I am writing a sidetrack post today before I get into my "Lesson" post. There is a legendary story that I am at the center of. It has been told by many, and by myself hundreds of times. It is probably my most memorable moment as an actor in my career. When you think of memorable moments in an actors career you think of memorable performances like Michael Mendelson in Bent, Valarie Stevens in Keely and Du, Luisa Sermol in Sideman, or Victor Mack in Ma Rainey's Black Bottom. You don't think of Tony Sonera in Fortinbras. But did I have a memorable moment. This will be the last time I ever tell this story.
Remember how I told you that I often stopped by Allen's office unannounced? Well I was still doing this in 1995. It was late fall of 1995 and I happened by his office to see what was up. He said he was casting a show by Lee Blessing called Fortinbras. He said he almost had the whole thing cast except for a few small roles. I asked him if there was a role for me. He told me what was left and told me to go read the play and come back and let him know if I was interested in one of the roles. I did exactly that. I told him that I would like to play the role of the Captain. He said that was great and that it was mine to have. It was a small role, how much could I actually screw it up? The cast was tremendous. Don Alder as Fortinbras, Duffy Epstein as Osric, Michael Fisher-Welsh as Hamlet, Gary Powell as Claudias, Grant Byington as Horatio, Tom Lasswell as Polonius, Karen Boettcher Tate as Gertrude, Sarah Lucht as Ophelia, Emily Sahler and Janet Fisher-Welsh as the Polish maidens, and the Dickman brothers as Marcellus and Barnardo and I am forgetting who played Laertes. This was a show with some of Portland's funniest actors and myself.
During this period of time I had taken on a "real" job after working as an actor for seven years. I got a job in the hotel business and had been working my way up the ranks and was in a position to be a GM very soon. This meant that I basically did anything and everything the company asked me to do. I was always burning the candle at both ends and sometimes in the middle. It was a great management company and I learned a lot of business skills during my time with them. But somewhere in the middle of the run of Fortinbras they asked me to help open a brand new property in Seaside, Oregon. They had about three weeks of work to do before they could open.
My schedule was grueling. I would wake up everyday at 5am and make it to Seaside by 7am. I would work all day doing physical labor at the hotel until 5pm and then I would drive home. On show nights I would drive straight to the theatre. I would get dressed in my tights, shirt, and cape and then usually shoot the shit with Duffy or listen to Grant kvetch about something. We all made a lot of jokes backstage and really enjoyed each others company. It was one of those shows where you really looked forward to seeing each other every night. It was also a very funny production. My role was very small. I had a great moment where I walked in with what looked like a bloody head in a burlap bag, but was actually a watermelon being delivered to Fortinbras. I had another moment where I was admiring the fact that we had hung Osric, and Horatio played by Grant would disapprove...it was always kind of disastrous when the dummy that was hanging would fall, because it was just a pair of legs. Grant would always kind of freak out when this happened. In the second act I didn't do much but deliver some news to Fortibras about an explosion. The exact line was "My lord there has been an explosion in the queens quarters." I think that is the line...feel free to look it up. This would be the line that would haunt me, and become the legendary story of my career.
Each night of the show after I was through with my duties in the first act I would cuddle up with my cape on the couch and take a cat nap in the green room until the end of intermission. Emily and Janet who were playing polish ladies in waiting would always wake me up before the second act started. This was a regular routine. On one particular night, I happened to be a little more exhausted than usual, but stuck to my regular routine. At the end of my last scene in the first act I headed for the golden couch in the green room, I took off my cape, laid down, covered myself with the cape for my mid show nap. This nap was to be very different. My body was on complete shut down. I actually entered the deep sleep and R.E.M. stage of sleep. I was OUT for the count.
Here is what I remember. I was asleep. The next thing I knew, Tom Laswell had me by the shirt and had pulled me up off the couch and was shaking me. Tom was about 70 years old, had a heart condition from the three heart attacks he experienced, and he took nitro glycerin regularly to keep the old ticker in check. Yet, there he was lifting me and shaking me yelling "Tony wake up! wake up!!! It's your cue!!!" I think I may have smiled at him thinking it was all a dream. Then I noticed Janet and Emily pointing at the green room door and yelling "GO GO GO GO!!!!!" I was still a little perplexed until the stage manager with head set on came running through the door screaming at me "GO!!! YOU ARE ON!!!! GO NOW!!!!. At this point I knew something was wrong...shit...I had missed my cue...and I was still half asleep. In the mean time Don Alder who was on stage had been waiting for me, for about a minute, which in theatre time may as well have been an hour. Though he did get to say..."Captain? Oh Captain my captain?" Don is a funny actor and person so he managed quite well with out me for the minute.
When I finally realized that I needed to go make an entrance...maybe it was because all of the people screaming at me to go...I grabbed my cape and went running out the door and through the main entrance into the theatre and I stopped in the middle of the vomitorium to put on my cape. There was audience on both sides of me, I saw them and they were all looking at me, all I knew was to put on my cape. I flung the cape over my head, and proceed to get wrapped up in it, so then I began flailing and fighting with the cape until finally it gave in and I was able to tie it around my neck! The audience was laughing, this was a good sign. I had never entered from this entrance before, so it was foreign to me. The next thing that happened I will never forget. I looked at Don Alder, and recognized him. But I had NO IDEA what play I was in. I stood there frozen, panicked, trying to wake up, going through the files of shows in my mind, Bye Bye Birdie, The Music Man, Grease...WAIT this is not a musical...Don Alder...what play had I done with him?!!! Now, when you talk with Don, he always says that he could tell that I was out of it by the wobbling and the fact that my eyes were rolling into the back of my head. But Don is a trouper, he is supportive, and professional, and giving as an actor. He knew exactly what to do. He said, "Captain, so nice of you to join us!" I stood staring blankly back at him, still trying to figure out which play I was in. He then tried to save me by feeding me my line..."So, Captain, I heard there was an explosion in the Queens quarters." It was at that moment that all of my training in improvisation came surging at once, it did not matter that I had no idea what play I was in, it did not matter that my brain was frozen, I used all my improvisational skill and genius and said, "uh huh." Don shook his head in disbelief and fed me my next line and probably the line after that. Eventually I realized which play I was in, and ended the scene on my hands and knees as I crawled out the upstage exit.
What I remember is that when I finally remembered what play I was in, I was horrified. I was a serious young actor who had never missed an entrance and these were some of the best actors in Portland. I though I would never work again. But, these actors were also understanding and gracious. On his exit after the scene, Don poked his head in the dressing room and put his hand on my shoulder and smiled and said "Don't sweat it." There were lots of fun little digs, as there should have been. Actors like to remind each other of their mistakes, and in my case epic mistake. The next night in the dressing room as I was getting ready, Duffy entered with a small paper sack. He said, "hey Ton, how you feelin? Got you a little present." he threw the bag at me, and I opened it. It was a box of No Doze. I still have that box to this day.
So that is it, the classic true actors nightmare. What does this have to do with thoughtful consideration? It gave me an understanding that sometimes people make mistakes, even really big mistakes, and not to sweat it, but maybe instead laugh at it, and learn from it, cause later on in life it will make a great story.
Friday, July 13, 2012
Wednesday, July 11, 2012
A Directing Mentor...Allen Nause
I have been sharing a lot of personal history on this blog so far. I believe that history is important to understand where we have come from and how we have arrived to where we are now. I truly am the sum of my experience. I promise that in future blogs I will actually share the nuts and bolts of Thoughtful Consideration but for now I would like to share the road map as to how I arrived at the process.
The Mentor: After directing Cuentos at The Miracle Theatre I realized that I needed to know more about how this directing stuff really worked. I had been a stage manager for both Stan Foote and Allen Nause at Artists Repertory Theatre and it was really my home theatre at that point in my career. So in the summer of 1992, I stopped by Allen's office unannounced as I usually did with my air of self importance and entitlement and told Allen that I should be his assistant director for Tooth of Crime. Remember, I was young, dumb, ambitious, and kind of fearless.
Side Note: It is important to note that when I was about 22 years old Allen had just become artistic director of ART, and he closed down the children's theatre program and kind of cleaned house a little. A couple of my friends never worked at ART again. This was MY home theatre. I had claimed it, though I had only worked on four productions in two years. With attitude in one hand and my picture and resume in another I marched into his little office at the YWCA one day and stood in front of his desk and said " I want to audition for you." to which he replied "um, ok. When would you like to do that?" "Right now." I said. He looked a little surprised at first, and then smiled, and then said "OK! Lets go to the theatre!" and darted out from behind his desk with that hurried shuffle walk he has and led me to the theatre. He later told me that he loved my boldness and enthusiasm and always remembers that day. I performed two monologues for him. He gave me great feedback, and told me to let him know if there was anything in the season that I was interested in. He also told me to keep him informed of what I was doing or working on. He was probably going to regret saying those words later on. I called him or stopped by his office at least once a month for a year. That persistence paid off. My work with Allen Nause is as varied as the rest of my career. I first stage managed for him, then assistant directed, then acted, then was the production manager along side him for four years, and directed Topdog/Underdog for him, and stage managed him in Drawer Boy with William and Patrick. He is a true man of the theatre, he LOVES IT, and I am proud to call him a colleague and friend who has supported me in great times and in challenging times in my life. Today, I don't just stop by, because I am thoughtful and considerate. Instead, we schedule coffee together and talk shop, and life.
Back to the Mentor: Allen thought that being his assistant director would be a great experience. He was jazzed about this production because he had cast local rock n roll star Dan Reed to play Crow and to write the music for this production and cast power house actor Louis Lotorto to play Hoss. He was still casting the rest of the show and enlisted me to help, or I enlisted myself. I remember when we were looking at women in town to play Becky Lou and it seemed like every woman in Portland theatre had come out to audition, except one...Marilyn Stacey. Now, I barely knew Marilyn at the time, but had seen her in Quilters and The Fox at ART, and she was undoubtedly my very first crush in Portland theatre. I asked Allen why he had not called her to audition and he said something about he had offered her roles before and she accepted and then changed her mind. Apparently this had happened a couple of times. I told him I thought she would be perfect for the show and that he should see her. He "hmmmd" and "hawwwwed" and finally I convinced him to let me call her and see if she was interested. When I talked to Marilyn she had a different story all together about what had happened in the past. Directors and actors always have different versions of the same story, always! Anyway, she really wanted to audition, I told her the only way she could come to the callback was that she had to promise if she was offered the role she would accept it and not bail. She agreed to that. Marilyn was the final actress to audition at the callback. She had prepared. She nailed it, not just nailed it, but bolted it to the wall and kicked it's ass. She was fearless in that audition. She won a Drammy Award for her performance in that show, and gave me a bottle of champagne to thank me for getting her the audition. But, I digress.
I remember the casting process was relatively short and fast for Allen. He is known to take his time casting a project, which is something else I have stolen from him. Tooth of Crime though he cast relatively quickly. We had seen a lot of people and then after the last of the auditions he looked at me and said "Let's go cast this." We walked down to Hamburger Mary's and sat in a booth. We ate soup. Allen is a vegetarian and has been one long before being one was ever in fashion. Besides soup is casting food. We went through each and every actor and talked about their strengths and what they would bring to the characters and the production.We agreed on everything. He asked me to make the calls to the actors we did not cast. He told me how to thank them and be gracious for coming out and encouraging them to audition in the future. He believed that every actor should be called and thanked. I believe that too.
It was a great cast of folks. My buddy Jake Elsas as Starman, Randy Patterson as Galactic Jack and the Referee, Gene Hughes as Cheyenne, and Hank Cartwright as Doc. Renee King was our awesome stage manager. We rehearsed in North Portland in some weird warehouse that was dusty and rustic. Allen LOVED this place. He loved this cast. This was ART's big venture into the Winningstad at the Portland Center for the Performing Arts. This show was a big deal for ART. Allen was like a kid, his enthusiasm for the music, and that weird Shepard language. It is one of the things I loved about watching Allen in the room, his enthusiasm for the work. He had been the same in Sharon and Billy. He was his own dramaturg. He was his own sound person. He fully bathed himself in the essence of the play. It was infectious. He knew how to create excitement in a room...it started with him becoming excited!
As the assistant director I didn't do much. I sat and watched Allen work with the actors. Now I understand that sitting and watching IS EVERYTHING when you are an assistant director. Allen was great with me though, every night after rehearsal he would ask me what I thought, and I usually had some notes. He would always listen, and nod, and occasionally say "good". As I watched him work with actors, I noticed that when he stopped them he would always say "good...good". It was simple praise, letting them know he understands that they are working hard. It is the check in if you will. I thought there was a sort of genius in the "good...good" approach. So different from my Ton Wan..."NO". It was gentle and positive. I completely stole it, and now use it today as my very own...which is..."good, good, good". ALL GREAT DIRECTING PRACTICES ARE STOLEN.
Around the same time as this I was reading William Ball's book A Sense of Direction: Some Observations on the Art of Directing. Which is a MUST read by the way if you are a director or ever thinking of directing. In the book he mentions something about the actual proximity that a director uses when giving a note. How he gives a a simple note from behind the table, and a more important note half way between the table and the actor and a really important note was given up close and personal, sometimes with a hand on the shoulder. I observed Allen use these exact techniques. Allen was exceptional at talking to the actors. He made them comfortable, provided a room for exploration, had clear vision, and always listened to their ideas and concerns. This was good stuff.
During the rehearsal period Allen and I got to know each other a little better and he shared some great advice. He told me, "You are what you tell people you are. If you want to be a director, you tell people that you are a director." He said, "That is how I got this job. I told the board I was a director. But truth be told I was an actor in Seattle. Everyone in Seattle thinks of me as an actor. So when I came here to interview for the job I convinced them I was a director." He also told me never to read reviews. I still struggle with this one, and try to wait until after the show closes. But my favorite thing he told me was "It's all bullshit!" I am still not exactly sure what this means to this day, but I have an idea. I think it is about not taking yourself too seriously, not getting wrapped up in reviews, and Drammy Awards (which Allen always thought were marketing awards), or the behind the scenes drama that goes on in the theatre. Allen use to like to say "Tony, it's all Bullshit!" and then smile and laugh.
Towards the end of tech dress rehearsals for Tooth of Crime we were in the Winningstad, it was crunch time and Allen had not staged the "doowap" number with the four guys. He turned to me and said, "Can you stage this for me tomorrow while I work on other things? It is a simple doowap kind of choreographed dance with the song. Can you do that?" I said, "YES! Can I bring in my own choreographer?" Allen said, "Sure as long as it doesn't cost anything." So, I called Linda Brown. Linda came in and choreographed the number for me, and I staged it, and all went well. Allen really liked it. Later on that same week, I shared a note with Allen about something that Marilyn and Louis were trying to work out. During notes, he said the following..."Oh Tony had a great idea for that one moment and I agree..." and he shared the idea. He did not have to do that, but he did. They used the note and the moment was better. He was selfless. He was concerned about the needs of the play and how to serve those needs even if the inspiration came from his assistant director. What an amazing lesson I learned in that moment. That is Allen in a nutshell, selfless, and serving the needs of his theatre.
A few days before opening we were sitting in the theatre watching a run through and there was this moment with Gene as Cheyenne that he wasn't quite getting and Allen had given him the same note several times and even tried the note in a different way. I asked him what he was going to do about it. He said, "Sometimes you just have to let the actor work it out." He said his mistake was giving the wrong direction at first, and that he had confused the actor, and that it was now the time to back off and let the actor work it out. He also said, "Directing is not a perfect art, we make mistakes too." Another lesson learned. I did not have to be perfect. The show opened fall of 1992 at the Winningstad, and it was awesome, and theatrical, and edgy, and badass!
Throughout the years Allen has shared so much about directing. I think the idea that resonates with me the most is that good directing you cannot see, it is invisible. The play is seamless. Yes you have to block, that is not directing, and yes you can have composition and lots of pretty pictures and devices, that is not directing, well it is a very small part of directing. Directing is the breath of the play or the heartbeat of the play. It is where the truth lives.
Final Thoughts about Allen: Allen Nause changed the playing field in Portland theatre...PERIOD! He built upon the previous artistic legacy by continuing to introduce new, risky, edgy, dynamic, challenging, work to ART and Portland audiences. He raised the directorial bar. He resuscitated a small, financially barely breathing theatre and grew it into the second largest theatre in Portland, and a Nationally and Internationally recognized company. He stuck with it for 25 years. I hope next year when he retires he is able to enjoy travel with his wife Fran, gets to act a little more, gets to play his guitar more (he is an incredible guitar player by the way) and will continue to have coffee with me on a much more frequent basis, maybe even graduate to lunch or dinner! Thanks Allen, for being a directing mentor, colleague, and friend these last 25 years.
A blog P.S.
Yes, I do a great impersonation of Allen giving a note to Hank Cartwright and Hank responding and then Allen responding. Allen has seen it and I think Hank has too. Ask me sometime and I will do it. I do it out of admiration and love.
Next Post: Lessons Provided by an Actor and a Designer.
The Mentor: After directing Cuentos at The Miracle Theatre I realized that I needed to know more about how this directing stuff really worked. I had been a stage manager for both Stan Foote and Allen Nause at Artists Repertory Theatre and it was really my home theatre at that point in my career. So in the summer of 1992, I stopped by Allen's office unannounced as I usually did with my air of self importance and entitlement and told Allen that I should be his assistant director for Tooth of Crime. Remember, I was young, dumb, ambitious, and kind of fearless.
Side Note: It is important to note that when I was about 22 years old Allen had just become artistic director of ART, and he closed down the children's theatre program and kind of cleaned house a little. A couple of my friends never worked at ART again. This was MY home theatre. I had claimed it, though I had only worked on four productions in two years. With attitude in one hand and my picture and resume in another I marched into his little office at the YWCA one day and stood in front of his desk and said " I want to audition for you." to which he replied "um, ok. When would you like to do that?" "Right now." I said. He looked a little surprised at first, and then smiled, and then said "OK! Lets go to the theatre!" and darted out from behind his desk with that hurried shuffle walk he has and led me to the theatre. He later told me that he loved my boldness and enthusiasm and always remembers that day. I performed two monologues for him. He gave me great feedback, and told me to let him know if there was anything in the season that I was interested in. He also told me to keep him informed of what I was doing or working on. He was probably going to regret saying those words later on. I called him or stopped by his office at least once a month for a year. That persistence paid off. My work with Allen Nause is as varied as the rest of my career. I first stage managed for him, then assistant directed, then acted, then was the production manager along side him for four years, and directed Topdog/Underdog for him, and stage managed him in Drawer Boy with William and Patrick. He is a true man of the theatre, he LOVES IT, and I am proud to call him a colleague and friend who has supported me in great times and in challenging times in my life. Today, I don't just stop by, because I am thoughtful and considerate. Instead, we schedule coffee together and talk shop, and life.
Back to the Mentor: Allen thought that being his assistant director would be a great experience. He was jazzed about this production because he had cast local rock n roll star Dan Reed to play Crow and to write the music for this production and cast power house actor Louis Lotorto to play Hoss. He was still casting the rest of the show and enlisted me to help, or I enlisted myself. I remember when we were looking at women in town to play Becky Lou and it seemed like every woman in Portland theatre had come out to audition, except one...Marilyn Stacey. Now, I barely knew Marilyn at the time, but had seen her in Quilters and The Fox at ART, and she was undoubtedly my very first crush in Portland theatre. I asked Allen why he had not called her to audition and he said something about he had offered her roles before and she accepted and then changed her mind. Apparently this had happened a couple of times. I told him I thought she would be perfect for the show and that he should see her. He "hmmmd" and "hawwwwed" and finally I convinced him to let me call her and see if she was interested. When I talked to Marilyn she had a different story all together about what had happened in the past. Directors and actors always have different versions of the same story, always! Anyway, she really wanted to audition, I told her the only way she could come to the callback was that she had to promise if she was offered the role she would accept it and not bail. She agreed to that. Marilyn was the final actress to audition at the callback. She had prepared. She nailed it, not just nailed it, but bolted it to the wall and kicked it's ass. She was fearless in that audition. She won a Drammy Award for her performance in that show, and gave me a bottle of champagne to thank me for getting her the audition. But, I digress.I remember the casting process was relatively short and fast for Allen. He is known to take his time casting a project, which is something else I have stolen from him. Tooth of Crime though he cast relatively quickly. We had seen a lot of people and then after the last of the auditions he looked at me and said "Let's go cast this." We walked down to Hamburger Mary's and sat in a booth. We ate soup. Allen is a vegetarian and has been one long before being one was ever in fashion. Besides soup is casting food. We went through each and every actor and talked about their strengths and what they would bring to the characters and the production.We agreed on everything. He asked me to make the calls to the actors we did not cast. He told me how to thank them and be gracious for coming out and encouraging them to audition in the future. He believed that every actor should be called and thanked. I believe that too.
It was a great cast of folks. My buddy Jake Elsas as Starman, Randy Patterson as Galactic Jack and the Referee, Gene Hughes as Cheyenne, and Hank Cartwright as Doc. Renee King was our awesome stage manager. We rehearsed in North Portland in some weird warehouse that was dusty and rustic. Allen LOVED this place. He loved this cast. This was ART's big venture into the Winningstad at the Portland Center for the Performing Arts. This show was a big deal for ART. Allen was like a kid, his enthusiasm for the music, and that weird Shepard language. It is one of the things I loved about watching Allen in the room, his enthusiasm for the work. He had been the same in Sharon and Billy. He was his own dramaturg. He was his own sound person. He fully bathed himself in the essence of the play. It was infectious. He knew how to create excitement in a room...it started with him becoming excited!
Around the same time as this I was reading William Ball's book A Sense of Direction: Some Observations on the Art of Directing. Which is a MUST read by the way if you are a director or ever thinking of directing. In the book he mentions something about the actual proximity that a director uses when giving a note. How he gives a a simple note from behind the table, and a more important note half way between the table and the actor and a really important note was given up close and personal, sometimes with a hand on the shoulder. I observed Allen use these exact techniques. Allen was exceptional at talking to the actors. He made them comfortable, provided a room for exploration, had clear vision, and always listened to their ideas and concerns. This was good stuff.
During the rehearsal period Allen and I got to know each other a little better and he shared some great advice. He told me, "You are what you tell people you are. If you want to be a director, you tell people that you are a director." He said, "That is how I got this job. I told the board I was a director. But truth be told I was an actor in Seattle. Everyone in Seattle thinks of me as an actor. So when I came here to interview for the job I convinced them I was a director." He also told me never to read reviews. I still struggle with this one, and try to wait until after the show closes. But my favorite thing he told me was "It's all bullshit!" I am still not exactly sure what this means to this day, but I have an idea. I think it is about not taking yourself too seriously, not getting wrapped up in reviews, and Drammy Awards (which Allen always thought were marketing awards), or the behind the scenes drama that goes on in the theatre. Allen use to like to say "Tony, it's all Bullshit!" and then smile and laugh. 
A few days before opening we were sitting in the theatre watching a run through and there was this moment with Gene as Cheyenne that he wasn't quite getting and Allen had given him the same note several times and even tried the note in a different way. I asked him what he was going to do about it. He said, "Sometimes you just have to let the actor work it out." He said his mistake was giving the wrong direction at first, and that he had confused the actor, and that it was now the time to back off and let the actor work it out. He also said, "Directing is not a perfect art, we make mistakes too." Another lesson learned. I did not have to be perfect. The show opened fall of 1992 at the Winningstad, and it was awesome, and theatrical, and edgy, and badass!
Throughout the years Allen has shared so much about directing. I think the idea that resonates with me the most is that good directing you cannot see, it is invisible. The play is seamless. Yes you have to block, that is not directing, and yes you can have composition and lots of pretty pictures and devices, that is not directing, well it is a very small part of directing. Directing is the breath of the play or the heartbeat of the play. It is where the truth lives.
Final Thoughts about Allen: Allen Nause changed the playing field in Portland theatre...PERIOD! He built upon the previous artistic legacy by continuing to introduce new, risky, edgy, dynamic, challenging, work to ART and Portland audiences. He raised the directorial bar. He resuscitated a small, financially barely breathing theatre and grew it into the second largest theatre in Portland, and a Nationally and Internationally recognized company. He stuck with it for 25 years. I hope next year when he retires he is able to enjoy travel with his wife Fran, gets to act a little more, gets to play his guitar more (he is an incredible guitar player by the way) and will continue to have coffee with me on a much more frequent basis, maybe even graduate to lunch or dinner! Thanks Allen, for being a directing mentor, colleague, and friend these last 25 years.
A blog P.S.
Yes, I do a great impersonation of Allen giving a note to Hank Cartwright and Hank responding and then Allen responding. Allen has seen it and I think Hank has too. Ask me sometime and I will do it. I do it out of admiration and love.
Next Post: Lessons Provided by an Actor and a Designer.
Tuesday, July 10, 2012
The Young Director or The Dictator
There is something magical about being young in the theatre. I began my career as an actor. I was 19. I had dropped out of conservatory and was determined to have a career no matter what. The very first play I auditioned for was Alice in Wonderland at Artists Repertory Theatre. This is back when ART had a children's program, and was located in the YWCA, and before Allen Nause was the Artistic Director. It was run by Rebecca Daniels and Melinda Pittman. I was cast as the Fish Footman and The Seven of Hearts, mainly for my juggling skills. My director was Pam Harr. I got paid $100. I was ecstatic. From that moment in 1986, I worked steadily as an actor and made my living at it for the next seven years, and I LOVED acting.
During that period of time I discovered a little company called The Miracle Theatre Group. In 1991 I was cast in a play there called Our Lady of the Tortilla. It was a fun little comedy. I really liked the director Jose Gonzalez even though he wasn't a very good director. He and his wife Danielle ran the company and they did everything. I would later go on to become their very first employee and work from the back of their house, but that is a different story. Jose and I got along really well and became friends. He was toying with the idea of making The Miracle a Hispanic theatre company, meaning they would do plays by Hispanic playwrights. I thought that was cool. I wasn't really sure what Hispanic meant at that time. I had never identified as Hispanic. But I liked my new friend and wanted to support him. At the same time I had been getting interested in directing. I had stage managed the long running Pump Boys and Dinette's and Sharon and Billy for ART and was fascinated by the process of directing.
I thought: When you are a director you are in charge. I wanted to be in charge of the outcome of a play. How hard could it be? You just tell everyone what to do and they do it and it comes out just the way you want it. Did I mention that one of the wonderful things about being young and in the theatre is that you are also dumb? I was dumb as they come, or maybe just really eager or both.
So, I went to my friend Jose and asked him if I could direct a play. He asked if I had directed before and I said no, but that I knew I could do it. He said that they were going to do an original Christmas show. They were going to use members of the company (friends) to perform in the show. He was going to write it, it was A Christmas Carol meets It's a Wonderful Life meets the barrio life of a Mexican family. It was called Un Christmas Cuentos and it was the very first play I ever directed in my professional career.
Shortly after Halloween in 1991 we began rehearsals. Now I had been acting for five years at this point and had been a stage manager too. I knew how rehearsals were suppose to be run. It all just felt very different on the other side of the table. Did I mention that I had cast myself in the show too...well Jose wrote a part named Antonio...and I was an actor after all...I mean I can do both! My actors were a mixed bag of some experience and no experience. I would stop them and say..."I want you to move stage right on that line." or " Be angry on that line" or " Don't do it like that" or "I want you to talk faster there." Quite often I would yell "NO!!!" "DO IT AGAIN!!!" "LEARN YOUR LINES!!!" I found that scaring them got them to listen to me. I was aggressive, I was bossy, I was a task master, I was a tyrant, I was a dictator. You know how babies cry and cry until you figure out that they are hungry or wet or tired...well that was me...I yelled and yelled because I did not have the words to communicate to my actors what it was I needed from them in order to serve the play. Luckily, this group of actors were very forgiving.
The world premiere of Un Christmas Cuento opened on December 5, 1991 at the Northwest Service Center presented by The Miracle Theatre Group and directed by yours truly. Rebecca Morris the critic at the Oregonian at the time was VERY KIND. The production was mediocre at best, and the direction was horrible. The story however was a good story and Jose had saved it with his writing. It was a holiday show that warmed people's heart with the right spirit of the season. I had really hoped that I would get reviewed as the next great American theatre director, but my dreams were crushed by my own inexperience and some gentle but honest words from an extremely kind critic who was fond of me as a person and did not want to batter my enthusiasm.
I remember thinking that it could have been better. If I had better actors, a real set, real lights, if it had been in a better space. There were no production values, except for the sound which I had done...which was brilliant! Everything was everyone else's fault! That critic did not know what she was talking about! I will show them all...I WILL DIRECT AGAIN!!! Did I mention that I was dumb? Now being a dumb, eager, younger actor, wanna be director with a huge ego has some benefits. You just don't know shit, and you don't care that you don't know. I went from never directing, with the exception of some stuff in high school, to directing a cast of 10 in an hour long holiday show to my next venture. It was another play written by Jose. This time it was a full length, two act script with music, dance, folklore, and a cast of 24. I thought, no problem. I can do this. I just need to get the best actors I can!!!
In January of 1991 I held auditions for Cuentos by Jose Gonzalez...whose pen name is Martin Milagro. I had some really talented folks in that show, Bunnie Rivera, crazy Jim Cuevas, Monica Rodriguez, Cam Sisco, and my gorgeous and talented wife at the time Rebecca Kimball. For the young directors out there reading this please note that if you are going to cast your wife, and you cast her in a role that she was not expecting, be prepared for the longest car ride home of your life. I will address relationships and directing in a future blog but just needed to get that out there for now. The rest of the cast was really wonderful too, and diverse, dancers, singers, actors who were 14 to 74 years of age. I was excited and nervous. This was a big undertaking. It was at this moment that I made my first real step in collaboration and thoughtful consideration without even knowing that I was doing it. I decided I needed help. I asked my good friend Linda Brown to stage manage for me, and got Tami Castillo Gray to choreograph. I had help. I did not have to do everything myself. I was not acting in the show either. I could focus on the actors. This was great!
I remember sitting at the table for the first read and I turned to Linda and said, "I am a little nervous, can you believe this? All these people think I know what the hell I am doing." She said "You should be nervous. And you better figure out what you are doing." Linda and I had been working together at Kaiser Permanente doing a touring show called Secrets which was about HIV/AIDS. We had performed in front of thousands of high school students. I trusted her immensely, she was also a singer, and choreographer and I would need her opinion on the work. I would like to note that Linda Brown was the very first person in my directing career that I asked for help, and her opinion. I would have never gotten through that show if it had not been for her. I don't think she ever forgave me for talking her into it, but we are still friends to this day.
The rehearsal process was grueling. We had actors missing rehearsal, actors unable to learn lines, playwright re-writes, dance rehearsals without dancers, lots of scheduling conflicts, and a director who had never directed 24 people before. My head was spinning each and every day, I felt like I was constantly treading water just barely able to catch my breath. I was again the shouter, the tyrant, the task master, the dictator.
Side note: Back in high school I directed a show called Wednesday Night Live, which was our version of Saturday Night Live. It was filled with an hour and a half of sketch comedy that my friend Joel Kelly and I had written, and had musical guests, and was a huge success. During the rehearsal period of WNL I was ranting and raving and yelling at my friends who were all doing the show with me, and my friend Cherra yelled back at me.."who do you think you are the Royal Ton Wan?" Now this was back in the day of the Bhagwan Shree Rajneesh who was the leader of a religious cult organization, and his followers called him the Royal Bhagwan. Cherra was telling me something...GET OFF YOUR HIGH HORSE...in so many words. The name Ton Wan stuck through high school by the way, and a couple of those friends still call me that to this day.
But back to Cuentos: I realized that through all of my yelling, and dictator behavior I was becoming Ton Wan again, and that was something I wanted to get away from. I needed to get off the high horse. I did not have the tools, or maybe I did, but didn't know how to use them. I spent the latter half of the rehearsal process really listening, and observing, and remaining calm. I asked Linda her opinion a lot, and asked Tami Gray her opinion a lot. I asked Jose for his opinion. The next thing I knew, the play was taking shape. People were having fun. The story was being told. How did this happen? In the end, I was really proud of everyone involved. It was a good production.
Cuentos opened on April 3, 1992. It was the second play I had directed, and the second world premiere. The critics were kind again. There were some really good performances in it. The story was very interesting and entertaining. The overall staging was okay, the direction was uneven. I was uneven, stuck between being an actor who had an understanding for the craft of acting, and a young (dumb) director whose desire was to try and translate what I knew about acting into directing. I did not have the words, understanding or skill. I knew that the "dictator director" or "Ton Wan" would only go so far. I needed more experience, more knowledge, and guidance. I needed a mentor.
It is worth mentioning that I did go on to act in five and direct thirteen more productions at The Miracle Theatre and have considered it one of my artistic homes for the last twenty-one years.
Next Post: A Mentor and lessons provided by an actor and a designer.
A Blog P.S.
I had some really great directors early in my career as an actor. I would like to acknowledge them.
Stan Foote (who gave me a living, and the best job I ever had, and several memorable Thanksgivings)
Beth Harper (who thought I was funny)
Pam Harr (who gave me my first and second job, taught me to schmooze, and has a bigger laugh than me)
Gary O'Brien (who hired me to do Shakespeare with no experience)
Pat Blem (who was the kindest spirit I ever met)
Thank you all.
I thought: When you are a director you are in charge. I wanted to be in charge of the outcome of a play. How hard could it be? You just tell everyone what to do and they do it and it comes out just the way you want it. Did I mention that one of the wonderful things about being young and in the theatre is that you are also dumb? I was dumb as they come, or maybe just really eager or both.
So, I went to my friend Jose and asked him if I could direct a play. He asked if I had directed before and I said no, but that I knew I could do it. He said that they were going to do an original Christmas show. They were going to use members of the company (friends) to perform in the show. He was going to write it, it was A Christmas Carol meets It's a Wonderful Life meets the barrio life of a Mexican family. It was called Un Christmas Cuentos and it was the very first play I ever directed in my professional career.
Shortly after Halloween in 1991 we began rehearsals. Now I had been acting for five years at this point and had been a stage manager too. I knew how rehearsals were suppose to be run. It all just felt very different on the other side of the table. Did I mention that I had cast myself in the show too...well Jose wrote a part named Antonio...and I was an actor after all...I mean I can do both! My actors were a mixed bag of some experience and no experience. I would stop them and say..."I want you to move stage right on that line." or " Be angry on that line" or " Don't do it like that" or "I want you to talk faster there." Quite often I would yell "NO!!!" "DO IT AGAIN!!!" "LEARN YOUR LINES!!!" I found that scaring them got them to listen to me. I was aggressive, I was bossy, I was a task master, I was a tyrant, I was a dictator. You know how babies cry and cry until you figure out that they are hungry or wet or tired...well that was me...I yelled and yelled because I did not have the words to communicate to my actors what it was I needed from them in order to serve the play. Luckily, this group of actors were very forgiving.
I remember thinking that it could have been better. If I had better actors, a real set, real lights, if it had been in a better space. There were no production values, except for the sound which I had done...which was brilliant! Everything was everyone else's fault! That critic did not know what she was talking about! I will show them all...I WILL DIRECT AGAIN!!! Did I mention that I was dumb? Now being a dumb, eager, younger actor, wanna be director with a huge ego has some benefits. You just don't know shit, and you don't care that you don't know. I went from never directing, with the exception of some stuff in high school, to directing a cast of 10 in an hour long holiday show to my next venture. It was another play written by Jose. This time it was a full length, two act script with music, dance, folklore, and a cast of 24. I thought, no problem. I can do this. I just need to get the best actors I can!!!
In January of 1991 I held auditions for Cuentos by Jose Gonzalez...whose pen name is Martin Milagro. I had some really talented folks in that show, Bunnie Rivera, crazy Jim Cuevas, Monica Rodriguez, Cam Sisco, and my gorgeous and talented wife at the time Rebecca Kimball. For the young directors out there reading this please note that if you are going to cast your wife, and you cast her in a role that she was not expecting, be prepared for the longest car ride home of your life. I will address relationships and directing in a future blog but just needed to get that out there for now. The rest of the cast was really wonderful too, and diverse, dancers, singers, actors who were 14 to 74 years of age. I was excited and nervous. This was a big undertaking. It was at this moment that I made my first real step in collaboration and thoughtful consideration without even knowing that I was doing it. I decided I needed help. I asked my good friend Linda Brown to stage manage for me, and got Tami Castillo Gray to choreograph. I had help. I did not have to do everything myself. I was not acting in the show either. I could focus on the actors. This was great!
I remember sitting at the table for the first read and I turned to Linda and said, "I am a little nervous, can you believe this? All these people think I know what the hell I am doing." She said "You should be nervous. And you better figure out what you are doing." Linda and I had been working together at Kaiser Permanente doing a touring show called Secrets which was about HIV/AIDS. We had performed in front of thousands of high school students. I trusted her immensely, she was also a singer, and choreographer and I would need her opinion on the work. I would like to note that Linda Brown was the very first person in my directing career that I asked for help, and her opinion. I would have never gotten through that show if it had not been for her. I don't think she ever forgave me for talking her into it, but we are still friends to this day.
The rehearsal process was grueling. We had actors missing rehearsal, actors unable to learn lines, playwright re-writes, dance rehearsals without dancers, lots of scheduling conflicts, and a director who had never directed 24 people before. My head was spinning each and every day, I felt like I was constantly treading water just barely able to catch my breath. I was again the shouter, the tyrant, the task master, the dictator.
But back to Cuentos: I realized that through all of my yelling, and dictator behavior I was becoming Ton Wan again, and that was something I wanted to get away from. I needed to get off the high horse. I did not have the tools, or maybe I did, but didn't know how to use them. I spent the latter half of the rehearsal process really listening, and observing, and remaining calm. I asked Linda her opinion a lot, and asked Tami Gray her opinion a lot. I asked Jose for his opinion. The next thing I knew, the play was taking shape. People were having fun. The story was being told. How did this happen? In the end, I was really proud of everyone involved. It was a good production.
Cuentos opened on April 3, 1992. It was the second play I had directed, and the second world premiere. The critics were kind again. There were some really good performances in it. The story was very interesting and entertaining. The overall staging was okay, the direction was uneven. I was uneven, stuck between being an actor who had an understanding for the craft of acting, and a young (dumb) director whose desire was to try and translate what I knew about acting into directing. I did not have the words, understanding or skill. I knew that the "dictator director" or "Ton Wan" would only go so far. I needed more experience, more knowledge, and guidance. I needed a mentor. It is worth mentioning that I did go on to act in five and direct thirteen more productions at The Miracle Theatre and have considered it one of my artistic homes for the last twenty-one years.
Next Post: A Mentor and lessons provided by an actor and a designer.
A Blog P.S.
I had some really great directors early in my career as an actor. I would like to acknowledge them.
Stan Foote (who gave me a living, and the best job I ever had, and several memorable Thanksgivings)
Beth Harper (who thought I was funny)
Pam Harr (who gave me my first and second job, taught me to schmooze, and has a bigger laugh than me)
Gary O'Brien (who hired me to do Shakespeare with no experience)
Pat Blem (who was the kindest spirit I ever met)
Thank you all.
Friday, July 6, 2012
TCG /National Conference in Baltimore/ Sparring with Olympia Dukakis
After my inspirational moment with William in 2004, I spent four years trying to use the idea of thoughtful consideration in my work. It was very hit and miss, and I still wasn't sure I even knew what it was I was looking to do or try. Then in July of 2008 I was awarded a fellowship through TCG (Theatre Communications Group) which is the national service organization for the American theatre. They also publish American Theatre magazine which I am sure many of you are familiar with. The fellowship I received was the Future Leaders in American Theatre fellowship, and it allowed me to be mentored for two years by Jose Gonzalez of the Miracle Theatre. It was a great fellowship and a great experience, and I would encourage anyone out there to check it out and apply for it. I would be glad to tell you more about it.
One of the benefits of the fellowship was that I got to attend the TCG National Theatre Conference. In June of 2009 that conference was in Baltimore, Maryland and was attended by 1000 theatre artists, arts administrators, and vendors. It was an incredible showing and I made some life long friends at that conference. You never know who your gonna meet while drinking at the 6th floor lounge in the dorms of MICA (Maryland Institute of College of Art).
I was very excited to be attending my first conference, and very humbled by the incredibly smart and talented individuals that I met while I was there. Highlights were meeting, Anne Bogart, Teresa Eyring, John Waters, and Olympia Dukakis. It will always remain one of most memorable moments of my career. I encourage every theatre artist to figure out a way to go.
Much of the conference is break out sessions and you have more to choose from than you can possible attend. I was very interested in hearing one of the breakout sessions called Getting Back to the Art:Putting the Artist at the Center. It was being moderated by Jaan Whitehead who was a member of National Council for the American Theatre. The panelists were Mark Masterson, Artistic Director of Actors Theatre of Louisville, Eduardo Machado, Artistic Director of INTAR Theatre, actor Hoon Lee, and Academy Award Winning actress Olympia Dukakis. I have to admit I was a little excited to see Olympia Dukakis.
The session was held in this giant Pavillion and there were about 150-200 people. I was standing toward the back of the room off to the side as I had arrived late, which for those of you who know me know that is very rare. There was a lot of engaging dialogue about playwrights, and actors, and designers, and about how the LORT theatres have killed the rehearsal process, and how the development of new work is rushed in the big theatres, and how LORT theatres have become factories rather than places where art happens.
Then the discussion turned to directors, and Jaan our moderator, posed the question "What is the directors role?" and she asked for popcorn answers. As she pointed to different people around the room I was sure that I would hear something that resonated. But what I heard was "to give direction" "to stage" "to build ensemble" "to lead" "to interpret the script" "to bring vision to the play" and I thought well sure all of those are a part of what a director does, but that is not the "role" of the director. I was beginning to sweat, I could feel myself getting anxious like I do when I have a burning desire to say something, but I was nervous, I mean who the hell was I? Just a guy from Portland who directs every once in awhile. This crowd was filled with Yale graduates, and MFA's, and there was Olympia Dukakis, she had won an Oscar, what had I won? Not a damn thing! I heard the voice in my head screaming at me DON"T DO IT!!! DON'T SAY ANYTHING!!! YOU ARE GOING TO LOOK LIKE AN ASSHOLE!!! It didn't matter the desire to say something was just too strong. So I raised my hand with authority and out of the corner of her eye Jaan saw me and pointed at me and I said "Thoughtful Consideration!" and then she pointed to the next person, and the next, and the next...shit...I must have sounded like an idiot. I could feel the sweat pouring from my brow, my heart pounding, I was sure people could hear my heart pounding. I was frozen, and embarrassed, I thought for sure "thoughtful consideration" would be what everyone was waiting to hear. But she just kept on pointing.
Then, suddenly she stopped, and said "That was great everyone. I would like to pull our attention over here to something I heard that was different. You (she pointed at me) can you explain what you meant by Thoughtful Consideration?" OH SHIT I thought. This is not happening. Why didn't I listen to the screaming voice in my head? Why am I such a dumbass? Think Tony Think!!! And then it was one of those moments when I was glad that I had spent my early career as an actor, and remembered that Pinter pause while my brain scrambled to think and I said..."It is the authentic act in serving the needs of the play by asking "Why?" "What if?" and "How will this best serve the play?" It is careful reasoned thinking, partnered with attentive focused listening, and the ability to weigh the needs of the artist while creating the art." and then I used the William Hurt example except without using his name. Then Jaan the moderator asked the panel if they had any thoughts on what I had just said. Olympia Dukakis shrugged her shoulders and said "Thoughtful Consideration? What kind of soft language is that?! We need to FIGHT in the room, we need to dig!!! It's too soft, those words are too soft!!!"
At this point I am thinking I should leave. Olympia Dukakis just called my idea soft. But no, I am an idiot and I say..."Olympia, I would like to disagree with you for a minute, and challenge you get over the softness of those two words and give yourself permission to embrace them, with the understanding that those two words can lead to the kind of fiery dialogue, or fight if you will, and can inspire that creative shovel in order for you to dig up the truth." She smiled. And then someone else spoke up and echoed something I had said and that I was right. Then another and another. They understood. The Yale grads, and the MFA's and even Olympia Dukakis kinda got it. I of course heard nothing else accept the deafening ringing in my ears of my inner voices. I was really just hoping that no one noticed that I had just called Olympia Dukakis by her first name, verbally sparred with her, and that I was sweaty and shaking.
When the session was over, I waited to say hello to Ms. Dukakis. As I waited I was approached by several people who said "loved what you said" or "thoughtful consideration cool" and on guy David Stradley from Wilmington Delaware asked if I had published. I told him that I had not, and that I wasn't really a writer and that I wouldn't even know where to start. He encouraged me to just start writing it down. My friend Raelle Myrick Hodges who I first met in Baltimore who was in the room when this all happened said to me, I think you might be onto something. Finally, it was my turn to meet Ms. Dukakis. I shook her hand and told her my name was Tony. She asked if I was a director and I told her that I was. She told me that she liked my comments and that she hoped that she got to work with someone who used thoughtful consideration someday, but until then, she was gonna fight! I laughed and thanked her. It was a good feeling. Something I said at the national convention resonated with people.
As I walked through the Hippodrome on the way to the Plenary Session, I saw the giant screen where people had been tweeting live throughout the conference, and there were three different tweets from three different people in big letters that simply said "thoughtful consideration" with one that said after it, "best thing I have heard all conference." I just stared at it. That someone would think that, then share it for everyone to see. It was a blessed moment.
It is now three years since I attended that conference, and introduced the idea of thoughtful consideration to the world. It has been on mind ever since. I am finally going to write about it.
I want to thank David Stradley for being the first to ask if I had published, and to encourage me to write. I want to thank Raelle Myrick Hodges just for being awesome and thinking that I am awesome. I want to thank Olympia Dukakis for sparring with me, thanks to all my friends from the 6th Floor Lounge at MICA, and especially to Sarah Alderman McLellan for being a great friend at the conference and afterward and for always telling me that I am destined for greatness.
I will always remember my first National Theatre Conference because of the people I met there. Baltimore...I love you!
Next Post: The young director or The Dictator
One of the benefits of the fellowship was that I got to attend the TCG National Theatre Conference. In June of 2009 that conference was in Baltimore, Maryland and was attended by 1000 theatre artists, arts administrators, and vendors. It was an incredible showing and I made some life long friends at that conference. You never know who your gonna meet while drinking at the 6th floor lounge in the dorms of MICA (Maryland Institute of College of Art).
I was very excited to be attending my first conference, and very humbled by the incredibly smart and talented individuals that I met while I was there. Highlights were meeting, Anne Bogart, Teresa Eyring, John Waters, and Olympia Dukakis. It will always remain one of most memorable moments of my career. I encourage every theatre artist to figure out a way to go.
Much of the conference is break out sessions and you have more to choose from than you can possible attend. I was very interested in hearing one of the breakout sessions called Getting Back to the Art:Putting the Artist at the Center. It was being moderated by Jaan Whitehead who was a member of National Council for the American Theatre. The panelists were Mark Masterson, Artistic Director of Actors Theatre of Louisville, Eduardo Machado, Artistic Director of INTAR Theatre, actor Hoon Lee, and Academy Award Winning actress Olympia Dukakis. I have to admit I was a little excited to see Olympia Dukakis.
The session was held in this giant Pavillion and there were about 150-200 people. I was standing toward the back of the room off to the side as I had arrived late, which for those of you who know me know that is very rare. There was a lot of engaging dialogue about playwrights, and actors, and designers, and about how the LORT theatres have killed the rehearsal process, and how the development of new work is rushed in the big theatres, and how LORT theatres have become factories rather than places where art happens.
Then the discussion turned to directors, and Jaan our moderator, posed the question "What is the directors role?" and she asked for popcorn answers. As she pointed to different people around the room I was sure that I would hear something that resonated. But what I heard was "to give direction" "to stage" "to build ensemble" "to lead" "to interpret the script" "to bring vision to the play" and I thought well sure all of those are a part of what a director does, but that is not the "role" of the director. I was beginning to sweat, I could feel myself getting anxious like I do when I have a burning desire to say something, but I was nervous, I mean who the hell was I? Just a guy from Portland who directs every once in awhile. This crowd was filled with Yale graduates, and MFA's, and there was Olympia Dukakis, she had won an Oscar, what had I won? Not a damn thing! I heard the voice in my head screaming at me DON"T DO IT!!! DON'T SAY ANYTHING!!! YOU ARE GOING TO LOOK LIKE AN ASSHOLE!!! It didn't matter the desire to say something was just too strong. So I raised my hand with authority and out of the corner of her eye Jaan saw me and pointed at me and I said "Thoughtful Consideration!" and then she pointed to the next person, and the next, and the next...shit...I must have sounded like an idiot. I could feel the sweat pouring from my brow, my heart pounding, I was sure people could hear my heart pounding. I was frozen, and embarrassed, I thought for sure "thoughtful consideration" would be what everyone was waiting to hear. But she just kept on pointing.
Then, suddenly she stopped, and said "That was great everyone. I would like to pull our attention over here to something I heard that was different. You (she pointed at me) can you explain what you meant by Thoughtful Consideration?" OH SHIT I thought. This is not happening. Why didn't I listen to the screaming voice in my head? Why am I such a dumbass? Think Tony Think!!! And then it was one of those moments when I was glad that I had spent my early career as an actor, and remembered that Pinter pause while my brain scrambled to think and I said..."It is the authentic act in serving the needs of the play by asking "Why?" "What if?" and "How will this best serve the play?" It is careful reasoned thinking, partnered with attentive focused listening, and the ability to weigh the needs of the artist while creating the art." and then I used the William Hurt example except without using his name. Then Jaan the moderator asked the panel if they had any thoughts on what I had just said. Olympia Dukakis shrugged her shoulders and said "Thoughtful Consideration? What kind of soft language is that?! We need to FIGHT in the room, we need to dig!!! It's too soft, those words are too soft!!!"
At this point I am thinking I should leave. Olympia Dukakis just called my idea soft. But no, I am an idiot and I say..."Olympia, I would like to disagree with you for a minute, and challenge you get over the softness of those two words and give yourself permission to embrace them, with the understanding that those two words can lead to the kind of fiery dialogue, or fight if you will, and can inspire that creative shovel in order for you to dig up the truth." She smiled. And then someone else spoke up and echoed something I had said and that I was right. Then another and another. They understood. The Yale grads, and the MFA's and even Olympia Dukakis kinda got it. I of course heard nothing else accept the deafening ringing in my ears of my inner voices. I was really just hoping that no one noticed that I had just called Olympia Dukakis by her first name, verbally sparred with her, and that I was sweaty and shaking.
When the session was over, I waited to say hello to Ms. Dukakis. As I waited I was approached by several people who said "loved what you said" or "thoughtful consideration cool" and on guy David Stradley from Wilmington Delaware asked if I had published. I told him that I had not, and that I wasn't really a writer and that I wouldn't even know where to start. He encouraged me to just start writing it down. My friend Raelle Myrick Hodges who I first met in Baltimore who was in the room when this all happened said to me, I think you might be onto something. Finally, it was my turn to meet Ms. Dukakis. I shook her hand and told her my name was Tony. She asked if I was a director and I told her that I was. She told me that she liked my comments and that she hoped that she got to work with someone who used thoughtful consideration someday, but until then, she was gonna fight! I laughed and thanked her. It was a good feeling. Something I said at the national convention resonated with people.
As I walked through the Hippodrome on the way to the Plenary Session, I saw the giant screen where people had been tweeting live throughout the conference, and there were three different tweets from three different people in big letters that simply said "thoughtful consideration" with one that said after it, "best thing I have heard all conference." I just stared at it. That someone would think that, then share it for everyone to see. It was a blessed moment.
It is now three years since I attended that conference, and introduced the idea of thoughtful consideration to the world. It has been on mind ever since. I am finally going to write about it.
I want to thank David Stradley for being the first to ask if I had published, and to encourage me to write. I want to thank Raelle Myrick Hodges just for being awesome and thinking that I am awesome. I want to thank Olympia Dukakis for sparring with me, thanks to all my friends from the 6th Floor Lounge at MICA, and especially to Sarah Alderman McLellan for being a great friend at the conference and afterward and for always telling me that I am destined for greatness.
I will always remember my first National Theatre Conference because of the people I met there. Baltimore...I love you!
Next Post: The young director or The Dictator
Tuesday, July 3, 2012
Thoughtful Consideration, where the idea first bloomed/ My inspirational moment with William Hurt.
The term thoughtful consideration isn't really mine. I stole it, well kind of stole it. The actual words came out of someone else's mouth, and I liked the words and the ideal behind the words. So I use them now as my own, and have given them my own definition in relation to directing and the art of theatre. Let's start with how I got to the term thoughtful consideration.
In February of 2004, I was in rehearsals for The Drawer Boy at Artists Repertory Theatre in Portland. I was the stage manager, and I was also the company production manager. The three actors in the play were Allen Nause who was also the Artistic Director, Patrick Wohlmut, and Academy Award winning actor William Hurt. Now ART runs a little like my old 69 Mustang did, it had a lot of power and drive, but needed a lot of maintenance and love. It is the second largest theatre in Portland but at the time was still a fairly small company with many of us wearing several hats. As the production manager it was my job to make sure that everything went as smoothly as possible. So, we took the USUAL steps...Allen hired a director, I got the designers on board, we cast Patrick, we had design meetings, we had production meetings, we met a lot before the first rehearsal, trying to be super prepared. What we were not really prepared for was William Hurt. He was like rocket fuel, and the old Mustang just worked on regular.
Now, I first want to say that I have nothing but respect for William. He is a tremendously dedicated and talented actor. He is also challenging. It was this "challenging" that changed the way I thought about theatre forever. It was the second or third day of rehearsal and I had taped out the set after a few days of table work. The actors had gotten up on their feet and were learning where everything was on the set. It was essentially a large kitchen with a couple of doors leading to the outdoors and to hallways and then stairways to front yard and barns and so on. There was an area stage right that was particularly confusing, because the stairwell was in an odd location. I was trying to explain the dimensions of the stairwell and the location of it all to the actors when the life changing moment happened. William asked "Why is it like this?" and I said "This is the way it was designed." and he said " I know that. Why?!" I replied "I don't know, I guess we would have to ask the designer." Then he asked me the questions I really didn't expect. "Why weren't we asked to sit in on design meetings?" "Why are we always just left to accept what the designer designs?" "We are the ones who have to work on this set, why can't we have a say in where things are?" Again I replied "I don't know. I guess it is the way it has always been done." At that point he said a couple of expletives and huffed around and said the words that I heard crystal clear, mostly because he had raised his voice, but they still rang true for me..."Why can't we have a little thoughtful consideration for the actor every once in awhile and include us in some decision making!!!" And there it was. He was right. Why didn't we include actors in the design discussions? Why aren't we all asking why? Why do we settle for as it is? Why do we just assume that the stairs are in the right place until we ask why? I know that many directors may ask why, and make decisions based on what they think, but why wouldn't we ask an actor who is playing a character what they think? So in that moment I did the only thing I could do. I brought the director and the actors together and asked what we thought was going to best serve the play in terms of the placement of the stairs. Then I took that conversation to the TD and scenic designer and they agreed and understood and they changed it. Everyone had agreed. It was a small, but true form of collaboration. It was thoughtful consideration. It was a gift to me. From that day forward I decided that I would work toward that kind of collaboration. Now not every artist is involved in every design or production meeting or rehearsal, though I would really enjoy that. Logistically it is a challenge...but one I am working on. What I have found is the ability to stimulate and inspire creativity and at the same time problem solve using thoughtful consideration.
You are probably wondering what thoughtful consideration means to me. It is the authentic act in serving the needs of the play by asking "Why?" "What if?" and "How will this best serve the play?" It is careful reasoned thinking, partnered with attentive focused listening, and the ability to weigh the needs of the artist while creating the art. It is an act of selflessness, of breathing without ego, creating unity, and vibrant, lively, creative dialogue. It is not a way of acting or thinking, thoughtful consideration is a way of being a director...it is the responsibility to the art.
I would like to thank William Hurt. His words were a gift.
Next post: TCG /National Conference in Baltimore/ Sparring with Olympia Dukakis.
In February of 2004, I was in rehearsals for The Drawer Boy at Artists Repertory Theatre in Portland. I was the stage manager, and I was also the company production manager. The three actors in the play were Allen Nause who was also the Artistic Director, Patrick Wohlmut, and Academy Award winning actor William Hurt. Now ART runs a little like my old 69 Mustang did, it had a lot of power and drive, but needed a lot of maintenance and love. It is the second largest theatre in Portland but at the time was still a fairly small company with many of us wearing several hats. As the production manager it was my job to make sure that everything went as smoothly as possible. So, we took the USUAL steps...Allen hired a director, I got the designers on board, we cast Patrick, we had design meetings, we had production meetings, we met a lot before the first rehearsal, trying to be super prepared. What we were not really prepared for was William Hurt. He was like rocket fuel, and the old Mustang just worked on regular.
Now, I first want to say that I have nothing but respect for William. He is a tremendously dedicated and talented actor. He is also challenging. It was this "challenging" that changed the way I thought about theatre forever. It was the second or third day of rehearsal and I had taped out the set after a few days of table work. The actors had gotten up on their feet and were learning where everything was on the set. It was essentially a large kitchen with a couple of doors leading to the outdoors and to hallways and then stairways to front yard and barns and so on. There was an area stage right that was particularly confusing, because the stairwell was in an odd location. I was trying to explain the dimensions of the stairwell and the location of it all to the actors when the life changing moment happened. William asked "Why is it like this?" and I said "This is the way it was designed." and he said " I know that. Why?!" I replied "I don't know, I guess we would have to ask the designer." Then he asked me the questions I really didn't expect. "Why weren't we asked to sit in on design meetings?" "Why are we always just left to accept what the designer designs?" "We are the ones who have to work on this set, why can't we have a say in where things are?" Again I replied "I don't know. I guess it is the way it has always been done." At that point he said a couple of expletives and huffed around and said the words that I heard crystal clear, mostly because he had raised his voice, but they still rang true for me..."Why can't we have a little thoughtful consideration for the actor every once in awhile and include us in some decision making!!!" And there it was. He was right. Why didn't we include actors in the design discussions? Why aren't we all asking why? Why do we settle for as it is? Why do we just assume that the stairs are in the right place until we ask why? I know that many directors may ask why, and make decisions based on what they think, but why wouldn't we ask an actor who is playing a character what they think? So in that moment I did the only thing I could do. I brought the director and the actors together and asked what we thought was going to best serve the play in terms of the placement of the stairs. Then I took that conversation to the TD and scenic designer and they agreed and understood and they changed it. Everyone had agreed. It was a small, but true form of collaboration. It was thoughtful consideration. It was a gift to me. From that day forward I decided that I would work toward that kind of collaboration. Now not every artist is involved in every design or production meeting or rehearsal, though I would really enjoy that. Logistically it is a challenge...but one I am working on. What I have found is the ability to stimulate and inspire creativity and at the same time problem solve using thoughtful consideration.
You are probably wondering what thoughtful consideration means to me. It is the authentic act in serving the needs of the play by asking "Why?" "What if?" and "How will this best serve the play?" It is careful reasoned thinking, partnered with attentive focused listening, and the ability to weigh the needs of the artist while creating the art. It is an act of selflessness, of breathing without ego, creating unity, and vibrant, lively, creative dialogue. It is not a way of acting or thinking, thoughtful consideration is a way of being a director...it is the responsibility to the art.
I would like to thank William Hurt. His words were a gift.
Next post: TCG /National Conference in Baltimore/ Sparring with Olympia Dukakis.
Monday, July 2, 2012
A New Journey
Hello and thank you for taking the time to read my blog. This is a new journey for me, my very first post and I hope you will find it interesting, informative, and entertaining. Thoughtful Consideration...A Directors Process is a journal of my process of directing. It is meant to be shared. It is also just the way I do things. It is not meant as a way for everyone else to do things. I would like to preface a few things. I do not have a degree from Yale, or any other university. I do not have my MFA, or my BA in directing or theatre arts. This is not an academic journal. I studied acting many years ago at The American Academy of Dramatic Arts, and did not complete the program. That being said I do have 26 years of experience in theatre as an actor, stage manager, production manager, artistic director, teacher, coach, advocate, and 21 years of directing experience. So my process is the sum of my experience and is always growing and changing.
Why am I writing this blog? Honestly, I have a few friends (Victor Mack, Val Stevens, Sarah McLellan, Raelle Myrick Hodges, David Stradley) and a couple of strangers over the last few years who have worked with me or heard me speak and they challenged me to write this. They thought I had something to say, and I decided that I do have something to say about directing, theatre, and thoughtful consideration. I decided that I needed to put in writing the chaos that tangos inside my head, the tornado of thoughts, the flood of ideas, the tectonic shifts where metaphor wrestles with surrealism to create theatrical truth. I decided that a journal documenting my process would do me some good, and maybe, just maybe, someone else my get some good out of it too.
So, welcome to Thoughtful Consideration...A Directors Process. I look forward to sharing with you my process as a director and how I got to that process. This is a new journey for me, and I appreciate the company.
Next post...Thoughtful Consideration, where the idea first bloomed or my inspirational moment with William Hurt.
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