All of my life I’ve loved learning.  From the day I realized that letters on a page corresponded to words that we could hear and speak, I’ve loved reading.  I still remember the first book I ever read.  A Berenstein Bears book.

I’ve already relayed my terrifying and horrible public speaking experiences in a previous post, so I won’t rehash it now.  Despite my fear of speaking in front of people, I always enjoyed school.  I loved being around people and stuffing my brain with as much knowledge as I could.  Some classes weren’t as interesting as others (coughcalculuscough), but I still tried my best to know as much as I could.

My sophomore year of college, the summer after I switched from a Computer Science major to a Drama major, I got a job in North Carolina at the Roanoke Island Festival Park as a “historical interpreter.”  In other words, I was a living history re-enactor.  I spent all day dressed up in 16th century garb in 100+ degree heat, talking to visitors about the history of Roanoke Island and how life was back then.  Towards the end of the summer, I had grown comfortable with explaining esoteric topics to visitors and breaking down complex historical facts into entertaining stories.

When I got back to college, I continued developing my acting chops and performed on stage every chance I could get.  My best friends were techies, so I spent a lot of time talking to them about technical stuff and offering my actor point of view on some topics.  I learned a little bit of everything, from set design to lighting design, from prop-making to running the sound board.

Shortly after graduating, I went back to school to get my masters.  During the Fall term, there were two shows with auditions back-to-back.  Of course, I auditioned for both shows.  It turned out that each show had 6 and 12 people in it respectively.  The first show’s cast was almost entirely freshmen, with two upper classmen, while the second show only had three majors in the entire show — the rest were made up of non-majors who happened to be taking Acting that semester.  Professor McPsycho (you might remember her from “Good Things Come to Those Who Wait“) directed that one, and she almost always casts exclusively from her acting classes.

For two weeks after the casting notices went up, the actors of the department griped and complained.  Out of sixty performance majors, only 9 had been cast in a show that semester.  The other fifty-one didn’t have anything to do.  To be fair, maybe 15-20 of those 50 majors weren’t very active in the department.  Still, that left almost 30 actors without something to do!

Thomas Jefferson once said, “and accordingly all experience hath shewn that mankind are more disposed to suffer, while evils are sufferable than to right themselves by abolishing the forms to which they are accustomed.”  This is precisely what happened.  Rather than fixing the problem, the actors chose to bitch and moan about not having a part.  Rather than putting something together themselves, they sat around and complained.

Well, I wasn’t going to do that.  I wanted to be active in the theatre and by the beard of Zeus, it was going to happen.  I went to the department head and asked for permission to produce a show.  He asked who was going to direct it.  I shrugged and said, “I’ll do it.”  He agreed and gave me instructions on putting together a proper proposal.  I spent the next three days in his personal library reading through dozens of plays.  I finally settled on a stage adaptation of George Orwell’s “1984″.

I received final approval of the production in the third week of October, along with a notice that opening night would be November 30th.  That gave me about five and a half weeks to get together a cast, a crew, rehearse, build sets, etc.

Shit.

I got my best friend, a very experienced and knowledgeable techie, to be my stage manager, and I held auditions two days later.  The show could have been done with 8 people, with doubled up parts, but in the interest of student-actor experience, I cast each part individually. I was under a lot of pressure to get this done.  I had no budget, I had no help from the faculty, and I had a very limited time frame (2 hours rehearsal per night, tops).

When all was said and done, the show was a success.  The cast came together and gave stellar performances to sold out houses.

That’s when I discovered I’d been bitten by the directing bug.

I enjoyed the whole learning process, researching the script, putting the set pieces together, blocking, character development, making sure the lights were perfect, the sound cues spot on, advertising.  It was challenging beyond belief, but it was nothing we couldn’t handle.  And in the end, we came together as a team and delivered George Orwell’s 1984 to an audience that loved it.

I loved it, too.

It is with a heavy heart that I bring you news of the death of a very fine and talented actor.  Don S. Davis, whom I know from the role of General George Hammond from Stargate SG-1, passed away on June 29, 2008 from a heart attack.  He was 65 years old.

I’ve always loved Stargate SG-1, as you can see from my post on one of the phrases earlier, “If you immediately know candlelight is fire, then the meal was cooked long ago.” From day one, when SG-1 was on HBO, I saw General Hammond make the toughest decisions a person can make.  Davis did a fantastic job of showing the courage and toughness needed to deal in those situations, while still showing compassion and understanding and caring for those under Hammond’s command.

Last year, I bought Stargate SG-1 Season One on DVD.  When I finished that, I bought season two.  When I finished that, I bought seasons three, four and five, spent months looking for seasons six and seven, wound up buying seasons 8 and 9 to sit on my shelf while I waited for the two I was missing.  Finally found those, and then bought season 10.

I’d sit in my room for days and watch Stargate, and I was disappointed when Don Davis left the show, for health reasons.  I missed his courageous character and great strength.  I feel like I lived through six years of the Stargate team’s lives.

I’m saddened for this loss to the team of one of TV’s greatest sci-fi shows.  I’m saddened for other reasons, as well.  I am going to Dragon*Con this fall, and he was supposed to be there.  I was looking forward to meeting one of my role models.  Now that won’t happen.

Farewell, Hammond of Texas.  May you rest in peace.

Has anyone read the play “The Pillowman” by Martin McDonagh?  I’ve never seen it performed but I read the script recently, and man, is that a fucked up play or what?  I’ve always enjoyed dark plays — comedies, tragedies, whatever — but this one takes the cake.  I was thoroughly horrified throughout the entire script.

What’s the point of it?  Is it just to be dark?  Is it to show how irrational people can be, or how artists need to be careful about the stories they tell, in case someone can’t separate fact from fiction?  Is it commentary on the whole video-games-cause-kids-to-go-on-shooting-rampages thing?

Seriously, someone help me out, cause I sure don’t get it.

I remember the first time I felt regret at growing older. You spend the first decade of life wanting to grow up, grow up, grow up, yet at some point that desire turns upon itself and you would trade anything to be younger. I remember the first time I felt that way. It was 7th grade and just starting Jr. High. I looked at my schedule: English, Math, Social Studies, Science, P.E., lunch, study hall, and an elective. One glaring omission: Recess.

Shit. I miss elementary school already.

Ever since then, I’ve looked back on my early years with happiness, remembering the times when my friends and I would ride our bike to the comic store, play Snake-in-the-Gutter, have snowball fights, play video games, go swimming, build forts and wait on the front porch for the Ice Cream Man to drive by. Sometimes, I wish I were a kid again.

Every once in a great while, however, I will find myself in such a state of happiness and feeling carefree, invincible, as if there were nothing wrong in the world. I can forget about job hunting, relationships, paying bills, and keeping up appearances. Every once in awhile, those memories become real — in my mind, I AM a kid again.

Last night, I went to see Wall-E with my brother and his fiancee. It was the most delightful, charming movie I’ve ever seen. It wasn’t action-packed or even super funny, but it was so cute and full of joy that I couldn’t help but giggle every time Wall-E did anything. Last night, I was a kid again.

The story follows a little robot, Wall-E, whose sole job is to pick up trash and compact it into little squares and pile up the squares. There are no humans around and all of the other robots that Wall-E passes are broken and immobile. Occasionally, he scavenges parts and finds little trinkets that amuse him, but most of all, he looks to the sky and wonders what’s out there. One day, he finds out.

For the first half of the movie there is virtually no talking, other than Wall-E and Eve (a visiting robot). And even then, all they say is “Wallllll-eeeeeeee!” and “Eeeeeeeeeeve!” Yet you get every emotion Wall-E has (yes, robots have emotions here.. it’s a Pixar movie, get over it!). You feel bad for Wall-E when things go wrong, happiness when they go right, fear when he’s in trouble, elation when he makes it through.

And over and over again, you think “Awwww”.

The artists and animators at Pixar have, in the past decade, become master storytellers. Each story up until now contained vast amounts of dialogue, but Wall-E shows their skill at telling a story without the use of too many words. Each word is carefully added and considered, and any word that is uttered brings that much more poignancy and emotion to the scene. Even saying “Wall-E” and “Eve” in various ways conveys emotions and meaning that one would be hard pressed to see in real life.

For you actors, directors, producers, playwrights, designers, take a lesson from Wall-E and Pixar. Try and tell the same story with fewer words. You’d be surprised at the result.

Do your inner child a favor. Take your family and go see Wall-E today — and feel free to giggle hysterically. It’s okay.

Really.

Perhaps I should include more popular phrases from TV shows or movies in my blog (I am your father), since that seems to be the only traffic I get lately (You want the truth? You can’t handle the truth!).  You see, awhile back I wrote a blog about a phrase from one of my favorite TV shows “Stargate SG-1″ (It took us 15 years and 3 super computers to MacGyver a system for the gate on Earth.) and roughly 2/3rds of my 35 average daily visitors come from people searching for that phrase.

Kind of odd, I thought.  (Our affair, like our hotels, had gone from elegant with crystal to seedy with plastic cups.)

Incidentally, I just checked and my post “If you immediately know candlelight is fire, then the meal was cooked long ago” post is the #1 hit on Google for that phrase.  Go me!  Don’t believe me?  Check it out for yourself.

So what does this mean?  This means that maybe 5-8 people are actually reading this thing on a regular basis, and that 2/3rds of my “audience” accidentally made their way here.  (Okay, Radar, state your business, in one word or less.).  That’s not good.

That leaves me some options.  I can shut this thing down and focus on other projects, spending my time browsing other blogs, and make my presence known that way.  Or I could keep this up, keep writing for myself and the handful of people who read (but don’t comment) and wonder at all the visitors who don’t care about theatre and just want to know the meaning of Oma Desala’s phrase. (You’re worth two 43s, 86.)

I guess you’ll have to wait in terrible suspense (I ate his liver with some fava beans and a nice chianti) until next week to see if I keep this up or not.

I wonder how many accidental visits I’ll get now.

Job hunting sucks. Believe me, I know. I’ve spent the past six months doing pretty much nothing but looking for a job with limited success.

It’s painful to look for a job for several reasons. One, you get your hopes up because you like this particular company and this particular position. And then they never return your calls. Second, even the ones you’re not THAT interested in aren’t interested in you. And third, there’s all this paperwork.

To my mind, the third is the most draining of all. I’m an actor. I can deal with rejections — just ask every girl I know (hah!). It’s the filling out the exact same information on every application that drives me nucking futs.

Look at Monster.com, for example. If you go there and try and apply for a job, it asks you to sign up. During this sign up period, it asks you for your name, address, phone number, work history, education history, first-born child, skills, etc, etc.

Great! I’m all signed up. Now, looking for jobs should be easy, right? I click the Home button on Monster, go back to the main page, and then I search for “web developer” in Atlanta. Tons of stuff. I rub my hands together and laugh a maniacal laugh. I’m going to find a job in no time!

Click on the first job that looks interesting. I click on “Apply Now!”

What’s this? A pop up window? To the website of the company I’m applying to?

And what’s this? Another form? They want my name, address, phone number, email, skills, work history, penis-size, education history, first-born child, ethnicity, gender, and social security number?  Didn’t I just fill this in on Monster?

Argh!

And every job entry is like that. What’s the point? They’re ALL asking for the exact same information, so why can’t they just set up a standardized form to accept from Monster, Careerbuilder, Hotjobs?

Tell you what. How about I send you my resume, if you like what you see and decide to bring me in for an interview, it goes well, and then you extend an offer, THEN I’ll spend 30 minutes filling out an application for your files. Sounds like a good deal, right? That’s what I thought.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to write a script to automatically fill in all these fields for me.

This isn’t really related to anything here, but I wanted to share this.  This is quite possibly the funniest thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life. (Note: Contains audio. Turn on your speakers to hear it. And trust me, you don’t want to miss it.)

For those not in the know, Devilvet recently directed, starring Don Hall, Dave Goss, and Jen Ellison.  Unfortunately, due to a combination of factors, including the recession, high gas prices, rising unemployment (particularly on my part) and a sad-faced clown in a giant mushroom car who assaulted me on the streets of Atlanta with a giant rubber dong, I was unable to attend this most excellent production.

Fortunately, dv is creating an excellent webcomic, which you can check out at The Mammals, for those of us who were unable to attend.

No, this is not just a plug for dv’s webcomic (it’s great, though, check it out here!)  You see, Devilvet and I were Twittering about artists and our relationship with multimedia.  For those of you who missed it, it was a rather nice conversation.  DV  and I Tweet often, so if you’d like to follow along, go visit Twitter’s webpage and sign in, then visit the Director and Devilvet’s twitter pages and click on the “Follow” button to follow us.  I’ll write another post on Twitter, if you need help finding a decent client.  Or you could just use the website itself.

Where was I?  Oh, right, Elvis..  no, wait, artists.  Artists and penguins.  Multimedia.  Whatever.

So dv and I were discussing this issue and he asked:

what are the possiblities if we as theatre artists get over it and become narrative artists using multi-medium approaches?

To clarify, he’s referring not only to use in live productions but in ADDITION to our live performances.  His webcomic (i’m not plugging this webcomic.  dude, seriously.) is a great example of what he’s talking about.  Recently, I wrote a post regarding “While You Sleep” activities that theatres can do to boost revenue.  What Devilvet is doing with The Mammals is the same thing.  It may not be bringing in revenue, but it’s surely bringing in an audience.

So we chit-chatted about artists and media approaches and ultimately, we (by “we” I mean “I”) decided that this was too good of an idea to let up.  Why let audiences see our art in only one medium?  Why not branch out?  Here’s our conversation:

directorsector @devilvet Yes, technology does aid in that example. I’m pretty good at Photoshop/Illustrator, for instance. Let me put it this way, though

directorsector How many of your theatre friends are good at math? Most think the complicated computer stuff like Photoshop et al at least as tough to learn

devilvet well i think people have to learn skills to survive. Math and Photoshop included.

devilvet anyone who doesnt acquire these skills opens themselves to well being a victim

devilvet I increasing think that the future means that specialization in the arts must end. The truly exceptional artist in the future has to be able to utilize much more than an theatrical talent that comes naturally to them. Working hard at things outside your comfort zone that’s not art. thats life. we need a world with les actors waiting to be cast, and rather more collaborators ready willing and excited to share and participate in narrative storytelling. it wont be about pointing actors to their marks. it will be more involving than that

directorsector @devilvet You’re exactly right. Cant do it alone. So how do we go about cultivating artists who explore the realm outside their comfort zone?

So there we are.  How do we, as artists who want to inspire, create and share, expand our grasp of other media using modern technology (or even older techniques)?  And once we’ve learned to do that, to reach out beyond just live theatre, how do we reach out and cultivate other artists to explore other media as well?

I may not be able to draw worth a shit, as I mentioned to devilvet, but I’m pretty damn good with computers.  How can I utilize that expertise to share my art or expand my artistic influence?

What are you good at, besides performances/directing/playwriting?  And how can you tie the two passions together and share your art in other ways?

Congrats to Patti Lupone!  Took her 28 years, but she won again! Best Actress in a Musical Revival.  Great job!

I had heard lots of good things about all of the plays and musicals that were up for the Tony’s this year, but I’m ashamed to admit that I hadn’t had the opportunity to see any of them.  Yet I’m stoked.  I think the presentations were amazing and the performances by the actors and actresses in these dozens of plays and musicals were just absolutely phenomenal.

I was especially impressed with “In The Heights”, “Xanadu” (don’t laugh), and, oddly enough, “Grease”.  I was more impressed with the choreography for “Grease” than anything else.

I love the directing choices behind “The 39 Steps” with the switching of hats and such.  Absolutely brilliant.

I think I may try and take a trip to NYC later this Fall and see as many of these as I can.

As I watched the Tony Awards the other night, I saw several clips from “The 39 Steps” which I had honestly never heard of.  I was fascinated by the way the actors would switch characters.  Sometimes they simply switched hats, other times they had intricate choreography that put one character out of sight just long enough to switch hats or masks or whatnot to change characters.

I imagine this method doesn’t take very long to get used to, much like the puppeteers in “Avenue Q”.  After a few minutes, you don’t even notice the puppeteers — until they want to be noticed.  The same thing probably applies for “The 39 Steps”.

So back to my original point.  The scenes that I saw really got my mind racing about those kinds of possibilities.  I’d often seen similar shows (like Patrick Stewart’s one-man version of “A Christmas Carol”), but I had never really considered it from a directing standpoint.  It’s raised some questions in my mind.

1)  Does the show need to be specifically written with those kinds of mechanics in mind, or could you theoretically adapt regular plays to fit that kind of model?  Could we, say, take Romeo and Juliet and do the same thing, or would massive changes be required?

2)  How much does the audience enjoy that kind of switcheroo?  I imagine there has to be some sort of seamlessness in character changing so the audience doesn’t even think about it.  Another Avenue Q example:  Several times an actor will hand off the puppet to someone else while he leaves the stage to grab another puppet.  Nearly every time, I didn’t notice the hand-off until the actor came back on stage with a new puppet.  If I were to adapt Romeo and Juliet to the “39 Steps” model of switching characters with three or four actors, how do you make it seamless enough that the audience isn’t distracted by the changes?

3)  How can I take these kinds of concepts and apply them to an existing (or new) play in an original or different way?  I don’t want to flat out copy The 39 Steps.  Their switcheroos were flawlessly executed and seamless, but I don’t really want to steal that idea or clone the show.  I don’t want my Romeo and Juliet to be “The 39 Steps” in sheep’s clothing, so to speak.

I’ve been working on a play for the past year or two, and I had a transition planned for the characters, but seeing these clips from the Tony’s has given me some new ideas.  I should pull out that script and see what I can do.