FAC PUTS IT TOGETHER PERFECTLY

Well, they've done it again. The Theatre at the Colorado Springs Fine Arts Center, under the exceptional leadership of Artistic Director Scott RC Levy and the fantastic direction and choreography of FAC Associate Director of Performing Arts Nathan Halvorson, has mounted yet another outstanding show. This time, it's Stephen Sondheim's Putting It Together. My short review: It's freaking brilliant, and you need to see it. Get online and buy your tickets right now. Go ahead. I'll wait.

Putting It Together is a revue of around thirty songs by Stephen Sondheim, whom many consider to be the greatest living composer for musical theatre. Don't take my word for it.  “Stephen Sondheim has written some of the best musical theatre of the last 50 years,” says Performing Arts Director Scott RC Levy, “and will go down in history as one of the most important American composers of the 20th Century. The FAC has a strong history of producing his work, and when thinking of which show of his to do next, I thought of this piece, which features so much of his beautiful music from pieces throughout his career.” For those Philistines unfamiliar with him, Sondheim started out writing the lyrics for West Side Story and Gypsy, and went on to do both music and lyrics for such classic shows at A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum, A Little Night Music, Sweeney Todd, and Into the Woods. If you don't know any of those shows- stop reading this and go see one of them. Now. I am sure, no matter where you live in America, you can find a production of at least one of Sondheim's shows that is within driving distance. (If you live in Alaska, you can watch the movies of the four shows I just mentioned.) Again, I'll wait.

Putting It Together takes place at a cocktail party where five people examine each other, their relationships, and their lives. The five characters are the Husband, the Wife, the Younger Man, the Younger Woman, and the Other Man. Over the course of the party they slowly reveal their hopes and regrets, along with dreams deferred. And worse than the dreams that didn't come true are the dreams that became realities, but didn't meet expectations. As you can probably tell, this is not a show about bunnies and happiness and skipping along singing tra la la. But I like a little meat to my entertainment, a little bit of reality and intelligence and understanding of the human spirit. It's like Steinbeck said in East of Eden: Life made to look beautiful to the weak and the foolish teaches nothing, cures nothing, and does not allow the heart to soar.

Putting It Together features an all-star cast: Max Ferguson, Sally Hybl, Jordan Leigh, Scott RC Levy and Mackenzie Sherburne. They are all first rate performers. They not only have beautiful singing voices, the have a certain depth of emotion that allows them to fully interpret these complex, at times hilarious, at other times harrowing songs. FAC stalwart Max Ferguson is perfectly cast as the at times obnoxious, at times confused Younger Man. He exudes a desire to be manly along with an innocent charm, and infuses that mix perfectly in songs like Marry Me a Little.  Mackenzie Sherburne, as the sultry Younger Woman, is sublime. Her performance of The Miller's Son (from A Little Night Music) is superb. It's a haunting, funny, sad song that requires both the pipes of a great singer and the intelligence of a great actor, and Sherburne has plenty of both. Scott RC Levy is hilarious as the other man ( a role originated by Christopher Durang). He opens the show with a perfect rendition of Invocation and Instructions to the Audience, which is a riff on the now standard opening speech given before most theatrical productions. And Levy's practically stops the show with his explosive performance of I Could Drive a Person Crazy. As the married couple, Jordan Leigh and Sally Hybl are a revelation. They are just perfect. There is never a moment when either of them are on stage that you don't watch their every move. They play that all too familiar unhappy couple who dig at each other behind weary smiles, full of passive aggression and resentment- but also a deep yearning for connection. In act one, they sing the duet Country House, from Follies- and it's electric. Watching that number was like being at a party where a couple gets into a nasty fight, and it's awkward and strange and you don't know whether to leave, make a joke, or cry. And in act two, we get treated to Leigh signing Sorry-Grateful and Hybl singing I'm Not Getting Married Today. These are two of the best performers I have ever seen, in Colorado or New York or anywhere- and to be able to see performers of that caliber sing songs of that greatness is insane and rare and glorious. 

Nathan Halvorson directed and choreographed,
and clearly brought out the best of each member of the cast. He moves the show along at a brisk pace, and brings enough levity to never let it get too bogged down in tragedy. And the band! Oh my God the Band! According to the program there were only four musicians playing- but I could have sworn it was an entire orchestra. Sharon Skidgel conducts this amazing group of artists, and provides piano as well. (I think she might be either a mutant or from another planet, because it's impossible to be that good). The set, by Christopher L. Sheley,  is both simple and elegant; the costumes by Janson Fangio are subtle and excellent; and the lights by Holly Anne Rawls are gorgeous- theatrical and full of color but never detracting from the action on stage.

All in all, an exhilarating, funny, thought provoking show. Now go see it! Here are the details:

PUTTING IT TOGETHER
When: 7:30p Thursdays, Fridays and Saturdays; 2p Sundays, running Sept 10-27
Where: Colorado Springs Fine Arts Center, 30 W. Dale St.
Tickets: Starting at $20; 634-5583, csfineartscenter.org
Something else: Pay-as-You-Wish dress rehearsal at 7:30p Sept 9; Backstage Tour on Sept 24, free with paid admission; talkback with the performers following the final performance on Sept 27
Another thing: Their new restaurant Taste will be open for pre-theatre dining. Make reservations at 719.634.5583. We ate there before the show and it was fabulous.

TV MADE ME A CRYPTOZOOLOGIST

When I was a kid, I wanted- more than anything else- to see something supernatural. A ghost, Bigfoot, a UFO. Something.  At night, I would scan the skies. When camping, I would listen keenly for something large lumbering through the Sierra Nevada.

I blame TV.

Every Friday night, on KTVU Channel 2- which at the time was what we used to call an independent station- there was a show called Creature Features, hosted by Bob Wilkins. Creature Features was a double feature of horror movies hosted by Mr. Wilkins; who always provided a mix of wry commentary and cool info, things to notice in whatever movie we watched, and so on. I saw all the classic horror flicks, along with lots of not-so-classic ones. A typical evening's fare would be Frankenstein, followed by House of Frankenstein. Or Them! followed by Tarantula. Usually there would be a thematic link between the two. The big goal when watching Creature Features was to stay awake to the end of the second feature, which would usually end at around two in the morning. Not always easy to do, but I tried. This show was the must-have-on-in-the-background for any sleepover or slumber party. By third grade, I was well versed in vampires, mad scientists, demons, and all things that go bump boom bang in the night.

One movie that caught my imagination was The Legend of Boggy Creek- a sort of documentary about a sort of Bigfoot that was sort of scary. But the idea of an unexplained beast roaming the land was beyond exhilarating to me. I remember, clear as a bell, discussing the film with my friend Noel during recess at Strawberry Park Elementary. There was no doubt in either of our minds that the beast existed- that was a given. I think the scene that both amused and terrified us the most was the one where the monster was trying to break into this one guy's house while he was sitting on the toilet. How many films are there that are educational, frightening, and hilarious? Truly, this was one for the ages- a film destined to be spoken of with reverence. All I wanted to do after watching that flick was get myself a movie camera and a van and get myself to Boggy Creek to investigate this thing. Being around nine, this wasn't plausible, so I had to content myself with research at the local branch of the public library- a small building nestled between an ancient barn that had been abandoned for as long as anyone could remember, and a peach orchard. It had that funky architecture style so common in the early 1970's- a hybrid of ugly and Frank Lloyd Wright. It also had a whole set of shelves with books dedicated to the paranormal. I remember reading most of The Mothman Prophecies there one afternoon. There were lots of other books, with photos of ghosts, UFO's, and the Loch Ness Monster. I loved them all.

And then there was a documentary on regular tv, hosted by Rod Serling. It was called Monsters! Mysteries or Myths? This was the first "serious" documentary about aliens, Bigfoot, and Nessie every shown on national tv. And it was a huge hit, and paved the way for such shows as In Search of..., which in turn led us to such fare as Monsterquest and, my current favorite, Finding Bigfoot.

I love Bigfoot. I love Sasquatch, Yeti, the Ohio Grassman. Whatever you want to call it. I love the unknown, the unexplained, and things from somewhere else. My latest script is a pilot for a tv series about an unlikely pair who investigate the great mysteries of America. What a shock.

I even made a mockumentary, highly inspired by Finding Bigfoot, while in Wisconsin. Here are the results. (my beautiful co-star is my wife Lisa)

 

 

But wait, there's more:

 

 



And that's about all I have to say about that.

For the moment.

BLINK TWICE AND IT'S GONE

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.

Life.

KEEP WRITING

The best- the only- advice a writers needs. Keep writing. All other ideas, advice, changes, breakthroughs, innovations, edits- the whole enchilada, if you will- only happen when you take that first bit of advice.

Read others people's stuff. Write in a journal. Cut the first two lines and the last two lines of each scene. Make sure the character has a flaw. Keep the pace moving.

Whatever.

Just keep writing. Nothing else really matters.

Even when you don't want to.

Especially when you don't want to.

After you have gone through all your excuses, your other things that must be done- walking the dog, watering the plants, calling that friend you haven't spoken to in years, checking the scores, rearranging the refrigerator.

Keep writing.

After you have read what you've got so far at least fifty times. After you've stared at the screen and gone into a sort of coma and snap out of it not sure where in the story you are, or if it is worth anything to anyone, ever in the history of time.

After you've asked friends, family, strangers, everyone in every social network you belong to and anyone else you can get a hold of to read it.

Keep writing.

Tom Wolfe once wrote that in a copy of Hooking Up for me. "Kelly, Keep Writing, Tom."

Taft Miller, the Teiresias of Salinas, was one of the most amazing people I ever knew. He was an actor, a director, a friend, a mystic- a force of nature who had gone blind shortly after I knew him and was quite ill, but always full of energy and life. He directed me in East of Eden. When I wrote a bunch of screeds about whatever was on my mind and called them "Memos from the Underground" and placed them, anonymously, in people's mail slots at The Western Stage, Taft was the only person who immediately knew it was me. And he dug it, told me to keep it up and asked if I needed any help with printing copies.

I loved Taft.

When I got word he was dying, I called his hospital room. Joyce, his lover and another amazing person I was very lucky to have in my life, got on the phone. She was crying, and Taft couldn't really talk- but I heard him in the background ask her who was on the line. "Kelly", she said. And I heard Taft say "Keep Writing".

Last words he said to me in this world.

Keep writing.

Keep keep keep writing.

Amen and hallelujah and amen again.

A NUMINOUS BOOGIE MAN

I'm working on a new script- a pilot for a tv series that for the moment I am calling Boogie Man. It's a  character driven paranormal show that examines America through our many myths and legends. Let's face it- we love horror. There is a reason that thrillers are the most greenlit movies out there. They make money! Hand over fist, day after day, year after year, we fork over our hard earned, meager wages to watch ghosts and ghouls and creepy dolls terrorize what we pretend are average Americans. It is what we do, for the most part.



Don't like scary movies- that's cool, but I hope you realize you are in the minority. And kind of un-American.

One of the things I like about being scared is the rush- the adrenaline ka-pow! feeling when the clown attacks from under the bed, or the decapitated head pops out of the boat. That immediate, in-the-moment realization that for a least this second, I am alive and fear for my life. And then I get the added bonus of realizing that I am in a theatre, or in front of our tv, and not going to be eaten by a zombie anytime soon.

But I think there's more. It seems to me that we recreate our own mythology on a constant basis, a pantheon filled with the likes of Jason and Saw and voracious aliens and gigantic dinosaurs.  We have to- we need to have the Unknown, the mystical, the I don't-what-the-hell-that-is-but-I-know-it's-there feeling. We need the dark. There is something magic, something Other in the dark- and I dig that the most. The Other. The magical things, that fill us with wonder for reasons we can't really explain but remind us there are more things in heaven and Earth than our little lives. I want to make stories that not only terrify, but also remind us of the majesty and mystery of this big freak out called life. I want the numinous.

This is clear if you look at anything I've written. I have ghosts, muses, a woman with a psychic sense of smell, and the trickster god Raven, among other things, in my plays. I am a magic realist. Or, as they call me in Brazil, a poetic realist. (you can find out more about my plays by clicking here or here)

I also want the comical. I want Cabin in the Woods, and the original Evil Dead films. I want people like Tobe Hooper and Stephen King and Kurt Vonnegut to shake me up. I want a horror story where suddenly werewolves are singing Good Morning Starshine on rooftops and it makes complete sense. I want the wide open sky to fill with demons, and the land to be covered with aliens, and then have it be like a huge middle school dance, with nobody dancing and everyone watching everyone else with a mix of desire and contempt.

Anyhow.

Here's what I have for the show. Jack Cro'Haven is the obnoxious host of a paranormal reality series called Boogie Man. In the pilot, a young gay couple are killed by the Ghost Bride of Cumberland Falls- a real life legend in Kentucky. The Boogie Man show investigates. Jack and his crew hold a town meeting, just like they do in every episode of Finding Bigfoot. During the time meeting, Jack meets Casey, a deeply religious, painfully shy young woman who, quite unbeknownst to herself, has amazing psychic abilities. At the same time, a bunch of fanatics similar to those morons who go to soldier funerals with signs that say things like "God hates fags" shows up and do what they do. Things get ugly. Beliefs are tested, shook up, shattered, and put back together. Casey has her world shaken up by Jack. Jack is given a glimpse of the numinous by Casey. By the end of the episode, the murder is, if not solved, dealt with as best as can be. Jack and Casey set off to see what more they can do for each other, and what other monsters, myths, and legends they can explore.

It might be great. It might suck. But I'm in.

PS- if you are a studio executive reading this- contact me immediately and start paying me money for this stuff. I will be able to write more often if I get paid for it.

FINDING IS LOSING SOMETHING ELSE

That's a quote from Richard Brautigan, who was this writer. My mom loved that particular quote. The whole line, which she said often, was "Finding is losing something else. I think about, perhaps even mourn, what I lost to gain this." I don't know if that is the actual quote. That's just how Mom said it. She also would often say "From the Mud Grows the Lotus." I think that might be the title of my autobiography. Of course, that implies that I have achieved lotushood, which is not really up to me to say. I, like Popeye, am what I am.

For those keeping score, you have no doubt noticed that I am writing on this blog a lot more. There are several reasons for this. First, I feel better when I write- in my journal, with my scripts, on this blog. It purifies my soul somehow. I often think of all these thoughts in my head as living beings, that if I don't get out of my head and onto the page/screen will die inside of me and poison my system. So I do it to stay alive.

Also, there is no shortage of other voices out there saying all sorts of things- and I think that is good. I prefer a species that speaks its mind to a society of statues.

Today, I was going over different images I want projected onto the back of the set for the upcoming production of Honk! at Reel Kids. I was googling this and that, looking at semi-cute drawings and such, when I thought of this painting of a field at the Met in New York. It's one of my all time favorites. It's a sunset, and there are workers in a hay field, and this one is standing and looking at the sunset, with her back to us. She is just so caught up in the sunset or whatever is on her mind, and she is part of the sunset and the field and it's beautiful. Whenever I'm at the Met, I go to see her, along with Joan of Arc and this one Socrates that is my buddy Jack's favorite.



So anyway, I decided that all the projections will be Impressionist paintings of farms and fields and
water lilies. And for the Cat's place, I'm using one of Vincent Van Gogh's bleak paintings of a sad little room. It feels right. I think I am an instinctual creator first and foremost. I leap in, then find form and clean up after. It's how I roll. How I shake and rattle too, for that matter.

I find things, I lose things, and hopefully grow from the mud.

SOMETIMES A GREAT NOTION

So this morning, at the sort of early Eight-thirty call time, my young cast of Honk! at Reel Kids was looking bleary eyed, half-asleep, and in need of some energy. Usually, we start rehearsals with a quick physical and vocal warm up, followed with some improv. That way all three of our basic tools- voice, body, and mind- are ready to work. (Part of my training at San Jose State University, which we all had drilled into our brains, was that an actor's job is to "create a believable character in a given situation using their voice, body, and mind)

But this morning, it was clear something different was called for- something new and fun and that would knock us all out of ourselves. Too often in this life, I think we all sort of sleep walk our way through the day, barely aware of all the wonders that surround us. Yes, I know, there are plenty of mundane things out there, so try and keep your eye rolling to a minimum. There is magic in this world, numinous experiences patiently waiting for us to get with it and live in the moment, even if it's just for a few seconds.

Just across the street from Reel Kids there is this park with a path encircling the grounds. It's about half a mile long. I decided to forgo the usual warm ups, and we all went for a walk on the path- and sang the first several songs from the show. It was great. We took a walk together. We sang in public, and I don't know if it was the novelty of the moment, the weariness of the cast, or their bravery- but nobody seemed the least bit self-conscious about performing songs from a musical based on the Ugly Duckling.

I don't know if this was brilliant or boring. But I felt alive. I think we all did. And that was groovy.