Just Wrought

Recovering playwright, once won a STRANGER Genius Award for theater. Now writing a bloated novel about… G-d help me! Theatre.

Tag: Balagan Theatre

  • Was Mission Creep/Diffusion the Smoking Gun of Seattle Theatre’s Decline?

    Was Mission Creep/Diffusion the Smoking Gun of Seattle Theatre’s Decline?

    It all started with me bitching about a Stranger review.  (Come to think of it, that’s how a lot of it starts.)  Now, full disclosure, I actually wrote one of the pieces in Balagan Theatre’s outdoor show King Arthur and the Knights of the Playground, but this ain’t my first rodeo, so I can assure you I’m highly unlikely to complain about a review simply because it’s negative.  (Press is press after all.)  What bugged me was that Goldy began his analysis of the show with a quintessentially flawed premise. 

    “If the best children’s theater amuses and engages adults as much as children, then Balagan Theatre’s world premiere … doesn’t make the grade. Still, the kids seemed to love it, and you can’t beat the ticket price—free—for the next three weekends in parks around the city.” 

    So thusly irked, I posted a link to the piece on Face Book along with the following note: “Ah the old, “children’s-theatre-must-also-equally-please-adults”  trope.  How tiresome it truly is.”

    In flooded the comments and quickly the discussion drifted, fueled at times by troll-power alone, to the larger question of whether theatres should feel free to stray from their missions in pursuit of general excellence. 

    Commenter  “I’m not sure why you’re advocating for being “middle of the road” and only pleasing your base. I want theater companies to make great theater.”

    Paul Mullin Why would a children’s theatre seek to have artistic viability outside of being a children’s theatre? That’s like asking a GLBT theatre to appeal to straight audiences. It’s confounding.

    Around and around we went, with narrowly scoped opinions glibly offered as evidence for the larger dismaying trends of Seattle Theatre.

    Commenter  You’re so niche-y! Every theater wants/needs an audience. Yeah, you go after your core demographic, but it also makes sense to go after OTHER demos as well. …. Consistently ONLY targeting one group is boring and not healthy for a theater, artistically or financially.

    Paul Mullin  Can you back this opinion up with any facts? Because it seems to me to be a pretty viable business plan to know your audience and target it…. And I would further maintain that it’s exactly when arts orgs seek to please the aesthetic intelligentsia that they start going off the rails.

    Commenter  Really? So Intiman/ACT/Seattle Rep should only produce shows that appeal to its supporter base, i.e. 65 year old, upper middle class retirees? Constant revivals of Neil Simon and Vanities and Dancing at Lughnasa? Isnt’ that why the big rep houses are dying…they’re aging along with the subscriber base?

    I was just about to beg off the merry-go-round for good when a long-time friend and colleague leaned in with some extremely crisp and compelling insights.

    Rebecca Olson*  This is going to be very shocking, but I actually agree wholeheartedly with Mullin on this one. First, we need to separate the idea that having a clear mission (ie: ensemble generated new work) means doing work that isn’t new/interesting/pushing the box. Having a clear mission is exactly what non-profit organizations are required to do, and what a lot of theaters in Seattle are lacking. What makes a theater excellent is consistently excellent work. Having a clear mission that you stand behind does not make that impossible, and having a broad non-mission (ie: “Our theater is here to make theater,”) does not mandate good work. However, history does seem to be teaching us that having both – a clear mission *and* producing consistently excellent work (ie: Wooden O Theater) creates a lasting organization.

    One of the most enlightening conversations I’ve had in my theatrical life was with the late (and very much missed) Melissa Hines, who described how when the Seattle theater scene was young, the “big” theaters (Rep, ACT, Intiman, Empty Space) each had clear missions, and filled specific niches. This is a broad generalization (so please don’t nitpick,) but basically the Rep did modern classics and newish but box office safe shows from Broadway, ACT was slightly more edgy but close to the Rep, filling in the summer season when the Rep was dark, the Intiman did classics, and Empty Space did brand new/quirky/edgy work. Audiences could subscribe to all four theaters and have a completely different experience at each theater; thus, there was no “competition” for audiences.

    However, at some point the Rep/ACT/Intiman theaters began spreading out and away from their original mission/focus, and all began to look alike (and the Empty Space closed.) As the big theaters homogenized, it became increasingly clear that moving away from their original missions was not allowing them opportunities to push the envelope and try new things. Instead, it was spreading them thin with too many choices and not enough structure; when one has the opportunity to select from the entire canon, from ancient Greece to modern classics to current new regional hits, to plays not yet written, seasons start to look like a dusty college textbook of “what plays are important for you to know about” rather than an exciting collection of stories for artists and audiences to explore together. 

    In addition, this homogenization encouraged audiences to pick one theater and ignore the other theaters; since one season mirrored another, there was no reason to subscribe to all three. This created the climate of competing for an audience.

    Finally, it alienated a lot of lifetime theatergoers, who were irritated at being constantly force fed something not to their liking. While some audiences want to see Shakespeare, others want edgy new work, and some want to modern American classics. Audiences began to feel obligated to watch something they didn’t enjoy because it was part of the season they had chosen to subscribe to. Instead of educating and challenging their audiences, over time it simply lost people completely.

    Thus the crux of my conversation with Melissa, was that to have organizations that last (which are part of an artistically healthy theatre community,) we need to ask our theaters to figure out what they do that is unique and fantastic, and then ask them to do only that, and do it consistently. For example, I would be disappointed if Strawshop decided to dust off “Guys and Dolls.” On the flip side, it seems natural that 5th Avenue produced “Guys and Dolls” this year –and I would be disappointed if 5th Ave decided to try their hand at “The Laramie Project.” It isn’t that these companies are doing every kind of theater all the time; it’s that they have found their niche, and they are filling it well with consistently interesting, artistically sound productions. If I want to see a good musical, I know where to go. If I want to see productions that are intensely creative and topical, I know where to go.

    I am not suggesting an organization become boxed in by a mission that is too confining to allow it to grow, develop and mature over time (ie: Our mission is to produce the plays of Paul Mullin.) I am suggesting that having a mission that is clear but not confining (ie: Our mission is to produce the plays of Northwest playwrights) gives artists/organizations a starting point and framework for choosing their seasons, and gives audiences a clear idea of why they might (or might not) be interested in attending. Missions such as “We want to produce interesting plays that challenge our audiences,” may feel like they allow for more options, but until the statement is so obvious as to be embarrassing (let us all assume that no theater is hoping to product uninteresting plays that bore their audiences), and gives no indication why exactly that organization exists, or what it is offering the community that other theaters are not already offering.

    And I am also not suggesting that artists be completely tied to the organizations they primarily work with; if I belonged to a company that produced new plays but I wanted to do an all female version of Hamlet with myself in the title role, I should either pitch the idea to a local classical company or self-produce.  And if the artistic director of a theater who produces classical worked decided that she wanted to direct a production of a new Paul Mullin play, I would encourage her to again, find a company doing new work to pitch the idea to, or self-produce. A non-profit organization’s responsibility is to serve the community – both the artistic community and the audience. If Seattle theatre history has taught us anything, it is that while sometimes fun for the artists who are involved, muddying the water of your organization’s mission and season with random, off point productions is confusing to your audiences and does not serve the organization in the long run.

    ***

    *Rebecca is an actress based in Seattle, performing with theaters throughout the region. She also has worked extensively as a fundraiser for the arts, both on staff and as a consultant to arts groups of all sizes, as well as a volunteer for several arts boards and committees.

  • Making “Nows” from Now Matters Too

    Making “Nows” from Now Matters Too

    Here’s another dirty secret for you: I am as essentially indifferent to theatre as the next 21st century adult.  I like it fine, but if you were to tell me I could never see another production of American Buffalo or Titus Andronicus, I’d find a way to somehow suck it up.  And even though I spent a good part of my youth as an actor, and managed to pay for what little college I got with a performance scholarship; and even though I still really enjoy doing it, if you were to tell me that I had some strange incurable disease, basically benign but which would strike me dead if I ever again strutted and fretted, I’d still somehow find a way to live the rest of my natural days in non-thespian peace.  But I experienced something Sunday that reminded me yet again that there is one aspect of theatre I cannot and will not give up.  So if you tried to tell me I couldn’t write another play for live performance, and I thought you meant it– well, you and I would have a bit of a war on our hands.

    My wife and my boys, ages nine and six, decided late Sunday afternoon to attend the opening performance of Balagan’s Theatre’s 2011 summer outdoor offering, King Arthur and the Knights of the Playground.  It was a perfect Seattle summer day, a rare enough jewel of deep greens and blues.  About a hundred and fifty of us, maybe more, gathered on the rich lawn behind the Asian Art Museum in Volunteer Park beneath some of the most glorious old trees you could ever hope to see.  There were friends, and friends of friends, and friends and family of cast members and crew, and just plain lovers of theatre, young and old; and we all watched some truly sublime goofiness with a wide open heart at its core. I wrote the section—one of five— called “The Ballad of Balin and Balan”, and based my interpretation of these two tragically fated brother-knights on the relationship of my own two sons.  Sitting there on a blanket with my mostly oblivious models, my heart was in my throat from the beginning of the piece, and I was embarrassed to have to wipe my eyes at the corny final scene:

    [They both fall to the ground, gasping.]

    BALAN:  You know what this means?

    BALIN:  We’re gonna die.

    BALAN:  Well, yeah, but something else.

    BALIN:  Yeah?  What?

    BALAN:  The curse said you would kill your best friend.

    BALIN:  Yeah.  So what?

    BALAN:  So that means I’m your best friend.  Curses can’t lie.

    BALIN:   Hey, yeah, that’s right.  And I’m your best friend.

    BALAN:  That’s right.

    BALIN:  Forever.

    It didn’t bother me one bit that my sons were more interested in the toy light sabers wielded by the actors than the fact that I had used their sweet, easy devotion to each other as my inspiration.  I’m pretty sure that if the real Richard III had a chance to see a modern Seattle production of Shakespeare’s play about him, he would be way more fascinated in the costumes, props and actual women on stage than in any resemblance to the biographical facts of his life.  (This is, by the way, another glorious feature of theatre.  We all see something deeply different.)  What blew me away was my own awareness of a profound and magical moment, wherein the very beauty of the earth seemed to host this collection of stories, as sweet and true and fresh as life itself; that my boys were watching grown men attempting to match the matchless nobility of love that children can hold for one another.  And I was part of it.  A very small, perfectly happy part of it.  And because my job was done, all I had to do was breathe and gratefully accept the moment knowing that I can have no idea what experiencing the moment might mean down the road for either of my boys, but suspecting there’s a good chance that it might mean something.

    Making plays matters.  Alas, I still have immense difficulty convincing many of my colleagues of this truth.  There’s a director in Seattle whose work I consistently admire who has maintained publicly more than once that he doesn’t believe we need any more new works for the stage because we will never have enough time or resources to produce all of the great plays that have already been written.  Many powerful decision makers in American Theatre agree, most implicitly, but some even explicitly, that the canon of theatrical literature is full: like the Bible, we cannot, should not, and even must not, add volumes to it.  I shake my head and smile at this notion, so apparently provable in the abstract, and yet so falsifiable by one deep blue green gorgeous Sunday afternoon in 
    Seattle’s Volunteer Park.

    Balan-Declan and Balin-Keelan

    Please forgive the geek metaphor, but if plays are algorithms—timeless software to be run on a particular time’s theatrical hardware (i.e. actors, sets, costumes, props, lighting and sound designs and, yes, even directorial concepts), then I want some of those future algorithms to be from my time.  Put more simply, if plays are “nows” thrown forward into “then”, then I need to believe that some of those “then-nows” will be from this now, if only so my sons’ daughters might know something of how wonderful their fathers were to each other when they were boys.

  • Another Step in the Right Direction from ACT

    Another Step in the Right Direction from ACT

    One of the most vital infrastructural components of World Class theatre towns like London and New York completely missing in otherwise vibrant theatre towns like Los Angeles and Seattle, is the intra-city play pipeline: a means for moving, within a given city, successful shows from smaller venues to larger ones so that they can reach more people and, yes, make more money.  With its announcement that it will be bumping up the recent hit Dr. Horrible’s Sing-Along Blog from its birthplace at Balagan Theatre on Capitol Hill to the Allen Theater space at A Contemporary Theatre in the heart of downtown Seattle, ACT seems to be indicating its willingness to attempt opening just such a pipeline.  And as much as it might pain a perpetual complainer to give credit where credit is due, this is by no means the first time in the last few years that ACT has taken a bold step.

    While Intiman flails about trying to figure out how to stay alive, and the Seattle Rep continues to… well, do whatever the hell it believes it’s doing  (Really?  Dancing with Lughnasa is so burningly urgent that you need to stage it every fifteen years?),  ACT has, under the artistic leadership of Kurt Beattie, and the entrepreneurial vision of Carlo Scandiuzzi, charged forward with innovation and risk-taking with an eye towards reaping the significant rewards that taking such risks can bring.  By introducing such novel programs as the Central Heating Lab and the ACTPass, maintaining the success of the Young Playwrights Program,  and nurturing informal partnerships with promising groups like New Century Theatre, Awesome and now Balagan, just to name a few, ACT has managed to do something few regional theatres anywhere can honestly claim: it actually lives up to its hypey catch phrase: “ACT: A Theatre of New Ideas”, and as a result, seems to be positioning itself to dominate Seattle’s theatre scene by creating an eclectic, constantly brimming shopping center of performance in the gorgeous historic old Eagles Building right next door to the Washington State Convention center.

    Apparently for now, of the Three Bigs, only ACT believes that Seattle really can be a World Class theatre town and that one of its LORT houses really can take steps to make that happen.  Now, will ACT keep it up?  In the past they have let crucial programs such as FirstACT and FringeACT die while they strived to stay alive.  The pressure of success is an all-together different beast than the pressure of failure.  Can they keep moving forward when expectations for their operations begin to rise beyond simple survival?  Can they keep taking chances even when some risks will inevitably reap failure?

    Golly, I hope so.  And what’s more, I’m really starting to believe it.