happy with the way things are. At worst, they might be described as 'under-achievers' -- not looking ahead to something new or living up to their potential.

I'd rather be like K. I'd rather stretch myself, push myself into new things. Blogging is new. It's also slightly dangerous -- it's like writing a journal except that it's open to anyone -- and there's a slight exhibitionist/voyeuristic thrill to that.

Since I titled this particular blog after my friend K, let me say just a few more nice words about him: he's got a great laugh, he's read and commented on everything I've written and sent to him (even when it was complete and utter crap), he's a lot of fun to have at a poker game, and he's the kind of friend who would be at your doorstep if you called him up and said, "I'm moving and need some help" -- even if you haven't seen him in many years.

Now go read some of his stuff. The guy is good.

Kids, Theatre, and the NY Daily News

I read an interesting article in the NEW YORK DAILY NEWS today (see link on the left side of this page) about children heading to the Broadway theatres to catch shows like the new import CHITTY CHITTY BANG BANG (yes, a stage version of that classic film). I was particularly struck by the last line of the article:

"If you go as a child, you go as an adult," says Bernstein. "Our research shows it. It's the circle of Broadway life."

Research? Has someone actually spent time and money to research this? It would seem to me to be common sense. Children aren't going to grow up to enjoy something (such as theatre), if they've never been exposed to it. And that brings me to my next thought... Why aren't we exposing our children to more art? Why is it that the arts are the first thing to be cut from school curriculum when budgets are cut, and why are we cutting budgets from our schools in the first place? Does no one but me realize that we CAN control our future by the education we offer to our children?

I understand that very few children will grow up to have a career in the arts, even those who've been exposed to it, but what promising Picasso or future Shakespeare are we denying by not offering them art?

I've lived my dream -- I've worked on Broadway and Off-Broadway. I've written and published several plays, one of which has been translated and is sold in Europe. I've worked in and written for film and television. And I can trace it all back to seeing theatre as a child. Our schools took field trips to see children's theatre, and my parents took me to shows as well. Obviously it struck a very profound chord within me.

Yes, "if you go as a child, you go as an adult." This should be posted on every law-maker's, every politian's, every educator's, and every school board member's stationary. What we do today will be reflected in our children tomorrow, so let's stop denying them art.

Scary stuff this blogging

Scary stuff this blogging. So many decisions to make before I even begin, and at each template I wonder, "Is this me? What does this say about me?"

I much prefer pen and paper -- grab the nearest college-ruled notebook or legal pad, a black-ink ball-point pen, and off I go. But...this seems to be the thing to do these days. 'Haven't got a blog? Guess you're nobody.'

I have to ask myself one main question -- what do I hope to accomplish with a blog? Mainly, to keep myself writing. I hope to reflect, remark, and reason with anyone who disagrees with me (hard to imagine, since I have all the answers). Only time will tell how well I keep up with this.