Category Archives: Theaters

World Premiere: A Subtle Kind of Murder

December 22, 2025Female Artists, Feminism, Playwright, playwriting, Theaters, Womenfemale playwrightsAlison Minami

When others demand that we become the people they want us to be, they force us to destroy the person we really are. It’s a subtle kind of murder. —Jim Morrison

The play A Subtle Kind of Murder written by Dale Dunn had its world premiere at the New Mexico Actors Lab this past summer, and it has just been nominated for the Broadway World Awards in the categories of Best New Play, Best Director, Best Supporting Actor, Best Ensemble Acting, Best Scenic Design, Best Lighting Design, and Best Production! This achievement could not make me happier or be more inspiring for myself as a fellow playwright who offered feedback in the early stages of writing. I had the pleasure of being a part of Jennie Webb’s Next Draft Workshop with Dale back in 2021, reading early drafts of the script when the sinewy musculature hadn’t been fully realized and the thematic threads were not neatly tied. It is always satisfying to see a play come together after being a part of its developmental process. Dale knew clearly what she wanted to write about, but there was a lot of metaphor and symbolism within the overlapping worlds she was creating, especially tied to the multimedia aspect of her piece that needed shaping. What I remembered most about her play was that it was deeply feminist, and it spoke to the relentless sexism and abuse of young women who are trying to make something of themselves professionally. While I did not get to see the production, I reached out to Dale to read the latest production copy of the play. I’ve now just read it, and all I can say is that it leaves a reader breathless! I can only imagine what it was like to have a seat in the darkened theater. Five years in the making, and the final script is simultaneously heartbreaking, gut-punching and, dare I say, hopeful.

A Subtle Kind of Murder is a play seeded by a confluence of ideas (and worlds) that are all thematically tied to living as a woman in a sexually predatory patriarchy. Jane, an acclaimed novelist, has been hired to write a screenplay adaptation of the 1947 noir murder mystery novel In a Lonely Place by Dorothy B. Hughes. Under deadline to finish the script, Jane sequesters herself in her childhood home, a remote Kansas farmhouse with the Filmmaker, her staunch but strict motivator who encourages Jane to stay focused and get the job done. However, the two are unexpectedly interrupted by the Woman in Brown, a young, bright-eyed woman who stumbles into the farmhouse after being followed by the Man in the Hat. The Man in the Hat, a shadowy figure whose voice and presence is felt by all the women, but never materializes until play’s end, doubles as the serial killer from Hughes’ novel and the bigtime executive who once sexually assaulted Jane in a Hollywood studio, when she was once a young, naïve assistant, whose dreams of making it big in the industry were killed from the humiliating transgression. Not coincidentally, Jane’s current writing contract is with the same Hollywood executive who assaulted her decades before; he does not recognize her because she’s taken on the pen name Jane Franklin, after Ben Franklin’s sister, a woman who never got an education nor a fair shot while her brother was given every resource to become the famous intellectual, inventor, and founding father. So, it’s fair to say, Jane has something to prove and an axe to grind.

As the play progresses, we start to gather that the Woman in Brown, like the Man in the Hat, doubles as the murder victim in the Hughes novel as well as the younger version of Jane. She is, as Jane describes her, “the young woman who had the nerve to think of the world as her oyster.” Both the Woman in Brown and the Filmmaker are versions of Jane at different stages of her life. They serve as figments of her imagination as she is haunted by the chilling veil of a man’s rapaciousness while she fights to claim her agency as a woman and an artist. Jane references her own acclaimed novel, which is the same title as this play, by describing a subtle kind of murder as the “the murder of the self.” Jane goes on to say “The subtle kind of murder leaves you in a sort of tortured half life….dazed…powerless…often fighting shame and regret.” As the three women argue over Jane’s chosen pen name, she declares “Jane. It’s every woman’s name.” Here is the crux of the play for me. Aren’t we women all Jane? Even in 2025, when there is lip service paid toward a #MeToo movement that holds powerful men accountable, it seems that for every jailed Weinstein, Cosby, or Epstein, there is another man lurking in the shadows, ready to decimate a woman as, in Dale’s words, “just another girl in the office.” Ultimately, as Dale describes, the play is about “self-forgiveness.” She says, “there are so many Why didn’t I?’s in life.” She is quick to answer the question: “Well, you didn’t, and it’s okay. You have to look at it. And then leave it.” She goes on to explain, “Jane is confronting her past, the assault that made her turn away from her ambitions, and she needs to see it for what it is in order to move past it and do the creative work she is meant to do.” The pain of regret and humiliation is suffocating, and it consumes so many victims of assault. But it’s not just physical assault that women contend with, it’s the multitude of micro-aggressions that tell us to behave, to please, to keep quiet, to wait our turn, to act right, to apologize, to shrink, to cower, and on and on and on. A woman must permit herself to reject it all, to say no, to get out from under the patriarchal power.

Dale Dunn, Playwright and Co-Artistic Director of Just Say It Theater

The play is a multi-media performance that utilizes film projection and sound to tell its story. Dale has a lot of experience using projections in her staged works. She sees it as a theatrical tool to serve as “an extension of the mind” and to be “inside the writer’s [Jane’s] mind” as opposed to being a place setter. Throughout the play there is the projection of Jane’s text as it is being typed, the thunderous and chilling projection of the ocean—the place where the Woman in Brown is found murdered—and of the diner into which the Woman in Brown escapes. All of the stage design and multimedia lends itself to the mirrored and mysterious worlds characteristic of the noir genre.

Dale herself is no newbie to the theater. She has worked in theaters across the nation including the Public Theater in New York and the Red Barn Theater in Key West. She co-founded her own theater in New Mexico called Just Say It Theater and has years of teaching experience in both playwriting and production at New Mexico School for the Arts. Her longtime theater partner, Lynn Goodwin served as both the dramaturg and director of A Subtle Kind of Murder, which explains the synergy, flexibility, experimentation, and care that the ensemble carried throughout the developmental process from table read to production.

I asked Dale whether or not she had a recording of the piece that I could view; Sadly, she didn’t have anything, only a muffled and grainy recording that wouldn’t do the play justice. At first, I felt that this was disappointing, but I also realize it’s sort of the point. Nothing can replace the ephemeral magic of theatre. I truly hope A Subtle Kind of Murder gets another production; It’s a play that every Jane (and John) should see.

East West Players in Good Hands: Meet Lily Tung Crystal

October 6, 2025Director, Female Artists, LAFPI, Performance, Play, Playwright, playwriting, Production, Theaters, Theatre, WomenArtistic Director, Artists At Play LA, Asian American Theater, East West Players, female directors, female playwrights, Los Angeles Theatre Center, Theater MuAlison Minami

By Alison Minami

Lily Tung Crystal, artistic director of East West Players in Little Tokyo of Los Angeles, has made a full circle back to Southern California. While the path may have been unconventional and circuitous, every place she’s had the pleasure of making home along her artistic journey has contributed to her role as a thoughtful and influential leader in the Asian American theatre community.

Lily’s first stage was the raised fireplace of her childhood home in Rancho Palos Verdes. She’d use the handle of the fireplace screen pulley as her microphone and sing the showstoppers she’d learned from outings with her mother to the Pantages or the Ahmanson. Having once been a competitive dancer and carrying a natural ear for music, Lily’s mother held a deep appreciation for the arts and passed this on to her daughter. At the age of seven, Lily began taking singing and piano, which ultimately led her to musical theater—roles in Oliver, The Sound of Music, The Wizard of Oz to name a few. Despite being one of the better singers, Lily never got the lead, possibly because the directors couldn’t square Lily’s Asian face with the traditional white casting of these shows. At the time, representation was barely a conversation, and it never dawned on Lily that she could ever see her onstage talents as anything more than a hobby.

After graduating Cornell University, Lily moved to China to work as both an educator and a journalist. All the while she kept her hand in the theatre—but mostly as an avocation, something to keep her creative spirit nurtured. Eventually Lily made her way back to her home state of California, but this time to San Francisco, where she found herself joining community theatre and acting classes. Even as she was immersing herself in the Bay Area theatre scene, she never considered herself a professional actress despite joining the union and landing significant onstage roles. Claiming the identity was a slow process, and Lily recalls herself thinking, “Maybe I can say I’m an actor now. Can I really say that?” Asking for permission is an all too familiar refrain for artists in the shadows, especially those of color—I certainly have had my fair share of imposter syndrome around my creative life—but once Lily gave it to herself and said YES, there was no holding her back.

In 2009 Lily received a Theatre Bay Area Titan Award, which led her to start the Bay Area Asian American Actors Collective, where she found kinship with fellow actor Leon Goertzen. A year later the two co-founded Ferocious Lotus, an Asian American theatre company in the San Francisco Bay Area. As it turns out, in one year, Lily birthed a theatre company and a baby! She remembers sitting in rehearsals for their first show—a night of one-acts co-sponsored by the Asian American Theatre Company—with her infant strapped in a baby carrier. I am particularly delighted by this image in my mind’s eye—a scrappy and determined young Lily with a script in one hand and a bottle in another, baby nuzzled up against her body—as it demonstrates the grit and passion that Lily has always brought to her work. With Lily at the helm as founding co-artistic director and later, artistic director, Ferocious Lotus went on to produce and support many emerging Asian American playwrights and artists and became a vibrant and influential theatre space with national recognition and reach.

In 2019, Lily moved on from Ferocious Lotus to become artistic director at Theater Mu, the premiere Asian American theatre of the Midwest based in Minneapolis. There Lily continued to grow the landscape of Asian American theatre and stretch the boundaries of definition and opportunity, always striving for diversity and equity in development, education, production, and outreach. Five years later in 2024, Lily found herself back in Southern California, the stomping ground of her youth, taking on the role of Artistic Director at East West Players (EWP).

EWP is the longest standing Asian American theatre and theatre of color in the nation, and Lily is ushering in its 60^th anniversary. Honored by the task, she was particularly mindful of the curation of such a milestone season, aiming to create balance between the OGs of Asian American theatre–the elders like Philip Kan Gotanda and David Henry Hwang, who laid the foundation when there was no Asian American representation to speak—and the next generation of playwrights, like Lauren Yee, Prince Gomolvilas, and Jaclyn Backhaus, who have created works that have become Asian American classics in their own right.

In what she coins a “widening circles” vision for EWP, Lily focuses on several values that undergird her goals. Think of the concentric circles in the frequency of sound waves. In the first circle, Lily wants to encompass as much of the Asian American diaspora as possible. While Asian American representation in the theatre has historically limited itself to East Asian cultures, Lily recognizes the need for wider visibility for all Asians American voices including those from South, Southwest, and Southeast Asian American communities. Her second circle aims to acknowledge all the creativity and labor of the people backstage. What of the set and sound designers, costumers, and stagehands? Lily is doing just this by inaugurating a fellowship for backstage artists, where recipients will get paid on-the-job training to learn firsthand the behind-the-scenes work of production. The third circle aims to address intersectionality with other marginalized communities— LGBTQ, disability, or specific racialized communities to name a few examples. The fourth circle—and there’s some overlap here, but that’s the point—considers the question of how we make theater accessible to all people. EWP has made moves to make the theatre more affordable with $20 tickets or pay-what-you-can performances as well as affinity evenings for specific audiences. For example, for Cambodian Rock Band by Lauren Yee, EWP worked with Khmer leaders in Los Angeles to ensure that the show could be accessible to Khmer audiences; it stands to reason that a play about a people should be viewed and experienced by them, or else, whom and what is it really for? The final circle aims to innovate alongside and in collaboration with the film and television industry. A great example is in this season’s revival production of Philip Kan Gotanda’s Yankee Dawg You Die, which utilized high level film projections to capture the old-timey feel of Hollywood circa 1930s.

Notwithstanding all the managerial and administrative duties that come with leading a theatre of EWP’s size and stature, Lily has found space to nurture her own creative projects. This springtime, she will direct a revival of David Henry Hwang’s Flower Drum Song for this season’s last show. This is especially exciting for Lily who has known Hwang for years as a mentor and friend—and whose name is on the EWP theatre—but has never collaborated with him artistically. Hwang is also updating the musical after first rewriting it in 2002 to be more relevant to the times—Oh the times! Combine that with Lily’s musical theatre sensibility, and the show promises to be a tour de force.

The show runs from October 19 through November 16 at the Los Angeles Theatre Center.

Secondly, as I write this, Lily is completing her first tech week as director for नेहा & Neel (pronounced Neha and Neel) written by playwright Ankita Raturi and produced by Artists at Play. नेहा & Neel is about an Indian immigrant mother who goes on a road trip with her teenage son, in a last-ditch attempt to teach him his culture before he is off to college. Raturi’s play resists preachy polemics and instead engages with serious issues—racism, colonialism, identity in America—through humor. In another serendipitous collaboration, Lily found herself crossing paths again with Raturi, an artist she’d supported during her tenure at Theater Mu, but whose new work Fifty Boxes of Earth, which Lily programmed for Mu’s 2024-2025 season, she did not get to see to its fruition because of her departure last year. So, it was an honor to be asked by AAP and Raturi to direct this piece and to celebrate, as Lily describes, a play that centers on “Asian joy.”

Given the current political climate and the blatant assaults from this administration on people of color and the arts—EWP lost all its NEA funding—Lily does not take lightly the mandate of EWP. She says, “It is more important than ever to continue to tell our stories and to lift up BIPOC stories. When people don’t know our stories, it’s so easy for them to perceive us as other.” She goes on to emphasize how important it is that “people see us for the true Americans that we are.” Everywhere we turn, this administration is pushing us to the margins, rendering us invisible as people of color, and telling us in so many words that “we are not patriotic or don’t belong here.” Lily is adamant that we counter the bigotry with our own narratives of community. She is committed to making EWP a “safe and joyful space to create art together” and it is with this spirit that Lily carries the torch for many generations of Asian American theatre artists—past, present, and future.

Finally, when I ask Lily, how she likes being back in Southern California outside of work, she quips, “the traffic sucks, the food’s great!” And to that I say, “Welcome home!”

The FPI Files: SheLA Arts Summer Theater Festival at the Zephyr

July 7, 2025Female Artists, playwriting, Production, TheatersAditi Pradhan, Ally Marie Lardner, Celeste Moreno, Eva Pollitt, female directors, female playwrights, Regan Lavin, SheLA, Summer Festivals, Zephyr TheatreLAFPI

by Ally Marie Lardner

This July (from the 8th to the 13th), the SheLA Arts Summer Theater Festival is taking over West Hollywood’s Zephyr Theatre. Four new plays by gender-marginalized playwrights will be showcased at this premier new works festival, and I’ve got the inside scoop straight from those very playwrights!

Aditi Pradhan

MEET ADITI PRADHAN, the playwright behind The Great Tikka Tour.

Play Synopsis: Perpetually single Roshini is helping her older sister, Divya, plan her wedding when she’s visited by an unexpected guest: the ghost of her recently deceased mother, dishing out dating advice. Roshini realizes that in order to release the ghost, she must find the perfect tikka masala for Divya’s wedding. The sisters traverse the streets of Los Angeles on their mission, while Roshini lets her fear of intimacy get in the way of her relationships and Divya questions whether she wants her arranged marriage at all. While both sisters try to figure out their romantic lives, they learn that perhaps the greatest love story of all was between their mother and her two daughters.

Ally Marie Lardner: Hey Aditi! What was the inspiration for your play?

Aditi Pradhan: I was inspired to write this play when I was navigating the early days of my relationship. My mom, who had an arranged marriage, would give me advice, and I found myself wondering how she could relate to my interracial relationship. It made me question the assumptions I’d made about arranged marriage—and about my mother. I’m recently engaged, and this show has taken on a new meaning for me!

Ally: Who do you think should definitely see this play?

Aditi: Anyone who wants a lighthearted comedy that celebrates the women who hold us up.

Ally: What do you want audience members to know before they arrive?

Aditi: The less they know going in, the better!

Ally: What’s one lesson you’ve learned so far in the process?

Aditi: It’s been really awesome to take this play that is so based on my experiences, and work with the creative team to bring it to life! I’ve loved hearing their perspectives on colorism, arranged marriages, and family relationships.

Ally: One last question for now, Aditi: What are you like as a writer?

Aditi: I tend to start with a world—whether that means a physical space or a time period or a phenomenon. I got the idea of a play that took place mostly in restaurants, and from there, the tikka tour was born! Writing and producing this play has definitely left me craving tikka masala.

Check out Aditi’s play, “The Great Tikka Tour,” on July 8 at 7:30pm or July 11 at 7:30pm!

MEET CELESTE MORENO, who wrote book, music, & lyrics for The Tears of la Llorona (Las Lágrimas de la Llorona).

Celeste Moreno

Play Synopsis: Set 100 years ago along the US/Mexico border, “The Tears of La Llorona” retells the Mexican myth of the Weeping Woman. Llorona has become infamous for stealing children in the night, but the Calaveras—a band of mariachi women—guide us through a reimagining of her origin story. Resurrected from the dead, she seeks vengeance on her murderer. But fate creates uncertainty within Llorona after chance encounters with her husband, a girl she finds kinship with, her lover, a white boy exploring Mexico for the first time, and an old Abuelo who is her connection between the living and spirit worlds.

Ally: Hey Celeste. What was the inspiration for your play?

Celeste Moreno: My Mexican great-grandmother, Nani, married an American rancher. The story is that he threatened her—if she were ever to befriend anyone or attempt to learn English, he would kill her. She escaped her captor, changed her name, and fled across the country with two of her children. From other women of Mexican heritage, I have heard family history that echoes hers—stories of women kidnapped, forced into marriage, sometimes killed. Not a new story, and one that remains relevant today…

Ally: What do you want audience members to know before they arrive?

Celeste: Do you know the legend of La Llorona, the Weeping Woman? Long ago, she drowned her children in a fit of madness. Unable to rest even in death, her tortured spirit now wails night after night, lamenting for all eternity, compelled to snatch up small children that wander into the dark… [This] is a gothic music theater ghost story, based on the old Mexican myth La Llorona—The Weeping Woman—re-envisioned through the lens of personal family history.

Ally: Who should definitely see this play?

Celeste: This play is for those who celebrate their cultural differences—those left behind, those ignored. La Llorona is speaking directly to the Latino community, providing a new theatrical piece with music that is in English and Spanish, bringing themes of Anglo/indigenous clash to reflect the experience of a huge portion of our continent’s population.

Ally: What are three plays you wish everyone could see before encountering yours?

Celeste: My play leans into the storytelling of classic Greek tragedy, in particular, Aeschylus’ Agamemnon (Ted Hughes translation). Though stylized, the story speaks to the human parts of us. Pan’s Labryinth, with its evocative imagery, visuals, and dark mythic tone, informs the tone. Fiddler on the Roof, with its culturally specific music, was also a huge influence.

Ally: Thanks for sharing, Celeste. Tell us: why is your play necessary, here and now?

Celeste: Given the state of the U.S., there has never been a more prescient time for this story. My story of the clash of Anglo and indigenous, a story of a family torn apart, is now mirroring events unfolding daily in our nation. While happy to see Llorona given life on stage, I am furious that events set over 100 years ago feel like stories heard on the street, in offices, happening to people all around me. I am furious that we have to implement protocols to ensure that my actors and audience are safe from marauding kidnappers who hunt people based on the color of their skin, with the blessing of our federal government.

Check out Celeste’s play, The Tears of la Llorona, on July 9 at 7:30pm, July 12 at 8:30pm, or July 13 at 12pm! **A Digital Performance will be available for online viewing July 15-22.**

MEET EVA POLLITT, the playwright behind ÉLÉPHANT.

Eva Pollitt

Play Synopsis: Set in a 19th-century Parisian brothel, ÉLÉPHANT follows 13-year-old Clérèse as she comes of age under the care of her mother, Magdith, a sex worker desperate to shield her from a brutal world. When a visitor arrives, Clérèse’s body begins to change, and a fantastical journey unfolds. Developed with Rising Sun Performance Company over several years, this dreamlike, allegorical tale explores puberty, trauma, and transformation. Inspired by Toulouse-Lautrec, global documentaries, and lived experience, ÉLÉPHANT offers an intimate, raw, and visually striking exploration of girlhood, womanhood, and the cost of survival.

Ally: Hey Eva. Tell us about the inspiration for your play!

Eva Pollitt: [The play is] a combination of fever dreams, Henri Toulouse-Lautrec paintings, a big elephant statue in the French town I was living in, and my own explorations of loneliness and longing for love.

Ally: Who should definitely see this play?

Eva: Mothers and Daughters. Anyone who is interested in French culture. Anyone who likes feminist magical realism.

Ally: Is there anything you want audience members to know before they arrive?

Eva: They are about to see a violent world through the magical eyes of a child.

Ally: What are three pieces of art you think everyone should see before encountering this play?

Eva: 1) Toulouse-Lautrec Paintings. 2) The film It Felt Like Love by Eliza Hittman. And 3) Any theatre work by Angélica Liddell.

Ally: What’s one big budget item or otherwise crazy-ambitious idea you have for a future production of this play? (If you can share without spoiling too much!)

Eva: I’d love for it to go to the Festival D’Avignon—the biggest theatre festival in the Francophone world. While most plays are in French, there are many international artists and multilingual plays as well… I’m curious what French audiences would make of the story, language, and world.

Ally: Sound amazing! Last question for now: What do you hope audiences take away after seeing the performance?

Eva: “I hope their hearts feel splintered open in a cathartic way. I hope they feel more inclined to love, no matter how much bravery it takes.”

Check out Eva’s play, ÉLÉPHANT, on July 10 at 7:30pm or July 12 at 5:00pm!

Regan Lavin

MEET REGAN LAVIN, the playwright behind BACCHANALIA.

Play Synopsis: In a remote forest, Agave and Sage welcome four young artists to an off-the-grid retreat. What begins as a creative escape devolves into something far darker as Agave introduces disturbing exercises, covertly doses the group with psychedelics, and casts Owen as the reincarnation of Dionysus. Under her influence, alliances fracture, reality blurs, and the artists spiral into chaotic psychosis. As identities dissolve and the group transforms into a modern Greek Chorus, the retreat hurtles toward a violent, mythic finale—echoing the tragic ecstasy of The Bacchae. A haunting exploration of power, community, and the thin line between art, humanity, and madness.

Ally: Hey Regan. What was the inspiration for your play?

Regan Lavin: I’ve always loved Greek tragedy, especially Euripides’ The Bacchae. After a recent read of Donna Tartt’s The Secret History… I began thinking again about what makes us transcend and forget ourselves and the social mores we are taught. What can bring us to that state of joyous ecstasy? I fell down this wormhole of researching the Dionysian festivals… the rites were thought to put their participants—primarily women—in a trance, and bring them to a state of catharsis wherein they could forget themselves. In a day and age where many people want to escape, this show is my exploration of what that might look like now, as well as [serve as] a cautionary tale regarding how quickly community can turn to cult when power is brought into play.

AML: Who should definitely see this play?

Regan: Artists—and I use that term broadly! If you crochet in your free time, if you write poetry in your journal, if you think you’re awful at whatever form of art you practice, but it brings you joy, you are still an artist!… It’s okay to make art just for the sake of creating!

Ally: What do you want audience members to know before they arrive?

Regan: First and foremost, I want audiences to know the content warnings before arriving since this play can get dark and triggering. I also want audience members to know that this play does get a little weird and a little out there… it’s a world premiere, so I’m still learning a lot about what works in the script and what I want to change for next time! My director, Samara, has been such a fantastic partner in helping me refine each of these characters and make the script really sing.

Ally: What are three pieces of art you think everyone would see before encountering your play?

Regan: Definitely Euripides’ The Bacchae and Donna Tartt’s The Secret History, since they were my two biggest inspirations to write this play. I’d also include Ari Aster’s Midsommar or Susan Soon He Stanton’s Solstice Party.

Ally: Tell us about your writing process!

Regan: I describe my process as working in “concentric circles,” a term I learned from one of my college mentors, Michael Rau. I’ll write the first draft of a work, bringing in all the incoherent ideas and pieces I want to use and letting it be messy, before then editing it down… A bad first draft is always better than a nonexistent one. I’ll often even challenge myself to write the worst script I could conceive of just to get out of my perfectionist brain and stop judging myself.

Ally: What’s one big budget item or otherwise crazy-ambitious idea you have for a future production of this play? (If you can share without spoiling too much!)

Regan: My dream for this production would be an outdoor, immersive production in the middle of the woods, where the audience can engage in some of the artistic activities if they choose, allowing them to truly feel the call of nature and the dirt under their feet. Although this piece gets dark, I also want it to offer an idea of the alternative that could be and provide audiences a chance to regain a childlike sense of wonder and awe towards making art.

Check out Regan’s play, BACCHANALIA, on July 12 at 2:30pm or July 13 at 3:00pm! **A Digital Performance will be available for online viewing July 15-22.**

Four creative new plays by four promising female writers? For theatre nerds like us, there’s nothing more exciting… except maybe a way to do it on a budget. For those of us who overspent on Fringe shows (no shame there!), the SheLA Two Show Pass offers a cost-effective way to attend two shows of your choosing—effectively designing your own personal program. Don’t miss your chance to attend these world premieres!

I’ll leave you with Regan Lavin’s last words, because I think here, she speaks for all of us at the LAFPI, SheLA and our theatre community in general:

Ally: Why are your plays necessary, here and now?

Regan: All art is political, whether the creator intends for it to be or not, and [these plays are] no exception. Community is one of the most beautiful things in the world, and artistic community is particularly vital and political. Too often, power-hungry individuals attempt to impose conformity, control, regulation, and obedience in the name of community, distorting its true meaning. [These plays are] necessary to remind people to lean on and embrace community while cautioning against that exploitation.

The SheLA Summer Theatre Festival runs Tuesday, July 8 – Sunday, July 13, with additional digital performances available for viewing through Tuesday, July 22. For more information and to purchase tickets, go to shenycarts.org/she-la

Know a female or FPI-friendly theater, company or artist? Contact us at lafpi.updates@gmail.com & check out The FPI Files for more stories.

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The FPI Files: A Stage for Remembrance – “The Delicate Tears of the Waning Moon”

May 12, 2025Female Artists, playwriting, Production, TheatersAnabel Flores, Carolina Pilar Xique, Eric K. Roberts, female directors, female playwrights, Journalists, Latino Theater Company, Los Angeles Theatre Center, Miroslava Breach, violence against womenLAFPI

by Carolina Pilar Xique

I’ve recently become an avid adversary of statues.

Not all of them. The ones dedicated to the human form, like the Greek statues that live in the Louvre, can stay for now. I only play devil’s advocate against the ones that memorialize war heroes (or criminals, depending on who you ask) and historical figures who have ruined other people’s histories.

You could say that I hold a grudge against statues. When dozens of statues were defaced & dismounted in 2020, including one of Robert E. Lee, I was among the many that were happy to see them go. I am deeply unsettled by the fact that we are currently living in a time when plastering your face on the side of a mountain, your name on the top of a building, or the country’s name on a body of water is the greatest achievement of our government system. Frankly, it’s become childish. It takes me back to one of my earliest memories, when my younger sister learned how to spell her name and wrote it on every inch of our bedroom furniture. What is the point of memorializing someone if they inflict pain on more communities than they do pride?

Thankfully, the statues can’t argue back with me because they are, in fact, statues.

I am only half-joking about this sentiment. But statues have been at the forefront of my mind lately. And each time, I find myself often questioning, “Who deserves to be remembered well? To be memorialized forever? Who gets to decide that? How much harm constitutes a legacy of infamy? When we memorialize someone or something that has damaged more lives than repaired them, what does that say about us?”

But there are people who deserve to be remembered: champions of the suffering, the marginalized, the most vulnerable of us. And they rarely ever are. There is such power in speaking their names and their stories. The Delicate Tears of the Waning Moon by Rebeca Alemán of Water People Theater brings two names to the forefront, stories that many of us likely haven’t heard before, but should have: Miroslava Breach and Anabel Flores.

This production is a monument to them and to all women who experience violence at the hands of corrupt governments. Miroslava Breach and Anabel Flores, presente.

I was able to send some questions to the playwright of The Delicate Tears of the Waning Moon, Rebeca Alemán (who also performs in the production), to learn more about the inspiration behind bringing these important histories onto the stage and the piece’s evolution, from its years across the country with Water People Theater, its run at Latino Theater Company‘s 2024 Encuentro festival, to now.

Carolina Pilar Xique: This play is based on real events. Can you briefly summarize the story, or stories, that inspired you to write this piece? Particularly, the stories of Miroslava Breach and Anabel Flores?

Rebeca Alemán: When I learned the devastating stories of Miroslava Breach and Anabel Flores, two Mexican journalists murdered simply for telling the truth and defending human rights, I felt a deep responsibility to respond through what I know best: theater. Their stories have stayed with me. Miroslava’s son was just eight years old; Anabel’s baby was only two weeks old when she was taken. As my character Paulina says in the play, “How could I leave them alone? I couldn’t.”

They were women. They were mothers. They were journalists doing their job, and they were killed for it. That is a brutal violation of human rights.

Carolina: These stories are so important to tell. How do you navigate the responsibility of representing real tragedies through art while still creating a powerful and engaging narrative?

Rebeca: Every day I ask myself what needs to change, what must be heard, what cannot and must not be forgotten. What needs to be remembered. Theater is an extraordinarily powerful space, and we have a responsibility to use it with intention and integrity. Since the founding of Water People Theater, we have brought stories to the stage that are deeply committed to human rights, stories that move, provoke and invite reflection. When art comes from a true commitment to humanity, it can bring us together, inspire empathy and solidarity, and speak out for human rights.

*Eric K. Roberts and Rebeca Alemán* – *Photo courtesy of Latino Theater Company*

Carolina: The play was produced in Chicago, New York, and now it’s coming back to Los Angeles. What is unique about this production, cast and interpretation of the story?

Rebeca: I would say what truly makes this production unique is its deeply human approach, which has grown and evolved with each staging. The story is told from the perspective of what it means – on a human level – for a journalist – a woman – to become a victim of an attack simply for exposing corruption. A woman who suffers extreme violence – losing her mother, her memory, her history, and her past. Throughout the play, Paulina fights to recover her memory while Rodrigo, her friend, stays by her side every step of the way, supporting her in her pursuit of justice. Each city has brought its own unique energy to the characters’ journey and the play itself.

Carolina: What has it been like to bring The Delicate Tears of the Waning Moon back to the Latino Theater Company, but for a longer run after presenting it at Encuentro? Will audiences see anything new they may not have seen in last year’s run?

Rebeca: We are deeply grateful for the opportunity to return to Los Angeles with this play. Our experience at the Encuentro festival was unforgettable, and this invitation to come back, now on a larger stage with expanded possibilities, is a meaningful recognition of the work of the entire team. As both writer and actress, it is incredibly rewarding to witness how the play continues to evolve, revealing new layers. Audiences will experience a renewed staging that remains faithful to the spirit and intimacy of the original, while incorporating new projections, scenic elements and an even stronger emotional connection between the characters. All of this allows the story to resonate more deeply with the audience.

*Rebeca Alemán* – *Photo courtesy of Latino Theater Company*

Carolina: Is there a particular line or moment in the play that you feel encapsulates its core message or emotional truth?

Rebeca: “There are so many things that aren’t reported because some journalists keep quiet and because media outlets bury other cases. And then there are the people, the poor people who don’t search for justice because they’re afraid.” – Paulina

The Delicate Tears of the Waning Moon, written by Rebeca Alemán and directed by Iraida Tapias, plays Thursdays, Fridays and Saturdays at 8 p.m. and Sundays at 4 p.m. at the Los Angeles Theatre Centerthrough May 25. For more information and to purchase tickets, call (call (213) 489-0994 or go to latinotheaterco.org.

Know a female or FPI-friendly theater, company or artist? Contact us at lafpi.updates@gmail.com & check out The FPI Files for more stories.

Want to hear from more women artists? Make a Tax-Deductible Donation to LAFPI!

Future History

December 14, 2024playwriting, Theaters, Theatre, Writingplaywright life, politics, writingTiffanyAntone

By Tiffany Antone

I’ve been spinning. Are you spinning? What even IS this world right now? I find myself doing a lot of listening. Books that have been bringing me insight, gifting me language which which to make sense of things: On Tyranny, On Freedom, Jesus and John Wayne.

I guess I’m trying to figure out what artists are supposed to do in fascist times? Timothy Snyder says it’s vital to build/cultivate community. Artists are good at this. He also tells us we must not obey in advance. Artists are rebels, so that feels like another check.

But artists are also targets.

Tyrants know we are dangerous – it’s why they always go after us first. Maybe we need to lean into our dangerousness? Do you feel dangerous?

I’m writing… writing… It’s taken me all week to write just this post because what I am writing is fractured, fuzzy… I don’t have answers. I can’t make sense of things. I’m leaning hard into absurdism, post-modernism… I know that I don’t want to write fluff. What truths can I embody? What are the metaphors for this moment? Does any of it matter? Does my art matter?

I have no answers.

Theatre as a business is too much an egregore to respond to this moment with teeth. It will be up to the individual artists and scrappy theatres to challenge our new norms, to speak truth to power, to keep ourselves honest. Theatre companies have bottom lines to worry about, and that means they will lean heavy into what they think they can sell, but anyone will eyeballs can see the truth isn’t selling right now.

Be a witness to history. Be present in your history. Be an active participant in your history.

We hover in liminal space. What happens after Jan 20 is big business right now – read all the papers and pick out your favorites. Glue them on the wall. Throw darts at the scariest words. Breathe deeply in the liminality knowing that soon air will be spiky, things will turn sharp, our new reality will close in with force.

Write your plays. Your words are power. Even if they don’t get performed, our future history needs these plays

The FPI Files: Subverting Ancient Narratives – Dido of Idaho

July 23, 2024Female Artists, playwriting, Production, TheatersAbby Rosebrock, Abigail Deser, Alana Dietze, Carolina Pilar Xique, Dido & Aeneas, Echo Theater Company, Elissa Middleton, female directors, female playwrights, Joby Earle, Julie Dretzin, Nicole DuPortLAFPI

by Carolina Pilar Xique

In Dido of Idaho, playwright Abby Rosebrock challenges her main character, Nora, and audiences to change the stories we tell ourselves, by framing Nora’s tale in a story many of us know so well: the Myth of Dido & Aeneas (wherein the Queen of Carthage falls desperately and tragically in love with the Trojan hero Aeneas).

Abby is a Brooklyn-based writer and actress from South Carolina. Her work has been commissioned, developed and produced throughout New York City and across the country. Other full-length works include Wilma, Blue Ridge, Singles in Agriculture, Monks Corner and Ruby the Freak in the Woods. Abigail Deser directs the West Coast premiere of Dido of Idaho, produced by The Echo Theater Company. Dido of Idaho is a dark comedy about “the lengths to which a woman might go for the love of a good man.”

I wrote to Abby about the production to learn more about her process, the inspiration of the Grecian story of Dido and Aeneas, and balancing the weight of economic inequities with humor and grief.

Carolina Xique: What inspired you to write this piece and how has it grown since its inception?

Abby Rosebrock

Abby Rosebrock: Recently, I read a piece on the filmmaker Catherine Breillat that said she’s exploring the way heterosexuality deranges women. I was like “Damn, well said.”

That’s kind of exactly what I was trying to do with Dido of Idaho, though in a completely different mode, when I wrote it. But there were a million other motives and inspirations. I’d had a long-standing desire to work with the Dido myth, which had been haunting me since I first came across [Henry] Purcell’s music in high school and Virgil’s poem in college.

Recurring dreams I was having about my mother found their way into the play, too. And another impetus was the desire to write some wild female leads that were funnier than I’d seen before. As far as the piece’s growth, I think the story has gotten sharper over the years. Seeing it come to life in different regions and contexts has helped me zero in on what’s essential in the story and prune away the rest.

Alana Deitze and Joby Earle – Photo by Makela Yepez Photography

Carolina: You say that you wanted to “write about a woman who feels hopeless of ever being loved, and to imagine a way out of that for her.” How have the references to the elements of the story of Dido & Aeneas brought this piece to life?

Abby: I love the portrayals of Dido in both Purcell and Virgil. They’re gorgeously crafted and I think largely very empathetic. Of course, in those versions, Dido is destroyed, and I wanted to write a story about a woman who survives. But those works very much inform the play; Purcell’s music and narrative elements from Virgil are woven into the script. The myth has literally determined the course of Nora’s life, insofar as she’s a musicologist who studies the opera for her livelihood.

She’s also living out a narrative of abandonment and annihilation in her romantic relationship. So it’s a play about how painful it is to be trapped inside of a compelling but ultimately destructive story about oneself. I think everyone struggles with that at some point or another. How do you break out of some terrible intoxicating pattern and start creating a life you love?

Nicole DuPort and Alana Dietze – Photo by Makela Yepez Photography

Carolina: What has the rehearsal process been like and how have your thoughts about the play evolved?

Abby: It started with a Zoom reading that was instrumental in helping me evolve the script. I feel I have a more objective relationship to the story and characters than I’ve ever had. And I’ve loved being in conversation with this team across the time zones.

Carolina: How has it been, balancing the hilarity and the weight of the themes you’re dealing with?

Abby: It was a doozy to write. I’d be confronting memories that brought up deep grief, and then I’d try to crack myself up with jokes to snap out of it. So the script has this quality of vacillating between darkness and delight. Hopefully that makes for a fun and rewarding creative process, even though it demands a lot from everyone.

Carolina: And why this play today, right now?

Julie Dretzin and Elissa Middleton – Photo by Makela Yepez Photography

Abby: There’s an economic context to the play that often escapes notice but that shapes everyone’s actions. The only person in the play with a stable income is Michael, a tenured professor at a university. His wife and his lover are both pathologically attached to him because they see him as a source of security—not just emotional but material security. Nora’s brilliant and has a job but her life is especially precarious; Michael’s wife, Crystal, a teacher who desperately wants a kid, wouldn’t have the funds to raise children on her own. And her mother is ill, so medical bills loom over the story. These characters long for a partner to the point of self-destruction because the future for a broke single woman in America is so bleak.

If there’s one timely argument I hope people take away, it’s that economic inequality brings out everyone’s worst instincts and creates immense suffering. Nora triumphs insofar as she becomes a person who can see this economy for what it is and stand for something different.

“Dido of Idaho” plays Fridays and Saturdays at 8 p.m.; Sundays at 4 p.m.; and Mondays at 8 p.m. through August 26 at Atwater Village Theatre, located at 3269 Casitas Ave in Los Angeles, CA 90039.. All Monday night performances are pay-what-you-want. For more information and to purchase tickets, call (747) 350-8066 or go to www.EchoTheaterCompany.com.

Know a female or FPI-friendly theater, company or artist? Contact us at lafpi.updates@gmail.com & check out The FPI Files for more stories.

Want to hear from more women artists? Make a Tax-Deductible Donation to LAFPI!

The Empty Triangle (or, Why American Theatre is Falling Apart)

July 12, 2024Artists, Audience, Performing Arts, Playwright, playwriting, Producing, Theaters, TheatreAmerican Theatre, theatre, Theatre Administration, Tiffany Antone, US TheatreTiffanyAntone

By Tiffany Antone

I’m wrapping up my week here with an excerpt from my article on why American Theatre is falling apart. It’s a long read (grab your beverage of choice and find a comfy spot to sit for a little while) but I think it’s a useful perspective and it contains actionable steps, so like, it’s not just an “idea” paper, you dig? And then, after you’ve had time to digest, let me know what you think! I’m all about the conversation because nothing survives in a vacuum.

EXCERPT FROM “THEATRE’S EMPTY TRIANGLE”

THE TWEET

Listen, theatre is not inherently a public good. Yes, we say we welcome everyone, but we don’t. There are gatekeepers all over the fucking place, companies get tribal, artists get catty and resentful, ticket prices go up and up and up (not to mention the cost of parking!)… none of this is actually welcoming. What theatre is, (not due to a philosophy, but rather due to its very operation) is collaborative. It takes oodles of people to make a play. And that does mean it has the potential to bring people together. But we have to stop assuming that community is a given. Community is an action.

And that’s why your theatre space, should you own one, needs to be MORE than just a theatre space. It needs to be a third space. It needs to have a coffee shop or wine bar, or sandwich shop… it needs to have reading nooks and community art space, and live music and OPEN FUCKING DOORS. It needs to be integrated into the community — not just plopped down somewhere and offered as a culture stop “because culture is good for you!” Like we’re some kind of soul vitamin.

Theatre can be a soul vitamin, if it wants to, and if it is looked at as an act of service. And I don’t mean it has to be volunteer — service organizations can still pay their personnel. But the inherent philosophy and its actions/engagement need to shore up. If you just want to make plays for people, you ain’t a vitamin; you’re popcorn.

And I like popcorn! I really do! But I don’t need popcorn, you know what I’m saying?

Anyway, what follows is basically a manifesto of sorts, with diagrams, asides, and a lot of research (as much as I could get done, anyway… no one is paying me to write this) And I’m going to be honest: I started working on this before the pandemic, but then the world went sideways and the whole goddamn theatre system screeched to a halt. I almost had a (much more academic version) of what you’re about to read published during year one of the pandemic, but the book fell through, so now I’m publishing here (with a fair bit of swearing) because fuck it. Maybe it will be useful.

FOREWORD

I’m going to start things off with an anecdote. The story is not my own, rather it was told to me years ago and stuck. I’ve employed it in various lesson plans and teaching moments over the years, but it feels especially apropos here.

The story goes like this: A mother is making ham dinner for Easter. She gets out the ham, cuts it in half, places each half into a different baking pan, and puts both in the oven. Her daughter watches all this and asks “Mom, why do you always cut the ham in half?” The mother brushes the question off with “Because that’s how you bake a ham.” Her daughter presses her “I’ve never seen anyone else bake ham that way.” Her mother laughs, “Well, that’s how I’ve always done it.” Her daughter isn’t satisfied though: “Are you trying to cut down the cook time or something?” The mother pauses, annoyed, but realizes in her irritation, that she doesn’t know why she cuts the ham in half. It’s how her mother had taught her to bake ham, and that’s that. She tells her daughter that the reduced cook time is probably the answer, now can they get back to preparing Easter dinner, please?

But the question sticks with the mother, because she doesn’t like not knowing the answer. So that night she calls her mother long distance and after the usual “How do you do’s” and “Happy Easter” chit chat, she asks her why you need to cut a ham in half in order to bake it. Her mother laughs, and says “You don’t.” The woman insists: “But, that’s how you always made ham. And how you taught me to make it!” Her mother thinks a moment… then answers “Are you talking about when you were growing up? In our old house? I had to cut things in half because the oven was so short. Are you still cutting things in half? Lord, that’s funny!” The woman, red cheeked, thanks her mother and never cuts the Easter ham in half again.

The prevailing theatre model in the US is one that’s been handed down to us. Its design, and the circumstances under which this system was codified, belong to generations past. And yet, we continue to recreate this model again, and again, because “that’s how we’ve always done it.”

And oh lord, are we paying for it now, or what?

Theatres across the country are shuttering their doors, hitting “pause”, and laying off staff in a desperate bid to diagnose the problem so that it can try drafting a cure. But the very system pausing itself, excising its extremities and furloughing its life-blood in the hopes of rebranding, rebooting, and resurrecting itself, IS the problem.

Maybe we should just let it burn?

Because then, like the phoenix rising from its ashes, theatremakers will be able to repurpose the “Theatre That Was” (beautiful, yes, but also transactional, classist, patriarchal, and racist) into the thing that theatre might become: ubiquitous, transformational, inclusive, and sustainable.

And it begins by admitting we’re not all working with the same oven.

THE EMPTY TRIANGLE

So, non-profit Theatre in America — which is a big goddamn country, huge even! — looks pretty homogeneous. Whether it’s a LORT theatre, a community theatre, or something in-between, if it’s a non-profit theatre, chances are good that the organization follows a predictably hierarchal order of operations. Which means it’s probably got a number of administrators working an insane number of hours to keep the theatre operational via ticket sales, grants, and donations. At every level these administrators make choices with the best of intentions: To stay open! So that we can make more theatre! But this top-down model comes with a host of problems — chief among them being that it grants administrators power over the artists they employ while also rewarding themselves with greater financial security.

Which, in brev-speak, boils down to this:

Theatre’s administrators, the granting organizations/big donors they must suck-up to, and the critics/tastemakers who whisper-shout about it all, are Theatre’s Gatekeepers. They have the Power.
The artists and audience are the only truly necessary part of the Theatre puzzle, but they only get to play if/when the Gatekeepers say so. They make the Magic.

It’s easy to get stuck inside a system of power, know that it’s fucked up, but not be able to pinpoint WHY. Well, here you go, eyeballs — do your thing:

Yes — this is a visual map of the American Theatre Industrial Complex. Ain’t it pretty? Here’s what you’re looking at:

The map diagrams what each of the primary “players” in American Theatre bring to the proverbial party. The cast includes Funders, Theatre Administrators, The Critical Eye, Creators, and Observers. All five of these entities work in service of bringing plays to life in what I have dubbed The Shared Space of Ephemeral Magic (which is just a really fun way to talk about the physical place where Art and Audience meet).

The whole system relies on ideas, prestige, and money to operate. In tracking each entity’s “Power Lines”, you can see what everyone brings into, and takes away from, the Shared Space.

And, as you look at the diagram, you can probably SEE why everything feels broken right now: inequity is literally baked into our prevailing model, making it nearly impossible for any of us to create with equity at the center of our work.

So yeah, it’s pretty clear why we’re all so fucking frustrated.

And yes, there are very real financial reasons theatre currently works the way it does, but the diagram shows us that there are under-valued nexus points already in play in the predominant operating model which we can refocus our energies into mobilizing.

So, if you’re still with me, I’m going to spend a little time breaking the model down for you and address the obvious questions (Why are you calling it the Empty Triangle? What the heck is the Invisible Triangle? Power lines? What? Do you honestly think you can do better?)

To the last point: Yes, and this whole thing ends with a push for us to invest in an Abundant Circle model of practice instead. So hang with me a bit, and then ya’ll can chew things over and decide for yourselves what — if anything — you want to do about it.

READ THE REST OF THE ARTICLE HERE

The FPI Files: Navigating “The Body’s Midnight”

April 26, 2024Director, Female Artists, playwriting, Production, TheatersBoston Court Pasadena, Brenda Varda, female directors, female playwrights, IAMA Theatre Company, Jessica Kubzansky, Jonathan Nichols-Navarro, Keliher Walsh, Ryan Garcia, Seven Devils playwrights Conference, Sonal Shah, Tao House Residency, The Body's Midnight, The Pando, Tira PalmquistLAFPI

by Brenda Varda

Welcome to the literary landscape of The Body’s Midnight by Tira Palmquist. This world premiere, a co-production of IAMA and Boston Court and directed by Jessica Kubzansky, is a delicately interwoven script with surprising, beautiful and challenging moments.

I read the script before the play opened, talked with Tira and Jessica, and visited a rehearsal — all to discover how Tira’s playwriting and collaboration process influenced the production. As we know, creative generation is primarily an individual undertaking, but with this complex project, I wanted to hear and understand more about Tira’s sourcing of material and development.

The Body’s Midnight text presents dilemmas of family, aging, relationships, and health diagnosis fragility — all embedded in the geographic and cultural complexity of a cross-country exploration. Anne and David, a long-term couple and the core duo of the story, are on a trip from California to Minnesota to witness the birth of their first grandchild. There is an immediate indication of an underlying, yet unspoken, tension: even though their dialogue has all the markers of the fun tug-and-pull of a loving relationship, there are little pieces of concern and abnormality that let us know that is not their usual cross-country excursion.

And as the play moves through — no spoilers here! — there is a linking of grand geological sites, park rangers, family phone calls, and mythic characters, all addressing the themes of aging, choice, health and change. Exquisitely interwoven.

Tira and I have known each other for a ‘few’ years, and I have seen and read other produced Palmquist plays, including Two Degrees, Age of Bees & And Then They Fell. I immediately noted key similarities in this work — a balance of the personal, imaginary, poetic and factual in a way that keeps the mind moving while still hitting emotional truth.

After talking to Tira about this particular play, I was struck by how she allowed real events to establish the foundation and then layered other ‘realities’ and fiction to amplify the themes. Writers are often told, “Write what you know,” but even with that dictate, the unique aspects of a script often come from research, discoveries and creativity. This is a great example!

So, my first question? What was the impetus for the play? There are a couple of answers…

Tira told me that she had a doctor’s visit and a diagnosis that started her thinking: not the same issue as Anne’s, but enough to shake the norm. That, coupled with the challenging notion of ‘aging,’ brought the possible character and plot into place.

“In 2018, as the play first came to me, I thought about this woman getting a diagnosis, and then making this journey and having a bucket list for this adventure: trying to memorialize things and hoping against hope to make them permanent,” she said.

A family component also provided context: a few years before the writing, Tira’s mother had a mysterious and complex health downturn.

“In her 70s, my mother started to exhibit symptoms of what was initially misdiagnosed as a more common dementia, but an MRI confirmed, later, that she had had several strokes (probably what are known as ‘silent strokes’) that caused significant damage to important structures of her brain. I’ve had some significant migraines in my life that have mimicked transient ischemic attacks (sometimes seen as precursors to major strokes). The idea that something like this could happen to me, could rob me of my ability to use and appreciate language, was, frankly, terrifying,” Tira continued.

So, yes, Anne does echo Tira’s life experience — and the play deals with these fears and trials — but along the way… well, Tira expands relationships and environments that further reveal Anne’s journey.

*Sonal Shah and Keliher Walsh*
*Photo by Brian Hashimoto*

Using her own experience of driving across the country, Tira fosters two particular aspects of travel to let Anne change. First, travel’s physical and mental impacts: “I am inspired by the way that travel (and longer drives) encourages a kind of patience and meditative attention to the world around you. Being willing to be surprised by the world rather than rushing through it,” she said.

With the travel disruptions, she allows her characters to veer off the planned path and dive into unusual locations that are surprising and allow for new realizations. There are deliberate jumps to locations that are not perfectly on the same highway; and there are jumps to memory locations that echo the past. This dance keeps the reader/audience in a mindset that discovers the roots of the relationships and story.

Her other use of travel is the specific locations: metaphorical representations that amplify Anne’s concerns and represent ideas about the planet’s fragility. Locations include the Grand Canyon, Glacier National Park, rest stops, and, of course, the Pando.

I admit, I did not know what the Pando was.

The Pando is a network of ash trees in Utah that are genetically the same tree, and what seems like individual trees are actually family branches sprouting from the giant lateral root of the parent. This is similar to the concept of character repetition and modification in the play.

“The inspiration for using the Pando in the play was actually a happy accident,” said Tira. “I started researching ‘disappearing places’ and mapping where these places would be along the route Anne and David would travel, and I just happened to stumble on information about this amazing place.”

Accidental finding. Well, maybe not “accidental.” As Tira described, it’s more the subconscious finding its way into a deep engagement with the core themes.

Another key to Anne’s core journey is her husband David’s embrace and care. I was curious about the sense of familiarity, and I gathered that there might be similarities in Tira’s own relationship.

“Well, the characters of Anne and David are drawn heavily from my husband and me — the kinds of conversations we have, the love language we’ve developed, the way I am his ‘monster’ and he is my ‘robot.’” (These are the quirky terms of endearment that they have for each other in the play.) “And while the catalyst for writing the play was a health scare I had, there’s not much else that is my particular story. The more that Anne, David and the other characters took shape, the more this play found its shape and purpose.”

*Keliher Walsh and* *Jonathan Nichols-Navarro*
*Photo by Brian Hashimotoo*

And the play does have a shape and purpose. For me, it felt like a challenge to understand, forgive, and maintain in the chaos of existence — but in a positive way.

Director Jessica Kubzansky described the journey as an “existential climb up a mountaintop,” which I agree with. It was lovely to see Jessica working during my brief visit to a rehearsal: the actors were just at the almost-memorized place, finding the details. Jessica was shaping the patterns and exceptions on the stage in ways to reinforce the “vast beauty” and the “crisis of connection” in the different environments. The actors — Keliher Walsh as Anne, Jonathan Nichols-Navarro as David, Sonal Shah as the daughter Katie and various other roles, and Ryan Garcia as son-in-law Wolf and also multiple roles — all were creating exceptional moments for the dance of dialogue, bringing all the voices together to remind the audience of the journey.

Since this is a playwrights’ blog, there are a few points to highlight about getting the play written, read, developed and produced that might be illuminating. Tira is great at generating, then submitting, and then developing relationships that build ground for her work. She is also persistent: she keeps on track through the many steps and processes that may be needed to get to the desired end state.

As mentioned, she got the impetus for the play in 2018 and then began the initial draft in 2019, working through pages and ideas. The second inspiration or deep dive was at the Tao House in northern California (one of Eugene O’Neill’s homes). At that writing residency, she found additional inspiration from O’Neill’s plays and “found ways to thread those in as homage to him and that beautiful place.”

Next, as in many writer’s journeys, there was an opportunity for a deeper development at the Seven Devils Playwrights Conference in June of 2021. Tira was the Guest Playwright, and she felt this was “a huge step forward in the play — figuring out more about how reality and surreality could work in the play, to find the ‘rules’ of the world, and discover how to make some of the wilder poetry of the play feel authentic and earned, and not merely decorative.”

Also, the Boston Court was part of the process with their 2022 Playwright Group. That group gives an artist a year-long development process that provides the time to foster and deepen the world and characters of the play. This led to a public reading in April of 2023 at Boston Court’s New Play Festival – the first reading in front of a live audience! Jessica Kubzansky did a week of table work and rehearsal. Tira was especially grateful for her support, particularly Jessica’s fierce defense of how the play “plays with time and reality” and for providing support for expanding the poetry and magic of the play. As always, Jessica asked important questions about how The Body’s Midnight world operates and how that world operates on the characters. When I spoke with Jessica, she mentioned the rich challenges embedded in Anne and David’s relationship and how their realities intersect and collide, leading to emotional fruition.

And the reading? Tira said: “I really had no idea how the play would be received by an audience. I mean, Up until that point, I’d only experienced the play via Zoom readings and workshops… The reaction and responses really blew me away, and showed me, for the first time, that his was a play. A play that was important to other people, not just to me.”

*Ryan Garcia, Sonal Shah*
*Photo by Brian Hashimoto*

It is now a year after the reading and it looks to be a full and beautiful production. The set design, bringing to mind the various natural locations, was just evolving when I saw the rehearsal. Now, I need to experience the full depth of The Body’s Midnight. Hope you do, too.

One more quote from Tira (and I’m sure writers can relate…):

“My writing process is, at best, chaotic. I have learned a couple things about myself: I can no longer just start writing with a kind of whim. I have to have the play sort of… gestate in my brain and in my body for a long time. I do a fair amount of very unorganized organizing work — as I said before, figuring out the beginning, middle, end, having a kind of shape or structure in mind — and then, when there’s a kind of critical mass of the play, I start to write. Usually, this first draft is pretty quick. I don’t honestly recall how long the first draft of The Body’s Midnight took, but I think it was a couple of months. Then there are moments of time and distance — returning to the play with new eyes, or with a new inspiration or realization. That recursive part of the process can take a few years.”

“The Body’s Midnight,” a co-production of IAMA Theatre Company and Boston Court Pasadena, opens April 27 and runs through May 26, 2024 at Boston Court. For tickets and information visit www.iamatheatre.com.

Know a female or FPI-friendly theater, company or artist? Contact us at lafpi.updates@gmail.com & check out The FPI Files for more stories.

Want to hear from more women artists? Make a Tax-Deductible Donation to LAFPI!

The FPI Files: Beatrice Casagrán and the Jam-Packed Femme Season at Ophelia’s Jump

February 6, 2024Director, Female Artists, playwriting, Production, TheatersAB5, Beatrice Casagrán, Caridad Svich, Carmel Dean, Carolina Pilar Xique, Elina de Santos, female directors, female playwrights, Hamlet, Joanne Bogart, Kelly Mcburnette-Andronicos, Lauren Gunderson, MMercedes Floresisla, Musical of Musicals, Ophelia's Jump, Revolutionists, Sheila Malone, The TempestLAFPI

by Carolina Pilar Xique

Whoever is still saying that “Theatre is Dead” in 2024 needs to come have a serious talk with me – because theatre is and always has been alive and well, and the reason for such lives solely within the determination of theatre-makers like Beatrice Casagrán.

Producing Artistic Director of Ophelia’s Jump Productions (OJP), Beatrice Casagrán dives headfirst into 2024 with a whopping 7-show season that is “guaranteed to entertain with compelling stories and educate current and new generations of theatre lovers.” And I am certain 2024’s season will do just that – their theatrical programming range is outstanding, from musical, to historical, to traditional straight plays and reimagined classics. As a theatrical artist who is also living, working and producing in Los Angeles, I am deeply inspired by Beatrice’s commitment not only to the theatre, but to the people who make the theatre with Ophelia’s Jump possible.

Needless to say, I was thrilled to speak with Beatrice to talk about the upcoming production of Musical of Musicals, the wonders of adaptational storytelling, and the stellar lineup for OJP’s new season.

Carolina Xique: I’m sure top of mind for you is Musical of Musicals – it’s not only a massive undertaking because it’s a musical, but then it splits off into five different musicals. So I would love to hear about what that process has been like.

Beatrice Casagrán: Before COVID, would do a small musical every two or three years because we have such a small space. During COVID, we lost one of the two theatres in the area that focused on just musicals. So I felt that to serve the community, we really needed to answer what they were asking for. So Musical of Musicals is our first offering this year. It’s also kind of tough because [while] musicals are super popular with patrons, they’re expensive – even a four-person musical like this one. But they also bring in new people who think that they don’t like plays. <laugh> When they come in and see the caliber of work that we do, we tend to see those people come back; they realize, “This is great!”

So that’s the reason that we chose Musical of Musicals for the opening show of the year. We tend to put up stuff that is newer and raises questions and we leave the mid-century musical style to others who do it very well. But this show pokes fun at that and lets everybody have a good time, so I’m really enjoying it.

It’s also a musical in which the book was written by a female [Joanne Bogart], so it met one of our criteria: that we mostly do works by women.

Carolina: Without giving away too much, what can audiences expect to see in Musical of Musicals?

Beatrice: It centers five little musicals all around the quintessential, back-to-silent-film early theatre plot of, “the landlord wants the rent and the ingenue cannot pay the rent.” <laugh> The same plot follows the five different little musicals in the style of five different masters in the field, so it’s the Rogers and Hammerstein team, Jerry Herman, Sondheim, Andrew Lloyd Weber and Kander and Ebb. We have a great time just really embracing all the kind of archetypes and tropes of each one of those. It’s very clever the way it’s written. And it’s just funny. I think it’s been described as a valentine to theatre.

Cast of “Musical of Musicals” – photo by Sej Gangula

Carolina: I wanted to talk about the rest of the season. I’m kind of a Shakespeare-head myself. I was taking a peek at La Tempestad which was particularly interesting to me because I’m half-Mexican, half-Cuban.

Beatrice: Represent, girl! Yeah. I’m so excited. Yay. This is a project that I have thought about for years. This year we were able to get a couple of grants, and I had enough downtime that I was able to connect with other artists and make these friendships with more Latino artists and musicians.

So I now have the wherewithal to do the collaboration that’s needed for that kind of project, and I am super excited. I’m working with a wonderful actor singer who is helping me with translations. And we are going to be doing all original adaptations and maybe some original music as well.

It just seems like The Tempest is perfect, right? There’s so much magical realism in across Latino cultures. But in Cuba… the Yoruba influence and Santeria is really going to be a good fit with The Tempest. We’ll be able to really delve into it and have a wonderful time sharing that part of our culture. I want to make sure that the team that we put together is fully diverse and has all the representation of the richness of what makes up our Cuban culture, and Caribbean Latino culture, and to pay respect and to pay attention to making sure that the story is told correctly.

“La Tempestad” will be part of OJP’s annual Midsummer Shakespeare Festival at the Sontag Greek Theatre, Pomona College

Carolina: It’s not an easy culture or history to explore, so I just want to convey thanks for bringing our stories to light. And some of the season’s stories – like La Tempestad or CJ, An Aspanglish Play by Mercedes Floresislas – are reimaginings of stories many of us already know. For these reimaginings, what seems to be the thread that brings them all together for you?

Beatrice: I’m a fan of history. My undergraduate degree is in political studies. So much of what’s going on in the world today is these hideously false, hurtful, dangerous narratives. I think theatre has an incredibly important role in reaching people who are being sucked into this, and telling stories that people might not otherwise have access to or think that they want to see. So taking these different stories and showing them through a female-centric, Latino focus is important to me. They’re universal stories.

I’m kind of old school in that way. I have always been drawn to stories that are about humanity. And a lot of us are losing the idea that human beings are human beings; we’re not different in our basic yearnings and desires. CJ is a work that I’ve been trying to do for years. It is basically an adaptation of A Christmas Carol, but it’s a human story, and I think it’s even more amazing to be able to tell it from this lens. I love Mexican culture, it has so enriched my life. The richness of the mythology is inspiring. We’re going to have a lot of instruments that are native to Mexican indigenous cultures to be able to make that connection.

Carolina: The ensemble of folks who are directing and writing these pieces is amazing. I would love to hear how you think their perspectives will influence these shows.

Beatrice: Sheila Malone, who is a company member and is directing [Lauren Gunderson’s] Revolutionists, is also a queer leader. She is one of the original members of Dykes on Bikes; she is an expert on lesbian bike culture and she’s a brilliant projection designer and lighting designer and has been a co-artistic director at her own theatre. She’s going to be super nuanced and and I love the energy that she brings to it. So it’s great for me to be able to produce and see another director bring their vision. I also love Lauren’s work!

Caitlin [Lopez, Beatrice’s daughter who is directing Knight of the Burning Pestle] and I founded the Shakespeare Festival in Claremont 10 years ago now. She is hugely into Shakespeare and and Elizabethan theatre, through a queer lens. She also has a very strong background in improvisation, so this version has a lot of audience participation. And we’re running it as a master class, the whole production. We are going to be casting about half the cast with local college students who will be paired with mentor professional artists in their areas of interest, and they will be getting other ancillary classes, seminars, workshops and other opportunities.

Kelly McBurnette-Andronicos [playwright of Second Death of a Mad Wife] is amazing. We’ve done two of her plays; this one is really interesting, too. I’m staging it in a way that I think is gonna be really fun because it’s gonna be somewhat immersive. Twelve Ophelias by Caridad Svich [directed by Elina de Santos] is amazing, too. I reached out to her and she’s like, “Oh yeah, do the show!” <laugh> She intervened with her licensing to make sure we got [rights], which was great.

Kelly McBurnette-Andronicos’ “The Hall of Final Ruin” (OJP 2022 Season) – photo by Caitlin Lopez

Carolina: What excites you most about this season? And what has been the most challenging?

Beatrice: I feel like for the last four years we had to kind of hunker down and, in some ways, make decisions to do things that were not necessarily what I see as core mission. Because we just were struggling like everybody else. I actually, like a lot of other artists, had this existential crisis where I found myself asking, “Is art even important? Does anybody care anymore? People are dying. And what is it that art brings to this? Who cares?” But art is what kept me going. And we were able to program for free and I think we kept other people going. It’s part of mental health, it’s part of community wellbeing.

This is the first season in which I’m doing what I want as an artist, what I think is important as an artist and what is important as a social-justice-minded organization. I am putting women and gender-marginalized people at the center of things. I am fully invested in hiring young people from local community colleges who are emerging artists, most of whom are Latino and of varying genders, who don’t have opportunities and who are learning. It’s an insane season. It’s insane – it’s seven productions!

The challenges? During the push for AB5, I was one of the leaders in the theatre community in California who said, “We have to stop fighting AB5. We need people need to get paid. We need to ask the government and people in the state to understand that our work is worth something and to fund.” But that hasn’t really happened. It happened during COVID and now the funding is all drying up. And so we are running at a huge deficit for every single production.

I’m going under the only way that I know how right now, which is full steam ahead and working my butt off to try to get grants and to spread the word, to reach out to patrons and say, “We have to have the help if you want us to keep going!” So part of the reason we have a season like this is we have a small crew and part of my personal commitment is I want to keep these folks employed. I need to give them hours because they need to live. I’m making a huge effort to try and make sure that I consistently have a number of hours for folks so that they don’t have to make huge changes in their lives all the time to try and make ends meet.

Carmel Dean’s “Well-Behaved Women” (OJP 2023 Season) – photo by Ophelia’s Jump

Carolina: If you could pick a classic tale to retell from your own lens, whether it’s your own story or somebody else’s story, which would it be and why?

Beatrice: Well, that’s kind of what I’ve done with La Tempestad. I was born in Cuba, but my parents left when I was just a baby. “My Cubans,” as I call them, are dying off, right? My dad’s 86, my aunts, and my mom are already gone. And like you say, it’s the history of this island; this little nation is so replete with stories that are important. So that’s really what’s in my mind right now.

I’ve retold Hamlet and used portfolio and other original writings to highlight Ophelia’s arc, which is how our theatre got our name. I made Laertes a lesbian character who was a suffragist and kind of looked at the female arcs in that play, and the different outcomes. A young woman who’s basically had her agency stripped [away] by the female in power and all the males in her life and finally takes agency in her last act, which is to kill herself. And then juxtaposed that with Laertes who was off traveling because they were not living the traditional female role. I’m constantly looking at projects like this and will continue to do so, I hope, through my career, ’cause that’s what really gets me going. <laugh>. Yeah, Shakespeare retellings through feminist lenses is really something I love to do.

“Musical of Musicals” runs through February 18^th. For more information about “Musical of Musicals,” “La Tempestad,” and the many, many more wonderful productions that Ophelia’s Jump will be producing this year, you can find more information at opheliasjump.org. For information on how you can support or make a donation, please visit opheliasjump.org/ways-to-support.

Know a female or FPI-friendly theater, company or artist? Contact us at lafpi.updates@gmail.com & check out The FPI Files for more stories.

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Women (Back) on the Fringe: #HFF21 #FringeFemmes Kudos & Numbers

September 19, 2021Female Artists, playwriting, Theaters#fringefemmes, Awards, Diversity, genderparity, Hollywood Fringe FestivalLAFPI

After a year off, the Hollywood Fringe Festival was back this year, big in energy if a bit smaller in size and a different sort of shape, being a hybrid of live and virtual performances.

But one thing that was not scaled back in 2021 was the Fringe Femmes presence and energy. Nope, the Women on the Fringe rocked it, creating amazing work and a phenomenal community.

This year, instead of giving out awards to venues supporting female playwrights as part of the closing night ceremony, Constance Strickland presented the 2021 numbers (representation of women+ writers and artists of color in scripted HFF Shows) as well as a “Most Wanted List” of venues that staged 50% or more works by women+ playwrights. (Many thanks to honorary Fringe Femme Lois Neville & the fab Fringe Staff!)

We first started tallying 10 years ago, and found that the number was 39%. While that was almost twice as the year-round numbers in LA theater, that wasn’t good enough. But within five years, we hit 50%… and have kept that average ever since.

Big huzzahs that during the month of August, 52% of the scripted Fringe shows were written by women+.

Four venues were on 2021 FPI’s Most Wanted List: Actors Company, Hudson Theatres, The Broadwater and Zephyr Theatre; in addition, over 50% of the scripted shows livestreamed only were femme created.

But the numbers representing artists of color aren’t nearly as celebratory. In 2021, only 36% of the scripted Fringe shows were by writers of color. This is up from 21% overall last year (the first year we tallied race numbers). Interesting to note that of female playwrights, 43% were of color; male playwrights, only 28%.

It was also encouraging to look at the HFF Awards Winners. 50% of the Community “Freak” Awards went to women+, including Makena Hammond’s BLACK WOMAN IN DEEP WATER which took Top of the Fringe. And 100% of the Sponsored Awards and 89% of the Best of Broadwater Awards were awarded to female playwrights – well over 50% of both these Awards went to writers of color.

In spite of the fact that only 37% of the Producer’s Encore Awards were given to female playwrights, and only 37% to playwrights of color…

You still have time to catch many of the Women on the Fringe in Encore performances starting this weekend! Click Here for Info

So congrats all.

But let’s just say that numbers count. And we can do better.