August 28 -- Back home, some final thoughts
I promised (myself) a final blog post about Noir Hamlet at the Edinburgh Fringe, mostly to give myself a chance to try to understand a little more deeply what the whole thing meant to me. It was one of the most powerful experiences I’ve had as a theater artist, for too many reasons to really describe.
But I’ll take a shot.
First, I’m still overwhelmed and humbled by the sheer audacity of it. Mostly, you write a play, you send it into the world, and the world says “Thanks, but no.” Usually without the “thanks” part.
So that Bob Murphy proposed this amazing thing in the first place was extraordinary. And that he and Kim Holliday formed YASPLZ, LLC to investigate and then produce the show in Edinburgh was even more extraordinary.
But as I’ve written earlier, most extraordinary was my role – or my roles – in the production. Bob proposed that I become production manager because of my experience getting high school shows into and out of venues. I’m not sure why he also proposed that I be lighting designer, but that worked out, too. And, in the first rehearsal at Boston Playwrights Theatre, it became quite clear that downsizing from two on-stage/in-character crew members to one was not going to work, and suddenly I was “in” the show.
Honesty, being a crewmember was a struggle, as my Partner-in-Crew Jess Meyer can attest. I think I had maybe ONE flawless show in our twelve-performance run. Maybe. I loved the involvement in the on stage company, but after every change, when I went backstage to wait for the next one, I couldn’t stop listening as a playwright. Listening for rhythms, for moments, for where the audience breathed, or laughed, or gasped (or snored…). And I’d lose track of the job I was supposed to be doing. Kudos to Jess for not only handling the prep and movement of props, but also handling a never-quite-focused Partner-in-Crew. They did outstanding work, onstage and off.
And while I didn't learn quite as much about the play as I might have learned without being part of the company, I know that, in ways I can't articulate yet but which will come to me over the next weeks and months, the process changed me as a writer.
For all that I was given by this experience, I’m grateful to the whole team: our director Joe Antoun; Bob and Kim as both producers and actors; their fellow cast members Paul Melendy and Cristhian Mancinas-García; Partner-in-Crew Jess; stage manager and expert in all-things-Edinburgh Maureen Lane; spouses-turned-house-managers-and-backstage-helpers Pat Murphy and Lynn Frederiksen; and all others who lent hands along the way, especially costume designer Richelle Murray and sound designer Rick Brenner.
I never went to sleep-away camp, so I never understood why folks had such powerful and strong feelings about the experience of living in a cool place far from home with extraordinary, joyful, loving people. But after two weeks living, eating, sweating, drinking, sweating some more, and putting up a show with all those in the “traveling company,” I finally get it.
I’m confident I’ll have more productions of plays, and I’m confident they will go well. And I’ll probably travel to Edinburgh again, since it's become one of my favorite places. And I hope to continue to work with artists and technicians as fabulous as these.
But this combination? I doubt I’ll experience anything like it again. And that’s okay. Because it was real and it was lovely and it’s going to stay with me for a very long time.
Pictured: Most of us looking shady in an alley outside the stage entrance to Venue 45.
But I’ll take a shot.
First, I’m still overwhelmed and humbled by the sheer audacity of it. Mostly, you write a play, you send it into the world, and the world says “Thanks, but no.” Usually without the “thanks” part.
So that Bob Murphy proposed this amazing thing in the first place was extraordinary. And that he and Kim Holliday formed YASPLZ, LLC to investigate and then produce the show in Edinburgh was even more extraordinary.
But as I’ve written earlier, most extraordinary was my role – or my roles – in the production. Bob proposed that I become production manager because of my experience getting high school shows into and out of venues. I’m not sure why he also proposed that I be lighting designer, but that worked out, too. And, in the first rehearsal at Boston Playwrights Theatre, it became quite clear that downsizing from two on-stage/in-character crew members to one was not going to work, and suddenly I was “in” the show.
Honesty, being a crewmember was a struggle, as my Partner-in-Crew Jess Meyer can attest. I think I had maybe ONE flawless show in our twelve-performance run. Maybe. I loved the involvement in the on stage company, but after every change, when I went backstage to wait for the next one, I couldn’t stop listening as a playwright. Listening for rhythms, for moments, for where the audience breathed, or laughed, or gasped (or snored…). And I’d lose track of the job I was supposed to be doing. Kudos to Jess for not only handling the prep and movement of props, but also handling a never-quite-focused Partner-in-Crew. They did outstanding work, onstage and off.
And while I didn't learn quite as much about the play as I might have learned without being part of the company, I know that, in ways I can't articulate yet but which will come to me over the next weeks and months, the process changed me as a writer.
For all that I was given by this experience, I’m grateful to the whole team: our director Joe Antoun; Bob and Kim as both producers and actors; their fellow cast members Paul Melendy and Cristhian Mancinas-García; Partner-in-Crew Jess; stage manager and expert in all-things-Edinburgh Maureen Lane; spouses-turned-house-managers-and-backstage-helpers Pat Murphy and Lynn Frederiksen; and all others who lent hands along the way, especially costume designer Richelle Murray and sound designer Rick Brenner.
I never went to sleep-away camp, so I never understood why folks had such powerful and strong feelings about the experience of living in a cool place far from home with extraordinary, joyful, loving people. But after two weeks living, eating, sweating, drinking, sweating some more, and putting up a show with all those in the “traveling company,” I finally get it.
I’m confident I’ll have more productions of plays, and I’m confident they will go well. And I’ll probably travel to Edinburgh again, since it's become one of my favorite places. And I hope to continue to work with artists and technicians as fabulous as these.
But this combination? I doubt I’ll experience anything like it again. And that’s okay. Because it was real and it was lovely and it’s going to stay with me for a very long time.
Pictured: Most of us looking shady in an alley outside the stage entrance to Venue 45.
Partner-in-Crew Jess and your blogger, flyering outside the close that led to Venue 45.
And Cristhian’s kick-ass new tattoo, a very Scottish Yorick.
24 Aug -- Put to Bed
What a finish.
After a big but quiet house yesterday, we closed the show today the way all shows ought to close: our biggest and most responsive audience, and arguably the best performance of the run.
It was edifying to finish so strong and with such love from the folks who saw it.
We were told ahead of time that the average audience size for a Fringe show is six, and we heard (as noted in previous posts) about cancellations because no audience members showed, and of shows that were struggling with four or five people a night.
We averaged a fraction over 51 people per show for our 12-performance run. I'm very grateful for that -- though the audience size was also due to having our full company flyering every day and because we were doing a comedy with a concept that was clear from the title.
And despite the 3/4" lip that was a pain to roll our furniture over repeatedly each show, Venue 9/Niddry Street Upper was a great space with some fantastic folks on the house staff, convenient facilities, and good equipment.
Bob, our producer, arranged for the British Heart Association to pick up a donation of our rolling table/desk and the four bentwood chairs, but they came hours before the show and couldn't be contacted to come back again after.
So our load-out was a mirror of our load-in two weeks ago: schlepping EVERYTHING the mile back to Brae House, where the company that runs the housing said they would accept the table and chairs for their use. Fortunately, we'd all had a wee celebratory drink at the venue post-show, so we felt little pain heading back with all that stuff.
After the journey of the company and props and costumes and furniture came a found feast of whatever was left in our two kitchens, plus pizza courtesy of Megan, Paul's wife. Plus another healthy dive into the single malt, super-peaty scotch from the Isle of Mull.
It certainly made the packing of costumes and props go more pleasantly.
In the evening, one more trip to see if there was a show we were desperate to catch, a final trip to the Pie Maker (mushroom pie for Lynn and mac & cheese pie for me), a twilight hike up Calton Hill, a scoop of gelato, and home to rest weary bones.
A remarkable day in a remarkable streak of days. (And, thank goodness, my cold is receding.)
I'll have more to reflect on in the next day or two as I "finish" the blog. But the show, the city, the company I've been keeping have all made this one of the most fulfilling and joyful theatrical experiences I've had.
Pictured: Venue 9, our home since last Sunday. I'll miss it and experience of Noir Hamlet in that space.
Also, the twilight view from the top of Calton Hill -- not sure the picture does justice to the gorgeous mists rising magically from the Firth of Forth.
After a big but quiet house yesterday, we closed the show today the way all shows ought to close: our biggest and most responsive audience, and arguably the best performance of the run.
It was edifying to finish so strong and with such love from the folks who saw it.
We were told ahead of time that the average audience size for a Fringe show is six, and we heard (as noted in previous posts) about cancellations because no audience members showed, and of shows that were struggling with four or five people a night.
We averaged a fraction over 51 people per show for our 12-performance run. I'm very grateful for that -- though the audience size was also due to having our full company flyering every day and because we were doing a comedy with a concept that was clear from the title.
And despite the 3/4" lip that was a pain to roll our furniture over repeatedly each show, Venue 9/Niddry Street Upper was a great space with some fantastic folks on the house staff, convenient facilities, and good equipment.
Bob, our producer, arranged for the British Heart Association to pick up a donation of our rolling table/desk and the four bentwood chairs, but they came hours before the show and couldn't be contacted to come back again after.
So our load-out was a mirror of our load-in two weeks ago: schlepping EVERYTHING the mile back to Brae House, where the company that runs the housing said they would accept the table and chairs for their use. Fortunately, we'd all had a wee celebratory drink at the venue post-show, so we felt little pain heading back with all that stuff.
After the journey of the company and props and costumes and furniture came a found feast of whatever was left in our two kitchens, plus pizza courtesy of Megan, Paul's wife. Plus another healthy dive into the single malt, super-peaty scotch from the Isle of Mull.
It certainly made the packing of costumes and props go more pleasantly.
In the evening, one more trip to see if there was a show we were desperate to catch, a final trip to the Pie Maker (mushroom pie for Lynn and mac & cheese pie for me), a twilight hike up Calton Hill, a scoop of gelato, and home to rest weary bones.
A remarkable day in a remarkable streak of days. (And, thank goodness, my cold is receding.)
I'll have more to reflect on in the next day or two as I "finish" the blog. But the show, the city, the company I've been keeping have all made this one of the most fulfilling and joyful theatrical experiences I've had.
Pictured: Venue 9, our home since last Sunday. I'll miss it and experience of Noir Hamlet in that space.
Also, the twilight view from the top of Calton Hill -- not sure the picture does justice to the gorgeous mists rising magically from the Firth of Forth.
23 Aug -- They queued up early today
Our largest audience so far queued up early for the show today. It felt like it would be a large house from the interest folks expressed when I was flyering.
In fact, the highlight of flyering today was the gent who walked by interrupting my spiel with a shout of "Stop talking to the wall!" You will only get the joke if you've seen the show -- sorry.
But they were a quiet audience. Yesterday's audience knew noir and knew Hamlet -- you could tell by the lines they laughed at as they caught references. Today's did not. They laughed at great choices the actors were making, but it was hard to know if they were digging the show as a whole.
They were. Such an explosion of applause at the end! And great conversations after with audience members -- including a group that saw it yesterday and came back today, and said they may come to closing tomorrow.
Closing. What a thought. I'm going to push that aside.
I'll have more thoughts in the coming days about the playwright/PM/LD/TD/Crew-member thing. I've noticed a lot about myself playing all those roles. Still mulling.
The day also included a lovely afternoon in the Botanical Gardens, outside on a gorgeous afternoon, breathing in lovely air. And the evening was the opposite -- seeing Cruel Intentions, a 90's jukebox musical based on the 90's movie of the same name, based in turn on Les Liaisons Dangereuses.
From gorgeous vistas and nature to cruelty and teen angst. And some kinda forgettable 90's songs.
Below, the queue starting up for our penultimate show. And some crazy British hedgework.
In fact, the highlight of flyering today was the gent who walked by interrupting my spiel with a shout of "Stop talking to the wall!" You will only get the joke if you've seen the show -- sorry.
But they were a quiet audience. Yesterday's audience knew noir and knew Hamlet -- you could tell by the lines they laughed at as they caught references. Today's did not. They laughed at great choices the actors were making, but it was hard to know if they were digging the show as a whole.
They were. Such an explosion of applause at the end! And great conversations after with audience members -- including a group that saw it yesterday and came back today, and said they may come to closing tomorrow.
Closing. What a thought. I'm going to push that aside.
I'll have more thoughts in the coming days about the playwright/PM/LD/TD/Crew-member thing. I've noticed a lot about myself playing all those roles. Still mulling.
The day also included a lovely afternoon in the Botanical Gardens, outside on a gorgeous afternoon, breathing in lovely air. And the evening was the opposite -- seeing Cruel Intentions, a 90's jukebox musical based on the 90's movie of the same name, based in turn on Les Liaisons Dangereuses.
From gorgeous vistas and nature to cruelty and teen angst. And some kinda forgettable 90's songs.
Below, the queue starting up for our penultimate show. And some crazy British hedgework.
22 Aug -- How can there be only two shows to go?
Our biggest house yet, and maybe the strongest show we've had. And those audience members were with us all the way -- standing O and several folks saying afterward that they want to come back to hear the script again.
Sometimes, I write comedies. More often I write "serious plays" (though I hope there is laughter in the audience for those, too). But I think I've never quite had the experience I had today, of virtually all the jokes landing AND, at the play's major plot twist (where it turns more noir than Shakespeare's play) getting not the occasional gasp it's had before, but a long series of ooooohs. Paul, our Hamlet, said after the performance that it was fun for him to "ride" that response. Tremendously gratifying.
And it was lovely to see John Moss and Laura Gillis Moss after the show -- John's a fantastic actor based in NY who I was lucky to work with on the Sam French Festival production of Easter at the Entrée Gold a few years ago. I knew they were coming, but I thought that was tomorrow -- so it was a delightful surprise!
Our audience responses continue to include "Best thing I've seen at Fringe," "It was f*cking awesome," "Top of my Top Ten," and -- today's favorite -- the gentlemen who agreed to a video interview after the show and advised Fringe-goers, "If you only want to watch two shows, watch this one twice." (The video is here.) Amazing.
Another highlight of today was seeing Paolo Nani's The Letter -- a solo physical comedy show that looked effortless, but which he's been working on developing since the early 1990s -- and he's done over 1600 shows. It's hard work making it look so easy.
Tonight is low-key, doing laundry to get us through the final stretch, and nursing the cold that after a week-long battle seems to have the upper hand. Hard to find zinc tablets here, alas...
Pictured are John Moss's photo of our posters, taken pre-show, and this private detective we met in Armstrong's who seems willing to lend a hand if Little H can't solve the case.
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21 AUG -- The joy of another show's cast giving you a shout-out at their curtain call
Flyering works.
We had only FOUR tickets sold in advance for today's show, and it looked like what seems to happen to many small venue shows here was finally going to happen to us. (I had a nice meeting with playwright Sean Morgan, who is here to support a friend's show, but that show has had audiences of 4 to 10. And we've heard of one artist who had to cancel his show three days in a row due to a complete lack of audience. So demoralizing.)
And we were ready, after days of great houses, to have a lull.
But instead of FOUR, we had 48 -- enough that the house felt really full -- and they were laughers and clappers and having a helluva time with us.
So, yes, flyering works.
Oh, and what also works is when the totally charming youth group that came to your show on Monday decides they liked it so much that they come BACK on Wednesday to see it again! Lovely.
And tonight, four of us went to see a sketch comedy-ish show from Chicago that, when Lynn and I walked by them when they were flyering, saw our flyer on Lynn's hat and said, "If you like Noir Hamlet, you'll like our show." So we had to chat with them, and we had to go see their show, and we had to sit in the front (and they had to notice). At the end of the curtain call, the last actor going off stage shouted to their audience, "Go see Noir Hamlet!"
Again, just lovely.
We'll hope that tonight's "pasting and scotch" party (pasting our four stars onto the flyers we'll give out over the final three days) helps us keep our numbers strong through the finish.
We also taped flyers on the huge posts on the Royal Mile near Fringe Central. There are SO many layers--as soon as a show performs, covering up their flyer with yours is fair game, and that's been going on for three weeks.
But tonight, around 10 pm, one lonely Noir Hamlet flyer was still showing us his playing-card backside, 10 hours after we put him up.
Pictured below...
We had only FOUR tickets sold in advance for today's show, and it looked like what seems to happen to many small venue shows here was finally going to happen to us. (I had a nice meeting with playwright Sean Morgan, who is here to support a friend's show, but that show has had audiences of 4 to 10. And we've heard of one artist who had to cancel his show three days in a row due to a complete lack of audience. So demoralizing.)
And we were ready, after days of great houses, to have a lull.
But instead of FOUR, we had 48 -- enough that the house felt really full -- and they were laughers and clappers and having a helluva time with us.
So, yes, flyering works.
Oh, and what also works is when the totally charming youth group that came to your show on Monday decides they liked it so much that they come BACK on Wednesday to see it again! Lovely.
And tonight, four of us went to see a sketch comedy-ish show from Chicago that, when Lynn and I walked by them when they were flyering, saw our flyer on Lynn's hat and said, "If you like Noir Hamlet, you'll like our show." So we had to chat with them, and we had to go see their show, and we had to sit in the front (and they had to notice). At the end of the curtain call, the last actor going off stage shouted to their audience, "Go see Noir Hamlet!"
Again, just lovely.
We'll hope that tonight's "pasting and scotch" party (pasting our four stars onto the flyers we'll give out over the final three days) helps us keep our numbers strong through the finish.
We also taped flyers on the huge posts on the Royal Mile near Fringe Central. There are SO many layers--as soon as a show performs, covering up their flyer with yours is fair game, and that's been going on for three weeks.
But tonight, around 10 pm, one lonely Noir Hamlet flyer was still showing us his playing-card backside, 10 hours after we put him up.
Pictured below...
20 Aug -- a fantastic crowd, three brain farts, how not to flyer, and a lovely reunion
First, a very pleasant surprise. Our advance sales for this week have been really disappointing, so we've been expecting small audiences (I believe it was under 20 for today for advance sales), but they've been very good. Today was in the mid 50s and, in this venue, that feels like a full house. And they were laughers, getting the humor on all levels. Just wonderful to feel their energy throughout.
I hope somehow the advance numbers continue to lie and that our crowds continue to be big and boisterous. Warms the cockles of my playwright heart.
But, while I had a good day yesterday adapting to the new space, I missed my first "new" set change today (Sorry, Jess!), and reverted to what I'd been doing for weeks in rehearsal and performance. And, of course, I was so frustrated with myself over it that I made two more (lesser) mistakes. Ah, well. Glad I'm not looking for a career as a stagehand. I fail.
One of the reasons we are getting good audiences is probably that we're really pushing the flyers, trying to raise awareness of the show (in the midst of the more than 3000 shows happening in town this month) in the hour before curtain. For a guy with my level of social anxiety, it's a chore, but now that it's a regular thing, I'm kind of enjoying it. Trying to make eye contact and conversation with every single person passing you on the street is a good thing -- at least if you're promoting a show. Questionable in other circumstances.
But today someone walked by and gave me a Noir Hamlet flyer. I think one of us is unclear on the concept.
After seeing a great show -- Manual Cinema's stunning Frankenstein -- and before our whole company went to see comedian Nish Kumar, Lynn and I had dinner and drinks with Shannon Yee -- a former student, now a playwright and theater maker in Belfast who is in town to see shows. SO lovely to chat with her for an hour -- wish it could have been longer.
Speaking of fabulous people, living and working with and meeting and re-connecting with great folks has been a highlight of the trip. Pictured here is the Meyer family: Brian, Sharla, Partner-in-Crew Jess, and David. It's been lovely to get to know them all through a hike up Arthur's seat and some tasty pub dinners.
I hope somehow the advance numbers continue to lie and that our crowds continue to be big and boisterous. Warms the cockles of my playwright heart.
But, while I had a good day yesterday adapting to the new space, I missed my first "new" set change today (Sorry, Jess!), and reverted to what I'd been doing for weeks in rehearsal and performance. And, of course, I was so frustrated with myself over it that I made two more (lesser) mistakes. Ah, well. Glad I'm not looking for a career as a stagehand. I fail.
One of the reasons we are getting good audiences is probably that we're really pushing the flyers, trying to raise awareness of the show (in the midst of the more than 3000 shows happening in town this month) in the hour before curtain. For a guy with my level of social anxiety, it's a chore, but now that it's a regular thing, I'm kind of enjoying it. Trying to make eye contact and conversation with every single person passing you on the street is a good thing -- at least if you're promoting a show. Questionable in other circumstances.
But today someone walked by and gave me a Noir Hamlet flyer. I think one of us is unclear on the concept.
After seeing a great show -- Manual Cinema's stunning Frankenstein -- and before our whole company went to see comedian Nish Kumar, Lynn and I had dinner and drinks with Shannon Yee -- a former student, now a playwright and theater maker in Belfast who is in town to see shows. SO lovely to chat with her for an hour -- wish it could have been longer.
Speaking of fabulous people, living and working with and meeting and re-connecting with great folks has been a highlight of the trip. Pictured here is the Meyer family: Brian, Sharla, Partner-in-Crew Jess, and David. It's been lovely to get to know them all through a hike up Arthur's seat and some tasty pub dinners.
19 AUG -- What a crowd! And a Haggis Story
A lovely, much larger than expected audience for the Niddry Street opening of Noir Hamlet today. Our advance sales were not strong for the second week, but day-of-show sales were strong today and we were joined by a youth theater group of 14 whose leader I chatted with. That group brought back fond memories of drama festivals, and the level of energy "theater kids" have in responding to shows. It was a fantastic house to play in front of--one of the most responsive we've had.
The challenges of the venue mean a need for more quick thinking and problem-solving for Partner-in-Crew Jess and me, but it all worked with only mild levels of panic (having to lift a "possibly dead" actor on a gurney up and onto the stage, then lower said "possibly more dead" actor back to the house floor, even when it's 3/4", is a lot, when it's all got to be timed with cues and dialogue).
And I learned something about haggis today, and what I learned is as follows: the vegetarian haggis I had last week was NOT quite vegetarian. And by that I mean not at ALL vegetarian.
Apparently, one of the employees at the street market had been regularly confusing the traditional and vegan versions. So, I had red meat for the first time since (if memory serves) 1980. That time, coincidentally, was also in Scotland -- kidney pudding when I was someone's house guest and didn't want to insult her by refusing to eat her dinner.
I definitely prefer the haggis. And today's lunch was a genuine veggie haggis, again with "neeps and tatties" and whisky-mustard sauce. And it was free, as an apology from the vendor.
Meanwhile, as you can see in the picture, Edinburgh Fringe bartenders are digging deep into the eternal questions.
The challenges of the venue mean a need for more quick thinking and problem-solving for Partner-in-Crew Jess and me, but it all worked with only mild levels of panic (having to lift a "possibly dead" actor on a gurney up and onto the stage, then lower said "possibly more dead" actor back to the house floor, even when it's 3/4", is a lot, when it's all got to be timed with cues and dialogue).
And I learned something about haggis today, and what I learned is as follows: the vegetarian haggis I had last week was NOT quite vegetarian. And by that I mean not at ALL vegetarian.
Apparently, one of the employees at the street market had been regularly confusing the traditional and vegan versions. So, I had red meat for the first time since (if memory serves) 1980. That time, coincidentally, was also in Scotland -- kidney pudding when I was someone's house guest and didn't want to insult her by refusing to eat her dinner.
I definitely prefer the haggis. And today's lunch was a genuine veggie haggis, again with "neeps and tatties" and whisky-mustard sauce. And it was free, as an apology from the vendor.
Meanwhile, as you can see in the picture, Edinburgh Fringe bartenders are digging deep into the eternal questions.
18 Aug -- Week Two Begins with eight miles and 20,000 steps
Okay, to be fair, that's probably average in terms of miles and steps for the first week. At least today was cool and breezy.
Our second tech from about noon to two, at Niddry Street, felt much smoother and I, at least, felt calmer. Maybe because we've done the show six times already, but maybe because our producer bought us late morning shots of scotch before the tech started.
Amazing how much easier it is to program light cues for a show when it's been a week since you did it, not more than ten years -- even with a little whisky in you. A bonus was that both venues have the same board, if not the same light plot -- and the grid is so low, instruments can be re-aimed by reaching up -- no ladder needed. Saved so much time!
We are up at 1:15 tomorrow -- and all week, at Niddry Street Upper. Hope we can fill those much more comfortable seats.
And it was a three-show day in terms of viewing. Saw another fantastic devised piece in the afternoon, War of the Worlds by Rhum and Clay (credited to playwright Isley Lynn, but with info that made it feel like Isley shaped the contributions of the actors). It began with a focus on Orson Welles' WOTW, but connected the dots to 2016's disinformation campaigns and election propaganda-for-profit to investigate how gullible we still are to what we encounter -- then on the radio and now on the internet. Brilliant, thought-provoking, scary and hilarious, with amazing character specificity from four actors playing many, many characters.
We followed that at 6:00 with La Galerie, a physical theater/acrobatic piece by brilliant French Canadian troupe Machine de Cirque. Joyful, jaw-dropping, and highly theatrical. Then, after a quick snack to keep us going, we caught Recirquel Company's early evening My Land, which was super impressive in terms of skill, but which we would have liked it more if we hadn't seen La Galerie first.
One of today's long walks was the return to Brae House after show number three, with a stop at a street market for a late dinner.
On the way, we got to pay our respects to Sir Walter Scott at this modest memorial.
Our second tech from about noon to two, at Niddry Street, felt much smoother and I, at least, felt calmer. Maybe because we've done the show six times already, but maybe because our producer bought us late morning shots of scotch before the tech started.
Amazing how much easier it is to program light cues for a show when it's been a week since you did it, not more than ten years -- even with a little whisky in you. A bonus was that both venues have the same board, if not the same light plot -- and the grid is so low, instruments can be re-aimed by reaching up -- no ladder needed. Saved so much time!
We are up at 1:15 tomorrow -- and all week, at Niddry Street Upper. Hope we can fill those much more comfortable seats.
And it was a three-show day in terms of viewing. Saw another fantastic devised piece in the afternoon, War of the Worlds by Rhum and Clay (credited to playwright Isley Lynn, but with info that made it feel like Isley shaped the contributions of the actors). It began with a focus on Orson Welles' WOTW, but connected the dots to 2016's disinformation campaigns and election propaganda-for-profit to investigate how gullible we still are to what we encounter -- then on the radio and now on the internet. Brilliant, thought-provoking, scary and hilarious, with amazing character specificity from four actors playing many, many characters.
We followed that at 6:00 with La Galerie, a physical theater/acrobatic piece by brilliant French Canadian troupe Machine de Cirque. Joyful, jaw-dropping, and highly theatrical. Then, after a quick snack to keep us going, we caught Recirquel Company's early evening My Land, which was super impressive in terms of skill, but which we would have liked it more if we hadn't seen La Galerie first.
One of today's long walks was the return to Brae House after show number three, with a stop at a street market for a late dinner.
On the way, we got to pay our respects to Sir Walter Scott at this modest memorial.
17 Aug -- The End of Week One
(or, what is scotland without MacGyver?)
I'm trying to wrap my head around the idea that our run is half-over. It's gone fast and it's been fantastic.
We closed our run in theSpaceUK's Venue 45 with a great show and a big, enthusiastic audience. Two of the four cast members and one of the three crew members (that would be yours truly) are sick, but the show was still clicking today.
Tomorrow, we tech in our second venue, just a block and a half away from Venue 45, in Venue 9 -- aka Niddry Street Upper.
The venue includes a 3/4" lip all around the edge of the playing area. Our main piece has to roll on and off many times, and the turnarounds on the moves are really tight. Partner-in-Crew Jess and I have a ton of logistics to deal with at the tech, and they'll almost all be focused on that damn 3/4" lip at the edge of the playing area.
And one of the wheels on the piece that rolls on and of-stage has been wonky almost since we arrived, and it's not yet had to deal with a 3/4" rise or drop. The wheel is somehow tilted, not vertical, so it catches frequently, making it hard to move the piece around. So today, we took the piece partially apart to return it to our flat at Brae House. Greg -- husband of one of our actors/producers, Kim -- and I headed to "Screwfix," a building supply store, to look for casters. Didn't have what we needed. And it was not self-service, but a place to order at the desk, so no puttering and poking around. We had to improvise. We needed a couple of nuts and a few locking washers, but they only came in packs of 100. So we bought by the hundred, along with some tools, and then spent a frustrating hour working to get the original wheel post vertical. I'm confident we have violated any and all manufacturer warranties.
But the wheel is now vertical -- maybe for the first time -- and held that way with new locking washers and nuts. We'll hope for the best.
The rest of the day was low-key, getting laundry done so that we can make it through week two, and a return trip to David Bann, a terrific vegetarian restaurant, for dinner. Never knew beetroot pudding could taste so good. (Yes, as good as the haggis.)
Pictured: theSpaceUK, Venue 45, our home for the past week. We'll miss it, but maybe not the pillars or the very uncomfortable chairs.
We closed our run in theSpaceUK's Venue 45 with a great show and a big, enthusiastic audience. Two of the four cast members and one of the three crew members (that would be yours truly) are sick, but the show was still clicking today.
Tomorrow, we tech in our second venue, just a block and a half away from Venue 45, in Venue 9 -- aka Niddry Street Upper.
The venue includes a 3/4" lip all around the edge of the playing area. Our main piece has to roll on and off many times, and the turnarounds on the moves are really tight. Partner-in-Crew Jess and I have a ton of logistics to deal with at the tech, and they'll almost all be focused on that damn 3/4" lip at the edge of the playing area.
And one of the wheels on the piece that rolls on and of-stage has been wonky almost since we arrived, and it's not yet had to deal with a 3/4" rise or drop. The wheel is somehow tilted, not vertical, so it catches frequently, making it hard to move the piece around. So today, we took the piece partially apart to return it to our flat at Brae House. Greg -- husband of one of our actors/producers, Kim -- and I headed to "Screwfix," a building supply store, to look for casters. Didn't have what we needed. And it was not self-service, but a place to order at the desk, so no puttering and poking around. We had to improvise. We needed a couple of nuts and a few locking washers, but they only came in packs of 100. So we bought by the hundred, along with some tools, and then spent a frustrating hour working to get the original wheel post vertical. I'm confident we have violated any and all manufacturer warranties.
But the wheel is now vertical -- maybe for the first time -- and held that way with new locking washers and nuts. We'll hope for the best.
The rest of the day was low-key, getting laundry done so that we can make it through week two, and a return trip to David Bann, a terrific vegetarian restaurant, for dinner. Never knew beetroot pudding could taste so good. (Yes, as good as the haggis.)
Pictured: theSpaceUK, Venue 45, our home for the past week. We'll miss it, but maybe not the pillars or the very uncomfortable chairs.
16 Aug -- Flyers, a great performance, lovely comments, seeing a great piece of work
The weather did not look promising for our mile-long hike up the Royal Mile to our flyering spot, but the breeze and clouds once we go there were fabulous.
Context: Dear readers, I realize I have neglected to tell you that we go to the venue in costume, which for me, an inveterate and precocious sweat-meister even in winter, is a challenge. Long pants, t-shirt, dress-shirt, tie, trilby, long and heavy trenchcoat. I am the king of constant damp.
So, yes, cooling breezes are to be appreciated. Breezes that threaten to rip your hat off and get you airborne are to be praised.
Flyering was a great success today, as I was able to talk up our first review, etc. And we're now getting passers-by who've seen the show and are very complimentary. It's lovely.
The show was strong again today, with more consistent laughter and, again, applause that was hard to stop for Paul's post-show speech. One kind audience member came up to tell us it was the best show she'd seen at Fringe. Hope she tweets!
Lynn was a flyering casualty, though. Walking away after chatting with someone, she turned and hit a concrete post of some kind and went down, bruising a knee. She iced and rested (and we split a bottle of wine tonight, so she's feeling okay now).
We recovered from the tumble and the sweat with haggis for lunch from a street market -- vegan for me and authentic for Lynn. Neeps and tatties under quinoa (and more grains), with a whisky/mustard sauce for the vegan variety.
I had doubts. It was amazing.
Cristhian and I tried to see Incident Room, but it was sold out, so we saw a show we weren't aiming for, The Last of the Pelican Daughters, by a group from Bristol. It was outstanding -- a devised piece with the not-unfamiliar scenario of "parent dies, siblings bicker about inheritance and legacy," but really well done. Clear, brilliantly acted, and often surprising.
Tomorrow is our final show at Venue 45, where we have come to feel very much at home. I think we'll miss it quite a bit.
Sunday we tech in Venue 9, where we will perform all of next week. The raised stage is going to be a huge challenge for our rolling table (with bottles and classes and possibly a corpse on it at various points).
Why on earth would anyone decide to raise a performance area 3/4" higher than its surround?
I'll spend tomorrow afternoon doing my Production Manager duty, scouring hardware stores for sturdier casters and U-bolts to attach them to the desk, and blue-tack to hold the bottles and glasses in place.
Pictured: the view from my flyering post, looking down the Royal Mile toward the Firth of Forth.
It's bonnie.
Context: Dear readers, I realize I have neglected to tell you that we go to the venue in costume, which for me, an inveterate and precocious sweat-meister even in winter, is a challenge. Long pants, t-shirt, dress-shirt, tie, trilby, long and heavy trenchcoat. I am the king of constant damp.
So, yes, cooling breezes are to be appreciated. Breezes that threaten to rip your hat off and get you airborne are to be praised.
Flyering was a great success today, as I was able to talk up our first review, etc. And we're now getting passers-by who've seen the show and are very complimentary. It's lovely.
The show was strong again today, with more consistent laughter and, again, applause that was hard to stop for Paul's post-show speech. One kind audience member came up to tell us it was the best show she'd seen at Fringe. Hope she tweets!
Lynn was a flyering casualty, though. Walking away after chatting with someone, she turned and hit a concrete post of some kind and went down, bruising a knee. She iced and rested (and we split a bottle of wine tonight, so she's feeling okay now).
We recovered from the tumble and the sweat with haggis for lunch from a street market -- vegan for me and authentic for Lynn. Neeps and tatties under quinoa (and more grains), with a whisky/mustard sauce for the vegan variety.
I had doubts. It was amazing.
Cristhian and I tried to see Incident Room, but it was sold out, so we saw a show we weren't aiming for, The Last of the Pelican Daughters, by a group from Bristol. It was outstanding -- a devised piece with the not-unfamiliar scenario of "parent dies, siblings bicker about inheritance and legacy," but really well done. Clear, brilliantly acted, and often surprising.
Tomorrow is our final show at Venue 45, where we have come to feel very much at home. I think we'll miss it quite a bit.
Sunday we tech in Venue 9, where we will perform all of next week. The raised stage is going to be a huge challenge for our rolling table (with bottles and classes and possibly a corpse on it at various points).
Why on earth would anyone decide to raise a performance area 3/4" higher than its surround?
I'll spend tomorrow afternoon doing my Production Manager duty, scouring hardware stores for sturdier casters and U-bolts to attach them to the desk, and blue-tack to hold the bottles and glasses in place.
Pictured: the view from my flyering post, looking down the Royal Mile toward the Firth of Forth.
It's bonnie.
15 Aug -- Rolling, Hiking, and a FOUR STAR Review
A terrific performance today, with an audience halfway between the raucous Tuesday group and yesterday's silent but appreciative assembly. They laughed a lot, then they got quiet, then they laughed a lot more. And, like Wednesday's house, they clapped loud and long and came up to chat with us post-show.
It feels like we're getting closer to the optimal rhythm and energy for this piece, and it's gratifying. And folks continue to be intrigued by the flyering we're doing. Lots of good responses. Lots of folks who hear the "pitch," stop, listen, and want to know where and when we perform, and we're getting reasonably good day-of-show sales. And again, with audiences (so far) consistently well above average Fringe size, we're excited the show is getting to so many.
And we had our first review today, from Broadway Baby! We're setting up at 9 a.m. tomorrow to post our "four stars" on posters, etc! Very exciting, and I hope it brings in more folks. (Link to the review is here.)
But, before the review came out, Lynn and I decided, on a gorgeous day, to hike up to the top of Arthur's Seat. A bonus? As we were about to get started, who should walk by but my Partner-in-Crew Jess and their family, also headed to hike up. So, we had a lovely six-person excursion. Sunny, blustery, spectacular, with great conversation all the way up and down -- conversation that continued over dinner and drinks.
Back into darkened theaters tomorrow and for a few days -- given that the weather is about to turn significantly Scottish.
It feels like we're getting closer to the optimal rhythm and energy for this piece, and it's gratifying. And folks continue to be intrigued by the flyering we're doing. Lots of good responses. Lots of folks who hear the "pitch," stop, listen, and want to know where and when we perform, and we're getting reasonably good day-of-show sales. And again, with audiences (so far) consistently well above average Fringe size, we're excited the show is getting to so many.
And we had our first review today, from Broadway Baby! We're setting up at 9 a.m. tomorrow to post our "four stars" on posters, etc! Very exciting, and I hope it brings in more folks. (Link to the review is here.)
But, before the review came out, Lynn and I decided, on a gorgeous day, to hike up to the top of Arthur's Seat. A bonus? As we were about to get started, who should walk by but my Partner-in-Crew Jess and their family, also headed to hike up. So, we had a lovely six-person excursion. Sunny, blustery, spectacular, with great conversation all the way up and down -- conversation that continued over dinner and drinks.
Back into darkened theaters tomorrow and for a few days -- given that the weather is about to turn significantly Scottish.
13 & 14 Aug -- Up and Running
A whirlwind couple of days--so much so that time to blog (or sleep), has been tough to find. Good food and shows and drinks have been much easier to come by.
Our shows the past two days were a study in contrasts:
Tuesday: When you write a play, especially a comedy, you have a sense of how it's supposed to go. For example, you may have a scene that advances plot but that keeps ringing a bell with jokes as it progresses, so audience gets story and laughs and the energy of each feeds the other.
Tuesday's official opening was among the best examples of that I've experienced. A good sized- house with a constant and loud cackle of laughter. The "morgue scene," in particular, felt like a sheer delight for the audience. It was how I imagined the laughter in my head as I wrote. Magical!
And that was despite an exceptionally high number of "line moments," where actors said things that were not in the play or didn't say things that were. Didn't matter to the audience. They ate up every moment.
Then, today: A show that was SO much more solid, consistent, clear--certainly the best of the three so far.
And light giggles and smiles from the audience (except, for you know, THAT line, and the end...). My partner-in-crew Jess and I exchanged a few worried glances and words when we could. We both felt the show was strong but the audience was terrifyingly quiet.
Then, at curtain call, the the applause simply wouldn't stop. They apparently were with us all the way. And, for the first time, folks came up into the acting area while we were clearing up to talk to us and congratulate us on an excellent show.
Sometimes the quiet audiences are the ones who like you the most.
And it was also edifying, as Lynn and Jess and I wandered around George Square between shows, that folks WANTED fliers for Noir Hamlet--they'd heard about it and wanted to make sure to see it. Flyering is hard -- you get rejected in your attempts to hand out flyers more than actors and playwrights get rejected. To have folks ASK for flyers is amazing.
And we got to two EXCELLENT works: A Slightly Isolated Dog's wild, participatory, insanely hilarious Jekyll & Hyde and Java Dance's Back of the Bus -- an incredibly joyful, immersive dance performance on the top level of a double-decker driving around Edinburgh, with stops for us all to dance in a park, etc. Lovely, fun, unexpected, and affirming in all kinds of ways.
Excited for us to be on stage again tomorrow, and excited to get to more inspired and inspiring work.
Our shows the past two days were a study in contrasts:
Tuesday: When you write a play, especially a comedy, you have a sense of how it's supposed to go. For example, you may have a scene that advances plot but that keeps ringing a bell with jokes as it progresses, so audience gets story and laughs and the energy of each feeds the other.
Tuesday's official opening was among the best examples of that I've experienced. A good sized- house with a constant and loud cackle of laughter. The "morgue scene," in particular, felt like a sheer delight for the audience. It was how I imagined the laughter in my head as I wrote. Magical!
And that was despite an exceptionally high number of "line moments," where actors said things that were not in the play or didn't say things that were. Didn't matter to the audience. They ate up every moment.
Then, today: A show that was SO much more solid, consistent, clear--certainly the best of the three so far.
And light giggles and smiles from the audience (except, for you know, THAT line, and the end...). My partner-in-crew Jess and I exchanged a few worried glances and words when we could. We both felt the show was strong but the audience was terrifyingly quiet.
Then, at curtain call, the the applause simply wouldn't stop. They apparently were with us all the way. And, for the first time, folks came up into the acting area while we were clearing up to talk to us and congratulate us on an excellent show.
Sometimes the quiet audiences are the ones who like you the most.
And it was also edifying, as Lynn and Jess and I wandered around George Square between shows, that folks WANTED fliers for Noir Hamlet--they'd heard about it and wanted to make sure to see it. Flyering is hard -- you get rejected in your attempts to hand out flyers more than actors and playwrights get rejected. To have folks ASK for flyers is amazing.
And we got to two EXCELLENT works: A Slightly Isolated Dog's wild, participatory, insanely hilarious Jekyll & Hyde and Java Dance's Back of the Bus -- an incredibly joyful, immersive dance performance on the top level of a double-decker driving around Edinburgh, with stops for us all to dance in a park, etc. Lovely, fun, unexpected, and affirming in all kinds of ways.
Excited for us to be on stage again tomorrow, and excited to get to more inspired and inspiring work.
12 Aug -- Opening Day!
So, they say the average audience for an Edinburgh Fringe show is six. We had, essentially, a full house for our preview performance today, and they were having a blast.
Were there glitches? You know it. A snafu in the Q-Lab sound software meant there was a gunshot where there definitely should never be a gunshot. Time for improvisation, which (this proud playwright will admit) the audience may have loved more than the play itself. Kudos to Cristhian for saying "BANG" at the moment the gunshot was supposed to happen. In a production where the actors are making "guns" with their pointer fingers and thumbs (we figured TSA would not want us to carry prop weapons on the flight...), it was perfect. And based on the audience response, they thought it was, too.
And SO lovely after the whirlwind of travel, settling in, tech, and FLYERING up and down the Royal Mile, to have a strong show and time to relax, see other shows, enjoy a pint, and stroll a bit in Holyrood Park.
The show some of us saw tonight, Jewbana, had 12-15 people in the audience--in the same venue we are in. I hope our houses stay large.
Click here for some audience reaction (extra points, Boston folks, if you recognize the speakers!)
Tip o' the cap to the producers for getting us this far. Thank you YASPLZ, LLC -- aka Kim Holliday and Bob Murphy -- aka Gertrude and Claude/Ghost/Paolo. They have been amazing to work with.
Were there glitches? You know it. A snafu in the Q-Lab sound software meant there was a gunshot where there definitely should never be a gunshot. Time for improvisation, which (this proud playwright will admit) the audience may have loved more than the play itself. Kudos to Cristhian for saying "BANG" at the moment the gunshot was supposed to happen. In a production where the actors are making "guns" with their pointer fingers and thumbs (we figured TSA would not want us to carry prop weapons on the flight...), it was perfect. And based on the audience response, they thought it was, too.
And SO lovely after the whirlwind of travel, settling in, tech, and FLYERING up and down the Royal Mile, to have a strong show and time to relax, see other shows, enjoy a pint, and stroll a bit in Holyrood Park.
The show some of us saw tonight, Jewbana, had 12-15 people in the audience--in the same venue we are in. I hope our houses stay large.
Click here for some audience reaction (extra points, Boston folks, if you recognize the speakers!)
Tip o' the cap to the producers for getting us this far. Thank you YASPLZ, LLC -- aka Kim Holliday and Bob Murphy -- aka Gertrude and Claude/Ghost/Paolo. They have been amazing to work with.
11 Aug. -- Techflections
Start with the stress, end with the joy, yes?
So, the stress was today's tech -- at least for me. My impression was that I was going to tell the lighting tech the specs, scene by scene, of what we needed, and he would program the board.
Nope.
So, though it was a board I'd never seen (and I hadn't programmed a show since maybe the Bush Administration --won't say which one) , I got to program our show and, in doing so, gain even more respect for all the good folks at Electronic Theater Controls/ETC for designing boards that are mostly intuitive.
And I didn't get to adjust any cues during the run because I'm on the run crew. Uf.
So, I don't completely know how it all will look tomorrow in our preview, and that's still stressing me out. And having to pause for a total of maybe 20 minutes while venue folks aimed stuff and replaced a non-working fixture.
Yeah. It was a thing.
And I'll do it all again next Sunday in our second venue. You can look forward to that post.
But then there was a little time to unwind, a walk to see a GREAT stand-up show that was more a one-person play with some brilliant structuring: Anuvab Pal's Democracy and Disco Dancing--mixing hilarious (loaded word -- as you'll know if you see it) story-telling and comedy with insights about the legacy of the British Raj.
Then a lovely dinner at Safari, the pub which I think is going to become our "local." Amazing range of drinks, stunningly wonderful food, and a "Sunday Pub" atmosphere.
It was our company dinner, and speeches from Bob and Kim, our producers, and words from Cristhian, and the chance to be together after a day of schlepping our set and props, etc through pouring rain brought home just how amazing this all is. That we are here. That we are doing the show. That this team has invested so much time, energy, creativity, and resources into this goofy little play I wrote. That we -- creative challenges and tech stresses notwithstanding -- are a helluva group of people. I'm learning from them all, appreciate them all, and (quite literally) would not be here without them.
How much schlepping, you ask? Cristian said he registered 22,000 (rain-soaked) steps today. That was probably true for all of us.
So the joy is at least balancing the stress. Hope that continues.
Pictured, Cristhian Mancinas-García as a stressed Reynaldo and Yorick as his joyful self. It's all about balance.
Thanks to Tim ( nope, don't know his last name -- sorry ) for the photo!
So, the stress was today's tech -- at least for me. My impression was that I was going to tell the lighting tech the specs, scene by scene, of what we needed, and he would program the board.
Nope.
So, though it was a board I'd never seen (and I hadn't programmed a show since maybe the Bush Administration --won't say which one) , I got to program our show and, in doing so, gain even more respect for all the good folks at Electronic Theater Controls/ETC for designing boards that are mostly intuitive.
And I didn't get to adjust any cues during the run because I'm on the run crew. Uf.
So, I don't completely know how it all will look tomorrow in our preview, and that's still stressing me out. And having to pause for a total of maybe 20 minutes while venue folks aimed stuff and replaced a non-working fixture.
Yeah. It was a thing.
And I'll do it all again next Sunday in our second venue. You can look forward to that post.
But then there was a little time to unwind, a walk to see a GREAT stand-up show that was more a one-person play with some brilliant structuring: Anuvab Pal's Democracy and Disco Dancing--mixing hilarious (loaded word -- as you'll know if you see it) story-telling and comedy with insights about the legacy of the British Raj.
Then a lovely dinner at Safari, the pub which I think is going to become our "local." Amazing range of drinks, stunningly wonderful food, and a "Sunday Pub" atmosphere.
It was our company dinner, and speeches from Bob and Kim, our producers, and words from Cristhian, and the chance to be together after a day of schlepping our set and props, etc through pouring rain brought home just how amazing this all is. That we are here. That we are doing the show. That this team has invested so much time, energy, creativity, and resources into this goofy little play I wrote. That we -- creative challenges and tech stresses notwithstanding -- are a helluva group of people. I'm learning from them all, appreciate them all, and (quite literally) would not be here without them.
How much schlepping, you ask? Cristian said he registered 22,000 (rain-soaked) steps today. That was probably true for all of us.
So the joy is at least balancing the stress. Hope that continues.
Pictured, Cristhian Mancinas-García as a stressed Reynaldo and Yorick as his joyful self. It's all about balance.
Thanks to Tim ( nope, don't know his last name -- sorry ) for the photo!
IS it Aug 9? AuG 10? It's the sleep-deprivation edition of the blog!
Successful execution of F'ham --> Boston --> London --> Edinburgh --> Brae House! The company and guests are ensconced in our two apartments.
Lots of traipsing. Visited both venues (and got a look into the venue where we tech tomorrow and open on Monday). Picked up the order of (I swear I am not making this up) 10,000 fliers. Too many and way too heavy to lug the mile or so from the print collection spot back to our housing, even when split up among us. Also, Edinburgh is NOT as cold as advertised. We're a melting company.
But the furniture for the show is assembled! We may try to catch a show in the venue in which we're teching tomorrow and performing this week.
Tech tomorrow.
And today's handiwork--the assembled table frame, chairs. Coatracks not pictured.
Also, about half the fliers in the white boxes.
ONE LATE HIGHLIGHT:
Walking down the Royal Mile on the way to dinner tonight, we passed by two women with owls perched on their leather gauntlets. We chatted with one for a while--admiring the animal, answering her question about what we were doing. Of course, we told her about the show and offered her one of the flyers we had with us. She refused, letting us know that she had never taken a flyer before. We tried. She said no, we left. Ah, well.
As we were walking into the restaurant, she came running up to us, announcing that yes, she would take our flyer, because we are Americans.
Lots of traipsing. Visited both venues (and got a look into the venue where we tech tomorrow and open on Monday). Picked up the order of (I swear I am not making this up) 10,000 fliers. Too many and way too heavy to lug the mile or so from the print collection spot back to our housing, even when split up among us. Also, Edinburgh is NOT as cold as advertised. We're a melting company.
But the furniture for the show is assembled! We may try to catch a show in the venue in which we're teching tomorrow and performing this week.
Tech tomorrow.
And today's handiwork--the assembled table frame, chairs. Coatracks not pictured.
Also, about half the fliers in the white boxes.
ONE LATE HIGHLIGHT:
Walking down the Royal Mile on the way to dinner tonight, we passed by two women with owls perched on their leather gauntlets. We chatted with one for a while--admiring the animal, answering her question about what we were doing. Of course, we told her about the show and offered her one of the flyers we had with us. She refused, letting us know that she had never taken a flyer before. We tried. She said no, we left. Ah, well.
As we were walking into the restaurant, she came running up to us, announcing that yes, she would take our flyer, because we are Americans.
Thursday, Aug 8: A Fond Farewell to BPT
Line-through, walk-through, and a final pre-fringe run of the show tonight.
Yes, there were mishaps--including all of us somehow getting locked out of the dressing room (more on the amazing generosity of everyone at Boston Playwrights Theatre later in this post, but we did get back in, thanks to Jeffrey's return with a key--probably not how he planned to spend his Thursday night).
But there was also a great run. Last night's open dress audience was very enthusiastic, but they would have loved tonight even more.
And as I wrote in yesterday's post, I feel more a member of the company than "just the playwright" looking on from the back row. And I get to wear a trilby and a trenchcoat on stage, so IT IS ALL WORTH IT.
The packing up took longer than the run-through, but somehow, all the props got into one suitcase and one backpack, and the costumes into two more (with Noir Hamlet T-shirts scattered throughout).
It's been a rush getting this show back on its feet, planning for the flexibility of getting it on stage VERY soon in theaters none of us have seen. And, without the generosity of ALL the folks at Boston Playwrights Theatre for allowing us to use the space to rehearse, I don't know where we'd be. HUGE thanks to Kate, Jacob, Alexa, Jeffrey -- and anyone else I'm not aware of.
Next stage in the adventure tomorrow into Saturday. Framingham --> Boston --> London --> Edinburgh --> Brae House. We'll see how TSA feels about my carry-on, which has the show's ten drinking glasses and a large mason jar filled with acrylic ice cubes. And nothing else. Have props, will travel.
Here's my grad school roommate, David Skeele, standing outside our venue this week, almost as happy to see our poster up as we will be.
Yes, there were mishaps--including all of us somehow getting locked out of the dressing room (more on the amazing generosity of everyone at Boston Playwrights Theatre later in this post, but we did get back in, thanks to Jeffrey's return with a key--probably not how he planned to spend his Thursday night).
But there was also a great run. Last night's open dress audience was very enthusiastic, but they would have loved tonight even more.
And as I wrote in yesterday's post, I feel more a member of the company than "just the playwright" looking on from the back row. And I get to wear a trilby and a trenchcoat on stage, so IT IS ALL WORTH IT.
The packing up took longer than the run-through, but somehow, all the props got into one suitcase and one backpack, and the costumes into two more (with Noir Hamlet T-shirts scattered throughout).
It's been a rush getting this show back on its feet, planning for the flexibility of getting it on stage VERY soon in theaters none of us have seen. And, without the generosity of ALL the folks at Boston Playwrights Theatre for allowing us to use the space to rehearse, I don't know where we'd be. HUGE thanks to Kate, Jacob, Alexa, Jeffrey -- and anyone else I'm not aware of.
Next stage in the adventure tomorrow into Saturday. Framingham --> Boston --> London --> Edinburgh --> Brae House. We'll see how TSA feels about my carry-on, which has the show's ten drinking glasses and a large mason jar filled with acrylic ice cubes. And nothing else. Have props, will travel.
Here's my grad school roommate, David Skeele, standing outside our venue this week, almost as happy to see our poster up as we will be.
WEDNESDAY, AUG 7: A First Audience
Tonight was Noir Hamlet's open dress rehearsal--the first time the show went up in front of an audience since June 2018. What happens in a year? Some moments got more laughs than last year, some got fewer, and that'll continue to evolve. There were moments that caught fire like a great performance will and moments that weren't there yet.
But for me it was about hearing the play in a way I've never heard it before--because I've never been on stage in it before.
As I mentioned in an earlier post, I'm an in-character, onstage crew member for the show. Moving props, interacting with ASM-stands-for-awesome-crew leader Jess and the actors creates an experience unlike any I've had as a playwright, and it's an experience that comes with a great loss and a great gain.
The loss is that I feel removed from the writing process in a way that's a little unsettling. Yes, I can still get excited when actors find a new moment or play a moment in a way that's illuminating. But I miss the ability to listen for what I need to do as a writer. To hear moments that are oh-so-close but in need of a tweak in the text. Or to have that miraculous vision of how the play will be better without those two pages.
But what I get is a completely different sense of connection with the company. And that's a huge gain. Playwriting, even in rehearsal, can feel lonely. You're sort of connected to the company, but you're mostly connected to this thing you wrote months or years ago, and you're focused on the reshaping you need to do to make it fully alive on stage, and you know the real work is going to be after rehearsal when you revise. It's different this time, and it's wonderful to be immersed in it this way.
Especially when the laughter is really rolling, as it was at times tonight. As a playwright, I can't help but think of how "this moment" is structured to feed "the next moment." Tonight, it was lovely, in those laughs (and gasps!) tonight, to simply listen, breathe, and enjoy the moments themselves.
Fellow playwrights? Try it out. Join the crew for one of your shows.
Meanwhile, pictured below, the first page of the legal pad, from the first day of working on the show in August 2016. I think we're all glad I came up with something better than "Some walls are like rules. They're meant to be broken." And that Horatio/Ophelia became Rae Chio.
But for me it was about hearing the play in a way I've never heard it before--because I've never been on stage in it before.
As I mentioned in an earlier post, I'm an in-character, onstage crew member for the show. Moving props, interacting with ASM-stands-for-awesome-crew leader Jess and the actors creates an experience unlike any I've had as a playwright, and it's an experience that comes with a great loss and a great gain.
The loss is that I feel removed from the writing process in a way that's a little unsettling. Yes, I can still get excited when actors find a new moment or play a moment in a way that's illuminating. But I miss the ability to listen for what I need to do as a writer. To hear moments that are oh-so-close but in need of a tweak in the text. Or to have that miraculous vision of how the play will be better without those two pages.
But what I get is a completely different sense of connection with the company. And that's a huge gain. Playwriting, even in rehearsal, can feel lonely. You're sort of connected to the company, but you're mostly connected to this thing you wrote months or years ago, and you're focused on the reshaping you need to do to make it fully alive on stage, and you know the real work is going to be after rehearsal when you revise. It's different this time, and it's wonderful to be immersed in it this way.
Especially when the laughter is really rolling, as it was at times tonight. As a playwright, I can't help but think of how "this moment" is structured to feed "the next moment." Tonight, it was lovely, in those laughs (and gasps!) tonight, to simply listen, breathe, and enjoy the moments themselves.
Fellow playwrights? Try it out. Join the crew for one of your shows.
Meanwhile, pictured below, the first page of the legal pad, from the first day of working on the show in August 2016. I think we're all glad I came up with something better than "Some walls are like rules. They're meant to be broken." And that Horatio/Ophelia became Rae Chio.
Tuesday, Aug 6: Make mine a double
What a day. What a rehearsal. Our first double run.
Our first-week Edinburgh Festival Fringe site gives us 75 minutes in the space. The door opens to let us in, we get our stuff from storage, set our props and costumes, do the show, do the curtain call, pack it all up, store everything away again, and exit the theater.
Total time: 75 minutes. For a (theoretically) 55 minute show.
So tonight, there was strategizing, there were tactical deployments of bubble-wrap, and all hands were on deck from all seven company members. We went through the whole process twice, once in "second venue" configuration and once in "first venue" configuration (each week at festival is in a different space).
We were under six minutes from "doors are open, you may enter the theater" to the first line of dialogue. And by the second time, we were under four minutes from "final bow" to "we're packed up, out the door, and on the street."
Not bad for four actors, costumes for seven of the eight characters (spoiler alert: Yorick performs in the nude), four bottles of bourbon, two ice buckets, a dozen glasses -- plus cigarettes, shooting targets, a desk, four chairs, a gurney, a floor mic, two coat racks -- and (of course) the telephone. Why, black rotary dial, of course.
Run #1 was 57 minutes. Run #2 was 56. Close.
Tomorrow? Open dress. Our first audience for this incarnation of the show. It was funny a year ago. Is it still?
And will they like our solution to how to get five handguns through airport security?
Stay tuned.
Our first-week Edinburgh Festival Fringe site gives us 75 minutes in the space. The door opens to let us in, we get our stuff from storage, set our props and costumes, do the show, do the curtain call, pack it all up, store everything away again, and exit the theater.
Total time: 75 minutes. For a (theoretically) 55 minute show.
So tonight, there was strategizing, there were tactical deployments of bubble-wrap, and all hands were on deck from all seven company members. We went through the whole process twice, once in "second venue" configuration and once in "first venue" configuration (each week at festival is in a different space).
We were under six minutes from "doors are open, you may enter the theater" to the first line of dialogue. And by the second time, we were under four minutes from "final bow" to "we're packed up, out the door, and on the street."
Not bad for four actors, costumes for seven of the eight characters (spoiler alert: Yorick performs in the nude), four bottles of bourbon, two ice buckets, a dozen glasses -- plus cigarettes, shooting targets, a desk, four chairs, a gurney, a floor mic, two coat racks -- and (of course) the telephone. Why, black rotary dial, of course.
Run #1 was 57 minutes. Run #2 was 56. Close.
Tomorrow? Open dress. Our first audience for this incarnation of the show. It was funny a year ago. Is it still?
And will they like our solution to how to get five handguns through airport security?
Stay tuned.
MONDAY, AUG 5: PREPPING FOR OUr Second VENUE TURNS UP THE HEAT
Of course a fairly spectacular run on Sunday leads to...
Monday was a night of heat, sweat, and logistics, starting with a production team meeting to strategize how to get all our props packed and transported, then a company meeting with our producers and stage manager to go over details (We have a VAN arranged from the airport to our housing? Yes, our producers are that fantastic!). Lots of talk about what apps to use for security and finance, final fittings with our costume designer Richelle Devereaux-Murray, etc. etc.
Then, as the temperature in the theater rose and rose, a reworking of the staging to match our second week Fringe venue. The differences in the two venues make for tough shifts in how we move through the space, where we enter and exit, how the large prop movements are to be choreographed--and all we have to go on is a scale drawing that doesn't really give us a feel for the second venue. Technical data on the melting point of actor and techie brains can be provided on request.
Yeah, with the air conditioning off, decision-making got tougher and tougher. Maureen, our stage manager, wisely called a halt to the proceedings before working the final scene, just to have time to turn the (loud) A/C back on for a bit. Then, back at it, with renewed energy, clearer heads, and even new comic moments.
Thank goodness for the cool air, the Lemon Oreos provided by Paul Melendy, and -- once again -- pretzels and mustard from director Joe Antoun.
One more closed rehearsal tonight before tomorrow's open dress, and it'll be our first night with two runs (the first configured for the second week's venue, the second for the first week's).
Even in the heat, even when working through staging updates starts to feel like taking college board exams again, this group is so much fun to work with, and these producers take such good care of us.
I'm a lucky playwright.
(L-R: Bob Murphy: Ghost/Claude/Paolo/Producer, Kim Holliday: Gertrude/Producer, Paul Melendy: Little H, Cristhian Mancinas-García, Rae Chio/Reynaldo)
Monday was a night of heat, sweat, and logistics, starting with a production team meeting to strategize how to get all our props packed and transported, then a company meeting with our producers and stage manager to go over details (We have a VAN arranged from the airport to our housing? Yes, our producers are that fantastic!). Lots of talk about what apps to use for security and finance, final fittings with our costume designer Richelle Devereaux-Murray, etc. etc.
Then, as the temperature in the theater rose and rose, a reworking of the staging to match our second week Fringe venue. The differences in the two venues make for tough shifts in how we move through the space, where we enter and exit, how the large prop movements are to be choreographed--and all we have to go on is a scale drawing that doesn't really give us a feel for the second venue. Technical data on the melting point of actor and techie brains can be provided on request.
Yeah, with the air conditioning off, decision-making got tougher and tougher. Maureen, our stage manager, wisely called a halt to the proceedings before working the final scene, just to have time to turn the (loud) A/C back on for a bit. Then, back at it, with renewed energy, clearer heads, and even new comic moments.
Thank goodness for the cool air, the Lemon Oreos provided by Paul Melendy, and -- once again -- pretzels and mustard from director Joe Antoun.
One more closed rehearsal tonight before tomorrow's open dress, and it'll be our first night with two runs (the first configured for the second week's venue, the second for the first week's).
Even in the heat, even when working through staging updates starts to feel like taking college board exams again, this group is so much fun to work with, and these producers take such good care of us.
I'm a lucky playwright.
(L-R: Bob Murphy: Ghost/Claude/Paolo/Producer, Kim Holliday: Gertrude/Producer, Paul Melendy: Little H, Cristhian Mancinas-García, Rae Chio/Reynaldo)
SUNDAY, AUG 4: One Week from First Tech at Fringe
So, the background:
In 2016-2017, I wrote a ridiculous play, Noir Hamlet, envisioning Hamlet (aka "Little H") as a 1940's private detective, taking over the Elsinore Detective Agency from his late father, Big H. It was a blast to write, and a welcome break from the "great American immigration drama" I'd been struggling with for years. I wrote it largely to amuse myself, as a break from "serious work."
So, of course, it got produced almost immediately -- by Joe Antoun's Boston company Centastage, in June of 2018. We had awesome reviews, full houses, a Norton nomination for Outstanding New Script, and were named an EDGEMedia "Best of Boston Theater 2018," on a list that included this show called Hamilton, which you may have heard about.
During the Centastage run, Bob Murphy (playing Claude, Ghost, and Paolo Niro in the show) said we should grab a drink after one of the performances. He wanted to ask me a question.
We headed to Metropolis and imbibed and chatted with a couple of friends. When they left, Bob leveled with me: taking a show to the Edinburgh Fringe was on his bucket list, and he wanted to take Noir Hamlet. Would I let him have the option for six months to investigate? Since nobody else was approaching me about taking the show to Edinburgh, and since he was paying for the tequila, it seemed worth a shot.
Bob and Kim Holliday (playing Gertrude in the proposed Fringe production) formed the company YASPLZ, LLC to handle all the details, and the project was on.
Thirteen months since that little drink, we're five days from hopping on a British Airways flight and taking the show -- now a 55-minute, streamlined version -- to Edinburgh for a two-week run.
Most of the Boston cast are still with us, along with Centastage's director Joe Antoun. Bob is again playing Claude, Ghost, and Paolo; Kim is playing Gertrude; Paul Melendy is again playing Little H, and Cristhian Mancinas-García is once again with us as Little H's secretary/love interest/cantante/possible femme fatale Rae Chio and coroner Reynaldo Mori. Maureen Lane is stage managing and Jess Meyer is again "Fifth Business"/ASM/Reigning Monarch of the Stage Slap.
Somewhere along the way, I became not just the playwright but also the Production Manager.
Then also the Lighting Designer.
Then also the Technical Director.
And finally, an "in-character," on-stage crew member.
Never in a million years...
We're a week into a very rushed rehearsal schedule. Yesterday's first run was 68 minutes (a problem, since we're only booked for a 65-minute slot in the second venue). Today was 58. We're moving in the right direction.
I guess taking more than 30 high school productions on the road for a drama festival has prepped me. I mean, that's the hope.
I'll post along the way for any who are interested in following the journey.
Also, today was National Chocolate Chip Cookie Day. Yorick was happy to participate.
(Credit to Jess for the photo. And the cookie.)
In 2016-2017, I wrote a ridiculous play, Noir Hamlet, envisioning Hamlet (aka "Little H") as a 1940's private detective, taking over the Elsinore Detective Agency from his late father, Big H. It was a blast to write, and a welcome break from the "great American immigration drama" I'd been struggling with for years. I wrote it largely to amuse myself, as a break from "serious work."
So, of course, it got produced almost immediately -- by Joe Antoun's Boston company Centastage, in June of 2018. We had awesome reviews, full houses, a Norton nomination for Outstanding New Script, and were named an EDGEMedia "Best of Boston Theater 2018," on a list that included this show called Hamilton, which you may have heard about.
During the Centastage run, Bob Murphy (playing Claude, Ghost, and Paolo Niro in the show) said we should grab a drink after one of the performances. He wanted to ask me a question.
We headed to Metropolis and imbibed and chatted with a couple of friends. When they left, Bob leveled with me: taking a show to the Edinburgh Fringe was on his bucket list, and he wanted to take Noir Hamlet. Would I let him have the option for six months to investigate? Since nobody else was approaching me about taking the show to Edinburgh, and since he was paying for the tequila, it seemed worth a shot.
Bob and Kim Holliday (playing Gertrude in the proposed Fringe production) formed the company YASPLZ, LLC to handle all the details, and the project was on.
Thirteen months since that little drink, we're five days from hopping on a British Airways flight and taking the show -- now a 55-minute, streamlined version -- to Edinburgh for a two-week run.
Most of the Boston cast are still with us, along with Centastage's director Joe Antoun. Bob is again playing Claude, Ghost, and Paolo; Kim is playing Gertrude; Paul Melendy is again playing Little H, and Cristhian Mancinas-García is once again with us as Little H's secretary/love interest/cantante/possible femme fatale Rae Chio and coroner Reynaldo Mori. Maureen Lane is stage managing and Jess Meyer is again "Fifth Business"/ASM/Reigning Monarch of the Stage Slap.
Somewhere along the way, I became not just the playwright but also the Production Manager.
Then also the Lighting Designer.
Then also the Technical Director.
And finally, an "in-character," on-stage crew member.
Never in a million years...
We're a week into a very rushed rehearsal schedule. Yesterday's first run was 68 minutes (a problem, since we're only booked for a 65-minute slot in the second venue). Today was 58. We're moving in the right direction.
I guess taking more than 30 high school productions on the road for a drama festival has prepped me. I mean, that's the hope.
I'll post along the way for any who are interested in following the journey.
Also, today was National Chocolate Chip Cookie Day. Yorick was happy to participate.
(Credit to Jess for the photo. And the cookie.)
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