Saturday, September 20, 2014

The Last Unicorn, the musical?

Now that this cat is out of the bag, I feel like I ought to share that this is a real possibility. This is a long standing dream of mine, and it's incredible (and humbling) to be coming along for at least a part of the journey! Link to the playbill.com story below.

http://www.playbill.com/news/article/josh-duhamel-and-fergie-grooming-the-last-unicorn-as-broadway-musical-331023


Sunday, July 6, 2014

Coming this summer- Coraline the Musical!

Hi guys, just checking in to let you know that I'm directing the Chicago (and Midwest) premiere of the musical Coraline adapted by Stephin Merritt and David Greenspan from the beloved Neil Gaiman fantasy novel. Check out our website below:

http://www.coralinechicago.com

And here's the link to get tickets:

http://coralinechicago.brownpapertickets.com

I'll be blogging a bit on the website blog if you want to find out more about the show and our process. Hope to see you at the show!

Sunday, November 27, 2011

Adapting "The Innkeeper's Song" - Here we Go...

As I've said previously on this blog, in addition to being a huge fan of The Last Unicorn, I'm also a big fan of Peter S. Beagle's other works, including The Innkeeper's Song. Even though adapting The Innkeeper's Song presents some unique challenges, I'm determined to give it a shot. I've already taken stabs at a couple of scenes, and am mulling over how I'd want to stage and/or represent some of the more difficult (i.e. impossible?) to stage moments in the show. Tough issues to solve in this adaptation-

-Keeping the awesome changes in perspective without making the script nothing but first-person narration.

-Nyateneri/Soukyan. Two actors, one male and one female? One actress? A transgender performer? Change the script to such a drastic extent that the gender issue doesn't come up (I hate the idea of that last one, but that is what would be easiest...)

-Horses. This story has lots and lots of riding on horses, which is difficult to represent effectively on stage but also too important to this story to ignore/write around. I know one way to solve this but worry that I'm cribbing too much from the aesthetic of >ahem< another company. (i.e. bicycles...)

-And in general, what can be cut and what must be kept? Adapting novels to the stage is always problematic in that way- you have to willing to 'kill some babies' or else you'll be stuck with a six-hour epic that no one wants to watch.

Wish me luck!

If You Want to License The Last Unicorn...

Is your company or group interested in performing this adaptation of The Last Unicorn? It is now being licensed by Next Gen Publications. Please find a link to their page on the script below:

http://www.nextgenpublications.com/musicals-last-unicorn.htm

Sunday, October 3, 2010

Has it been four months?

Wow. Time flies- I got a new day job, and I've been busy with a couple of other things- helping with another theater company's subscription drive, for one thing, and also getting ready to market Promethean Theatre Ensemble's next show. Also, I've been working on a couple of writing projects. Including one I felt like Last Unicorn fans might want to know about....you know that other Peter S. Beagle book I really like? The one I thought was actually impossible to adapt to the stage? Yes, that one.

I started a draft last week.

Wish me luck!

Wednesday, April 28, 2010

How Theater Failed America

As probably all six people who actually read this blog already know, I'm an ensemble member with a small storefront theatre company in town. I'm also in charge of their marketing and PR (by the way, come see our production of Spring Awakening, the gripping original play by Frank Wedekind, running through May 9! Yeah, I still got it). I've been mulling over several items lately, including Mike Daisey's monologue How Theater Failed America, which I saw this past Monday (better late than never, right? Definitely, in this case). It was delightful, hilarious, thought provoking, and a lot of it seems to be sticking with me, at least for now. One of the reasons that's kind of amazing is that, as he tells us early on, "This is a story you already know." I think the reason it still mattered so much to me to see him do that is that, as he puts it, he's doing an incredibly rare thing on stage these days- telling the truth. To hear him say some of the things he does on the stage of that particular theater (in a studio space at that particular theater, naturally) struck me as pretty ballsy even if it actually wasn't. Not as ballsy as if he were invited to do that show Upstairs at Chicago Shakespeare or in the Owen at the Goodman, but still, you can't help but wonder how many of the accusations he levels accurately fit the very institution within which he is performing. The unspoken philosophy that actors are vermin, or that artists are infinitely less important than survival of the institution, and in particular the building, where the art is taking place.
I left the place after a chat with Mr. Daisey himself (which also amazed me; after talking for something like two hours straight, he continued to be very generous with his time and conversation after the show) all fired up, but the main question burning in my mind is this: what can I, personally, do to help with this situation today? It's hard to answer- I'm part of a theater company, but it's a small itinerant operation with very little money. It's true, we're just as guilty as some of these larger institutions of underpaying our artists, but it's not like we have piles of cash being squirreled away for some capital campaign for a building- it's not even as if we're giving it to administrative staff instead: we're poor. We at least are definitely built as an ensemble of artists- and not just artists; most or all of us are actor/staff hybrids like me (i.e., one of our actresses is our Development Director as well; same for our Literary Manager; our Business Manager is also the company's resident Stage Manager, our Artistic and Excutive Directors frequently perform in or direct our plays)...except, all this is minus the money. We all have to cling to day jobs as our life support. Nobody who spends time working for our company is making any kind of real money doing it. Still, I'm doing what I can. I spoke with our Executive Director about How Theater Failed America yesterday and told him flat out that if we ever do a capital campaign I'm adamant that we do one to endow chairs for artists before we ever, ever, raise money to build a building. I'm not sure he agrees with me- he had some things to say about the importance of having a single 'sacred space' in which our community gathers. And I can see that point of view too- in many ways, to me a theater is a temple. This art form plays that significant a role in my life. But that doesn't mean that we need to build a gaudy palace for our god while the high priests and acolytes are starving and begging in the streets. It's like Mr. Daisey says- once the audience is past the pretty lobby, the lights go down and they can't even see the space- it's only the *art* that will matter, finally. (Though if I can offer a quibble, Mr. Daisey, there's something to be said for having comfortable seating at least. I don't know about you, but I've definitely had difficulty enjoying a theater performance because the seat in which I was placed had become viciously, ass-punishingly uncomfortable after about the first forty five minutes!) I'm also going to try to get everyone I can, especially in my company, to see this show. Mr. Daisey is very persuasive- hopefully between the two of us we can convince everyone that, while we're poor now, we need to have our priorities clear in case we actually do wind up raising some serious cash at some point.
But you know what? That's not enough for me either. I'm trying to think of ways that I can help improve the disaster that was described to me Monday night sooner than that. And I'll talk about it in my next blog post. It has to do with another group of people that I feel are too often exploited by this current non-profit arts system, and, as a pretty big clue, it also has to do with how completely pissed off I got when i read this article in the New York Times.

Sunday, April 11, 2010

On Adapting a Novel

A fan of The Last Unicorn who hadn't seen the Promethean production but is a huge fan of the novel wrote me recently- one thing they asked about is what my approach was in adapting it and if I had any advice or pointers for them. I just sent him a pretty lengthy response that I think others might find useful as well, so I'm sharing it here:

"Adapting a novel is a pretty complicated task. The most important first step is to make sure you have permission from the right person to do the adaptation. I know people who have had their productions shut down or even been threatened with legal action because they didn't get the appropriate permission in advance. I can offer additional suggestions on how to go about doing that in another email if you like, but I think the main thing you were asking is about the 'how' of doing the adaptation itself. At the risk of being obvious, here are some basic suggestions- first of all, it helps if you're really enthusiastic about the material- you're going to have to spend a lot of time thinking about and 'living with' this book, so don't choose works that don't really speak to you at all. Also, you should become extremely familiar with the novel. Even if you think you already know it, read it again. Then read it a second time, and take notes- even mark in the book, if you're okay with marking up the copy you have. Make notes of the sections you think are especially important- the scenes that you think are the best, or that are the most important as far as what the book it 'about' to you. While you're going through, some ideas might start popping in to your head- you might start being able to really clearly picture a scene as it would unfold on stage, or an idea as to a really cool way to stage or symbolize something you already know you won't be able to show literally on stage. Also, some sections might stand out to you as "oh, I definitely want to cut this part" for whatever reason. Don't commit yourself to cutting those parts, but definitely make note of it. Once you feel confident that you're very familiar with the novel and have a good idea of what parts work for you and are important to you, it's time to begin actually creating the first draft of the script.
There are two basic ways to create the first draft of the script- the first way is to script the scenes you like best and can see most clearly in your head, no matter where they fall in the play. Then once you have those scenes created, you slowly flesh it out, linking up the scenes until you have the full script. The other way is to just start at the beginning and work your way through the book page by page. I've found that a combination of the two works best- some days you'll be in the mood to plow through the pages in order, and some days you'll want to treat yourself to working on your favorite parts. The key is to be really disciplined- set aside a certain period of time each day (or each week, if you're really busy) to write. Even if you're not feeling really inspired that day, that's okay- there might be parts of the novel that you already know you want to keep verbatim, and days you're feeling less enthusiastic are good days to just type those verbatim scenes in to the script. Set a schedule for yourself and a deadline to finish your first draft- otherwise what you thought would only take a few months can stretch out into a years-long project.
Sometimes it can help to flesh out your adaptation if you write it with specific actors or a specific theatre company and space in mind- as long as you're at peace with the fact that those actors and that space may not be what you wind up getting, it can help fuel your creativity- if you're having to invent dialogue and/or scenes that get glossed over or omitted in the source material, being able to picture the actual actors that would deliver the lines can help fuel your creativity. Also, knowing in advance some of the logistical limitations you'll be facing gives you a structure that can stimulate your imagination. Some of the ideas for the adaptation of "The Last Unicorn" that I'm proudest of came from knowing we were only going to have a limited budget and only so many people that could fit into our venue's dressing room.
In general I'm a big fan of using what I call Performance Art touches in my pieces, as they were taught to me either in class with Paul Edwards, or by viewing pieces by the likes of Mary Zimmerman and Frank Galati. That includes not being shy about narration or direct address to the audience (while still being as economical about it as possible; it's easy to kill the audience's enthusiasm with too much narration), not being afraid to use dance and movement to forward the action of the story, and employing simple symbols for complex or impossible-to-literally-stage moments. For example, using the white rose to symbolize the unicorn's horn.
Once you have a first draft, go through it again before you show it to anyone. You'll be surprised how many typos and other things that don't entirely make sense make it into a first draft. Then, get together a bunch of your actor friends and do a private reading of it. Don't read any parts yourself- not even the stage directions! Instead, listen carefully and take lots of notes- hearing the lines spoken out loud will make it a lot clearer to you what's working and what isn't. Also get their feedback- you're not going to agree with all of it- and you should never feel compelled to follow anyone's advice on changes to your script- but the suggestions you get will reveal to you how others are reacting to the piece- what *they* think it's about, and what parts work for them best, or confuse them. Some of that feedback will make good sense to you, or at least enough sense that you'll want to try it out. Then do rewrites!
Sometimes it can help once you've done a rewrite to just set the script aside (say for a few weeks or even months) before returning to it. That can help freshen your perspective on it, and a few more ideas may occur to you, or you may catch some things you want to fix that you hadn't noticed before. Also, sometimes your friends can get tired of rereading the script too often if you don't space out the readings a bit.
In general, don't be afraid to take chances. It's a lot of work, but there are few things as satisfying as sitting in the audience and feeling the people around you responding to a script you adapted. I hope some of this helps you, and good luck!"