SDC Journal Spring 2016 by SDC Journal

JOURNAL SPRING 2016

AN UNCOMMON BOND MOLLY SMITH + SUE WHITE

NARRATIVE IN EVERY STEP

CHRISTOPHER GATTELLI + LOU CASTRO THE SINGULAR VOICE OF TWO COLLABORATORS

CHAY YEW + MARCUS GARDLEY +

MAY ADRALES DAVID HILDER MARLENE THORN TABER SPRING 2016 | SDC JOURNAL

OFFICERS

Susan H. Schulman PRESIDENT

John Rando EXECUTIVE VICE PRESIDENT

Leigh Silverman VICE PRESIDENT

Oz Scott SECRETARY

Michael Wilson TREASURER

EXECUTIVE DIRECTOR

Laura Penn COUNSEL

Ronald H. Shechtman HONORARY ADVISORY COMMITTEE

Karen Azenberg Pamela Berlin Julianne Boyd Danny Daniels Marshall W. Mason Ted Pappas

SDC EXECUTIVE BOARD

SDC JOURNAL

MEMBERS OF BOARD

MANAGING EDITOR

Julie Arenal Christopher Ashley Anne Bogart Jo Bonney Mark Brokaw Joe Calarco Larry Carpenter Rachel Chavkin Marcia Milgrom Dodge Sheldon Epps Liza Gennaro Wendy C. Goldberg Linda Hartzell Anne Kauffman Mark Lamos Paul Lazarus Pam MacKinnon Kathleen Marshall Meredith McDonough Ethan McSweeny Robert Moss Robert O’Hara Sharon Ott Ruben Santiago-Hudson Seret Scott Bartlett Sher Casey Stangl Chay Yew Evan Yionoulis

Marella Martin Koch FEATURES EDITOR

Elizabeth Bennett GRAPHIC DESIGNER

Elizabeth Nelson

SPRING 2016 CONTRIBUTORS

May Adrales DIRECTOR

Andrea J. Anderson TEXAS TECH UNIVERSITY

Mark Bly FREELANCE DRAMATURG + PROFESSOR

Walter Bobbie DIRECTOR

EDITORIAL ADVISORY COMMITTEE

Jo Bonney Sheldon Epps Graciela Daniele Liza Gennaro Thomas Kail Robert O'Hara Ann M. Shanahan Leigh Silverman Evan Yionoulis

Marc Bruni DIRECTOR

Megan Carter DIRECTOR, SDC FOUNDATION

Alanna Coby SDC FOUNDATION PROGRAM ASSOCIATE

Nakissa Etemad DRAMATURG, PRODUCER, DIRECTOR,

INTERN

Laura Barati SDC JOURNAL PEER-REVIEWED SECTION EDITORIAL BOARD SDCJ-PRS CO-EDITORS

Anne Fliotsos Ann M. Shanahan SDCJ-PRS BOOK REVIEW EDITOR

Travis Malone SDCJ-PRS BOOK REVIEW ASSOCIATE

Kathleen M. McGeever SDCJ-PRS SENIOR ADVISORY COMMITTEE

Anne Bogart Joan Herrington James Peck SDCJ-PRS PEER REVIEWERS

Donald Byrd David Callaghan Kathryn Ervin Liza Gennaro Ruth Pe Palileo Scot Reese Stephen A. Schrum

TRANSLATOR

David Hilder DIRECTOR + PLAYWRIGHT

Rebecca King FORMER SDC JOURNAL INTERN

Mimi Lien SET DESIGNER

Mary Jo Lodge ASSOCIATE PROFESSOR OF THEATRE AT LAFAYETTE COLLEGE

Laura Paone ARTS JOURNALIST

Seret Scott DIRECTOR

Marlene Thorn Taber CHOREOGRAPHER/DIRECTOR

SDCJ-PRS ASSISTANT EDITORS + PEER REVIEWERS

Thomas Costello Emily Rollie SDC JOURNAL is published quarterly by Stage Directors and Choreographers Society, located at 321 W. 44th Street, Suite 804, NY, NY 10036. SDC JOURNAL is a registered trademark of SDC. SUBSCRIPTIONS + ADVERTISEMENTS Call 212.391.1070 or visit www.SDCweb.org. Annual SDC Membership dues include a $5 allocation for a 1-year subscription to SDC JOURNAL. Non-Members may purchase an annual subscription for $24 (domestic), $48 (foreign); single copies cost $7 each (domestic), $14 (foreign). Purchase online at www.SDCweb.org. Also available at the Drama Book Shop in NY, NY. POSTMASTER Send address changes to SDC JOURNAL, SDC, 321 W. 44th Street, Suite 804, NY, NY 10036. PRINTED BY Sterling Printing

SDC JOURNAL

| SPRING 2016

SPRING CONTENTS Volume 4 | No. 4

FEATURES 13 The Singular Voice of Two Collaborators INTERVIEW WITH CHAY YEW + MARCUS GARDLEY

BY NAKISSA ETEMAD

COVER

Uncommon Bond

INTERVIEW WITH MOLLY SMITH + SUE WHITE BY

MARK BLY

26 Narrative in Every Step INTERVIEW WITH CHRIS GATTELLI + LOU CASTRO

BY LAURA PAONE

32 PEER-REVIEWED SECTION The Star Director: Exploring the

Dynamics of Musicals When Their Biggest Stars Work Behind the Scenes BY MARY JO LODGE EDITED BY ANNE FLIOTSOS + ANN M. SHANAHAN

SPRING 2016 | SDC JOURNAL

F ROM THE PRESIDENT

BY SUSAN H. SCHULMAN

Interview With Adrian Alea + Andrew Williams: Observers on The Odyssey

FROM THE EXECUTIVE DIRECTOR BY LAURA PENN

IN YOUR WORDS

INTERVIEW BY ALANNA

What I Learned... Marlene Thorn Taber CURATED BY SERET

SCOTT

hy I Cast That Actor W David Hilder

BACKSTAGE

Mimi Lien Set Designer

Vietgone in 20 Questions May Adrales

SDCJ-PRS BOOK REVIEW

Jerzy Grotowski's Journeys to the East By Zbigniew Osinski REVIEW BY

ANDREA J. ANDERSON

COVER

COBY

rom the Archives F Walter Bobbie + Marc Bruni Team Captains: The Director/ Assistant Connection IN MEMORIAM

June 23, 2015 - March 22, 2016

SDC FOUNDATION

THE SOCIETY PAGES

Director/Dramatist Exchange Final SDC Journal for Communications Manager Bicoastal Executive Board Meeting SDC Membership Meeting in L.A. 68th Directors Guild of America Awards Dismantling Racism: A Community Forum for Southeast Seattle The Fred and Adele Astaire Awards Kickoff Party New Orleans Membership Meeting Horton Foote’s 100th Birthday + Abe Burrows

SDC JOURNAL

| SPRING 2016

Molly Smith + Sue White at Arena Stage PHOTO c/o Arena Stage PREVIOUS TOP

Christopher Gattelli + Lou Castro PHOTO Walter McBride PREVIOUS BOTTOM

Sue White + Molly Smith at Arena Stage PHOTO c/o Arena Stage THIS PAGE

Vietgone at South Coast Repertory PHOTO Debora Robinson/SCR

I’ve always admired creative partnerships that have lasted for decades. Not unlike a good marriage, it takes a lot of work to sustain that kind of intimacy, respect, and generosity. It also takes an ability to continually inspire and motivate each other under the most daunting and tension-inducing circumstances. I have learned that a sense of humor is enormously helpful. There is nothing like a little self-deprecating realization to break the tension. Laughter clears the palate and often motivates fresh ideas...or so I have found to be true in my collaboration with choreographer Michael Lichtefeld. In his own words: MICHAEL | The first time Susan and I collaborated was on a musical called Feathertop at WPA Theater in 1984. While the show did not do well critically, it did allow us to become close collaborators. Our work was seamless, and our next venture, A Little Night Music at Equity Library Theatre, was a smash hit. I think that what we discovered in our early years together was that communication is key, and that

FROM THE PRESIDENT

all ideas should be explored. We constantly challenge and support each other to do our best work yet. Some of our best ideas have come from poking fun at each other’s “dumb ideas,” which we are not afraid to share. When we were working on Company at the York Theatre Company, we were having difficulty finding a way into the birthday party scenes. Two frustrating hours and several glasses of wine later, Michael jumped up and said, “I’ve got it—an exploding birthday cake!” “That’s the dumbest idea I’ve ever heard,” I responded, laughing, when suddenly it inspired a not dumb idea: the flashbulb, which was such a part of birthday parties during that time. (Remember those flashcubes attached to Polaroids?) Michael and I aren’t shy about sharing our ideas with each other, because we know that even when we have a “dumb idea,” it could still lead us somewhere great. MICHAEL | Outside of Susan being my director, she is also one of my closest friends. We met through a mutual friend while I was still performing, and she gave me one of my first chances to choreograph. I am not saying that all collaborations need to end up a close friendship, but in our case it did, and now we often finish each other’s sentences. We will always talk about what a musical number needs to accomplish dramatically and what the best way is to make that happen. Sometimes she will take the lead and I will fill in the blanks, and other times it is the reverse. She will never walk into a room to see what I have been working on and see something that was not discussed. As with all artists, we don’t always agree; however, if I have an idea that I really want to explore choreographically, we talk and tweak until we have a meeting of the minds. She challenges me to always make it better. Susan also brings me into the equation very early on, in meetings with writers, composers, and designers, right at the beginning. This allows me to collaborate with them as well on the ground floor; that way, everyone is always on the same page. The best part of our working relationship is that I am always heard. She may not always agree, but she always listens. In my humble opinion, communication and respect are the keys to a good collaboration. We are not shy about sharing our opinions during the rehearsal process. I always know Michael has a problem with something I’ve done when he asks, “Can I tell you something?” “So, what don’t you like?” I say. Most of the time, it’s something that’s been troubling me as well, but something that I’ve been trying to ignore. He knows when I have something troubling to tell him about something he’s created, because I always begin with, “Don’t YELL at me, but...” And, of course, he does yell at me, but then he goes home and thinks about the moment and works on it and comes back the next day with a better idea than I suggested. I knew that would happen. I have confidence in Michael—and I always know we will take each other’s comments under consideration, whether we initially agreed or disagreed. What makes our collaboration work, and I think this is probably true for most successful collaborations, is that we make each other better. We don’t let each other settle. We continue to probe and prompt and question and, therefore, inspire. When we worked on the revival of Sweeney Todd at Circle in the Square, we were fortunate to have Stephen Sondheim attend several rehearsals and previews. He was very empowering and, to us, the ultimate collaborator. When we thanked him for his generosity, and I’ve quoted this several times, he said, “Generosity is easy. Giving is easy. Learning how to take is the hard part.” In solidarity,

Susan H. Schulman, Executive Board President SPRING 2016 | SDC JOURNAL

FROM THE EXECUTIVE DIRECTOR

Years ago in Seattle, Tony Kushner gave a speech at Meany Hall on campus at the University of Washington, and I walked away with such clarity. As we all know, Tony has seemingly unlimited capacity to change the way we think about ourselves and the world around us. I don’t remember the event of the speech, but I do remember interconnectedness, informed citizenry, and shared humanity. I began to see a way to organize my work. Although I had been drawn to these concepts throughout my career, that evening something crystallized. It was like a stake had been placed in the ground, and suddenly I understood the pillars that motivated my life in the theatre. Whether it is the dynamic between a theatre and its community or the relationship of one artist in collaboration with another, it is an authentic connection—and an understanding of all that means— that can make the difference. Nothing happens in isolation. Every choice we make has an impact, because we are all connected, and each piece of theatre has the capacity to illuminate our connections to one another, however joyous or sorrow-filled. If there is an impulse of ancient theatre and storytelling practices from around the world, it is the impulse to inform. Whether calling citizens to the Acropolis or the fire, every story we tell and every story we hear reminds us of our potential and of our responsibility. The more stories, the better informed. In this issue we celebrate collaborations— a few collaborations that, over time, have created remarkable theatre and hold the promise of much more. The joyful collaboration between Chris Gattelli and his Associate Lou Castro has compelled audiences to their feet with some of the most energized and power-filled choreography on stage today. They finish each other’s sentences, laugh, and shout in ways only possible when a deep connection is shared. There is the collaboration between Director and Stage Manager as manifest between Molly Smith and Sue White—a relationship invisible to many and yet one not to be taken for granted. Their work together has supported the telling of stories that remind us of our past, has reimagined productions of great American musicals, and—as in Camp David, which they explore in the interview—has shed a spotlight on our recent history. Chay Yew says of the significance of Marcus Gardley’s work, “Black history doesn’t only belong to African Americans; it belongs to all Americans. It is a travesty that most Americans don’t know black history. So, the fact that Marcus has been telling these stories to us, to new generations, and also perhaps to remind older generations, is truly the thing that he does most wonderfully.” The connection Chay has found to Marcus and his work is informing us all, bringing forward our interconnection and our shared humanity. At SDC today these principles of interconnection, informed citizenry, and collaboration are vital to our work. We are supporting the interconnections and collaborations that fuel your careers. We are striving to understand and address your needs as you make your work and live your lives. We remain connected to the wider theatrical community in an effort to strengthen the industry as a whole.

SDC JOURNAL

| SPRING 2016

In this election year, we need to pay special attention to cultivating an informed citizenry both on and off the stage. SDC Members, please vote. Take the time to know and understand the impact of each candidate’s position on the arts and entertainment. Understand their stance on unions and your right to collectively bargain for fair wages and benefits. Uncover their views on right-to-work legislation and minimum wage. The stakes are always high in a thriving democracy, but a democracy thrives only if its citizens participate. I have so enjoyed spending some time with the astonishing Abe Burrows as we put this issue together. He used humor to lighten our load and brighten our day, but he also used humor to get our attention:

“When I pick up papers today, if I didn’t laugh, what would I do?... You’ve got to say, ‘Well, you’re kidding! You got to be kidding, sir!’” In solidarity,

Laura Penn Executive Director

WHAT I LEARNED… MARLENE THORN TABER CURATED BY SERET SCOTT BY

I went to work for Edward Albee as a newly divorced mom with two small children, no college degrees, and few secretarial skills. But early on, Mr. Albee decided to call me an Executive Coordinator, and soon assigned me several communicative responsibilities: to personally answer telephone calls, keep a daily journal of messages, and sort mail.

IN YOUR WORDS What I Learned...

Phone conversations introduced me to some of the necessary people in Albee’s life: his producer, his agent at the William Morris Agency, his accountants, the Dramatists Guild, art gallery affiliates, and others. Similarly, opening mail introduced me to the international world of requests for publishing and performance rights and licensing, important documents (such as those relating to London’s Lord Chamberlain’s insistence on censoring Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?), lecture offers, and other worldly communiqués.

Why I Cast That Actor Backstage + 20 Questions

I became aware of the power of fame and its influence. Mr. Albee would often refuse to license his plays to countries where issues of human rights and censorship were outstanding. As a member of Pen International, he, Jerzy Kosiński, and John Steinbeck joined forces to get Alexander Solzhenitsyn out of a Soviet prison.

8 CONTRIBUTE

What I learned from him in relationship to the value of intellectual freedom cannot be overestimated. Based on Albee’s influence, I studied law and went on to write a proposal for an Intellectual Property Rights Conference for artists which the United States Embassy in Ukraine funded. (At my request, David Diamond, then Director of the SDC Foundation, came to Ukraine to lecture on artists’ and writers’ rights.) I did more work on Intellectual Property Rights in Beijing. Later, I spent time in Moscow with Yuri Lyubimov, famous director of the Taganka Theatre, exiled from Russia for some years because of his political dramas.

If you wish to contribute to IN YOUR WORDS, would like to respond to any of the articles, opinions, or views expressed in SDC Journal, or have an idea for an article, please email Letters@SDCweb.org. Include your full name, city + state.

In the Fall of 2015, on a trip to Bangkok, I sought out Pradit-Prasartthong, “Tua,” the artistic director of the Bangkok Theatre Festival. “Tua“ has a comedic knack and a reputation for organizing dramas as a structure for political issues. He takes risks in the foreground of an uncertain aging monarchy, issues concerning lineage to the throne, the current junta control, and the strictest lèse majesté laws in the world.

We regret that we are unable to respond to every letter.

In respect to these events, my thinking and feelings are clearly based on my early exposure to the international world coordinating communication for Edward Albee, who behind the scenes so often focused on human rights, and freedom from censorship within politics, art, and between persons.

PHOTO

In the article "Bill Castellino: An Eclectic Career," which appeared in the Winter 2016 issue of SDC Journal, the name of one of Mr. Castellino's collaborators was omitted. Frank Condon worked as the co-director for the Los Angeles and San Francisco productions of the musical Rap Master Ronnie. SDC Journal apologizes for this oversight.

Sylvain Durand

CLARIFICATION

Currently, MARLENE THORN TABER is developing a new play in its initial stages of readings. In 2015, she produced three AEA readings of the comedy, Sheila and Angelo by Nick Raio at the Dramatists Guild with three alternating casts. During the previous NYC seasons, she choreographed a production of Renewal by Michael Antin, and directed/choreographed: Madame Bovary, A for Adultery, and Moses, My Love, written by Paul Dick. Internationally, Marlene choreographed a concert for the National Academy of Theatre Arts in Beijing, and also directed/choreographed two musical revues funded by the US Peace Corps in Ukraine. In California, she directed shows for the US Air Force Morale, Welfare, and Recreation Division and was honored for her work in Tops in Blues. She began her professional stage career as a dancer in her teens. Later, she assisted director Alan Schneider, during which time she met Edward Albee. She is currently an active Member of both AEA and SDC and holds a PhD. SPRING 2016 | SDC JOURNAL

WHY I CAST THAT ACTOR

DAVID HILDER On casting Kelly McAndrew in User 927 at HERE

Casting Kelly McAndrew in User 927 was no small feat. Let me back up. I’d first been introduced to Katharine Clark Gray’s amazing script in 2009— as soon as I read it, I was salivating to direct it. The play has all the elements I most savor: complicated, ethically compromised characters; a taut sense of storytelling; and wicked good dialogue. (These are but a few of the play’s strengths.) I signed on to direct the piece for (late, much-lamented) Reverie Productions as a finalist in their Next Generation Playwriting Contest. The winner of that competition would get a full staging, but in the short term the job was to get the right people for a reading of the play. The lead character had to be a fierce woman, funny as hell, powerful and vulnerable—she had to be “a lot.” I asked Katie Gray if she knew Kelly McAndrew. I had yet to work with Kelly, but I’d seen her on stage and knew her socially, and suspected she would be perfect. Katie did know her and confirmed my opinion. And with a quick phone call, Kelly was on board for the reading, which went swimmingly.

When User 927 won Reverie’s competition that year, Katie and I were thrilled. We’d developed great rapport, a mutual respect that never felt precious. The following summer, 2010, we were happy to learn we would go on the main stage at HERE for a fully staged workshop of User 927. Amazing! Among our first calls of recasting? Kelly McAndrew. Because no dummies, we. But Kelly was doing another show. User was going to have to have a short rehearsal process—isn’t summer the time people are supposed to be more free and flexible? sigh— just two weeks and then a few days of tech for a very complex piece and then out of the cannon into our run. With Kelly upstate for roughly half our rehearsal process—and the role being on stage more than not—we had to think long and hard about whom to cast at HERE, especially given other rehearsal conflicts from the cast. We loved Kelly, and loved her in the role, but it would not be easy. I sent her an email saying as much. Colin Young (Reverie’s Artistic Director), Katie, and I all bandied about other possibilities— terrific actors who would serve the play really well—though our hearts weren’t in it. And then came the email from Kelly, essentially saying , “I will be entirely off book when I arrive. If the Stage Manager can send me blocking notes, I will learn them. I will come to NYC on the days off from my show until I can be there full time.” And now, a direct quotation: “I REALLY REALLY REALLY want to do this.” What choice had we? Kelly had just demonstrated the exact qualities that made her perfect for the part: tenacity and humor. But mostly tenacity. She was in. We went into rehearsal (a first rehearsal I mostly remember because immediately following the table read I started by teaching scene shifts, since we actually had the whole cast in the room) and, thanks in no small part to the terrific Colleen Cosgrove, who had volunteered to walk and talk Kelly’s role in her absence, we more than got the job done. Perhaps it’s because the circumstances were so circumscribed, but User 927 remains a highlight for me, career-wise. I love that play, I loved our process, I loved our production, and, chief among equals, I REALLY REALLY REALLY loved Kelly McAndrew as Leah.

Anna Kull + Kelly McAndrew in User 927 by Katharine Clark Gray at HERE PHOTO Colin D. Young

SDC JOURNAL

| SPRING 2016

BACKSTAGE WITH SET DESIGNER

MIMI LIEN

How did you get your start as a set designer? I started out studying architecture in college—I wanted to be an architect for most of my childhood. While I was studying architecture, I started doing more and more visual art. It was when I got to college that I started drawing and painting, and I did a lot of photography as well. After I graduated, I ended up going to Italy for a year to study painting, but when I was there, I realized that the three-dimensional was my forte. I found that I was still trying to convey three-dimensional ideas in the two dimensions of painting, and that didn’t quite feel right. So I started building objects and installations during the second half of my time there. And my teacher there started noticing what I was doing, and he one day said out of the blue, “Have you ever thought about doing stage design?” It actually was kind of a revelation. At that moment, I was like, “Oh, yeah, that actually seems exactly right.” I loved studying architecture, but I knew working as an architect meant that there are a lot of realistic factors and limitations with building real buildings. So stage design felt like the perfect combination of visual art and architecture, which is what I was doing. Were you a fan of theatre beforehand? It was definitely a world I knew nothing about. I had not seen very much theatre. My family went to the occasional musical during the holidays, but it wasn’t really in our culture. The other thing is, I didn’t go directly into theatre, either. Once this idea was planted, while I was in Italy, I thought, “Yeah that seems really interesting. I think I want to look into that.” But I didn’t know anyone in theatre; I didn’t know anything about theatre. I moved to New York, and I was temping at this architecture firm while looking for other opportunities, and the opportunities that came to me were actually in film. So I started out doing production design and art direction for film for about two and a half years. During that time I realized that the general notion of set design was very appealing and right for me, but I also felt that designing for film meant that you were mostly creating spaces that exist in the world. It’s a lot about set dressing and getting at the psychology of the characters through very detailed things, but that’s not the kind of designer I am, and I wanted to do more abstract work or sculptural stuff. And that’s where I thought that theatre would be a better application. How did you introduce yourself to the world of theatre? When I decided I wanted to work in theatre and realized that I didn’t know anything about theatre, I applied to grad school. I decided

to go to grad school at NYU so I could be in the city and see as much theatre as I could. Basically my years at graduate school were just me being a sponge, because I was seeing everything for the first time. Was there any show that rocked your world that you saw while you were discovering theatre? One show that I saw that made me think differently about what a theatrical event could be was a piece done by Complicité called Mnemonic. I saw that when I was in grad school, and at the beginning of the piece you would go in as an audience member, and on every seat there was a real leaf from a tree. At some point in the beginning, you’re asked to close your eyes and everyone in the audience is holding onto this leaf, tracing the veins with their fingers, and it was a very transporting experience. It felt like a really amazing way to connect to everyone else in the room. That was the first time that I experienced something like that in the theatre. What’s the first step in your process when working on a new production’s set design? The very first step is just immersing myself in the material—whether that be the play; the text; the music; if it’s a dance, the dance; going to rehearsals; and watching the dancers rehearse. Really just being steeped in whatever the source material is and letting my mind stay open and free-associate. Then, I would say the next step is meeting with my collaborators: usually the director, of course, and ideally as many of the other collaborators as possible. I have found that my most rewarding processes are when everyone who’s making the thing starts out in the room, and we talk about what we want this thing to be and what our responses are to the play or the text, and kind of getting everyone on the same page. Though I generally go to the first meetings without any initial visual show-and-tell. I don’t really do any research before that. I just want to see what everyone has to say and express what I have to say. I think it’s important to all get together and talk about what it should be before I go off in a specific direction. How does that translate into a physical set? Then I tend to do a bunch of research. I like to cast a very wide net. For me, the research process is limitless. I look at a lot of different images to see whether they resonate with what we’re doing. I also do a lot of textual research, like reading articles or books that are relevant. Anything that can get my juices flowing to what the general possibilities are. Usually during that part of the process, an SPRING 2016 | SDC JOURNAL

idea starts to coagulate, and I’ll probably have some ideas of what direction I want to go in. Then I go immediately into building models. I build a lot of models. I think for me, building a model is an essential part of the design. It’s where it really happens for me. I think I’m a very three-dimensional person, and with some people, this happens in drawing, but for me, it’s holding up pieces of cardboard in space and moving them around, and for some reason I’m able to be more intuitive and immediate in my responses to things when I’m thinking threedimensionally. How would you describe your aesthetic as a designer? That’s a difficult question, because I feel like there are times when I look back on photos of my work and I find them to be visually very different. So I don’t necessarily think there’s a visual through line, but I think what I try to do—and it does translate sometimes aesthetically—is just to find the strongest container for the piece. I will say that if I’m presented with a piece that has a lot going on, like a lot of different locations or a lot of different things that need to be represented, I do try to think of what can be distilled. Is there a way to do this whole thing in one container, is my question. I try to make simple, bold choices, which I think perhaps lend themselves to a certain look, or not. Basically, trying to find the truest way to hold this piece or help it move. For example, I just finished working on Natasha, Pierre and the Great Comet of 1812 (directed by Rachel Chavkin) up at A.R.T., and I often remark to people that this feels so different from a lot of my other work. Perhaps because of my penchant for keeping things simple, there is a minimalist feeling or aesthetic, but Natasha, Pierre is the total opposite. It’s all about curves and baroque ornaments, and geometrically it’s quite different from the rest of my work. But I would say the through line is I’m always trying to think of the way the piece moves—whether it should feel static or very dynamic, and that comes from the material. So, for Natasha, Pierre, it wanted to move in curves and have a certain dynamism. What do you think is the most important skill a set designer should have? It might be something that goes across a lot of disciplines in theatre, but I want to say the word “empathy” comes to mind. In a way, it’s really about having a lot of sensitivity. As a set designer, I’m negotiating so many different fronts—I want to create a space that can help the actors in their performance, or give them

something to push back on…or maybe it’s in contrast to what they’re doing. But I need to be sensitive to what they’re doing. Be sensitive to how the director wants to stage it. Be sensitive to how the audience experiences the space. I think a set designer should have sensitivities on all of these fronts and then be able to synthesize that into a spatial gesture. What’s the most challenging production you’ve worked on and why? In a way, the great thing about working in the theatre is that there’s a new challenge with every project, and there’s always something new and something that I’m dealing with for the first time and therefore learning about. Which is what I love. With Natasha, Pierre and the Great Comet of 1812, given that I’ve now done it in three different iterations, it is perhaps the most environmental design I’ve executed at this scale. That means that the audience traverses the same space as the set. Therefore, everything has to be up to building code. It’s exceptionally complicated, so I basically had a crash course in building code in two different cities because the entire set had to be designed with that in mind. Why do you think it’s important to explore creating works of theatre in unconventional spaces? That’s my biggest M.O. I’d say, and that comes directly from my background in architecture. I was taught to think about space and design spaces as if I was the person moving through it. So when you design a building, my architecture professors said that you should think about the experience of moving through a building almost as a series of theatrical events. When I started designing for theatre, I really was kind of sad that the space I was designing was only going to be viewed by the audience from one side, if you’re in a proscenium theatre, and you’re not actually experiencing the space. I feel like a three-dimensional experience of space is such a powerful thing and is such a great tool. I firmly believe that it’s something that can be harnessed to great potential for a theatrical production. You’ve received a MacArthur Fellowship. How has this impacted your future work? I haven’t had a whole lot of time to sit back and consider that question. It sort of landed at a time when I was in the middle of a bunch of deadlines and tech rehearsals. It’s been pretty much nonstop. I think I have read that a lot of other MacArthur recipients feel that

it’s great just to know that you’re going to be able to keep doing what you’re doing—that sustainability. That’s definitely really important, especially in our industry. For me, I would like for my work to now have the newfound ability to do something that I wasn’t able to do before. I have for a long time wanted to embark on a design-driven performance, where maybe I design the space first and then a performance is designed within that space or inspired by that design. It’s the kind of project that I would basically have to propose and create and be the leader, where usually, on more traditional productions, I’m not the one who is the first person involved in making it happen. So, up until now, I felt like I haven’t had the time or the resources to take on a project like that, so that’s definitely in the back of my mind. What’s your favorite part about what you do? What I love about being a set designer is it really feels like creating an actual physical world that the piece lives in. It’s so exciting every time. Every time I start a project, the empty model box, it just feels like a great laboratory. I guess because it’s the actual space that it lives in, the feel of it is always exciting for me. Walking into the theatre once the set has been installed and literally walking into the world that has been conjured up in my mind—I love that every time. What would you like directors or choreographers to know about the work of a set designer? I will say that I definitely appreciate working with directors and choreographers where the process is kept pretty open at the beginning, where we don’t come into the project with a lot of practical necessities. I think that I like to think about set design as really something that can both catalyze the content of the piece or be a counterpart, with not so much problem solving. That’s when set design becomes less fun, when it’s about problem solving. And, of course, there’s always problem solving—that’s part of everything. But it’s helpful for me for that not to be the first thing. Letting the process remain open for as long as possible and solve the practical stuff later—figure out the big idea first. PREVIOUS TOP TO BOTTOM

Natasha, Pierre & The Great Comet of 1812 at A.R.T. PHOTO Evgenia Eliseeva Scott Stangland + the cast of Natasha Evgenia Eliseeva

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Off-Broadway production of Natasha Mimi Lien

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Vietgone in two (four?) words. Go! Epic for our epoch. Qui Nguyen in one word? Mischief-maker. What excites you about directing new work? Excavating a new world; expressing a new vision for the right here, right now. What was your and Qui’s first project together?

Raymond Lee, Jon Hoche + Maureen Sebastian in Vietgone at South Coast Repertory PHOTO Debora Robinson/SCR

V I E T G O N E IN 20 QUESTIONS Vietgone tells the true-life story of playwright Qui Nguyen’s parents’ exodus from Vietnam in 1975 and their subsequent meeting and romance in an Arkansas refugee camp. It was commissioned by South Coast Repertory, where it opened in October 2015, and that production moves to Manhattan Theatre Club this fall for a 2016–2017 world-premiere run. With an Oregon Shakespeare Festival production also underway, director MAY ADRALES and Qui Nguyen’s collaboration on Vietgone spans three states (and counting), but their relationship goes even deeper. In “20 Questions,” May shares the story of May and Qui. Enjoy. Jon Hoche + Raymond Lee in Vietgone

Raymond Lee + Maureen Sebastian in Vietgone PHOTOS Debora Robinson/SCR

He fight directed one of my first shows in NYC, Thomas Bradshaw’s The Bereaved. I was fresh out of school, hyper-energetic, hyped up on coffee, and an intense perfectionist. He didn’t like me very much and vowed never to work with me again. When did you get involved with Vietgone? About six other directors weren’t available, so I, the last on the list but available, was able to work with him on a devised piece at NYU Tisch. We created a piece about mysteries of the body in the fall of 2014, and our process was fun, imaginative, spontaneous, and freeing. Over lunch that summer, he told me about his parents’ love story—or really how they began hooking up in a refugee camp in Arkansas— and next thing you know, I was directing our show at NYU and then flying to South Coast Rep, where the play was commissioned as part of their Crossroads program. How has your and Qui’s relationship changed over time? Well, he likes me now! And we’ve learned how to trust one another. Our strengths complement each other. Though still a perfectionist, I started to let myself love and embrace uncertainty and spontaneity. And Qui helped me find that even more in my work. Outside rehearsal, we bike, drink beers, and talk about what makes theatre, life, and relationships work. He’s the brother I never had, which means he is one of my closest friends and also the guy who doesn’t think twice about putting me in a headlock. What are you looking forward to about bringing this story to Oregon Shakespeare Festival? To Manhattan Theatre Club? Rewriting what it means to be an American. This is a story not included in history books; it’s the untold story of the Vietnam War. We SPRING 2016 | SDC JOURNAL

are living in a politically charged moment—as immigration, American identity, and our place as humanitarians on the global stage are being challenged at every level. We are looking back at 1975 during the Vietnam crisis, but the harrowing circumstances are sadly similar to the refugee crisis in Syria now. But to tell this kind of refugee story as a romantic comedy? A hilarious romantic comedy with kung fu fighting, hip hop, and theatre magic? It’s something audiences have never seen before. Which character do you relate to the most? The playwright (who is also a character in the play). I too want to understand my parents and their journey. Their strength, courage and integrity, and sheer tenacity helped me become who I am today. Which character would you want to play? Huong, Qui’s grandmother. Acid-tongued, steely, Herculean strength, and a heart of gold—very close resemblance to my Lola, who used to give me money so I could gamble on cockfights in the Philippines. If Vietgone were a musical, what would the title of the opening number be? Vietgone is basically part-musical, and the opening number is titled “Yella Muthafucker on a Motorcycle.” Speaking of music: in the play, Marvin Gaye’s “Let’s Get It On” is featured in a romantic montage. If you heard someone was making a montage of your rehearsal process, what kind of montage would it be and what song would you hope they would choose?

Stevie Wonder’s “For Once in My Life”—you can’t listen to it without being incredibly happy, which is the same experience of working on the play. Also, that song because, for so many of us on the project, we are experiencing the joy of telling an important Asian-American story in which none of the characters are fetishized or stereotypical. Note: The heroine, Tong, ain’t no Kim in Miss Saigon. You mentioned that you and Qui recently devised a piece together. Without a “play” in hand at the start of the process, did the dynamic of your collaboration change? Absolutely. We are family now. We gained each other’s trust in that process. We were able to be vulnerable in front of one another. We admired each other’s strengths and helped each other through the hard, difficult challenges. And we were unabashed about giving each other notes, which ultimately strengthened the work. Do you work with dramaturgs, and if so, at what point in the process? South Coast Rep and their incredible team of dramaturgs and artistic staff really helped us gain perspective on the play. It’s most helpful when they come in mid-process and serve as the first audiences in the safe space of the rehearsal hall.

If you were not a director, what would you be? Helping refugees in Syria. How do actors affect the development of a new piece? If the play is a symphony, actors are the melody. They are the heartbeat of any new play. They shape the piece by the questions they ask, the choices they make, the energy they bring to the rehearsal room. Their contributions are invaluable. What is (or are) your favorite line(s) of dialogue in the play? “Yee-haw! Get ’er done! Cheeseburger, waffle fries, cholesterol!”—American Guy. What is your hope for the future of Vietgone?

I ask myself: 1. Does this play teach me something about the world? About myself? Humankind? 2. Does it challenge me and the audience to see the world differently? 3. Is there beauty, magic, joy in the world of the play?

BONUS: What question do you wish you had been asked?

Theatre Club, The Goodman Theater, Actors Theatre of Louisville, Portland Center Stage, Syracuse Stage, Cleveland Playhouse, South Coast Rep, Oregon Shakespeare Festival, Pioneer Theatre, Milwaukee Rep and Two River Theater. She is a Drama League Directing Fellow, Women's Project Lab Director, Soho Rep Writer/Director Lab and NYTW Directing Fellow, and a recipient of the TCG New Generations Grant, the Denham Fellowship and the Paul Green Directing Award. She proudly serves as an Associate Artist at Milwaukee Repertory Theatre. She is a former Director of On-Site Programs at the Lark Play Development Center and Artistic Associate at The Public Theater. MFA, Yale School of Drama. She has directed and taught at NYU, Bard College, Juilliard and Fordham University. She is currently on faculty at the Yale School of Drama and Brown University. www.mayadrales.net | SPRING 2016

A good story well told—one that reflects the world we are living in today. Pepper in some jokes and some device/event/magic that could only happen in the theatre.

It plays to the largest audience possible, across time and place.

new plays. Her work has been seen at Lincoln Center Theater, Signature Theatre, Manhattan

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What do you consider to be essential ingredients in new work?

How do you choose a play to get involved in?

MAY ADRALES is a freelance theatre director based in New York City, working primarily with

4. Will it get me a million dollars? For all my projects, I’ve answered “Yes” to #1–3. Still waiting on #4.

“Where did you get those fabulous boots?” What would you have answered? My secret.

Tennessee Williams and ELIA KAZAN. Eugene O’Neill and JOSÉ QUINTERO. Stephen Sondheim and JAMES LAPINE. The list of prolific director/playwright collaborations is long and continually growing. In this decade, one exciting and productive partnership is that of Victory Gardens Theater Artistic Director CHAY YEW with playwright Marcus Gardley. When Yew reconfigured the Playwrights Ensemble at Victory Gardens in 2012, Gardley was one of the four playwrights whom Yew invited to join as ensemble playwright. Since that time, Yew has directed two world premieres of Gardley’s work at Victory Gardens (and another world premiere at Denver Center Theatre)—with a Midwest premiere planned to open in June 2016.

Marcus Gardley + Chay Yew in rehearsal PHOTO John Moore

At the start of the new year, Nakissa Etemad—a longtime colleague of Yew and a frequent dramaturg for Gardley— spoke with the collaborators about their work together.

THE SINGULAR VOICE OF TWO COLLABORATORS BY NAKISSA

ETEMAD

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Marcus Gardley + Chay Yew at the first rehearsal for The Gospel of Lovingkindness at Victory Gardens PHOTO Michael Courier THIS PAGE

Cleavant Derricks + Tony Todd in black odyssey at Denver Center Theatre Company PHOTO Jennifer M. Koskinen

“I’m always very proud of working with him because I feel like we’re telling stories that people need to listen to and respond to.” CHAY YEW

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NAKISSA ETEMAD | It is so thrilling to be interviewing you both, two of my collaborators and friends who are now in residency together. Chay, when I was the dramaturg on your play Red at The Wilma Theater in 2003, you were becoming known as both a playwright and a director. When did you make the shift from playwriting to directing and why?

experience, and helping to realize these worlds for playwrights. I also immensely enjoy the collaborative work in the rehearsal room, playing with actors and designers. As a playwright, nothing gives me more joy than to create a version of my world that I want to share with audiences. It’s more solitary, contemplative, more insular.

CHAY YEW | I was an associate artist and the Director of the Asian Theatre Workshop at Mark Taper Forum between 1995 and 2005. We produced many readings, and it fell upon me to find directors. Sometimes, when we couldn’t find a director, playwrights would ask, “Why don’t you direct the reading?” In those readings, I applied everything I had observed while sitting next to directors who directed my plays. I count those years as being an unofficial assistant director. I also discovered I could speak to playwrights about their plays—as a playwright. We have a shorthand in discussing each other’s work. It was also easy to get in the mind-set of the playwright and ask myself: What are they seeing here? Why this particular word, this punctuation?

NAKISSA | When you direct, what kind of plays excite you? What plays are you drawn to?

Then I started directing productions, not only at the Taper but East West Players and Theatre at Boston Court. I owe much of my early directing career to these smaller theatre companies who took chances on young directors. I don’t usually direct the world premieres of my plays, except for a devised work I had written called A Beautiful Country with Cornerstone Theater Company, and my own adaptations of Bernarda Alba and The Cherry Orchard. In my entire directing career, I have been invited to direct classics only once—Our Town at Oregon Shakespeare Festival. For me, the only way to direct classics was to adapt them as a playwright. I yearn for the day I can finally direct a Tennessee Williams, Arthur Miller, or Shakespearean play without having to adapt it. I’m glad to see more directors of color working on classic plays in recent years.

CHAY | I’m drawn to plays that have a sense of politic—that inform my citizenship in the world and in this country. Plays rich with language, emotional complexity, relevant plays that ask hard, brutal questions about the way we live. I also love epic and theatrical plays—plays that blow up my reality and challenge my perspective. Theatrical works. I’m probably not the person you want to direct a play set in a living room on the Upper West Side, with characters talking about curtains. NAKISSA | Do you find that, as an artistic director, you’re drawn to different kinds of plays?

NAKISSA | Do you have a preference for doing playwriting over directing?

CHAY | One of my responsibilities as artistic director is choosing the best plays that speak most passionately to the mission of Victory Gardens and to Chicagoans. We produce new and contemporary plays that represent and Cheryl Lynn Bruce + reflect our American Tosin Morohunfola in The Gospel of experience through Lovingkindness at Victory Gardens the lenses of diversity, PHOTO Michael Courier community, and social justice. Sometimes, these plays may not be my cup of tea aesthetically as director, but what the plays express need to be experienced at Victory Gardens. I try to make it a practice to divide my life as an artistic director and director. What the director in me wants to do may not be in the best interests of the theatre’s mission, and vice versa. When it collides, great. When it doesn’t, I find homes for the plays I want to direct at other theatres.

CHAY | I like both and very separately. As a director, I love plunging into worlds that I would have never thought to write nor

NAKISSA | How do you decide if you will direct or if you will hand it off to another director in your season?

Balancing time between being a playwright and a director has been difficult, admittedly. It’s harder to write when you are directing someone else’s work. It requires a different set of skills and intuitions. I have to kill the director perched on my shoulder when I’m writing. I keep hearing my dramaturgical and analytical mind, and it inhibits my instincts and my freedom to dream and play as a playwright. Other playwrights who are directors may have it easier. For me, it’s been a personal challenge.

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CHAY | You always want to find the director who best understands the voice of the playwright and who breathes the best possible life into the play. Sometimes that director isn’t me. Also, I prefer to direct world premiere plays because I love new plays and working alongside a playwright. It’s like discovering a magnificent uncharted country, learning and understanding its unique customs and culture. As a preference, I tend not to direct second productions of plays, unless the playwright wants to rework their plays with different eyes. NAKISSA | Marcus Gardley is a resident playwright at Victory Gardens. So his plays must fit nicely into your mission. Marcus, how did you first meet? MARCUS GARDLEY | I was a huge fan of Chay’s plays, which I studied in college. More than any other writer, he had a really beautiful way of using terse language and beautiful poetry creating complex thought, a profound voice in terms of sexuality, but also of what it’s like to be a foreigner in this country. Then I saw a lot of the plays that he directed at the Public and Julia Cho’s piece that he had done in L.A. I first met Chay on a panel for Theatre Development Fund at New Dramatists. It was Craig Lucas, me, Chay, and several other playwrights and directors. It was formed because of Todd London’s book Outrageous Fortune. After the book came out, TDF saw there was a huge gap between how they thought theatre was serving artists in terms of financial support and representation versus what was really happening. On the panel, Chay talked about a lot of his passions and I thought, “This is somebody I could collaborate with because we share a lot of the same passions.” I remember telling my agent at the time, Morgan Jenness, that I would love to work with Chay. I think she said, “Oh, he’s a perfect match for you” and—you know how agents do—“I’m already on it.” (laughter) I think she passed him my play the road weeps, the well runs dry. New York Theatre Workshop was doing a workshop of it and he agreed to direct it. We had instant chemistry and a really great time. I felt like one of those moments where the cast and creative team was such a great match that I got inspired to do major rewrites every night. It’s rare in theatre that we find a collaborator who we feel confident enough that they really study what you’re trying to do—you know this, Nakissa, as a dramaturg I work with a lot— that they are really trying to hone the story. I struggle with structure and Chay is really keen on that. So it was a great, great collaboration. We had a really long chat on the train ride back….

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CHAY | …The train ride up. Up and back.… Talking about the play, what he wanted the play to be, why he wrote it. I was learning more about the world of the play and what he expected of the workshop. MARCUS | I think we knew we wanted to get this play on its feet. So, that was our first collaboration. NAKISSA | It sounds like you were planning… you thought you two had a future together from the beginning. MARCUS | Oh, we knew, definitely. CHAY | For me, one of the key things about a long-lasting collaboration, aside from creative compatibility, is that can we sit down together as two individuals, laugh and dish, have conversations, argue about the art, and ask questions of our world. What do you believe in? What are you passionate about? What do you fight for? Our conversations grew into a friendship and an artistic relationship, grounded by similar passions and politics. I think that whatever Marcus writes, how we communicate, there is always a sense of “We’re always on the same team.” NAKISSA | When you each think about your relationship versus your relationship with another playwright or director, do you think your personalities mesh well? Is that something that binds you? Is it intellectual common ground, or is it many things? MARCUS | I think it’s many things. One of the great things that he is doing here at Victory Gardens is that he sees a need and he tries to fill it. A lot of artistic directors may run from it. I find that to be the most common thing in the American theatre; you can quote me on that! (laughter) A lot of people—this is generally speaking, of course—work from a sense of fear. “We better not do that because I don’t want to lose this funder.” What’s really kind of crazy about that is that even with the people you think are going to respond negatively, people always respect courage and bravery. At the end of the day, we say, “That was a really bold choice.” And I think if you’re going to work in the theatre you have to be a visionary, because nobody is going to walk away a millionaire. (laughter) It’s really about the work—about the community. We both have a really strong passion for community. Chay is passionate about Chicago and about the communities here. And I’m a community person—I grew up in that, I come from that—so that pushes all my buttons. If I talk about heart, that’s where we meet, heart-wise. But we also feel very passionate about representation on stage. Who haven’t we heard from? It’s not because

they’re necessarily marginalized, it’s just in general, why haven’t we heard from them? Where is the truth in that character? What is the emotional journey of that character? Why do I care that the character is on stage? Those are the things for me that are the heart of the theatre, it’s what I try to put in my work. Intellectually, Chay and I also congeal on how can we push audiences into areas where they are uncomfortable, where they wouldn’t normally go? And to me that is the most important thing about the art form. Unfortunately, this is a medium where a lot of subscribers are older. And we have a responsibility to also appeal to younger audiences; we have a responsibility to appeal to most of the people who normally don’t come to the theatre. Those things are where we meet and are most passionate about. The proof is in the programming here at Victory Gardens. Even the plays that are challenging; at the end of the day, they’re ambitious. The messages we’re receiving are very powerful; they’re complex. Nobody walks away from a Victory Gardens play without having a great conversation about the show. Many theatres are doing Death of a Salesman for the third time in 10 years. It’s like, “Really?” I don’t want to create theatre if I can’t challenge myself as an artist. I think Chay is passionate about that as well. NAKISSA | Chay, what do you think is your common ground? CHAY | I concur with Marcus, on many levels. We share many core beliefs, aesthetics, politics, and a sense of humor. I love his ability to write directly to the soul and heart of human beings. His gift of speaking about the world in which we live. Using lyricism and poetic language. His great, great imagination taking us to worlds that we could never imagine. He also possesses the uncanny talent of employing and fusing history in his plays—sometimes uncovering lost chapters of American history—so we can better understand how we got here, why we behave the way we do in the present, and what needs to be done so history won’t repeat again. Add his politics, his cry for racial and class equity, and his desire to represent and celebrate the stories from his community that are often not told nor dramatized. I see a younger and better version of myself in Marcus. It’s thrilling. I’m always very proud of working with him because I feel like we’re telling stories that people need to listen to and respond to. In all of his plays, we’ve seen audiences moved, reminded of where they have come from and having a dialogue about where they need to go next.

That’s not only African Americans but Americans across the board. Black history doesn’t only belong to African Americans; it belongs to all Americans. It is a travesty that most Americans don’t know nor own black history. So, the fact that Marcus has been telling these stories to us, to new generations, and also perhaps to remind older generations, is truly the thing that he does most wonderfully. What is remarkable, too, aside from his unique theatrical language, Marcus also captures and uses the vernacular of the contemporary African-American community—building an immediate bridge to African Americans (in a way) that no other person could. I remember during previews of The Gospel of Lovingkindness—Marcus’s play about gun violence on South Side Chicago—his first monologue pierced through our audience on different levels. The African Americans were shocked. They looked at each other, “Did I hear what I just heard? I can’t believe the character is speaking directly to me. Can I laugh?” They immediately got the sense, finally, that someone is speaking to them and about them, without filter, without context. Their neighborhood, their voices are on stage. Then the younger liberal audience that was like, “Can we laugh at this? Am I given permission to laugh? Is that politically incorrect?” And you see the looks on the faces of older white audiences: “What’s going on? What are they getting that I’m not? Stop laughing.” They were indignant that the other audiences were in the know before they were…which is kind of ironic, because that’s how most people of color feel when they experience a white play. We are producing too many plays about the black experience for white audiences where everything is overexplained and contextualized. The black aesthetic and experience are bleached out for white audiences. We usually explain black life, the black experience, in very simplistic ways to white audiences in the theatre. It’s interesting that white audiences don’t demand that of Shakespeare. This is often the same with other plays of color; we have to filter our lives and narratives through white dramaturgy and lens. This time, with Marcus’s play, the tables were turned. In time, the older audiences went on the same ride with the others. I’ve never had this experience before and it was exhilarating. We need more poets of the community on our stages, on American stages, and Marcus Gardley is definitely one of them. NAKISSA | I was wondering what it’s like for Marcus to be a member of the Playwrights Ensemble and have a residency. What is that like for you as a working playwright?

MARCUS | It’s incredible. I can’t help but think that why Shakespeare wrote so many plays is because he was essentially the playwright-inresidence at the Globe. What greater inspiration do you have when you are in the community, writing for a group of people over a series of years? Often playwrights write a play at a regional theatre and they never come back. Audiences only see that one breadth of the writer; they never get to see the full range of what that writer can do. The real gift for me is not only am I in Chicago writing a series of plays for the community, about the community, with the community in mind, but I actually have a sort-of family at the theatre who I can bounce ideas off of. I can workshop the play here. I can work with other writers locally. In my collaboration with Chay, I really love his direction so much. What’s really amazing is the more we work together, it feels like the voice becomes so singular. We don’t waste a minute. I like to be in one place and keep working in that place. It’s sort of like digging deeper, and getting to the roots of the city. In my time here in Chicago, I’ve made so many really amazing connections. Chicago has become my second home. And it is a theatre town! Even more than New York, in a lot of ways. People come to the theatre in a blizzard. What that has created is an audience that understands dramaturgy—that will ask you in a post-show discussion about your dramaturgy. They understand play structure; they understand character development. So, it’s not only inspiring, it’s exciting to present work in front of them. Even if they don’t get it or like it. But the conversations that the play arouse are always incredible conversations. People are so passionate about the theatre. And we’re trying to engage them in an interesting way. We’re talking about: “How do you write about Chicago in a way that keeps Chicagoans on the edge of their seats, that intrigues them, and that also inspires and educates?” We are trying to hit on all cylinders. CHAY | It’s been a luxury having Marcus live in Chicago because of the Andrew W. Mellon Foundation Playwright Residency Grant. The Foundation has just renewed for another three years. This has allowed Marcus to set up home here, while he travels around the country for his other projects. It is a wonderful opportunity for us to actually have him here at the theatre and to write new plays about the Chicago African-American experience. NAKISSA | It’s incredible. As you said, you two can go deeper and deeper into the work and tap into the community in ways that other collaborators may never have the chance to do.

CHAY | Yes. We can actually spend time together—in one physical space—to dream together, and to offer him the resources to create new work. “Want to write something new, something really different? What do you want to know about this issue in the community? Okay, we know this person. Let’s make a story circle or hook you up with our community partners for an interview.” Marcus has been going to Chicago neighborhoods and workshopping with kids as well and speaking to community leaders and members to create new plays for their own community. The wonderful thing is our collaboration also goes beyond our playwright and director relationship. We also collaborate with other social and political activists in Chicago. We know and meet with many artists and art administrators who share this same zeal. This is a city that throughout history, but particularly right now, has a lot of wounds—police brutality, gun violence, racial segregation. There are many of us who really believe that activism and art can be helpful. Marcus and I have already been meeting with the Cultural Commissioner on finding ways to help heal the city through theatre, performance, visual arts. NAKISSA | Can you talk me through a typical process between you two? When you are starting a new play together, how do you create the work? MARCUS | I think every process is a little bit different. What we’ve found now is a sort of medium ground. I’ll have an idea and then he’ll give me some suggestions on the idea and then we’ll bounce back and forth—which I really love. It just saves you all that time of outlining, and everything like that. When you work with someone for a long period of time, you just have a shorthand. [When we have a first draft], we might do a workshop. Then I would do another pass, probably two or three passes, after that. And then we’d start rehearsal. All through the rehearsal process, I’m doing drafts, scenes. Then there’s a moment where the playwright really should be giving the play over to the cast. What’s so great about Chay is he is not opposed to rewriting scenes in previews. During previews, we do a lot of tweaking. We’re there every night. We always do postshow discussions. We take into account what audiences are saying. We mostly listen to how they are responding while they’re watching. When do we feel like we lose them? How can we change that? We work, work, work up until the day before the opening. And even after that. Just before this call, we were talking about a piece we SPRING 2016 | SDC JOURNAL

Tosin Morohunfola + Eleni Pappageorge in An Issue of Blood at Victory Gardens PHOTO Michael Courier

worked on—one of my favorite pieces—several years ago. I think we just kind of magically unlocked some of the problems that were in that play. Now I’m excited to go back to that. Plays are living things, and that’s one reason why I love working in the theatre: you can always learn something about a play. NAKISSA | Are there general guidelines you observe with each other about communication in or outside the rehearsal hall as director and playwright? Do you have a pattern for working together? CHAY | Our doors are always open to each other. If Marcus calls me late at night about a plot point, we talk through every detail until he is inspired to write something. I like being his bouncing board and we feed off each other, tracking characters and story, asking questions. Sometimes, because I’m a playwright, I always preface certain notes, saying, “Okay, this will be prescriptive, but what about this?” Marcus is smart enough to realize that’s a good note, or he’ll say, “You know what? I like it but it’s sparking something else for me, and I can come up with something better.” There isn’t a fight between egos with us. We are all about the play, what makes the play better. And we always go with what’s better. Our channels are more open because we’re friends—which is weird, because I never expected us to be friends. Marcus and my relationship is based on shared aesthetics, politics, a work ethic, a love of story, and lots of laughter. We enjoy each other and are friends who work together. The lines are always blurred. We have fun, we talk about the work,

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we do the work, he shows me something different, I say “Great, how about this?” He says, “I don’t know, how about that?” And then at some point, we talk about food and the new Beyoncé video. It’s a continual dialogue, one that I hope will continue for the rest of our lives. I’m fortunate to have Marcus. I don’t feel alone in doing it. NAKISSA | What is an example of something you have learned from Marcus or your collaboration with him that you never knew before? Maybe it’s taught you a skill? CHAY | That I can actually stage some of the fantastical stage directions he writes! (laughter) I find different ways of interpreting them. Given his incredible imagination, one thing Marcus has given me in our collaboration together is the opportunity to push myself more artistically. Whether it’s choreographing musical and dance numbers, staging theatrical scenes and extended fights, or clashing time, space, and narratives, working on his plays is such a thrill to stretch my aesthetic canvas. As an Asian-American immigrant, it is a surprise that I find myself most American when I read or see his plays. And they often have brilliant moments where I’m confronted with my own humanity; his words cut me to the core and I feel alive—aware—as a result of it. In The Gospel of Lovingkindness, the scene where one character writes a letter to his unborn son in the future always rips me apart. When I see it, I am always reminded about what my parents gave up for me to come to this country. In black odyssey, there is a scene where his characters are trapped on the roof

because of a great flood. One character then tells of other African Americans who are also trapped on other roofs of houses. She points to four little girls whose church was bombed in Birmingham; on another is Emmett Till. Suddenly the end of days arrives, and we see all the souls slowly rise up into the heavens. This scene is political, a hymn to all AfricanAmerican lives senselessly lost to racism. I still carry that scene in my head. These are rich images, history, language that no one has managed to fuse together. So, it’s not only a privilege but a gift to work on such plays. NAKISSA | I totally get it! I feel much the same way about Marcus’s work. So, Marcus, can I ask you the same question? Is there something you’ve learned or you value from your work with Chay? MARCUS | Yes, quite a few things. I think most writers will attest to this: when you start out as a writer, people expect you to “get it” right away. Chay always reminds me, and I think a lot of it comes from his experience as a writer, that there is something about when the playwright is not seeing what they envision right away and a good director will be able to see where they’re headed and that they’ll get there. Every time we do a run-through or a reading, Chay will come in and check in with me. Any time that there’s something that is not working, or even that might be unclear to me, he will come in and say, “I know this is what you want, we’re getting there; just be a little bit patient.” Or, “We ain’t going to get there! Let’s come up with another strategy.” To me, that is so exciting, because there are always more tools.

MIDDLE

Eugene Fleming, Jason Bowen, Sequoiah Hippolyte + Kim Staunton in the Denver Center Theatre Company’s world premiere production of black odyssey PHOTO Jennifer M. Koskinen RIGHT

Lizan Mitchell, Steve O’Connell + Tosin Morohunfola in An Issue of Blood at Victory Gardens PHOTO Michael Courier

There was a moment in the opening of An Issue of Blood where I was really frustrated, because I saw one way to do it. I just had people singing, but what Chay did was stage the entire prologue, and it never occurred to me that was possible. You know the entire history of these people in two minutes. It is revealed later in the play, but I don’t know how you could even get there without having that moment. So, one thing I learned is trusting the process, and trusting your collaborators, letting people find it. The play is really a blueprint, it’s open for interpretation, and trusting that. NAKISSA | I want to ask a hard question. What do you do when you don’t agree? Do you go to your corners? Do you hash it out? MARCUS | It’s never bad. We’ve never had dragout fights; we don’t do that. When I don’t agree, he always respects that. What I’ve found is when I get notes, it’s never a bad note. It’s either, “It’s not what I see” or “I can solve it another way.” There has never been a time where I’ve been angry or frustrated with him in that way. We always have a great time. Being an artist, you’re just not going to agree on everything. CHAY | That’s because the play is the thing, and we let the play be the final arbiter. What does the play want? When we’re listening to the heart of the play, we know. We say, “Let’s go with the best idea that serves the play.” One recent example had to do with a stage picture. In An Issue of Blood there was a lynching scene. For me, dramatically and visually, seeing ten bodies hung on stage made a devastating point about our violent racist past and brought to life our country’s first

slave rebellion. However, once the audience experienced this moment, they found it hard to follow the rest of the play. Because it was such a visual assault. It was too strong an image, and it stopped the play. At one preview, we took all the bodies out of that moment, but something was missing. Marcus and I felt the lynching of the character had to be seen. But the question was: how many, when, and where? Again the play trumped the two of us. Finally, we used one body and it was done stylistically. It worked. MARCUS | Exactly. If we had done that visual in the South, that’s the moment that people would have been riveted. It’s all about location. They live with it. We don’t live with it in Chicago. That’s not a Northern thing. I have done readings in Texas and places in the South, and when you try to talk about lynching, the conversation is incredible. People want to talk about it. I love the way we solved that, and I thought the end result was really remarkable. NAKISSA | I have one last question for you. What advice would you offer to other playwrights and directors about how to productively work with each other? Especially for early career playwrights and directors. Is there a secret formula? I think perhaps it’s to keep in mind that the play is the thing. But is there something else? MARCUS | Definitely. I think everybody is different. The reason why we’re good friends is part of the reason why we work so well together too. I think not everybody is going to be a great match. It doesn’t mean that one person is hard to work with. It just means that sometimes different personalities don’t

connect for a particular project. What’s great about that first conversation I had with Chay was that I didn’t have to question him. As a playwright, you really want to find somebody who you just know is telling you stuff you already thought about in your head. That’s somebody you just connect with artistically, on a visceral level. Chay was a well-established director, so I got lucky. Sometimes playwrights are working with directors because they are known, and I don’t think that’s always a good choice. The key ingredient is the effort to be passionate about your work, understand on some deep level what you’re trying to do, and be open to creating a series of projects with them. CHAY | Love and respect each other’s work. Get to know each other well. Share the same politics, the same fire, the same fight. If you can’t share a laugh or a conversation, seek different partners. It’s a relationship, and sometimes it’s a marriage. You’re not always going to agree on everything. But you are committed to each other, because you have a lot that you can learn and give to each other. And that comes out as the plays you work on. Marcus pushes me to try new things or think or rethink, and I do the same with him. It has always been exciting, inspiring, and very, very invigorating. Sometimes we’ll talk about what is happening in the world and ask ourselves, “How are we going to respond to this?” The air changes. And suddenly we are brothers, warriors, artists, responding to society with a new project. SPRING 2016 | SDC JOURNAL

MOLLY SMITH + SUE WHITE AN UNCOMMON BOND INTERVIEW BY MARK

BLY

Arena Stage Artistic Director Molly Smith and her long-time stage management collaborator, Sue White, have worked together for nearly two decades on classics, new plays, and musicals. During that time, they have evolved as artists and helped Arena Stage become a preeminent theatre for the development of new American plays and the support of American playwrights. Anyone who has watched Smith and White over time knows that their process is often an invisible one, with a unique, unspoken vocabulary. They are an uncannily uniﬁed force that moves the rehearsal process along. In January, 2016, former Arena Stage Dramaturg Mark Bly spoke on behalf of SDC Journal with Smith and White to talk about the collaboration between a director and a stage manager, and the uncommon bond that continues to help them evolve.

Sue White + Molly Smith working on Oliver! at Arena Stage PHOTO c/o Arena Stage

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You’ve worked together for nearly 20 years at Arena Stage. What is the first project you collaborated on together? Was it Cat on a Hot Tin Roof in 1998, or was it at some other theatre before then?

SUE WHITE | Yes, it was Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, but we also had crossed paths at New York Theatre Workshop. I certainly knew of Molly Smith before Arena. MOLLY SMITH | I was at New York Theatre Workshop with The Five Lesbian Brothers, doing Brides of the Moon. That was right before I came to Arena. But Sue, on Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, were you my sound designer? SUE | I started out as your sound designer, but then, right after the opening, I took over for your stage manager, who was moving on to another show. After Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, could you two ever imagine working together again?

MOLLY | I certainly imagined working with Sue again. But I will say that what happened is that slowly, over time, more and more trust developed and the relationship just kept changing—like any good relationship—until in the last decade, whenever I’m talking about a new show at Arena, the first person that I talk to is Sue. So, probably for the first eight years, it was getting to know all about you, even though we were working together on projects. Would you say that is true, Sue? SUE | Absolutely. Where do you think the common ground is for both of you? Is it your unique personalities, or is it a meeting of like artistic minds or a combination of both?

SUE | All of the above. MOLLY | I think the first core value we share is about the play. It’s all about the artistry in the play and the story and the characters. The second core value is about the people in the room and the theatre company. Relationships are really important to me, and I think they’re very important to Sue. Both of us work very hard to create a rehearsal hall that’s about risk and animation. That’s difficult, because artists are running around, trying to make a living here and there. We work on a number of processes in the rehearsal halls that are quite improvisational, as you know, Mark. I think we do our best work in the rehearsal hall when actors are open, excited, creative,

and fearless. And that means that it’s a rehearsal hall that’s open to ideas as opposed to being fearful of new ideas. But we have other core values. I’m Irish Catholic and Sue is Italian Sicilian. So, we actually share a common bond of loyalty, family, and making sure we get the job done. SUE | But also it’s that work ethic that gets the job done, but while being mindful of the circle. Mindful of always making sure that you get it done, but getting it done in a way that preserves the circle. MOLLY | I think the other part is that neither one of us is afraid of conflict. Both of us see conflict as a way through. Even though what we want is the kind of rehearsal space that’s freeing, if there is conflict, that’s okay. It’s just about work. I want to return for a moment to your diverse background, Sue. You mentioned you were a sound designer. You had a very strong background as a sound designer at Arena, winning several Helen Hayes Awards. In my experience, some of the smartest people I have been around— and the most dramaturgically minded— are stage managers. Stage managers understand stories. They’re tracking them every night. Can you talk a little about how you made the transition from being a sound designer to a stage manager?

SUE | Well, back in the olden times when I started stage managing, there were no sound designers. Stage managers dealt with sound. When there needed to be sound effects for a show, back in the ’70s, it was the stage managers who were the ones who facilitated that because they had the sensibility of how it was supposed to work within a scene, what the director wanted it to do to tell the story and advance the story in the scene. It is the same with lighting designers. Before there were lighting designers, stage managers dealt with lighting. Stage managers still deal with lighting a lot. On a tour, you’re the one who focuses the lights in every stop. I’ve done lighting design; I’ve done sound design; I’ve done production management. I really believe all of that makes me a better stage manager. Could you describe your preproduction preparation process together and how it has evolved over this 20-year period?

SUE | I love to have Molly tell me about the show—how she sees the show—and what she wants the show to do. That’s really vital to me. I love seeing the show through her

eyes because she has a strong vision of what it should be. Being able to see it through her eyes before any production aspect emerges really, really informs me. It sets the vision. And that’s not just for a production. It could be a workshop; it could be a one-day reading. If I can see it through her eyes, it just clarifies things for me. MOLLY | The pleasure for me with Sue is that, early on, we have design meetings six or eight months before any initial designs are due. We’re in the room and talking through it conceptually. We’re getting down to specifics. Often, we’ll have two major design meetings. We get everybody here to arrange the stage. Sometimes we’ll have people on the phone as well. We work through and envision the whole show together, months before we see the actors. That process is about soaking up all of the creative information very, very early on. It just gets deeper through time. I think that, without the time to really think and dream, one doesn’t get to a fascinating production. And that’s with all minds on deck. You just used that word “pleasure.” Could you talk a little bit about the idea of the dream phase when you’re planning?

MOLLY | You know what happens in artists’ minds or in artists’ faces when they’re dreaming. You can see their eyes go into a different place, and it gets deeper. Sometimes that period of time is going solitary. Where do ideas come from? Generally, they come from life or from research or from reading. When it’s possible to have a whole group of people dreaming and imagining together, that’s when it gets really exciting. Sue and I both try and create the atmosphere where that happens—first with the designers and then with the actors—where people are free to throw in any stupid, ridiculous, exciting, crazy idea that they want. Usually in the creative idea, there is a kernel of truth that can be utilized, because all of those are living, breathing human beings who are picking up the information from the world all the time. Whether it’s from reading the newspaper or watching something on television or walking down the street, seeing a dog, we’re picking up information. When artists bring in their life experiences to whatever the play is, and if the play has been correctly chosen, it’s about this present time. This moment in time and then how did we get to it. So often one senses that there are spoken or unspoken guidelines that directors and stage managers observe when they’re communicating in rehearsal or outside rehearsals. From my experience working SPRING 2016 | SDC JOURNAL

“

Both of us work very hard to create a rehearsal hall that’s about risk and animation.

” Molly

on productions with you, I sense that the two of you have this. It’s almost an invisible process of communicating. Can you talk about that?

by Karen Zacarias, Lawrence Wright, and Eric Coble. Could you talk about the preproduction process or pre-workshop process that you have on a new play?

SUE | I think that’s the advantage of a longterm relationship and why so many directors, when they find a stage manager of a like mind, they want to work with them. There’s a shorthand between them.

MOLLY | Some of the plays that you just referred to were commissioned by Arena Stage. When a new play comes in, and after I’ve been working with a writer on any potential ideas they might want to look at, it’s ready for a reading. Sue is my stage manager of choice, and even though she lives in Pennsylvania, she always makes certain that she’s here for that early reading.

Time and energy are two things that are so demanding during any process. When you can save time and energy, it’s a blessing for a director—particularly when your director is the artistic director of a major theatre. Wouldn’t you say so, Molly? MOLLY | Yes. Sue is also a master of scheduling—at figuring out who needs to be

When we’re working on the new political plays that we’ve been quite focused on at Arena, it isn’t just the actors in the room; it also is the experts in the room. On something like The

The company of Oliver! at Arena Stage PHOTO Margot Schulman

“

There’s never going to be a problem that we’re not going to overcome together. Sue

where and when—which absolutely frees me to be able to do the creative work with the actors. She always has great ideas—sometimes she won’t cop to it that they were her creative ideas—but I always, always listen to her and, I’d say, probably 90 percent of the time, I use them quite freely and happily. And by doing that, it also creates an atmosphere that allows everyone to feel like they can stay in that dream phase longer. They can feel free to be open, to share ideas. Now, I’m shifting a little bit here. Arena Stage under Molly’s leadership has become known as a preeminent resident theatre for focusing on American plays. You’ve collaborated on a number of new plays

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Originalist by John Strand—which was about Justice Antonin Scalia, arguably the most polarizing figure on the Supreme Court—we had, at the first reading, Joan Biskupic, who is the recognized expert on Scalia. We had Nina Totenberg, NPR’S Legal Affairs Correspondent, give us feedback for John in terms of where we were, as far as the personality and the ideas of Scalia. Sue makes certain that the rehearsal hall is in the best possible place to receive visitors who are experts in their field. We also make sure that everything is laid in place for the playwright to be able to receive the best information that’s going to help drive us forward with an important play. I’ll never forget a moment with John Strand’s play when Nina Totenberg asked him a question about a key

moment in the play, and John said, “Well, actually, that came out of my imagination. Nina Totenberg laughed, and she said, “Oh no, John. Oh no, John. You just can’t. If that would have happened, that would have been a story. Do you understand that, John? It would have been a story and we wouldn’t want your remarkable play to be hurt by something that every reporter in the country would be calling me about to find out if it was true.” The visitors were extremely not just positive but almost thrilled about the play. In other cases, they also had things to say about it. When we did Camp David by Lawrence Wright, we had everybody from Maureen Dowd to Seymour Hersh to Jim Lehrer in the room, listening at one of the most

remembering that bad storm during the Camp David meetings. She was so thrilled that the storm was part of the play because it was such a big deal while they were out at Camp David. Again, connected to your rehearsal process, what kind of exercises do you share with the members of the company for each production? Can you both talk about their value and impact?

MOLLY | There are some improvisation exercises that I use on all productions because I found that it really helps actors jump-start the process. The first week we are around the table, going through each scene and asking as many questions as possible. Musical theatre people are actually shocked at this process. In a drama, it might be more

Jeff McCarthy as Fagin + the company of Oliver! PHOTO Margot Schulman

Meg Gillentine as Sally Bowles with the Kit Kat Klub girls in Cabaret at Arena Stage PHOTO Scott Suchman

intense levels that I’ve ever seen. It was very odd because half of the room was reporters, and the other half of the room was theatre people. The theatre people were laughing. The reporters were listening without smiling. Afterwards, we had a very active conversation with Larry Wright.

normal, but in musical theatre, it’s usually only about the music and the choreography, and the book scenes ride in later. But through a process where anybody can question anything in every scene, we end up getting to a real road map for the production that we can all agree on. Around the table, it really does start to move into interpretation.

I think it’s great to get the experts in the room early on. That’s an example of how we make sure that the writer and the actors have the best tools possible. We’re in Washington, D.C., and we have amazing resources. People who are the absolute experts in their field are available to visit. SUE | There was also Madeleine Albright, the former Secretary of State who worked at the National Security Council under Jimmy Carter,

Depending on the project, there is either a wonderful dramaturg in the room—like you have been, Mark—who can really answer some of the questions that I can’t answer—some of the historical questions—or there might be a whole package of information that Linda Lombardi, our literary manager, has created. She’s often in the room as well. I want actors to be aching to get up and be absolutely full to show the research.

When we were working on Fiddler on the Roof, we had a Jewish expert [who] worked with us all the way through rehearsal, which was fantastic. We got out and saw a Jewish wedding and Jewish funerals to make sure that what we were doing was authentic and came from an authentic place. At the end of that week, actors were asked to bring in a threeminute improvisation about a critical turning point in the character’s life. What’s fascinating about working with a cast of 25 or 30 is that each person has three minutes to show in an improv what that critical turning point is. It pulls everybody in a company together and recognizes each person’s creativity. It elevates the room. SUE | It creates such an intimacy. From the first moment to the last, it’s about respect. That’s

vital to Molly, and it’s vital to me. In every step of the journey, there’s such respect: respect of the artist, respect of the journey, respect of the story, respect of the storytelling in every aspect. Everybody in the room is brought into that circle, whether they’re there for a day or whether they’re there for the entire journey. That helps to create the circle. It helps to strengthen that circle. MOLLY | It’s not to say that there haven’t been actors who haven’t been interested in this process. There are some artists [who] have been problematic and make it difficult. I don’t mean with conflict about the ideas or conflict

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about the character. All that’s great. That’s actually necessary in the rehearsal hall. SUE | It’s a unique situation for individuals who have worked a great deal. It can really be a unique situation, and the initial hesitation can honestly be surreal. “Can I really trust this?” And then there have been amazing artists who have felt, “Oh, my stars. This is for real. I can let a couple of these walls down.” It’s amazing and joyous to watch that happen. How has the collaborative relationship of a director, stage manager, and dramaturg worked for you inside and outside of a rehearsal? Not just with me; you have worked with many dramaturgs.

MOLLY | Well, it’s interesting. It seems to be different with each collaboration. Mark, before we did Mother Courage together, you and I met in New York for about three hours to talk about the research that you’d done. We had a fantastic conversation. I remember those conversations at the New York meeting and being very excited about the work you had done with casting and design. I remember working with you early on in rehearsals and the incredible trust you had in me to sort out the play itself. You asked me to share with the actors my understanding of the three eras that you were trying to connect: the 30 Years’ War era, during which Mother Courage occurs; connecting it to Brecht’s post-World War I, 30-year era between World Wars I and II; and our own 30 Years’ War in the Middle East from 1978, during the Jimmy Carter era, onward up to today. You entrusted that to me: to translate that in the midst of the rehearsal process. Molly, you also did that when we worked on the musical Cabaret together. I don’t know how much you remember of that process.

MOLLY | That’s exactly what I was thinking about, Mark. We were at a point back then in 2006 under President Bush when there was an incredible erosion of our civil rights in this country. And you were addressing this very question in that production. We did a lot of research together, looking at the Bill of Rights and our Constitution. We were raising questions about what was happening in our country versus what had happened during the 1930s with Hitler and the erosion of the rights of those countrymen at that point with Jewish and gay citizens. I would like to believe a lot

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of that ended up in the rehearsal process, reflected on the stage and having an impact on our audience. That reminds me of something you said recently in an interview about My Fair Lady: “In a world increasingly blown apart by the dynamics of the very rich and the very poor, this musical hits the sweet spot of our current awareness of class.” It seems every time you tackle a musical, there is some political dimension, some spike in the musical you are addressing. It’s not just for the sake of doing a musical, as many theatres do. You see something in it that’s American, that rare American phenomena of the musical. You see something much larger and something contemporary raising political issues. I have to bring this up. We’re in the midst of the 2015–2016 presidential debates right now, where issues about race, gender, immigration, and identity are at the forefront. What is it you see as particularly American that draws you to musical works right now?

MOLLY | Well, I think that these brilliant musicals were written by mostly men—and occasionally women—who were engaged in the great underlying issues of their time. I always think of musicals as “outsider art.” Often, people who are outside of the general population are writing the most potent American musicals, whether because of race, sexuality, ethnicity. Those are some of the greatest writers, whether it’s Rodgers and Hammerstein, Lin-Manuel Miranda, or Lerner and Loewe. They’re all “outsiders” looking in. From that perspective, if it’s a musical that stood the test of time, it is as much of an interpretive art to interpret them for American life today as it is for directors to interpret Shakespeare for today. And, Mark, I think you hit the nail on the head: Often what people are doing with the American musical is they’re just doing it. There isn’t a sense of vibrancy about the present moment. Cabaret was a thrilling turning point for me, being able to see what we could do in terms of the interpretation. We didn’t change a line of text, but it was “How do we talk about this moment in time through the lens of Cabaret? How do we talk about the fact that the Bush Administration is slowly and quickly taking away our rights? How do we see that in this musical?” We’re not saying America is Germany, but it was a call to awareness. Some audiences absolutely loved it, and, for some audiences, it completely angered them. It wasn’t the Cabaret that they were used to seeing. I thought it was a real high point that audiences were out there talking about it. I think the same thing just happened on our

production of Oliver! In London right now, one in twenty-five kids is homeless. The story of the rich and the poor is at its highest level since Dickens’ time. We really shifted into an Oliver! for 2015 with the nod to the Victorian and followed that through in every single area, whether it was the actors going to a multicultural London accent for some of the characters to Music Director Paul Sportelli changing some of the arrangements of the music, moving into a hip-hop feel in some of the songs, a gospel feel on another one of the songs. Taking us to 2015 was a bracing experience for our audience. Again: some people wanted their old Oliver!, and other people came in and said, “I can’t imagine it being done any other way.” The sturdiness and the explosiveness of the golden age of musicals is fascinating to me. The American musical is vital. It is energetic. It is pushy. It is life-giving. It is often about love, in one form or another. And it is about the explosive energy of what this country is about. Molly, I think you have answered wonderfully what draws you to the American musical. I’m going to move on to something perhaps of a more collaborative nature again. What are the most valuable skills that the other person has brought to you in your collaboration? How important has it been for you to have that long-term collaboration?

SUE | The storytelling and the vision. When something’s not working, I hear Molly’s voice in my head saying, “Where’s the story, where’s the story, where’s the story?” I find that focus, that vision, remarkable. The way that Molly approaches that vision and shares it is unique. It speaks volumes to how secure she is as a director, as a collaborator, and as an artist. MOLLY | And for me, Sue sees forward. She sees the whole scope of the project. She sees where we need to be at any given time and has an understanding if we’re behind. That ability to see the whole picture is really, really important to me. Sue is so on point as far as knowing and understanding where we are on problem areas that she can just go into a meeting and speak for me. And because of Sue’s understanding of all the other areas of theatre, she is able to take us forward in a big leap. In a big musical or on a new play, that’s essential to me. I trained as a stage manager. I find myself taking over, because I feel like the stage manager is not doing their job. And that’s actually frightening. I don’t do my best work then, because I’m trying to do their work as well. Believe me— that never happens with Sue.

SUE | But, for me, that’s the whole respect thing. Molly respects me and expects me to do my job. My job is to do anything I need to do for my director to be free to do their job. The bottom line is that there’s one vision, one voice, one focus in the room. There is one maestro in the room, and that’s the director. Have there been moments on productions that were challenges that you overcame together?

SUE | There’s never going to be a problem that we’re not going to overcome together. God help any problem in the universe that tries to come up against Molly Smith and Susan White. Is that fair to say, Molly? MOLLY | It’s true. I don’t know if Sue would ever want me to say this, but we’re both cancer survivors. For me, it’s 18 years. For Sue, is it nine years? SUE | It’s 12. I can say I feel perfectly confident speaking for Molly Smith when I say cancer picked the wrong two broads to attack. MOLLY | Amen. Speaking of invisible bonds…How can young directors and stage managers learn to work together? What advice do you have for them?

MOLLY | I think the biggest is that if you risk together, then you can trust, but you can’t get to trust unless you risk. Another piece is infinite respect for the other person and their skills. SUE | The strongest tool any director has is a stage manager they can trust; that is everything. MOLLY | Sue is my ears in the room, even when I’m not there. And that’s golden. SUE | It has to be. If there’s advice for young directors, it is to find the stage manager you trust and hang on to them. A good stage manager can make the director’s life easier. MOLLY | I think the other thing is for the director and stage manager not to allow any daylight to come between them. The strengths of any kind of deep collaboration like this is the ability, even if you disagree with things, to always come out in a united front. SUE | And for every stage manager in the world: if you don’t know who the maestro is, go to law school. You’re in the wrong line of work if you don’t know where the buck stops, and it does not stop anywhere but with your director.

How do you think your process has changed over the years, and what has the other person taught you as a result?

SUE | Every single time that I have the honor of stage managing for Molly, I hope I get better at it. By better at it, I mean facilitating her needs better every time. You strive for that, because if you’re doing this job, you learn every minute, every day. It’s a pleasure. Even at the most exhausted, even at the longest, most difficult situation, it’s a joy and a pleasure, and you want to get better at it. And what do I learn? I learn everything. Every day in every way. Molly has a way of handling situations with such respect and ease that every time I watch her do it, every time I see her interact, every time I see her focus, every time I see her directing, I’m learning, I’m learning, I’m learning, I’m learning. MOLLY | One of the reasons why I wanted to do this interview with Sue is because I think my secret weapon is Sue White. She’s the person who really makes the rehearsal hall spin. I know that if I walk in five minutes late, she will have been able to cover for me. If I’m not feeling well, she’ll figure out a way to change and reconfigure the rehearsal process. Sue is really, really smart and has infinite knowledge of the theatre. I think that’s one of the things that is always flowering in one way or another, as I watch the way Sue works. Whether it’s working with the sound designer or working with a lighting designer to make sure that we’re getting the best product, Sue is really there. She is one of the most sophisticated technicians as far as running a show that I’ve ever seen. There’s a delicacy and almost symphonic quality with the way she makes decisions on timing cues. This is something that a lot of people wouldn’t think about, but again, it informs and creates the rhythm of the play. I watched Sue do that time and again. It’s part of the dynamic of the show, and that’s one of the things that I have continued to learn from you, Sue. SUE | It’s very kind of you to say, but please know that I see that as my responsibility so that your incredible storytelling is supported. It’s astonishing: the plays, the things we do, the people we meet, the stuff you learn. It’s magical. I feel like it’s “Molly’s Magic Carpet Ride.” It takes you all these places. One day, there was a one-day benefit reading of 26 Pebbles. It was the most extraordinary day. The people we met that day…it was just, it was transformative. There’s the word.

MOLLY | Eric Ulloa’s play, 26 Pebbles, is about interviews he did with the community of Newtown, Conn., six months after the massacre of the children. A lot of the gun control people came to it. That was incredible because my partner, Suzanne Blue Star Boy, and I organized a March on Washington for Gun Control about three years ago. We formed relationships around that, and a number of people were at this reading, because we did it as NGOs to raise money for gun awareness programs. Sue had the best idea: that we should send the money to the different groups and say what we want you to do with this is to buy—what was it called? A thousand… SUE | Trigger locks. Children find a gun in their house, but if there’s a two-dollar trigger lock on that thing, it’s a paperweight. So, to the Bloomberg Organization, Gabby Gifford’s organization: just buy hundreds of thousands of trigger locks. Give them to every city hall and fire hall in this country and say, “Go and get a free trigger lock if it saves one life, if it saves one kid who finds a gun in their house.” That’s my idea of what should happen. MOLLY + MARK | A great idea! One last question. Molly, you have said: “If you don’t feed yourself, you can’t feed others.” You both are constantly working; what is your secret? Can you share what you do to nourish and rejuvenate yourselves?

SUE | The work is joy. The artistic nourishment of the work is absolute joy. It’s what I was talking about before—just never knowing what the day or the moment’s going to bring. It’s absolutely self-rejuvenating. It’s magical. MOLLY | The work is always intense and ongoing, so every summer Suzanne and I are at our cabin in Alaska. At that time, I don’t bring a cell phone or have a computer. I’m completely off the grid for two to four weeks. SUE | And, in that guise, when I’m not stage managing for Molly Smith, I’m retired and in Pennsylvania. MOLLY | Growing tomatoes. SUE | Growing tomatoes in the summer and watching the snow fall in the winter. And then Molly calls and says, “We’re doing a show,” and I say, “Okay.” There are very few people for whom I will leave my retirement home in Pennsylvania, and on that very short list is Molly Smith.

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LAURA From thePAONE moment one enters a From the moment enters a studio Gattelli where studio whereoneChristopher Christopher Gattelli and Lou Castro are rehearsing, it is and are rehearsing, clear theyLou haveCastro been working together for aitlong time. Theisself-proclaimed “brothers” have forged a decadeclear they have been working long collaboration as Choreographer and Associate together for a long time. Thea fateful Choreographer, respectively, ever since email changed the course of their careers. Starting outself-proclaimed as dancers, both men“brothers” rose throughhave the ranks and eventually to choreography. Over the forgedtransitioned a decade-long collaboration past decade, they have created the steps for dancers as Choreographer and in musicals such as Altar Boyz andAssociate 13. Their work is probably most recognizable in the high-kicking, backChoreographer, respectively, ever flipping newsboys in the crowd-pleasing Newsies. since a fateful email changed the Gattelli and Castro bounce ideas off each other, finish course their careers. Starting each other’sof sentences, and, perhaps above all, have fun—which is a testament to the fortitude of their out as dancers, both men rose collaboration. They have built successful careers based onthrough their abilitythe to communicate only steps and ranks andnot eventually ideas but also with each other. This is a partnership choreography. thattransitioned lasts long after to a show closes. WatchingOver a musical choreographed by Gattelli and a lot like the past decade, theyCastro haveiscreated listening to the two of them speak: it is fascinating, the stepsand, formore dancers in musicals exhilarating, than anything, full of a special sense of camaraderie. such as Altar Boyz, 13, and, most Lou, what do you the role of associate recently, for view Channing Tatum in choreographer to be in relation to the the Coen Brothers’ movie Hail, choreographer during the rehearsal process? Caesar!. Their work is probably most LOU | As an associate choreographer, you wear many hats. You areinthe one to arrive at the recognizable thefirst high-kicking, studio. You are the last one to leave. Because I ipping in things the crowdamback-fl fully aware thatnewsboys he has other on his mind, one of my jobs is to make his day better pleasing Disney musical Newsies. BY

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and more organized. That starts with looking through his script and making sure that the pages are organized, that new pages are put in, Gattelli andthat Castro bounce ideas that old pages he has notes on are folded, and that everything goes a certain way. off each other, ﬁnish each other’sThat’s just one aspect of what an associate does.

sentences, and, perhaps above all,

We are also the “venting pillows.” Sometimes have fun—which is a testament to the things can get a little frustrating and people need of to talk out. So we talk and fortitude theirit collaboration. They communicate with others to see how we can have successful careers based help the built situation.

on their ability to communicate not

Associates also have to communicate with stage regarding onlymanagement steps and ideas butthe alsoneeds withand wants of the director and choreographer. We other. is a partnership areeach an outlet forThis the cast because the cast is fully aware that the director, choreographer, that lasts long after a show closes. and musical director are in a zone. We are used to create.aIt’s my jobchoreographed to screw up before Watching musical we teach people in the room. It’s my job to by up Gattelli and is a lot like mess for him. It’sCastro not a glamorous life. To belistening an associate, you have to love what you to the two of them speak: do because you don’t really get any sort of it is fascinating, exhilarating, and, recognition.

more than anything, of aand special Both of you transitioned fromfull dancing performing choreography. How did each of you sense oftocamaraderie. make that shift?

Lou, what do you view the role of associate choreographer to be in relation to the choreographer during the rehearsal process? LOU | As an associate choreographer, you wear many hats. You are the first one to arrive at the studio. You are the last one to leave. Because I am fully aware that Chris has other things on his mind, one of my jobs is to make his day better and more organized. That starts with looking through his script and making sure that the pages are organized, that new pages are put in, that old pages that he has notes on are folded, and that everything goes a certain way. That’s just one aspect of what an associate does. We are also the “venting pillows.” Sometimes things can get a little frustrating and people need to talk it out. So we talk and communicate with others to see how we can help the situation. Associates also have to communicate with stage management regarding the needs and wants of the director and choreographer. We are an outlet for the cast, because the cast is fully aware that the director, choreographer, and musical director are in a zone. We are used to create. It’s my job to screw up before we teach people in the room. It’s my job to mess up for him. It’s not a glamorous life. To be an associate, you have to love what you do, because you don’t really get any sort of recognition.

Both of you transitioned from dancing and performing to choreography. How did each of you make that shift? CHRIS | I was in Cats at the time, and I did a benefit for Broadway Cares/EFA’s Gypsy of the Year. A few months later, Tom Viola asked me to do the opening number for their Easter Bonnet Competition the following season. It was the first at the New Amsterdam, and we brought back some original Ziegfeld Girls, including Doris Eaton Travis. From there, these crazy fates aligned. Rosie O’Donnell was in the audience, she liked the number, and asked to do part of it on her talk show. A week or so later, she needed a choreographer and said, “Why don’t we use the guy that just did the number with Doris?” Fate intervened, and I started working for her show. The experience of working on Rosie’s show was an opportunity I’m still grateful for, and started a ball rolling much earlier than I expected. I performed for a little bit after, but the bug hit hard once I was on the other side of the table and knew there was nothing else I’d rather do. LOU | I was doing the national tour of The King and I in 2004 and 2005. I got back from tour, and three days later I found in my inbox an email from Chris saying, “I heard you’re back and I have enjoyed working with you in the past. I have an interesting project that I would like some help on if you are interested, please reply.” That project was called Altar Boyz. I wasn’t expecting anything. This was more of an “Are you available? Can you help?” Altar Boyz was actually an interesting process. Chris asked me to be a part of it after it was already open; he had a conflict. So I had to learn choreography with the Dance Captain and set it on the new company in about a month. That’s when he offered me a Dance Supervisor position.

At the conclusion of that first project together, Altar Boyz, did you think that you would work together again? CHRIS | Without question. Lou has a wonderful work ethic, clarity of movement, energy, passion, and discipline. Once I saw him take care of Altar Boyz, I knew I wanted to work with him for as long as he would want to work with me. LOU | Since then, he has kept me so busy, which is a sexy problem! I am not complaining. It has opened this fascinating world of learning.

Are the two of you involved in the casting process together? CHRIS | It depends on the project, and usually takes the lead from our director, but we’re involved together as much as we can be. We have the same sensibility and expectations. If one of us is there and the other isn’t, we always know exactly whom the other would choose.

When you are teamed together, what is your pre-rehearsal process in working with the director? CHRIS | It varies, depending on different directors. There are some that just want to have a oneon-one with me and then I bring the information to Lou. But if I can, I bring Lou into the process from day one so that he can hear directly what they want and be immediately on the same page. That saves us a step. Then we head into preproduction. SPRING 2016 | SDC JOURNAL

What is your preproduction preparation process? Do you create the steps together, or does Chris work on his own first and bring them in and teach them to Lou? CHRIS | It starts with the collaboration with the director. We’ll talk to the director and discuss what they would like each number to be. “What storytelling can we accomplish through them?” “Where do you like them to start and finish?” “Stylistically, are we making it more theatrical or more organic?” We get as much of that from the director as possible. Then we usually start talking through it and writing out a story, beat by beat. I write it all out, like dialogue. We decide which moments Lou Castro + Christopher Gattelli PHOTO Walter McBride

or if we are over-choreographing something, or if we are under-choreographing something. We just want to make sure these moments that we are creating do make sense and do form a story. CHRIS | I do tend to get lost in my own head a bit, overthink and overanalyze. Lou is great at saying, “No, that’s actually really good, keep going, don’t stop!” or “Yeah, that’s kind of crappy, please stop.”

Newsies is everywhere. The Disney musical ran on Broadway for two and a half years, and the national tour is out on the road. The film is so well loved by many people. Were you beholden, in working on the stage version, to the film? CHRIS | Well, I knew there were the diehard fans of the movie and I was one of them. In choreographing the stage adaptation, I was trying to do the fans of the film proud and honor what people loved about it but hopefully push it forward in our own way. It helped that with the reworking of the story by Harvey [Fierstein], new material by Alan [Menken] and Jack [Feldman], and the overall vision of Jeff [Calhoun], it essentially felt like a new piece. It was a little easier to put our own stamp on it.

Was that a show where you felt you needed to research the time period in which it takes place? If so, what does that research look like for a choreographer? What kind of information are you looking for? CHRIS | For Newsies, there were certain period elements, but Alan Menken’s score had a more contemporary feel. We decided to work off of what their internal feeling was at a particular moment in the show and to physicalize that in order to align with Alan’s work so that they could support each other. The idea was to mix classical and contemporary vocabulary. Let it feel like a classic musical but honor the talents of this particular cast and this generation, and what they have to offer. I have always loved the idea that both groups of boys lined up—a real group of boys in 1899, trying to make a place for themselves through hard work, and our boys finding their places as performers through hard work. Most of the research for this particular show wasn’t as much physical but more about the times, history, and situations, and using that to influence the boys and let them connect with the original newsboys. Showing them pictures and telling them stories.

What are your responsibilities to the tours currently on the road? LOU | I’m so fortunate. Disney keeps me on as an associate and it is one of the best jobs in the country. My job is to recast, maintain, and make necessary adjustments/ changes to the show while keeping Chris’s original intention and integrity intact, as well as stage press events. It’s great that I get to see how audiences are taking in the show in different cities and in different venues. I’m able to give input and advice to the actors on the choreography and the energy.

to dance. Then we just throw a bunch of stuff out there and see what feels best. It’s a lot of exploration and experimentation. LOU | Chris throws a lot of questions at me: “Does including this moment in the choreography make sense?” We stop and we look at the actual story of what and why and how they are dancing. We always keep ourselves in check to make sure that the root of our creativity is story based. What is fascinating and kind of beautiful is we do have the ability to stop and go back to our notes and see if we are not doing justice to the story,

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With Newsies, all of the boys we hired—even from Paper Mill Playhouse and Broadway—were their own little superstars, their own little superheroes. You can’t mimic or copy that. With every new cast member that comes in, we have to change the show around and alter it to their advantage. So, it’s kind of like a dance troupe where everyone covers each other. It keeps the show fresh, and it keeps the cast happy and working. Their minds and energies are never, ever stagnant. I just got back from Newsies about two or three days ago to put in two new people. I had to change the show around to accommodate the new actors’ abilities, shift some tracks around, change who gets which props from where, re-choreograph prop material, etc. It’s a beast in itself to manage that in an associate choreographer’s head.

Before Newsies, you worked together on 13, a 2008 musical following the life of a teenage boy as he moves to a new school and prepares for his bar mitzvah. Did your process change when working with the young performers in that show? CHRIS | Not that much. I think that when you’re working with younger actors, it’s important to give them the same respect, treat them like adults, expect the same work ethic and just have that dialogue with them. It didn’t necessarily change in any way other than they have a lot more energy and stamina. It was also great because they were living the show in real time. They were 13. So it was about letting them dance the way they would, letting them express themselves, tapping into what made them them. They were great to work with and they were so much fun.

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Newsies on Broadway Deen van Meer c/o Disney

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I always say that we’re the co-pilot; we’re there to help steer. We’re able to help [the director] in any way they need. ” CHRIS

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He trusts me to challenge him, to create with him, and to ultimately maintain the original creation and the integrity of the story.. ” LOU

Chris, how has your process as a choreographer changed over the years? CHRIS | When I started out, I was almost overly prepared for things. I had my i’s dotted and my t’s crossed before I went in the room. Charts, graphs, dioramas—I’m kidding of course. On one hand, it was helpful that I went in so well prepared, but sometimes that preparation backed me into a corner. If I was working with a director and they wanted a different take on something, it took a lot more backpedaling to get me to a place aligned with the new idea that they wanted. That said, it gave me a little more confidence to at least be ready. Now I try to be a little more open and a little more patient with myself. I still do all of that preparation but in a different way; it’s in regards to research and story. If I have to put a temporary step in for a number in front of the cast, I don’t feel as uncomfortable about it, because I’m making sure the clarity of the story is being told first. I take care of the steps later. Every director works in different ways. I try to be as valuable and flexible as I can with them, so I can help their process. My goal is always to disappear in a way and hopefully make it really feel seamless for whomever I’m working with to help complete their vision.

Lou, what have been your biggest surprises? LOU | The biggest surprises have always been the most positive things. One that’s always vivid in my head was the first preview of Newsies on Broadway, when they started getting standing ovations in the middle of the show after “Seize the Day.” Newsies was supposed to have just a 10-week run, so we were literally just doing it because we loved the title. For people to embrace the boys and the story was great. The roar when the overture started was tear-jerking. After “Seize the Day,” when we saw that first person stand up, and other people started to follow, Chris and I both started crying tears of joy. The person sitting to my right, the person sitting to my left—they were all elated. It was a really special event that I won’t ever forget. That evening was also special because there were about 12 Broadway debuts in the cast. We were just very happy for everyone who was involved, backstage, on stage, and in the house. We were just very appreciative.

In rehearsal for the Broadway production of Newsies PHOTO Lou Castro

How have you overcome challenges together? LOU | We talk. We communicate and are extremely honest with each other. I know him so well. It’s the associate’s job to know their boss really well. Choreographers are in a different mindset. They are the ones who are vulnerable because their names are on that title. The associates have to be sensitive to that fact. Chris and I talk privately, and when we talk, it’s very passionate. We listen to each other and we very rarely argue. He trusts me to challenge him, to create with him, and to ultimately maintain the original creation and the integrity of the story.

How can young choreographers learn to work with directors? LOU | Everyone has to be a storyteller. When you are a choreographer, your job is to understand that a director is organizing a lot of elements at the same time, and he’s relying on you to help create choreography to support the story. As long as there’s narrative in every step that you give a dancer and there’s a purpose, the collaboration between the director and the choreographer is going to be graceful and tasteful. You never, ever want to steer from the storyline. The position of the associate is to be the choreographer’s right arm—and a pair of ears, and eyes, and an extra body—so he or she can watch while the associate teaches the steps and also suggests ideas to help any creative member—whether it be the choreographer or the director. Being by Chris’s side and listening to him has helped me understand how important communication is when creating material that serves the purpose and sensibility of the actors and the project.

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CHRIS | It’s all about collaborating. It’s being patient and open to possibilities. It’s about listening to [the director] and being prepared on your end as much as possible so you can be there for them. I always say that we’re the co-pilot; we’re there to help them steer. It’s about trust and trying things that may be out of your comfort zone and being okay with not succeeding. That’s why even though I’m starting to direct as well, I will always want to solely choreograph and work with different directors. Since there is no formula for what we do, I love watching the way different directors work and how they approach their work, and finding new ways to work with different people. It’s incredibly inspiring and a gratifying feeling that you were able to contribute to a greater piece.

Chris, what has Lou taught you? CHRIS | How can I explain it? We have this unspoken dialogue. We know what the other is thinking. We finish each other’s sentences. We really understand each other. When I worked with him as a dancer, I could tell he was all about integrity. He has a clarity and focus as a performer, and he’s the same behind the table. We play good cop and bad cop really well. He has his own way of working that helps get results, and we’re able to have a great time in the process. So does the cast. It makes my job a lot easier to know that I can trust him and leave him with people and situations and know that I don’t have to worry about it.

Final thoughts? LOU | It’s a celebratory thing to get people gifts for opening night, and I always say the gift was actually the work. Not only do I get to spend time with an amazing choreographer, I get to spend time with my friend. I get to spend time with someone who has grown into my big brother. We have such a kooky, weird relationship. I am a huge believer that work should be fun, and you might as well work with someone who is actually going to make you laugh, especially when you are in charge of creating something that’s going to be presented in front of the world and criticized.

CHRIS | We work together, but he’s also like my little brother. There’s a relationship and there’s a trust. I can tell him anything, and we can make complete fools out of ourselves and each other. There is nothing I would rather do than create and hopefully entertain, affect, inspire, but once you put work out there, it is reviewed, critiqued, and people will have opinions, but the creative part is over. My time in the rehearsal room with Lou is the most precious to me, because it’s the only time when we just get to be. To play. It’s the joy of small discoveries, the light bulb moments, the hard work. All the reasons why we do it. If we get tired, we stop and laugh. For me, that’s the most free, special time of any production or process.

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Serge Lido / Sipa Press Jerome Robbins (LEFT) + George Balanchine (RIGHT) in rehearsal with New York City Ballet, 1974 PHOTO

list of musicals as examples of this star-vehicle phenomenon, including “Mary Martin in South Pacific (1949) and The Sound of Music (1951); Ethel Merman in Annie Get Your Gun (1946), Call Me Madam (1950), and Gypsy (1959); [and] Zero Mostel in Fiddler on the Roof (1964)” (507). However, musicals that appeared after this period function differently in regard to their stars, and as Hirsch notes, in the past few decades it has become clear that the “star vehicle is no longer the dominant mold for musicals.” He argues that “the need for largerthan-life stars of the past has decreased” since “the staging of musicals has grown increasingly fluent, cinematic, and technically sophisticated” (507).

The Star Director: Exploring the Dynamics of Musicals When Their Biggest Stars Work Behind the Scenes BY MARY

JO LODGE, LAFAYETTE COLLEGE

aving published invited essays in the two previous issues, we are happy to present our first peer-reviewed article with this issue of the Journal. Associate Professor

Mary Jo Lodge delves into the shifting conceptualization of the “star” in musical theatre, entertaining the notion of the director or director/choreographer as a behind-the-scenes star to replace the actors of the past. Tracing the star phenomenon through recent history, Lodge investigates the increased power and intertextuality resulting from the combined roles of director/choreographer and the rise of the megamusical as potential factors leading to this new star status for directors of musicals. INTRODUCED + EDITED BY ANNE

FLIOTSOS + ANN M. SHANAHAN

Common beliefs suggest that for a stage or screen musical to attract an audience, it must feature a star performer. Indeed, the lengthy list of television, film, and pop stars who currently tread the boards in musicals on Broadway and in the West End, and on screen in major musical films like Into the Woods (2014), suggests that with or even without musical theatre training, stars are the key to a musical’s success. Historically, stage and screen musicals have been described as a “star-driven form,” and very early musicals, which tended to be weak on plot and structure, often showcased charismatic stars like George M. Cohan or Marilyn Miller (Hirsch 507). Theatre historian Foster Hirsch points out that this trend continued as the musical developed, and that “from 1945 at least through the mid-sixties a series of memorable performances were by stars headlining tailor-made vehicles,” and he goes on to mention a long

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Musicals are built on a foundation of collaboration since their very form requires that numerous creative artists, including composers, librettists, designers, and choreographers, work together. While it seems that the many people required to bring together the musical’s disparate forms of expression might dilute the attention paid to one performer, musicals do still have stars, though perhaps not in the traditional sense of a dominant performer. In fact, while the so-called “stunt casting” of television stars in Broadway and West End musicals suggests that the star system is alive and well, there are times when audiences embrace musicals with few or even no stars in the cast, particularly in stage productions. These musicals are not, however, truly “starless”; they instead typically feature a star in a crucial behind-the-scenes role, in a significantenough capacity that audiences will come to see the execution of his or her work, even without seeing the actual artist. This essay examines how musicals function when the specter of the star not seen—typically as director/choreographer or director—outshines the onstage performers. In today’s world, where a large percentage of the theatre-going audience would likely be unable to name any currently practicing musical theatre director or director/choreographer, even though they may be big fans of that director’s shows, the phenomenon of the behind-the-scenes creative figure as the production’s star can be hard to fathom. Yet the director, who has dominated much of the creative process in the theatre since the time of Stanislavsky, at least, has functioned as star in a unique way in the American musical, particularly in the past fifty years or so. Before exploring the director and director/ choreographer as the alternative “star” of the musical, it will be useful to examine the

removal of the star performer from center stage. Several factors have contributed to this shift for the stage musical, in particular, including the rise of the director/ choreographer and the concept musical. Also, musicals’ increasingly long runs now require that stars must be replaceable, since shows can run long enough—twenty-seven years, in the case of current Broadway record holder Phantom of the Opera—that even adult actors can age out of roles. In fact, because performers in musicals must perform live night after night and may encounter illness or injury, the stage requires that understudies or swings be available to step into a role at any given performance, which intrinsically diminishes the power that the now replaceable star actor wields. Film scholar Jeremy Butler notes that iconic movies would be unquestionably altered if different players had starred: What if, for example, the characterperformance signifiers created for the role of Scarlett O’Hara (Gone with the Wind, 1939) by Vivian Leigh had been generated by Bette Davis? Or what if Cary Grant, instead of Dustin Hoffman, had played Ratso Rizzo (Midnight Cowboy, 1969)? The shift in meaning that these hypothetical recastings cause tells us something about the signifying power of those particular stars. (126) In films, as Butler notes, the unique presence of a particular star shapes the piece in significant ways: there is only one specific version of the character. On stage, particularly in the longrunning Broadway musical, there must be more than one version of a character, as it can be played by the understudies or subsequent casts, who will shape the role to their unique persona, at least slightly, no matter how much they strive to preserve the “original” performance. This inherently weakens the power of the star. In fact, in today’s economy, true star vehicles often don’t make financial sense, since the ability to sell tickets is closely aligned to the presence of one person. A recent example of this challenge occurred with Broadway’s If/Then (2014). Faced with a future without star Idina Menzel, who was headed out on her first world concert tour, producers opted not to fill her role with another performer, and the show closed in just under a year. Ticket sales had dropped previously when Menzel’s understudy took over for a brief period. Who are the most likely stars of this new era of musical theatre if not the actors? At varying points in its history, one might have argued that the producer was the true star of the musical. For instance, Florenz Ziegfeld and Cameron Mackintosh shaped the shows they produced in specific, unique, and lasting ways and have been lauded on film and on stage, respectively, for doing so— Ziegfeld in the

1936 film The Great Ziegfeld and Mackintosh in a 1998 celebratory live performance recorded on video, Hey, Mr. Producer! The Musical World of Cameron Mackintosh. However, though producers obviously still play a major role in the musical theatre, skyrocketing costs have effectively ended the era of the solo producer of a musical. The need for a team of producers makes it harder for a star producer to emerge. In addition, the very recent introduction into the theatre of crowdfunding, which uses small financial contributions from a large number of backers as a producing method, means musicals are becoming more democratic. The recent Broadway show Allegiance (2015) partially used crowdfunding, which, while unlikely to entirely replace traditional producing methods, does not foster the dominance of the iconic, star producer of years past. In lieu of the actor or producer as the star of the modern musical, Hirsch notes that, “Without stars, musical theater has continued to reinvent itself. A composer like Andrew Lloyd Webber or Stephen Sondheim, or a show’s concept, is now more likely than a headliner to be a musical’s financial ace in the hole” (507). Composers such as Webber and Sondheim do wield considerable clout in the modern musical theatre, and they certainly qualify as behindthe-scenes creative stars, but can the concept, or guiding idea for the show, become the star attraction of a musical? The concept typically falls under the purview of the director and/ or the writers. The concept for a show can be written into its structure, and the director is typically charged with bringing this concept to life and shaping the entire production to support it. In the case of a revival, the director may actually re-create a show by layering a new concept onto the existing material. The concept is especially critical in the musical, particularly because, starting around 1970, a new theatrical form developed that would become known as the concept musical. Most musical theatre historians credit star director Hal Prince, collaborating with Sondheim and playwright George Furth, with inventing the concept musical on the landmark 1970 show Company, which loosely joined together a series of scenes and songs united by the concept of marriage. In Clive Barnes’ original New York Times review of Company, he noted that in the show, “it is left to the director to find a variety of pace and character, and to impose a satisfactory unity on the show,” an apt description of both the role and importance of the director in the process for this type of show. Concept musicals have become a key part of the musical theatre canon over the past forty years, with hits such as Pippin, A Chorus Line, and Assassins categorized as such.

Despite these successes, not all critics are enamored of the form, or indeed, of the modern prominence of the concept, which has moved the director squarely to the center of the theatrical process, particularly in musicals. Prominent British theatre critic Sheridan Morley has remarked that, “We live in a directors’ theatre, and while I am not suggesting that it is always worse than the actors’ theatre in which I grew up, I do think this pre-eminence has become unhealthy.…Now, directors call all the shots as in movies, and they are usually as desperate as actors to become stars” (41). Morley takes his criticism of the director’s concept further, saying, “more often than not (the) director wishes to be the dominant star in the rehearsal room. The idea of letting the author speak uninterrupted by any ‘concept’ from the director is now largely unknown” (41). Since concept musicals exist, however, because of the important contributions of their directors, Morley’s assessment fails to take into account that many modern musicals thrive because of their directors and concepts. Certainly, the past fifteen years on Broadway have seen radical directorial concepts emerge, particularly for successful revivals of musicals, from the Deaf West production of Big River, helmed by director/choreographer Jeff Calhoun, which incorporated sign language, to the actor/musician performances in the John Doyle-directed (2005) Sweeney Todd and Company (2006) revivals. Historically, then, the concept has defined the musicals of the post-star-driven era. Concept musicals, by their very nature, increased the prominence of the director of the musical at the same time that the director/choreographer was emerging as the field’s dominant creative force. Denny Martin Flinn, in his 1997 book Musical: A Grand Tour, goes so far as to call Broadway director/choreographers “the foundation of the modern American musical,” singling out the particular contributions of Agnes de Mille, Michael Kidd, Gower Champion, Bob Fosse, Jerome Robbins, and Michael Bennett (304). The musical, especially in the theatre, was primed to play out the dynamic that Morley lamented in terms of elevating the director or director/choreographer to unique star status. In fact, as the era of the concept musical gave way to that of the spectacledriven megamusical in the 1980s, director and director/choreographer dominance was reinforced. Author and educator John Kenrick explains, “In megamusicals, star performers were unnecessary—the production was the star, making these shows attractions regardless of who was in the cast” (341). The emergence of the megamusical alone, however, does not explain why the director, or specifically, the director/choreographer, and not the writers of the musical, emerged as the modern musical’s dominant star. Certainly, musicals SPRING 2016 | SDC JOURNAL PEER-REVIEWED SECTION

would not exist without the contributions of the composer, librettist, and lyricist, but the director, as interpreter of the material, arguably has the final say in its presentation. Butler posits that film theorists have always foregrounded the work of the director, something that is, perhaps, also happening in the stage musical. He states that: proponents of the auteur theory have seldom discussed the star as “auteur,” preferring instead to privilege the director as “author” and to discuss his or her mise-en-scène, narrative structure and thematics. This emphasis on the director over other members of the production team derives, a la Kuleshov, from a conception of the “artist” as the man or woman in control of film technique (which is principally the director). (117) Indeed, the modern director of the musical, and particularly the director/choreographer, is in control of the stage technique. In fact, in many ways, the story of the musical, particularly on Broadway, is the tale of the director, and then the director/choreographer, who gradually ascended in power to rival and eventually surpass composer-lyricistlibrettist teams in both fame and audiencedrawing power. This ascent happened because integrated musicals and then concept musicals took center stage during the ever-evolving golden age of the musical and beyond. With these new types of musicals, director/ choreographers became the “stars” of the form in a very real sense, and perhaps it was their dual role as director and choreographer that made them so. Butler notes that intertextuality, a concept he borrows from theorist Richard Dyer, is key in understanding stars, explaining: …stars are separated from non-star actors by their presence in more than one area of the general media textually. If an actor is only known for his or her character—as with many soap opera actors—then he or she has no intertextuality and is not truly a star. A star must appear in numerous texts which play off one another. Thus, one could say that a star is defined by his or her intertextuality, by the ability to correlate various media texts. (125) Perhaps the multiple roles a director/ choreographer serves on a single production inherently fulfill this intertextuality—the artist is a choreographer and a director, and as such, these roles, particularly if he or she has fulfilled them on multiple shows, can “play off one another” to cement the director/ choreographer’s star status (Butler 125). Intertextuality might explain why, beyond director/choreographers, some other theatre artists in different roles ascend to star status. Certainly, many of the artists who can fill two major roles on a production have achieved star status, such as lyricist/composers Stephen

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Sondheim and Jason Robert Brown. When Alex Timbers burst onto the Broadway scene, both writing the book for and directing Bloody, Bloody Andrew Jackson in 2010, he seemed poised for star status on Broadway, though he has currently left the theatre world to play another dual role, as writer and producer for the award-winning Amazon television series Mozart in the Jungle. Other creators skilled in three or more areas, including Oscar Hammerstein II as director/librettist/lyricist, Julie Taymor as director/librettist/designer, and Lin-Manuel Miranda as composer/ lyricist/librettist/performer, have received particular acclaim and star status. In fact, Miranda presents an interesting case study, since the four roles he fills for Hamilton have arguably caused him to eclipse the star status the show’s talented director, Thomas Kail, might otherwise have claimed. It may be that Miranda’s intertextuality, as a theatrical jackof-all-trades on Hamilton, rather than Kail’s singular contribution as director, has caused him to garner the bulk of the praise for the show. How can we further understand the impact of these multiple roles, and the layered talents they require, in generating a new star status for the director/choreographer? One way might be found in how stardom, which is easy to recognize but more difficult to define, functions. Commenting on stars in the field of publishing, Hugh Look says, “Full stardom only happens when that quality is widely recognized by the public and rewarded by attention and by purchase of their output. In turn, this leads to perhaps the most important star quality: power” (13). Indeed, it is the element of power that elevated director/choreographers to be the true stars of the musical, for they control the show’s concept and its physical execution, in terms of both movement and visual design. In addition, as the artist who ultimately chooses a cast (including the dancers) for a musical, the director/choreographer can consolidate his or her power by the decisions he or she makes in casting. Jerome Robbins, for instance, famously cast unknowns in his original stage production of West Side Story, a risky move that guaranteed that the director/ choreographer—and his concept—would be the star of the production. Alternatively, a director can also take an opposite approach and cast a number of “name” actors, which in effect dilutes the power of a single performer in the same way the power of the producer is diluted on musicals with multiple producers. Still, power in the theatre is unique. One can wield it unchecked, as producer David Merrick famously and sometimes controversially did, but it rarely can be sustained unless it is supported by true creative talent. In other words, it was not enough for Fosse or Robbins or Bennett, for instance, to consolidate his power as his career progressed—each also had to be able to consistently produce a theatrical

product that was innovative, inventive, and competitive with the work that others were producing on Broadway. Regardless of how the director/choreographer approaches casting, or the ultimate success of the approach, one can view the overall development of the director/choreographer position as, in many ways, a chronicle of power—power that has helped secure star status for many in the position. Nearly all Broadway director/choreographers began their careers as dancers, and then became choreographers. As dancers, they initially found themselves in a relatively powerless position in a Broadway production—in part, historically, because of the total allegiance that the early “dance directors,” as they then were known, demanded of them. In her recent dance history book Ballerina, Deirdre Kelly credits George Balanchine, the earliest model for the Broadway director/choreographer, as well as the head of the School of American Ballet and the New York City Ballet, with “intensify[ing] the tyranny of the artistic director” (129). Balanchine’s working style had its foundations in the ballet world, and Suzanne Gordon’s ballet exposé, Off Balance, which refers to Balanchine as “a dictator,” reinforced this notion that dancers had little power in their interactions with him (Gordon 130). Eventually, certain dancers started to choreograph, often when their days as active Broadway dancers had ended. They then came to believe that choreographing was not the only creative contribution they wished to make on a show, and through varying means, they sought and were given the power to both direct and choreograph a Broadway musical. Director/ choreographer Graciela Daniele states: I think that…choreographers are very much directors of musicals, even if they don’t have the credit.…I think that the difference that I perceived once I started working as a director was that many times the choreographer’s job, especially when you’re first starting out, is considered “the bottom of the barrel.” As a choreographer, not anymore, but at the beginning, it felt like the writers and designers and the directors are all at the top and the choreographer is at the bottom. (Lodge 148) Daniele, like Robbins, Bennett, and a host of other director/choreographers before her, speaks of the dissatisfaction she felt with doing the less powerful job of just choreographer. Because noted director/choreographers Robbins, Fosse, and Bennett were molded, at least in part, in the image of Balanchine before them, they seemed to have emulated his dictator-like demand for total control of a production—and its performers. Certainly, Robbins, Fosse, and Bennett, at least, appear to have desired additional control of the artistic works with which they became involved. All,

including Fosse, most notably, went on to become not just director/choreographers, but writers and/or conceivers. In combining these roles, they seem to embody the stage version of the auteur: that is, the theatre piece represents their unique creative vision, not just as director or choreographer, or even as writer, but as the singular visionary artist in what is, otherwise, a collaborative medium. In this role as auteur (and perhaps star), the artist tries to fully present his or her total work of art by being solely in charge of as many aspects of the production as possible. Director/ choreographer Patricia Birch asserts that when one person serves as writer, director, and choreographer of a single piece, he or she has moved beyond director/choreographer to “visionary” (Lodge 141). Serving as director/ choreographer seems to be a key element of this visionary auteur role: while some might call the aforementioned Miranda, in Hamilton, an example of an auteur because, indeed, he wrote every part of the show and stars in it, one could argue that Thomas Kail, as director, and Andy Blankenbuehler, as choreographer, have control equal to that of Miranda in shaping the production and its concept, casting, and staging. Robbins, Bennett, and Fosse, as true auteurs, created some of the most iconic musicals in the history of the form. The successes of their many shows, including the works on which they most clearly demonstrated their auteur role—Robbins’ West Side Story, Fosse’s Pippin, and Bennett’s A Chorus Line—is undeniable. Still, the total auteur can face challenges. For example, by the time Fosse’s famous flop Big Deal (1986) premiered, Fosse was not only serving as sole writer, director, and choreographer, but he also selected preexisting songs that he wove into the storyline he created, effectively eliminating the need for a Broadway composer or lyricist. In effect, he filled those roles himself, even though he did not write the music. In the process, he removed the need to work with any other collaborator who could pull power and focus from his artistic vision. Of note, Fosse also cast mostly unknowns in the show, choosing not to anchor it with well-known Broadway talent. Big Deal, however, ran for just sixty-nine performances, illustrating the risks that stage auteurs can face. Susan Stroman later followed a very similar path, though with far greater success, with her breakout hit, the Tony Award-winning Contact (2000). Stroman conceived, directed, and choreographed Contact to preexisting music, though she did collaborate with book writer/co-conceiver John Weidman, thus diluting her power a bit more than Fosse’s, and perhaps gaining more potential for success in the process. Robbins’ success as an auteur is perhaps most clearly epitomized by his defection to the ballet world, where he also effectively became the sole creative artist, since his ballets allowed him to completely control all aspects of the production and to select preexisting music or

to have music composed to his specifications. Also, Michael Bennett, as early as 1973, was credited as writer/director/choreographer for Seesaw, and in 1975 was credited for his concept/direction and choreography for A Chorus Line—which seemed to suggest that he was responsible for everything the audience saw on stage. Thus, even though Bennett had not actually written the book or music, it was all his idea. Clearly, in controlling the concept, direction, and choreography, much like Robbins did for West Side Story, Bennett provided visionary leadership to become what one might call the star of the production. Of course, even though the changes in the musical itself over the past few decades seem to have forever altered the balance of power in their creation and execution away from performers and writers to directors and particularly to talented “star” director/ choreographers, not every successful Broadway director/choreographer works as an auteur. While the stage auteurs mentioned above are acknowledged by nearly every musical theatre historian and every musical theatre textbook as the “stars” of their times, it is more difficult to assess whether currently practicing director/ choreographers will follow their same trajectory without the distance of time. Certainly the fact that director/choreographers Casey Nicholaw, currently represented on Broadway with three shows (and in rehearsal for a fourth, Tuck Everlasting), and Jerry Mitchell, represented with two, are helming multiple long-running, award-winning Broadway shows provides strong evidence that both are true stars—but it remains to be seen if they will follow the paths of the auteurs described above. Indeed, the dual roles of director and choreographer may provide enough intertextuality for behind-thescenes stars to emerge on musicals without those artists also needing to write, conceive, or design. For instance, Susan Stroman continues to be a vital Broadway force and, indeed, a star director/choreographer, even though postContact, she has returned to a more traditional musical production model of collaborating with a full creative team, including a composer and lyricist. Whether or not these leading artists will ultimately be considered auteurs in the same sense as their predecessors, modern director/ choreographers on Broadway have bright futures ahead, which helps these behind-thescenes stars to glow as brightly as suns in the absence of the star performers who once anchored the musical on stage and on screen.

MARY JO LODGE is an associate professor of Theatre at Lafayette College and was recently the recipient of a Fulbright award to London. She holds Theatre degrees from Catholic University (B.M.), Villanova (M.A.), and Bowling Green (Ph.D.). She’s published widely on the musical and has directed and choreographed numerous professional and college productions. WORKS CITED

Barnes, Clive. “Theater: ‘Company’ Offers a Guide to New York’s Marital Jungle.” New York Times. 27 Apr. 1970. Print. Butler, Jeremy. “The Star System and Hollywood.” American Cinema and Hollywood: Critical Approaches. Ed. John Hill and Pamela Gibson Church. Oxford, UK: Oxford UP, 2000. 116-27. Print. Flinn, Denny Martin. Musical! A Grand Tour. New York: Schirmer, 1997. Print. Gordon, Suzanne. Off Balance: The Real World of Ballet. New York, NY: Pantheon, 1983. Print. Hirsch, Foster. “Actors and Acting.” The Cambridge History of American Theater, Vol. III. Ed. Don B. Wilmeth and Christopher Bigsby. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 2000. 491-513. Print. Kelly, Dierdre. Ballerina: Sex, Scandal and Suffering Behind the Symbol of Perfection. Vancouver, BC: Greystone, 2012. Print. Kenrick, John. Musical Theater: A History. New York: Bloomsbury Academic, 2010. Print. Lodge, Mary Jo. “Dancing Up the Broken Ladder: The Rise of the Female Director/ Choreographer in the American Musical Theatre Women on Broadway.” Diss. Bowling Green State University, 2001. Look, Hugh. “The Author as Star.” Publishing Research Quarterly 15.3 (1999): 12-29. Web. 30 May 2015. Morley, Sheridan. “National Crisis.” New Statesman. 16 Sept. 2002: 40-42. Web. May 30, 2015.

SDCJ-PEER REVIEW CALL FOR SUBMISSIONS Published quarterly by Stage Directors and Choreographers Society (SDC), this new peer-reviewed section of SDC Journal serves directors and choreographers working in the profession and in institutions of higher learning. SDC’s mission is to give voice to an empowered collective of directors and choreographers working in all jurisdictions and venues across the country, encourage advocacy, and highlight artistic achievement. | SDC Journal seeks essays with accessible language that focus on practice and practical application and that exemplify the sorts of fruitful intersections that can occur between the academic/scholarly and the profession/craft. For more information, visit: www.sdcweb.org/community/sdc-journal/sdc-journal-peer-review SPRING 2016 | SDC JOURNAL PEER-REVIEWED SECTION

SDCJ-PRS BOOK REVIEW JERZY GROTOWSKI’S JOURNEYS TO THE EAST By Zbigniew Osinski REVIEW BY

ANDREA J. ANDERSON

Texas Tech University TRANSLATED BY ANDRZEJ WOJTASIK AND KRIS SALATA. NEW YORK: ROUTLEDGE, 2014; PP. 219. $30.95 PAPERBACK.

In Jerzy Grotowski’s Journeys to the East, Zbigniew Osinski illuminates the influence of Eastern thought and theatrical practice on the life and work of Jerzy Grotowski. The title is somewhat deceiving; Osinski refers as much to the journeys of Eastern theatre and philosophy to Poland as he does to Grotowski’s travels to the East. Thus Osinski provides a broad perspective of the giveand-take between cultures rather than simply recounting Grotowski’s journeys. This broad scope is a direct result of the book’s origins. Jerzy Grotowski’s Journeys to the East was compiled from Osinki’s larger two-volume work, Polskie kontakty teatralne z Orientem w XX wieku, t. 1: Kronika, t. 2: Studia, which covers all of Polish theatre’s contact with Asian theatre in the twentieth century. As a biographer and acquaintance of the late Grotowski, Osinski brings firsthand knowledge of the famous director to this thoroughly researched compilation of primary and secondary sources. Jerzy Grotowski’s Journeys to the East is divided into seven sections and ends with “A Final Note,” a “Chronicle,” and an “Author’s Afterword” before the appendix. Section I begins where Grotowski first encountered the East: his hometown of Nienadówka. Here Osinski lays the groundwork for Grotowski’s lifelong fascination with Indian culture and religion. As a child Grotowski was a voracious reader and was profoundly affected by Paul Brunton’s A Search in Secret India. The influence of this book echoes throughout Grotowski’s encounters with the East and his work as a theatre artist. Its first major impact can be seen in the choices Grotowski made in his education. While he ultimately chose theatre as a primary focus, Grotowski would remain highly interested in Asian studies throughout his time as a student, both attending classes and lecturing on the East. Section II focuses on Grotowski’s first journey to the East in the mid-1950s. The first part of the section examines Grotowski’s time as a student in Moscow as well as his two-month trip to Uzbekistan and Turkmenistan in 1956. Osinski pieces the trip together using postcards, letters, published reports, and personal interviews, all of which indicate circumstances that made it prudent for Grotowski to leave Moscow for “health” reasons. The second half

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of the section focuses on Grotowski’s time just one year later in Kraków, where he had already developed a reputation as an expert on Eastern philosophy. While the first two sections progress largely in chronological order, Section III marks a shift to a primarily geographical organization, beginning with Iran. Osinski outlines important evidence supporting the claim that Grotowski spent some time in Iran in 1967. He believes that little evidence of the trip remains due to Grotowski’s respect for the privacy of the people he visited. He promised he would never reveal what he had witnessed, and he remained virtually silent about this and similar experiences all his life. In this section Osinski also includes information regarding the 1970 tour of the Laboratory Theatre to the Middle East and the reception of The Constant Prince by Iranian audiences. Arguably the most important and influential region of the East for Grotowski was India, covered in Section IV. Here Osinski puts forth one of the few theses of the book: that Grotowski’s personal transformation did not happen suddenly on his third trip to the region, as many critics and scholars have postulated. Instead, Osinski sees Grotowski’s evolution as a product of more than twenty years of fascination with India and the East. Grotowski’s third trip is then interpreted as a result of his personal journey, not the impetus. What is most illuminating about Osinski’s account of Grotowski in India is the priority that Grotowski placed on understanding Indian philosophy and religion, often preferring those locations and individuals to theatrical experiences. As in Iran, Grotowski remained very private about the details of what happened in these places. Osinski, however, pulls information from acquaintances as well as brief remarks from Grotowski to argue that the spiritual and philosophical impact of India was greater on Grotowski’s life and work than that of its theatrical traditions. The intersection of Polish and Chinese theatre is examined in Section V. Osinski accounts for Grotowski’s travels to China and the particular impact of the actor Mei Lanfang. Though Mei Lanfang spent three days in Poland in 1935, it was not until Grotowski traveled to China in 1962—one year after Mei Lanfang’s death —that he learned of the actor. Although the two never met, Mei Lanfang had a significant impact on Grotowski, as is evidenced by the many references to the actor in his diaries. Osinski also uses this section as an opportunity to point out the ethnocentricity of Polish scholars who have largely ignored the significance of the visits of foreign artists. Although Grotowski spent only three days in Japan, and no performances of his work were given, Section VI is devoted entirely to that country. Therefore, it is no surprise that this

section primarily speaks to the importance of Japanese literature and traveling groups in the development of Western acting techniques, primarily those developed in Poland. What is unique about this section is that it also examines the influence of Grotowski’s writing on Japanese theatre artists. Here again, Osinski is pointing out the ethnocentricity of his own culture by examining how the Japanese embraced Grotowski as a theorist. The final section, titled “Contexts and Consequences,” examines how Grotowski and the East have influenced theatre practitioners Eugenio Barba, Peter Brook, and Ludwig Flaszen. This limited selection of artists is another stab at what Osinski sees as a problem with ethnocentricity in Poland. Here are artists who have allowed themselves to be open to ideas and practices from outside their own culture and have found fulfillment in doing so. “A Final Note” restates the author’s hope that the book will be of use to a variety of readers from theatre to Asian studies. The “Chronicle” provides a linear reference, a feature most helpful for those who find the constant shifting of time disorienting. If Osinski had been relatively quiet before, he clearly makes his concerns about ethnocentricity known in the “Author’s Afterword.” It is a challenge to the author’s original audience—Polish practitioners and scholars—to rise above Polish ethnocentrism by acknowledging the impact of the East on Polish theatre and expanding their view of the world. The appendix, “Jadwiga Rodowicz’s path to the Tessenkai Theatre,” gives greater detail to the influence of Noh theatre in Poland by examining Rodowicz, author of The Piano Tuner, the first Polish Noh play. Osinski is a prolific Grotowski scholar; however, few of his writings have been translated into English. Thus Jerzy Grotowski’s Journeys to the East is an important addition to the libraries of anglophone Grotowski and Polish theatre scholars, supplementing Osinki’s earlier work, Grotowski in His Laboratory, and providing a uniquely Polish perspective of Asian theatre. Basic knowledge of both Grotowski and Asian theatre is necessary for this book to be fully appreciated. Therefore, in an educational setting, Jerzy Grotowski’s Journeys to the East would be best suited for graduate-level courses in special topics. Despite the numerous sources and extensive quotes, Osinski only skims the surface and purposefully avoids deep discussion of the implied issues. The author admits the limitations of the book on more than one occasion, claiming the purpose was not to answer questions, but to begin a discussion. Although this discussion is aimed primarily at a Polish audience, it is a strong challenge to any reader to look beyond his or her own ethnocentricity, acknowledge the contributions of other cultures, and remain open to new ideas and experiences.

LEFT

Director Lear deBessonet + Observer Adrian Alea RIGHT

Choreographer Lorin Latarro + Observer Andrew Williams

SDC FOUNDATION

INTERVIEW WITH ADRIAN ALEA + ANDREW WILLIAMS OBSERVERS ON THE ODYSSEY INTERVIEW BY

ALANNA COBY

On September 8, 2015, hours after the new musical adaptation of The Odyssey closed at the Delacorte Theater in Central Park, SDC Foundation sat down with Adrian Alea and Andrew Williams. Adrian and Andrew are members of the 2015-2016 Observership class. The SDC Foundation Observership program provides early to midcareer directors and choreographers paid opportunities to observe the work of master directors and choreographers as they create productions on Broadway, Off-Broadway, and at leading regional theatres across the country. Observers are provided access from preproduction through opening night and receive valuable firsthand experience observing and, sometimes, working creatively with their mentors. Adrian was the directing Observer to Lear deBessonet, The Odyssey director and Director of the Public Theater’s Public Works program. Andrew was the choreography observer to The Odyssey choreographer Lorin Latarro. The Odyssey was presented as part of The Public Theater’s Public Works program, which creates ambitious works of participatory theatre in partnership with community organizations from

Public Theater staff, creative team + community ensemble members in The Odyssey

all five boroughs of New York City. With a cast of hundreds, featuring cameo group performances by community ensembles, performers from community partner organizations, and professional actors, this production of The Odyssey, with its massive cast and unique rehearsal process, was the first of its kind to be offered to our Observership class. We were eager to learn more about Adrian’s and Andrew’s experiences behind the scenes. What drew you to apply for this specific opportunity? ADRIAN | For my thesis at Columbia University I worked on an original Latinized adaptation of Woyzeck by Georg Büchner. I cast Columbia’s first Latino dance troupe, Sabor, of which I was president at the time, as my ensemble. I knew my goal for the production was to create a show that the theatre department would appreciate while also creating a piece for the Columbia community at large, specifically the Latino community, to enjoy. When I learned about Public Works and this opportunity with Lear, I realized that Public Works is doing the kind of work I tried to do with my thesis, but on a much bigger scale. ANDREW | I was in the middle of directing a show when the posting went out, but I’ve always loved The Odyssey and once I learned about the Public Works program I knew that I would regret it if I didn’t apply to work with Lorin. It sounded like such an epic, incredible experience. Andrew, what did being Lorin’s Observer entail? ANDREW | During preproduction I was able to help Lorin workshop the choreography she was creating for the production. There were four SPRING 2016 | SDC JOURNAL FOUNDATION SECTION

of us in the room, including Lorin, and it was fantastic to be asked to jump into actually working on Lorin’s choreography. Once the cast arrived, I was responsible for taping the rehearsals and taking notes. This gave me the chance to observe Lorin as she worked with the many ensemble groups, which taught me more about her process and helped me to anticipate her needs. I felt that my experience working on my feet with Lorin in preproduction gave me additional tools to use in my work with her as rehearsals progressed. Adrian, can you talk about how your work as Lear’s Observer took shape? Adrian: The Observership provides, at a basic level, an opportunity to understand the mentoring artist’s process and see how they work. Lear used preproduction to map out every detail of the rehearsal schedule because the cast was so large, and it was very clear to me that everyone in the room would be called upon to help make the process run smoothly. I felt that my job as Observer was to watch how the process unfolded, to understand Lear as an artist, and then, if possible, offer my skills into the mix. Once rehearsals began I quickly saw how imperative it was that Lear be in the room; when she left, literally everything stopped. So I discovered that I could contribute to the work by simply making sure that all of Lear’s needs were met when she was in the room, and keeping track of her when she left the room. The actors learned they could come to me if they needed Lear. As we developed a rapport, Lear started to expand my duties, asking me to manage the cuts to the script, notes for her and the creative team, going to production and design meetings, and finally, helping to manage tech at the Delacorte. I truly became her assistant through initially just observing how she needed to work.

ANDREW | It was unlike any rehearsal process I’ve been involved in. We would work during the day with the Equity actors and with the community at night. ADRIAN | The amount of stamina and endurance that Lear and Lorin have is unbelievable. They were rehearsing all the time. What are you taking away from this process that you will apply to your work in the future? ANDREW | Throughout this process I saw how important it is for artistic leaders to treat every single person as a professional artist throughout the process. So many of the performers in The Odyssey came up to me to tell me about the profound impact Public Works, and the work Lear does, has made in their lives. I knew Public Works and this production was a special, one-of-a-kind experience. What I didn’t realize was just how much it means to the community, and how treating everyone in the room as a professional, even when they are not, makes such a huge impact on the quality of work. ADRIAN | The director only has control over the environment that they create in the room. Working with Lear showed me that it is not the director’s job to “empower” the actor, but rather to create an environment in which they can empower themselves to make choices, to have fun, to create relationships. If you had to choose a word or two to describe this experience, what would those words be, and why?

The Odyssey had a huge cast of professional actors, community ensemble members, and cameo groups. Can you talk about how Lorin and Lear handled the many artistic voices in the room?

ANDREW | Inspirational. The whole process of creating The Odyssey and the Public Works program inspired me so much. Thanks to SDCF and this opportunity to be Lorin’s Observer, I can’t wait to jump into my next project.

ADRIAN | Lear made sure she understood each artist and how he or she worked before she tried to cultivate or craft their work. I think this is important for directors, because actors, designers, production staff members, and other creative team members need to have space to do their best work. Lear didn’t stand in the way of or dictate anyone’s process.

ADRIAN | Empowering and hopeful. Lear and the entire production team set out to create an Odyssey that tells the story of a unified, joyful city. And every night, that’s what I saw. It gave me hope that theatre can change the lives of people and help to bridge the gaps that exist between different communities. This experience empowered me to continue this work.

ANDREW | I observed Lorin offering shape to the pieces she worked on with the collaborating artists instead of demanding that they do it her way. When we got into the rehearsal room with the D.R.E.A.M. Ring, one of the cameo groups, Lear and Lorin wanted specific choreography for them, and there was some pushback, because they mainly freestyle. As more choreography was introduced, I watched Lorin sit back and watch, then offer inspiration and encouragement. She set the example of not pushing her agenda, of listening and respecting all the voices in the room. As rehearsals progressed, everyone got more comfortable, the dancing got better, and more ideas were bubbling up. Even throughout the performances, I felt like their work just got better and better.

Since completing their Observerships on The Odyssey, Andrew and Adrian have remained busy. Andrew directed a production of The Aliens in Grand Rapids, Mich., with Theatre 616 and Dog Story Theater, and as a result of his Odyssey Observership, Adrian was invited to work with Lear deBessonet as her assistant on the workshop of Alice by Heart in New York City.

ADRIAN | There’s such a huge social and political aspect to what Public Works is doing, and so many things have to be taken into account. Not only were Lear and Lorin collaborating with the actors, they were collaborating with the Flamenco choreographers, the D.R.E.A.M. Ring, the Bobby Lewis Ensemble, etc. I saw how they both played to the strengths of each cameo group, making sure that the

talent each group had would tell the story in the best way possible. [Musical Director] Todd Almond did a fantastic job of making sure to match his music to the specific talent of each cameo group, as well.

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FROM THE ARCHIVES

FROM THE JOURNAL FOR STAGE DIRECTORS AND CHOREOGRAPHERS, VOLUME 20 NO. 1 | SPRING/SUMMER 2008 In this excerpt from the 2008 Journal, Walter Bobbie and Marc Bruni discuss the Director-Associate relationship and its importance to the success of a Broadway show. Bruni, who is currently directing Presto Change-O at Barrington Stage and most recently helmed Beautiful on Broadway, honed his craft by working with theatre veteran Bobbie, who just completed work on Bright Star with Steve Martin and Edie Brickell.

Company of Irving Berlin’s White Christmas PHOTO DavidAllenStudio.com

WALTER BOBBIE | I love the Union and the work of the Foundation. One of the programs that I especially love and have always supported is the Observership Program. I’ve had an Observer on almost every show I’ve ever done, and some of those Observers have become assistants or associates. The thing that I look for in an assistant or an associate is someone who is smart. There’s always going to be someone to get a cup of coffee and help out with the tasks. I like someone who wants my job and I like to be around, someone who possibly is smart enough to get my job. I think that’s the whole point. I look for someone who can analyze a script, stay two yards ahead of me in terms of how rehearsals will work; someone whose opinion I actually value, at the right time and in the right context. Because of that, I tend to involve my associates in as much of the process as I can. I take them into as much of the SPRING 2016 | SDC JOURNAL SPRING FOUNDATION 2016 | SDC JOURNAL SECTION

private parts of the process as possible, and that can be incredibly difficult if you’re working on a new $10 million musical.

Walter Bobbie + Marc Bruni in rehearsal for Irving Berlin’s White Christmas PHOTO

Michael Thomas Holmes

MARC BRUNI | From my side, it’s about finding when your idea is going to be heard by selecting the time that you’re going to say it. So much of it is about timing and allowing the person with whom you’re working the space to do what they need so that you’re not stepping on their heels. You’re excited and everyone’s excited, but you have to know what your place is on the project. This is not your project, and as the assistant or the associate, you’re there to support the work of the director.

AUDIENCE MEMBER | You two have worked together a lot, but if you were starting with someone new, how would you begin to establish a relationship? MARC | The first step is to find out what makes them tick as a director. Then find a way that your skill set is going to mesh with what they do in order to support them towards making the production work.

You need to be diplomatic. Even if you can see that the director is struggling with something, recognize that that’s the creative process you have to let them go through. That’s what making art is all about. In order to support the director, you can add something that is going to amplify or clarify what they’re saying. It’s about being a diplomat as much as it is about being an artist. I’ve been in situations where I’ve been privy to very sensitive discussions between producers and directors. That relationship also needs to be protected. When you’re used to being in the room for everything, it can be difficult when you suddenly realize that you’re the one that needs to go out of the room. Each experience is different, and there’s no way of guaranteeing what an experience is going to be like going in. You have to roll with the punches, especially if it’s a high-profile project. It’s almost like the higher profile the project, the more likely that there’s going to be a lower level of access due to the nature of how high the stakes are. WALTER | But the thing that there is always access to is the material. What I always look for in an assistant is someone who isn’t just waiting for marching orders. They care about the script. They’ve studied the script. They know the script. They have an opinion about the script. They have insight into how it would be cast. They have ownership of how they might do it if it were in their hands. For me, the text rules everything. I always look for an assistant who’s not waiting for me to say, “Have you read the script?” I look for someone who is passionate about the work and is doing it like it is his job. And it is his job. As I often say to Marc, “Just make me look good!” AUDIENCE MEMBER | [Marc,] as the associate director for a show like Legally Blonde, how

SDC JOURNAL

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way of supporting Jerry yet helping Jerry maintain ownership of the work. Marc really knows how to support the director, and that was very apparent, but always right-sized, gentlemanly, and appropriate

often do you watch the show and how often does Jerry Mitchell? MARC | Jerry Mitchell is pretty hands-on so he comes about once every couple weeks. I’ll usually go about that often as well. In terms of rehearsals, the stage manager and the dance captain are maintaining the show for most of the ensemble replacements. For principal replacements, the stage manager will give the basic blocking, entrances and exits, and then I’ll come in for a session on the acting. For star replacements, as in the case of Brooke Shields in Wonderful Town, I’m there for the whole process. AUDIENCE MEMBER | How did you become an assistant? What was the process? MARC | I was very lucky that the first job I had out of college was interning for Jerry Zaks on Epic Proportions, which was at the Helen Hayes in the fall of 1999. I continued to work with Jerry on a variety of projects, and in fact, he was the reason I met Walter, because Walter played Mr. McAfee in the Encores! production of Bye Bye Birdie. WALTER | Jerry and I have been friends forever. Jerry and I acted together in the original Grease [directed by Tom Moore], if you can imagine, and he has directed me many times. During Bye Bye Birdie, as I worked with Jerry, I kept observing Marc, thinking, “Who is that guy? He’s good.” I admired Marc’s

WALTER | It also depends on what the production is and when you join a production. If we’re reviving a play, we have a text and the text isn’t going to change. How we’re going to deal with that text is very manageable. We can put together a plan in a much clearer way. If you’re developing a new show over several years, as we were doing with High Fidelity, unless someone is working with you regularly, it’s very hard to involve them completely for two years. There’s a little crucible where things happen between the director and the designers and the director and the writers. That must be protected for a long time. But as soon as I can, I like to involve someone who’s going to be the assistant on the show in early readings and workshops. MARC | Getting as much information as early as possible means that when people start asking you questions, you have more to draw upon to answer those questions and try to shield the director from having to deal with those details. At the same time, that can be very dangerous because you can’t make artistic judgments that haven’t first been cleared by the director. If you think you’re saving time by making a decision, that’s not saving time. That’s actually adding a lot of time later on when the director finds out that you made a decision that he didn’t know about. It’s a balancing act. WALTER | It’s exciting when you’re on a project, especially a large musical, and your assistant is involved with you well before the rehearsals begin. That’s the fun time—when Marc is actually there during casting, or he’s there when we’re breaking down the set in technical meetings and we’re figuring out how we’re going to get from place to place. Then the assistant is informed and can genuinely be helpful. There is an incredible amount of information that is downloaded before rehearsals begin.

MARC | There is a quicker learning curve to get up to speed, especially when you are dealing with a lot of complicated set automation. So many of the decisions in a big musical have been made far before the first day of rehearsal because the set is in the shop being built and the automation is being created. Many of those decisions on how to stage the show have already been made, so you need to make sure that what is being rehearsed agrees with those decisions.

Walter Bobbie + Marc Bruni, 2016 PHOTO Bruce Glikas/Playbill

WALTER | There are some situations that are more complicated than others. When I’m involved in a show on the scale of High Fidelity I want an assistant with whom I feel comfortable when he is speaking for me. I try to create an atmosphere where the teamat-large knows that if I send Marc, Marc is speaking for me. That includes speaking to the technical people, and that includes speaking to the stars. AUDIENCE MEMBER | As an assistant, how often do you find yourself running the rehearsal room? MARC | From my own experience, if it’s a new Broadway project, very infrequently. The time when you’re actually running the room yourself is if there are subsequent companies of the show where you are called upon to reset the director’s work. That’s not to say that there haven’t been times that I’ve run the room. But again, with big Broadway shows, the stakes are too high, and there has to be one person who’s the muscle behind the show. And normally it’s the director. Hopefully it’s the director, because you need one person running the show. I’ve had experiences where there have been too many cooks in the kitchen, and it can lead to a lot of chaos and entropy. And that’s not a friend of out-of-town tryouts of musicals or musicals in general. It helps to have a strong force. The director needs to be the muscle, but that’s not to say that he or she can’t delegate. WALTER | It’s important that there be genuine leadership. I don’t think that you muscle it. I think you have to be willing to wear it loosely. I work with exceedingly strong producers who still meet with me privately but who never come into the room and take away my leadership of the room. Once the cast starts to trust you, they start to play, to invent and give

you things that you couldn’t have imagined or dreamed of. They start to take ownership and they can’t do that if they’re looking for guidance and approval from too many people. I don’t think directing is about “enter stage left and say your line this way.” It’s about creating an atmosphere where people feel free to invent and take ownership. I sometimes say to Marc, “Don’t give her that moment, because when she gets it herself in two weeks she will own it in a way that she wouldn’t otherwise.” Sometimes my style is to let an actor really find the moment. I know it’s coming, and then one day it does, and it’s better than if I had given it to them. When we have a situation where we have to get an understudy ready or if we have the unfortunate circumstance of having to let somebody go, I certainly do feel comfortable sending Marc into a room to get the new person prepped and ready for me. That’s why I say these things require a great deal of diplomacy and they require a great deal of trust. I’m strong but I tend not to be a bullying director. I can sometimes grow deadly humorless and everyone knows it. But I don’t work that way. Difficult circumstances have arisen where I’ve had to cast a replacement secretly while having someone else do the show that night. At the end of the day, you do what is important for the show, the producers, and the writers. You need to create an atmosphere of dignity and handle those circumstances with care and concern for the other people. I’ve always trusted Marc’s diplomacy. AUDIENCE MEMBER | We keep saying “assistant” and “associate.” Could you talk about the difference between the two?

WALTER | There always comes a point when someone says, “The assistant called and he wants associate billing.” I always say, “He can call himself whatever he wants.” (laughter) I think it’s something that you earn. Then it seems inevitable and it’s something that I would never deny somebody. But I think the first time out with somebody, I don’t necessarily do that. I don’t know what it means, but it does mean something. MARC | I think a lot of it has to do with the responsibility of being put in front of the room on your own and being ready to do that. That is more of an associate job, because you are acting in the director’s stead, as opposed to being supportive. As an associate director on a new project, a lot of it is doing a combination of both. You are being a second set of eyes, being a collaborator and being used or not used as much as the director feels fit. WALTER | By the time you get that title it’s because the director feels if he’s not in the room things are taken care of. Or if another company has to be staged, the associate has an acknowledged leadership title when he or she stands in front of the cast. Things are different now. There are a lot more associate directors and resident directors. There are things that Marc does that used to be the stage manager’s job. It’s a very British thing, and it’s over here now. But there weren’t always resident directors and associate directors. It’s an emerging thing here. But also, in them “olden days,” the shows did not run for 16 years on an international level. You need to build an army of people who can actually do your job. Now it is incumbent on a director to bring in somebody who will become part of a team that can stage the show in Los Angeles and London. That way, I can come in for a few days at the beginning and the end of rehearsal and make a real impact without being present when an established production is being taught. Associates certainly have a different job than when I first started acting and even since I started directing. AUDIENCE MEMBER | How has the role of assistant or associate changed in the last five years on Broadway? SPRING 2016 | SDC JOURNAL FOUNDATION SECTION

MARC | I’ve gotten billed as an associate for the past few years, but I don’t know if my role has changed significantly. I think what Walter’s talking about, the relationship between the assistant or the associate and the stage manager, has probably changed more. There are still quite a few stage managers who are the associate director or resident director. But that person is also the production supervisor, so he’s supervising all the technical aspects as well as being in charge of maintaining the performances, as most stage managers are. As an associate director, that’s another collaboration that you have once the director is gone. You and the stage manager are in charge of making sure that the performances stay on track. WALTER | There are some stage managers who actually like to maintain their own show. It is a traditional American stage manager job. But some directors depend on associates and resident directors to maintain a show because it’s a big job. MARC | Most of the more corporate producing entities tend to use stage managers in less of a creative capacity and utilize associate or resident directors for maintaining the show. AUDIENCE MEMBER | You’ve talked a fair amount about your work together as colleagues. Do you consider the relationship to be mentor/protégé? Do you think of it as teaching and passing along the business aspects of working on Broadway? Do you turn to Marc and say, “This is why I’m doing this?” MARC | A lot of it is more anecdotal and experiential than being codified in a teacher/ student paradigm. It’s more about learning by example, watching a situation unfold and seeing how the director deals with it. Then you can make the decision for yourself of “Wow, that was really handled in a great way” or “Here’s how I would have handled that differently.” In retrospect, those have been the most important moments for me to watch. Some of the most eye opening experiences have been those instances that reminded me that it is a business. You realize that there is an artistic aspect and a commercial aspect. Sometimes the commercial is going to overtake the artistic, and you’re going to have to make peace with that on a project that is intended as a commercial project. WALTER | In many ways Marc’s situation right now is enviable, because he’s working with the top shelf of Broadway directors. The things that he picks up from any one of us are varied and instructive, but I don’t think it’s done in a formal way. There’s nothing formal about it.

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AUDIENCE MEMBER | Do you ever think to yourself, “I would have done that differently?” MARC | We’ve certainly had times when I’ve been adamant about something that I’ve felt, “Why can’t it be this way?” Walter will disagree, and that’ll be fine. (laughter) And I will lose. WALTER | But sometimes you win because I’ll say, “All right,” and it’s a good idea. And sometimes Marc will fight me on something but later say, “I didn’t see that. I didn’t see it coming.” And there’s a good result. MARC | That’s a great learning experience, because I think a big reason that many of us got into directing is that we think we’re right most of the time. If everyone could just understand how right we are, it would make things go much more smoothly. (laughter)

IN MEMORIAM

JUNE 23, 2015 - MARCH 22, 2016

Billie Allen

Roger Rees

Brian Bedford

DIRECTOR Since 1987

Anthony Ridley

Melvin Bernhardt

Mark Rucker

DIRECTOR Since 2001

DIRECTOR Since 1965

WALTER | I think Marc likes to see a result sooner than I do. Because of my process as an actor, I’m willing to wait for the actor to find it and feel he’s done it himself. I appreciate a director who allows me to make a mess for a while and then nudges, encourages, and edits. Marc is very skillful in that way as well but likes to land the “bedump-bump punchline” sooner than I.

Walter Brown

AUDIENCE MEMBER | Marc, I’d be interested to hear you talk about your own career as a director and moving away from assisting. How would you do that?

William Keeler

MARC | I’m working on it. Quite frankly, it’s a bit of a golden handcuff situation, because as an associate, it’s a job that pays money and is regular. It’s nice working on projects that have a budget. It’s tough to give that up, because you know that you are giving it up for situations that are not as ideal in terms of production values. The skill set involved in working on something of that scale needs to be adapted in some way. I don’t know that I’ve totally figured that out yet. I’m actually directing a show at the New York Music Theatre Festival this year. I made the decision at the end of the last year that I wanted to definitely start this year by doing something on my own, and then go back and do some other shows as an assistant or as an associate. WALTER | I’m very happy to see that Marc is directing more and more. He is extremely gifted. I have found myself recommending Marc for jobs and realizing it would create a conflict when I need him on one of my projects. Once you feel that, you know the director/ associate relationship has become a trusting collaboration. It is a unique partnering and you only know it when you achieve it.

DIRECTOR Since 2014

Robert Dahdah

DIRECTOR Since 1975

DIRECTOR Since 2001

Sha Newman DIR/CHOR Since 1996

Edward Parone

DIRECTOR Since 1981

Robin Phillips

DIRECTOR Since 1990

DIRECTOR Since 1997

DIRECTOR Since 1995

M. David Samples DIRECTOR Since 1962

Elizabeth Swados

DIRECTOR Since 1978

James Van Wart

DIRECTOR Since 1967

Timothy Vasen DIRECTOR Since 1995

Janet Watson

CHOREOGRAPHER Since 1977

Peter Wood

DIRECTOR Since 1989

“Think where man's glory most begins and ends, and say my glory was I had such friends.” William Butler Yeats

THE SOCIETY PAGES SDC MEMBERS @ WORK + PLAY

On December 17, 2015, the Dramatists Guild of America hosted a lunchtime Director/Dramatist Exchange in The Music Hall of the Dramatists Guild Fund on W. 40th Street. The event saw ten directors and ten playwrights speak about work that inspires them and how they collaborate. Over the years, several fruitful collaborative teams have been born through these events. On December 30, 2015, Art Director Elizabeth Nelson proofed SDC Journal pages for the last time. After six years and four positions of increasing responsibility at SDC, Nelson, most recently SDC’s Communications Manager and Art Director for SDC Journal, has left the Union for a graphic design position at Barrington Stage Company, working for SDC Member and former Executive Board President Julianne Boyd. On January 11, 2016, SDC hosted its first Bicoastal Executive Board Meeting with Board Members present in Los Angeles and New York. Sheldon Epps, Executive Board Member and Pasadena Playhouse Artistic Director, hosted the Los Angeles portion in a Playhouse conference room, while in New York Board Members and staff gathered at SDC. LEFT TO RIGHT Sitting around the table: Executive Director Laura Penn, Board Members Paul Lazarus, Sheldon Epps, Julie Arenal + Susan H. Schulman

SPRING 2016 | SDC JOURNAL

Also on January 11, 2016, Snehal Desai and Tim Dang of East West Players hosted the SDC Membership Meeting in L.A. SDC Executive Board President Susan H. Schulman, Executive Director Laura Penn, Director of Member Services Barbara Wolkoff, and Western Business Representative Kristy Cummings updated the Membership on key initiatives. They thanked the L.A. Ad Hoc Committee Chairs Casey Stangl and Art Manke and Committee Members Matt August, Dan Bonnell, Larry Carpenter, Tim Dang, Elina de Santos, Sheldon Epps, Neel Keller, Janet Miller, and Oz Scott, for their continued work on behalf of all Members in the region. Following the Membership Meeting, non-Members were invited to join the reception to learn more about the benefits of SDC Membership.

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SDC Members in L.A. In the front row: President Susan H. Schulman + Western Regional Rep Casey Stangl ABOVE

SDC Members at the Membership Meeting in L.A.

On the same trip, Julie Arenal and her husband, DGA Director Barry Primus, hosted a group of SDC Members and non-Members working at local universities in and around Los Angeles. There was a lively conversation on how the Union can be helpful to directing program faculty and students, and how to better educate this constituency about SDC and what the Union has to offer. In addition to President Schulman, Executive Vice President John Rando (a UCLA alum) and Board Member Larry Carpenter helped guide this important conversation. ABOVE

Brian Kite, Marike Splint, John Rando + Dominic Taylor

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Several of our Members were recognized at the 68th Directors Guild of America Awards on February 6, 2016. Matthew Diamond and Kenny Leon were nominated in the category of “Directed by/Live Television Directed by” for The Wiz Live! Michael Engler was nominated for “Outstanding Directorial Achievement in a Dramatic Series” for his work on Downton Abbey. Congratulations to Kenny Ortega on his win for “Outstanding Directorial Achievement in Children’s Programs” for Descendants. RIGHT

Naketha Mattocks from Disney Channel, Kenny Ortega + Gary Marsh, President and Chief Creative Officer for Disney Channel

On February 15, 2016, Executive Director Laura Penn participated in the series Dismantling Racism: A Community Forum for Southeast Seattle, organized and moderated by Spectrum Dance Theater Artistic Director Donald Byrd. Joined by Barbara Earl Thomas and Valerie Curtis-Newton, the gathering was titled “Invisible: The Dilemma of the Black Artist in America.” PHOTO Sharayah Lane Earlier the same day, Laura attended an SDC gathering with local directors and choreographers, hosted by Seattle Children’s Theatre, complete with an impromptu SDC step-and-repeat. BELOW LEFT John Dillon, Regional Rep Linda Hartzell + Executive Director Laura Penn BELOW RIGHT John Dillon, Andrew Russell, Malika Oyetimein, Linda Hartzell, Geoffrey Alm, Mark Lutwak, Tina Polzin + Wiley Basho Gorn at Seattle Children’s Theatre

SPRING 2016 | SDC JOURNAL

On February 17, 2016, Laura Penn, Susan Stroman, and Patricia Watt attended The Fred and Adele Astaire Awards Kickoff Party at the Friars Club. LEFT

Susan Stroman + Lee Roy Reams

On March 29, SDC Members gathered in New Orleans at Le Petit Theatre with Artistic Director Maxwell Williams and Executive Board Secretary Oz Scott. BELOW (LEFT TO RIGHT)

Maxwell Williams, Vernel Bagneris, Oz Scott, Amile Clark Wilson, Michael McKelvey, Peter Webb + Artemis Preeshl

On March 14, Primary Stages celebrated Horton Foote’s 100th Birthday with a champagne toast and cake at their studios on West 38th Street. Annie Potts, SDC Board Treasurer Michael Wilson, Estelle Parsons, Vanessa Williams + Hallie Foote PHOTO

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c/o Primary Stages

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The versatile ABE BURROWS, born in New York City in 1910, was a celebrated librettist, director, author, and comic. After he skillfully removed a cinder from his grandmother’s eye when he just a child, his parents assumed he would one day be a doctor. Although he studied pre-med in college, Burrows pursued a career in finance before becoming a comic and later a “play doctor,” performing surgery (often anonymously) on musicals in need of assistance. Comedy came naturally to Burrows, perhaps in part because his father loved vaudeville and took him to a number of shows while he was growing up. He began his professional career selling jokes, performing at parties, and writing for the radio. He co-created the popular show Duffy’s Tavern with Ed Gardner, whom he credited as a teacher, before landing his own program, The Abe Burrows Show. He was known for parodying Hollywood and popular songs with improvised ditties on the piano, such as “The Girl with the Three Blue Eyes.” In 1949, he received his first invitation to rework a show headed to Broadway: Guys and Dolls, with music and lyrics by Frank Loesser and a book by Jo Swerling. Burrows and Loesser, already close friends, made stellar collaborators. They won the Tony Award for Guys and Dolls (dir. George S. Kaufman) and the Tony Award, the New York Drama Critics' Circle Award, and the Pulitzer Prize for How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying (dir. Abe Burrows).

“

What gives me the greatest satisfaction is working in the theatre, just being there… I go in with a sense of newness, and it’s fresh, and it’s great. And you renew it each time you go back in. I think that’s why people do so many shows: you get that renewed feeling. I love actors, I love being with them. You can’t think of them as puppets; they’re people. I learn from them; they learn from me. And there’s a great interrelationship that I find wonderful.

”

Burrows went on to co-write and direct such shows as Breakfast at Tiffany’s, Three Wishes for Jamie, Can-Can, Say, Darling, First Impressions, and Cactus Flower, and to direct Two on the Aisle, Reclining Figure, Happy Hunting, Golden Fleecing, What Makes Sammy Run, and Forty Carats, among others.

SPRING 2016 | SDC JOURNAL

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