A lesson by the actor and the designer

In April of 1999 I directed a play at the Miracle called Burning Patience. It was a beautiful story about a relationship between a postman and a poet, Pablo Neruda. It was originally a book written by Antonio Skarmeta, and then a play and then a movie, Il Postino. It was filled with poetry, romance, and political undertones. Burning Patience would be the seventh play I would direct. However, the level of actors and designers I was working with was beginning to grow.  I had put together a good cast with Megan Harris, Kam Sisco, Jean Miller, and Russ Fast. My design team was Paul Brown who designed the set, Kris Vercouteren designed costumes, Rodolfo Ortega designed sound, and Don Crossley designed lights, and I had the best stage manager in town, Carol Ann Smith.

Now I had know about Russ Fast from years earlier when I saw him perform in One Flew Over the Cuckoos Nest. He was terrific. He just happened to be waiting tables at the Rose and Raindrop which was across the street from the Miracle, and I use to frequent it for the clam chowder, Those who know me, know I love me some clam chowder, and I am a clam chowder snob. So one day I am eating lunch and I am talking with Russ and asked if he ever thought about doing theatre again. He said it would have to be a very special project. I told him about this play called Burning Patience and told him the story and that it was about the poet Pablo Neruda. In that moment his jaw dropped, and he looked at me with a very serious look, and said "Who told you?" perplexed I said, "Who told me what?" and he said "Who told you that Pablo Neruda was my favorite poet?" he then recited a few lines from a Neruda poem that he knew. My jaw dropped. I got up from the table and told him I would be right back. I sprinted back across the street and made a copy of the script and ran back to the Rose and Raindrop where I handed him the script and said I would be back tomorrow at 3pm when he got off work and we would talk, The next day I arrived promptly at 3pm. He sat down next to me and was very quiet. Then he said, "I take care of my mother and my son. That is why I have stopped doing theatre. I have a complicated schedule. I am also equity." and I said "so does this mean you want to do it?" Russ just smiled and shook his head yes and said "It would be a great honor to play Pablo Neruda. If you can work around my schedule and get me an equity contract I will do it." and I said "Done".  At that time in my career I had no idea how to get an equity contract or even how to approach doing it. Some how, between Jose and myself we found our way to the umbrella contract and Russ Fast was hired to play Pablo Neruda in Burning Patience.

At first it seemed as though the play was plagued with bad luck. Megan was attacked by a stranger at her new home, just a day or two into rehearsal and my 1969 Mustang was stolen from in front of the theatre. Megan bounced back like a trouper and my car was finally found, and it was clean and the thief had left good music in the car. 

At some point during the rehearsal period I was working with Kam and Russ, and in my usual passionate  way I was yelling out directions. Now I had been working hard to leave the dictator director behind and really become more thoughtful. But in this instance I reverted back to my old habits. It was then that Russ said, "Why are you yelling? We are right here." I had no response. I didn't know why I was yelling. I apologized and then just talked to them, trying hard to articulate what it was I wanted. Then Russ asked if they could just play with the scene and explore the possibilities. Well this was a new idea. What? My direction wasn't good enough? But because I was still recovering from being called out on my yelling I said, "yeah sure that sounds like a good idea." Now, I come from a strong improvisation background and so I like exploring and improvising and playing, so this wasn't out of my comfort zone at all. As I watched them play and explore, and when I felt comfortable I would interject, "see what happens if" or "that was interesting can you explore that direction more?" Suddenly, I found myself in a groove, like a basketball player in the zone. We accomplished a huge amount of work in a very short period of time and we all felt really excited about the work. After rehearsal I apologized to Russ again. He said "No worries. Actors...no people generally don't respond well to being yelled at. It is counter productive. Just talk to us. It will serve you well." and that moment changed the way I worked forever. 

As we continued to rehearse I grew more confident in this new way I was directing. I would ask questions, and not provide all of the answers. I would explore with the actors. I was having more fun than I ever had directing. I remember that there was this scene with Kam and Megan and it was sexual in nature and there was an egg and a first kiss that led to a wedding. It is all done without words and was more of a dance or at least it became that. At first I tried to force it to be no more than two minutes long. I had told Rodolfo to just make the music two minutes long and that we would fit the scene to the music. WRONG!!! A scene is never served by trying to fit it to the music, even if the music is gorgeous. Well, this new way of working and exploring extended the music to three minutes, then four, then five and a half, and it finally ended up that the scene was six and a half minutes long...no dialogue, just music. It was beautiful. Myra Donnelley later told me that I had taught her something, that theatre can be powerful without the words. I took that as a compliment. Rodolfo still jokes about that six and a half minute "egg dance" as he calls it, and I remember it fondly as the moment I learned that your job as director is to just serve the story. Again, another pivotal learning moment. 

Somehow in my youth I had inexplicably become an expert in all areas of theatre, though I had only been trained as an actor. I think it is an arrogance that comes with youth and I was young and as arrogant as they come. At times this arrogance served me well when I didn't know what the hell I was doing, and other times it just made me look like an idiot. here is one of those times. 

As we approached tech I had scheduled time with Don Crossley to look at lights. Don is extremely talented and patient and a really nice person. I think I probably tested his patience a lot during that show. We had limited equipment at the Miracle back then and I asked for a lot. What I remember was the learning moment in regards to a sunset. We were at this cue that was going to be a sunset and I of course had in my mind what it should look like exactly. I started to explain to Don what I thought the sunset should look like, and before I could even really get started with my explanation he said "I have actually built something, why don't you take a look at it." I thought...but you don't know what I want...oh great I have to suffer through what he thinks a sunset should be like...and I said "Okay"...filled with doubt. He said it was a cue that happened over two or three minutes, I don't really remember the length of the cue, but I do remember the beauty. It was gorgeous, and powerful, and moving. He had used his skill, heart, talent, passion, and understanding of the moment of the play that he was serving to create a symphony of light that was moving. I was moved by it. It was better than the sunset I had in the movie in my mind. I think I said something trite like...that is perfect...or wow. He then said this. "You know you need to trust your designers, you need to trust that we know what we are doing. Let us show you what we have got, and then if you don't like it talk to us about it. But don't tell us how to design." It was direct. It has stuck with me to this day. Don and I have never worked together again since then. That makes me sad because his designs are wonderful and he is one of the most talented and well respected artists in Portland theatre. He did give me a great lesson in learning to trust your designers. 

Burning Patience will always be special to me, because of the people, and because it is the show that really changed me from the young dictator to the young director. Lessons learned: Just talk, explore, play, serve the moments, and trust your collaborators. Thank you Russ and Don for the great lessons, they have served me well.