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Tonys Blog
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Written by Tony Adams
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Wednesday, 19 November 2008 12:10 |
That's the advice I was given about five minutes before the curtain of the first show I ever directed. It was in a one-act festival, only instead of a ten-minute play like all the rest that semester, mine ran a swift 75 minutes. I guess I never was very good at going small.
My mom had driven an hour or so, up to see it. It was the first time she had come up that wasn't either helping me move or for a football game. Earlier that night we went to dinner. She stopped about midway though a conversation and stared at me, puzzled.
"Oh my God."
"What," I asked?
"I've just never seen you nervous before."
I was, and a pep talk I got right before the show started has stuck with me to this day. A friend came up, put his arm around my shoulder, handed me a drink and said "Tony, just remember. You're absolutely fucking worthless right now." He was joking of course, but after a brief laugh I stopped for a moment.
It wasn't until then that I realized that no matter how good or bad the show went, there was nothing I could do. Nerves, will power and anything else I had, had to give way to the fact that it was out of my hands. At least until after the show was over.
It's kinda the same feeling knowing Jenn could go into labor at any minute.
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Tonys Blog
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Written by Tony Adams
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Tuesday, 18 November 2008 10:39 |
In the comments to the Content? post, among other great comments:
Paul says:
I agree completely about the impossibility about widespread content discussion on the blogosphere, but I do think there can be more than there is. I love the meta- bloggy talk as much as anyone, but it would be nice if we could also have some more discussion on concrete examples as well -- even if it ends up in the vein of some bastardized online Oprah's Theatre Club bullcrap. It's the sort of thing that our NY and otherwhere friends might not be able to participate in, but it's also the sort of thing that I would hope our NY and otherwhere friends would enjoy doing within their own localities as well. And on a separate note, tarhearted says:
I'd actually go one step further and say that our attachment to dusty old plays is killing the art form. I like the classics as much as the next guy, but it's a little simplistic to say that modern theater is "trivial" in its content. Especially since we never get to, like, see any. How would you respond to either of them?
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Tonys Blog
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Written by Tony Adams
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Monday, 17 November 2008 11:49 |
What seems like a lifetime ago, I was in Paris. Technically, I was still a student and a (sometimes paid) intern. The short answer to why is that I didn't need a green card (okay, they call it a carte de sejour) to do so.
The second production I worked on was a beast. A new play festival with 41 shows in rep over the course of a month. There was also a special night dedicated to "the Austrian Question."( Jorg Haider was very much in the spotlight of European politics that summer.) The sheer logistics of such a festival was staggering.
The folks working on it were very open, and the importance for me as an artist of being a fly on the wall for conversations between some of the heavyweights of Parisian theatre didn't really hit me until years later. Some folks I didn't even realize who they were until well afterwards. Which is probably good, as the 23 year old me would have probably made an ass of myself in front of most of them.
One person in particular fascinated me (and still does to be honest). I was working on something during a lull and a conversation was going on. Now even then, I knew who she was. It was hard not to, when she walked into a room people hushed. Her reputation preceded her.
She asked another person what he was working on.
He replied dismissively, "oh just something, you know? It's a gig, not art, absolutely not art, but a light-hearted farce. . ."
She asked if "it was the most important thing he could be doing?"
"No", he replied
"Well then why are you wasting your time on that fucking nonsense," She asked?
He paused for a minute to think before responding, "I've had a shitty year and I just need to do something fun."
"So, that is the most important thing you could do right now," she said.
He thought for a moment and said, "yes, I guess it is." That conversation makes more and more sense as I've gotten older. Is what I'm working on the most important thing I could do? If not, why am I spending all this time on it? The other side is that sometimes allowing people to laugh is the most important thing that one could do. How can you tell the difference?
Once upon a time I lit a show that was so bad, about a minute into it I leaned over to my then girlfriend, now my wife, and apologized for bringing her. That was a low point. I could make excuses that it was an easy gig that paid, but I knew walking in the room it was going to be an awful show. But, I'll admit, that show shattered my expectations on how bad one show could be.
I talk to people all the time who know how bad the show they are doing is. Sometimes they are honest, sometimes they try to cover--often unconvincingly. Sometimes you can even see it in the actors' faces when they are onstage.
Why would we waste so much of our time, and nowadays time is a very precious commodity, on something that we don't think is even important? We all have. There are those shows we don't put on our resume, we don't tell our friends about. Most of us love what we want to do, but how often do we love what we are actually doing?
Experience has taught me that working on something those involved feel is important is often a major factor on not just how much they enjoy it, but also how good the project turns out to be. Is what you are doing, or about to do, the most important thing you think you could do? Why or why not?
Is that something you consider before starting a project?
In a conversation about the contents of other shows, do we hold ourselves accountable for what we ourselves work on?
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Tonys Blog
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Written by Tony Adams
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Friday, 14 November 2008 11:29 |
Can be found here.
Tonight I ventured out into the cold damp night to catch a glimpse of why Chicago is truly a great, if not the greatest, theater city. On the second floor of the unassuming Albany Park Building, Halcyon Theatre dares to take a shoestring budget and fill a relatively raw space with challenging, relevant and urgent drama. They succeed.
If you question the passion, conviction and talent of emerging theater companies in Chicago, this meager powerhouse is your answer. Don’t go expecting the whistles and bells of a flashy production. This is a bare bones, no frills rendition. Visually sparse yet very effective, the focus is on the core foundation of theater; strong acting and competent direction delivering ambitious writing. Only one week remains, Militant Language closes next Friday the 21st. Hope to see you there.
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Speaking of closing, we're planning strike and realized that it will actually be more expensive for us to rent a truck and keep the platforms we're using, than it will be to just build new ones in the future. I'd rather give them to someone who could use them than toss them in the dumpster.
If anyone's interested in two 4x8 platforms in great condition let me know. Free to a good home. You'd just have to come and get them (once the show closes.) If anyone in the Chicago area is interested in giving these two platforms a good home contact me @ tony AT halcyontheatre DOT org.
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Tonys Blog
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Written by Tony Adams
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Thursday, 13 November 2008 09:18 |
In the comments to my Content? post, Freeman asks:
Has anyone seen anything on stage, content wise, recently, that thrilled them? I'd say Caroline or Change at the Court was up there for me.
What about y'all?
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