Not Your Mama's Puppet Show!

I saw Basil Twist's Petrushka yesterday. Let me start off by saying I loved it - in case there's any question. It was brilliant. However...

Whatever made them think this was for children? With puppets or people, Petrushka is a very dark story with unrequited love, blatant sensuality and murder. Fortunately, these elements seemed to go over the heads of the many children in the audience, so overwhelming was the spectacle.

Petrushka was actually only one of the pieces performed. Petrushka being a fairly short ballet and a couple of "curtain raisers" had been added featuring Twist's famous abstract puppetry.

The main problem is that during this, we didn't know when to applaud - a problem I always have in a classical music performance. And it was impossible to break the spell that was progressively taking us over. The flower and the abstract shapes (squares and rectangles initially, yielding to semi-circles were beautiful if somewhat remote. The third piece of music - or third movement, I couldn't tell which - my ear isn't that good - the puppets became folkloric rather than abstract. Elaborate Russian towers, bouquets that grouped together and flew apart and chickens seemed to lead us into fairytale Russia. There was also a glittering silver cloth that seemed to represent the wind. The overall tone was lighthearted with a couple of hints at the conflicts in Russia - the two sets of towers confronting each other from above and below, the chickens upside down, their necks dangling on their last pass across the stage.

The initial challenge was letting go of any expectations and simply surrendering to Twist's artistry. Once I stopped thinking "OK, when do we see the puppets?" and realized they were all puppets, that it was a total experience and I was being led from the abstract to the folkloric, the enchantment of the experience took me over.

By the time the three principle puppets appear, I was totally enraptured. Twist uses a technique based on classic Japanese Bunraku puppetry. The puppeteers - in teams of three - are onstage with the actors, in black velvet. There were flashes of the puppeteers' hands or arms but honestly, we didn't care. The magic had completely taken over any technical considerations.

One surprising element was that the puppeteer character was absent - the puppeteer that first isolates Petrushka and who first brings the Ballerina into his room and then removes her. The confrontation is mostly among the puppets themselves. The puppeteer is present only as a pair of disembodied giant hands. Powerful, yet impersonal. Petrushka is thus deprived of his enemy and the confrontation is between him and the Moor, his romantic rival and the Ballerina's clear preference. Petrushka's interruption of their pas de deux leads to a chase with a fair bit of abstract filler - necessary because not only is Stravinsky a bitch to work with for a choreographer, it was necessary to show the passage of time and distance. Twist also throws in a very scary bear dancing on a big red ball at this point, very Russian, very period.

Ultimately Petrushka pays for his jealousy with his life, the Moor's scimitar in his back. Then he appears, alive again, first above the proscenium, then along the House Right seats (right where I was sitting).

It was the perfect touch of magic that Petrushka bounced back to life.

It's Been Awhile...Catching Up...

This is embarrassing to admit, as I consider myself rather tech-savvy for a lay-person, but I got a Mac in August and, since everything's a little different on a Mac, I couldn't find my way back into my blog. But here I am, at long last, and a lot has changed.

I am now at Emerson, in grad school, and time flies when you're getting educated! It's been very refreshing, after 20+ years in the corporate world - where I was frequently told "You're not being paid to think!" to be with people who actually care what I think. It's a very different experience than college -- partly because college, much as I loved Sarah Lawrence, was largely to please my parents ("We're paying - you're getting the degree WE tell you to!" -- my mother has denied this conversation took place, but then again, she thinks Norman Rockwell was a photo-journalist). I had wanted to take a pure Theatre program; they wanted me to take Liberal Arts. They were paying, so I took Liberal Arts. With a focus in Theatre, I was able to slip that in fairly easily. And my transcript - which was not as bad as I thought it would be(having had to submit it for grad school, I thought I'd get a copy for myself), shows me to be a student who thought that anything that wasn't theatre was a waste of time. Still, I managed an average that was between B+ and A-.

But grad school is different - not just because I am choosing my focus, now I am a different kind of student. Before, I was easily intimidated and wouldn't speak up in class, even in the theatre classes. I felt a tremendous sense of scarcity about the opportunities in theatre at SLC. Now, I'm less passive, more entrepreneurial. Having done several Off-Off Broadway projects in New York, not much frightens me. I admit, I get twinges of fear in class discussions (will they think I'm stupid?) but that's just me and I no longer let it stop me. I used to want to be the best, now I want everyone to win. It's a different focus.

So...a lot has changed. I incorporated my business: Outspoken! Inc. on July 14th (Bastille Day!) and joined BNI, a networking organization. I started my grad program at Emerson in September and am writing my first term paper. Ever.

(Don't ask me how I managed this, I have no idea how, but I got through high school and college without ever writing a real paper. Yes, even at Sarah Lawrence. Oh, I wrote papers, but they were not very good or very structured.)

This one is different. I'm different. I'm not leaving it to the last minute for one thing- even though it's not due till December 15 or so, I'm already eight pages into it. And I'm willing to admit I need help - I've been to the school's Writing Center twice.

So for my Drama Theory class I'm up to my ears in O'Neill. For my Directing: Theory and Practice, I'm directing Beckett's Words & Music as my semester-end project. And I've had two coaching clients through BNI.

Also - saw Basil Twist's Petrushka but I'll write about that separately.

The Time Has Come...

...the Walrus said, to speak of many things...

Like grad school. Cabbages and kings would be a welcome diversion but it's time to be a grown up. A task I still find difficult even now, north of 40.

Since my acceptance to Emerson in March, right on the heels of the early application period closing (yes, I'm bragging) but it hasn't seemed quite real. Even when I sent in my confirmation and tuition deposit. It was a huge step toward my dream but I felt stalled afterward. September felt very far away.

Volunteering for Timon at ASP this spring was a welcome distraction and I was grateful to be around like-minded, Shakespeare-loving people. It was a healing change from NYC, where many fledgling actors regard the classics as the vegetables that have to be eaten before dessert. I've said this before - has anyone else besides me noticed how many Broadway shows are based on movies? How many are Disney movies? I know, I know, I've said this all before - and the Lion King, one of the most popular, is essentially a puppet show. In Boston, many shows are based on Shakespeare - Donkey Show, Sleep No More, Best of Both Worlds.

And of course, we have lots of actual Shakespeare.

Volunteering for ASP kept me sane in the limbo period between acceptance and starting school. The dialogs I got to particpate in on dissecting the text and character were bonuses that helped me get back into a seeking-spirit frame of mind. Seeing the play evolve over several weeks also reconfirmed my passion for directing. Then, in mid-June, it was over. I got an e-mail from the department head about registration and FAFSA refused me tuition help because of an existing BA (at least that's what their letter said). And my tuition bill came.

This kicked the school issue into high gear.

So, the timing of Timon was perfect, it kept me busy this spring so I didn't go crazy and gave me a structure and accountabilities. The information on FAFSA and tuition came literally on the heels of the project's end. Along with a sore throat that was followed by a stomach flu.

Metaphysically, it was almost humorous - a sore throat is generally triggered by a block about speaking up for oneself and the stomach flu was probably a reaction to the bill -- I couldn't "stomach" the information. The sore throat was gone by Monday night and the stomach flu hit me Tuesday afternoon. Sickness always hits me quickly and leaves me quickly, so I was fine in a couple of days. By Friday I felt not only human, but actually quite good and I went into Emerson to get some clarity on the tuition issue.

So I knew I had to speak up for myself and had to assimilate the information. The counselor I met with was incredibly patient and detail oriented. My file had been "tagged" for additional information (which might actually be good, it could be they are taking me seriously), gave me three additional forms to fill out, a fax number to submit them to and answered dozens upon dozens of questions.

The meeting was well over an hour and at the end of it, I knew that the tuition issue was getting straightened out and who to talk to for the next steps. It was further confirmation that Emerson was a good choice for me.

It was too beautiful a day, and after the meeting I felt too good to go underground to the train, so I walked over to the Public Gardens. The swan boats are running - I rode them a few weeks ago. I might have ridden them again but the line was too long, holiday influenced no doubt. A little girl was jumping up and down, shouting to her mother about the actual swan swimming alongside of a boat.

"Yes," I said to her mother, who told me they were visiting from Delaware, "we have swans here in Boston." This is proof right there that Boston is better than NYC.

In fact we have an enclosure fenced off, since the swans are nesting. I went over to look at the nest - there had been about six eggs last time I'd seen it. I found Mrs. Swan standing over it, pulling feathers out of her chest. She might have been building a layer of down to help incubate the eggs. Or she might have been stressed over college tuition for six.

Pacino's Mind...

One of my students from my freelance class lent me "Al Pacino in Conversation with Lawrence Grobel". I'm sure there are mixed feelings about Pacino's work - there's mixed feelings about any prominent artist; I happen to be a fan myself. I saw him onstage twice in Boston, first in the '73 Richard III - which was also my first encounter with live Shakespeare - at a church and then later (I think it was later, my inner timeline gets a little fuzzy) in Arturo Ui at the Charles.

Any fan would enjoy this book, but taking it even deeper, this book is a wonderful look inside the mind of a serious, working actor. I don't agree with everything he says -- I will never like the Strasberg Method (as I've said, I lean more toward Meisner and actual Stanislavski) but I accept that many people swear by it. I also agree that Strasberg himself was an excellent actor. However, I will point out that many people we consider Method actors had other strong influences -- Brando had Stella Adler, Pacino himself studied at HB and was mentored by Charlie Laughton (not Charles Laughton, different person altogether).

This is consistent with my belief that it takes many teachers to create a master.

What is so wonderful about this book is the peek inside Pacino's mind - hints of his process and his values. There are insights about his characters and what he looks for when he's constructing them, what he aims to pull out of himself. It's a good book for any serious acting student. He is clear about his choices, good and bad. You may not agree with everything he does or chooses, but it will lead you to think about your own process, it will lead you to choose.

Also, I love that he freely quotes Shakespeare in normal conversation, he's not afraid to let his brains or his passions show. By the end of the book, I felt as if I'd been in a master class for actors.

This is a book that requires more than one reading - like Pacino himself, it reveals itself progressively.

Timon's Other Hero

Between volunteering as Actor's Shakespeare Project and ushering, I've seen the show about four times. For any theatre student -- and I consider myself an eternal student -- this has been a great education. The show has evolved and deepened -- my last time there was Saturday. There is a level of trust and cohesion among the actors that has expanded tremendously.

I want to talk about a supporting character today, Alcebaides, the soldier. He evolves and grows as Timon declines. Timon abandons Athens -- Alcebaides conquers it. Timon, in his rage, calls for destruction and Alcebaides in his triumph brings justice.

It's gotten to the point with this play that it has me in its teeth and keeps chewing at me. It annoys the hell out of me but it won't let me go. Each viewing gives me new realizations. I don't agree with everything I see but since it all makes me think, I'd say the director and actors have done their job well.

Timon is a play that clearly highlights the lead actor and it's probably one of the most text-heavy plays Shakespeare ever wrote. The danger of a tour-de-force play is that the central character is frequently the only one fleshed out --look at Rostand's Cyrano de Bergerac for example. Cyrano is the only multi-dimensional character in the play - the other parts are more or less cardboard cutouts, woefully underwritten. Don't get me started on Roxane who only function is to be the unattainable romantic object! Even in the original French, it's a bitch of a part. I've seen about ten versions and only one actress - Anne Brochet, in the film - really brought the character to three dimensional life as an intelligent, willful and passionate woman. She, however, had the advantage of several non-verbal scenes. Sinead Cusack did very well - I saw her on stage in NYC in the 80s and she was the first Roxane who seemed to have a brain. So did Jennifer Garner in her Broadway debut but it's a badly written, disjointed part. For an educated, articulate woman, most of the time she - Roxane, not Garner - speaks in sentence fragments. As I said, don't get me started!

Timon on the other hand, fleshes out its other roles, which gives strong support to the lead. Flavius the steward, Apemantus the misanthope and Alcebiades the conqueror are all given depth and passion. This in turn brings out more nuance in Timon. It all works.

Timon is represented as a military leader and we first see Alcebaides as his servant/subordinate. From the beginning there is a deep affection bewteen them and a strong respect. They spar like puppies until Alcebaides gets in an unexpected jab that both winds and delights Timon, who is clearly mentoring him. They are at once mirrors for each other - both are betrayed by the corrupt government, both are enraged. They are also counterpoints - Alcebiades grows and advances as Timon progressively unravels. Alcebaides is activated while Timon self-destructs.

Alcebaides is played by Daniel Berger-Jones who is one of those actors that could, if he wanted to, simply coast by on his looks. However, as an artist, he has too much integrity. There is a depth to his work and a grasp of the character's inner life that he brings to this character. He has a tremendous attentiveness to the other characters - there is an alertness, a watchfulness toward them, especially in the scene where he is speaking on behalf of a condemned friend. His responses are mercurial, each giving way to the other, from earnest pleading to incredulity to rage. The court scene is both a personal disagreement bewteen the characters but also archetypal as a confrontation between idealistic youth and rigid, conservative rage At the end of the scene, as he cradles the body of his executed friend with unexpected gentleness, the first line of his monologue - "I'm worse than mad!" - escapes from him with a dangerous growl.

His biggest challenge is holding his own in his final meeting with Timon. I would say this is one of the hardest scenes, because it is very easy to lose the stage to Timon. But he an d Allyn Burrows play off each other with power, Berger-Jones holds his own. But the mock-sparring has turned to real conflict and we can see the injury that Timon's rejection causes him is more painful than the recent wound in his side. He plays the scene, he told me, as a final loss of an important father-figure, recognizing and grieving this loss but also grateful for what he has received.

In many ways, Timon of Athens is a play of extremes - from the lead character's extreme wealth to his fall to extreme poverty. From his overwhelming need to give to his ultimate need to reject. It is his symbolic son, Alcebaides that brings the healing. He does conquer Athens but instead of destroying it as Timon urged, he punishes only specific enemies. He is the new order, rational and balanced. In most mythologies the son comes into his own when the father dies. Loss of the father, either actual or symbolic loss, is part of a man's growth, of coming into his own destiny.

Timon Now On His Feet

The great thing about volunteering with a theatre company is you get a deeper look at their work than the average spectator. You go deeper into the text and make discoveries that you would miss by just seeing the show once. For a theatre student, this is invaluable.

Timon of Athens is now on his feet. That is, the play is on its feet, Timon himself falls apart during it.

It's really something to see the progression from running lines and hearing an actor's insights, to seeing the show on its feet. So far I've seen the dress rehearsal and ushered a preview performance and the show has developed in ways I couldn't have predicted. I've been chewing this text over and over -- for a play I didn' t initially like I now find it haunting me.

Once again I saw the importance of good casting -- each actor brought their part to life with nuance and elegance. This production seems to have more ensemble work than the others I've seen. The minor characters emerge from the ensemble and dissolve back again, with just touches of costuming to differentiate -- voice and body posture primarily signal the transformations. This gives a contemporary feeling to the show. At times it's like Shakespeare meets the Marx Brothers with the Three Stooges thrown in.

There's also an unintentional hommage to Buster Keaton at the end of Act One that triggers one of the most amazing scene changes I've ever seen in live theatre. I'm not one to go out "whistling the scenery" but I was impressed. And in a show as well done as this, it is not a reason to see the play, but it's a nice bonus.

John Kuntz, who was so brilliant as Peter Quince in Midsummer, was playing the poet, among other characters. He balances between mastery of the verse and total irreverence. He is clearly one of our sacred clowns, in his willingness to play he guides us into the text so we can understand it without being overwhelmed.

The tragedy of Timon is not that he loses his wealth, by this point I feel the core tragedy is he becomes incapable of recognizing the ones who truly love him. He loses his wealth, he finds new wealth. The money is not the point. And it illustrates one of my favorite prosperity points -- money comes from known and unknown sources. He finds enough of a fortune to restore his lifestyle -- and chooses not to. He seems to engage in a process of purification. He is harsh and unsparing in his hatred of the flattering courtiers who disappointed him. The three people who geniunely care for him show up - Captain Alcibaides, Apemantus and Flavius the steward (changed to a woman's role for this production) cannot break through his isolation. Flavius almost succeeds -- there is a genuine affection between the two. Timon appears to acknowledge it but ultimately sends her away. He gives her gold, which she rejects, throwing it back to him. He gives it to her again and she rejects it again.

Personally I think that's a mistake. I don't know whether it's the direction or the actress' choice. From the director's point of view (which is usually how I look at things) I honestly don't think that Flavius would/should reject the gold. I agree that she would put up an initial struggle. But the gold is ultimately a token of Timon's affection toward her and I would think she would accept it under those terms. She should accept it for Timon's sake, not out of greed. If nothing else, the wounded look on Timon's face should change her mind.

But nobody asked me.

It dawned on me -- it was not rejection, Timon is not about rejection, but purification. He is on the path of non-attachment. First he was at the effect of his wealth (his constant avoidance of Flavius' warnings shows that he never really mastered it) then at the effect of his bitterness. He suffers because he was attached to the wealth and flattery. Then, at the end, he is free - "Nothing brings me all things" -- he has attained an almost Zen attitude.

I was pre-disposed to enjoy Allyn Burrows' performance as Timon after all the work we'd put in. I thought - mistakenly - that it would hold few surprises. I had forgotten that the process of running lines is largely intellectual and a performance will take on a life of its own - especially with Shakespeare. It was a perfect counterpoint - the humorous, frequently manic ensemble provides a backdrop for Allyn's Timon to unravel against. And unravel he does -- from dignified affluence down to the depths of bitter madness. There are flashes of danger in his performance along with the Shakespearean attitude of joy through all emotions. Another lesson for me that acting is not about the words - even when the words are this important. That acting takes place through the words and in the silences.

The Italian for Window

Teaching Chekhov/Stanislavski at Brookline Adult Ed has forced me to revisit the works of both these men and I have tried to do so with "beginner's mind". I have found that Stanislavski has very little to do with "Method Acting" to the point where I consider "The Method" at worst a corruption and at best an entirely different technique. Method seems to go after emotions, grab them by the throat and shake them till they give over their secrets.

Stanislavski is more subtle -- focusing on one's tasks, on one's goals, the emotions are ignored until, like cats, they come to demand attention. I agree with his opinion that emotions and other elements of the psyche belong to the subconscious and cannot be controlled or forced. They must be wooed. I had a friend in college who was convinced that Chekhov was a comedy writer. There is a key moment in Chekhov's Three Sisters when Irina, the youngest, starts running around screaming "I've forgotten the Italian for window!"

"How can you take that seriously?" she asked me. I already had an issue with Three Sisters, finding the main characters rather whiney, and I readily agreed with her. Chekhov, played for laughs. I had no idea how to deal with this character, who seemed to enjoy a lot of advantages but somehow treated life like a huge crisis.

There was also my other, rather pompous friend who said with great authority, "It's not about three women who don't go to Moscow, it's about three women who fight like hell to get there."

He was quoting someone, I forget who. And I think he was mistaken about what the play means, but more on that later.

Returning to the texts after some distance has helped me understand them better. We are working with three of the plays: The Seagull, Three Sisters and Uncle Vanya. And, yes, we are doing the "I've forgotten the Italian" scene.

I understand now that my classmates were wrong -- Chekhov does not sit easily on one team or another. His works are neither deep tragedy or rollicking comedy. I think what makes them so modern, what makes them part of the foundation of modern theatre is their ambiguity. They are a series of truthful moments, some funny - some sad, like our lives. They can lead us to scorn or compassion depending on how we look at them. And, unlike Shakespeare where the characters tell the audience about themselves, these plays reveal themselves slowly. People speak indirectly and sometimes not very honestly.

Re-examining these plays I am amazed at their hold on us. I think initially a lot of us study these plays because we have to, a good theatre student knows Chekhov and Stanislavski. We frequently pretend to like them, privately wondering what makes them so great. We watch the productions with forced attention and then forget about them. I think it's because we don't really know how to study them. These plays reveal themselves slowly, you need to spend time with them. Working the scenes in class has given me a deeper perspective, as the students become more adept at creating the moment-to-moment reality of the characters. I see that what is written on the page is only a fraction of the communication between them.

For example, in one of our Uncle Vanya scenes, when Vanya took Yelena's hand, our Yelena said, "You're disgusting" - which was the line - and began to giggle. This was not indicated anywhere in the script but rang perfectly true. It revealed Yelena's ambiguity perfectly.

The most powerful lesson I've had about Chekhov was not in a theatre or classroom at all. I was working in the corporate world at the time, as a financial advisor and I was telling a colleague about a play I had worked on. I started to tell her that a character came on from "stage left" but was suddenly unsure which side stage left was. For the record, it is the actor's left, but in that moment I felt a sudden panic, a loss of what I'd always considered an intrinsic piece of information, a part of myself.

It was the same loss that drives Irina when she can't remember her Italian vocabulary. And in my own panic I suddenly understood her, understood her battle and her frustration. I suddenly knew I could direct the play, having had a gut-level understanding of it.

Looking at the play this year, it also revealed a new meaning to me, one that has nothing to do with Moscow. Yes, the sisters all whine about Moscow. But I think the truth of the play is in Irina when she talks about a sense of benediction she feels as she sits for her teacher's exam. And at the end of the play, when her fiance (who she didn't love anyway) is dead, she says,

"Tomorrow I shall go to the school and be a teacher. I will give my life to those who need it."

The core of the play is Irina finding her mission. Who cares if she makes it to Moscow?