For both of my faithful readers, I’ll be visiting Chicago from this coming Tuesday until September 1st.  I got a contract job doing web development, so I’ll be there working during the day.  However, I’d love to meet some of you Chicago theatre people if I can get the chance.

If you’re willing, let me know and I’ll see what I can do about setting up meetings or dinners or theatre visits or whatnot.

I’m pretty excited.  I’ve never been to Chicago, but I’ve always wanted to go!

Finally, someone who agrees with me:

In New York the standing ovation is now a meaningless nightly ritual. Unless the show is a real stinker a Broadway audience will leap to its feet almost before the curtain has fallen. I’ve always assumed this had two explanations. One is that, if you’ve paid 100 bucks or more for a ticket, you have to justify to yourself the worth of your investment.

(source: http://blogs.guardian.co.uk/theatre/2008/07/standing_ovation.html )

Thank you, thank you, thank you.  I went to see a recent performance of RENT at The Fox Theatre in Atlanta, and I was severely disappointed.  The lighting was horrible, the set was cramped, the acting was sub-par, the vocals were weak, the sound system cut out repeatedly… Honestly, there were very few positive aspects to the performance.  And as soon as the show was over, the entire house jumped to their seats and applauded with a Standing O.

What?  I was astounded.  I stubbornly remained in my seat.

I reserve a Standing O for a performance that really moves me, such as a performance I saw of “The Heart is a Lonely Hunter” that left me in tears at the end or the performance of “The Lion King” I saw in Toronto many years ago that left me giddy as a child.  But for a completely sub-par or even average performance, I’m not standing up.

It’s kind of like voting.  Standing O is a “You did a great job!” and sitting down is, at best, “It was pretty good, but not great”.  At worst, there’s an empty seat because the audience member left at intermission.  That means “You suck ass”, by the way.

As an actor, I don’t want a Standing O unless we really, truly deserve it.  A friend of mine, Andrew, played Bazzard in a recent production of “The Mystery of Edwin Drood.”  His bit part completely blew the rest of the show out of the water.  At the end of the performance, the audience remained seated during curtain call until Bazzard’s appearance, at which they stood up and started cheering wildly.  THAT is a Standing O.  THAT is a meaningful gesture.

Like our friend in the UK, I believe the Standing O has, in general, become a meaningless gesture.  If it ain’t good, don’t stand up.

Last Fall I directed a play called “The Faculty Room”.  Unfortunately, it didn’t really connect with most of the audience.  It was one of those plays where you had to really pay attention to every word, and if you missed anything, you’d be lost.  There was one kid that I knew, still in high school, that came to see the show.  I kept my eye on him throughout the performance.  He was rapt with attention.  He was so into this play, he couldn’t take his eyes off the stage.

At the end of the show, he jumped to his feet, applauding like mad.  Most of the rest of the audience looked at him like he was insane, but they applauded anyway.

To me, that’s perfectly fine.  So the kid loved it and the rest of them thought it was at least decent enough to stay through the end of the show.  I’m okay with that.  It gives me feedback, and it tells me something about what the audiences want.

Do me a favor.  Reserve your standing ovation for performances that truly deserve it.  Don’t do it because you think you’re supposed to.  It’s okay if you don’t like the show.

So I ran into a roadblock.

My first draft sucked.  Royally.  I’m rewriting it with some insight from friends about the structure and what makes a one-man show really tick.

Still shooting for an end of the week finish with the script.  Such speed is possible when one works on a 5 minute show, after all.

I take refuge in the words of Wil Wheaton, “It’s okay to suck.”

Thanks, Wil.

Last week I mentioned I was working on my storytelling skills.  Yeah.  It’s going okay. I’m in the process of developing a few ideas into finished pieces, none of which are very far along.  The stories are all in my head; now it’s just a matter of putting them on paper.

The first is a story I’m writing in prose.  My first draft was nearly 25,000 words.  In the end, I hated it, so I basically scrapped it.  I’ve still got it around, but i restarted the story, now that I have a firmer grasp of the world and the mechanics and what makes a story good as opposed to boring.  The hard part is putting aside time to work on this.  Got plenty of ideas floating around in my head, but this is one of those things that I’m trying to let the story just take on a life of its own and let the inspiration come as I go along.

The second is a short (15-20 minute) musical about a homeless guy.  Should be interesting, but I’ve still got to work on the concepts and work out the whole script.  I’ve got it all storyboarded in my mind, I’ve just got to get it on paper.  Hopefully, this will wind up as a short film to be uploaded online a la YouTube.

The third is a more challenging exercise.  I don’t have a digital camcorder yet, so I’m reduced to using a webcam that I have.  I also don’t have any other actors or local friends who could participate, so it’s basically going to wind up being a one-man show.  The challenge here is to make something entertaining when it’s just me sitting in front of a webcam.  I’ve got some ideas and a rough draft for the first “episode” written out.  I’ve got to flesh it out, tighten up the script, fix the lighting in the room, and make a test run.  Hopefully I’ll have that done by the end of the week.  I’ve got general concepts lined out for the next two “episodes”, but beyond that.. no idea.  I think if I could get some other people with webcams to participate, I could do some cool stuff, but right now I want to see if I can get this one-man, no budget, on location show to work.  Then we’ll move on from there.

One thing I’ve learned recently is that I’m not much of a creator.  I’m much better at taking someone else’s ideas or writings and adapting them or improving them.  I don’t really do a good job when I create things from scratch.  Not sure why.

But maybe this is one of those things where practice makes perfect.  So I’m giving it a shot.

We’ll see how it goes.

If you haven’t seen this yet, you need to watch it TODAY (starting on July 21st, they’ll start charging to watch it.  It’s free til then!).

Check it out at www.drhorrible.com.

This is the brainchild of Joss Whedon, creator of such brilliant shows as Buffy, Firefly and Dollhouse.  He was inspired to do this during the writer’s strike earlier this year.   It’s a super-villain musical, starring Neil Patrick Harris (Doogie!) and Nathon Fillion (Mal from Firefly), as well as Felicia Day (I believe she played Vi on one season of Buffy).

Yes, it’s a musical.

Yes, Doogie can sing.

Yes, Nathan can sing.

It’s hilarious.
This is exactly the kind of stuff I want to do.

I haven’t been this excited in years.

Anyway, Acts I and II are out, Act III comes out tomorrow, the servers are likely to crash, but never fear — iTunes is here.  I bought all three episodes for $4, so if you feel inclined to trust me on this, go to the iTunes store and buy it.  It’ll be on the front page of the iTunes store, I promise.

Check it out.  You won’t regret it, especially if you’re already a Whedonite.

I was talking with a friend the other day regarding her choice to leave NYC to move back to her hometown.  Eventually, the conversation turned to a point where she said “I did the regional theatre thing in Birmingham, AL and in Charlotte, NC.  After awhile, I felt like I was 24 going on 40 and NYC was the next logical step if I was going to continue on my chosen path.”  Something like that anyway.

My question is… why?  Why is NYC the “next logical step”?

I’ve got another friend whose main desire is to move to Chicago and break into theatre at Second City.   Ignoring the fact that Second City isn’t exactly a roadmap to SNL anymore, he’d love to be on that show at some point in his career.  He’s willing to pack it all up and live out of his car if he has to.

Again… why?

I’m not very experienced in the professional theatre world, and I’ve only had a couple of professional theatre gigs, so feel free to tell me I’m an idiot and blathering about things I know nothing about.  Regardless, I’m pretty sure that places like Second City and Broadway shows and such don’t just have open auditions all the time.  I’m pretty sure you can’t just walk in there one day, hand them a resume and headshot and expect to join their regular cast.

I’ve been to many professional plays, as I’m sure many of you have as well.  Look at the programs.  In most of the Broadway shows on tour, or shows that are attempting to move to Broadway or whatever, I see “MFA in Acting” or “32 years of experience” or something listed next to every single major character in the shows.  Recently, I’ve noticed a lot of “Runner-up on American Idol in 2006″ or “Winner of South African Idol 2005″… but the point is that most people who work for big-name touring companies doing popular shows often have years and years of experience and/or an MFA of some sort.  These people didn’t just walk in off the street, hand in a resume, and get cast in big time PAYING roles.

Getting cast in a major show is only about half talent — the rest is networking and luck.  Being in the right place at the right time and knowing the right people.  And even then, that’s just not going to happen on its own — it takes work.  It takes you getting off your ass and going to auditions, going to workshops, taking classes, reading up on the latest and greatest in theatre news.  Get known.

I feel reasonably confident that I could move to Chicago and at least get my foot in the door a lot faster than my friend, simply by virtue of the fact that I “know” many of you in Chicago.  My friend doesn’t know a soul there.  Is this luck?  No, this is me getting my name out there so that when I do try and make it, I’ve got connections — weak, tentative maybe, but they’re there.

I told my friend who wants to go to Second City, I said “Get your name out there in a regional theatre.  Get some professional gigs under your belt.  Find a teacher — not one who’s going to baby you, but one who’s going to push you and tell you when you suck, when you rock, and how to get better.  The stuff you learned in college is crap compared to what you’ll learn out there.  Once you’ve got a few years under your belt doing solid professional work, and you’ve made some good connections, THEN move to Chicago and try and get into Second City.  You’ll be a lot better prepared and a lot more likely to get in than if you just walked in next week.”

Fortunately (i hope), he took my advice.  I really really think he’s one of the most talented comedians I know and has a great stage presence and skill in entertainment, but the fact of the matter is that’s not going to go very far on its own.  Talent isn’t a one-man show — it’s part of an ensemble.

Anyway, I may be completely wrong with this, but based on observations and what I’ve heard from the experienced people out there, I’m pretty sure I’m close to right.  I’m taking my own advice and trying to get my name known in a regional theatre setting before setting my sights on a larger city like Chicago or NYC.   Well, that’s the plan anyway.  Right now I just need a job.

So, to answer my friends… no, I don’t think NYC or Chicago is “the next logical step”.  Not until you’ve got enough experience, connections, and know-how to succeed.

One of my good friends and I have this conversation at least once a week.  Either Andrew or I will show the other a video or animation and inevitably one of us says “Damn.. I wish I had thought of that first.”  One such video was a Matrix-style shoot-out using only their hands.  You know how you point a finger and someone and go “Bam!” like you just shot them?  In this video, kids in a gym did that, and blood appeared, and they instantly scattered and had a shoot-out.  It was pretty fascinating.

The most recent one of these wasn’t sent to me by Andrew (I did forward it to him, however).  This particular one isn’t a single video, but a series of videos created by two guys at CollegeHumor.com.  It starts out with one guy pulling a prank on the other and videotaping it.  Naturally, the second guy has to pay him back, so he pulls another prank.  And the prank war escalates.  The final prank is one of the most sadistic things I’ve ever seen in my life (Don would probably love it).

Devilvet has written recently about how artists should expand their art across several media.  We’re mostly theatre artists here, but one thing that’s really close to theatre is film.  With the proliferation of amateur (not to be confused with amateurish) films on YouTube and other such services, reaching a vast audience has never been easier.

For your viewing pleasure, watch the College Humor Prank Wars (start from the bottom and work your way to the top.  trust me, they’re hilarious) and think about ways that you can utilize short, five-minute films to expand your audience.

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.