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.