BLOG-O-LICIOUS

BLOG ARCHIVE:  2007/2008 SEASON

Kelly Ashkettle, Writer, In Utah This Week:  BANNED IN UTAH: MY 15 FAVORITE THINGS ABOUT TONIGHT'S PRODUCTION OF PLAN-B THEATRE'S 'AND THE BANNED PLAYED ON'

 

15. SLUG editor Angela Brown’s turquoise tunic and its Asian-inspired swirl of multicolored goodness.

 

14. Tom Hewitson’s guitar playing on “Pinball Wizard.”

 

13. Jen Tarasevich’s Daisy Duke outfit.

 

12. Dave Evanoff’s jaunty head bobbing as he played the drums.

 

11. The stuffed mushrooms provided by Cali’s Natural Foods.

 

10. The sincerity in Mark Fossen and Tobin Atkinson’s portrayal of a gay couple coming to terms with the AIDS epidemic in a scene from THE NORMAL HEART.

 

9. The Theater Arts Conservatory’s ten-minute version of ROMEO & JULIET as staged by teenagers, proving that local theater has a bright future.

 

8. Danny Tarasevich’s smooth-as-silk vocals and expressive hand gestures on a rendition of “American Dream” from MISS SAIGON.

 

7. Colleen Baum’s hilarious inflections as SISTER MARY IGNATIUS.

 

6. Ginger Bess’s stunning operatic vocal work on “Three Little Maids from School” [from THE MIKADO], which was surpassed only by her full throatiness as she channeled Miss Mona for the number “A Lil’ Ole Bitty Pissant Country Place” from THE BEST LITTLE WHOREHOUSE IN TEXAS — proving yet again that she may well have the most powerful voice in town.
 

5. The part where X96’s Bill Allred came out wearing a Jane’s Addiction’s “Nothing’s Shocking” T-shirt. First he asked where Sandy Nailen was sitting in the crowd, and a woman behind me raised her hand. Then Allred explained that she is the mother of Dan Nailen, the Arts and Entertainment editor of Salt Lake Magazine (and a former IN columnist). Allred said that when Dan Nailen saw him wearing the shirt, he exclaimed that he used to have that shirt, too, but his mother never let him wear it. Allred then added, “So censorship can take many forms,” at which I saw Mrs. Nailen chuckling good-naturedly.

 

4. The fact that former mayor Rocky Anderson recorded his introduction on video, even though he was in New York tonight to give a presentation at an international human rights conference.

 

3. When former mayor Ted Wilson said, “With all this star power up here, I feel like Paris Hilton’s 25th boyfriend — I know what to do but not how to make it exciting.”

 

2. Seeing the four mayors who were present — Ted Wilson, Palmer DePaulis, Deedee Corradini and Ralph Becker — come out for the curtain call with arms linked.

 

1. Plan-B director Jerry Rapier’s composure while handling an outraged audience member. A man in the audience started yelling at Rapier when he referred to himself as a Jap while explaining that Plan-B’s next season will include a play that tells the story Rapier has waited his whole career to present: the drama of Utah’s World War II Japanese internment camp. The heckler screamed that his grandfather was in one of those camps and that Rapier shouldn’t call them Japs — to which Rapier calmly replied that he is a Jap and that’s exactly why they’re doing the play. It perfectly underscored the point of the evening, which is that what may offend one person is another person’s most fundamental self-expression.

 

AND THE BANNED PLAYED ON is a one-night only event, so if you missed it, you’re out of luck. Next year, Plan-B will combine it with another annual event, SLAM, to create AND THE BANNED SLAMMED ON, Utah’s only “fundraiser-featuring- five-10-minute-plays-created-in-24-hours-celebrating-the-First-Amendment.”

 

I can’t wait. We’ve written a lot lately about the importance of buying locally, and that goes for art, too. When it comes to world-class theater, you can’t get any more local than Plan-B and its emphasis on Utah stories.

 

Kelly Ashkettle
(Lovingly Borrowed From In Utah This Week's Blog)

 

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Friday, July 18, 2008

Dan Nailen, A&E Editor, Salt Lake Magazine: AND THE BANNED PLAYED ON

This is a call for all you lovers of the First Amendment. All you people who love to shoot your mouth off at a bar, march in protest of this or that or cruise with a bumper sticker that lets the world know you love/hate (insert your political party/candidate/position of choice).

I know you're out there; I can hear you breathing.

This Monday is the sixth annual AND THE BANNED PLAYED ON fundraiser hosted by Plan-B Theatre, a yearly romp through readings, scenes and songs from great art works that have been banned at some point in time. And there's never a better time to celebrate every journalist/writer's favorite constitutional amendment than an election year, right?

Lucky for you non-hacks, the show is plenty entertaining, in addition to being important. This year's version is hosted by X-96's Bill Allred and KUER's Doug Fabrizio, and includes appearances by the last five Salt Lake City mayors, and introductions by a bunch of media folks like Angela Brown from SLUG, Greta deJong from the Catalyst, Holly Mullen from City Weekly and yours truly.

I'll be introducing a scene from Larry Kramer's THE NORMAL HEART, a play which found its story set in the early days of the AIDS crisis too controversial for some communities. Scenes from the likes of ROMEO & JULIET and THE IMPORTANCE OF BEING EARNEST, and songs from THE WHO'S TOMMY and THE MIKADO are also part of the show. 

Kramer's play ran into problems in Springfield, Missouri, where local citizens were none too pleased when Southwest Missouri State University (now just Missouri State) wanted to produce it on campus. In fact, some of those local citizens were downright terrifying. Not content to write letters or lobby the legislature to "punish" the university for its choice, some of them burned a pro-play student's home to the ground while he attended the premiere. The school had to install metal detectors and hire bomb-sniffing dogs for the rest of the play's run.

AND THE BANNED PLAYED ON offers you not just a chance to help one of Salt Lake's most-valued theater groups; it allows you to pay homage to the daring artists, like Larry Kramer, who have pushed the boundaries for centuries. In a way it's sad that the First Amendment is still something we have to fight for, but such is the price of freedom.

Please join us Monday. There will be a cash bar, and food from Cali's Natural Foods, a new joint from the good people at Sage's Cafe and The Vertical Diner. The show starts at 7 p.m.; tickets are $35 and available at ArtTix outlets, or by calling 801-355-ARTS. It is at the Jeanne Wagner @ The Rose, 138 West 300 South in Salt Lake City.

Dan Nailen
(Lovingly borrowed from Dan's Lounge Act Blog at Salt Lake Magazine)

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Wednesday, July 16. 2008
Holly Mullen, Editor, City Weekly:  BANNED is Beautiful

[Free Speech] For a good time, come here next Monday night.

Plan-B Theatre Company's annual benefit show, AND THE BANNED PLAYED ON is always a memorable event, and a donation to a great cause: Local theater with a cutting cultural and political edge in a city that can always use it.

City Weekly's Scott Renshaw previews the 2008 version of BANNED here. The evening features performances of scenes, songs and readings from professional actors/musicians that for whatever reason, have been banned from audiences at various times. It's a big, fat celebration of the First Amendment, and who can't love that? (It's the first amendment for a reason, eh?) Besides, there's a reception with a cash bar. Giddyup!

Jerry Rapier, producing director of Plan-B, says he didn't know what to expect with the first BANNED in 2002 [sic]. "Six years later," Rapier says, "I get regular emails from people sending me links to articles about bannings and censorship. I think it speaks to the intimate relationships people have with the books they read, the music they listen to and the plays they see. Somehow, such relationships can trump politics and religion. It's exciting to see that. And it's a helluva good time."

Also, a whole bevy of media types (including yours truly) and former Salt Lake City mayors and the current Salt Lake City mayor will be on hand to introduce the banned works. I actually get to introduce a scene by the late, great sex symbol Mae West.

Holly Mullen

(Lovingly borrowed from City Weekly's Salt Blog)

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Friday, July 4, 2008
Greta Belanger deJong, Editor, Catalyst Magazine:  Editor's Notebook
From the July Issue of Catalyst Magazine

My first encounter with censorship, of any sort, was in junior high when my dad picked up a library book I was reading. “Girl On a Baggage Cart” is the title that comes to mind, and to this day I associate it with Frank Sinatra singing the then-popular “Strangers in the Night,” which means it probably involved a one-night stand. Somewhere in there, someone says “Screw you.” This is the line my dad read. He took this to my mother. They discussed it. Daddy drove me to the library and I had to return the book. It’s okay; it wasn’t that great.

Funny thing was, I had no idea what “screw you” meant. I don’t recall getting an adequate explanation from my parents, but I was the kind of kid who didn’t want to embarrass anyone; nor did I wish to threaten the status of my special-issue library card (I was underage but nonetheless had a card to the full library). I have no problem with parents taking an interest in what their teen is reading, and making decrees as to age appropriateness. I share this because it illustrates that censorship has a lot more to do with the censor than the person being “protected.”

AND THE BANNED PLAYED ON is a grand and (usually) hilarious annual fund-raiser for Salt Lake City’s Plan-B Theatre, and a paean to the first amendment. I’ve had the privilege of participating in two of the past five performances. Last year the focus was banned children’s and young adult books. I got to read from “The Earth, My Butt and Other Big Round Things,” by Carolyn Mackler. Another year it was all banned music—which goes to show there’s always somebody who wants to control somebody else, with top 40 hits such as Neil Diamond’s “America” and the infamous “Short People” by Randy Newman right up there with Prince’s “Darling Nikki.”

Sometimes songs and literature in these performances push my buttons and I think, “Yep, I’d ban that one, too.” It’s interesting to contemplate, and a good topic for discussion afterward in the lobby with your friends.

This year’s Monday, July 21 performance includes five former [sic] SLC mayors, representatives from various SLC media, and professional actors and musicians, hosted by Doug Fabrizio and Bill Allred. The topic is theatre. Reserved seats are $35, and it always sells out. This year’s eats are by Cali’s Natural Foods, and there’s a cash bar. Come see for yourself: What, if anything, pushes your buttons?

It’s good to test ourselves, decide what that voice inside is saying. It’s good to stretch. It’s okay to squirm, to be indignant, then examine why.

And that, too, is usually good for a good laugh. Come if you can.

Greta Belanger deJong
(Lovingly Borrowed from Catalyst Magazine)

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Sunday, June 8, 2008
Jerry Rapier:  THE TRICKY PART
 
I didn't realize how much I said 'the tricky part' until we started working on Martin Moran's play. I guess that's the beauty of the title - it's a common phrase, instantly familiar.

This is the first Plan-B production in three years that the playwright hasn't been directly involved in. However, playwright Martin Moran has been very present. Not only are we sharing his very personal story, he has been incredible open and accessible to myself and actor David Spencer. Whether it be email, phone calls or press interviews, it's simply been a joy to brush shoulders with Marty.

From my first reading of the script four years ago, I've wanted to produce THE TRICKY PART. But it scared the hell out of me. Every few months I would read the script and revisit my terror. It wasn't scary because of it's simplicity, it's focus on storytelling, the fact that it's a one-man show. It was scary because it's about male sexual abuse. It was scary because it's about moving past male sexual abuse. It was scary because male sexual abuse is an issue that makes even the most open-minded theatregoer a bit nervous.

At the end of the second week of the three-week run, I am amazed at the depth at which THE TRICKY PART reaches people. I've realized that, at it's core, the play is not about male sexual abuse at all. It's about what comes next. It's about self awareness. It's about giving oneself permission to forgive oneself.

A lovely, delicate, intricate, simple, complex and joyous experience awaits you this final week of the run - join us at Plan-B.

Jerry Rapier

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Sunday, June 1, 2008
Jennifer Freed: Simplicity is THE TRICKY PART

Wow! What a year we have had with Plan-B.  THE TRICKY PART is the finale of an extremely busy and successful year.  It was only a short time ago that our company had the honor and pleasure of opening our first show off-Broadway. That show, of course, was FACING EAST. In some ways the two shows remind me of each other.  I don't mean in the stories by any means, but in their simplicity. Both were simple sets, a platform covered with a ground cloth. Each of them used very few props. So it was just basically the performers and the story.  That's it. Simple.

Simplicity is often forgotten in our day and age with all the gadgets you can acquire: iPods and iPhones, portable DVD players, car phones, not to mention the newest and hottest in cameras, bicycles, SUVs, blue tooth, HD technology—the list goes on and on. It is no wonder the entertainment industry is clamoring to keep up with the latest trends.  This is no different for live theatre.  Blockbuster shows that haunt the Broadway stages dazzle us with glittering costumes, set pieces flying in and out to take us to new locations every five minutes, remote control boats floating across a stage, actors swinging on vines from the stage out into the audience, dazzling lights and sound effects, and all of the smoke and mirrors of a good magic trick.  We, as audience members, walk away dazed and excited.  Junkies that get our fill of magic and things we never thought possible for a live theatrical performance.

I know.  Why? Because I am one of the worst culprits. As a technical theatre person I love watching how a show comes together.  What gadgets they use.  Trying to figure out how something is done before my eyes.  I can name a show that has a costumer change happen, on stage, in front of the audience, in less than 10 seconds, from a ballerina costume to a period dress. The actor's dresser even comes on the stage to perform the change.  All while scenery is moving and songs are being sung.  I have seen this show many times and I still can't figure out when the change happens or how.  I LOVE THAT!  I love being mystified.

But, having said that, I look at what really draws me to the theatre.  What is it that I love most?  The story.  Being riveted to every word that comes out of an actor's mouth. Loving how a playwright chose just the right phrasing, the right emotion to make me laugh or cry. Get angry or sad. Be called to action or wanting to learn more about a time and a place.  Or best of all - just being taken away.  Lost in my imagination of what is being said.  Being swept away to a Greek island, understanding a life story, knowing how the woods smell and the sky lights with stars without having to see it because I am there, with the actor with the story, with the words.  Nothing else is needed.  It is going back to childhood and sitting in the library listening during story hour. Drool sliding down our chin because we forget to swallow, forget to breathe, forget to blink, because we are so engrossed in the story.  That is what theatre is.  Those times when less is so much more.

I am struck by these thoughts every night as I watch THE TRICKY PART.  So simple. One platform, a table, a chair, a few light cues and a wonderful actor, drawing us in, telling a story.  It just doesn't get any better.

Jennifer Freed

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Sunday, May 25, 2008
Actor David Spencer on THE TRICKY PART
 
We've just finished three weeks of rehearsal. Wow! In our fourth week coming up, we have a few rehearsals left and they're what I'm calling our version of previews (okay, so there're only two or three people in the house for most of them but, believe it or not, it's very helpful). All of this leads to an official opening this coming Friday night. I started work on this script months ago – sometime in 2007; late Summer/Fall, no? – so I feel like I've been living with it in some form or another, forever. I feel like I've researched the crap out of it and looked up everything from Buckminster Fuller to sad Saint Lucy with her eyeballs on a plate – go on, ask me about the Virgin Agatha and her breasts on a platter!  I know it all!

Actually, it's been very interesting research, especially for a lapsed good-little-Mormon boy who grew up being told that the Catholic Church was the Great and Abominable Church (never mind; another story for another time). The entire body of the research has been fascinating, actually; from all things Catholic to as much as I can grasp of the sociological and psychological issues around sexual abuse. The issue of being out there onstage by myself – the one-man-show issue – is really a non-issue. Frankly, I love it. Doing I AM MY OWN WIFE taught me at least that much: that I can love being out there one-on-one with an audience and that there is great freedom and excitement in being out there by yourself! How do you like that? A narcissist's dream! (Now if I were only a narcissist – no, really, I'm not one. Really.). So, when the possibility of doing the play came up, the solo aspect was actually an enticing aspect of it rather than an intimidating aspect.

Then, there is this text. Clocking in at 28-ish single-spaced pages and running for about 85 to 90 minutes, it's been something of a chore (albeit not unpleasant, bear in mind) to make my brain absorb it all. Thanks be to God and Jean Williams (my neighbor from down the street who was willing to sit through the play countless times helping me memorize it) I think the text is finally settling into my body and becoming close to second nature. That's what I'm shooting for anyway; trying to have all the words sitting there at my disposal, waiting to be called upon as needed to tell the story.

And then there is that cute little Marty Moran and this incredible story. Marty has been incredibly generous toward Jerry and myself as we've prepared for and worked on this production. And Lord, the questions I've asked him:

"What's up with all these characters that have names starting with the letter K?" – Yeah, it's true, I actually asked him that and he wrote a serious, gracious response.

"Why 'midst' instead of "middle'?"

"What do you mean you kept a file 'under' your desk – who keeps a file under their desk? Don't you mean to say 'in' it or 'on' it?" Turns out he did mean 'under' and there was a very real reason for that.

"Why do you say 'before we lined up to go to the restroom'? Who lines up to go to the restroom? Don't you mean recess?" Well, no. He meant restroom and when they were little kids in school the nuns did indeed make them line up to go to the restroom together.

"How do you pronounce 'Lachada'?" (As in "Mrs. Lachada, kneeling in her front yard, digging...")

"Could you tell me the actual address of your old house in Denver? I want to look it up on Google Maps - Street view - to see what you house looks like." He gave me the address – and I looked it up. Yep, it was there.  That, and Christ the King Church & School and Cherry Creek and Virginia Vale and Exposition and Clear Creek Canyon and on and on.

We did ask more meaningful questions as well – lest you think we are people that dwell only on minutiae – and he helped us there too.

I mean, who gets to ask the author of a play questions like these and have the author answer graciously and thoroughly? Well, Jerry and I did – and Marty Moran certainly opened himself to us.

Further lesson to me: Trust the text. Be an instrument for the text. Works every time!  So, I'm actually enjoying this experience very much. I have come to love this play; this wonderful person Martin Moran (both the 12-year-old and the adult); and the whole experience of telling his story.  I do have to say, though that I'm looking forward to having a complete conversation; that is, having people in the seats to engage in the conversation that is this play. I'm tired of talking to empty seats (well, Jerry does what he can but he's only one person nd he's directing the play and seen it repeatedly now so at this point how much response can a reasonable person expect from him?).

So, I'm going to close by quoting Marty; in a lovely little note he sent to Jerry (and by default, me) – because this is truly what I'm working at carrying with me through the process, especially during the conversation itself:

"Sooo glad to hear it goes well.
Wow...it makes me feel so honored and so curious.
I've only seen the play one time and that was in South Africa.
You make me want to come to Utah.
Hope you have joyous rehearsals...
I know that joy might strike some as weird in relation to this play
but I have found over time
that the grace coming through, the light touch, the humor...
makes for a – complex, I know – but also joyous event.
Release...compassion...!
I'll be quiet now.
Have good days,
Marty"

And thank you, Marty.

David Spencer

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Sunday, May 11, 2008
Kirt Bateman, Who has Acted or Directed for Every SLAM, Wants Everyone to JUST ADMIT IT!

Can we all just face one simple fact here: WE ARE ALL VOYEURS. This fact is what makes SLAM such a thrill ride. Everyone is looking ahead on the freeway to see if the flashing lights are just a simple traffic stop...or if there is a major accident up there. And if a major accident, I would like ONE of you to deny that you didn't press on your brakes for just a second to get a look at the mayhem.

That, my friends, is SLAM. I think that secretly every actor, director, designer, and audience member is waiting, waiting, waiting for the wreck. We are witnessing the possibility for disaster...and our voyeuristic selves are salivating. But—just like in life—each of those actors, directors, designers, and audience members are hoping and desperately praying that THEY are not the cause (or even part of) wreck. We've come close in the last four years of SLAM to a wreck or two. Not just a little fender-bender...but a full-on, 12-car pileup. But as of yet—and I attribute this to the quality of the professionals that Plan-B hires—no severe damage has been done. YET!

Even as I write this, my stomach turns and I've knocked on my wooden table three times in order to appease 'the fates.' "Please, dear God, do NOT let it be me that fucks this whole night up!" Even though it's kind of what the audience is waiting to see. The first year of SLAM, I was a director. It was hell. A beautiful script by Eric Samuelsen called THE BUTCHER, THE BEGGAR AND THE BEDTIME BUDDY (later developed into the full-length MIASMA). But THERE WAS NO TIME!  Eric had written these long monologues for one of my actors (the sweet and talented Kay Shean), plus written these crazy non-sequiturs for actor Tony Larimer (who, even in his brilliance, was struggling to memorize them in about six hours). My good friend, Stephanie Howell, was memorized by about 2pm. Nonetheless, we struggled for the last half of the day with line after line and not much in the way of direction was able to be given. Then, 8pm came and voila, a pretty damn good piece of theatre emerged. Amazing. Brilliant. These amazing actors really pulled it off! How could that be? I swore I would not direct again for SLAM. Too much stress.

SLAM 2, I acted. Again, I was very lucky. Great play (by Matthew Bennett called MUST HAVE BEEN COLD (later developed into the full-length COLD), great actors (the brilliant Jay Perry and fun Melanie Nelson), and I was given a part that I understood and was able to memorize by about 1pm (plus a great comedic bit of Elvis impersonation that allowed me to do some pelvic thrusts while (imagined) naked). It worked. I don't know how. But it worked. After that summer, I swore I would not act again fror SLAM. Too much stress.

SLAM 3, I directed. Again, lucky. A play by Kevin Doyle (and all actor, director, and playwriting choices are randomly chosen each year). I thought, "well, we've got plenty of time and I've got great actors (Lori Rees, Stephanie Howell (again) and Sarah Rife), let's have some real fun." So, I started seriously choreographing direction to compliment Kevin Doyle's writing. Well, about noon, I realized that everything I was asking of the actors was WRONG! I was ruining the play by trying to do too much. My directing ideas were scrapped and we tried to mount the play from the beginning (minus about two hours of rehearsal). Again, somehow, no train wreck (even though the projected image behind my play was a gigantic train). They pulled it off. NO THANKS TO ME. I vowed I would never direct again for SLAM. Too much stress.

SLAM 4, I acted. AGAIN, I WAS VERY LUCKY (by now, I've been constantly knocking on this wooden table in hopes that I remain lucky this year too). Another play by Matthew Ivan Bennett (a brilliant playwright), one of my best friends acting with me (Lori Rees—the brilliant), an actor that I hadn't worked with before but I would come to love deeply during the Plan-B production later that year called EXPOSED (Mark Fossen), and my hero in the director's chair (Tony Larimer). Well, the pressure was overwhelming. Matt asked my character to say these indecipherable and incredibly weird words (P.S. MATT: NO ONE TALKS LIKE THAT—EVEN COLLEGE PROFESSORS). Plus, I had to get turned on by Lori Rees' sexy lap-dances (and while she is a sex kitten on wheels, anyone who knows me knows that I am as gay as Richard Simmons in a tutu singing show tunes). Again, somehow, it worked. I don't know how. But it did. Last summer, I vowed I would never do SLAM again. Too much stress.

Well, here I am. Like Stephanie Howell said in her blog, "I am an addict." I have to do it. I am acting for SLAM 5. I pray for a good script. I pray for good actors. I pray for a good director. I pray for good placement in the evening (again, *knocking on wood*). But it's all up to the theatre gods...and a little bit of luck...and a lot of randomness. I'm sure by the end of the day on May 17th, I will say, "I'll never do SLAM again!"). And, I'm sure that in 2009—if invited—I'll be right there ready to sign up for a spot in the mad, mad world of 24-hour craziness—waiting for the hundreds of voyeurs sitting all around to see if I am going to be the one to cause the major catastrophe.

Maybe it will be me. Maybe not. But the excitement of it is just too much to pass up.

Kirt Bateman

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Sunday, May 4, 2008
Eric Samuelsen, the Only Playwright to Have Written for All SLAMs, Says "What the >%$?"

Everything about playwriting is horrible. You've written something, and you care about it only slightly less than you care about your own children, but what you've written is in the hands of other people, and you're quite helpless. Actors and directors and designers may or may not catch your vision or be able to. Their intentions are inevitably good–they like what you've written, or pretend that they do, and they say the most flattering things, but still, most of the time, you're quietly miserable for weeks.

You attend rehearsals, and you enjoy the illusion that you're somehow part of the production process, but in fact, theatrical production has no defined role for the playwright except that of kabitzer, whiner, complainer. And then the lights come up, and an audience sees it for the first time. And you writhe in your seat, and die quietly every time the actors flub a line, or the audience doesn't get a joke. Every opening night, you sit in the house and vow to never write anything again. And then you go home, and start the next play, pretty much immediately.

The only thing worse than attending rehearsals is not attending them, and in SLAM, the playwright doesn't get to. Not that I'd be much use–I've been up all night writing and I'm knackered. Besides, I want to put it off, that moment of hearing my words in the mouths of actors and realizing the play I wrote might be terrible. But when you drop the play off on Saturday morning, you don't have any idea. You haven't workshopped it, you haven't had time to rewrite much, you just grabbed at the first idea to pop into your head, and wrote that as quickly as possible. And based on what? Some actors you don't know all that well, and that title! SPOILED CHEESE. THE BUTCHER, THE BEGGAR AND THE BEDTIME BUDDY and BLOOD PUDDING. What is it with Plan-B and food titles?

I've done SLAM for four years - this will be my fifth - and I think three of my plays were okay. One really was terrible, and everyone knew it. I knew it too - my wife told me that morning. The plays are due at nine on the Saturday morning of SLAM - I live in Provo, and have to leave by eight to get there in time. My wife gets up early and reads the plays and offers suggestions; it's the only feedback I get, and I really appreciate it, except that once, when the play was lousy and I didn't have time to fix it. After the performance, I went home, and couldn't sleep and got up at two in the morning with a much better idea, much too late.

But I have learned some things. Avoid long monologues, avoid non sequiturs, avoid rapid-fire clever line exchanges. They're all too hard to memorize. Try to create characters with a hook–something the actors can immediately work with. Write about something you care about–politics works for me–because you've already been thinking about it and ideas can develop quickly. Jump right in–in media res. Make every line count, and if a good memorable line occurs to you, use it to death. For my first SLAM, I wrote a tough old Nebraska cattleman, and I gave him this line: "fill your lungs." With the smell of cattle and death, with slaughterhouse miasma. Opening night, the great Tony Larimer played him, and I kept hearing that line: "fill your lungs."  I began to suspect that I was hearing that line a good deal more often than what I'd written.

Afterwards, I asked Tony about it. He smiled and said, "That line was my default mode. Every time I went up, I just repeated it." So I at least gave him that to work with.

Eric Samuelsen

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Sunday, April 27, 2008
Stephanie Howell: Only Actor to Have Acted in Every SLAM:  First Step - Acknowledging Your Addiction
 
Hi. My name is Stephanie and I'm a SLAM addict. Really. I am. To the point where I kinda broke into a cold sweat this year when I thought I might not get my fix - my fifth SLAM - because my little sister's college graduation is the same weekend...in St. Louis, Missouri. My 5th SLAM.  How could I miss it? I've never missed one. Luckily, as it turns out, her graduation is at 8am on Friday the 16th, making it possible for me to attend the graduation, participate in a celebratory lunch, and make it to the airport in time to catch a flight and arrive back in SLC late Friday night. Plenty of time before our 9am call. Whew. It's all good.

Here's what I love about SLAM: 12 hours of crazy, adrenaline junky, emotional rollercoaster, creative kick-in-the-butt wackiness. Intensity to drive you to the brink. People looking pale and sick and talking to themselves, praying to someone, giving each other pep talks in the hallways. Occasional tears. A lot of laughs. Instant camaraderie. No time to edit. Make a choice. Good or bad, you'd better go balls-out.

Here's what's amazing: The entire rehearsal process compacted into 12 hours. Ups and downs. At 9am, you have a first read-thru filled with the requisite excitement and freshness. You're a little anxious at noon, but by 2pm you're feeling great and by the time 5pm rolls around you're panicking big-time. Right around 7pm you throw yourself at the mercy of the Theatre Gods. At 8pm it's showtime. (Here is what is also stunning...the quality of the writing.)

With a little luck, I get to spend 12 hours in what I've come to think of as My Pollyanna State, "There is nowhere else I'd rather be right now than right here with these people doing this..." I know, I know. Most people get this way after a few too many shots of tequila. I do when I'm in a show. What can I say?

Here's what sucks: That giddy 12-hours is followed by my typical 24-hour-flu-like-post-show- letdown-misery, where my family has to coddle me and make me tea and my husband has to come home early while my children (ages 5 and 7) make me "Happy Stopping a Show, Mommy" cards to cheer me up. It hardly seems fair. Usually this miserable day follows 6 weeks of rehearsals and performances. 12 hours up and 24 down? Not a good ratio.

Here's what's scary this year: 5 people per show = exponentially more potential for error. Big stage = mega-blocking issues for directors. Big proscenium stage and large house translates into additional challenges for actors. God help us all.

Here's what's absolutely mind-blowing: The Really Big Train Wreck hasn't happened yet, even after 4 SLAMs, and statistically speaking it just HAS to, one of these days. Doesn't it? Maybe this is the year. On with the show. (But first just give me a few seconds to decide what I'll offer as my sacrifice to the Theatre Gods this time around...)

Stephanie Howell

+++++

Sunday, April 22, 2008
Kyle Lewis Chats About Being Part O' SLAM From the Start

There's a nightmare that actors have been known to have.  It involves finding themselves on a stage without any knowledge of the production they are in or the lines that they are supposed to say. Yet there are lights, a set and other actors who are relying on them.

What is so scary about that? Oh, I forgot the most important part...there's an audience. Not just an audience but a packed house that is silent...waiting for the first line to be spoken...and that first line belongs to the one on stage who doesn't have a clue...

Instantly the actor wakes from this nightmare, horrified. It wasn't that their performance was bad. How could it be, they never said a word? It was their complete lack of preparation that was embarrassing. How could they have let everyone down by not being prepared to do their job?

But outside the realm of dreams, how long would it take to induce this horrific state?  Would it be any better if the actor was given 10 hours to prepare? What if the whole team were given 24 hours? Not just the actors, but the director, the designers and yes, even the playwright.

For four years now I have answered "yes" when Jerry asked me to be a part of the 24 hour event called SLAM. And for four years I have understood what actors felt when they experienced their awful dream, especially the one year I acted.

So for this fifth year of SLAM, when Jerry asked if I would direct...once again I said "yes."

Kyle Lewis

+++++

Thursday, February 21, 2008
Desert Journal: A Weekend In Escalante Before THE END OF THE HORIZON Rehearsals Begin

FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 15, 2008 – HEADING SOUTH
JASON BOWCUTT, ACTOR: Road Trip! I love road trips and was especially looking forward to this one, as it has been far too long since I was in Southern Utah. Picked up David and his home-brew beer and headed to Debora's to meet up with her and Kay.  Met two fluffy, happy puppies of Debora's who came on the journey with us. Dogs, wine, car snacks and the desert...oh yeah. David and I played dueling DJ's on the way down.  His iPod versus my Zune. I immediately can tell that David is perfect for the role of Everett. Open and cool and great taste in music, but mostly a centered demeanor that makes sense to me for the role.

We drove into Torrey around dusk and the world opened up. The red rock mountains and the light play on them took my breath away. We got to Debora's "cabin," which was this beautiful home that she had built from the ground up. Magnificent, Western-facing windows that looked out on this great formation called the Coxcomb. We opened the ine and had pasta and chatted, sitting at the table that Debora says she sat at and created the very first version of the script, which she pumped out in a 48-hour period. We watched the film "Into the Wild" which I really loved. It was shot so well and there was some great acting. It definitely had a feel that is reminiscent of Everett and the world we will be playing in.

KAY SHEAN, DIRECTOR: Left Debora's around 2:00 and headed for Torrey with Jason and David in one car, Debora, two enthusiastic dogs, and myself in the other. After a short stop in Scipio for gas and jalapeño poppers, we snaked through the Central Utah Mountains, dropped down into Loa and headed on in to Torrey.

Debora's house is amazing. After dinner of pasta, salad, bread, and wine, we settled in to watch "Into the Wild." Debora then took me to the Best Western Hotel in Torrey. The others are staying at her house. I'm jealous! However, two inside dogs don't work well for my asthma and much to my dismay, I'm better off at night in a boring Best Western Inn if I want to breathe. One compensation – the view off my hotel room balcony is stunning so it's not all bad. Tomorrow – off to Escalante to explore Everett country.


SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 16, 2008 - ESCALANTE
JASON BOWCUTT, ACTOR: Bagel, honey-almond cream cheese, "tea bag" coffee and the most magnificent view. I have to mention that Debora has an incinerating toilet, which is a definite first for me. Who knew it could be so fascinating to watch your shit burn? We jumped in the car and took Highway 12, which Debora says has often been listed as one of the most scenic highways in the country. And for good reason. You start in Torrey and head up through Boulder Mountain with all the expansive views and snow, then down into Boulder. The best part was this little stretch that has plummeting drops on either side. I loved it. We made our way to Escalante and to the visitor's center, which we found was surprisingly only open on weekdays. Hmmm. I bought tourist things at a cute little store because I am a sucker and love it.

We started making our way back stopping on the Hole in the Rock Road, which was the last journey we know for certain Everett took. It was pretty, but also a bit haunting, with the knowledge of it being the beginning of his mystery. I got a shot of David's shadow on the road, which was rather cool looking. We headed back to Boulder and rode out on the Burr Trail. Really beautiful. We drove through the canyon to a point where it opened up into a great valley, hitting it around magic time. It feels like you can see more down there. I stood there looking out and had the feeling of wanting to be out in it, amongst it. I felt like I wanted to consume it and let it fill me. It literally felt like a physical desire in my chest and I thought that this might be what Everett felt. Certainly he wrote in a poetic way about this land and it is completely understandable how this land can inspire poetry.

As opposed to me however, Everett did not seem to have an ability to deny it. I have made commitments to things in life and have others who depend on me, which I enjoy and define much about me. But if I was free of these things I could completely understand how intoxicating the pull would be and it makes me feel like I understand him better. This if nothing else makes this trip so worthwhile for me. One thing I am aware of, even with just this short time down here, is that I want to see more of myself down in this land.

DAVID FETZER, ACTOR: It seems the trend is to get caught up in Everett Ruess the legend as opposed to Everett Ruess the human being. It's an easy habit to fall into, especially since there's so much mystery behind the person. But honoring the legend leads to romanticizing everything about him, and romanticizing usually leads to sentimentality, which chokes the life/truth/honesty out of anything – especially a theatrical performance. I'm trying to steer clear of this tendency when I think about Everett. It can be hard, especially out here in Torrey and Escalante, where Everett's image and artwork have been immortalized in shelves of gift shop merchandise, his disappearance speculated in a variety of tall tales from the locals... even the scenery itself – rock formations that I can really only appreciate with quiet awe – seem to encapsulate the legend of Everett Ruess. Everything out here is geared to deify him.

KAY SHEAN, DIRECTOR: An amazing day! Blue sky, crisp air, and perfect weather for our Escalante adventure. Winding along Highway 12 around Boulder Mountain and into the red rock canyons, we stopped at several lookouts to take pictures and get a feel for the area. The vast expanse of mesas, rock formations, mountains, and streams seems to go on forever. It really does look like you could travel to the end of the horizon.

We had lunch in Escalante and confirmed with the waitress that the locals do say "es-ca-lant" (rhymes with "can't"). A stop at a shop to purchase souvenirs and then we dropped into another place to get coffee for Jason and a chocolate shake for me (made with real ice cream not that soft-serve crap!) Next, we headed for the "Hole in the Rock" trail where Everett was last seen walking off into the wilderness. After driving several miles along a very muddy dirt road we confirmed what the road conditions paper at the closed Visitors Center in Escalante had posted – the road was impassable (at least for us). We did park and walk the road a little to get an idea of what Everett saw as he headed out of Escalante.  Then we moved to plan b (an appropriate step for us to take, we thought) and explored the Burr Trail. We walked along the road for about a mile. It was fascinating to watch how the diminishing afternoon light changed the appearance of the rock formations. Had dinner tonight at the Best Western. Not bad at all. In fact, quite good. Tomorrow we're going to Capitol Reef and then head back to Salt Lake.

DEBORA THREEDY, PLAYWRIGHT/ACTOR: Kay, Jason, David, and I all caravanned down to Torrey on Friday, getting here at dusk. I told Jason it was very appropriate that he was staying at my house, because when Captain Johnson showed up at the Ruess's house offering to help search for Everett, he ended up spending the night at their house (even sleeping in Everett's bed!). The four of us spent the evening eating (I made opera spaghetti, so named because it was Pavorotti's favorite dish), talking, and watching "Into the Wild," the recent movie about another young man who goes off on a solo trip and never returns.

Today we all piled into my car and drove over to the Escalante side of the mountain, stopping at all the viewpoints along the way – particularly on the Hogback, where Highway 12 wends its way along a narrow ridge between Boulder Creek on the east and Calf Creek on the west, an area that is truly "an ocean of rock, as far as the eye can see," as Stella says. There was considerably more snow on the Escalante side of Boulder Mountain – they must have gotten hammered by last Thursday's storm. Appropriate in a way, as a few weeks after Everett took off back in November 1934 the Escalante canyons experienced a rare three-day blizzard and a lot of snow. We ate lunch in Escalante and the waitress (who was looking harried although there were only two tables occupied, one by us and one by three guys who were clearly local ranchers) confirmed the local pronunciation of Escalante without the last "ee" syllable and rhyming with "slant." Then we walked up and down the street for a bit. It was strange and a little exciting to contemplate how Everett had no doubt walked down this same street and seen the same old houses that we were seeing (although they weren't quite as old back then). When we got back to the car we noticed that the building across the street, although now empty, looked like an old movie theater. I suggested that this was where Everett had taken a couple of local boys he had befriended to the movie his last night in town (ironically enough, the movie was "Death Takes a Holiday") – but then I noticed a placard that said the theater was built in 1938 – four years after Everett was here. Oh well.

After lunch we drove down the "Hole in the Rock" trail but we didn't get very far before the mud from the melting snow stopped us. Jason did get a neat photo of David's hadow on the road – it looks like the shadow of Everett that's on the poster art for the how. We then drove out onto the Burr Trail – I'd hoped that maybe there wasn't as much snow over there and that we could hike in the Gulch, but there was just as much snow. So we just walked along the road in Long Canyon for a bit. By that time we were losing daylight so we headed back over the mountain, dodging a few deer on the way. We had dinner at a motel in town (there's not much open in Torrey this time of year). As we went to dinner right at dusk there was this weird cloud stretched out across the sky on a north-south axis, looking lenticular and fuzzy, almost like a front was coming in, but it was "facing" the wrong way – the straight edge was on the west and the streaming edge was on the east. At sunset it was colored pink and lavender; when we came out from dinner after dark, the cloud was still there in exactly the same place, only it was ghostly white in the moonlight.

Later that evening I set up the hammer dulcimer and played a bit, and David got out his guitar and sang us some of his songs. Then David played around with the dulcimer and his noodling sounded really good. We ended up talking until close to midnight.

KAY SHEAN, DIRECTOR: So much fun to see the reactions of Jason and David to the red rock canyons! Yesterday we were viewing the expanse from a distance. Today we experienced it up close. Watching David literally leap from rock to rock, climb up the cliffs to explore a cave, or perch on a narrow ledge high above our heads made it clear we have the perfect Everett. Jason's acute awareness of variations in light and shadow made him our choice for designated photographer. I could practically see him channeling Harry as he helped Debora scramble over rocks and climb an especially high boulder field. We played around with some of the scenes in the show, trying to create the physical movement and sensory experience for the actors. It's always surprising how quickly the temperatures change between sun and shade and when the wind comes up. We saw a few petroglyphs as well as some modern day graffiti on the canyon walls. It must be part of human nature to make a mark showing you have been in a place – for example - "passo por aqui," carvings of hunters, deer, "Nemo," or in today's world, the much less pleasing "JM 198." Next, we drove to the expanse of petroglyphs close to the entrance of the park, which have been protected. Horses, big horn sheep, some serpentine lines that some people believe are maps, human figures – Amazing! At 3:30 Jason, David and I headed home, envious of Debora who is staying one more day. We played "musical iPods" on the way home, which, besides being fun, kept us awake for the drive after a non-stop, red-rock weekend.

DEBORA THREEDY, PLAYWRIGHT/ACTOR: This morning we drove into Capitol Reef National Park (where there was almost no snow) to hike Grand Wash. Glorious day – the clear blue sky stood out against the Navajo domes. Some wind, which gave an edge to the temperature – down right brisk in the shadows. David and I had a long talk about how we think everyone should experience trail where Everett was last seen walking off into the wilderness. After driving several miles along a very muddy dirt road we confirmed what the road conditions paper at the closed Visitors Center in Escalante had posted – the road was impassable (at least for us). We did park and walk the road a little to get an idea of what Everett saw as he headed out of Escalante.

SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 17, 2008 – CAPITOL REEF
JASON BOWCUTT, ACTOR: Today is Capitol Reef day—a national park I have never ventured to before. Well it's truly amazing, overwhelming. We drove in past a big formation that Stella called the Pregnant Nun, and it really did look like a pregnant nun.  It was warm enough to have the window down a bit, which is so great for February. We stopped and did some hiking, about 2 miles in and 2 miles out. I can't believe I have not spent more time down here. The colors and the play of light on the canyon, the towering sheer-rock walls were amazing and it just seemed to get better at every turn. Hiking along with my fellow Horizon-mates I started to feel the show come in. I love these kinds of adventures with productions. I didn't ever think I was there as one of my "characters" because well...I'm not crazy. But the family relationship feeling that is always created within a cast did start to happen. I have a scene as Harry Aleson that takes place with Stella and hiking along with Debora was great for remembering later. The highlight of the day was seeing some of the hieroglyphs on the rocks walls of animals and people and strange images that really make your mind wander too what was the world of these people. We left for Salt Lake around 3pm, played Dueling DJ's again. I am really happy I did this and love the images that are I have now to bring into rehearsal.

DAVID FETZER, ACTOR: Today we walked a canyon trail, a considerably more intimate interaction with the land than driving the scenic 12 but rarely straying from the car. Debora has been our learned guide. She knows her shit, and we've benefited from her insights. She took us to a petroglyph too close to the trail to be advertised by the guide books, for fear that dumb bunnies would deface it with their own flash-in-the-pan initials. And they most certainly would have, if not for cairn-intolerant leave-no-tracers like Debora Threedy.

We've been witnessing the kind of beauty that Everett deemed too precious to ever be away from. No matter how strong my appreciation of this landscape may be, it could never compare to the reverence with which I believe Everett regarded it. I can't even think of an equivalent in my life – something that I could dedicate my whole being to at this very moment. This may have been part of why (as he expressed in his writing) Everett felt somewhat isolated from the disposition of the rest of the world: his was an unprecedented love of beauty – one that may have ultimately estranged him. There's wilderness alone at least once in their lifetime; you relate to nature differently when you are alone in it then when you're with someone else. It gave me some things to think about with Stella. She and Everett were so close; when she says to Everett "I don't think it's wise for you to travel alone," does she understand why he needs to do it? Does she mean it when she says that or is she saying it because she thinks she ought to? Is she about to say "but I understand why you do it" when Everett cuts her off with "I'm not an invalid?"

As we hiked I also thought about Stella's 1948 trip, when Harry Aleson took her to see Everett's last camp down in Davis Gulch, a fifteen mile round trip hike from the line cabin where they'd left the truck. They weren't able to do it all in one day, and ended up making a rough camp in the canyon bottom and hiking out the next day. I've never been there but all the descriptions I've read say it's a strenuous hike with a steep descent into the canyon. Rough country – much rougher than the four-mile hike we were doing through the fairly level Grand Wash. I wondered how Stella fared – she was in her late fifties at the time. Was she in good shape? She'd been a dancer in her youth – did she still work out? She also did some camping with her boys, but it was car camping. She wrote about how the climb up to the alcove was difficult for her, that Harry had to point out hand and foot holds for her. I'm thinking that by the time Stella got to that alcove she was pretty wiped. But she was a trooper; she never complained. Kay, Jason and David left for Salt Lake around three. I get one more day down here before I have to head back to start rehearsals on Tuesday. It was kind of strange to say goodbye to them, knowing that the next time I saw them, we'd be in rehearsal.

Jason Bowcutt, David Fetzer, Kay Shean, Debora Threedy

+++++

Monday, February 11, 2008
Kay Shean Prepares to Direct the World Premiere of THE END OF THE HORIZON

There is something mystical about Debora Threedy's play THE END OF THE HORIZON.  When Jerry talked to me about directing the show, I was positive it wouldn't fit into my schedule. Wrong! The dates were a perfect match with other commitments I already had.

Reading the script, I felt an instant connection to the material, perhaps because of my strong personal connection to the Utah landscape. In fact, when my kids were young and we lived in L.A. they used to joke that I had a cartoon balloon over my head shaped like a large finger beckoning, "Come back to Utah.... Come back to Utah." (Add ghostly voices and you'll get the full effect.) Of course, they were right. Many years later here I am, living in Utah, loving every minute and directing a play about a young man who heard those same voices calling years before I was born.

Jerry arranged a lunch meeting for Debora and me. After we talked for a few minutes, my desire to direct this show exploded into full-blown lust. I couldn't wait to get started. The fact that we were more than a year away from production, forced me to delay gratification. I hate delaying gratification of any sort!

In doing research, I discovered that one of my uncles was personally involved in the search for Everett and wrote to Stella telling her of the search efforts. More "mystical" connections.

Now, just a week away from rehearsal, the whole thing is rapidly falling into place. The opportunity to view all the Ruess family's personal journals, letters, telegrams, and pictures, recently donated to Marriott Library's Special Collections at the University of Utah, was invaluable. When we walked into the conference room at Research Park and saw a table reaching almost wall to wall with folders filled to the brim, it was mind-boggling! Within minutes, all of us were pouring over letters in Everett's own handwriting, journals written by Stella describing the search and her feelings about the disappearance, Christopher's personal records and poetry, newspaper clippings, family photos, telegrams, and much, much more. We saw pictures of Waldo in Los Angeles, surrounded by Hollywood starlets, which opened up a completely new aspect of his character. It was almost surreal to watch each actor pouring over the actual materials from the person he or she is going to play.

As a director, I stood back and watched body language change, eyes light up as some note or comment in a letter or journal sparked an idea for further character development, and relationships between different characters take on a whole new level.  It was amazing. And yes...more than a little bit mystical.

In a few days, a group of us is taking take a road trip to the Escalante area to see where the drama actually began. Then, it's back home and into rehearsal. Thank God! As I said at the beginning of this blog, I'm not good at delayed gratification.

Kay Shean

+++++

Sunday, November 25, 2007
Is GUTENBERG! THE MUSICAL! Family Fare?
From the December issue of Catalyst Magazine

I was snowed in for an extra week while in New York this past February and was doing what I do while I'm in the city - overdosing on theatre. I went to see a ridiculous, ridiculous show off-Broadway called GUTENBERG! THE MUSICAL!. At intermission I realized I had laughed non-stop through the first act. That had never happened to me - a true lightbulb moment. So I started making phone calls during intermission, having not even seen the second act, to see about bringing the show to Plan-B.

GUTENBERG! THE MUSICAL! is groundbreaking for us, but not in the way you might think. Since March, we've staged three plays about the issues surrounding premature death (THE ALIENATION EFFEKT, FACING EAST, EXPOSED) and, quite honestly, we needed a bit of a laugh. And we figured our audience did as well. And, although we're telling people it's 'Spinal Tap' meets 'Saturday Night Live' meets 'Waiting For Guffman,' it seems that this show is family fare! We're recommending children 12 and up...but two four-year-olds have enjoyed it so far - so much so that they had notes for the director (me).

GUTENBERG! THE MUSICAL! is a two-person musical about Bud and Doug, who think they're written an epic about Johann Gutenberg, the inventor of the printing press. What they've actually done is created a rather craptacular musical. Bud and Doug are brought to life at break-neck speed by comic masters Jay Perry and Kirt Bateman. It's through their earnest portrayal of this misguided duo that find yourself caring about them and their dream of having a Broadway producer see their show and taking it directly to Broadway!

It's been a little surreal fielding phone calls asking if the show is appropriate for kids. Not a question we usually get at Plan-B. This is what I've been elling people:
- there is one F word
- there is one gay joke
- there are many boob jokes

I got one call from a mother asking me if it was appropriate for her 12-year-old son. I gave her the list above. She laughed. "I say the F word more than I should. And my son is gay, so the boob jokes won't really be an issue."

Jerry Rapier

+++++

Monday, November 19, 2007
Jay Perry Waxes Poetic About GUTENBERG! THE MUSICAL!

I don't know which is tougher for an actor; the mental toll taken by creating drama, or the physical toll taken by creating comedy. Both are exhausting and supremely rewarding.

Working on GUTENBERG! THE MUSICAL! has been a great challenge for me and has pushed me to new levels in many ways. Here's the thing. I'm a very recent non-smoker. Or should I say, a smoker who recently quit. That's the way a smoker's anonymous group would want me to put it I think. Anyway, I quit smoking not only for my health and to join the movement of bringing sexy back, but because I knew that it would just not jive with performing a two-man musical epic. Also because Jerry insisted.

I'm very glad I did. Three days later I moved into a new place in-between rehearsals for RADIO HOUR: LAVENDER & EXILE, which also coincided with the first week of rehearsal for the afore-mentioned musical epic. I quickly realized that I had picked a most challenging time to quit. Any smoker will tell you that the best time to quit is NOT when you have a great deal of pressure or 'stress triggers' that will make quitting unreasonably difficult. Well... chalk me up to the anti-conventional-wisdom-despite-the-awful-sleepless-and-angst-ridden-nights lot.

Of course, I did eventually get a decent night's sleep, which was nice. Putting this wild show up in those three weeks was truly a huge undertaking. I knew from the start that I was in the best possible company, having Kirt Bateman to share the stage and the sometimes overwhelming workload with. Also, knowing that Jerry would be keeping a close eye on the details freed me up to eventually stop looking for my character's deepest core values and beliefs. Instead, I surrendered to his utter simplicity.  That's when I know it's the right stuff, I guess...when it's really hard work and I have no real-time perception of how it's coming across. For me that means that I'm getting somewhere.

I discovered that in this show there are endless possibilities. I love comedy. I love to make people laugh. I'm having a hell of a good time. It's amazing how much work it takes to get to a place where you don't have to think and the whole thing just clicks. It seems like that's a lesson I learn again and again.. just through a different rehearsal process.

Hours and hours of work, sleepless nights, over analyzing, try it one way, scrap it, try something else, learn new steps, and remember to support it all with breath.  The rehearsal process for GUTENBERG! THE MUSICAL! was like a year of conservatory training in three weeks...with a dose of healthy, slightly masochistic self-improvement thrown in for good measure. I wouldn't change a thing.
 
Jay Perry

+++++

Sunday, November 11, 2007
Actor Kirt Bateman Rambles About Shifting Gears from EXPOSED to GUTENBERG! THE MUSICAL!

I don't blog. I don't write. Let's face it, I can barely speak. But here goes:  It's been an exhausting and terrifying three weeks since the opening of EXPOSED. The Monday after we opened Mary's play about the appalling plight of Downwinders we started rehearsals for GUTENBERG! THE MUSICAL! about the desperate plight of Johann Gutenberg (well, at least as envisioned by two musical theatre geeks, Bud and Doug). The similarities in the material are astounding. Both are called "theatre." That's about it.

EXPOSED was vital. GUTENBERG is ridiculous fun.

Going from rehearsals of GUTENBERG to performances of EXPOSED in the same day felt like what I imagine it would feel like to quarterback a championship football game (yeah, like I know what THAT feels like) and do a synchronized water ballet (that, I do know how to do) all at the same time. Throw in a day-job and you have the recipe for an extremely tired, fat, bald man in his 30s wondering what the hell he was thinking when he agreed to this schedule.

Well, I'll tell you what I was thinking: these were two amazing shows - for different reasons, of course - for an amazing company, with amazing casts, and I would be the biggest fool not to do everything in my power to work it out! So, I did.

Between rehearsals for G and performances of E it would take me nearly 1 1⁄2 hours to transition. Part of my transition ritual (I'm a fairly ritualistic actor and also one of those superstitious actors that you always read about and laugh at, because... um...how ridiculous!) was to go into the ladies dressing room and let the medicinal energy of Joyce Cohen, Teresa Sanderson and Teri Cowan help me remember what we were there to do...plus Joyce had amazing herbal remedies for my sore voice and body. I couldn't do this in the gent's dressing room because all I do in there is laugh...and get dressed.

Jason Tatom and Mark Fossen are funny peoples. The ladies of EXPOSED were funny too...just, in a not-so-funny way. Anyway, after "the switch" was made (other rites, rituals, and passages assisted in making the change-over occur), I was good-to-go for EXPOSED and didn't even think about GUTENBERG for the rest of the evening (mostly).

Now, we are nearing hell week for GUTENBERG and EXPOSED closed last Sunday (in a way, it seems like it closed ages ago).

Now that EXPOSED is closed, I miss my peeps. Joyce, Teresa, Teri, Jason and Mark were the most amazing, drama-free, professional cast. I felt incredibly honored to be with them. On the other hand, Jay Perry is a mess. It's all drama, tantrums and drunkenness for every rehearsal!  Okay, that was a joke. Jay—as anyone who has ever worked with him, talked to him, or seen him walking down the street will tell you—is an utter delight (also a comic master and brilliant actor).

By now, I should be feeling very comfortable with lines, blocking, music, everything. However, one week from opening G...I'm terrified. I don't know if I know what I think I know about what I'm supposed to know about GUTENBERG. Yet, I can do that list of names from the final scene of EXPOSED in my sleep. I'm confident it will all come together for our little musical by Friday's opening though. It always does...especially when Jerry is at the helm.

Jay and I held a secret private rehearsal the other night night and bonded some more.  He's good peeps. I miss my EXPOSED experience; but am ready to make some people laugh (I hope)! Making people laugh is like a narcotic (or what I imagine a narcotic would feel like).

Now, I'm done with this long blog. Do I have to do some weird thing to end it like: semi-colon, dash, close parenthesis?

Kirt Bateman

+++++

Sunday, October 28, 2007
Playwright Matthew Ivan Bennett on creating this year’s RADIO HOUR

I remember as a kid, maybe fourteen, gleefully listening to my father's Abbot and Costello and "The Shadow" cassette tapes, and really wondering why the radio play became unpopular. I mean, I understood that television supplanted radio...What I wondered is why the two mediums, both so interesting, couldn't co-exist. Why must technology be "updated" rather than, say, diversified?

Even though TV is capable of technically duplicating all that radio does, AND adds the element of the image, TV still doesn't duplicate the experience. With radio, the images live inside of you--it's like having a book read aloud to you (which, in a child-like way, is more fun than reading yourself).

What I also dig about radio is that it can be enjoyed in the dark, lying down, or in the mountains if you can catch a signal. The title of my first play came from a turn of phrase I heard over the radio (Coast-to-Coast AM with Art Bell) when I was camping in college. I was fifteen feet from a gurgling brook, staring at stars, tending coals in a firepit. I even like it when a signal doesn't come in totally clearly--it forces you to listen carefully. Writing for Plan-B's RADIO HOUR has reminded me, too, that our culture is so saturated with entertainment that it's lost novelty. If you listen to an old radio show, you'll notice that they're very presentational and have an aura of luxury. The announcer voice invites you into the experience like you're a special guest. The old shows weren't just shows; they were produced like big events.

I tried to capture a little of that as I put the RADIO HOUR scripts together.

Matthew Ivan Bennett


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Monday, October 22, 2007
Actress Teresa Sanderson Reflects On Opening Week of EXPOSED

Well here we go, we survived hell week and the show is open. That is always a feat, but for this show it was surreal. We did the show for Mary's family on Wednesday night. After the performance Julie, (Mary and Ann's sister) thanked us for giving her her sister nack for an hour and a half. I cried, we all cried.

The next night (our preview) the house was sold out and full of the folks from Heal Utah - the energy was intense. Actors love that energy we get from an audience but I don't think I've ever had it coming at me like that before. The show went well and I think we all felt like we were ready to open. Good thing because we are opening and Jerry informs us that the run is almost sold out and we will be adding performances.

So finally it's here...opening night. Now mind you Kirt and I know that some of the people we play will be seeing the play, I had already met Carole Gallagher at the Gallery opening the Friday before, she was lovely and I tried to relax. But opening night (after the show, thanks God) they were suddenly All there it was crazy. I had an idea that Michelle Thomas was there because there was a jazzy wheelchair in the lobby as we made out entrance and, oh yeah, I was sitting two chairs away from here the entire play. Tried hard not to think about that too. Then walking across the street to the after-show party Jerry introduced me to Darlene Phillips. I walked into Squatters and they were all there: Preston, Michelle, Carole, Darlene - it was crazy. I've been in theatre a long time now and a lot of cool things come about because of the show you're doing, but to actually get to meet, talk to and touch those people I am trying to give a voice to every night was something else. There really are no words to describe it. I'll never forget it. The best part is they are so excited about the play and our work in it. So whew, that's a big relief!

So now we really are open and made it through the first weeks run. A day off what will that be like? Nice but it will be great to be back on Thursday telling this amazing story with this amazing group of people.

Teresa Sanderson

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Sunday, October 21, 2007
Actor Mark Fossen On Opening a Show One Day/Beginning Rehearsal for Another Show The Next Day

In  many ways, EXPOSED and RADIO HOUR: LAVENBER & EXILE could not be more different: one is a shattering work on the horrors of nuclear testing, the other is a collection of ghost stories, fake ads, and silly jingles. It's certainly a shift to go from Opening Night of a truly important political statement to beginning rehearsals of pure fun within a space of about 14 hours. In addition, I've gone from a world of acting with which I'm familiar to the life of a Foley Artist, confronted by a table full of bits, bobs and bobbins all supposed to create audio illusions. Radio theatre is very technical, which means the rehearsal process is very different. Teri described "Hell Week" last week, and while you ramp up to that in theatre, that's where you start off in radio.

As far apart as these experiences seem to be, it's what ties them together that keeps my energy up through this weekend when I'll be spending most of my waking hours either rehearsing or performing.  Though wildly different, both EXPOSED and RADIO HOUR: LAVENDER & EXILE are local stories being told by local playwrights, and that couldn't make me happier.  It's too easy to think that theatre happens elsewhere, and we simply import and consume it. It's energizing to create new works of art and that doesn't need to be restricted to actors in coastal locales.

There's no doubt that this crossover is going to be tiring, but the rewards of making new theatre that no one's ever seen or heard before make up for it. I can always sleep in November ...

Mark Fossen

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Monday, October 15, 2007
Actress Teri Cowan Talks About Tech Week for EXPOSED

Lucky me, I get to blog about the week of Hell.....er, tech! This is the week where suddenly the scenes that were coming along quite nicely when you performed them on a floor with a tape outlining the set, become somewhat maddening when a mere 8-inch-rise step throws you completely off your game. Who knew how many seconds would be added to an entrance when you actually have to go AROUND a set piece, a curtain, or a (you fill in the blank). Yes, this does happen every single production you're in and yes, in your actor brain you think you're completely prepared for the little something thrown in the mix that can't possibly hamper your flawless performance. Then suddenly that line you've never missed, EVER, completely escapes you because now, you must utter it standing on a platform rather than on a taped floor. I know. Ridiculous. Next, throw in lights (or lack of), sound, projections, costumes etc. and suddenly everything you think you had a handle on goes out the window. I'd love to say this awakening comes with absolutely no personal stress or tension, but I'd be lying. Sometimes these days can be very ugly but fortunately in the case of EXPOSED whatever minor psychodrama we've encountered has been nipped in the bud quickly and with good grace.

Finally, as we approach opening week, we're in a place where we can rediscover the piece with all of these layers added into the whole. Hopefully the thing is so soundly in our bones that all the technical aspects become an enhancement. On a personal level Mary's piece is so moving to me that it's actually been a relief to worry about a pant length or earring choice because to be consumed by the tenderness I feel for the characters is sometimes overwhelming. To be playing a character who was a living, breathing, incredible woman who left behind a husband, three children she adored, a loving sister, parents, family and friends is a responsibility that sometimes takes my breath away. To know that those people will see the production for the first time this week is daunting. But I feel so honored to help tell Ann's story. Ann's and all the others.

Teri Cowan

 

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Monday, October 8, 2007
Actor Jason Tatom Chats About Rehearsing EXPOSED

A blog, huh? Well, welcome to my first ever blog. Now I'm culturally caught up to what, '96, '97? Before you know it I'll be saying things like "Dawg," or "Awiiight," or "Oh, snap!" Or even, God forbid, "Fo Shizzle," while yearning to get a mobile phone that's roughly the size of a Yugo. Well, I should probably get started, so here I go...and, BLOG!

We are just finishing up what I like to call "Frustration Week." The first week is when you kind of get your feet wet with the initial parts of the process: meeting actors and technicians you may never have worked with before, read throughs, costume fittings, and (hopefully) rough blocking the whole show. And since we all did our best to be reasonably familiar with our lines, if not actually fully off book going into rehearsals, it was essentially easy-peasy-lemon-squeazy. Then, we move into the second week, the aforementioned "Frustration Week." This is the week where you might be feeling a little cocky (and when I say "you," gentle reader, rest assured that I mean "me") and be certain that you know your lines. But "knowing" your lines is some how mystically tied to being in actual, physical contact with the script itself. Somehow, the simple act of putting the script down and losing that tactile connection with it, renders one (and yes, I do mean me) a virtual amnesiac.

 

Don't get me wrong, you know your words, your intentions, and your blocking, just not necessarily all at the same time. putting two or more of these things together can be tempting fate. And that's the killer. The little bit of an ego I have (and for those of you who know me, I apologize for what ever beverage it was that just came spurting out of your noses while reading that last sentence), is wrapped up in the theatre. The rest of my life is a mess, but the theatre is one of the few places I truly feel I belong, where I can truly excel. And before you start offering me names of various health care professionals, you have to realize that these doubts and frustrations can be positive, motivating things. I have doubts because I care about the process, and serving the piece is very important to me. And I see the same care in everyone involved in the play.

The only thing I tend to expect of audience members who come to the theatre, is that you come with an open mind. That you are willing to listen to what is said, and then make informed decisions about what you liked, what you think, and why. But I don't know that that is necessary for this particular piece. I think it's okay to show up to the theatre with a bit of a chip on your shoulder, or a little fire in your belly. The stories dealt with here are personal, powerful and raw. And even more so when you remember that the stories happened to real people, who have been dealing with the after effects of radiation exposure for decades. Just be ready to start digging into your own family histories, to start wondering, even realizing that you may have lost a loved one, or loved ones, to radioactive fallout.

Before wrapping up, I would like to share a personal realization I have had in the rehearsing of EXPOSED. My own Grandfather was a brakeman for the Southern Pacific Railroad for a couple of decades, riding throughout long desolate stretches of the southwest. When he was finally taken from my family a little over twenty years ago, he was suffering from four different cancers. Three of those cancers were fatal. How does a non-drinker, non-smoker, who worked hard out-of-doors his entire life, get four different cancers? I can't ever really know the causes, but working on Mary's play has made me form my own opinions.

So come to the play, do a little digging, maybe get mad. And then hopefully start getting involved in whatever way you can.

Hey, dig me. I blogged.

Jason Tatom

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Monday, October 1, 2007
Joyce Cohen On Working As An Actor In EXPOSED

 

I have been looking forward to the beginning of rehearsals since last Spring when I participated in the public reading. This piece is so important. It feels like one which hould be heard everywhere.  Rehearsals are exciting. Both Mary and Jerry are open to our questions and suggestions. Because each of them have a clear and powerful vision of the play, l know hat we are all working toward the same goal. There is stunning information to impart and the trick is to deliver it dramatically. The goal is how best to honor that. My mind is working overtime! Sleep is not coming easily.

I always read at bedtime and I decided early on that I would NOT take my research to bed - I thought the subject matter would be too disturbing. But, as synchronicity would have it, the other night I began to read ESSAYS BY E.B.WHITE and I came upon a piece he had written in the 50s about testing and fallout. A couple excerpts:

"Human beings have always been willing to shed their blood for what they believed in. Yesterday this was clear and simple; we would pay in blood because, after the price was exacted, there was still a chance to make good the gain. But the modern price tag is not blood. Today our leaders and the leaders of our nation are, in effect, saying, 'We will defend our beliefs not alone with our blood - by God we'll defend them, if we have to, with our genes.'...I admire the spirit of it, but the logic eludes me. I doubt whether any noble principle - or any ignoble principle, either, for that matter - can be preserved at the price of genetic disintegration."

"The rich brown patch of ground used to bring delight to eye and mind at this fresh season of promise. For me the scene has been spoiled by the maggots that work in the mind. Tomorrow we will have rain, and the rain falling on the garden will carry its cargo of debris from old explosions in distant places. Whether the amount of this freight is great or small, whether it is measurable by the farmer or can only be guessed at, one thing is certain: the character of rain has changed, the joy of watching it soak the waiting earth has been diminished, and the whole meaning and worth of gardens has been brought into question." (from SOOTFALL AND FALLOUT - 1956)

This writer (CHARLOTTE'S WEB, essays for THE NEW YORKER magazine, poetry, etc.) who lived and worked on the east coast(!), was writing eloquently about the dire consequences of atomic testing in the 50s. Discovering that essay was a lovely gift. But, truth be told, this 'coincidence' is not a surprise. This happens to me whenever I'm working on a play. Poetry, music, literature...one or all of those forms with messages about the subject I am immersed in ALWAYS find their way to me. And, believe me, it's a blessing for which I am deeply grateful.

The play is staged now - it has a rough shape. The first week is done and sleep is proving to be ever more elusive...

Joyce Cohen

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Monday, September 24, 2007
Playwright Mary Dickson on writing EXPOSED
From the October issue of Catalyst Magazine

I didn't intend to write a play. I was writing a book about the human consequences of nuclear testing that blended my personal story as a downwinder with powerful documentation. In the summer of 2005, I was invited to spend a month as a writer-in-residence at the Mesa Refuge in Point Reyes, California to work on the manuscript. One day my book would be included on the bookshelf alongside those of previous residents – Terry Tempest Williams, Gray Brechin, Peter Barnes and so many other environmental writers I admired. I returned home that summer with a 275-page manuscript.

Then, I met L.A. actress/activist Mimi Kennedy, who was in Salt Lake to speak at a political fundraiser. I told her about my thyroid cancer and my work on behalf of downwinders. It turned out she had family members in New Jersey with thyroid problems. That's when I showed her part of my manuscript that documented how widespread fallout from nuclear testing was. I showed her how areas in New Jersey and across the country were hot spots, how thyroid problems including cancer like mine were common among people who had been exposed to fallout as children. Later that week she left a message, "I read your piece again and it's just amazing. So much beauty and heart. I wanted to call you and egg you on to write a play. It would stand for all time. I'll get my friends in L.A. to do a staged reading."

I've had monologues produced, but a play? She had to be kidding. Her friends in L.A.? Sure. I chalked it up to one of those moments of unbridled enthusiasm that leads people to make big plans they never intend to pursue once the burst subsides. But a few weeks later, she called again. "How's the play coming?" "Oh just fine," I lied. She had a date for a fundraiser that would include a staged reading. All I had to do was to tell my truth, she said. "Make it personal. Tell your story. Weave in the facts." That night I started writing a play.

Amazingly, everything kept falling into place. At a dance concert, Pulitzer Prize-nominated playwright Aden Ross told me she wanted to get together and pick my brain for a play she wanted to write about downwinders. I told her about Mimi Kennedy and the play I was writing. "Of course!" she said enthusiastically. "This is your play. I'm so excited you're doing it." We started meeting for coffee at a place we called "The Two Anarchists" because neither of us could ever remember its name. Aden became my mentor, a dear friend and a source of boundless encouragement. Whenever I felt like giving up, she pulled me back in. "Writing is easy," she quoted a writer – another name we couldn't remember. "You just cut open your veins and bleed." So I cut open my veins and let the play take shape.

As I wrote, rewrote, massaged, took out scenes and added others, Aden cheered me on. Then, she asked if should could tell Jerry Rapier at Plan-B Theatre about the script.  I've long admired Jerry for understanding the power of art to tell the stories that shape our lives. When Jerry called to say he was going on a trip and would like to take my script along, I protested, saying it wasn't finished. Jerry said that didn't matter, he just wanted to read what I had. So I reluctantly gave him the script. A few days later he left a message on my answering machine. "We must talk post haste." I called him. "I want to produce your play," he said.

And so Plan-B's production of EXPOSED began. In many ways I've been working on it all my life. I am one of countless Americans who suffered the consequences of nuclear testing, having been diagnosed with thyroid cancer when I was 29. My older sister died of an autoimmune disease. In the Salt Lake City neighborhood where we grew up, I counted more than 54 people who got sick or died from fallout-related illnesses. From 1951 to 1992 the U.S. government exploded 928 nuclear bombs at the Nevada Test Site. Winds blew the fallout from those bombs across the nation while our government when they assured us, "There is no danger." We traded our trust for our health and ultimately our lives.

Part memoir, part oral history and part journalistic investigation, EXPOSED puts a needed human face on what happened to unsuspecting populations as a result of nearly 1,000 atomic bombs exploded on our own soil. Taking Mimi's advice to make the script personal, EXPOSED follows two sisters – Mary, a writer, and Ann, a stay-at-home mother (beautifully played by accomplished actresses Joyce Cohen and Teri Cowan respectively). Directed by Jerry Rapier, the play begins in 1985 when Mary has been treated with radiation after her cancer surgery. The play follows the sisters through their struggles with their illnesses, their support for each other, their discovery of the government's betrayal and the source of their diseases, their fight to expose the truth and their determination not to let the mistakes of the past be repeated.

During her investigation, Mary meets and interviews people across the country, including a writer in New York who documented heavy fallout in upstate New York; a doctor in Missouri who linked the high cancer rates in his county with fallout; a former  Air Force Colonel who tracked fallout as far as Canada; and downwinders and activists like Preston Truman, Michelle Thomas and Darlene Phillips, and Carole Gallagher who share their stories and expertise. Actors Kirt Bateman and Teresa Sanderson deftly play multiple roles as these characters.

Scenes with the two sisters are juxtaposed with scenes taken from the actual declassified minutes of Atomic Energy Commission meetings, and testimony from government hearings. There's even a scene with billionaire Howard Hughes, who was determined to "buy nuclear peace." The play, which uncovers the web of government lies and cover-ups, spans the years through the fall of the Berlin Wall and the end of the Cold War, right up to the Bush administration's push for new nuclear weapons that could lead to renewed nuclear testing including Divine Strake. Actors Jason Tatom and Mark Fossen play Official 1 and Official 2, who represent an assortment of government officials, including Atomic Energy Commissioners and those working within the nuclear industry who deny fallout's effects. They are, in essence, the everyman of the military-industrial complex.

EXPOSED is more than a retelling of a painful chapter of our nation's past. It shows how the subject is still relevant today. We have a government that is still lying and covering up the facts about weapons of mass destruction, using fear to carry out a policy that puts Americans at increased risk. And worse, a government that still considers renewed testing a viable option.

EXPOSED is timely for another reason as well. Because of the lag effect (often decades) between fallout exposure and subsequent illness, we are still living with the ongoing suffering from fallout. For downwinders, it's never over. That why EXPOSED memorializes those who have died. Audience members will be invited to add names of other victims on a mural outside the theatre.

The response to the play has been incredibly heartening. After an early reading, actors started telling their own stories. One said his father had had thyroid cancer and his mother was dying of liver cancer. Another actor showed the scar on her neck from thyroid cancer surgery. The play elicits similar responses on every staged reading – including those on a Nation magazine cruise and at a staged public reading at Playhouse West in Walnut Creek, California. Stories and more stories continue to come forward. Downwinders have been the forgotten casualties of the Cold War, the people deemed expendable by a government that called us "a low use segment of the population." I wrote EXPOSED to tell our story and to shed light on what a New York Times journalist called the "most prodigiously reckless program of human experimentation in U.S. history."

As a writer, I know the power of words, and while the pen may be mightier than the sword, the eraser is mightier still. By bringing my very personal story to life and combining it with historical facts, I hope to ensure that our stories will not be erased.  EXPOSED both bears witness and serves as a warning. If we have learned anything from four decades of atomic testing, it is that we all live downwind.

Mary Dickson