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From the Editor

From the Editor

theater catalyst Ben Row hopes to take traditional stagecraft off-grid.

You may already know Ben Row. In fact, there’s a chance you’ve even spat a few four letter words his way, thanks to a recent voice-over gig for a global positioning satellite (GPS) company. “Somewhere, right now, my voice is rendering incomprehensible directions with maddening calm,” he says.

Besides leading drivers on goose chases, the Kennebunk native and Exchange Street resident is a busy guy; fresh from acting escapades on seemingly every stage in the state, he’s starting a new theatrical venture, Oh, the Huge Manatee!, while delighting patrons as a server at The Salt Exchange (where he jokes about presenting Jacques Brel is Alive and Well and Living in Portland) and punching up the visuals of other people’s shows as a theatrical graphic designer. He shares with us his Puck-meets-Romeo improv mashup, how Neil Simon stunts growth, and what a manatee has to do with anything.

You have an insane performance schedule, running shows back-to-back or concurrently. Any war stories about botched lines or blocking because of mentally being in the wrong show?

I was concurrently playing Puck in Midsummer Night’s Dream and workshopping Romeo and Juliet. Puck has a fantastic closing monologue during

Shakes peare Mash up

Midsummer that is pivotal to the show’s resolution. Well, I began the monologue and realized about four lines in that I was not delivering a monologue from Puck, but from Romeo, and I couldn’t for the life of me get myself back on track. I ended up improvising a monologue, in Old English. The show ended on a much darker note than it should have.

You’re busy with many roles, yet you’re starting your own theater company. Why?

I wanted to start a company that will allow younger actors and designers an opportunity to work on shows that aren’t available to them, whether it’s because of age, experience, etc. There’s only so much Neil Simon and Rodgers & Hammerstein performers can work on before they stop growing from it. We want to focus on small-cast dramas, obscure pieces, and most importantly–new, local works. We also hope to give back to the community by donating ten percent of our profits to local charities.

Wouldn’t it be easier to take your ideas to established theaters?

I have, and I’ve asked board members why it’s the same shows every year. I’ve proposed edgier ideas, like a Chuck Palahniuk [author of Fight Club] work. It’s always the same: “No.”

Do you think there’s some kind of conspiracy against young talent and fresh ideas in Portland?

No. It’s about marketability. Many of these board members–as great as they are for volunteering their time and efforts–don’t have a theater background, so they aren’t familiar with anything beyond cotton-candy productions of Shakespeare and West Side Story. Many also don’t have a clue how to properly market shows. So you ask them to put on a show they’ve never heard of, and they freak. People are scared to branch out of what they know because they’re afraid they won’t have the answers when the questions come.

Being a board member should be about more than eating blinis and sipping wine at fancy benefits. Some of these members don’t even bother to attend the shows…there needs to be some idea on their part about the actual work and art that goes into a show.

Do you think not enough credit is given to Portland audiences, that there’s a feeling we “can’t handle” anything outside of the mainstream?

Yes. This is a very intellectual community, and there’s little to no acceptance of that [by the theater boards]. There’s a loyal theater audi-

Shakes peare Mash up

ence here; those aren’t the people I’m concerned with. I’m after the community of people who would go to see theater but don’t, because there’s little that’s new or challenging being offered.

So with your new company, you’re identifying a demand that’s not being served?

Absolutely.

Regarding the other regional theaters...How difficult is it to now become the competition?

I don’t believe in competitive art. The idea of it defies what art is.

Now, what’s with the name?

[laughs] The ridiculous is memorable. “Oh, the Huge Manatee!” is a ridiculous title. But how much more likely are you to remember this than a name that has anything to do with what we’re doing? Try it out. Next time you’re in the car or the shower, yell “Oh, the Huge Manatee!” in the most dramatic way possible. Think soap opera. Trust me, you’ll understand.

Having performed along the East Coast, have you seen any unique attitudes toward your being a Mainer?

As long as you don’t give anyone a reason to think you’re terrible–as in, “Oh, no wonder, he’s from Maine”–it doesn’t matter where you’re from once you’re onstage.

So, you can go home again?

We want a foothold in the community that birthed us into this profession.

Speaking of going home…have you heard your voice on a GPS yet?

No, but if I did, I’d laugh hysterically and shut it off. I’ll take my chances with my own sense of direction. n

>>Tell us what edgy, challenging, breakthrough plays you’d

like to see performed: theater@portlandmonthly.com.

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