The Moral of the Problem
Wednesday, February 27th, 2008In my previous post, Problem Solving Skills, I talked about how Scott Walters has identified several problems that plague the current LORT theatre world and how he has recently moved on to proposing possible solutions. On a challenge from Devilvet, Mr. Walters has provided a short four point proposal for getting the status quo to shift to more favorable terms.
I had a point with my last post, but I got distracted and wound up writing about something completely different. This time, I’m going to go back to my original post.
I began talking about Mr. Walter’s blog because it provides a direct parallel to something that I see in my alma mater’s theatre all the time. It’s hard to walk into the dressing room, costume shop, scene shop or green room of this theatre without running into at least one person complaining about the administration’s shortcomings. So-and-so didn’t do this, or such-and-such didn’t do this, so Joe Schmoe can’t do this. Blah blah blah.
Let me give a more specific example. At this particular theatre, we are wrapping up a production of Fiddler on the Roof. Apparently, on this past Sunday there was supposed to be a photo call immediately following the show. Unfortunately, none of us (including the director) were made aware of this until intermission on Sunday’s performance. Several actors sat in the dressing room and green room while waiting for their next entrance. All they did was bitch and moan about how they weren’t given advance notice and they had better things to do. They pointed out the facts that we didn’t receive rehearsal schedules, there were no announcements made, and somebody fucked up and by God, it’s not our fault.
That’s fine and dandy, fellas. But what are you going to do about it? Instead of going to the stage manager and/or director and relating their concerns, the cast bitched and moaned about the problem. They identified the problem. They talked about the problem. They repeated the problem again. The thing is, these guys were preaching to the choir. We should have been given advance notice, and the entire cast shouldn’t have to suffer for one person’s fuck-up. But the cast didn’t do anything to improve the situation. They simply restated the problem over and over to each other.
This kind of thing happens all the time. All — the — time. A few years ago, an entire semester worth of shows was cast in the first two weeks of the school year. The two shows were of small casts (8 people each). To make matters worse, half the cast of the first was also cast in the second. Why is this a problem? There were over thirty performance majors who wanted parts, and half the people cast weren’t even drama majors. Of the thirty-plus performance majors, only four had been cast in either show. What did the rest of the department do? They bitched and moaned about it.
Finally, I had enough. As a graduate student, I said “Guys, if you want parts so badly, propose a play for you guys to do, pick a director, and put a show on yourselves.” They looked at me like I was crazy.
“No,” they replied. “It’s the department’s duty to provide us with performance experience.”
I’ve always been of the opinion that I would only help those who helped themselves first, but for some unknown reason, I stepped up to the plate. I picked and proposed a play, got it approved, and cast 12 more performance majors for a show that semester. That’s 12 people who wouldn’t have gotten a part otherwise.
That was my first directing experience, fraught with mistakes and screw-ups. But I helped them out by providing a solution rather than expounding upon the problem.
So what’s the moral of this convoluted post? (It’s past 4am, so please forgive me if it seems like rambling.)
The moral: once you’ve identified the problem, figure out a solution. Re-identifying the problem only wastes time, resources, emotions, and energy.
Mr. Walters is well on the way to providing a series of alternatives to the Nylachi way of theatre life. Let’s support him and create a tribal force to be reckoned with.
