Showing posts with label william franke. Show all posts
Showing posts with label william franke. Show all posts

Saturday, March 24, 2012

Lies & Truth in the Theatre

from William Franke, Director of Development & Communications

Much has been made in the past few weeks of Mike Daisey’s one-man show The Agony and the Ecstasy of Steve Jobs, particularly the truthfulness of it.  Perhaps none of this would have come up had it stayed in the theater and not been presented as truth on This American Life, where it transitioned from theatre to journalism.

(Full disclosure: I have not seen the live performance at the Public Theater. But like many people*, I was enthralled with the half hour excerpt of Daisey’s performance presented on This American Life. I was equally captivated by the episode that they ran last week, “Retraction.”)

I know some people who find it ridiculous that Daisey is being lambasted for being less than truthful. They repeat Daisey’s defense that he is an artist of the theatre and that his monologue—a piece of theatre—does not need to meet the same rigors that a piece of pure journalism does.

The reason this sticks in my craw is that it reminds me of a refrain I’ve heard over and over again: that actors = liars. (A few examples: A friend of mine was told by her in-laws “We can never be sure if you’re telling the truth, because you’re an actor.” I was once approached by a former coworker to pose on the phone as her grown daughter’s boss to give a glowing recommendation to a potential employer. When I refused, she said “C’mon, you can do it. You’re an actor.”)

My understanding is that, while Daisey created a theatrical piece, he did so as a storyteller, purportedly relating stories of his actual experiences without caveat, without footnote. Instead, what was brought to light was that he made much of it up to manipulate the emotions of the audience.

Yes, actors in any play are up there on stage saying things they don’t mean, things they may not personally believe, pretending to be people they aren’t. But when actor and audience enter the theater, there is a contract, an understanding between both parties about what is going on. Even with plays based on historical events, audiences understand that liberties are taken: historical personages and events are merged for the sake of dramatic expediency. The irony of this situation is that in a room full of people sharing an evening of these agreed-upon lies, something transcendent often occurs. Greater truths are discovered. That is the power of theatre when everyone is in it together.

Wednesday, January 25, 2012

Commitment

from William Franke, Director of Development & Communications
Those of you who have been reading this blog & paying close attention will note that this post is a few days later than usual. Which is ironic, as I am usually the one cracking the whip to get those other jokers to turn in their blog posts (and then they turn in some great stuff, don't they?).

It's this state of affairs that has gotten me to thinking about the word "commitment" for a couple of days now. It does seem like commitment is a pretty rare commodity nowadays. Meteorologists change their forecasts; corporations push back their product launches; politicians renege on their promises; judges & lawyers adjourn court dates; blog posts come in a few days late...

But when I think about the theatre, I cannot help but be a bit proud at the level of commitment shown by all involved. Despite the bad rap that artists often get, their commitment is often the strongest thing going. When you go to the theater, that curtain comes up because all of the artists involved made a commitment—to put on that show, to share something with the audience who have taken the time, spent the money, and are giving their attention to the folks on stage. They made a commitment of their time, talent & energy months in advance (often for little pay) to design the lights, write the score & design the sound, craft the set, learn the lines, delve into the characters...to create this world to share with an audience for 90 minutes a night (and beyond the walls of the theater)...to meet that curtain deadline with a quality product worth sharing. 

There's a reason the old adage goes "The show must go on."

I'm not thinking about this only because I'm behind schedule posting to this blog, though. As those of you who follow us on the Facebook know, on Friday the 13th, a number of our staff & design team did a walk-through of the Peter Jay Sharp theater on west 42nd Street. Yesterday, Jud & Christa (our Artistic Director & Associate Artistic Director) returned to put down the deposit on the space—to make a commitment to presenting our next mainstage production there (that's a sneak-peek, first-time announcement for those of you reading this).

Over the past year or so, a number of you have shown your support—monetarily & spiritually—because you have seen what we do and you believe it is worth sharing with the New York community. In return we've made a commitment to keep putting community back in theatre and do so by producing a full season. I'm proud that we've taken this next step in honoring that commitment, and I look forward to sharing it all with you when the curtain goes up.

Monday, December 19, 2011

Mother Teresa Would Want You to Donate to the Arts


from William Franke, Director of Development & Communications
Ahh, it's the holiday season...when everyone is so busy wrapping up work projects, shopping for gifts, going to parties...and attending fundraising benefits for nonprofit organizations.

I know that for me, it's hard to prioritize which types of charities to give to. Even for people in the arts, it seems like there are so many more important causes out there.

Then I heard this story on The Moth, which is a collection of real people telling their true stories on stage. The guest host for the Moth’s Chicago story slam evening, Peter Sagal (host of NPR’s news quiz show Wait Wait...Don’t Tell Me) related this story at the end of the evening that his friend, Morgan, had told him about Mother Teresa:

When she was younger, Morgan was a dramaturg and, for whatever reason, she became quite infatuated with Mother Teresa and thought her the apotheosis of humanity. Her obsession with her ran to the point that, when she learned Mother Teresa was in New York for some kind of official visit (back in the ’80s), she tracked down the hotel she was staying at and went to see her. She caught up with Mother Teresa as she was getting out of a car (with a cadre of nuns) and proceeded to gush “Oh, Mother Teresa, the work you do is so wonderful; the work you do is so important and it’s so wonderful and I just want to come to Calcutta and do that work with you. Because I just think it’s so wonderful.” 

And Mother Teresa gently shook her head and said “No, no, you don’t do this work because you think it’s good; you do this work because you so love the poor people of Calcutta with whom I work, that you can’t be away from them. That’s when you come and you do this work.”
Morgan stood there, realizing she’d been gently rebuked, when Mother Teresa asked what it was she did. Morgan replied “Well, what I do is not important. What I do is I work in a theater and I help put on plays, and what use is that?”
To which Mother Teresa replied, “There are so many different kinds of famine in this world. In my country there is a famine of the body. In this country, there is a famine of the spirit. Stay here and feed your people.”
With your help, we promise to continue doing our part to nourish & feed the people in our community as best we can.

Now, you may have noticed that Theatre East is not throwing a year-end fundraising gala, but that doesn't mean we aren't trying to raise funds! We'll be in touch about a live event in the spring. But for now, since we know everyone is so busy, we thought we'd keep the time commitment low with an event on Facebook; or you can go directly to our website.
With your donations, we'll be able to continue bringing you plays like The Solider Dreams and Eye of God.
We're currently ramping up for our most ambitious season yet—our first full season, starting off in fall 2012 with the WORLD premiere of Bennett Windheim’s Normalcy, a play that uses transracial adoption as a catalyst to have an honest and candid dialogue about race in America through the prism of a well-meaning, well-to-do white couple contemplating the adoption of an African-American child. We'll also be continuing our educational efforts with the New Rites Collective.

Thank you so much for your support, now at the end of the year & always.

Saturday, November 19, 2011

"I Hadn't Grown Up Enough to Know It"


from William Franke, Director of Development & Communications

Thanks to everyone who read last week's post...it certainly seemed to resonate with a lot of folks out there.
I came across this video of Patsy Rodenburg on YouTube that I just had to share. Ms. Rodenburg is a Master Voice and Shakespeare teacher, and this video is from a series of talks she gave at Michael Howard Studios and it tells a very similar tale to what we discussed last week.

The whole video is worth watching, but this abbreviated clip (3 minutes) gets to the heart of the matter. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did.

Sunday, November 13, 2011

What Do You Want to Be When You Grow Up?

from William Franke, Director of Development & Communications

Yesterday I went to see a wonderful production of Shakespeare's Measure for Measure at NYU's Gallatin School. I'm friends with the director and also know one of the performers from working with her in a Gallatin production of 1001 last fall (I was there as a guest artist).

Now, Shakespeare is wonderful and there have been all kinds of articles and musings about how applicable he is to all disciplines & walks of life. But what struck me was my conversation with the young woman I worked with before. She's now a sophomore and when I asked how things were going, she was busy, of course, but she said she was also "figuring out what I want to be when I grow up." While she had a realistic view of this task, she felt a sense of urgency; even though she agreed when I told her she had time yet to figure it out, I could tell she was anxious (as many students are) to get it settled. (She had at least determined that she no longer desired to be a lawyer, so that helped narrow it down.)

I like to think that her experience in the theatre will only serve her well later in life, no matter what course she chooses. The time management skills she's developing when rehearsing a play are invaluable, because she's working both individually and collaboratively with a larger group. There are those times spent exploring the text in rehearsal, but that follows grappling with its mysteries alone, on her own time, so that she has something to bring to the table in those group sessions (not to mention learning her lines on her own time, so her nose isn't always stuck in the script).

The group dynamic should also prove beneficial. Regardless of the laurels bestowed on any one person for any one achievement, the fact is that no one truly accomplishes anything alone, whether it's landing on the moon, winning an election or a championship, creating the next iPhone, or discovering the next great medical breakthrough.

But really the most important way this student's theatre experiences will have an impact on her later life is something we can't pinpoint now. Something intangible now will come as an epiphany years down the road. I recently read a story about the late Steve Jobs and his similar experience while at Reed College, where he took a calligraphy course:
I learned about serif and san serif typefaces, about varying the amount of space between different letter combinations, about what makes great typography great. It was beautiful, historical, artistically subtle in a way that science can’t capture, and I found it fascinating.
None of this had even a hope of any practical application in my life. But ten years later, when we were designing the first Macintosh computer, it all came back to me. And we designed it all into the Mac. It was the first computer with beautiful typography. If I had never dropped in on that single course in college, the Mac would have never had multiple typefaces or proportionally spaced fonts. And since Windows just copied the Mac, it’s likely that no personal computer would have them....

[emphasis added]
And it's this subtle, unquantifiable effect that both theatre & the arts has that is perhaps the most profound. This ability to permeate our consciousness, only to bubble up in unexpected ways—whether we're students (lucky enough to be) studying the arts in (the ever-dwindling) arts programs in schools, or a member of the audience at a play. I firmly believe that there will be someone out there, maybe even at our next reading (on November 21st), who at some point will have a chord struck deep within them and realize how that piece of art relates to a challenge they're facing in their own life, and that realization, that connection will help them overcome that challenge, triumph & endure. Or maybe even help them realize what they want to be when they grow up.
 
Hey, Theatre East-ers, we want to know:  
What is the most profound effect—immediate or delayed—that theatre (whether as theatre-maker or audience) has had on your life? Let us know in the comments.


Saturday, October 1, 2011

How Sausage, er Theatre, is Made

from William Franke, Director of Development 

Recently I was listening to the podcast of THIS AMERICAN LIFE, episode 241: "20 Acts in 60 Minutes." I really enjoyed this particular episode, not only because it was a radio show inspired by a theatre company (the Neo-Futurists), but also because one of the 20 stories made me think about the magic of theatre.

About halfway through, at the 34:16 mark, they share a story from Jim Bodman, Chairman of Vienna Sausage Co. in Chicago. I recommend listening to the whole story but briefly: Bodman tells the story of how the company built a brand new, state-of-the-art facility in 1970, replacing their old factory, which was actually a warren of buildings on Chicago's south side that was built up by gradually buying up buildings over the course of 70 years, until the factory complex occupied an entire city block. Once they moved into their fancy new digs, however, they faced a problem: the hot dogs weren't coming out the same. They didn't have the same distinctive red color or desired snap. They couldn't figure out what was wrong, since the ingredients, spices, cooking time, everything was the same.

After a year and a half, they still haven't figured it out...until one night, when some guys from the plant are out at a bar, reminiscing over drinks about the old days in the former plant. They start talking about Irving, a fixture at the old plant who knew everyone, whose job was to take the uncooked sausages to the smokehouse. But, given the "Rube Goldberg" layout of the old factory, it took Irving half an hour on a circuitous route to get from A to B. And they realized: Irving & his trip was the missing secret ingredient.
 

With apologies to Christa Kimlicko Jones & any other vegetarians out there, this story of how the sausage is made got me to thinking about how theatre is made. No, not (just) that it happens over drinks in a bar, but also how, once the house lights go down, and the lights come up onstage, and the first words are spoken, something magical happens, and it's easy to forget all the many ingredients—all the people who come together to make it happen; all the hours spent designing, rehearsing & discussing; all the ideas that get thrown out, tossed around, tossed out or modified; all the paperwork that has to have i's dotted and t's crossed; all the collaboration—that go into making that magic. (Scott O'Brien, our Resident Composer & Sound Designer, keeps telling me that you don't want to show people how the sausage is made, but if you want to take a peek at how we've made it in the past, you can check out our YouTube channel.)


Saturday, September 3, 2011

The Reluctant Producer

from William Franke, Director of Development

Each time someone asks me how I got involved with Theatre East, I preface the story with "I never wanted to be a producer because I knew how much work it was." Whenever I'm in a production or on a set, I can't help but be aware of how many people it takes to realize the finished film or play, how much effort goes into it. And I just wanted to focus on my acting.

Of course, if you've met the folks who founded Theatre East, you'll understand how easily I was drawn in. I first met Jud & Christa back in late 2005; we'd been acquainted a little while when they invited my wife, Jody, & me to attend a show they produced (pre-Theatre East) called HARVEST. We were so blown away by the quality of the show on all levels that when they told me a little while later that they were forming Theatre East with Joseph Mitchell Parks & some others, my enthusiasm bubbled over. I kept foisting upon them all these ideas I
had been storing up over the years of things I would do if I were to be a producer (which I wasn't). Eventually they were compelled to ask me to join the company and, later, the staff.

While there is something to be said for producing as an avenue to creating your own opportunities, the real driving force behind Theatre East that keeps us going is creating opportunities for the community. For example, our Educational Outreach program The New Rites Collective. Thanks in part to the insistence of
Raquel Almazan & Sean Turner, we started that program much earlier in the evolution of our company than I would have thought possible. To be honest, I also wasn't sure if the world needed another theatre company's educational outreach program; but when I saw the impact it was having on the students who took part, for whom it unlocked an understanding of themselves they might not have arrived at otherwise, I realized that it was an essential component of how Theatre East can help give back to the community.

The same is true of the plays we produce. To paraphrase Wallace Shawn*, we believe the third act of a great play takes place in the bars & coffee shops after the audience has left the theater and continues to discuss the play. We hope to take it even further and produce plays that get our community talking & investigating not only the play they've just seen, but the deeper issues the play raises; plays that serve not only as topics for spirited discussion, but more as springboards to conversations about even greater matters that affect our community.

Of course, all of this is even more work than I ever imagined it would be. And yet, it's invigorating to collaborate with such committed people on work that is even more important than I initially envisioned. I hope you'll help us realize these goals by being a part of our community, whether it's at our mainstage shows, at our monthly 3rd Monday Mixers at O'Lunney's in Times Square, our Neighborhood Reading Series, or any of the places & spaces in between. We're all in this together.

Thanks,
Bill

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* click here for an essay by Wallace Shawn that is an interesting read
(but not the source of the paraphrased quote)