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Writing from Character

December 13th, 2011 No comments

Silver3 at Conni's

Attended the Writing from Character workshop last night at CPT, which was run by the heroes of Conni’s Avant Garde Restaurant. It was a thoroughly enjoyable experience, and that is good as I was somewhat nervous being one of the only playwrights in a room filled with actors.

 

The workshop, loosely described, is about creating character by using a variety of techniques, including clowning. The main idea being that you have a character in mind based on a prop, and combined with movement and various other techniques you identify some biographical information about your character which then you can develop more fully into three dimensions.

I have been through a variant on this process before in a workshop at CSU. Interestingly, or perhaps not surprisingly, both focused on getting into one’s own body prior to the activity; and it is remarkable how much physicality can influence quirks of character in the development phase.

The evening started with everyone circling up and going through a quick name game to, as much as anything, loosen everyone up. That was followed by a five minute period during which everyone stretched on his/her own just to loosen up. This was the outset of my being thankful for doing, albeit half-heartedly, P90X. The stretch techniques and CardioX came in helpful for not only the stretching but what followed immediately upon it. We were encouraged to move around the room, walking, exploring the space.

We were in the Orthodox Church at CPT which is a quaint, baroque, and highly engaging space. The vaulted ceiling, tumbling into a cupola, is painted the hue of the lightest bluest sky of summer, set off by the brilliant gold paint liberally scattered about. The silhouette of tree limbs peeped at the windows and the wood floors felt immensely real under my bare feet. (I owe that description to the elevated awareness to which my senses were subject by the exercises. )

The exploration quickly turned to simply walking around the room, engaging the eye on whatever it took rest. Then the pace was increased. We were next encouraged to identify open space between all of the bodies moving about and move through them. Circles circled and then reversed, people dashed diagonally across the space. The clip increased. A rule was added that if you encountered a person you were to turn and move the opposite direction, as if you ricochetted off the individual. We were admonished to keep loose and lithe so as not to bash anyone we might bump into. Next we were encouraged to follow persons. Then to either stop or deflect when we bumped into another. The pace continued and we were encouraged to become aware of those around us, to pick a person and keep him/her in our peripheral vision at all times. Next it was two, then three. My eyes seemed to slide sideways in my head as I became increasingly aware of the breadth of the space around me. When the exercise concluded I was drenched in sweat, and yet was strangely un-tired. As one person described it, it was very much a constant exchange of energy from everyone in the room; and it might have been a sort of sustenance.

We did an exercise where we imagined we had extra limbs; where we contorted our bodies into odd shapes and physical expressions. Next we donned our outfits: pieces of clothing we brought along to help us envision a character. I wore a tremendously gaudy dress splattered with a rainbow of colors; I looked, no doubt, like an Amish Moony. We sauntered the room soon after listening to the coaxing commands of Jeffrey Frace to imagine that we were happy, to imagine that this was the happiest day of our lives, to imagine that we were infinitely desirable: that the world’s leading thinkers sought us out; the leading politicians called us on the phone for advice; etc. We were to inflate ourselves as much as possible and strut about the room greeting all the other inflated personas who inhabited the room. It was quite fun.

Then we sat and picked up a pad and paper and in response to Jeffrey’s commands, created a biography for a character that had emerged for us. The questions: Name, Age, Where from, Education, Key Moment in life, personal eccentricity, Greatest Fear, Greatest Dream, etc, required immediate responses (we were given approximately five minutes in which to get the details of our character in order). Then, as the main body of the workshop attendees sat, some several of us where called up in a group and Jeffrey pummeled us with questions about our biography. Many of the questions required on the spot generation of new facets to our personalities. We were then all given a scenario in which we had to act together: the first group was that a ballet troupe was unable to make their performance and the characters in the group had to fill in; next was the same scenario with Shakespeare replacing ballet; finally, (my group) it was a square dance.

All of these aspects are on view in Conni’s Avant Garde Restaurant at CPT, which ends next week. Wild characters, bursting with energy, are engaged in running a restaurant and in coordinating the cooking and live entertainment for Conni’s guests (i.e. you, the audience).

The workshop concludes tomorrow night with an advancement of the characters we created and a short stint into cooking and working together to create and serve dinner while working in characters. Should be fun!

For those of you who are interested, my character is Schnickel Fritz, a 41-year-old Ponderer from Middletown, Ohio, who talks like Tom Waits. He can’t remember his education only that he became totally enlightened after a rumspringa acid trip. During the trip he realized that certain core tenants of the Mennonite faith coincided with a mix of Japanese zen Buddhist thought as filtered through a Hippy-style smokendum. Fritz’s personal eccentricity includes making animal faces and expressions (as well as accompanying noises) with his beard–but this only happens during periods of great excitement. Fritz’s greatest fear is being forcibly shaved. This also happens to be his greatest dream. One of the more terrible moments in Fritz’s life was when his pet cow Beatrice, a Hereford-Friesian dairy cow, was given over for slaughter to Butcher Langer.

When interviewed Fritz admitted that his sole exceptional feature is Pondering. “I am especially good and noble when it comes to the art of pondering. I love to emponder others. I am in transition. In my youth I was sought out for my great pondering ability and exquisite pondering poses: for which I was featured as a centerfold in Thinker Magazine: the Journal of the Subsupercilious. (Known in certain circles as “the Bent Brow”.) More recently I have traded my stardom for seeking states of non-being in my pondering, concentrating less on the outward form of my poses and more on a deeper sense of nothingness. In this regard, I have taken to assisting others who seek out deep wonderment.”

Conni’s Avant Garde Restaurant

December 4th, 2011 No comments

Overview

Dr. Smith, Mrs. Robinson, and Hunter take the stage.

I went and saw Conni’s Avant Garde Restaurant last night at Cleveland Public Theatre and it was a blast. It was a wonderful theater experience, dining experience, and drinking experience all rolled up into one. A group of friends and I went so we had a table of 10 which set us back $400, but because we purchased tix in bulk it was $40 a pop for the tickets rather than the door price of $60, so we saved some coin by purchasing that way. For $40 a ticket, you get A LOT. The show comes with five courses: appetizers, soup, salad, main course, desert and there are 3 bottles of wine at each table gratis. After that, or more likely before, you’re on your own; but CPT had a wide variety of beverages available for purchase.

How it Works

When you show up and “check in” you’re greeted by nurses who offer you a tray of name badges from which you may choose. You choose the one that “speaks to you.” I was immediately drawn to Amish Barber, and for people who know me they’ll understand why. The nurses have names as well, my favorite nurse was named Pluperfect, a tense that she was quite capable of explaining–and she was correct in telling me that by the end of the evening I will have loved the Conni’s experience: I did.

Silver3 gives her introduction

After the name selection bit, you are provided with appetizers and mingle around the CPT bar in the Gordon Square space. You eat some, drink more, and mingle around with all the other strangely named sojourners on your trip. After a bit, a trumpet sounds out and begins playing (very New Orleans like) and a dirge-like procession begins of the main Conni’s inhabitants. One of them holds aloft a photograph of Conni, who cannot be at the event that night. Once the folks from Conni’s are in place, the ground rules for the evening are laid out. Once all is in order, a curtain is pulled back and everyone enters the main dining room and is seated. To get a sense check out Silver3’s page on Facebook.

Silver comes in and does her introductions, as Ms. Conni cannot do it herself. The grand introduction is interrupted however by Dr. Smith, who is totally naked and being chased by all of the nurses. Gee, what a predicament… The plot kicks in, which revolves around the pregnancy of Muffin Handshake, but I wouldn’t hang your hat on the plot too much. The show is more mayhem and frolic. Large amounts of drinking, eating, and merry-making ensue. Songs are sung with appropriately modified lyrics; children’s books are read, with appropriately modified thematics;

Muffin Handshake reads the Little Match Girl to Bee and Bear

Mrs Robinson the rocker took my wife and went off somewhere to chang pants with her; Miss Goodi Two Shoes caressed my beard; Dr. Smith gave several at our table prescriptions to shotgun a Pabst; a hunter shot a deer which turned into brussels sprouts; Mr. X sang fantastic rock ballads as a lounge singer; a woman was inseminated by a large purple worm; later, the resulting baby was moved from one womb to another through an astonishing moment of female-to-female scissor action driven forward by the thumping rhythms of Led Zeppelin; the chef kept cooking, everyone at the table kept eating and drinking; an interactive game show popped up at which my brother-in-law Dave Rogers did fantastically; everyone bantered with nurses and took pictures; and the general manager made sure everything worked out without a hitch.

It was theater the way theater should be: alive, filled with energy and excitement, a thing in which everyone was and wished to be involved.