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Monthly Archives: August 2011

Jerry Rapier: Warning: wordy, lengthy and a bit of a rant

Jerry Rapier

Jerry Rapier

All summer I’ve asked actors to share their feelings about their most memorable Plan-B role on this blog. Earlier this summer I (finally) completed my MFA in Directing at the University of Idaho (something I started back in 1998 at Utah State University). One of my assignments was to share my theatrical aesthetic. So, in the spirit of what I asked 9 actors to do, I thought I’d share this with you. Warning: it’s, um, wordy and lengthy and, at times, a bit of a rant.

I grew up along the Arizona/New Mexico border, 80 miles north of Mexico. We lived 10 miles from the nearest town – Duncan, Arizona: population 700. My upbringing was about as rural and remote as one’s can be, with absolutely no exposure to theatre.

At the age of 15, I represented my high school at a weeklong youth leadership retreat in Washington, D.C. We met with congressmen, toured the landmarks of the city and even ate lunch at the Saudi Arabian embassy which, to this day, still doesn’t make sense to me. We also saw CATS at the National Theatre. (I know, I know. But keep in mind it was 1986 and the phenomenon was still fresh.) Having never seen a professional theatre production, I was hooked. By the end of the performance, somehow I knew I wanted to be involved in the theatre. And I didn’t even know what that meant.

I (mostly) shelved the idea until I graduated. But occasionally I would draw little diagrams of a small theatre with 101 seats so that I could call it Theatre 101. I didn’t have any idea what that meant – I didn’t understand anything about theatre. I graduated from high school a year early and, at the age of 17, spent the first semester of college figuring the whole thing out. By my second semester I’d stumbled into my first role in a play, which also happened to be a new play (I played John the Beloved in MAN OF KERIOTH, a play written and directed by Khigh Dheigh, best known as Wofat on HAWAII 5-0). Years later, early in our relationship, my partner Kirt and I would lie in bed and dream up theatre companies.

I have worked full time in the theatre since 1999, beginning with two seasons with Egyptian Theatre Company in Park City. I am now in my 12th season as Producing Director of Plan-B Theatre Company. In many ways my career has already exceeded my expectations – I sometimes wake up flabbergasted that my job is to develop and produce new plays.

I eat, sleep and breathe theatre. Sometimes to my detriment. For better or worse, Plan-B is, in many ways, my identity. I don’t have to hypothesize, “If I ran a theatre company, I’d do X.” I am in the unique position of being able to put my aesthetic into practice. I do “X” every day. I am fully aware how fortunate I am to be able to make a living in the theatre. So I feel a great responsibility to honor those who support my work and the work of Plan-B by creating the best work possible.

All the choices I make as a director are based on one simple idea: Theatre should create conversation. It should be the beginning of an experience, not the end of one.

AUDIENCE
I fully subscribe to Peter Brook’s ideal that the theatre is a holy place – one that deserves respect, even reverence. That is not to say the work cannot be irreverent or disrespectful – but the space itself and the process of filling that space must be given proper due.

The connection between the audience and the production in a darkened theatre matters most to me. This intangible yet palpable connection can only emerge if those onstage, those who have placed them there, those who’ve designed the onstage world and the members of the audience are able to give themselves over to one another.

This is not an endorsement for pandering to or indulging the audience. Rather, it is a declaration that when ego is left out of the equation and all those involved are focused on the power of shared experience, theatre is at its best.

I do not advocate presenting work to the audience. I do, however, advocate inviting them to fully participate in the theatrical experience – not necessarily call and response and certainly not what we think of most often as audience participation: more energetic, intellectual, emotional. So…I strive with each production to create an inviting onstage world. If the work is done properly to make everything onstage appear effortless, the audience may actually be able to truly lose itself within that world. Participation.

I encourage every company of actors I work with to avoid reading reviews until the production has closed. At Plan-B, it is company policy. There is nothing more damaging to a production than an actor anticipating a moment that has been singled out – good or bad.

THE SCRIPT
I never work on a piece I don’t fully believe in. I am not a playwright so I have to believe – and respect – that everything I need is in the text. That’s not to say that I love everything equally from the onset. I can, however, say that I have never directed a production I didn’t love. How else can I lead my team and cast to their best work if I don’t believe that the piece can give them the opportunity for just that?

CASTING
I look for the balance between skill and personality when casting. No matter how skilled an actor may be, if he/she is difficult to work with and/or unable to see his/her place within the whole of the play and how to support the other actors, I cannot work with that actor.

I look for the balance between ‘getting the play’ and being able to bring it to life. Intellectual understanding and emotional connection don’t always translate to a compelling, onstage presence. All three are vital.

Above all, I look for the actor who understands that their work is simply a part of the whole. In my experience, the actor for whom active listening is second nature is the actor who can do the best work.

PREP
I find I need at least 6 months with a script – preferably a year – to get it right. That doesn’t mean I work on it exclusively or even consistently during that time. It simply means I have read it multiple times, have a sense of it and can let it bounce around in my brain for good long while. Until I see it. That way I can truly guide both the design team and cast into a cohesive, grounded interpretation of the play. Because, after all, the play’s the thing – without it, the theatre is nothing.

REHEARSAL
I firmly believe that rehearsal is not a place to learn the play. Rather, it is the place to ensure that the work the actors and I have done individually – outside of rehearsal – coalesces into a unified whole. We don’t search for answers – we explore how the answers we’ve armed ourselves with do or don’t fit together. Rehearsal is about the marriage of ideas, not their initial discovery. The real work only takes place when everyone brings something to the table.

MY AESTHETIC
My focus is always on the ensemble, the whole. The individual journey, the individual performance, the individual choice – each only matters in the context of the whole.

I believe actors should make use of personal experiences, feelings, points-of-view and attitudes to create rich, compelling performances. With a couple of caveats:

Acting is not real life.

Theatre is not real life.

Therefore the actor must always be in control.

I believe in simple productions focused on language and ideas.

I believe that all theatre must contain the Aristotelian elements of theme, plot, character, spectacle and language. But beyond that, playwrights have the right – and obligation – to make their own rules. And the rest of us are obligated to learn and follow them.

I believe that too many people believe artistry and craft are the same thing. I believe that too many people forget that culture – and thus the theatre – only survives if both it and its audience are continuously cultivated.

A DYING ART
The theatre has been characterized as a dying art form since the regional theatre movement began 40+ years ago. Truthfully, I believe some theatre should die. Most theatre I see is crap – a bad imitation of itself. Museum theatre. Rarely do I feel passion coming at me from the stage. That’s not only heartbreaking, it pisses me off. It’s offensive. That kind of theatre should die. Passionless, derivative, museum theatre should die.

Sometime since the advent of the regional theatre movement the word ‘community’ became an anathema when linked to ‘theatre.’ Sometimes rightfully so – but not always. It is possible to link ‘community’ and ‘theatre’ in relation to professional theatre. A particular power – and I believe the future of the art form – rests in community-based, professional theatre.

I fully embrace Jerzy Grotowksi’s ideal that the size and scale of production and audience do not determine the quality of the work. Small can be great. And as illuminated by the book “Outrageous Fortune: The Life and Times of the New American Play,” small theatres – budgets of less that $250,000, average seating capacity of 100 or less – are where the overwhelming majority of new play development is taking place in this country. And small theatres tend to be more rooted in their communities.

In place of dead, passionless, derivative, museum theatre I want theatre that overwhelms me with its passion, vision and vitality. I want more theatre that is so specific that it feels as though it’s speaking directly to me. I want more theatre that generates long conversations about more than production elements.

I want more theatre worthy of being staged and shared in a holy space.

Too many people running theaters in this country are scared of truly committing to the work of playwrights, not just specific plays. Without a commitment to playwrights, the great plays cannot come. The museum wins. And they are possible. But the playwright has to have a place of safety in order to develop as a writer, to be able to see his/her plays in production, not just in a reading or workshop. Not enough theaters do a good enough job providing this safe space.

Of course, companies need to remain afloat so that there are stages on which these plays can be seen. We cannot ignore the business side of theatre. So we must artfully run it. We cannot let business dictate art.

It’s not enough to produce theatre, to reinterpret what’s been previously staged. It’s important to actually create it. Otherwise the museum wins.

We in the theatre must give people reason to leave their electronics-laden homes. We must embrace the future without forgetting the past. We must continually assess our vitality. How do we do that? By developing a stronger sense of community as artists. By approaching each production with zeal and passion. By honoring – and not underestimating – the audience. By taking risks. And we must work together to ensure our survival.

Please click here for information on Plan-B’s 2011/12 season, featuring three world premieres by Utah playwrights!

Eric Samuelsen: welcome to A DOLL HOUSE

Eric Samuelsen

Eric Samuelsen

Eric Samuelsen’s plays MIASMA, AMERIGO and BORDERLANDS have received their world premieres at Plan-B. His translation of Henrik Ibsen’s A DOLL HOUSE kicks off Plan-B’s 2011/12 Script-In-Hand Series on Sunday, August 28 in partnership with the American Civil Liberties Union of Utah and the Planned Parenthood Association of Utah.

A DOLL HOUSE examines gender roles, social constraints and the power of secrets through the seemingly happy marriage of Nora and Torvald Helmer.

People frequently ask me what’s involved in translating a play. Well, the goal is to render as closely as possible a text in one language into another language.

But that’s trickier than it sounds. An example:

In the play, Nora admits to her friends that sometimes she wants to say ‘fy fanden’ to Torvald. In Norwegian, ‘fanden’ means ‘the devil.’ So what she’s saying is ‘I want to say to him ‘go to the devil.’ Except that isn’t really something insulting we say in English. What she’s really saying is ‘I want to swear at him, I want to insult him, I want to shock him.’ English is rich in words of invective – we have lots more swear words than they have. Norwegians really just have ‘fanden.’ So to translate the sense of what Nora is saying, I have to come up with something equally shocking and inappropriate in English. But this is also Nora we’re talking about. Which word would she use? What I came up with is ‘Torvald, you’re an asshole.’ That seems to me about right.

I call the play A DOLL HOUSE instead of the traditional A DOLL’S HOUSE. It’s a more accurate translation of the Norwegian title ET DUKKEHJEM. When we buy our kids a house for them to use to play with dolls, we call it ‘a doll house’ – Norwegian children play with ‘a dukkehjem.’

Nora is Torvald’s doll, in a doll house, that is not her own.

All 501 free tickets have been reserved for A DOLL HOUSE so no seats are available. But…you can vote for Eric’s play BORDERLANDS, nominated for three 2011City Weekly Arty Awards: BEST LOCAL PRODUCTION, BEST ORIGINAL PLAY and BEST THEATRE PERFORMANCE (Kirt Bateman) - click here to cast your online ballot by midnight on September 1! And learn more about Plan-B’s 2011/12 season here.

Kirt Bateman’s most memorable Plan-B role

Kirt Bateman as Dr. Cantway | Photo credit: Rick Pollock

Kirt Bateman as Dr. Cantway | Photo credit: Rick Pollock

Kirt Bateman has appeared in Plan-B’s Script-In-Hand Series (including DEAR GEORGE: LETTERS TO THE PRESIDENT, THE NORMAL HEART and THE LARAMIE PROJECT: TEN YEARS LATER), A PERFECT GANESH, THE LARAMIE PROJECT, THE WAR OF THE WORLDS, ANIMAL FARM, AMERIKA (also Toronto’s Fringe Festival), EXPOSED, GUTENBERG! THE MUSICAL! (twice), DI ESPERIENZA, AMERIGO and BORDERLANDS; directed TRAGEDY: A TRAGEDY and participated in several BANNEDs and every SLAM.

I’ve been putting off writing this blog entry for weeks, actually months. Not because I haven’t wanted to write it, but because I’ve had the hardest time deciding which of my Plan-B Theatre roles has meant the most to me.

For the last decade, Plan-B has been home. Every experience has become an important thread in the oddly-shaped, color-incomplete, frayed fabric that is my life (I love a good fabric analogy, don’t you?). But the one that has meant the most to me personally was one of the very first, THE LARAMIE PROJECT.

It’s hard to describe why it was so meaningful. Do I think it was my BEST acting work? No. Was it the most FUN? Not compared to, say, GUTENBERG! THE MUSCAL! Was it the most challenging role I’ve had? No, that would be ANIMAL FARM. Was it the hottest…literally? Yes! Did I sweat the most in that one? Mmmm…probably not (again, that goes to GUTENBERG).

Let me ‘splain. Even just a decade ago, life for the lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender (LGBT) citizens of this country was a lot different (I speak in general terms and really from my experience and point-of-view). LARAMIE ran in July/August of 2001, right before 9/11, and although we had reached the new millennium, growing up gay in a conservative environment could be a life-or-death situation (both physically and emotionally).

THE LARAMIE PROJECT tells one town’s story as both Laramie and its residents are thrown into the media spotlight following the horrific beating and murder of Matthew Shepard.

Wyoming and Utah are brothers (or sisters) in many ways. I lived in Salt Lake at the time of Matthew Shepard’s death, and my partner Jerry (as of three weeks ago, my husband – see, a lot changes in 10 years!) was commuting to graduate school in Logan. Laramie and Logan are incredibly similar and the beating and death of young Matthew made me look around every corner and feel the need to call Jerry every hour to make sure he was safe. It was a frightening time for us. It was also a time of great compassion, with people from different walks of life coming together to show the best of human nature as the media focused on the worst.

I’m not debating whether Matthew’s murder was a simple robbery gone wrong (as the perpetrators claim) or a hate crime against Matthew just because he was gay in a small western town (as THE LARAMIE PROJECT posits) or maybe a combination of both. What I know is that the play is funny and emotional and devastating and cathartic and beautiful. It has become one of the most produced plays in the world, with several college productions here in Utah. But Plan-B was the first theatre in the world to stage the play (besides Tectonic Theatre, the creators). Being new to Plan-B, I had no idea what kind of production we’d have in the end.

I’ve had the opportunity since THE LARAMIE PROJECT to play actual, still-living people. But LARAMIE was my first such experience. In fact, Jedadiah Schultz, who remains a close friend (and one of the witnesses at our recent wedding) came to Salt Lake from Laramie to play himself…Jed from Laramie playing the character of Jed Schultz from Laramie, Wyoming. His presence constantly reminded all involved to ‘get it right’ – to work harder than maybe we ever had before because we were playing real people who were sharing their actual experiences with the audience through us. Healing happened in us and in the audience.

One of my dozen or so characters was the doctor who announced to the world that Matthew had died from the injuries he sustained in the attack…I tear up just thinking about it more than 10 years later. What an incredible opportunity I had to ‘be’ this person for just a moment in what was an extraordinary moment of his life. And be part of an important and vital and current and educational piece of theatre. It’s not often that you feel that what you are doing is vital and has a life of its own. The cast (me, Jed, Colleen Baum, Anita Booher, Cheryl Cluff, Joyce Cohen, Charles Lynn Frost, Carl Nelson), was the internal organs. The theatre was the skin that held us together. Moises Kaufman and Tectonic Theatre Project, the playwrights, were the brain. And Jerry, our director, was the heart.

This part is cheesy. But I can’t help it.

I still get teased by my LARAMIE castmates because I used to break the 4th wall (a big no-no) and would sometimes stare at the audience during performances. I’ve often wondered why I would do that. I think, after writing this and remembering the love circling the theatre during that production, I just had to see people watch the show. I had to watch them watching because their emotional journey filled me with hope and love.

I’ve told this story before – many times, in fact – but it bears repeating here. After the closing performance of THE LARAMIE PROJECT, we were crying (some of us (me) ridiculously hard) as we exited the stage for the last time. We got down into our little green room and hugged each other in a big, loving group hug. We knew that we had participated in something special. Joyce said “It doesn’t always happen like this. It doesn’t always feel like this.” (I paraphrase.). After many, many years working in the professional theatre Joyce really knew what she was talking about. We cried and hugged and we knew it was special. And it was. I was changed forever.

Joyce was right, it doesn’t always feel like that. But when I am working for Plan-B Theatre Company something about the experience is ALWAYS amazing.

THE LARAMIE PROJECT was my introduction to what good theatre (and I’m talking about the experience beyond well-reviewed, or well-attended, or well-awarded) FEELS like! It’s amazing. It’s why I am a theatre geek. It’s why I work for Plan-B. And it’s why I am beyond grateful that they let me.

Kirt Bateman as Dave O'Malley - photo credit Rick Pollock

Kirt Bateman as Dave O'Malley - photo credit Rick Pollock

6 of the 8 members of Plan-B’s 2001 cast of THE LARAMIE PROJECT performed the world preview staged reading of THE LARAMIE PROJECT: TEN YEARS LATER in 2009 (pictured above), which happened to be the very week that the federal hates crimes law, dubbed the Matthew Shepard Act, was enacted.

Learn more about our upcoming 2011/12 season here!

 

Teresa Sanderson’s Most Memorable Plan-B Role

Teresa Sanderson | Photo credit: Rick Pollock

Teresa Sanderson | Photo credit: Rick Pollock

Teresa Sanderson has appeared in Plan-B’s Script-In-Hand Series, a slew of SLAMs, all but one RADIO HOUR, STAGE DIRECTIONS, ANIMAL FARM, TRAGEDY: A TRAGEDY, THE ALIENATION EFFEKT, EXPOSED, DI ESPERIENZA and MESA VERDE.

Pick my most memorable Plan-B role? I’m not sure how to do that. Each one has been a rich and rewarding experience. It is sort of like picking a favorite child. My history with Plan-B is long. I have made life long friends, and feel lucky to be part of the Plan-B family. There’s ANIMAL FARM (my kids’ favorite) and TRAGEDY: A TRAGEDY (my husband’s favorite).

I guess if I have to pick, I am going to have to say Mary Dickson’s EXPOSED, about the impact of nuclear testing on our state and our nation. To be part of telling Mary’s personal story, thousands of people’s story, as it turns out, was a great honor.

It is a huge responsibility to play real people on stage. In EXPOSED I was excited and intimidated all at the same time. I knew that all of the characters that I played were going to see the show at one point or another.

Now I can really relate to the fact the we were an easy target. Patriotic people who are used to following what our leaders said. I am a very patriotic person, brought up to respect authority. Both of my parents were public servants. My father an authority figure. I did what he said and never ask why. Our government told us we would be safe, and we believed them. I can imagine myself on test days sitting in a lawn chair, “safety” glasses on, watching the blast, writing my name in the ash, like so many kids in Southern Utah did. We were all “exposed” here along the Wasatch Front. From St. George to… well, fallout was reported in pockets all over the United States.
Monday, August 8, 2011

My husband Barry grew up in Roy, Utah, in nice neighborhood with an inordinate number of cancer deaths. When you look at the map of where the fallout went on test days, Roy is covered. Barry has lost over 20 neighbors, including his aunt and uncle (who lived next door to his family) and his own mother to cancer. If we made a map like Irma Thomas did in St. George, all but two house on the block were affected with multiple cancer deaths.

I have lived a relatively charmed life. Yes I have know great loss. I have watched helplessly as the people I love have suffered. But nothing like Michelle Thomas, Elizabeth Catalan, Darlene Phillips – all women I portrayed in EXPOSED – live with everyday of their lives. I can relate to their fight these women. What I can’t imagine is living in that kind of pain, all day, every day. Dealing with the anger, the betrayal.

When opening night of EXPOSED arrived. It was hard to miss Michelle’s wheelchair in the front row. Darlene was in the house as well. The other characters I played all saw the show at one point or another during the run. I think they were all satisfied with my work, and more importantly, they were thrilled to have their stories told.

A year after the first run of the show closed we toured Utah. EXPOSED was very well received in Moab. We had a lively post-show discussion. The anger in the theatre was palpable. Moab is still in the process of cleaning up uranium tailings in their own community.

But in St. George, there was NO audience. We basically did a matinee so my mom could see the show. There were maybe 15 people in the audience. After the post show discussion, a young man approached us and said he was born and raised in St George. He had lost several family members to cancer and other illnesses attributed to testing. He had never heard even a whisper of this story. He was outraged. An activist was born that day.

We ended each performance of the run and the tour with the reading of a list of names that have lost their lives to to testing. After each performance people in the audience gave us new names as they left the theatre and we added them to the next performance. My cousin’s husband is on the list, Barry’s aunt and uncle and his mom were added to the list. And so was Jerry’s mother.

I will never forget one patron discussing the play with me months after seeing the show. She actually said, “Well it was a very one-sided view. Our government would never put its citizens in danger like that.” A cold chill ran up my spine. I went home, sat down and wrote letters to my representatives. There will be no more testing in my lifetime, without me speaking out.

April Fossen’s Most Memorable Plan-B Role

April Fossen has appeared in Plan-B’s Script-In-Hand Series, a slew of SLAMs, MIASMA, SHE WAS MY BROTHER and MESA VERDE.

It’s difficult for me to write about playing the role of Tabitha in MESA VERDE by Matthew Ivan Bennett, because writing about it makes me realize that the role was (and clearly still is) too close. Playing Tabitha was powerful and all-encompassing and I had to force myself to leave her behind when the show closed so I could get on with the business of life. I lived inside Tabitha’s mind and emotional world for almost 5 years and as incredible of an experience as it was, I wouldn’t recommend it to anybody. I’m a big proponent of actors keeping a safe distance from their characters. I don’t believe in “method” acting and I try not to take characters home with me. I think the work belongs in the space and real life belongs everywhere else. But sometimes, there is so much of a character in you and so much of you in a character that the separation becomes impossible.

I don’t know that I can describe how I feel I’m like Tabitha, or how she’s like me. There’s the obvious; I’m stubborn, I’d rather joke about something than have a deep discussion, I have in turns loved and hated my sisters, I can be distant if you push too hard… But that’s not the meat of it. The meat is something I can only describe by saying I FEEL her. Which is so touch-feely-actor-y it makes me squirm to even write it. But here’s the thing: that’s not enough. “Feeling” doesn’t mean anything on stage, it’s not something you can communicate. It’s just background noise going on in the actor’s head. And it can easily make a performance indulgent. Which is why I’m so thankful we had a smart and level-headed director like Cheryl Cluff. Only Cheryl could stand in a room with 3 women who brought a lot to the rehearsal…a lot of experience, a lot of pain, a lot of feelings, a lot of love…and tell them “no crying.” That we had to put all of that in our back pockets and just tell the story. And she was right. Which isn’t to say there was no crying in the rehearsal room. There was plenty. And after rehearsal on the drive home. And in the shower in the morning. Because I couldn’t help but connect the dots. Between Tabitha and my brother who has been fighting cancer for almost 3 years. Between Tabitha’s illness and my own female problems. Between Tabitha watching her mother battle illness and my own children watching me struggle with unexplained pain and bleeding. The connections were just there. And I allowed myself to feel them. I let everything come to the surface so I knew it was there, then squashed it all down so it wouldn’t get in the way. And now, when I try to write about it, months after closing the show, it all comes back again.

I realize all of this makes it sound like a horrible experience. Which is exactly the opposite of what it was. Over the course of those 5 years I gained 2 loving sisters, 2 dear mothers, 2 beloved directors, and a trusted playwright friend. I gained a different perspective about the world, about illness and death, about pain and intimacy. And I learned so much about the things that connect us all, those mysterious threads that draw us towards people and experiences that will change us. I feel so privileged to have been part of the development of this beautiful new play. So privileged to have been given the opportunity to see this role through from its conception in SLAM to a full production. So privileged to have been let into the life of this character and the incredible woman who was the inspiration for her. Tabitha is more than just a memorable role for me. She has been a huge part of my life and she will always be with me.