A Burlesque Show

playwriting

by Cynthia Wands

Some weeks back, I went with a group of friends to a burlesque show to see a “vintage” performance of the art of burlesque dance.

I’d seen burlesque represented in lots of plays and movies, I just have never seen one in the flesh, as it were.

It was a very interesting form of storytelling:  the women were dressed in rather cheesy vintage outfits, (lots of feathers flying around) and created characters who seemed funny, sly, clever and for the most part, naked. I’d never seen pasties on a woman before, and they looked…odd. It just was strange to see a woman’s breast, and so much focus on looking at a woman’s breast, but then the nipple had to be covered up. With pasties. Very odd.

The emcee was a very charismatic performer, crooning away, winking at the crowd, with a terribly sophisticated and bored persona. The crowd was very young, as in late twenties, early thirties (I seem to see a much older audience in the plays I see here in Los Angeles).  And they seemed to have great fun: lots of laughter and joking and carrying on.

I’m still amazed at the graciousness and generosity of the dancers – they really included the audience in their form of tribal dance (“opps, I lost my clothes” kind of tribal dance), but they conveyed a kind of self that I really admired. And it was great to see a part of Los Angeles culture that I had never seen before.

Exotic Dancer

 

 

 

 

 

 

Equity Waiver Wars

playwriting

by Cynthia Wands

I remember when I worked in San Francisco as an actor, yes, in the 1980’s, and there were the “Equity” and the “Non-Equity” theater wars. This was during a period of time when Equity Waiver contracts were being negotiated for the smaller San Francisco houses, and a non-union organization, BATWA, wanted to be part of the dialogue. (BATWA stood for “Bay Area Theater Workers Association”.)  I was a member of Actors’ Equity Association (AEA) and I was a member of BATWA.  There were yelling, screaming sessions with small theater managers and actors and playwrights. I remember that it did not end well. Thank God those days are over.

I ended my membership in AEA in the 1990’s, for many reasons, but especially after attending some of the Los Angeles area AEA meetings.  (Yes, there were more of those yelling, screaming sessions  that did not end well. This time between AEA members and AEA union officials. I remember thinking when I left those meetings for the last time: Thank God those days are over.) And now here we are, in 2015, with a similar conflict going on in the theater community once again.  In this Bitter Lemons article, you’ll find some of this yelling and screaming behavior still going on in the comment sections:

Bitter Lemons: Just a National AEA Councillor and a Los Angeles AEA Member Having a Friendly Conversation…

In the past few weeks I’ve been following the conflict and the articles and the calls to action:

Stage Scene LA: 99 Seat Plan in Jeopardy

The Huffington Post: A Love Letter Wake Up Call

Backstage: Equity Fires Back at LA Theater Critics

There are so many real and passionate issues to be considered in this conflict: I wish the noise of it all could be voiced without the mud slinging and fury.

Ballots for the vote on the plan will be mailed to the AEA members on March 25. The ballots will need to be returned by April 17, and the union’s council will make a final decision on the new 99-seat plan April 21.  I’m no longer an AEA member, so I won’t be voting on this issue, but I can see that this new plan will affect the future of how theater is produced here in Los Angeles. I might not be saying Thank God those days are over.

Crystal Globe

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I hate conflict…wait…um…I hate…um…indecision…

playwriting
Artwork by Catrin Welz-Stein
Artwork by Catrin Welz-Stein

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

by Cynthia Wands

This has been a difficult period of time for Los Angeles area Equity waiver theatre.  There have been very emotional, bitter and articulate messages from the union members about keeping waiver theatre at it’s current structure. There have been notices and interviews from Equity members about the need for new financial realities. And I hate it.  I hate it because of the bickering, disrespect and hysterical name calling. I hate it because, frankly, I hate conflict. Not a good thing if you’re an artist. Or an actor. Or a writer. Because I know that conflict is necesary for growth, comedy, negotiating, and change. Yeah. I know all that. I just hate the divisiveness and angst that seems to implode this particular issue.

So I’m going to share something completely different from the ongoing saga of the Equity Waiver War here in Los Angeles Theatre. It’s an interview with Kathleen Marshall, and here is her closing quote on the article that appeared in THE INTERVAL:
What’s something you think people can do to improve gender parity in theatre?

 I think that one of our responsibilities as women working in theatre is to give opportunities to other women working in theatre. And that can be in all kinds of ways. That can be having them as an assistant or observing on a show. Supporting other women who are artists, which could mean just going to their shows and being a positive presence in other people’s lives. I believe that good work is the best way to promote yourself and if you create good work that, hopefully, is also successful then that will be what gets you noticed.

http://the-interval.com/ints/km/

 

 

 

The Self Production Series with Anna Nicholas: #7 Choosing Your Director…

LAFPI, Playwright, Production, , ,

# 7.  Choosing your Director

by Guest Blogger Anna Nicholas

When a playwright finds her ideal director, she finds the person who doesn’t just “get” her play but has a vision of where the play could go beyond what the playwright imagined, someone who will interpret the script and add something to it. That’s my take. Some playwrights, however, simply want a director to follow their script, without changing or embellishing—someone who won’t get too “creative.”

This is where having some self-awareness is vital. Are you the type who wants a say in every aspect of getting your play to the stage? If so, consider directing the play yourself. Alan Ayckbourn, the English playwright, built a theatre so he could direct his own plays. Maybe he’s a control freak or maybe he simply enjoys directing. Some people think he does a fine job with his own plays but more than a few directors I know (of course they’re directors) say people other than Ayckbourn direct Ayckbourn better than Ayckbourn directs Ayckbourn. The point is, you can save yourself some angst if you can figure out how much you’re willing to let go before you hire someone. Granted, this is determined, to large extent, on whom you get to direct your play and how much you are able to trust them with your creation. If someone with the reputation of a Dan Sullivan or Emma Rice wants to direct, it might be easier to hand off artistic control but how many of us in low-budget theatre can afford these folks? That is if they’d even deign to read our plays. There’s nothing to be lost by trying for your ideal choice but the simple challenge for most of us is finding a director you can work with and trust, whom you can also afford.

Start your search for a director by seeing a lot of plays produced in your geographic region, particularly those of a similar genre to your play. If you have money to bring someone in from outside that’s fine but see their work, talk to other playwrights and actors about the reputations of prospective directors and filter those opinions based on reviews, genre of play and budget. Once you’ve found some prospects, contact them and ask if you can send your play. If the prospects act like they don’t have time for you, they’re probably not right. In my case, a few directors I contacted just ignored me and that told me something about them too. Another place to look for a director is at local universities, which offer a MFA in Directing or Performance Arts. A recent graduate might be thrilled at the opportunity to direct a new play.

Once a few directors have read your play, meet with each of them and find out what their work process is. Some don’t want the playwright around. Some, like the director of Villa Thrilla, wanted me at every rehearsal. At a talk back with Jonathan Tolins, the author of Buyer & Cellar, I asked him this very question. And he said he sits in on rehearsals for the first week, during read-throughs and character work to answer any questions and then he goes away unless the actors or someone else on the production has a problem. He says the director and actors need time to bitch and moan about the play without fear of offending the writer. Also, not being at all the rehearsals gives him time to write.

Discuss the budgets and ideas for Set Design, Costume, Lighting and Sound. Often directors will have people they’ve worked with in the past and sometimes they are able to get key designers to lower their rates.

What you pay a director is between you and the person you hire. It’s a negotiation like any other and the pay range can be anywhere from $500 to $4000 depending on the schedule and how much work is expected. Some directors are members of the SDC (union) so their rates are set. In other cases, you might form a partnership with someone you honestly like and respect, whom you can see working with for the long haul and giving up a piece of the pie, as it were, and avoid another cash expense. If you decide to do this, however, I’d advise, building into the contract, a buy-out fee, should it turn out you were wrong about that partnership. Beware the director who gets big ideas about expensive things your show needs after you’re already in rehearsal. Ideally you can avoid this by talking things through ahead of time and by finding out a director’s reputation prior to hiring him or her.

All in, your director needs to be keen on directing your play. His or her personality should mesh with yours while at the same time remaining distinct. Putting on a play is a collaboration and, in a way, like a short-term marriage. Spend time researching and choosing your partner and you should have a great working experience.

Next up: Do you need a Casting Director?

Why I write

Performance, Play, race

by Jennifer Bobiwash

Writing is usually a solitary event and sometimes I forget about the rest of the world.  This week I was reminded of why, after terrible procrastination, I write.  I left my cave of solitude, to be surrounded by creative people breathing life into the characters and stories of playwrights.   A show closing, Inner Circle Theatre’s “The Doll” by Miro Gavran, and a show opening, Native Voices at the Autry’s “Off the Rails” by Randy Reinholz.  As the show starts, I sit in the back of the theater listening as the audiences laugh or “ooo’d and ahh’d”.  After the show, I watch as people discuss the show they’ve just seen.  It is Sunday night and I am reflecting on why I need to continue writing.

After a successful reading of my first solo show, “There is no I in NDN“, I was done.  My story finally written and performed, I could put it to bed.  But then I was asked to perform it.  I said yes, without a second thought.  It wasn’t until I was polishing up the piece, that fear once again began to set in.  As an actor you take the words in front of you and give them life.  But as the playwright, I know where these words come from.   They may not be the full version of the story, but as I write, the whims and fancy that fill my characters lives may have some truth to them.  And this frightens me.   How will it be received?  Will people get “it”?  Will they get me?

I say all this as I am trying to complete a second half to my solo show.  To delve further into the mind of an off-reservation Indian and her continued struggle with identity.     I am bringing back a character that I had to cut from part one.  His name is Pooley.  When I first began writing his voice, he was to be my bad guy, spouting all the ugly, negative things that are wrong with the world.  But then as he spoke to my main character, I found the truth in his story, their shared story and all the ugly things I imagined him saying melted away.    He sits on his well worn stool at the end of the bar, his back to wall, his eyes on the door.  As he sips his tall glass of whiskey, he narrates tales of the life he left behind.  The dark pinched leather door creaks open, and as sunlight pours in, the regulars at the bar shield their eyes.  Pooley jokes with the bartender he knows all too well.  This is his home now.

It’s not a traditional story, there are no headdresses and ceremonies.  He could be anyone, he just happens to be native.  Working with Native Voices, I am reassured of why the story is important.   The lack of stories that speak to an entire population, inspires me to continue.

So, I write.

The glamour of producing

Production

by Jennifer Bobiwash

These first few months of this year have proven to have made an exciting year so far.  If you’ve read my bio you saw that I call myself an accidental producer.  I say accidental because it was never something I sought out for myself.  I realized early on in my entertainment career, that if I wanted to be seen as a particular type, I would have to do it myself if Hollywood couldn’t see it.  I never thought of that as producing, it was just something I had to get done.  After that, projects just seemed to find me.  I have had the opportunity to work on non-conventional theater projects and because of my love of social media, I end up wearing several different hats over the course of the production.  The theater gods mock me though.  The first 2 months of this year have already pooped mecheering-concert-dancing-sml out.  When saying yes to project, I look at my schedule and never double book myself.  But as the production world goes, changes happen on a dime and my events thus far seem to launch or end at the same time.   I have had to hone my time management skills to ensure that the indiegogo campaign information went out on time (yes, we reached our goal) as I tried to drum up an audience for opening night, while trying to figure out the audition dates for the second production of the season.  It does certainly make for an interesting day, as well as a better understanding of what you need to do as an actor.  The actor in me can now appreciate when a project opens and people are in the audience or even that I get paid.  I understand the single-mindedness of the actor, because that’s what you want to do with your life, why would you concern yourself with the rest of your work environment, and the trials and tribulations of other’s jobs in your “office”?  But these past two months have given me more insight into the variety of personalities that exist on a set.  The bad thing about how I work is that I have no concept of job description boundaries and working with new people makes for an interesting first day.

I would continue on with my plight but I need to get to dress rehearsal for a show that opens this weekend, as I try to squeeze out a few last tweets about my other show closing.

This is the glamorous life.  I love this business!

If you’re a producer reading this, leave a comment on what your job description is.

Big Miigz!

The Quest for Conflict

Female Artists, LAFPI, Play, Playwright, playwriting, Theatre, , , , , ,

by Kitty Felde

It’s the first thing we learn about drama: conflict is the engine that drives the train. So why is it so hard for some writers (ME!) to create and intensify conflict?

The truth is, I don’t like torturing these wonderful characters I’ve created. And I don’t like conflict in real life.

It’s not that I roll over and give up. Instead, I analyze the situation, try to charm my way out of it, win the other person over to my side. I’ll even fight back when I’m mad enough.

If I look at myself as a protagonist, I AM taking action. But it’s not very interesting to an audience.

My most produced play “A Patch of Earth” was all about conflict: a 20-something kid Drazen Erdemovic who found himself in an impossible situation, forced to make an impossible choice. I didn’t create that conflict. It was handed to me on a silver platter, testimony from the International Criminal Tribunal for the former Yugoslavia. It was his story, the story of a Bosnian Serb who served on all sides during the war, finding himself in a corn field outside Srebrenica, learning how to shoot large numbers of people in a short period of time. He didn’t want to do it and told his commander he wouldn’t shoot. “Then stand up with them and we’ll shoot you,” he was told. “And then we’ll go to your village and shoot your wife and young son.” The audience is put into that impossible situation, asking themselves what would THEY do? And arguing about what the just punishment would be for someone who confessed to killing “no more than 70” of the twelve hundred people killed in that cornfield, yet was the first person to tell the outside world about the massacre at Srebrenica.

But what do you do when you don’t have a civil war to create conflict?

It always comes back to the question: “what does my character want?”

If that “want” is small potatoes, nobody cares. It’s got to be important enough to the character to face all odds, go the distance, sacrifice anything, to achieve the goal. It’s got to survive the “so what?” test. If the main character doesn’t get what she wants, so what? The sun will come up tomorrow morning, babies will continue to be born, tea will still take 3-5 minutes to steep.

This is the challenge of a romantic comedy I’ve been fighting with for months. The “so what?” test. So what if Betsy doesn’t get the big story? Does she lose her job? Lose the guy? And if her “want” is so small, why should we care about her? Why should anyone pay $15 (let alone $115!) to see a show where the stakes are undefined? Why should they emotionally invest in a character who’s wants are just “meh”?

It’s time for me as a writer to become brave enough to torture my characters. Give Betsy impossible odds. Trying to overcome those odds will give her more backbone, give her action that will propel the action forward. She’ll survive. (After all, that is the rule of comedy: everyone lives happily ever after.) But make her earn that happy ending.

I suppose that’s the same message to me, the writer: make this play worth the struggle to write it and write it well so that I can earn my happy ending – otherwise known as “end of play.”

The Self Production Series with Anna Nicholas: #6 The Where…

LAFPI, Playwright, Production, , , ,

#6. The Where — Selecting a Venue

by Guest Blogger Anna Nicholas

To many a playwright, choosing where her play gets produced is no more difficult than selecting a brand of toilet paper. She thinks all she has to do is get her play on a stage and people will come. Maybe this is true when she’s in her 20s and, possibly, 30s but soon after, just like forgoing that sixth story walk-up apartment, she needs to think about the experience she’s asking people to endure.

The sheer act of putting on a play is not going to put butts in seats—at least not for any sort of extended run beyond which point your friends refuse to drive 60 miles in 2nd gear traffic to see your show again. Where you put your show up is important. On the other hand, IF you can get a great review by the mainstream press of your no-name-cast experimental comic melodrama having a run in an abandoned missile silo in Chatsworth, yeah, you might get an audience and I take it all back. One good thing about Chatsworth is there’s lots of free parking. But I digress…sort of.

I selected my space the way a bride’s mother might choose a wedding venue so it’s a good thing I had a son. There were a lot of considerations. I wanted lots of free, safe and easy parking, I wanted clean bathrooms and separate dressing rooms for men and women. I wanted the theatre to be close to people who might come. Pretty simple criteria, right? Wrong. You cannot believe all the tiny, uncomfortable (for both cast and audience) rentable spaces there are in LA located in areas you wouldn’t want to walk at three in the afternoon! And you will be walking because there’s no parking. When I go see a show, I don’t want part of my theatre experience to include hoping somebody will pull away from the curb within five blocks of the theatre. Unfortunately in LA, mass transit is difficult at best so the reality is people drive and need to put their cars somewhere while they see your show. You may think I’m being overly picky but I’m not alone. Part of the reason Elin Hampton selected the Greenway Arts Theatre for her Bells of West 87th was because there’s a dedicated parking lot and good bathrooms!

And there are other things to consider:

—How large a playing area do you need? For Villa Thrilla, we wanted a stage with height and breadth to create the illusion of a grand, 2-story house. But perhaps if we’d been more creative, we could have reimagined it. I’m thinking about Alan Aykbourne’s play, Taking Steps, which is set in a 3-story structure but in the playing of it, the actors never climb a stair.

—Can you rehearse in the performance space? For actors, being able to rehearse on the stage they’ll be performing on makes them more comfortable and often saves time not having to adjust after rehearsing in your apartment for a month. But this is a luxury and can increase the budget substantially. I do recommend trying to load in at least 10 days prior to opening so everyone can get comfortable.

—Will you be sharing the theatre with others either during the day/evening when you’re not using it?

This isn’t a huge deal but it can present scheduling headaches if the space is booked solid with classes, meetings and the like and you need more rehearsal than you bargained for. Try to negotiate to “own” the space 10 days prior to opening for whatever might come up.

—How big do you want your “house”? Obviously, theatres with fewer seats are easier to fill. In fact I’m convinced one theatre company in town creates madness around its shows because there are only 29 seats. They always get to say “Sold Out!” Yes you’ll bring in less money but better to sell all of those 29 seats than sell only 29 in a 99-seat house.

As you start thinking about where to do your play, draw up a priority list of what is most important to you and your prospective audience. There will be tradeoffs—easy parking vs. lousy bathrooms; getting to rehearse in the space vs. far from your hoped-for audience. Thinking through what you want will help focus your search and decide what’s most critical for you. Start by approaching theatres/ theatre companies you like and ask them if they rent space. Many do. Getting the choice 6-week slots will be costly ($1500-$2500/week) but sometimes you can get a deal for a weekend or two, sandwiched between the larger productions. I’ve known ambitious playwrights for whom this scenario has worked well. They have been able to generate buzz over a short run and use it to move their shows to bigger, better theatres.

Often, when a show is successful, where it’s being performed truly doesn’t matter to most. “They” will come. But why not choose a venue that will give your show the best chance of becoming successful with the resources you have? Don’t be afraid to negotiate for the deals you want. Life is a negotiation and you’re an artist. Negotiate creatively.

Next Week: Finding your Director

Modeling my addiction

playwriting

How I write: In spurts. But, always, I am writing. And, always I am composing in my mind, if not performing the physical act of writing itself. It is my perfect sickness because I ache when I am too long away from it. I grapple with this addiction. I push it aside because I love my other work. Even so, I eventually listen to it, because if I don’t it springs into life anyway, into some type of form, and it’s better when I direct it’s being. Take a juicy apple. Bite off a larger piece than you can easily handle.

Don’t wait for somebody to tell you it’s okay. Just chew.

And, so, it grows.

playwriting

By Erica Bennett

 

I. I know my life will end

Like my voices told me,

At twenty when I first learned

Someday, I’d die.

 

II. They came upon me

While bathing, like Undine

Rising from the waters

In search of her soul.

 

III. They stayed to taunt me,

Leading me forward and beside,

Never showing me a clear path,

But, a gravel road instead.

 

IV. I couldn’t decipher their intent

In my youth, yet my compass led me

Beyond the sandstone blocks

Of Southern California.

 

V. I drove north westerly,

Made the city my own.

Down Santa Monica Boulevard

In a hazy orange VW dreamscape.

 

VI. I stayed, maybe fifteen years.

And then, waited five more

For the cancer to leave me

Before I rode those voices hard.

 

VII. I find myself now

Aged distinctively by the sun,

My face a craggy coastline,

No cream can soften the blow.

 

VIII. Yet, I fear not this time.

I have not faded.

And hot pink streaks my hair,

No ma’am am I.

 

IX. My voices speak lively words

Inside my head

Not that I could distinguish them

Until those twenty years went by,

 

X. When I finally put pen to paper

Fingertips to keyboard

And spoke their words aloud

For the first time.

 

XI. It was then I heard

The interior life of an aging,

Overweight ingénue, ripen with age.

Growing ever more bold and imperfect.

 

XII. And, I introduced myself

To Angry Old Woman,

Whose guttural English and sailor mouth

Belie a golden heart.

 

XIII. I’ve always wondered

Where the nasty comes from…

But, as long as I let her speak,

Her words on paper, no one is hurt.

 

XIV. There is separation in ink

That the spoken word cannot penetrate.

It is as if evidence of worth

Is only in the recording of them.