Next Iteration Theater

Indeed. I woke up this morning thinking that it is a miracle that the collaboration that is theater actually makes it to the stage—first there is the author, then the director, producers, funders, venues, mangers, designers, set builders, techs, and we haven’t even gotten to actors, costumers, props—this and more before an audience can purchase tickets. And I thought this morning how more challenging this all is in the “gimme now” product-not-process-oriented time and society in which we live. Theater, good theater, life-affecting theater takes time.

I attended a new play recently that had such potential. The playwright had an original idea—one that allowed for many potential areas of investigation, action, and reaction, conflict and resolution or irresolution. The play started out interestingly enough. The characters were intriguing, well acted, well embodied. The tone was set and as audience I found I was willing to play along. I settled back in my seat to see where this new journey would take me. I was a wiling participant. 

But even though the play was on the short side, I found myself drifting, feeling sleepy (something that rarely happens to me at a play). As a director, I often lay blame there. But the direction was adequate. The characters were intriguing, the central idea of the play ripe. What failed for me, honestly was the writing. At the end of the night, I had watched a draft rather than the edited, revised finished piece. The work, even in the shortness of the script, faltered in the middle, became waylaid, unable to move forward.

In rapid succession rationalizations jumped in my mind to the writer’s defense—maybe the author wanted to leave it mired. Maybe the lack of resolution or even movement was the intention. Maybe the characters seemed lost because they were? Maybe...I was working too hard. Making excuses for the author, for the script are a sure sign something is wrong. I was drawn to the idea of the play, the conceptualization of the piece—it wasn’t about liking. 

Thinking about the role of intelligent criticism in the world of the arts, in theater for directors, actors, designers...

The Oxford Cambridge Dictionary defines criticism: 

2.The analysis and judgment of the merits and faults of a literary or artistic work:

I believe that true criticism, not merely negative commentary or empty praise, is required for theater to fully play its role in society. The trained eye, the seasoned viewer, the art of written reflection all work to potentially elevate the experience of any art—and in particular theater—as it challenges our often superficial question, “were we entertained?” by presenting us with an avenue of consideration, or deeper understanding, of engagement. At the same time, well conceived and communicated criticism offers the artists—actors, directors, designers, playwrights—a more accurate mirror to their own artistic purposes and accomplishments.  Did we communicate what we set out to share? What does the audience, the viewer add to our perception?

We are in need of informed “analysis of the merits and faults” of our artistic work. We are in need of our own heads, our minds reflecting on our work, giving us impetus to clarify, hone, elevate.

Often I think about gender, what it is all about, this bi-polar construction that hardly meets the needs of the varied and multi-faceted expressions of our humanity. I have come to believe that gender is a continuum—one that can hardly be defined by biology or enculturation, nature and/or nurture. 

Myself, once a tomboy, maybe still one, fixes cars, likes high heels, cooks, investigates, takes up my own space, demands equality and notice, remains introverted and thoughtful, loves to dance, play hard, wear dresses and suits, and cross boundaries to see the other side. 

I have come to believe in the wide, surprising, delightful and ofttimes playful expression of our anima/animus and the fact, as Jung so clearly delineated, that it exists in everyone. Where do you fit on the continuum? As an actor, how do you engage all of your gender?

And speaking of gender, I am proud to be a “woman”—a child-bearing, complex thinking, empathic human who has the privilege to be counted in this group of directors, as one of the women directors in the database of the 365 Women a Year Project. check it out here.

I love directing. I love working with actors. I love being who I am when I teach, direct, lead a production until I release it fully to a well-prepared and adept cast. This article on Howlround strikes at my heart. As does this quote from Paul Woodruff’s The Necessity of Theatre. It reads,

“There is an art to watching and being watched, and that is one of the few arts on which all human living depends. If we are unwatched, we diminish and we cannot be entirely as we wish to be. If we never stop to watch, we know only how it feels to be us, never how it feels to be another.”

Theater is a unique and powerful art form. Directing actors, co-creating theater makes my heart sing.

- See more at: http://howlround.com/women-directors-language-worth-repeating#sthash.Rb5V37LY.dpuf

I love teaching actors. Even though I often feel the energy drain toward the end of the day, feel the dread of one more thing to do, one more class to teach— five minutes into the class, no, maybe even when the first actor walks through the door, I begin to feel my energy building, coursing through my body, heightening my awareness. 

As a director and acting coach, I have come to love actors, their heart—the art they bring to a script, to a character, to a performance, to the stage, and ultimately, to you. The craft of acting is the act of digging into our own humanity, daring to know ourselves—our secrets, fears, dreads, perfect happinesses, and everything in between. Only when we have gotten proverbially naked with ourselves can we begin to harvest the present-time knowing that is demanded by the stage. 

Catastropic Theater, Jason Nodler, Director

February 2015

I attended opening night of Catastrophic Theater’s production of Mark Schultz’s The Blackest Shore and I am so glad I did. The cohesion of the production—from thecasting, the set design, lights, costumes, sound—clearly grew out of the exquisite script penned by Schultz. With the sparseness and cadence  akin to some of Pinter’s best work—implying, grazing, then veering away— Shultz writes his way into the hearts and psyche of the audience before we are aware of the depth to which he will take us. He guides us through the tenuousness of life, love, identity and loss driving characters that are so familiar they are us.

Jason Nodler, directed a powerful offering in Shultz’s play, starting it off with some of the best scenic projections I have witnessed. The opening images, along with the sound effects create a type of tone poem, eliciting the attention of the audience even before the play begins. The sparse set echoes the sparseness of the subject matter, the rawness of the characters, even the succinctness of the writing. Nodler led his actors through the tense storyline, balancing like tightrope walkers until they dismount, fully exposed. It is a great moment, the stillness of the audience as we become aware of what we now know about these characters, their secrets, maybe our secrets.

The lead actor, Gabriel Regojo, captures the complexity of the character, Stuart, and the subject matter in a thoroughly believable way. He demonstrates an emotional honesty required by Schultz’s script and we believe him. Not an easy feat for such a young actor. The energy between Regojo and his counterpart, Zachery Leonard, from their first uneasy scene to all the others that follow is not only well cast but also well directed and acted. Josh Morrison rings true as the somewhat awkward almost stepfather and his scenes with Regojo are as uncomfortable as real life. John Gremillion's character as the biologic father, keeps us on the precipice of revelation. This is the strongest emotional performance from Gremillion I have seen.