That's What Friends Are For

Okay. Here's the story - listen up.

(Listen up? Listen up?! Where did that come from?)

Anyway ...

I needed some decor for a play some years ago. Was driving down the street when I saw this tacky clock in a bucket of junk at a yard sale. The guy wanted fifty cents and couldn't look me in the eye when I bought it.

After the play closed, my best friend in the world admired the clock, and for years it hung in his living room, daring somebody to say something.

Eventually the thing moved to my den. I've looked at it for several years now. I'm accustomed to seeing it. It scares me. I think I might be starting to like it.

Okay, here's where you come in.

I'd like to restore it to it's original tacky glory. I think it is supposed to have columns on the sides - holes are there. And on the top a broken cherub once perched. But I can find NO information anywhere. I need somebody to tell me what I need and possibly where to get it.

Other than burying the thing in the back yard, does anybody have any experience with this sort of thing?

jb

jb

On Becoming A Writer

As the leader of a writing group, I’m often asked this question “what can I do to be a writer?”

I answer, “write something.”

“No no,” the person persists, “what can I do to be a good writer?”

“Write something good,” I respond.

Some people don’t know when to quit. “What can I do to become a successful writer?”

I rarely answer that question, because the price of success is too high for most people. Success (as most hopefuls define the word) could mean abandoning everything else in life – eating, sleeping, home, relationships – everything. The point of breathing is to write. It’s not just an attitude you wear one day like a coat. It's certainly not a job.

In her blog, My Inflammatory Writ, New York City playwright Kari poignantly expresses her understanding of what that means.

“By fifteen, (I was) a playwright, unleashing the voices in my head and my heart.

At twenty eight, I wonder why I ever thought I could be anything else.

Writing is the way to answer the unanswerable.
My way of praying.

When I know nothing else, I know that I write.

When I forget who I am, writing is my way of remembering.
Of finding my way back.

I can’t be scared of doing the only thing that brings me peace
in a world and a life where peace is impossible.”


Any questions?


jb

The Library - part 2

Everything is finally straightened and put away. Thought I'd show you the completed room while it still looks this way.

Looking down the line, past Science Fiction, archeology, biography, military history, toward ...

... theatre books. This is a larger view of what you saw before. I don't remember ever deciding to start a collection.

This is the view from the other direction. In the bookcase are books on religion. See the top of the desk? I'd forgotten what that looked like.

Oh. This is the clock behind my desk. I'm restoring it - still looking for an ornate clock face. I keep it here anyway. When I'm in this room, time is not important.

Can you tell? This is my happy place.

jb

The library

I'm fortunate - my house is large enough to have a library room. For the past year it's been used as junk storage ... to the point where I couldn't get in the door.

So I cleaned and put away ... and pitched.

Come on in, have a look ...

Here's the stairway going up.

I have lots of plays. Lots and lots.

And props. My whole house is filled with props.

And Art. I love this piece. Love it!

so ... that's part of the one wall I can now reach comfortably. More later.

jb

A Dichotomy

Okay. Enough people have asked about this drama critic post that …

(Asked? Asked?! Does sniggering count as “asked?” Does … never mind.)

Ever wonder how these things get started? I mean, I write plays. That’s all. I write plays, and after I write a play I look around for a theatre to produce it. I watch the audience during the performances. Where and how do they react? Where do I need to re-write?

This has been my routine for a long time. Write, critique my musings during a below-the-radar run, re-write, email the finished product to a contest, a commission, or to my alleged agent six or seven states away.

Simple.

Well, almost.

The middle part takes a little work. You know, the part about looking around for a theatre to produce an unknown work for the first time – that few people will come to see – and will not make a dime in profit for the theatre.

“The Sound of Music pays for our entire season.”

“Yeah yeah.”

So I do what I do. I sit on committees in any of four small theatres within driving distance. I help build sets. I take tickets. It’s fun. And I direct plays. It pays. And in the back of my mind I keep thinking, “here are actors for a reading, here is a theatre …”

Ya still with me? I’m building my case here.

I’ve found that if I aggressively promote a theatre, ultimately it works in my favor. For example, many times the plays I direct become critically and financially successful. As a result, my next audition attracts more gifted and experienced performers. Then, because I have a cast that is gifted and experienced, my next show stands a better chance of becoming successful. That’s how that goes, and I've always been open about acknowledging the formula.

And so it was with the last show I directed, Inherit The Wind. It was an outstanding show, thanks in large part to casting some of the best (and most well know) actors available. I found that promotion of the play did not include any reviews. Simply, the theatre felt that the reviewers and critics in this city are so unqualified (for one reason or another.) that no reviews would be accepted from anyone.

I was shocked. It occurred to me (naively) that even a bad review is better than none at all. What do I know? Since my agent is on the West Coast, (and I’m not), it’s been years since one of my plays has been locally judged by anyone but me.

If the problem was a lack of trust in the critic, it occurred to me that here was something I might be able to fix. Years ago I was the drama critic for a smallish newspaper chain and a television station. I specialized in covering the theatres nobody else wanted, and was held in high regard by the very theatres I now frequent. At the time, I stopped reviewing because, as a playwright, I felt like I was reviewing what I should be doing.

I stopped for another reason, as well.

For the most part, I consider drama critics to be lower than pond scum. They have little in the way of integrity – everything is subjective. Newspaper drama critics are journalists. This does not automatically qualify them to critique theatre, and they are hired – and evaluated – by people who know even less. Many critics are arrogant and condescending. There’s no way to challenge their opinions – once it’s in print, the game is over. Further, five out of six critics know they must build a following in order to keep a job. There are only so many ways you can say something positive about a performance or a show. However there are an almost infinite number of ways you can destroy a show or a theatre, and at the same time make yourself appear clever and witty and powerful. They ignore the fact that the primary responsibility is to critique, not criticize – that the true goal is to improve the quality of the craft. Unfortunately, I believe that local critics are literary vampires – their primary urges are to suck the life out of any group that incurs disfavor.

I hope I haven’t been too subtle in expressing my opinion of those who work in this, the next to oldest profession.

One final thing here has kept me moving forward. In contacting various publishing groups, I stumbled across several theatre websites – I never knew these even existed. One in particular caught my attention - publishing not only reviews, but auditions, feature articles, and whatever strikes the fancy of the various contributors. I was impressed, and courted them openly. Although I hold drama critics – myself included – in low regard , it pleases me to promote, wherever and however, the art and craft of which I am a part.
jb

Check This Out, Then We'll Talk ...

the stranger
Seattle's Only Newspaper
October 7, 2008
Feature: Ten Things Theaters Need to Do Right Now to Save Themselves
In No Particular Order
By BRENDAN KILEY
A Much-Needed List of Advice for Theaters … Read the whole article at http://www.thestranger.com/seattle/ten-things-theaters-need-to-do-right-now-to-save-themselves/Content?oid=691862 »

jb

The lowest aspect of theatre ...

sigh ...

Hate to admit it ...

... but I don't want you to hear it from someone else ...

I am now a contributing drama critic for a theatre website.

That's what happens, I suppose, when you associate with some of those people for awhile ...

I mean, what can I do? Are there shots you can take for something like that?

(I guess the only saving grace is that I'm doing it under another name,)

Whew!

jb

Parting Shot

The entire INHERIT THE WIND cast, this picture taken the day before we closed.

I miss 'em already - even the strange ones.

jb

WHAT MAKES GOOD THEATRE?

I was invited to contribute an article to a Theatre Website. After I finished writing, I decided to also post the text here. It's not bad. Comments would be nice.

WHAT MAKES GOOD THEATRE?

To explore an answer to this question, I must first expand it slightly – what makes good theatre for me? In other words, I start with the premise that not everyone looks at “theatre” the same way. This observation allows me to create a simple rule - If I see something and like it, it’s good theatre. If I don’t, it isn’t.

Why complicate something that’s subjective to begin with?

“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.”

Yeah, yeah, thank you Willy for filling in the last half of the rule – How can I expect anyone else to believe in what I do … if I don’t?

Look at it this way. We live in an age of “good enough.” If there’s something in your play that’s “good enough,” it’s not. Fix it! Find it and change it until it is a treat all by itself. Get the idea? Your work should be one treat falling over another. Make blah blah transitions into memorable highpoints.

Here’s another constant; as a director, make your stage picture attractive – always always always. This should be obvious, but apparently isn’t – your actors aren’t there merely to occupy space. Think of them as pawns in a Maxfield Parrish painting. Let one picture flow into another. Get passionate about this, because it’s important and infusive.

So … you getting the idea yet? Good theatre is all about you. Look your best. It’s your first date with a drop dead gorgeous redhead.

Weave your style throughout the play you are directing. Be bold in presenting your personality. Why? Because great theatre goes beyond what is on the written page. Once a playwright adds “The End” to a script, no matter how well written it may be, that script becomes history. Even before the first printing, the society that spawned it will have evolved. Your personality encourages a homogenous relationship between your audience and the playwright. (I presume you are in agreement, understand and support what the playwright is saying. I assume you actually have – or can convincingly fake – a personality.)

Listen to what your actors suggest. Your authority won’t be emasculated by listening, and sometime you will be given a real gem of an idea (for which, in spite of your modest denials, you will ultimately be given the credit).

Don’t be afraid to make mistakes. A mistake won’t destroy your career. (Probably.) A mistake only tells you what doesn’t work. That’s all. (Mostly.)

Don’t be afraid to break the rules. In fact the rules change almost daily. Absolutely nothing is sacred. Expand your mind past the physical limitations you observe while ambling down the aisle toward the stage. What can you see? What could you see? What might be improved by being unseen? (And who knows? You could get lucky and actually do something innovative, and they would erect a statue of you directly across the street from the statue of George Cohan, thus forcing the pigeons to make hard decisions regarding which statue to visit in order to … visit. Wouldn’t that be great?!)

And finally – remember the old adage “Don’t sweat the small stuff,” followed by “It’s all small stuff?” Remember that? Well, ignore it. In creating great theatre it should be “Sweat the small stuff,” followed by “Because there’s no big stuff.” Past the obvious disciplines of blocking, pace, and characterization, everything – and I mean everything - is detail and nuance. Everything is foreshadowing, motivation, color, mood, temperament, subtext, and the list of details goes on and on. Take care of these, concentrate with everything that’s in you on these, and by seeming magic the big picture is suddenly there. It may not be exactly what you expected – it seldom is. But it will be true, and that’s everything.

A little over fifty years ago I saw THE GLASS MENAGERIE for the first time. I still remember that production, still distinctly remember all the sights, sounds – even the sweet smells. I’d like to think that – fifty years from now – someone will remember my work that way.

If that happens, I’ll know why.

Reviews, or lack of ...

INHERIT THE WIND opened to glowing comments, and I wanted to pass on a review or two … Only … There have been no reviews, nor will any be coming.

From: Theatre Vault Administration
Date: Thu, Nov 12, 2009 at 11:04 PM
Subject: Re: INHERIT THE WIND at Little Theatre Off Broadway
To: (Jack Bunny)

Dear Mr. (Bunny),
I spoke to a board member of LTOB today and was informed that as a company policy they no longer invite reviewers to their productions.
Best wishes for a strong finish to your run,
Danielle


I contacted the theatre. They told me that past reviews have been “inconsistent in quality.”

Huh? Have you ever heard of such a thing? I mean ...

This was a new and different kind of theatre to me.

As a result, the only thing I have to share is this letter, mailed to the theatre the day after we opened.




I attended my first play at LTOB last evening. I am writing this today because of my experience.

It was, without a doubt, one of the most enjoyable experiences I have had in quite a long while. I have seen plays and musicals downtown, and even in Las Vegas, but your company's production of Inherit The Wind just stopped me in my tracks! It was brilliant.

I will be attending future plays, but believe me, the bar has been set very, very high.Thank you for a very enjoyable, wonderful experience.


jb

Yesterday, Today, Tomorrow

The time is now 10:28 PM. I like to make note of these things. Sometimes I look at the official timestamp generated at the end of each post, and it says 5:13 AM, and I wonder if my collection of thoughts somehow transmitted to Mongolia on the way to being posted.

It’s been a long two days.

For the first time since July I’m not directing any plays, coaching any actors, holding or attending meetings, or writing furiously to beat real or self-imposed deadlines. Yesterday morning I spent almost half an hour just staring out my back door, zombie-like, willing myself to recognize the colorings of leaves covering my yard. When I turned back into my kitchen, the dog was asleep in a heated pool of sunlight. In closing the door, he muttered something under his breath. I couldn’t quite catch the inflection. Probably just as well.

I spent part of yesterday going through a collection of emails that had been ignored or set aside for far too long. Nothing earth shattering – those I had answered as they came in. Rather, here were requests of one kind or another – usually for information. And there were those friends who simply wanted to talk. I answered every one of these, often with sheepish apologies for not responding sooner. My friends understand.

One of the emails was from a close friend who has invited me and my wife to spend Thanksgiving with her and her family. Since I have no family who loves me within several states from here, I happily said yes. My friend’s daughter told me I have been adopted into the family. This brought me to tears. I miss large family holidays.

I have a project going. I tore out the carpet leading to my second floor, and am slowly refinishing the hardwood stairs. Right now I’m striping off old paint and varnish. The wood underneath – in a 60-year-old home, will be beautiful. When I finish. Some day. In the meantime, the dog is perfectly happy scampering UP the stairs, but, with no carpet to dig into, he’s afraid to come down. So he moans. (Did you know a dog could moan?) About fifty times a day he waits pathetically for somebody to lug his fuzzy … self … down to the living room. Man’s best friend? HA!

For most of today I read plays. I’m on the play reading committee for a local theatre, and – since I’m w-a-y behind in this commitment, today I played catch up. Here’s a couple of theatre facts for you; some theatres specialize in plays that are over a hundred years old. (Don’t ask me why.) Second fact – most of these plays are absolutely unknown today. Third fact – the reason they’re unknown is because they are bad. Bad! Bad bad bad! I suppose (I know) that there were good things written after Willie Shakespeare and before G.B. Shaw. Must be. Just my luck to be part of a theatre group that is trying to prove otherwise.

Tomorrow starts the third weekend of INHERIT THE WIND. As the director, I tell myself I’m there to make sure the show is consistent in presentation from one performance to another. In truth, that’s one of the tasks the stage Manager handles. Largely my job is to appear sage at the cast party. As do the others, I’ve learned to play my part well.

jb

Searching For The Words

There are arrangements of words on paper which evoke responses from a pliant reader; “I’ve seen what has been seen, done what has been done, dreamed what has been dreamed. With slowing or race of heart I recognize – usually only when I have no precedent for what I’m reading – that I’m vicariously experiencing someone else’s perceptions.”

With that premise in mind, I offer the thought that every good writing begins with a descent into madness; depth is never the result of a casual glance, but rather an unblinking stare, no matter how blinding that stare might become.

And behind the initial impression is always the question – “How do I feel about this?
How do I feel, how do I feel, how do I feel?”

And there’s the problem. Sometimes I get tired of “feeling.”

On the one hand, discovery is a wonderful thing. What does this mean? What is the subtext? Where would this or that naturally lead? To suggest answers, a writer will often step outside him or herself – an observer, rather than a participant, in humanity. Like an
intruding spirit, silently watching. To interject – anything – would alter direction of the story. And the writer, without substance here, would never do this.

On the other hand, there’s the gypsy thing. For months, late at night, I’d hear what sounded like sleigh bells. No kidding. I’d dream about being in a gypsy caravan, going I don’t care where. A friend suggested that I wanted to travel or perhaps move. Could be. This sounded like a real possibility. Strangely, after I started directing the play HARVEY in July, the dreams stopped. I hadn’t thought about that until right now.

During the time I’ve been in rehearsal for one play and then another, even a pretense of observation became impractical. (Other than drinking heavily, nothing isolates you from the attentions of actors.)

Life moves from passive to active. And this is a good thing. Isn’t it? Problems are addressed, insecurities seem somewhat farther away … life is skittles and beer (Don’t ask me. I heard it somewhere.)

But then, with the veneer of humanity imposed, something happens to sensitivity, ya know? No matter how hard you try, the will … hardens, and …

The process starts all over again.

Unless …

Do you know something I don’t?

jb

Last Call.

For those who may have wandered into this saga late, INHERIT THE WIND officially opened this past weekend. The house was slightly more than seventy per cent filled (and for Halloween, this was wonderful. What producer in his or her right mind would open a play on HALLOWEEN?!)

Here’s the cast as they appeared during one of the later rehearsals. Notice few are in costume. With thirty-four people in the cast, the only times we got everybody together on the stage was for performances. Oh well …




Here’s the setting as it was appeared on opening night. In a few places the paint is still wet.

It is my hope that, sometime before we close this thing, I might actually take pictures of all the performers TOGETHER, IN COSTUME, ON THE STAGE!

(Insert heavy breathing here.)

I mean, is that too much to ask?

On the other hand, here's the important part - the show went well, and was received with favorable reviews and glowing individual comments. Since the lead performers are highly respected throughout the state, I anticipate that we will have a most profitable run in every sense of the word.

jb


And how was your day?