weebelly.com

What have I been doing? (besides sleeping, it seems)
I haven’t posted in a few days and it may be a few more before I start talking about anything meaningful.

I’m in that happy down state after a play has been pushed from conception/inception to, well, in this case, about as far as it will go for now without a full run. I’ve got some real ‘pull-up-your-sleeves’ rewriting to do, but I’m going to let it sit for a while. I did tape the reading, so I can watch it at a later date and see all the painful points again.

For my NEOMFA class I have to write a paper on my “art” and why it’s important or what is relevant about it. That is something I haven’t really thought about, so I find the question quite intriguing and if there’s anyone else out there reading this blog and who is a playwright I would put the question to you as well. Why is the theatre important? What does it do for people? What does it do for you?

Shadows of the Gods

Now, I’m re-reading an article by Arthur Miller entitled The Shadows of the Gods: A Critical View of the American Theater; Harper’s Magazine, 1958 Aug; 217: 35-43. It is a speech he delivered, to whom I don’t know, but has some very interesting points in it.

I’m not going to address the question now, as I’m writing a paper that will. When I’m done, I’ll choke up the blogosphere with the results. In the mean time, I’ll mention a few points that Miller discusses that I find interesting, and then link to a blog entry by someone who has a completely different take on Miller. But, as I’m using this article in my paper and I’m only half way through a serious re-read, I’ll not be considering it too much either.

1. Miller mentions, in passing, that ‘professionalism develops only as a result of having repeated the same theme in different plays’; p35
2. He was ‘shaped’ as a person by the Great Depression and says that the time period gave him “a sense of an invisible world” and that “The hidden laws of fate lurked not only in the characters of people, but equally if not more imperiously in the world beyond the family parlor…” and this led him to a profound interest in process–“How things connected” p36
3. For him playwriting and art became a way of addressing or answering “the practical problem of what to believe in order to proceed with life.” p36
4. “‘The structure of a play is always the story of how the birds came home to roost.’ The hidden will be unveiled; the inner laws of reality will announce themselves.” p37
5. “There is a hidden order in the world. There is only one reason to live. It is to discover its nature. The good are those who do this. The evil say that there is nothing beyond the face of the world, the surface reality. Man will only find peace when he learns to live humanly in conformity to those laws which decree his human nature.” (This is what Miller says that Dostoevski’s The Brother’s Karamazov said to him). p37
6. “I connected with Ibsen…because he was illuminating process. Nothing in his plays exists for itself, not a smart line, not a gesture that can be isolated.” p37
7. Finally, one that answers the question I asked above, to some degree: “One had the right to write because other people needed news of the inner world, and if they went too long without such news they would go mad with the chaos of their lives. With the greatest of presumption I conceived that the great writer was the destroyer of chaos, a man privy to the councils of the hidden gods…”

But this is enough for now. The article goes on another six pages and for those interested I highly recommend getting it. If you can’t find it, email me and I’ll run it through the handy-dandy Side Kick scanner I have access to and shoot you a copy of it–marked up as it is. If you’re really nice to me, I’ll make you a fresh copy.

Screenplay time…

I’ve also started reading STORY (imperious) by Robert McKee again. I am going to (finally) go head on at a screen play idea that I have. I’ll talk about it later as I get beyond the “step outline” process I’m doing now. For a screenplay I find that I’m totally throwing aside the process that I advocated for playwriting earlier. For some reason I think that, for my first screenplay at least, structure and control are important. I’ve already got 22 index cards with an ordered listing of scenes. I just need to flesh it out and add more scenes and really get the whole step outline finished an in place. In the mean time, the messy side of me is generating piles of content about the characters, the world (it is futuristic a la Ray Kurzweil), and the events that control their destinies.

I’m having fun with this and so look forward to the process. I know soon enough, like a play I’m writing, this thing will take over my waking mind completely and the fun will morph into a mania that will only expire when I’ve done with the thing–seen it through to its completion and several re-writes and, hopefully, the silver screen.

So the staged reading has come and gone…

If you’d encountered me one 1/2 hour prior to the reading I’d have been a different person than when the reading began. The self that wrote the most recent post: sniveling and wringing and threatening to vomit was in attendance. I touted the opinion of Clyde Simon (who feels that readings should not be done with music stands), and yet, at the 1/2 hour mark wished for nothing more than a few music stands to stop the clumsy acting that was to be.

I feared because in the run up to the performance Clyde re-visited the first part of the script–a part that was last visited 10 days earlier. So, as I watched the actors stumble through this portion of my script I became increasingly aware that in xx amount of time the house would be filled with people watching the stumbling and incoherence I was seeing in front of me. In short, I doubted. It is fitting, for my name is Thomas. And, Thomas is the one who had to feel the wounds of Christ in order to believe. I felt the wounds and I panicked.

For some reason, however, at the moments leading up to the start, I calmed. I met with Mike Geither, who would moderate the post-reading conversation; and I saw Chris Johnston who was the ‘curator’ for Little Box, and somehow, between them, they calmed me: reassured me. I don’t know if it was that they had been there before and ‘felt’ my pain, or if it was that they instinctively trusted (more than I did) the writing that had gotten me there and knew that it would carry through.

Regardless, I knew as things started that I HAD to watch and that I HAD to participate–whatever the storm, I had to pass through it and come out the other side. I was not immune, I had to endure.

The first part of the play went very well. Far better than I could have imagined. This was the part that they rehearsed not an hour before and which led me to near panic. It went fast. It was well executed. It was firing on all pistons. It was funny. The whole in attendance laughed and moved with the piece. I was excited and confident. Then came the second half. The half that took 4.5 hours to get through last Sunday night. As I watched (and listened) I understood why it took 4.5 hours. It was redundant. It was didactic. Preachy. Long. Self-important. Tiresome. And so on and so on and so on. Actually, it wasn’t as bad as that–at least, in listening to others. But I was over-anxious and over-sensitized and overly aware of the flaws and demands that I was placing on people. But it was long. Remember how I mentioned in my most recent post that it was long? It was still long. Very long. My wife stated it bluntly; as did my mother who hedged. But more importantly, I knew. I knew it was long.

But, if the worst thing I can say is that I moderately bored a few people then…I’m down with that. And that, I think, is the case. The worst of it is that I made some people look at their watches–not all, just my in-laws. Okay, cheap shot. And some others too. And I’ll take that. After it was all said and done I was approached by actors I knew from the “community” and other playwrights and they said that it was solid. There was good writing there. And while a few told me that it was almost there and I just needed to focus on the play that I wanted to come out of it; I understood that there was much more good than there was bad; and that the whole point had been realized: this is a staged reading, and its purpose is to make you aware of what is right and identify what needs adjusting.

After that? Who knows, it may just be ready.