I have been asked to edit Shakespeare's A MID SUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM for production by a local theatre group. Someone from their group (apparently) saw my staging of RICHARD III and approved of the deletions I had made in that work.
"Bring A MID SUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM down to under two hours," I was asked, "and shorten the monologues."
I nodded and agreed. Since Shakespeare's comedy is only about 75 minutes long, I knew that length would not be an issue. (When I edited RICHARD, it was to bring the running time down from five to two and a half hours.)
Editing the monologues is another matter altogether. I see two small paragraphs that appear redundant. The more I study this playwright, the more impressed I become. He approaches an issue from every angle. And, for some reason the light has been turned on, and I'm looking at Shakespeare from a fresh, rather than my normally jaded, viewpoint. My impression is that Shakespeare may be OVER analyzed, so galloping ignorance is not always a bad thing. My inclination is to simply sit back and enjoy the ride.
Aside from that, I'm starting to put together the first notes for the other play I'm contracted to direct at the theatre where dear RICHARD was staged, The play is called ZACK, written in 1920 by Harold Brighouse. I've never heard of it. Have you? The saving grace here is that I appreciate the British humor from that time, so I anticipate that ZACK and I will get along just fine.
This is my favorite time of the year. Mosr of the theatres available to me have now picked their next seasons, and will soon be looking for directors. Since I've been fortunate enough to be involved with two "hits" in a row, I'm in a good position to get the shows that are of interest to me.
Enough for now. Corners of the night sky have now streaks of dark crimson. Morning is not far away and my bed is calling.
In Xanadu did Kubla Kahn a stately pleasure-dome decree: where Alph, the sacred river, ran through caverns measureless to man down to a sunless sea. So twice five miles of fertile ground with walls and towers were girdled round: And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills, where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree; And here were forests ancient as the hills, enfolding sunny spots of greenery.
Jack Bunny is the alter ego of a playwright, theatrical director, and drama critic. If you are at a party and see a 150 pound rabbit at the punch bowl, it might be him!
(On the other hand, it might also mean that perhaps you should step away from the punch bowl for awhile.)
ANOTHER DUMB GHOST STORY (Full length)
THE REVENANT (Full length)
CORIE (Full length)
MORGAN (Full length)
VOLLEYS (Full length)
ELYCE TIMES ONE (Full length - written with J.E. Ocean)
THE DISENCHANTED FROG (Children's One-act)
THE ART OF BUILDING BRIDGES (One-act)
FROM MY VANTAGE POINT (One-act)
THE TRIAL (One-act)
WHAT'S NEW IN LATHERDUE? (Reader theatre One-act)
ROUGH DRAFT (One-act)
THE GRAND GILDER (One-act)
Old friend remembered
We don't stop playing because we grow old; we grow old because we stop playing.
George Bernard Shaw
I hate writing, I love having written.
If there are no dogs in Heaven, then when I die I want to go where they went.
It must be summer. I can smell California burning.
Starbucks is where certain relationships go to die.
I can only answer the question 'What am I to do?' if I can answer the prior question, 'Of what story do I find myself a part?'
Walmart always makes me cry ...
Truth is stranger than fiction, but it is because Fiction is obliged to stick to possibilities; Truth isn’t.
The Bible in the hand of one man is more dangerous than a whiskey bottle in the hand of another.
Can people stop dying please? Just for a little bit. maybe.
Mettle not in the affairs of Dragons, for thou art crunchy and good with ketchup.
He that troubleth his own house shall inherit the wind: and the fool shall be servant to the wise in heart.
Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned/nor hell a fury like a woman scorned.
This above all: to thine own self be true. And it must follow, as the night the day, Thou canst not then be false to any man.
In my many years I have come to the conclusion that one useless person is a shame, two is a law firm and three or more is a Congress.
Wearing underwear is as formal as I get.
"Pay No Attention To That Man Behind The Curtain ..."
Our revels now are ended.
These, our actors, as I foretold you, were all spirits, and are melted into air, into thin air:
And like the baseless fabric of this vision, the cloud-capp'd tow'rs, the gorgeous palaces, the solemn temples, the great globe itself, yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve, and, like this insubstantial pageant faded, leave not a rack behind.
We are such stuff as dreams are made on; and our little life is rounded with a sleep.