Theatre

Saw The Compleat Works of William Shakespeare (Abridged) at a community theatre here on the Cape. I’ve heard of this play but never seen it. It’s delightful. Sooz’s brother was one of the three actors. He performs in upwards of three or four shows a year, while struggling to make ends meet as a landscaper and painter. I have seen him in Feydeau and Miller, and he is certainly talented. I would call him a fixture in Cape Cod community theatre.

Last night’s theatre is a converted town hall on the top of a hill. In what was once the meeting hall on the second floor, a 175 seat ¾ stage has been built. The Sunday night show we attended was at about 25% capacity. We roared with laughter. This play is custom made for the virtues of community theatre: fast paced romping, with just enough smarts to elevate it above Benny Hill, and with copious actor-audience relationship.

Sitting there enjoying it all, I thought of Stanislavsky, who even as he was developing the way of working that would inform western actor training for generations, would still retire to the outdoor gardens of Moscow to delight in a circus, melodrama or Russian vaudeville. We think of him as this super-serious, high-brow teacher. But he enjoyed a good clown as much as we did that night on the Cape. I also imagined a great perch swinging above me over the audience. It is the judgment perch from which the words “good” and “bad” can be uttered by great black-clad birds, carping away in solitary chirping disapproval. But I was glad to be down among the people, in a joyful communion of willing relationship.

During the announcements before the show, the actor told us not to miss the “actor box” on the way out. It’s the box where audience place donations for the actors, who of course are playing for free (the norm in community theatre). On our way out, Sooz and I were engrossed talking about the show, and looking at the photos of other productions there, and we forgot to make a donation. I will be back to today to make remedy.

The light was shining brightly from the stage of the Heritage House Gym on Tuesday morning this week. Griff and his 16 classmates performed my adaptation of the story Follow the Drinking Gourd to a large audience of parents, students teachers and staff. They were marvelous. His kindergarten teacher embraced me after, tears streaming down her face: “I’m so amazed at what you got this group to do”. Griff’s class has been problematic. For a Quaker school which prides itself on peaceful interaction, Griff’s class has been, well, ornery. But in their excitement about and success with the play, I saw again the theatre’s vast potential for teaching things far beyond staging, projection and memorization. These kids learned to work together and cooperate, supporting each other even during the performance (“It’s the Barn now!” I heard them whisper to one another during a scene change). They each had a role, and each also brought to life inanimate objects, buildings, environments, bodies of water and the like through their work as an ensemble. They learned about giving and taking, listening, staying focused, and about working towards a goal while serving a higher purpose.

“Why are we telling this story?” I would ask them during rehearsals.

“Because slavery is evil!” one of them would invariably respond.

I did very little with them that I wouldn’t have done with a group of adult actors. We read the script. We tossed around ideas. We tried some out and kept the ones we liked best. They exhibited the same concerns about status and hierarchy as adult actors do, the same worries about the number of lines they have as opposed to so-and-so, the same anxieties about “getting it right”. They were similarly soothed when I said they didn’t need to fear my judgment. I occasionally intervened in crises and used my authority as director to steer the wayward boat. They rehearsed on book, then off book. Before they opened, I told them the show was theirs, not mine. Same process, different age. One variation I used with them though, was that we began each rehearsal sitting in a circle with moment of quiet. I wonder how that would go over with an adult cast. Here is an excerpt from the script, Griffen played James:

Georgiana: Grandma, I’m hungry.

Sarah: Me too!

James: Follow me into this forest.

The Grave Stones become pigs in the forest, snuffling and snorting.

Molly: Goodness! Look at all these pigs! (A Girl Farmer comes forward with bacon and corn bread.)

Girl Farmer: I have bacon and corn bread for my pigs. But you may have it if you’re hungry.

Georgiana: Are we ever! (The Family eats. The pigs look sad and walk away. They become a river. Peg Leg Joe comes forward.)

Peg Leg Joe: You’ve made it to the Ohio river. Get in my boat and I’ll row you across!

As they row across the river, all sing:

The river ends between two hills,
Follow the drinking gourd.
There’s another river on the other side,
Follow the drinking gourd.

3. The Barn

Ensemble makes barn with floorboards for Family to hide beneath. Master steps forward with Slave Catcher. Family is afraid of them.

Master: Slave catcher, my slaves went this way. Go get them back!

Slave Catcher: I’ll find them! (He begins to look for Family.)

Old Hattie: Oh Lord, what will we do now? (A Mom Farmer and a Dad Farmer come forward.)

Mom Farmer: Family, you have found the Underground Railroad! We hate slavery and we will hide you!

Slave Catcher: Who’s that talking!

Dad Farmer: Quick! Come and hide in our barn! (The Family and the Farmers go “into” the barn.)

***

I worked with this group of six and seven year olds for about a month, one to two hours per day, entirely as a volunteer. The head of the school liked it so much, we are doing it again for the Quaker retirement home down the road called the Quadrangle, the same place which served as inspiration for The Quad, Alice’s home in Actor’s Way.

My author’s copies of Actor’s Way arrived the other day. You’d think I’d jump around the house like a happy toddler. Instead, I began reading it neurotically, and was seized by the fear that these would be on shelves in book stores soon, and that people would read them, and think things about the book and about me. I began wondering if there were witness protection programs for authors. I immediately sent free copies to my Mom and Dad, to my friend Michael, and to the three gents who delivered the glowing blurbs. That leaves me with four. It looks great. I am very happy. And now I wait and see what happens to me, if anything, as it sails out into the world.

Another long-form workshop with Bobbi, this time with a different flavor. There were five of us there in the most dingy rehearsal space in Philadelphia. Our collective moods added to the nasty room made for a greyer workshop, whereas before it felt like all bright colors and celebration. I was still coming down from my reunion weekend and feeling vulnerable about the book. Others were wrestling with concerns of their own. And Bobbi discovered the challenge of having both newcomers and return students in the same workshop. She was biting her nails a lot when we went out to lunch and I spent some time assuring her that it was going well (it was) and that we all learning about it as we went along. Afterwards we agreed to pursue having workshops at People’s Light this summer.

Today, Sooz and I worked on our budget for the next year. It was a bit devastating. Even with the financial help from my father, we were still about 10 grand short for the year. We began tossing ideas around: take Ella out of day care, have Sooz begin a quilting business, sell the house after all. This budget discussion was precipitated by two things: we are signing for a line of credit this afternoon and the car we are buying will hopefully arrive at the dealer next week. I guess I haven’t told you about the accident. About a month ago, Sooz crashed my car on Cape Cod. She was unharmed but the car was totaled. We got $3,500 for it. And after all that longing, we passed on the Prius. Instead we’re staying in the Honda family and getting a new Civic. You have to wait a couple of months for a Prius, and Sooz liked the Civic test drive better We were also swayed by some things we read about the “cost saving” associated with hybrids. The gas powered Civic gets something like 35 MPG combined. So it’s thriftier up front, quicker to acquire and still environmentally friendly.

But we can barely afford it. Our budget meeting lasted two hours and ended with Susan in tears, cursing herself for being an actor and therefore poor, and threatening to drop it all go get an real estate license. Really, we felt in very tight spot. Help me, help me, help me I thought. Then we trundled off to the bank to sign papers.

To our amazement, we discovered that we weren’t getting a line of credit (as we had assumed), we were getting a loan, meaning that a big chunk of change was getting deposited in our checking account in a few days, a chunk of change that we could use to not only pay off the remaining high-interest debt we’re carrying, but will allow us to buy the car outright at fixed rate lower (we think) than anything Honda will be able to offer. And our monthly expenses will actually decrease because of it, when you factor in the credit card and car loans we won’t be paying. Since we will begin to make payments on the whole loan in June (rather than the portion we spend, as with a line of credit) it makes sense to put that money to work right away. But we’ll still have something to use as a safety net going into the fall. As we left the bank I said to Sooz, “Don’t tell me God doesn’t answer prayers”. Then I nearly stepped in front of a moving car in the parking lot and Sooz pulled me back.

We are still short for the year. We still may have to take Ella out of the day care program we love. But this was such welcome news we both were able to take deep breaths, and feel hopeful again. I had a good meeting recently with Mark from Arcadia, I may teach there in some capacity next year. I’ve had an inquiry from the University of the Arts downtown. I’m lining up auditions. And next week, we meet with some friends who have kids our age to talk about child care cooperatives – somehow combining our resources to help each other out. Our small community is working.

But in the community that’s in crisis, my monthly meeting, I have learned of late that one of my dear Friends is considering leaving the meeting and the Society of Friends, so bitter is he about events which have transpired this past year. I hope to be on a Clearness Committee for him, and hope that I may be of some use to him as works through his feelings. He would be a great loss to us.

The kids get home soon. Time to start making dinner.