Today, I return to Edinburgh to take part in the world's largest theatre festival. In fact, it's the third largest event in the world, with only the Olympics and World Cup being bigger.
Fucking crazy.
These things never seem real, or how you expect them to feel.
Not like how you see it in the movies.
It's actually better.
Long ago, I'd picture some moment in my life that would change it all. That point where the music would swell, I'd suddenly be at one with the world, and everyone would love me and my family would be healthy and all would be well.
And I suppose, in one sense, I've had that moment.
Many times.
But I still haven't unlocked the secrets of the universe.
I still haven't woken up remembering how to fly like I can in my dreams.
I still can't make it all make sense.
But I do get to wake up.
Be alive in this world.
Get to have nights the the night I met Lisa.
The day I learned my first play got into the New York Fringe.
Opening night of East of Eden.
Doing a show in Edinburgh Fringe.
I am so lucky.
So.
Off to Denver International Airport. Long flight. Land Tuesday morning at 11-ish. First tech rehearsal for our Press Launch. Basically, 20 shows get selected to present 2 minutes of their show to the world's theatre press. Places like The Guardian, The Telegraph, BBC, and so on. A huge opportunity to strut our stuff and hopefully entice some critics to come.
We already have 6 lined up.
No pressure.
I will write more on this, but it is time to fly.
Literally.
Wish us luck.
And magic.
And wonder.
If you want to see more about our show and maybe kick in a few bucks towards coffee and haggis, go here:
I got snippy with a librarian last night. Shouldn't have.
Sometimes, I get offended easily.
This was one of those occasions.
I was at the Evergreen Library for a first read through of Spongebob Squarepants the Musical, which I am directing for the upcoming StageDoor High School Production. (you can get info if you click HERE)
We were a loud group.
Not surprising, as it was me, the stage manager, music director, choreographer, and twenty high schoolers on a rainy night, stuffed into a little room in a tiny library in a miniscule town called Evergreen that sits in the Rockies a little above Red Rocks.
We had the room until 8pm, when the library closed. We read the play. We listened to the songs. We laughed, asked questions, answered questions, and began the process of putting a show together, which is one of my favorite things to do in the world.
We were at this library, far from our theatre which is over in Conifer, another little mountain town, because the theatre is opening The Importance of Being Earnest next week and was busy rehearsing.
By the end of the night, I was feeling good. Cast was great, kids even better, creative team that rare mix of talented people who are also good friends.
The clock ticked.
The hour to leave came.
I sent the young thespians off into the night, and headed out with my Stage Manager.
And this kind of insane looking woman popped her head in the room and in rather strident tones proclaimed "Eight O'Clock! The Library is closed!".
This was to a room with only me and my stage manager in it, hands full of books, already heading for the door.
I thought to myself, "poor woman, she's clearly mad."
After her rather dramatic pronouncement, she was gone, and we continued towards the front door.
This was around 8:02.
As we stepped into the hallway, the same woman, who had managed to grow more frantic, was now down the hall, away from the front door. As we walked away from her, she called after us "Eight O'Clock! The Library is closed!"
Same tone. Same urgency.
I thought to myself, "This must be the only place she can come close to controlling in her life."
We got to the door.
It was now the ungodly hour of 8:03.
I turned to the Keeper of the Hours, who was now walking up the hallway towards us, with a smile plastered on her face that I imagine the Zodiac Killer wore when preying on his victims.
I had to pee.
So I asked her-- and I now realize this was a mistake-- if she would mind if I used the rest room on the way out. There were a few other librarians, going about their business, stacking books, putting things away, and clearly there were duties to be done after we left anyway.
The Mad Harpy of Evergreen smiled wider somehow, and in my mind, I swear her eyes bugged out like Large Marge in Pee Wee's Big Adventure, and in the same tone that was a bizarre mix of Mary Poppins and a Rottweiler, she intoned, yet again, "Eight O'Clock! The Library is closed!"
She walked swiftly towards us as she repeated her mantra.
So, I did my best impression of her, smiled widely and I hope with a tinge of madness, said "You can just tell me no!"
It was not my best reply, but I had had enough.
And then I self righteously marched out.
I hate getting mad like that.
But sometimes, it happens. People act unkindly. Rudely even.
And I get angry, try to be pithy, and usually end up sounding just at ridiculous as the person I bark at.
Ah well.
Such is life.
Here's today's song. I was introduced to this song by a former student of mine, the great Jacob Wolfe. It's Everyone Else is an Asshole, by Reel Big Fish. Enjoy, and try to avoid deranged librarians. If you should be unfortunate enough to come across one, don't lower yourself to their level. Definitely not worth it.
Had a torrent of dreams last night. And most of them involved the theatre. No too surprising, seeing as I've spent most my life in and around theatre. In one, I was watching a production of You Can't Take It with You at a theatre somewhere in California. It was opening night, and an old friend was playing Grandpa. Well, Grandma, as I had switched the sex for this actor. As I was watching the show, I realized I had not set curtain call. In another dream, or another part of that dream, or another dimension/reality that I was seeing, I was casting a play with all these young people in it. Also not surprising as I direct a lot of plays with and for young people. This group was high school age, and the auditions were long. Afterwards, it was time to cast the show. There were about five of us making the decision. We decided on some local rehearsal studio to go do the casting, instead of staying at the theatre, and everyone went to put their headphones on for some reason. Mine got mixed up with the sound designer, who was part of the casting process for reasons unknown but felt totally normally in the context of the dream. I really needed my headphones, and was about to freak out, when we figured it out. And then I went to this apartment near the appointed place, started going over my notes, and met a friend not involved in the casting, and we discussed the song Time by Tom Waits. And that was that. And there were other dreams, too. Sometimes, I wake up and feel like I've returned from a ten year journey through strange lands.
I had a thought yesterday that maybe my dreams fuzziness of late were trying to tell me to write about something other than dreams on this blog. And last night's deluge of dreams seems to back that up. We are living in such a strange time. And in a way, I've been trying to normalize it, to make it palatable. This blog has become the same thing every day. Dream, thoughts on dream, brief commentary on the world, song. I think that is all fine and good, and structure is awesome, but I do think I also have to acknowledge the crazy, which I feel like I haven't done enough of.
I don't think many of us have. I drove by Wash Park yesterday because for the first time in over a
week, I had to go get some supplies. And the park was full of people. I'd say 80% of the folks there weren't wearing masks. People were jogging, riding bikes, acting like it was a usual day off. And it pissed me off. I get the desire and need to be outside, to be near other people. I feel that need keenly, everyday. But suck it up, people. It's been all of a couple of months. Makes me rethink how awful it would be to serve time in a prison. Used to be, if I read about someone getting a couple of years for some crime, I'd think "wow, pretty easy sentence." Clearly, being locked up isn't as easy as I thought. For the most part, just being under this national version of house arrest is more than most of us can handle. And that's crazy. People who claim they want to make America great again can't make the slightest sacrifice in our country's time of need. If they want to make America great, they have to be great themselves. Whining about taking measures that seem to be working in slowing the spread of a deadly disease doesn't seem great. It seems entitled, childish, and foolish.
And complaining about the New Walking Dead feels a bit redundant as well. Not that I won't continue to do so. There is too much at stake to let things slide. I don't want to open up at the cost of people dying. I don't want to lose the post office. I don't want to see us relax the rules that keep our air and water only partially awful. I don't want to ignore science. I just don't want talking about what is going on to become routine, something I do to pass the time.
I want to continue to ask the big questions these times demands. What happens when we die? What happens when we live? Why has it taken a globe pandemic for some of us to realize how badly we have been treating this miracle of a planet that we live on? What have we been doing with our lives? What is truly important? How much can we withstand?
Here's one thing I always felt to be true, that these times have validated for me: Love, Forgiveness, and Acceptance are the only way to get through this world.
Another dream with Trump in it. Aside from the obvious reason that he is the so-called leader of the quarantined world, I think he was in my dream because in some ways he reminds me of my stepfather. In the dream, I was working at a summer theatre school, a place that did both full shows, but also taught classes to young people. It was all at a campus of some junior college, and we were getting ready for our first show. I was directing, and Trump was in the show. And he was not doing a good job. He kept showing up late, forgetting lines, and harassing the other actors, telling them they weren't any good, giving them notes on their performances, and so on. This kind of thing can happen at a theatre camp, so it wasn't too surprising. What was a drag was that I was told that I couldn't replace him, which is the normal thing to do once you have tried all other options with an actor. In the dream, if he left the show, something terrible would happen. It wasn't said what that would be, but we all knew it would be horrific and a large scale. So we were all at the mercy of this bad actor with an attitude problem. We were rehearsing a scene, and Trump kept breaking character to complain about things: the script; the other actors; the set. Blame was something he handed out like candy to everyone but himself. Over a three hour rehearsal, we didn't get further than two pages of script because of him. And the worst part was that, when he would yell out "cut" or "hold", we would all have to sit there and act like what he was doing and saying was perfectly appropriate and helpful, as opposed to a waste of time that was hurting the show. This is where he reminded me of life with my stepfather, who had a big drinking problem. When you are the child of an alcoholic, you learn quickly how to read a persons mood, to watch every facial expression, hang on every word. I have heard many times that people who grew up in alcoholic households, as well as theatre people, are the best natural lie detectors, because in both instances you are a keen observer of human behavior. So I'm a double threat in that department. Anyway, Trump was going on about how he was a great actor but the script was making him look bad, how the other actors were terrible, and how he refused to wear his costume because it made him look fat. And then rehearsal was over. A lot of the cast went to get a bite to eat and talk about the show. I joined them. And that's when one of the young ladies on the stage crew told me that Trump had tried to force himself on her. And I realized that I was working with not just an egotist man-child, but a socio-path. There was no way to continue, and we would all have to suffer some terrible fate because of this guy.
What are we going to do now? We are all doing the best we can to create happy lives, meaningful experiences to fill our hearts and souls with joy, and along comes this gigantic, planet sized threat, and we are stuck with a weak-willed bad actor who can't memorize his lines, blames everyone else for his short comings, and insults the people who are trying to make things work, making their jobs more difficult. And it feels like we are only at the start of rehearsals, that point where nobody is quite sure if this was the right show to do, if the casting makes any sense, or if the director is sane. But we have all signed our contracts, and all the other shows in town have been cast and crewed, so we are stuck and will have to muddle through somehow.
The good thing about being in a show that is rough, is that it can make for some of the strongest friendships you will ever have. When you are in a show, you depend one hundred percent on every person you are working with, from front of house to make up to lights to costumes to props to stage crew to creative team to playwright to actor. Even if you can't stand a person, when you are on stage, you have to work together, or go down in flames. And I think we are going through something akin to that now. We are all trying to work together while facing the impossible. And this time will bond us as we move forward. I can see a time when those of us alive now will sit around family meals and start to talk about the days of the Corona Virus, and the young will roll their eyes and think "here they go again".
Well, time to lower the curtain on today's entry, as I have classes to teach, a long walk to take, and a script to work on.
Here's a song. It is, of course, Saturday Night by the Bay City Rollers.
When I was fourteen years old, I saw a show that changed my life. It was called Man of La Mancha, and it was magic and tragic and transporting. I am not sure exactly what all the factors were that made me decide to pursue a career in theatre, but that production was a huge part of that decision. So it was with great excitement and anticipation that I headed to Colorado Springs to see the Fine Arts Center's current production. I demand perfection when it comes to Man of La Mancha, and have come to expect perfection when going to the FAC. I am happy to report, I got what I wanted.
This show is a treat, from start to finish, at once hard-hitting in its portrayal of a prison during the Spanish Inquisition while at the same time whimsical and charming in the telling of Don Quixote. This is a play about hope in the face of absolute despair, of finding the courage to be true to your ideals, regardless of your situation- a fitting theme for the world we find ourselves in of late. I don't want to bother you with going over the plot. Suffice to say, it is a play-within-a-play where Cervantes finds himself thrown into jail during the Inquisition and while awaiting judgement, is given a kangaroo court trial by his fellow inmates. For his defense, Cervantes offers up his great tale of Don Quixote, famed dreamer and tilter of windmills. As the story unfolds, the inmates get swept up into the tale, taking on various roles as needed. If you want the basic plot of the show, go HERE.
The direction by Scott RC Levy, is tight, imaginative, and muscular. Levy keeps the show, which has no intermission, moving at a break-neck pace which serves the story well. He also elicits from his cast consistently strong performances, full of passion, comedy, and sorrow. I suppose it is possible for Levy to do a bad job- but I've yet to see that happen. The set, by Christopher L. Sheley, is gorgeous, as are the costumes by Sydney Gallas and lights by Holly Anne Rawls. The choreography by Mary Ripper Baker is subtle, evocative, and exciting. And the band, under the musical direction of Sharon Skidgel, is superb.
The cast is amazing. as Cervantes/Don Quixote, Stephen Day is the perfect blend of sublime hope, delusion, and daring. He made me laugh and cry in equal measure. As Sancho, Quixote's trusted sidekick, Sammie Joe Kinnett is hilarious, but never over the top- keeping the character grounded and believable and a joy to behold. And Aldonza/Dulcinea, Gina Naomi Baez is fanatastic- she makes the character sexy, dangerous, and vulnerable as we watch her journey from hardened bar wench to dignified woman. There is not a weak link in this cast.
Man of La Mancha plays Thursdays thru Sundays until June 18. I strongly urge you to go. And, when you do, look around in the audience after the show. I am sure that there will be more than one young person in the audience who's life will be changed for the better- look for them, look for the way a piece of theatre can inspire them.
For more info on the show, and how to get tickets, click HERE.
Scott RC Levy and the Colorado Springs Fine Arts Center's Theatre Company have done it yet again- created a unique and exciting night of theatre that is both thoroughly engaging and completely entertaining. This is no surprise. They are by far the most consistently excellent theatre company in Colorado. Their latest gem is the interactive show Shear Madness, which has the distinction of being the longest running non-musical show in America.
Ever.
It's easy to see why when sitting in the audience at the FAC. The play starts with a hilarious bit of physical comedy, segues into a clever farce, and then transforms into an interactive mystery with the audience helping to solve a murder. I don't want to say too much about the plot, as that will spoil it for you when you go to see it. (and you will go see it!) Suffice to say that the show takes place in a beauty shop, a murder takes place, and a detective shows up to solve the crime. The beauty shop is run by Tony, played with abundant aplomb by the irrepressible Nathan Halvorson, who turns in a virtuoso performance. From the moment the show begins, Halvorson owns the stage, the audience, and the greater Colorado Springs area. Keeping time with Halvorson, and equally amazing, is Rebecca Myers as Tony's co-worker Barbara. Myers is full of sass and sensuality- if not so much smarts. The two banter and gossip to music from the radio, and instantly win over the crowd as they throw local-themed jokes at each other while cutting folks hair. Into the salon walks Eddie Lawrence, play with just the right touch of menace by Michael Lee to make us think he is most likely the killer. After him comes Birgitta DePree as Mrs. Shubert- a snooty buy loveable dame of high society. DePree is brilliant- a force of nature unto herself. There is a lot of interaction with the audience in this show, and the night I saw it she had some moments going back and forth with the crowd that made me laugh so hard my face hurt. When the murder takes place, the police of course arrive, and the show, which is already hilarious to the point where you can barely hear over the raucous laughter of the audience, kicks into high gear as the gruff detective (a fantastic C. Clayton Blackwell) and his rather dim-witted but good natured side-kick (the hilarious Nathan Ferrick) begin questioning both the people in the salon and the audience about the events of the day.
The show is full of lines written specifically for the area, and a there is a lot of improvisation in the play as the story in part moves forward based on what the audience says to the police. As such, there is an immediacy to the play, a sense that this is a once in a lifetime performance, which of course it is. Mr. Levy has skillfully directed the play at a lightning pace, allowing the actors to strut their stuff where appropriate, but also keeping the pace tight so that there are no dull moments.
The design is, as always at the FAC, outstanding. Christopher L. Sheley has created a beautiful set that is lit gorgeously by light designer Holly Anne Rawls. The cast is costumed perfectly by Janson Fangio- with outfits that are comedic, and so very right for each character's personality.
The show is a quick two hours, and I promise you will laugh your ass off if you are wise enough, and lucky enough, to get a ticket to the remaining shows. (for ticket info, click HERE)
Ok. Shameless plug time. I teach playwriting for adults at the DCPA. It is a blast. People come in, we work on their plays, and at the end of class, there is a staged reading of ten minutes from the best of each students work.
It's really amazing to help someone find their voice; to be able to make them feel safe enough to take that huge risk that is writing something and having people read it out loud; to be one of the first to hear a new play.
I've already done two sessions this past year, and they were both amazing. Really cool work- about everything from clones to submarines, sex workers to rock stars- has come out of the class already. This past class was the first where we had actors from the DCPA education classes perform the work created in the playwriting class- and it was amazing. For a playwright, it is invaluable to have your work given life by actors.
I want to hear more!
If you live in Colorado, and want to join a writer's workshop that is both challenging, exciting, and fun- then join me Tuesday nights at the DCPA.
Here is the class description:
7 sessions • 3 hr class time Tue • Jun 14 - Jul 26 • 6:30 - 9:30pm • Kelly McAllister
Whether you’re starting a play or are in the middle of working on a script, get the notes you need to take your writing to the next level. Designed for beginner and ongoing playwrights, this lab will focus on developing characters and dialogue while moving the story forward through plot and structure. Your work will be regularly read to help development, and in the last class, actors will read selections of your play so you to hear it come to life. 8 student minimum, 12 maximum.
Up early, walking the dog, rearranging the garage, listening to the Drowsy Chaperone on my iPhone as I do all this, getting ready for two productions of this show I'll be directing in the Fall. And as I walk around my neighborhood in the cool, Autumn-is-on-it's-way air, I am struck by a thought- well, lots of thoughts, all bundled together in the colors of the leaves, the mist from sprinklers, the sound of a group of birds taking flight when I get to close. The thoughts, in no particular order: Life is infinitely long and shockingly short; this world is indeed full of beautiful things and we miss most of them most of the time; I have a lot of shows coming up (Little Mermaid at Reel Kids, Lend Me a Tenor at Inspire/Creative, Drowsy Chaperone at the JCC, Glee at StageDoor, a student created show at the Logan School, Honk! also at the Logan School, and another student created show at Englewood's Finest High School); I have a lot of writing to do (another pass on Ghostlight, Boogie Man, who knows what else); and blah blah blah.
I have a lot going on. As do we all. And I could freak out and stand still and be paralyzed. But I'm not. I feel almost obscenely serene. I'm alive. I get to do what I love. I have a wife, a home, a dog. I am so lucky. Yes, money can be tight. And friends and family have problems of all shapes and sizes. And not every studio is knocking on my door clamoring for a screenplay. So what? I am here. I am relatively safe, when you consider how a lot of the people in this world have to live. I think, even if I were a mayfly and lived for just a day, I would be happy. Maybe I'm a moron.
Point is: I dig being alive, and I can't help it. I have had worse breaks than some, better breaks than others. It is a miracle to be alive at all, and so I smile.
Now, here is something awesome that one of my former students made. He is hilarious and brilliant and I fully expect to see his name in lights, or read about his arrest.
I think that is awesome.
Also, if you are an actor in the Denver area, the Lend Me a Tenor production I'm directing for Inspire/Creative in Parker is a paid gig. Sign up for auditions HERE.
And buy some of my plays for a very reasonable price HERE.
That's it. Have to go clean the bathroom, fold some clothes, vacuum, and then go to final dress and performance of Alice in Wonderland at the Denver JCC.
WARNING:Reefer Madness the Musical, now playing at the Fine Arts Center in Colorado Springs, will get you high, baby. Can you dig it? High on life. High on great music, exciting choreography, brilliant design. High on watching amazing performers deliver with aplomb a fantastic, inventive show based on a hilariously out of whack cautionary movie from 1936 about the evils of the devil weed. Put simply, it will freak you out in the best way possible- and that ain't no jive.
The musical is presented as a mockumentary of sorts, complete with overly earnest narrator, or Lecturer, speaking directly to the audience about the terrible "facts" of marijuana and how the stuff is destroying the youth of America. The Lecturer tells us the infamous story of Jimmy Harper and Mary Lane, who of course have their lives turned upside down, irrevocably ruined, by the demon weed. When we meet Jimmy and Mary- played to perfection by Andrew Wilkes and Chelsea Ringer- they are your typical suburban couple from the 1930's. Or rather, what was thought to be your ideal young white couple of that time. Jimmy and Mary are happy, peppy, and bursting with love- until Jimmy meets the evil Jack, who introduces him to the dreaded reefer. Soon enough, Jimmy is getting high, partaking in orgies, and hanging out with his fellow degenerates at Jack's place. Things go further South from there. The plot itself is hilarious, and I don't want to give too much away- suffice to say that things don't turn out so well for Jimmy and Mary. Along their tragic path, we meet Mae, the weed addict with a heart of gold and a voice like an angel's. Caren Tackett plays Mae, and she is flat out stunning- her comic timing is impeccable, and her singing sends chills of ecstasy down your spine. We also meet the demented Ralph, another weed-fiend played by a very funny Kevin Pierce. The sexpot at the den of iniquity is Sally, a sassy Rebecca Myers who lights up the stage every moment she's on it. We also get two numbers featuring the Son of Man Himself, Jesus. Jesus, and the evil Jack, are both played by Kenton Fridley- and let me tell you, this guy is the real deal. I really don't know how they can find so many talented people at the FAC, but somehow, they do. Every last member of the cast is excellent- Becca Vervoulas as the girl who brings out various placards with messages about how marijuana can make you do bad things like cannibalize your friends, and the ensemble of Alex Campbell, Nathan Ferrick, Sammy Gleason, and Omid Dastan Harrison are all perfect- they dance and sing and play a variety of outrageous characters with a glee that is infections and as addictive as the demon weed itself. And special mention must be given to Max Ferguson, who plays the Lecturer, who leads this madcap cast of lunatics with style and energy. Seriously, this cast is one of the best ensembles I have ever seen.
The choreography and direction by Nathan Halvorson is outstanding- moving at a break-neck pace, full of surprises and inventiveness and a sort of giddiness that makes you happy to be alive. The set, by Kevin Loeffler, is beautiful and just twisted enough to make you know that the world the show is presenting is a bit off-kilter. The costumes are stellar- giving us everything from your typical teenagers at the Five-and-Dime dancing a jitterbug, to hallucinatory reefer-zombies, a randy Devil, the aforementioned Jesus with a cadre of back-up angels, and semi-nude participants in the outrageous orgy scene. Perfectly matching the set and costumes in tone are the colorful lights by designer Jonathan Spencer. And the band, led by Ian Ferguson, is top notch. Every element of this show is perfect.
So, if you like smart, exciting, ground-breaking theatre that keeps you leaning forward, laughing and clapping, Reefer Madness at the FAC in Colorado Springs is the show for you. Once again, Scott Levy has put together the best theatre in the state, as is his habit.
And, if you can get a ticket to the March 1 show, you can meet the show's composer Dan Studney!
Want to see and hear more about the show? Click HERE for a short video!
Moon and Alma have come to a deserted race track on Madeline Island, the most haunted of the Apostle Islands of Lake Superior. They hope to raise the ghost of Honeyboy Jack Schaefer and film it on their smart phone, so that they can get on a paranormal tv show. See previous post for more.
ALMA
Just tell us about Honey Bun.
MOON
Honey Boy! (back to camera) So, I’m standing on the old dirt track where Honey Boy won his last race- before plunging into the ice water mansions of Gitchy-Gummi.
ALMA
Moon! Stick to the script.
MOON
We are summoning the spirit of Honey Boy tonight, and he’s going to help me win tomorrows race.
ALMA
He better.
MOON
Do you really think they’ll break my thumbs if I don’t pay them back?
ALMA
Moon! Don’t bring up loan sharks when the cameras are rolling. And yes, they’ll break your thumbs. They’ll break every bone in your body.
MOON
I can’t believe you talked me into going to them.
ALMA
I didn’t talk anyone into anything.
MOON
You’re the one who needed the money for the smart phone.
ALMA
It’s called an Android, dumb ass. Smart phone is a generic phrase. And the Android isn’t the problem. We’re four months behind on the rent, the repo man took my car-
MOON
I know, I know! At least I got the cable bill paid so we can watch Breaking Bad.
ALMA
Can we get on with the shoot please?
MOON
Fine! So, on this very spot, on a chilly September night Honey Boy won his last race. I have a picture of him holding the trophy. (pulls photo out of his pants pocket). Can you get a close up of this? Alma moves in for a close up of the photo.
MOON (cont’d)
As you can see, next to Honey Boy is the love of his life, Whiz Winchester- the fastest lady driver back then.
ALMA
She’s big- tall as Honey Boy.
MOON
Yep. A tall drink of water.
ALMA
What happened to Whiz after Honey Boy died?
MOON
Nobody knows. Some say she headed south. Some say she killed herself- Suddenly, the trunk moves as if there is something very powerful inside, knocking Moon on to the ground.
ALMA
Moon, stop goofing around!
MOON
What are you talking about? That thing moved!
ALMA
The trunk? The trunk moves again.
MOON
Oh my god! An old car engine revs offstage, loudly. Then several car engines rev- it sounds like a race track right before a race. The sound builds and builds.
ALMA
This is awesome! Go stand by the trunk and tell us about summoning Honey Boy!
MOON
Are you crazy? We have to get out of here! Suddenly, the sounds stop. Silence. Moon and Alma stare at each other.
ALMA
I think I got all that recorded!
To Be Continued...
We open MOON OVER BUFFALO at the Wolf Theatre Academy at the Denver JCC this Wednesday. It's going well. No, it's going fantastically. What is really amazing is watching these young lions of the theatre figure the show out- to see their eyes grow wide when a comic moment occurs to them, they try it, and it works. I swear, sometimes I think I can see them literally grow taller on stage. I learn so much from my students. I think the world would be a better place if everyone, for just a month, had to teach young people. Anyhow, we are having a blast, the show is hilarious, and the piece has a gigantic heart. The glee is palpable. The show itself is a love letter to theatre, to being brave and scared and inspired and crazy. Happily, everyone involved in the show loves the theatre as much, if not more, than I do. Every rehearsal, we find something new. Every rehearsal, someone takes a risk, finds a greater truth, and adds to the show. I think the essence of the show is said best in a monologue the character George has in Act Two. It goes like this:
"Think, woman! Think for a minute! Use your brain! Think of all the fun we have together. Rambling from town to town like minor royalty. Signing autographs and doing interviews. My God, you'll be laughing about my entrance as Cyrano for months! And think of the joy you give to thousands of people every week. As Amanda and Roxane. Lady Bracknell and Eliza Doolittle. Youre and actress, Charlotte. It's in your veins. If you were caught in the spotlight of a runaway train, you'd break in to a time step. It's a gift to be so reckless and insane. There are people out there in the darkness who are living through you. Dreaming of what they can be through your voice."
So if you are around Denver this week, come to the show and share the love, the joy, the reckless insanity. For details, click HERE.
I'm a quasi-pagan, magical thinking believer in Bigfoot, UFOs, and the Loch Ness Monster. Whenever I do a show, on opening night I go backstage, find a quiet corner, and say a prayer to Thespis. I've seen ghosts. At times, like Ghandi, I am a Muslim, and Christian, and a Jew. And a Hindu, and an atheist, and an agnostic. My pantheon includes Superman, Batman, and the Avengers- along with Loki, Raven, and Cassiopeia, Queen of Elsewhere. And I don't see this as in any way illogical.
I am pondering my own gods because I came upon a book the other day that I hadn't read since I was in fourth grade and took part in M.G.M. at Strawberry Park Elementary. M.G.M. stood for Mentally Gifted Minors, although most of the kids at school said it stood for Mentally Goofed-up Morons. There were students from several different schools in M.G.M., broken into several groups of about 20 each. Each group would have class once a week for a whole day. My group met on Wednesdays. In M.G.M., we read books, went of field trips to museums and the beach on a minus tide, did scientific observations of all these animals we had in class, like our boa constrictor Harvey. We discussed Picasso and Edgar Allen Poe. To me, it seemed like a full day of free time- and I couldn't quite believe the powers that be knew what we really did, because how could school be so fun? We didn't even have desks. We had bean bag chairs, and a couple of sofas, and even an old row boat with cushions in it, perfect for reading. The classroom was full of prints of art work, games to play designed to flex your brain muscles, and stacks upon stacks of books. In one of those stacks, I came across a book on Norse mythology that looked pretty cool. I don't think I even noticed the title ( D'Aulaires' Norse Gods and Giants). I just found the cover illustration to be really interesting. I knew of Thor, the Norse thunder god, thanks to Marvel Comics, and decided to give the book a look. I sat down in the row boat, and was pretty much instantly transported to another world, full of gods and trolls and magic. I could not put that book down. The stories were funny and exciting and a little scary. Thor was not blonde like he was in the comic book, but red-haired, and a little cranky. He was also not quite so smart. Whenever he needed someone with brains, he went to Loki- who was at times funny, always crafty, and ultimately deadly. Loki and all the other fantastic characters in this amazing book were believable to me- powerful but flawed. And they stuck with me. I remember reading about Odin, the one-eyed ruler of the Norse Gods, or Aesir. He had an eight-legged horse named Sleipner, a spear that never missed its' target, and two ravens named Thought and Memory who flew out into the world every day and came back at night to tell him what was going on down on Earth, or Mid-gard. Every time I saw a pair of Ravens in a tree or in a field, I'd think "there goes Thought and Memory". Sometimes I'd wave to them, hoping they'd give my regards to Odin.
Now, most of the characters in these stories were a little on the crazy side of things. Which was perfect, to me- as I had already begun to suspect that most of the world was inhabited by crazy folks. This was 1976- and the world was a strange place. America was Watergate, Richard Nixon, and Viet Nam. The Beatles had broken up, disco reigned supreme, and worse still, the Brady Bunch had been cancelled. The 1960's were a golden age that had passed away with Janis and Jimi and Jim, and according to Pete we were all wasted with Baba O'Reilly. It seemed like every movie had a sad ending, or one where the good guys turned out to be kind of bad, or the bad guys turned out to be not so evil. On top of that, at home my brother, sister, and I were beginning to understand what it meant to live in a house with an alcoholic thanks to our step-father. Our real dad had left years earlier- and we never really heard from him at all. No phone calls, letters, post-cards, birthday cards, Christmas presents. Nothing. Daddy Jay, as we called our biological father, was a lost hero banished from our lives. I didn't bear any malice towards him- but I did think it a drag that he was gone, and secretly hoped that he'd return one day and take us somewhere that was safe, and where you didn't have to worry about getting yelled at over seemingly small things like not making your bed. And when I say yelled at, I mean long, scary interrogations by someone who could sometimes be funny and nice, and sometimes frightening and violent. Everyone was a little crazy. And here were all these stories of gods and trolls and heroes and monsters, trying to survive the long cold night, and somehow smiling bravely in the face of impending doom. In the Norse tales, the gods were all fated to die in a great battle called Ragnarok, which was sort of like Armageddon except that all the good guys get killed. They were mortal, and nothing they could do would change their fate- but still they carried on. Which was cool. It was as if they had heard someone sing "carry on, my wayward son, there'll be peace when you are done", and said in reply, "verily".
So I read that book over and over.
Then Junior High came along, and puberty, and girls, and life went on. But something about those stories stayed with me- I mean, if you look at my plays, they all have these powerful, lost, cursed people who try to carry on in the face on certain doom. I even put some of the Norse gods in my plays- most notably Hel, daughter of Loki and goddess of death. But others work their way in. I often use Raven, who is the Pacific northwest equivalent to Loki- chaotic, funny, and dangerous.
The other night, I was at Barnes & Noble, and came across a new edition of that book- it's been re-titled "D'Aulaires' Norse Mythology, and has a fantastic intro by Michael Chabon- but it's the same book, with the same wonderful illustrations. It was like running into an old friend I hadn't seen in a long time. I read a couple of stories, and to my delight found that they still ring true.
So I'm waiting on things. Contests, projects, the proverbial ship to come in and all that. And while I do, the wheels of the world keep turning at great speed, as if all motion is perpetual, all moments continual, all threads connected somehow, in a way that I always understand in my dreams but can't quite remember when I wake up.
Guess Lennon was right- Life is what happens while you're making plans.
I got a reading of Riddle Lost coming up out in Salinas, California at the Western Stage- one of the many incubators of my artistic soul. I spent many summers there as an actor, working on some pretty amazing projects, including a nine hour, three part adaptation of East of Eden which was one of the seminal experiences of my life. It's run by Jon Selover, who I went to college and who taught me a lot about theatre.
Salinas is also where my first play, Last Call takes places.
The reading is part of 2x4 Bash, a project run by another old friend and fellow lunatic Mark Englehorn that also includes a reading of the play 8 by Dustin Lance Black- the guy who won the Oscar for writing Milk, and who was in a production of Peter Pan with me at Western Stage. So that's pretty friggin' sweet.
Riddle Lost is about a real life guy from the Old West named Jeff Riddle who's mother was a Modoc Indian and father was a settler and who lived through a really nasty war. It takes place in the after-life, and has a cast of characters that includes Norse death god Hel, a cigar store Indian named Ziggy, and Raven- the trickster god of the Pacific-Northwest. It's weird and funny and sad and I like to think kicks it in the ass. If you're near on Salinas on August 24, go check it out.
I'm also doing a lot of children's theatre this summer. A lot. Tomorrow I audition 52 kids for a musical I'm directing up in Boulder in July, and on Monday I start a production of Lightning Thief here in Denver. And while it may be tiring as all hell, it's also really invigorating to do theatre with young folks. They still understand the power of the imagination, and there isn't much they can't do.
On top of that, I am super close to finishing my first flick, Strong Tea. Like probably a week. Then I leap into the land of submitting to film festivals- where I will live for the next year.
And on top of all that, I have two other screenplays I'm figuring out.
I think I need to take the wife and drive up to the mountains and watch a river splash along for a few hours, sing to the trees, and search for Bigfoot.
I love theatre. Have I mentioned that? Well, I do. I friggin' adore it. Especially when done by seemingly like-minded lunatics who somehow manage to capture a little bit of the effervescent magic of what it means to be a human being; who reach out into the soul of the audience and say "it's okay, we get it, now let's sing and dance a little"; who kick it in the ass.
That's what's going on down at the Colorado Fine Arts Center with their current production of Hairspray. This is a funny, smart, and sexy show that starts with a bang and keeps getting better, scene by scene and number by number. Hairspray (based on the 1988 film by John Waters) follows the adventures of Tracy Turnblad in 1962 Baltimore. Tracy is a teen-ager who loves to dance more than anything in the world, and dreams of being a regular on The Corny Collins Show, a local TV show where teens dance and sing to the latest tunes. Corny Collins is Baltimore's version of Dick Clark, and Max Ferguson is hilarious in the role. The show is produced by Velma Von Tussle, local villaness and former Miss Baltimore Crabs- played with nasty gusto by Alannah Moore. The show within the show epitomizes rock-n-roll in the early sixties- white bred and watered down. Even so, Tracy loves it- and especially local teen star Link Larkin. Link, as played by Marco Robinson, is hilarious- a kind of bumbling young leading man who reminded me of James Franco- if Franco could sing and dance. Link's girlfriend, another member of the Corny Collins Show, is mean girl Amber Van Tussle- daughter of Velma. As Amber, Lacey Connell gives us a great meanie who is both entrancing in looks and style, but appalling in manner and heart.
Tracy's sweet, determined, and a little bigger than the average dancer- but that doesn't slow her down for a minute. The show lets us know right away that we're in a world that's a little larger than life- but at the same time a little more realistic than your average musical- with the song "Good Morning Baltimore". In it, we meet Tracy, who loves her town, and life itself, unconditionally. In her world, there are flashers, bums and rats, as well as sunshine, magic, and promise. Andrea Rutherford plays Tracy perfectly- she's perky, kind, silly and sexy. The moment the lights come up on her, you love her and want her to win the day. Tracy is a working class girl, and her parents are you average working class folks, with dreams that didn't quite come true. But they are also unique in their optimism and love, which is so sweet and strong you just want to hug them. The mother, Edna, is played with perfect comic timing and gigantic heart by Drew Frady. Edna is a force of nature who has never let herself shine in all her glory at the top of the play- but thanks to her daughters love and the circumstances of the story, by the end of the show Edna is a show-stopping Diva who owns the stage. Michael Augenstein plays Tracy's dad Wilbur, a goofy guy who owns a novelty shop and who encourages his daughter to do what she wants and follow her dreams. Wilbur is charming in the role. One of the many things I love about this show is how these parents, who could be seen as geeky losers, are loving, strong, wonderful people. They don't have a lot of money, or a strong sense of fashion, or any of those shallow things we seem to prize too much- but they have souls the size of the cosmos. And their song You're Timeless to Me is fantastic- one of several show stopping numbers. Tracy and her best friend, Penny Pennington- played by the magnetically charming Carmen Vreeman- watch the Corny Collins show religiously- much to the consternation of their parents, who would like them to spend more time studying. Tracy, in particular, seems to get into trouble a lot at school- and ends up in detention most days. This is actually a good thing, because it is there that she meets Seaweed J. Stubbs and his friends- the black kids in this still segregated time. Seaweed, as played by Tyrell D. Rae, is one cool dude- who can dance and sing and has that kind of ease with himself that makes you want to hang out with him. Tracy and Seaweed hit it off instantly, and before you know it, Seaweed is teaching Tracy all the lastest moves. A spot on the Corny Collins Show opens up when one of the teen dancers gets knocked up, and Tracy's chance to shine finally arrives. What follows is a battle of wills between Tracy- optimistic and accepting- and Amber- snooty and mean. And then there is the eleven o'clock number I Know Where I've Been, sung by Seaweed's mom, Motormouth Maybelle- that brings down the house. Motormouth is played by Lynne Hastings- yet another stand out in this stand out cast.
The show is directed by Scott RC Levy- who became the Artistic Director of the Fine Arts Center this year and has consistently provided vital shows that speak to the heart and mind in equal measure with passion. Here again, he shows off his talent. The show runs at a perfect pace, never dragging, always engaging, and consistent in mood and energy. He sets the tone from start to finish as one just this side of reality- fantastic, funny, and quirky.
I really can't say enough how much I enjoyed this show. It's life affirming. I hope it sells out the run and extends for a month or two, so that I can see it again.
So, that's what I think of Hairspray. Other than that, don't forget to check out my plays, available at Indie Theatre Now. Also, there's a chance my play Burning the Old Man will be done in Brazil this fall. That would be the fourth continent I've been produced on- which I think is cool. And very soon, my short Strong Tea will be ready for the world. Until then, go out and get your theatre on.
Anyway, below are my author's notes for Fenway. No doubt, there are names missing that I will add as soon as I get them.
AUTHOR’S NOTES – The
inspiration to write Fenway came on the night that George W. Bush got
re-elected. I was at The Magician,
a bar on the Lower East Side of NYC, watching the returns with some friends,
and I wondered what happened to all those people from the 1960’s who were
supposed to change the world?
Where were those lost idealists and protesters? It seemed like they had
all vanished, died, or sold out. I
started to think about how liberalism had seemed to be on the decline in
America since about 1980, when Reagan got elected, and how hippies were now
pretty much a joke, a mostly forgotten stereotype. And somehow, I got to thinking about Uncle Vanya.
I have loved the play Uncle Vanya ever since I saw a
production of it done at The Western Stage of Salinas directed by my friend Jon
Selover. It’s so funny and sad and
pertinent. I remember watching Julian Lopez-Morillas as Astrov in Act Three
going on about the shrinking forests and thinking maybe the speech was an
insert, penned by a modern writer.
But no, turns out old Anton was an environmentalist. This particular production was
brilliant- fast and furious and thought provoking- not unusual for that theatre
company. If there was one part of
the play that I didn’t completely relate to, it was how Vanya was so mad at
Serebryakov. I got that Vanya was
in love with the professor’s wife- but there was a deeper sense of betrayal at
the professor. I don’t know if it
was that version of the script (Mamet’s), or where I was in my life at the
time, but it just didn’t quite click for me. But then, watching George W. Bush on the screen, it
clicked. Serebryakov was a
sell-out, the equivalent of all those people from the 1960’s who had once stood
for peace, love and understanding but had decided to instead become staunch
defenders of the status quo. And I
could see in my mind’s eye Uncle Vanya set in the 1980’s, during the Reagan
Revolution, on an old hippie commune.
Astrov could be a Greenpeace type who works at a methadone clinic, Vanya
a burnt out ex-hippie, and Serebyrakov a former radical turned
conservative. Often, when I get an
idea for a play, it’s like that. I
see the whole world, and several of it’s characters. I don’t sleep much, and become sort of annoying to people,
as all I can talk about for weeks is the story. I wrote the first draft quickly. I would have friends over to read scenes as they were being
written- including Jack Halpin, Christine Goodman, Heather McAllister, and Tim
McCracken. I told Tim Errickson
about the idea. He had directed a
production of Vanya at Expanded Arts in which I played Astrov, and I knew he
would dig it. He did, and soon
there was a reading as part of Boomerang Theatre’s First Flight, and it felt
pretty groovy. Re-writes were
done, and another reading/lab was done up at Lincoln Center, using the talents
many fine actors, including Julie Congress and Dan O’Neill. The next draft was given a
reading by BeaconNY Productions, and used such talented wonders as Christopher
Grabowski, Tara Falk, and Diane Buglewics Foote. One of the great joys of writing plays is all the
talented artists you get to work with- each with a unique perspective that adds
to the soul of the show. I wrote
and re-wrote, and the wrote some more.
Many rewrites- with so much help from Lisa that she became co-author-
and it was ready for a full production, which happened in the fall of 2006 as a
co-production between the Boomerang Theatre Company and Impetuous Theatre Group, with Jack Halpin,Carrie Brewer, Reyna de Courcy, Margaret
A. Flanagan,James David Jackson, Tom Knutson, Paul Navarra and was directed by
Tim Errickson.
In 2009, there was a workshop reading of the play at the
Oregon Shakespeare Festival, in their Black Swan Lab run by Lue Morgan Douthit with a cast that included Gregory Lingington, Richard Howard, Jeffrey
King, Derrick Lee Weeden, Terri McMahon, Vilma Silva, Catherine E. Coulson,
Miriam A. Laube, Ryan Anderson and Tyrone Wilson. In early 2010, a reading was given by
the Seattle Playwrights Collective directed by Dan Tarker with Alysha Curry, Gene Thorkidsen, Sherry Narens, Gary Estrada, Griffith Kadiner, Dolores Rodgers, and Richard Hawkin. Several re-writes came about from
those two readings, and the version you have is the latest draft, based on all
three productions/workshops.
I would encourage people doing this play to seek the comedy
as much as possible. And look up
all the songs they mention in the script.
In this day of the interne, Youtube and Google, it is inexcusable to not
research all references in a play.
So it's over a week into the new year, and I still haven't really made any resolutions. As Rick Perry would say, oops. It's not that I don't like resolutions or anything. I usually make tons of them- this year, I'm going to write 5 new plays; this year, I'm going to exercise every morning; this year, I'm going to write in my journal for half an hour a day; I'm going to read a book a month; I'm going to be nicer to strangers; I'm going to finally remember how to fly like I can in that recurring dream.
There's no end to things I've made resolutions about. But so far, mark me down for zippo this year. Maybe it's the whole Mayan calendar end of the world thing. Maybe it's the onset of a gigantic mid-life crisis, coupled with existential blues and compounded by a dulling of my brain by the constant news reports on the GOP primary. I don't really know why I haven't made any promises to myself about what I want to do in 2012. I just haven't.
Well, screw that.
I'm going see more theatre this year, and when I see a show, write about it on this blog promptly. I saw a fantastic production of A Year with Frog and Toad in December at the Fine Arts Center in Colorado Springs, and didn't write about it. The cast was uniformly superb, the direction by Scott RC Levy brilliant, and the production values outstanding. This is the kind of theatre we desperately need more of, and I need to do what ever I can, in my small way, to help promote it. The next production at the FAC, Sarah Ruhl's In the Next Room, opens February 2. I can't wait to see it, and to write about it here.
I'm going to finish my first film, Strong Tea. That's actually a pretty easy resolution to keep, as it is staffed, cast, and funded. We shoot at the end of the month, and hope to start making the festival rounds in early February. Should be quite the adventure, and I am sure I'll be writing about that whole experience here as well.
I also resolve to finish my latest movie script, and start on at least one new play. Why not?
And I resolve to listen to more music, take more walks, and not beat myself up when I forget to do all these wonderful things. Life is way too short, and if this is indeed the last year of civilization, who has time to recriminate oneself? Not me.
So, resolutions done. Now on to work, play, and no dull boy.
Also, if you happen to be in the town of Pardubice in the Czech Republic this week-end, you should go see Putovani S Urnou at Divadlo Exil. It's a translation of my play Burning the Old Man. Opening night is sold out, but I think you can get tickets for the second performance.
The Harvardwood Actors' Program, in association with the American Repertory Theatre / Moscow Art Theatre Institute for Advanced Theatre Training at Harvard University Alumni Association will present a reading of Kelly McAllister's screenplay Burning Man.
Monday November 14th 6:00 PM (reading will start promptly at 6:00 - please arrive a little early to grab a drink and find a seat)
Solas Bar 2nd floor seating area - no elevator access 232 E 9th St
Free admission No reservations needed, seating is first come first serve on the upper level.Trying to fulfill their father’s dying wish of having his ashes scattered at the Burning Man festival, two brothers who can’t stand each other find themselves stranded in the middle of the Nevada Desert. They have no money, no car, and only 24 hours before the festival ends.An epic story about two not-so-epic lives *Christian Grunnah - MARTY *Paul Murillo - BOBBY *Rebecca West - JO *Anna Rahn - CANDY *Jason Beaubien - EARTH *Tim Eliot - EDDY / THE OLD MAN *Doug Chapman - LIQUOR STORE CLERK, GAS STATION ATTENDANT & BIKER DUDE *Chudney Sykes - LADY BARFLY, Stage DirectionsAll actors are alumni from the American Repertory Theatre / Moscow Art Theatre Institute at Harvard MFA program.
Kelly McAllister- Plays include: Burning the Old Man, which won the 2005 NYIT award for Outstanding Full Length Script and is featured in One on One- Best Men’s Monologues for the 21st Century and Duo! The Best Scenes for Two for the 21st Century (Applause Books), Best Men’s Monologue’s 2005 (Smith & Kraus), and Plays and Playwrights 2006 (NYTE); Hela and Troy, finalist 2011 Humana Festival at the Actor’s Theatre of Louisville, published by Playscripts, inc.; Last Call, 2002 FringeNYC Excellence in Playwriting award, featured in Best Stage Scenes 2002 (Smith & Kraus) and the anthology Plays and Playwrights 2003 (NYTE); Muse of Fire; The Morons, winner 2005 Ten by Ten one act contest at Triangle Theatre Company, NC; Some Unfortunate Hour; The Rembrandt section of The Heist Project, in collaboration with Art House Productions; and Fenway: Last of the Bohemians. He had his first international production in May 2009, when Divadlo na Zabradli of Prague opened Cesta Horiciho Muze, the Czech translation of Burning the Old Man- where it is still performing to sold out houses. He is currently working on his first film, a short called Strong Tea. His plays have been produced and/or workshopped by many fine theatres, including Boomerang Theatre Company, Oregon Shakespeare Festival, hope theatre, inc., Impetuous Theatre Group, Gravity and Glass Productions, the Playwrights Collective of Seattle, Children’s Theatre Workshop, and The Other Theatre of Denver. In 2003, San Jose State University named him Graduate of the Last Decade for the School of Humanities. He was also a senior reviewer for nytheatre.com for 2003-2005. You can read his blog at rkmcallister.blogspot.com. He is represented by Scott Edwards of Harden-Curtis NYC, 212-977-8502.
PAST projects of the Harvardwood group include The Pilot Season Survival Guide, a reading of Marc Sulley's Last of the Navesink River Divers, Beth McGee's The Possessions of Mary Todd Lincoln, Kate Mulley's screenplay Zandy, and Elana Zucker's screenplay The Weathergirl.
