Two Weekends in September

Good kitty.

Outdoor Theater of a Different Kind

The remnants of this late season has included bouts of strong summer storms, bringing down trees and flooding cities. So is the harbinger of catastrophic climate change. And yet, we get out. To enjoy what the urban outdoors has to offer, because we know the days are drawing far too short and sometimes it snows in September.

Last weekend, I took a three hour stroll through the streets of Cleveland with two hundred of my closest friends, attending Micro Theater CLE: Tremont Reloaded. And what I witnessed was a cavalcade of performances:

A short play about a fork in the road set in a dead end street, a multimedia performance about childhood trauma executed in an attic, a laconic chain-smoking improviser, lazing on a chaise lounge in someone’s driveway, and so much more!

And as usual, I provided the cat poop in the sandbox.

To be sure, I received so many positive marks about my brief solilokitty ("Stray") which was a surprise to those who were prepared to enjoy a series of silly stories told by dopey dogs. Then this feline arrived (performed with cat-like reflexes by the always adorable Katelyn Cornelius) to unwind an inscrutable saga about their transition from feral stray to pampered rescue cat.

Folks were moved, it stuck with them, which is only natural. Cats have depth. Dogs are dumb.

Molded From the Clay

For three seasons now, Cleveland playwright and impresario Stuart Hoffman has produced a series of creepy plays in September (Advent for spooky season) at Wizbang! in Cleveland Heights. If you have never been, Wizbang is homebase for circus performers Pinch & Squeal (Jason and Danielle Tilk) offering offbeat entertainments and clever concoctions in intimate digs festooned with fabulous frippery.

This year, Hoffman opened his roster of supernatural stories to include those by other playwrights with Out of the Kiln: When Your Past Haunts You, and so on Friday evening our senses were cooled by unnatural infestations, comic tales of torture, playful poltergeists, and a literal throwing of hands.

The night concluded with a rendition of “The Hearse Song” delightfully choreographed by Millie Sherin which was unsettlingly sexy.

Mike Frye, Mindy Herman, Keith Kornajcik 

Back to the Shop

If last week’s trek through Tremont was summer’s curtain call, participating in Pandemonium last night was opening night for fall.

Cleveland Public Theatre’s annual gala is an enormous party, this year celebrating the extensive renovation of the (former) Russian Orthodox Church space which is now fully accessible.

We were on the other side of the campus, the folks from Micro Theater CLE provided a stage to present a cycle of 10 minute plays. The stage was located outside the scene shop; at the first Pandemonium, over twenty years ago, I had produced a series of Neo-Futurist plays inside the scene shop for audiences seated inside the freight elevator, arriving every fifteen minutes.

I done lots of Pandemonium.

My offering this evening was Lombardo (also directed by Millie Sherin!) in which a character-free young man from LIFE interviews Guy Lombardo about his switch from radio to TV for his New Year’s Eve broadcast. A short play meant to take the piss out of bad biographic plays, I made a point not to include any data I couldn’t find on Wikipedia.

The scene was stolen by Mindy Herman as Lombardo’s wasted wife Lillibell. One of my colleagues observed, “I always love your woman characters,” which is funny because Lillibell is a parody of all those poorly drawn female characters.

Speeches were made, performances were witnessed, the massive, tented dance floor opened just as the clouds did, and I was in bed by eleven.

Welcome, autumn!

Pandemonium 23

Saturday night was my tenth experience at CPT’s Pandemonium. This does not even include the time I sent the actor-teachers to conduct the Where the Wild Things Are residency with a throng of partying adults.

I have written short plays, I have performed in plays written by others. Last year’s experience was good, and I was very happy with not only how James and Sarah performed Here’s To You, Mrs. Robinson but also how well it was received. The next day, however, I developed Covid symptoms and though it didn't time out that I contracted the illness there, it was very likely I shared it, which was upsetting to me. I decided to sit it out this year.

But then Melissa Crum contacted me about participating in a piece she was directing and I said, well, why not? And I am very glad I did.

The Heart in the Wind was conceived by Raymond Bobgan, and while I will refrain from breaking down exactly how it worked (not my tale to tell, and besides, as they say, you had to be there) a team of mechanicals focus on a single party goer, in a private space, and invent a poem specifically for them which is then shared with a larger audience.

Missy asked me to be the person who invited people into the tent, and it was I who interviewed these subjects. I understood why she asked me to play this part, because this is what I do. My experience as an actor-teacher, and in coaching actor-teachers means I have a skill at asking total strangers meaningful questions about themselves.

It was a warm, powerful, and immersive experience. One of our subjects was a self-described mother and caregiver, who was surrounded by her husband and three big, adult sons and the experience brought joyful tears and embraces.

I had my own personal, immersive experience during dress rehearsal (on the night we were too engaged in our own work to engage any other of the offerings) when I read a children’s story to a mermaid. The experience brought me to tears. I haven’t been so moved since the witches’ house at Sleep No More.

My own work has been largely cerebral, and it has been challenging for me to think outside of crafting scripts for actors to learn and speak – though there is power in that, as evidenced by Step Nine at BorderLight last month. But these opportunities, for audiences of one, they can resonate, they last, like a fondly remembered dream, and I wish I could tap into that power. For that I may need to right collaborator, and I think I know who they might be.

Pandemonium 22

In rehearsal with
James Rankin & Sarah Blubaugh

The past year we have been digging deeper in the dirt of our subconscious.

Both in-class writing exercises and writing assignments have yielded some remarkable results. The Ocean Breathes Salty, a ten-minute play presented at the 2022 NEOMFA Playwrights Festival was the end result of a homework assignment. An in-class assignment yielded my contribution to Cleveland Public Theatre’s Pandemonium 2022, Here’s To You, Mrs. Robinson.

Yes, so many of my plays feature titles or lyrics from popular songs. And I think that’s cool.

In brief, this short play is the story of two young adults who meet by a neighborhood creek to get high. Rehearsing this scene with performers James Rankin and Sarah Blubaugh has been a joy, and I am really looking forward to learning how it plays in the space we have been assigned at the party.

Our performance space is a shipping container, an honest-to-goodness corrugated metal shipping container. It’s not an open space, but it’s not a secluded space. There will be bands nearby and lots of folks coming and going. And yet, we have crafted an intimate two-person piece about transgression and acceptance. Kink and communication. It is a bit raunchy and full of joy.

The theme for the party this year is “doors of imagination” so I thought it only appropriate to pitch a piece I had written about opening those passageways to desire that we would otherwise choose to keep entirely sealed.

This week we get our technical rehearsal in the shipping container. Huh. I think we will give a whole new meaning to the term shipping container. GET IT?

Cleveland Public Theatre presents PANDEMONIUM: THE DOORS OF IMAGINATION this Saturday, September 10, 2022.

The Witches (process)

"The Witches" at Pandemonium
(Cleveland Public Theatre, 2019)

History is marked with terror, in America as it is in the rest of the world. There are monuments and memorials to moments of great suffering and tragedy which are peaceful sites of reflection, like the Vietnam Veterans Memorial, or the Salem Witch Trials Memorial.

Then there are the museums, houses of artifacts and exhibits. Some are an attempt to rectify previously unacknowledged history, as they have been working to do at Monticello; some are meant to memorialize recent events like the National September 11 Memorial Museum in Manhattan. These efforts have also received their share of criticism.

What does it mean that there are for-profit tourist traps and wax museums exploiting such curiosities as Bonnie & Clyde’s Death Car, the actual mummified remains of mental health patients, and, of course, the Salem Witch Trials?

Two and a half years ago we workshopped the first scene I had written for The Witches at Pandemonium, the annual gala for Cleveland Public Theatre. It was there that I understood (once again) the inherent difficulty in pairing comedy with horror.

Salem Witch Dungeon Museum

We are attempting to walk the line between satire (n.: the use of humor, irony, exaggeration, or ridicule to expose and criticize people's stupidity or vices, particularly in the context of contemporary politics and other topical issues) and the reality of misogyny, generational trauma, capital punishment, child abuse, and on and on. It’s not funny, this being burned alive business.

In spite of having to miss a week’s worth of rehearsals due to class, family obligations and the playwrights festival, I have been engaged in the process of revision, listening to our actors, trying to make it all clear. I can be obtuse, you know. Editing has happened.

I wrote speeches. Some work. Some do not. There were also a number of Hamilton references which in 2022 are embarrassing like naked baby pictures are embarrassing. No one wants to see that shit.

There’s a lot of stuff in the words, and yet, not enough stuff. There’s also jokes. I am going to be sitting in the back next weekend, paying close attention to what gets laughs – and what does not.

To be continued.

Cleveland Public Theatre presents THE WITCHES as part of Test Flight, a showcase of new works, March 3, 4 & 5, 2022.

Pandemonium 19

Bryce Evan Lewis & Adrionna Powell Lawrence
in rehearsal for a scene from "The Witches"

Some years I have offered ten-minute plays to the folks at Cleveland Public Theatre for their annual Pandemonium gala, others scenes from full-length plays in progress. Eight years ago it was a scene from These Are The Times, in 2012 a brief sketch of a scene which would eventually become Adventures In Slumberland.

Currently I am working on a full-length play titled The Witches, a comedy which ties together my love of roadside attractions, American history and the world of non-profit education.

In the back of my mind I have wanted to write a play about the Colonial Witch Panic of 1692, but it’s one thing to want to have written something and another to know what it is that you want to say. Recent events have inspired me, and characters have been populating my mind. The plot has been slowly unfolding and I look forward to where it will all end.

A few weeks ago a colleague messaged me in the middle of the day asking, “We are in Salem. Any tips?” It’s always flattering when someone looks to you for advice as where to go in a certain location, you feel like a world-renown traveler. I quickly rattled off a short list of places appropriate for a family with teenagers and young adult children, places cheesy, stately, and of course a place to eat that would make everyone happy.

For this new script, however, I wanted to create a fictional city. Citizens in villages surrounding Salem, like in Andover, Beverly and Topsfield were also charged. What if we created a small city whose claim to fame was only one accused of witchcraft? And what if a popular YouTuber was on a cross-country road trip and stopped in to fictional Bradbury, Massachusetts to check out the state’s 27th most-popular witch-themed attraction?

The scene we are presenting Saturday evening is a midnight visit to the Bradbury Memorial Cemetery on the first day of spring, directed by Kim Seabright Martin and featuring Bryce Evan Lewis, Adrionna Powell Lawrence, Maggie Stahl and Lisa L. Wiley.

Cleveland Public Theatre presents "Pandemonium 2019: Alchemy" this Saturday, September 7, 2019.

Plays of Regret

"Screen Play" at Pandemonium
Brian Pedaci & Toni K. Thayer

re·gret (rəˈɡret)

verb 1. feel sad, repentant, or disappointed over (something that has happened or been done, especially a loss or missed opportunity).

noun 1. a feeling of sadness, repentance, or disappointment over something that has happened or been done.

Groundhog Day

Why does the movie Groundhog Day work? I mean, the premise is facile, but inspired. One person wakes up on the same day, day after day, seemingly for eternity.

It could easily be a horror film, like an episode of the Twilight Zone, a "No Exit" situation, in which our protagonist is driven to madness. When he is finally released and it is finally February 3rd, he’s a gibbering, quivering mess, or unleashes unspeakable violence on the citizens of Punxsutawney before being carted away in a loony wagon.

Instead it's a somewhat broad romantic comedy that includes one unfortunately dated homophobic gag.

Bill Murray plays the main character, and he's a complete jerk. But he’s not the only jerk, there's a lot of jerks in this movie. I couldn't help but imagine that piano teacher and her decision, every single time, to accept a sizable amount of money to kick her adolescent student out of the house. Man, that girl looks really sad and confused.

Also, Chris Elliott. That’s all, just, Chris Elliott.

Watching the film for only the second time the other night ("don't @ me") I was impressed by the structure. The different phases our man goes through, confused, manic, suicidal, resigned, driven. But I was not only amused by but disturbed by Murray’s performance. I’m not sure he changes as much as people want to believe he has.

He fails when he takes an easy route into into Andie MacDowell’s pants, by discovering and memorizing her favorite things, and then repeating them back to her. But aren’t his long-term efforts at becoming a full-actualized human being the same thing, only more sophisticated? Does he learn languages and philosophy and boogie-woogie piano because he wants to, or because that is what it will take to attain the acceptance of the only person in town he apparently can't bamboozle?

Nailed it.

He accumulates several lifetimes of experience and practice, an autodidact’s liberal education, but he’s still kind of a jerk. He bathes in his own cleverness. I mean, Bill Murray always does. However, I believe that fact is the film’s redeeming quality, that he does not become an entirely different person. He changes, yet he does not. The best that can be said is that he does not seem to hate himself anymore. It's not even about her. Do we not all hope for that kind of radical change?

“How old I will be by the time I learn to really play the piano/act/paint/write a decent play?" The same age you will be if you don’t.
- Julia Cameron, The Artist’s Way

Groundhog Day was released when I was twenty-five. Half my life ago, with so much in front of me, I wasn’t particularly touched by his dilemma. At the age of fifty, which of us would not -- barring the opportunity to actually go back in time and change things -- take the opportunity afforded from one single day, repeated over and over, to make up for lost time? Reliving, reliving, and recreating. The young man finds it amusing. The older man just sees his own life and thinks, what have I been doing with my many varied days?

Make no mistake, Groundhog Day is ultimately a movie about regret. Because there are no do-overs, we cannot relive a moment to get it right. It is a fantasy of longing for the one who got away.

Plays of Regret

Several of my plays have been inspired by brief, passing encounters, expanded upon and brought to their ultimate, extreme conclusion.

Twenty years ago, in 1998, four playwrights (David Bell, Suzanne Miller, Toni K. Thayer and myself) collaborated to create a new work for Dobama’s Night Kitchen titled Cole Cuts. Set in a trendy, late 90s cocktail bar, each fifteen minute piece was to include a lesser-known song by Cole Porter, performed live by the company, piano by the incomparable Michael Seevers.

"Cole Cuts: The Imaginary Date" directed by Dan Kilbane
Featuring Adam Hoffman, Elaine Feagler, David Thonnings & Alison Garrigan
Piano: Michael Seevers
(Dobama's Night Kitchen, 1998)

In my scene, “The Imaginary Date,” a young man (Simon) is pressed into service, pretending to hit on a friend of his (Missy) to make her ex-boyfriend jealous. By the end of the short scene the gambit has worked -- the ex stomps off in a huff -- but Simon is left wounded by the connection he allowed himself to believe has been made with Missy on their “imaginary” date.

The convention of the complete, one-hour play (set in a bar called The Porterhouse) gave this scene additional impact, as Simon returns to the bar, continues to drink through two other scenes, and sadly staggers out near the end of the final piece.

Emotional role play is also a major plot point in The Way I Danced With You, in which a young couple attempt to rekindle a flagging relationship. This piece, which received a weekend of performances at Blank Canvas last March will have a complete, three-weekend run this season at Ensemble Theatre.

A few weeks ago, my ten-minute piece Screen Play premiered at Pandemonium, Cleveland Public Theatre’s annual gala. Two years ago I tried it out at CPT’s monthly public workshop, The Dark Room with Brian Pedaci reading the male character. This summer he asked if I wouldn’t pitch it for the party. I was surprised he remembered it. I was surprised they chose it. It’s a little kitchen sinky, but between he and my wife, Toni K. Thayer as she, it was taut, compelling, and we got some lovely responses from party goers.

"The Way I Danced With You" at Ensemble Theatre
Sarah Blubaugh & Cody Kilpatrick Steele

Unlike those other two pieces, featuring youthful protagonists in the very midst of romantic decision-making, here we have two Gen Xers in their middle years, a quiet evening at home, on their screens. He googles a one-night stand from college, and his attempt at re-connection (an ill-thought impulse) is met with a less-than-positive response. The ensuing conversation with his spouse leads to several uneasy conclusions.

Dan Savage said, “every relationship you are in will fail, until one doesn't.” Is the success of an entire relationship defined by whether or not it ends? How many relationships hinge on a single word? Have you ever felt the regret that comes with doubting the choices you have made, and the possibility that one choice, one moment, one word -- stay -- may have created for you an entirely different life, a different world, a different you?

If you had it to do all over again, would you?

And would you regret that also?

Ensemble Theatre presents the World Premiere of "The Way I Danced With You," through April 7, 2019.


This post was updated on 3/22/2019

Assessment

Perhaps this is a bit premature, but I am on an upswing and have no idea how long it will last. In my most recent assessment, I reflected on stagnancy and a general feeling of malaise. Writing was not happening. In fact, it continued not to happen for some time, as I was locked in my head over the Christie piece, unable to freely enjoy anything until that was sorted.

Tiresias Riddles the Fate

However, since that time I have written two brief pieces for performance. Cleveland Public Theatre's annual Pandemonium benefit was held on Saturday, September 12. My fifteen-minute play Tiresias Riddles The Fates was performed twice in one of the outdoor yurts and though it rained all evening crowds made their way across the sodden parking lot to join us.

The theme for the evening was "transform" and so I was inspired to call upon one of the oldest known transgendered characters in literature. And the Fates? Because women. My daughter encouraged me to create something for the event and I thought if I roped her and one of her friends into it I might actually come up with something fun. Two actor-teachers rounded out the cast.

The CPH Centennial Plays

The other short play, On the Beam, was written as part of the centennial celebration to be thrown next weekend in honor of the Cleveland Play House 100th Season. The Playwrights' Unit was asked to write short plays that tell the history of CPH in 60 minutes. Writing a short piece about the first Cleveland production of The Crucible was stepping into warm and familiar territory, and I was very happy to offer my contribution.

Performances of The CPH Centennial Plays will be in the Helen Theatre at Playhouse Square next Saturday, October 24 at 12:15 PM and again at 4:15 PM. Admission is free, though they are asking that people make a reservation. It's going to be a big, day-long party with events happening all around the Play House complex.

Not sure which performance of the Centennial Plays I will make, but I do know I will be performing in White Rabbit Red Rabbit at Cleveland Public Theatre that same night, Oct. 24 at 7:00 PM in the Parish Hall on the CPT campus.

White Rabbit Red Rabbit

I can't tell you anything about WRRR because I do not know anything about WRRR. It is a play an actor can only perform once, because they are expected not to know anything about it.

I will show up that Saturday night, they will hand me the script, and I will walk out on stage (will I be walking onto a stage?) to perform a play I have not read for an audience. As the play opened last weekend, and folks have been encouraged to see it more than once, it is very possible the audience I will be performing for will now much more about the play than I do, which is nothing.

This evening we had an impromptu reading of a work I wrote last Spring and only recently came back to, what I affectionately refer to as The George Michael Play. It is not my custom to hold a play reading in a bar but I did want to thank the people at Parnell's on Playhouse Square for letting us use the upstairs room this evening.

The George Michael Play

It's a dicey piece of work, but I had two splendid readers, and Khaki, as well as a room of actor-teachers to witness. It has been some time since I made up something entirely original, so many recent works have been adaptations or parodies or sequels or prequels, to create something to entirely me, well it has been a while.

There is also a great deal of work to see or things to do these days, we will be attending the Talespinner Halequinade benefit tomorrow evening, King Lear at Great Lakes later this week, the Play House production of The Crucible the week after that.

I Hate This

Most unusual of all, however, is a production of I Hate This the first weekend of November at Hartwick College in Oneonta, New York. Brian Cook will be designing, directing and performing this very personal play of mine for his senior thesis. How he came to choose this monodrama, from all those available, is a question I must ask him some day soon. For the time being it is enough to say that his thoughts on the script, and his preliminary concepts for design were enough to satisfy and I have otherwise had no input into the project.

The idea that this particular piece, this most personal stories, could have a life separate from my body, from my own mouth, is in a word reassuring. That I was able to put down the words, that the words alone tell the story, and that they may safely be interpreted by another independent from any additional contributions from me.

I ran a marathon a few weeks ago, the Twin Cities Marathon. Yes, I have been writing, but so much time was spent occupied by that intense, physical pursuit. And I did well. Now, on the other side, I am overwhelmed by all this work; home work, work work, and the writing work. I haven't had a run in almost a week, and I do not like to think that I have to choose between writing and running. Perhaps this time I might be able to keep body and mind together.

Winsor McCay's Slumberland

This video was made of our second (out of three) performances last Saturday night, Sept. 8, 2012 at the Cleveland Public Theatre PANDEMONIUM benefit. The theme for the event was The House of Dreams.

The Parish Hall on the CPT campus was the fellowship hall for the adjacent Romanian Orthodox Church, which is very small, no doubt the congregation at one time required additional space for social events -- the Parish Hall is much larger than the church itself. But it’s not that large, either. At one end of the hall is a little stage, which CPT has made look absolutely lovely, with a new red curtain, neatly painted trim, a black back wall, the wood floor has been finished, and professional lighting. But as you can see -- it’s tiny! It’s so cute.

Nemo & Princess!

There were eight of us backstage, waiting in the limited wingspace. The hall itself was divided in half by a divider, which did not stop sound from travelling from the art exhibit on the other side of the hall, but I do love hearing all the sound coming in from everywhere on this video, it gives a sense of all the activity going on beyond the stage.

Marian made this video from one of the sixty-five available seats. I encouraged her to sit up close, you can just make out the “moon” light crafted by Ben Gantose -- which was a bonus, when we can in for tech. Love that moon!

Valerie plays the part of “Imp” which my daughter (who plays the Princess) describes as actually more like a monkey in McCay’s original. I will take some time before correcting her, McCay’s Imp is actually a grotesque African caricature.

Also, the original King Morpheus is a giant of a man, burly, bald, bushy-bearded, stripped to the waist with gold bands around his bulging, muscular arms. I asked Keith to dress like Neil Gaiman’s Morpheus, so there’s a little geeky joke there for you.

Prior to each performance, Valerie handed copies of the original strip to members of the audience. Before our third and final performance a man came in, greatly excited. He asked Valerie if this was really based on Little Nemo -- the cartoon handout confirmed this -- and waited after to talk to me about it. He was delighted to find that it was a legitimate adaptation, and not some kind of gag.

I found the music on YouTube, a fan of old timey music boxes has a series of videos playing their Edison wax cylinders and 78s. These recordings are from 18 ½ inch metal disc music boxes, including In the Good Old Summertime, Amoureuse Waltz and Come Take a Trip in My Airship.

Read the complete, five-minute version of Winsor McCay's Slumberland and the one-hour, full-length Adventures In Slumberland at New Play Exchange.

Pandemonium 12

Tonight is the night. Many of my artsy friends are participating in Cleveland Public Theatre's Annual PANDEMONIUM benefit, including several actor-teachers. My production will happen in the Parish Hall at 7:45, 8:20 and 8:55. Here are a few sample panels from Winsor McCay's original strip that we incorporated into our brief tale.

WINSOR McCAY'S SLUMBERLAND

During the first several months of publication (1905) Little Nemo In Slumberland was almost entirely about the continuing, fruitless attempts to get Nemo to Slumberland to be the playmate for the Princess.

The character of Flip acted as a kind of nemesis, intentionally waking Nemo up before he could reach his destination. In short time, however, he became a kindred spirit for Nemo, and a companion.

This evening's performance embodies the fears and anxieties present in those first few months of publication, and Flip remains an adversary. He is played by Al.

Scenes From a Night's Dream

We populate your dreams.

Final rehearsal before Pandemonium. It's going to be a sweet, surreal, candy box of a dream. A Winsor McCay comic told on a dinky stage stage full of fears and fancy ... just a little over five minutes long.

Nemo! Get out of bed!
Don't tell me stories, I don't want to know!
Come on you sleepy head, we're waiting to go!

Okay, so this song, "Scenes from a Night's Dream" was my first introduction to Little Nemo. It's a little embarrassing. Bad enough to admit being such a huge fan of Phil Collins when I was in high school, without digging up what may be the worst song Genesis ever recorded.

House of Dreams

Little Nemo & the Princess.

Cleveland theater community (or at least the cool kids) are all bug-a-boo about this year's PANDEMONIUM! Actors, directors, playwrights, dancers, designers, devised-work-mediators all conspire for a feverish couple of weeks to bring together new works, works-in-progress, or the same crap they always to to entertain the masses and attain a golden ticket to the funkiest high-stakes fundraiser in Cleveland.

I am happy they keep asking me back to do stuff. This is my fourth contribution, dating back to the first Pandemonium in 2003. Last year I wrote a brief history of the event and my place in it, and the opportunity to stage one scene from the Cleveland history play (title TBA) which will debut at Big Box this March.

I was not planning on participating this year, things being so off-the-hook busy at work and at home, but what can I say? A personal invitation from Beth Wood is difficult to refuse. This year the theme is House of Dreams, which I found serendipitous as I have been preoccupied with Little Nemo in Slumberland. 

I wrote a brief piece, asked a few performers from Henry VIII to join me. My daughter asked if she could be the Princess, and roped a friend of hers from school to play Nemo. Then I connived his parents into playing the role of chaperone ... and then actual roles for the performance.

We had our forty-five minute tech rehearsal this evening (thank you, Rachael!) and will present this eight-minute-version of what I am calling Winsor McCay's Slumberland at 7:45, 8:20 and 8:55 in the Parish Hall.

Pandemonium is Saturday, September 8.

The Intimate Bar

Emily Pucell as Dare Wright
Photo courtesy of Cassie Neumann

Do Do That Voodoo
Sept. 10, 2011
Pandemonium 11

Toni K. Thayer ... The Living Newspaper
David Hansen ... William F. McDermott
Emily Pucell ... Dare Wright
Joshua D. Brown ... Orson Welles
Geoffrey Hoffman ... Bernard Schrader
Eric Perusek ... your bartender


McDermott chats up Dare at the Intimate Bar in the Alcazar Hotel.
We had two great performances Saturday night, the "Lose Me Lodge" space had, perhaps 30 chairs in it which were filled at 8 PM and we were SRO at 8:55.

At the end of the brief performance, Toni was to hand out copies of McDermott's actual PD review of the "Voodoo" Macbeth, but she did one better and actually calling out the banner. Every audience member took one! And they had Josh's poster for It Can't Happen Here on the reverse.


Orson Welles shares a laugh with his driver ... or is Bernard yawning?
It was a sheer delight working with this team, even for only a few days. Having Josh back in town was a thrill, and he took the opportunity to play Orson Welles with great joy. Mr. Welles was in rare form that night ... it was hard for me to play half in the bag and focus on the other actors' faces, but I looked up at Josh one time when I was going off on some rant and he had this maniacal grin on his face, it was tremendous.


Welles quizzes the theater critic as he phones in his review.
This was my first time working with Geoff, and I hope to again.

I was ostensibly the "director" of this piece, I wrote it, it was short, our time was short, so I just told everyone what I wanted.

But he graciously offered several spot-on suggestions, which in the whirlwind of our time together I was extremely grateful to receive.

He really gave me an excellent note for the delivery of my last line which really put a nail onto the last moment. Well, the penultimate moment. The last moment was his, and that was super, too -- especially to our older crowd, who really got it.

This event also gave me the chance to do some revisions.


YES!!!
Photos courtesy of Margi Herwald Zitelli
After our second performance, it was time for dessert, to check out a few of the other shows ... and to finally get that Magic Hat.

Did I mention CPT received a one million dollar grant from The Kresge Foundation’s Building Reserve Grant program? So it was a good night for everyone.

Pandemonium 11

Photos from the performance of Do Do That Voodoo.
12:10 AM Home again. Cannot tell you (yet) how satisfying that event was. Pictures will come, and stories. There was no time to get back to blogging to report as it was happening, that should be a sign of how successful it was, for everyone.

Thank you, so much, to Emily, Josh, Geoff, Eric, Toni, our stage manager Rose and our two capacity audiences and all of our friends at the event, and CONGRATULATIONS TO CLEVELAND PUBLIC THEATRE and anyway I need to go to bed.

I feel good.

6:49 PM Places.

Backstage make-up action.
6:10 PM Okay, one secret revealed ... I may dance.

35 minutes to places, we have concluded working the opening presentation. I need to eat something or I will never get the chance. And then then I must dress. The Levin is now loud and excited with performers.

The Gordon Square. Soon it will throng.
5:27 PM SHIT! Official schedule says our first performance is at 8:00 o'clock sharp, not at 8:05. Not what I meant by "expect the unexpected."

But the skies are clear, the actors are bustling, the Muses just went downstairs (that sounds ominous -- they're just actors, dressed like Muses) and there is an awful lot of food around here.

5:14 PM In the holding pen in the Levin, sitting with our stage manager Rose. Waiting for my wife to arrive. The question is whether or not I choose to get dressed up and join the "Big Surprise" rehearsal. I almost said what it is. That would give away the surprise.

Christine Howey is sitting two tables to my right, wearing one of those pitch helmets that have a fan built into it.

4:24 PM Tweet much? #pan11 to find out what others are saying about the big gig tonight.

... that picture down there really makes me unhappy.

2:32 PM The less-than-sexy part of the day, while I am sorting props in the rehearsal hall. Right now I am fantasizing about all of the free Magic Hat I will be drinking tonight between the 8:05 and 8:55 presentations of that scene I wrote.

Tim teaches Eric the "Romeo/Paris" fight.

Kelly teaches lady actor-teachers how Juliet stabs herself.
11:56 AM Great Lakes actor-teachers traditionally spend the first Saturday of rehearsal period learning stage combat from Kelly Elliott, who (with her husband Josh, seen below) created the fights we use for the Romeo and Juliet, Macbeth and Hamlet residencies. She also leads the actors in hand-to-hand instruction to use in drama workshops, and for new residencies like Midsummer and Othello.

Last year we went al fresco, out in Star Plaza, to pick up the movies. Today, like most days this week, it's raining, and we are in the Salon at the Hanna Theatre.

Almost every actor-teacher is performing at PANDEMONIUM tonight, in four or five different shows. I told you, every performer in Cleveland wants to be part of this party ... especially the young ones.

"Tut, tut ... looks like PANDEMONIUM."
11:09 AM And we're out. Time to head back to actor-teacher rehearsals. Tight little act we've got ... no idea how long it is, somewhere around five minutes. Don't be late! Geoff expressed aloud if we might perhaps offend some people. I always assumed when a drunken asshole of a character starts making racist comments you aren't necessarily supposed to assume the playwright holds the same opinions. Unless it's Mamet.

Dan, Geoff, Emily, Josh, David, backstage at the "Lose Me Lounge."
10:37 AM Rehearsing DO DO THAT VOODOO in the Storefront. Power was out in Gypsy Bean ... and the Storefront when we arrived, apparently the lights went out on Wednesday. Looking forward to performing by candlelight tonight! Happy to have Josh back in town with us, first time running the scene with all of our actors ... except the bartender. Crap.

David as McDermott

Pandemonium, Saturday Sept. 10.
Expect the unexpected.

Do Do That Voodoo

For those of you jonesing for a piece of this new play Centennial! ... the first public performance of one short scene from my unofficial history of Cleveland theater will be presented as part of Cleveland Public Theatre's annual benefit extravaganza -- PANDEMONIUM!
In 2003, then-Artistic Director Randy Rollison had the brilliant idea to kick out all the stops and create a mammoth benefit which would not only entertain and intoxicate (in all sense of the word) as many monied patrons as possible, but also to show off as many square inches of CPT's burgeoning campus as possible. At the same time, he solved the seemingly unending bane of the theaterworld -- mooching artists. Why yes you can have a free ticket! But you have to perform.

And we do. And we love it. Because no one wants to miss this party.

That first year Randy asked me to shepherd some actors together to present Neo-Futurist plays in the scene shop. And so for one night Magdalyn, Josh, Kelly and I were the New Guerrillas presenting Too Much Light Makes The Baby Go Blind (by permission) an attempt to perform ten plays in ten minutes. A dozen audience members were seated in the freight elevator at the Levin lobby, were handed a menu of plays, dropped down to ground level, the doors swung open and the four of us started shouting at them for which play they wanted to see. After ten minutes a buzzer went off, the doors closed and the audience went away. It was such a hit we were asked to reprise it several additional times during the evening. Yes, I kissed Christine Howey on the mouth. Yes, I paid her two dollars.

What we were unaware of, sequestered in the bowels of the theater, was how expansive the rest of the party was. We simply hadn't seen it. After we were released, we went above and found a huge dance party going on in the Gordon Square and out into the then-unpaved parking lot. It was huge! Since then, we the acquisition of the Church and Fellowship Hall spaces, it has gotten even bigger.

In 2005 we were about to open the revival of The Vampyres and I provided a cutting from that play ... which was presented out of doors on a platform stage. It was just one of those cases of bad planning on my part, I was unable to participate in any of the technical preparations and just distanced myself from the entire event. It wasn't the year for it for me, with a two year-old and a new baby at home. When Beth asked if I was interested in providing something this year, I made sure the scene fit the venue.

Two years ago, my wife wrote a piece especially for the event, a tribute to the goddess Kali in the form of a Mary Kay party, a scene I was delighted to have participated in. Last year the theme for the night was Wild Thing and though I was unable to attend, I was very happy to send the actor-teachers from Great Lakes to teach happy, adult partygoers how we coach first graders to perform Sendak's Where The Wild Things Are. Apparently, it was quite a hit.
This year, my scene Do Do That Voodoo takes place in the Intimate Bar at the Alcazar Hotel following a performance of the Federal Theatre's Negro Unit touring production of Macbeth, directed by Orson Welles.

The scene will feature Toni K. Thayer as the Voice of the Living Newspaper, Emily Pucell as Dare Wright, Geoff Hoffman as Bernard Schrader, Joshua D. Brown as Orson Welles, Eric Perusek as the bartender ... and your truly as William F. McDermott.

Saturday, September 10. Pandemonium. Be there.


Evan Palazzo
"You Do Something To Me"