David Wolber here.

So the other night (Wednesday, December 9) I was working in my office - cubicle, really - while we're getting ready for an evening performance. We don't usually have Wednesday performances - this is a special group that has bought all the seats in the house for their Holiday Party - a treat for their staff and clients. Its a packed house.

Charlyn Swarthout, our trusty Stage Manager for CHRISTMAS CAROL'D, pops in with a serious tone and informs me that BJ Love, one of our actors, has called to let her know he's stuck in a traffic standstill and hasn't moved for an hour. It is now about 7:15pm or so and the show is to start at 8pm.

I don't think too much about it, since BJ said he's on 94 near the Jackson Rd exit - only 10 minutes away, as soon as the traffic starts again.

Around 7:35, Char finds me again to let me know that he STILL hasn't moved. Sometime around now, I also hear that John and Terry's power went out before they left for the theatre, and I get a text from my partner, Wa, that our power is out as well, something to do with a transformer that exploded. hmmm.

I speak with the Manager of the group that has bought all the seats in the house, and explain that there may be a slight delay, as we're waiting on a performer stuck in traffic, etc. The group is lively and abuzz with holiday cheer and are enjoying hors d'oeuvres and wine, so they seem understanding and not bothered at all when he makes the announcement to let them all know why we're going to delay a few minutes. It's about 7:50pm.

Checking online, I see that there is a major shutdown of the power grid, and a possible power line down across I-94, and we hear from BJ at 8:05pm that hasn't moved an inch. 8:10pm.

The show should have started by now, and since we have no clue as to when the traffic will be clear, the cast and I are getting concerned. Char smiled and said quietly, "do you want me to get my script for you?" and the bottom of my stomach seemed to drop through the floor into the deep void that I hadn't noticed under my feet.

I know the show. I directed it. I know many of the lines, but I've certainly not been the understudy. I wonder if the costume will fit. I try on the shirt, then the pants. not quite my size, but the suspenders hide that. It'll do.

"Maybe a concert reading." suggests John Seibert, since the ensemble relies on each other to help with costume changes and there's no time to walk me through BJ's props. I kick into director mode for a second and say, "ok, we'll do the show - as a concert reading - I'll have a script on a music stand, and we'll stay in a semi-circle." the cast agrees, I think they're as freaked out as I am, maybe more. What about costumes, and props. Since I don't have time to figure out BJ's I say, we'll just keep it minimal - don't worry about them, I think if we try to do too much and it stops the flow, that's worse. The audience will go with us if we commit.

I go to tell the group's leader the plan. I'll fill in and we'll do a concert reading of the play. I'll explain it in the curtain speech. He gets a slight look of concern and tells me I'll have to explain it to the audience, since he's not quite sure how to. My Artistic Director side kicks in "Of course. It'll be fine. We'll do this. It'll be great." And then I go backstage to breathe.

John asks if he should move to the desk in the first scene. I hear myself say, "yes, I think we should move around for the scenes, but lets keep the narration still." Someone asks if I want help with the curtain speech. I laugh and say sure. The adrenaline has dried up my mouth and I'm pretty sure my ability to communicate effectively may have disappeared through the hole in my stomach from 10 minutes ago.

8:25. I walk out onstage. "Good evening. My plan tonight was to give a curtain speech and welcome you all and thank you for coming. However..." and I explain with helpful interjections from John that we'll be doing a concert reading, and I'll fill in for the delayed actor until he arrives.

The audience applauds with what feels like unsure, but sympathetic energy as I turn around to get the music stand and THAT'S when it hits me that I'll have to sing. In my time of considering whether I could step into the role, I was looking over the words. the lines. Not the songs.

Its not a solo. but it is harmony. I instantly commit and we're off. The first beat of the play is blocked to be the Carolers singing, then remaining in their caroling clump and introducing the story. When we get to, "Covetous" "Old" "Sinner," "Ebeneezer Scrooge" the action is for the carolers to turn and crouch as Scrooge enters. We all kind of hesitate, as the plan is to do a "concert reading" but we do turn, and the next thing I know, the concert reading idea flies out the window as the rest of the group moves about the stage as they normally do.

I pick up the music stand, and my body decides to follow. In my head, I've thought about the first scene. Cratchit and Scrooge. BJ is Cratchit. That's as much as I've given my conscious mind. But I find that I know all the actions. I've got the script in front of me, so I let most of that worry go, and just focus on listening and responding, with as much awareness I can muster about the characters I'm playing. Scrooge is asking me if I think him a fool. I'm stammering my explanations for the missing coal. After Fred arrives, then the two Gents, I realize that we're not doing a concert reading at all, but the full-fledged production, minus complete costume changes and light cues (since I have Char's script, and was concerned that I wouldn't be able to see the script if it was too dark).

Another song, this time no words, just "Lu Lu's" but there's only three of us and its definitely harmony now.

We're getting laughs (in a good way) and I'm flying high. Changing characters. I'm a spirit. I'm a part of Ghost of Christmas Past. Bits of narration. The pace and energy doesn't drop a bit, except one moment that I had no awareness that my caroler had a description. hmmm. Now I'm Scrooge's dad, and I call Young Scrooge to me and Terry Heck enters in full costume and I bark at her and the scene plays out - I feel connected - full of clear, in-the-moment energy and know that its working. We're not just "getting through it", we're really kicking.

I step off stage and Helena Byrne, our production assistant tells me BJ is here. My heart and stomach do another little flip, and I realize I don't want to stop. I want to do the whole show. I'm on a rush, feeling great and have seen the excited/relieved/charged looks on the cast, telling me that we're doing just fine. and it's actually fun, not terrifying, and the show is working. and how do I stop? I don't have time to give BJ his costume without stopping the show.

But my director side giggles and pulls me aside to say, "You've had your fun. Let's give the audience the show you promised them, not the one you're standing in for. However successful and fun it may be for you." and I'm still offstage and my mind races ahead, and I hear myself telling Helena to let Char know that I'm stopping the show after the Schoolmaster scene, just before Fezziwig's. My cue - i don't miss a beat and enter and finish the scene. Then I stop the show, announce to the audience that our actor has arrived and ask for a couple of minutes to give him the costume I'm wearing and ask them to remain seated.

As the cast is leaving the stage, the audience applauds. It feels good. BJ gets into costume. I tell the cast we're going back to the last exchange of the scene we just finished, and moving on. They go back out on stage and I sit in the far left seat in the front row. Char has her script again and the full show kicks in.

At intermission, I go backstage to thank everyone for a wonderful thrill, and for helping me get through it. John and Terry insist I go out for a curtain call after the show, and i cancel my plans to go home to check on the power outage situation.

After the show, I check in with the group leader, and every audience member I see tells me how much they loved the play, and as an afterthought - how impressed they were with me. (they tell me these as two different thoughts, almost as though they've forgotten that I was in the show, which comforts me.) They really have been back in the play, and my stepping in didn't diminish their experience. A few of them tell me how they felt it was an even more special performance that they saw. A treat.

I'm pretty sure adrenaline is contagious.

I know that Holiday Cheer is.

Pass it on.

See you at the theatre.

Rehearsals for Christmas Carol'd begin!

Hello all!

I'm Helena, one of the shiny new apprentices here at Performance Network. As I'm the production assistant for the Network's next creation 'Christmas Carol'd' I'll be keeping you all updated on the progress of rehearsals and design.

Our playwright, Joseph Zettelmaier has adapted this Dickens classic and given the story's dialogue a good ol' nudge straight into the 21st century, while still remaining true to the original story.

This production has a small cast of five, giving our actors great scope to illustrate their multifarious ranges. The cast consists of John Seibert as Scrooge alongside Chelsea Sadler, Terry Heck, BJ Love and Kevin Young who all play various roles throughout the play. At this time, the actors are working from the script, developing the many characters they are required to portray and also familiarising themselves with the set our designer Monika Essen has envisioned.

It has been decided that all sound effects throughout the show will be created organically rather than with recording. So we are currently searching for props and materials to make the sound effects we require. I think this will make the experience for the audience quite authentic.

Over the coming weeks Janine Woods, our technical director will begin making Monika's design a reality. I'm really excited to see this set come to life.

Helena

The BLONDE, BRUNETTE Experience

Due to rave critic and audience reviews that have resulted in sold out shows, we're extending our season opener, Robert Hewett's The Blonde, the Brunette and the Vengeful Redhead. You now have until October 25th to see Suzi Regan knock it out of the park with chameleon-like skills and ability to transform into quite the collection of characters.

I just wanted to take a moment to touch on the experience that a viewer has while watching this show. The structure of the play is great for "manipulating" the audience, for lack of a better word (well, "engaging" might actually BE that better word...). Because the story unfolds through a series of monologues, it starts to become a guessing game about who we'll see next and what the REAL story is. You see, as we hear each person's perspective, we are with them, in the moment, lapping up every morsel they have to tell us -- until the next person comes along and the previous character is suddenly old news.

The last time that I watched a performance, it was so interesting to hear pockets of conversation* all over the theatre, between scenes, with people hedging their bets on who the next shadowed character behind the screen will be, and what bomb they're going to drop.

If you've seen the show, leave a comment and share your experience. We'd love to hear from you.

*Performance Network does not encourage or condone conversation during a live show...but sometimes you just gotta do it.

I'm really more of a dishwater blonde...

"She was so blonde...
She told me to meet her at the corner of 'walk' and 'don't walk'. "

To steal a phrase from AnnArbor.com's Jenn McKee, Performance Network is going "Blonde" (and Brunette and Red) for the fall. And, if I do say so myself, it looks damn good.

As I write this entry, we are literally minutes away from the first performance of The Blonde, the Brunette and the Vengeful Redhead, which is opening our 10th season in our downtown Ann Arbor home. How cool is that? The feeling of excitement and anticipation is thick in the air -- Russ, the seasoned apprentice, is training Maria, the new apprentice on house management; volunteers are selling chocolate cigars at the concession stand (for the "birth" of our new season); we're completely sold out, wall to wall; and patrons are buzzing about checking out our newly unveiled lobby renovation (which, by the way, is all decked out in reds, golds and rich browns, even though we didn't intend to match the lobby to our current show). Heck, Artistic Director David Wolber even just received a personal email from Robert Hewett, the writer of The Blonde, the Brunette and the Vengeful Redhead, wishing everyone involved good luck (or, as we say in the biz, "break a leg").

So if YOU want to be part of the excitement, why not come check out the show? We're finally going to answer the age old question: Do blondes have more fun?

The Challenges of the Challenge are Challenging

In case you came here for information on the CFSEM challenge:

We're aware that donors attempting to use the CFSEM donation site have encountered errors trying to log in and donate. This is due to unexpectedly high traffic on their servers. However, these errors ought to subside before long, and you will be able to make your donation today.

Thanks for your persistence!

Challengers

So, this is exciting.

You may have already heard, judging from the number of the organizations involved, that the Community Foundation for Southeast Michigan (CFSEM) has a huge campaign on August 18th. They will match 50% of all donations made to eligible organizations through their website, until the initial stake of matching funds ($1 million) is used up. Here's the announcement from CFSEM:

"Beginning on August 18th at 10am, the Community Foundation for Southeast Michigan, through the Community Foundation Challenge - Arts & Culture, is providing up to $1 million to match general operating gifts made online at www.cfsem.org to support participating arts and cultural organizations. A match of $1 will be provided for every $2 contributed."

We're in on this, and we could use it. As matching funds are available up to $200,000 per organization, we stand to gain a maximum of $600,000 in operating funds. At the risk of sounding like NPR, let me outline what "operating funds" means to us.

It means paying me, for one thing, as well as the rest of our staff. It goes towards making sure our audiences don't freeze when they come to see our shows. It means that we can continue bringing in quality artists and technicians, the folks who make us the Network. And it means that YOU can continue to have a groovy professional theatre right here in your own backyard.

The only catch is this: you must donate on the Community Foundation's website - www.cfsem.org - on August 18th, and you must do it fast (log on at 10 am). 75 groups are vying for the money, and experts predict it will be gone within hours...so act quickly to help your favorite arts organizations get a piece of the pie.

Please keep PNT in mind when the Challenge begins. We're doing K2 next year, and that mountain won't build itself.

*********************************************************************
A few more details: Matching funds will be awarded on a "first gift, first match" basis. The matching program will end as soon as the $1 million of match funds are gone. Through the Community Foundation website, donors can choose one or more organizations to support using a simple menu to locate organizations participating in the challenge. Gifts must be made online by credit card or e-check and can range from $25 to $10,000 per contributor, per organization. Only completed gifts will be matched - no pledges.

Picasso Script, Round 2

Now that more of you have had a chance to see A Picasso, I feel better about exploring the script with more detail.

SPOILER ALERT - If you haven't seen the show yet, this may mess with your experience. If you'd like, you can also read the first, more general post about the script.

One point during the show that always amazes me (and mind you, I run sound, so I hear it every night) is when Picasso gets Miss Fischer to talk about her former lover. In a sequence that another playwright might parse out of existence, Miss Fischer lets her views on art, artists, and sex crash together in a few words. This would be just another clever double entendre, except that Hatcher uses it to prove a point Picasso makes throughout the show. It isn't shouted, but in the world that exists between these two characters, they've arrived at a strange mutual truth.

The exchange concerns the eventual fate of Miss Fischer's unnamed former lover, told in dialogue that, all at once, conflates his artwork with his bedroom performance. Now, bear with me here.

MISS FISCHER: I have had an artist. It wasn't satisfactory.
PICASSO: In Paris?
MISS FISCHER: Berlin.
PICASSO: Not the same thing.
MISS FISCHER: He was a painter.
PICASSO: Was he good?
MISS FISCHER: No. Very avant-garde. Nothing ever looked like anything.
PICASSO: Did you pose for him?
MISS FISCHER: No.
PICASSO: If you want to make love to a woman, paint her portrait. Gets her to reveal her breasts.
MISS FISCHER: He asked, but I said we should go straight to bed; more efficient. It did not last long. Every time I'd catch him in bed with another woman, he'd give a speech...

A few lines later, Miss Fischer reveals that he was killed for signing his name "in very big letters" to a manifesto issued by a political art group. Before we look at the significance of politics here, start with the questions and answers they've just given.

When Picasso asks if the dead artist was "good," Miss Fischer doesn't stop to ask if he means as an artist or as a lover. The same answer suffices for both: "No." The fact that she doesn't pause, doesn't flinch before answering--basically, lets his question retain both meanings--suggests the true bond between them, even though she hasn't given away much about herself at this point in the play. Perhaps she doesn't care which he meant. And perhaps she knows he sees them as one.
And then...she does it again. The audience is invited to laugh at "it did not last long" before she puts it into context as the term of their relationship. The first time, the dead artist's lack of prowess was conflated with his lack of painting skill; the second time, with his lack of character. (This can also be read as a subtle jab at Picasso. Just because she agrees doesn't mean he's not a rascal.)

Later in the script, Picasso staunchly insists that political art is, by nature, bad art ("The worst art in the world is political") even if good art can lead to political conclusions ("...and when they gaze on [Guernica] for its greatness, they will remember why it was painted.") Hatcher seems to be communicating a worldview, a blanket judgement. Miss Fischer challenges Picasso on many things, but here she seems to slyly cede him the point, even to bolster it. As such, the world of the play provides no counterexample to this train of logic: Correct intention = good thought = good art = good artist = good lover. Hatcher's themes certainly go beyond all this, but as the show's dynamics rely on the interplay of art, politics, and sex, this is a telling--and entertaining--part of the whole.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Okay, this is fun. I might try to get another script post in before we close the show...which will be, if you haven't heard yet, on the 19th. Yay extended run!

Mic Check

Hi! My name is Mike Cichon and I, too, am an apprentice here at Performance Network Theatre. I've been here almost a year now. It's been a very exciting, interesting, and stressful year, but what doesn't kill us makes us stronger, or so the saying goes. Though my friends and family may question why I'd take a job that would keep me from them for nearly a year, I will never regret nor lament my time at the Network. The most potent teacher is experience itself.

To the many actors, directors, designers, and (my beloved) stage managers who have helped keep me sane over the last year: you have my most humble thanks and gratitude.

Before my time is up at the theatre, I hope to post a few more blogs dedicated to future Apprenti -- what they should expect and how they should approach the program and life in general.

And if you haven't seen A Picasso yet, you really should. Time is running out! Runs till July 12th!

2009 Vote "4 The Best" Nomination

Seems we've been graced with a nod for "Best Theatre Group" in the Detroit area! You can vote for us at the WDIV Click On Detroit page.

Tell your friends, and get the word out...

Reviewed! Blogged About! -- UPDATED 6/25/09

Click each link for the full article.

-John Monaghan, Detroit Free Press: "Manages to look deep into the soul of the artist and be devilishly entertaining at the same time."
-Martin Kohn, Encore Michigan: "Sutton-Smith's Miss Fischer threatens quietly, she conceals, she reveals."
-Jenn McKee, The Ann Arbor News: "Manfredi...sinks his teeth into this larger-than-life character, and the effect is both dazzling and unforgettable."
-Daniel Skora, The New Monitor: " It ends with a closing scene sure to surprise and be remembered for a long time."

The following is taken in its entirety (with permission) from a savvy Network subscriber's blog:

"We saw the Performance Network's production of "A Picasso" last night. Both Lisa and I thought it the best play of the 2008-09 season, of which it is the concluding production. The play imagines an interrogation of sorts between Picasso and a female gestapo agent in Paris during the early phases of the war. The writing is excellent and John Manfredi as Picasso amazes with his intensity and complete immersion into the character. If the production has a weakness, it is that Manfredi at times overshadows Emily Sutton-Smith, though her performance grew over the course of the play.

Our medium size (and somewhat older) Saturday matinee audience did not give a standing ovation, but they should have. Highly recommended."

Do you blog about theatre? Let us know!

Picasso Script / Keith of the Apprenti

A Picasso: This Script Rocks (no spoilers)

Jeffrey Hatcher's script is a triumph of structure, which is the reason a play about so much (art vs. politics, inspiration, fame, love/hate relationships both emotional and intellectual...) holds together so well as a story. In lesser hands, this stuff would be all over the map, bloated and alienating. Fortunately, it's constructed as a taut, funny faceoff with enormous scope.

The audience gets brought into the period and the Paris art world through subtle reference and repetition (take note of the artists to whom they refer and in what order), trusting the audience enough to catch on without overdoing it. The play is structured cyclically, setting up and returning to examinations of three self-portraits. In effect, the analysis of Picasso's work becomes a dissection of Picasso's psyche, resulting in a battle of wills.

My favorite part of all this is that Picasso and Miss Fischer constantly force each other to reveal new sides of themselves, acing the trick of having a character evolve in front of an audience. The two actors, in a way, "sell" each other's development, and this, aside from the intellectual fireworks, is what makes the story pop: their relationship is continually shifting, all the way through the end of the show. On one hand, sometimes I feel like I could draw the script out in some kind of diagram (by the way, I count this as a good thing)...on the other, it's vibrant, engrossing, and, dare I say it, snappy.

I've done my best not to drop any spoilers in here. Perhaps once more people have seen the show, I'll feel better about discussing details. What do you think?

In Other News: One More Apprentice

As promised, we have a new apprentice. His name is Keith. Be kind to him, for soon we (myself and Mike) shall mold him in our own image. Muhuhahahahahaha.

(I mean, it's not that hard. He's already a skinny dude with glasses.)

The Last "Lazy" Saturday at PNT

Today is the last lazy Saturday for the Apprenti. Now, "lazy" has a different meaning to us than it has to, say, Calvin and Hobbes (The Lazy Sunday Book). Lazy, to Apprenti, doesn't mean that we don't have any work to do. It means that we don't have a children's show in the morning, cleaning after that show, a 3 pm professional show, a scramble to reset the theatre, and an 8 pm show. Lazy means that we have some office work and a show at 8.

The reason for this lazy Saturday is, of course, that it's the first preview weekend. Usually on these days, the only people at the theatre are Mike and myself, as everyone else finally has a day to catch their breath, secure in the knowledge that one show is closed and another is on track to open without any major disasters. Two preview audiences have weighed in on the new stuff, and three more will get that chance before Opening Night. Much, if not all, is right with the world. It's quiet, which is absurdly rare.

Makes a fellow reflective, as this is the last show we'll run as apprentices. Yes, over the summer, we'll be turning our jobs over to some other young folks. Doubtless they are embarrassingly overqualified and will make us look like the navel-gazing slothboxes we are, but for a fleeting moment, we will know more than they do about working at PNT specifically.

In a while, I'm going postering, because you, your family, your friends, your co-workers and acquaintances, your neighbors and landlords, and that cute girl or guy with whom you make eye contact for a little under two seconds across the counter at the coffee shop as you do your best to give nothing away even though you desperately want to make the moment last, all need to know about A Picasso, which is an excellent show. Heck, I'm even interrupting a blog post about my apprenticeship to advertise it, because that's what an apprentice does.

Lest this sound too much like a wistful, last-day-on-the-job, Ben-Folds-playing-in-the-background post, let me remind you that Mike and I are here for a while yet, and we have a ton to do before we're done with this place. (I'm writing this because it's the last lazy Saturday, remember?) And Ben Folds is most certainly not playing in the background. Note: If Ben Folds is playing on your iTunes or Pandora, you are required to turn it off now and re-read this post from the beginning. Working at the PNT means being part of something groovy, and I expect I'll be picking up tricks o' the trade and making wisecracks with the staff for the next two months non-stop.

Hope you're enjoying your lazy Saturday. I'm enjoying another weekend at the theatre.

Thanks for readin',

Russ

"A Picasso" by Jeffrey Hatcher runs through July 12th

There is an account from Pablo Picasso's time living in Paris, during WW2, of his being harrassed by an officer of the Gestapo. During the questioning, the officer pointed to a photograph of Picasso's painting "Guernica," the famous cubist depiction of the bombing of that Spanish city by the Germans and Italians, and asked "Did you do that?" to which Picasso curtly replied "No. You did." In "A Picasso" now playing at Performance Network, playwright Jeffrey Hatcher uses this exchange as the starting point for a taut thriller, pitting notorious lothario Picasso against Miss Fischer, a female agent of the Ministry of Culture. In the play Picasso is called in by the Nazis to authenticate three of his paintings, so they can be included in a public art burning of "degenerate art." What ensues is a cat and mouse battle of wills, as Picasso defends his art, his political views and his sexual predation of women. It's a mesmerizing exploration of the psyche of the artist, as well as an old fashioned battle of the sexes with Picasso using all of the weapons in his sexual arsenal. Set in the hornets' nest of Nazi-occupied Paris, the stakes are nothing short of life and death. Who wins, who loses? The answer may surprise you.

Setting Up!

Hey there. Russ here, lowly apprentice.

I mean, *clears throat* Hi, my name is Russ, and I'm proud to present Performance Network's blog. From here, we can continue to experiment with new ways to communicate with our followers and collaborators: we might make glib comments on world-changing events, we might share fascinating behind-the-scenes information, we might drop hints about exciting upcoming events, or we might just opine/argue/editorialize about arts n' culture.

(If you're not familiar with us, we're located on the corner of 4th and Huron in downtown Ann Arbor, right near Kerrytown, and hence dangerously close to all kinds of good restaurants. We run professional shows year-round, showing in our 140-seat Shure theater.)

We recently closed a long and successful run of August Wilson's classic Fences, and we're now building the set for the mind-bending A Picasso by Jeffrey Hatcher. Tickets are on sale now, and the show begins previews on Thursday, June 11.

Got any ideas for ways we can use this space? Let us know! Comment here or contact us at boxoffice@performancenetwork.org.

Thanks for readin',

Russ