In search of an evening of hilarity, I set out with my roommates to the State theatre in downtown Ann Arbor to see Carnage featuring Kate Winslet, Jodie Foster, John C. Reilly and Christoph Waltz. We figured we couldn’t go wrong with a cast like that. I also had a personal reason- Performance Network Theatre, where I am currently an apprentice, would soon be opening God of Carnage, the play in which the movie is based.
I had read the play already and knew what to expect so I was interested to see if the movie could still surprise me. Fortunately, it did! I was laughing harder than I expected and had an overwhelming sense of satisfaction as I left. In fact, even now, two weeks later, I still giggle about some of the great moments of the film.
Now I was presented with a new challenge: seeing the play. Would I find it equally satisfying? If not, how would I go about selling tickets and promoting the production? God of Carnage is a co-production with the Jewish Ensemble Theatre and Performance Network and the production team comprised of artists from both organizations had a very daunting task ahead of them—pleasing me-- post reading the play and seeing the film.
I entered the theatre on preview Thursday anxiously awaiting the (what I hoped would be magical) experience I was about to have. I had a good feeling because the cast is comprised of the very talented actors Suzi Regan, Phil Powers, Sarab Kamoo and Joey Albright. I also had my love for live theatre working in my favor, but I still wondered if I would be jolted and amused and brought to tears with laughter the same way I was with the movie.
The show began and I immediately found myself immersed in the characters. I already felt more connected to the lives onstage than I did in the movie or even when I was reading the play. So, as you can probably guess, as the story continued to unfold I was happily rewarded with a very intriguing, joyous, climactic theatre experience.
I think it says a lot about a theatrical production when it can really move somebody even after that somebody has read the story and seen the story unfold on the screen. I would have to say that the script works best on stage. I got more out of it. The arch of the story- the beginning, middle and end and all of the artistic choices were much clearer and better developed on the stage.
I would read the play again, I would watch the movie again (in fact I plan to purchase it) and I love that I am lucky enough to crack the door backstage every night and watch the performance at Performance Network unfold over and over again. It never gets old.
Logan
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
Dear Friend,
When I was a little girl, we used to sing: Make new friends, but keep the old. One is silver and the other gold. Now that I’m 42, and Performance Network is turning 30, that song has more meaning than ever, which is why I’m writing to you.
As a former member/contributor to Performance Network, you are a treasured part of the theatre family. Your support has helped us grow from a fledgling company in a warehouse to a regional artistic anchor, leading the state in awards and nominations.
But we still need you, old friend.
As we celebrate 30 years, the future is bright and our national reputation is growing, but precipitous declines in arts funding and an uncertain economy make it continuously harder to maintain excellence. To reach our full potential, we must call on ALL of our friends, old and new.
I’m writing to ask you to rejoin Performance Network’s membership this year, by renewing your past contribution of $65 or more.
For our 30th anniversary, we’ve revamped our membership program, adding benefits at many levels, and a new membership for families that includes access to our children’s matinee series. For full details, check out our website: http://performancenetwork.org/ We’ve also made it more affordable, with our Sustainer’s Club, where you can break your payment up into smaller monthly amounts.
Your support will help us continue to grow artistically and make the bold choices that keep your theatre experience exhilarating. It will enable us to hire top Equity actors, directors and designers, and provide them with excellent sets and costumes.
We use every dollar carefully, with 70% of our budget going into program related expenses, so you can be sure that your donation has a direct and significant impact. For example:
• $65 covers the electricity to run the theatre for one day
• $150 covers the fabric for one costume for “Ain’t Misbehavin’”
• $250 purchases wigs and makeup for “In the Next Room”
• $500 covers one Equity Actor’s salary and benefits for a week
Your tax-deductible gift will be gratefully acknowledged in numerous ways, including recognition in our playbill. What’s more, every former member who donates between now and December 20th will be invited to our holiday member open house, to celebrate with the staff, board and artists and enjoy complimentary wine and hors d'ouevres.
Thank you for your generous support. Your golden friendship gives deep meaning to our 30th anniversary – as we reach for the silver lining of a new, exciting future.
Sincerely,
Carla Milarch
Executive Director
When I was a little girl, we used to sing: Make new friends, but keep the old. One is silver and the other gold. Now that I’m 42, and Performance Network is turning 30, that song has more meaning than ever, which is why I’m writing to you.
As a former member/contributor to Performance Network, you are a treasured part of the theatre family. Your support has helped us grow from a fledgling company in a warehouse to a regional artistic anchor, leading the state in awards and nominations.
But we still need you, old friend.
As we celebrate 30 years, the future is bright and our national reputation is growing, but precipitous declines in arts funding and an uncertain economy make it continuously harder to maintain excellence. To reach our full potential, we must call on ALL of our friends, old and new.
I’m writing to ask you to rejoin Performance Network’s membership this year, by renewing your past contribution of $65 or more.
For our 30th anniversary, we’ve revamped our membership program, adding benefits at many levels, and a new membership for families that includes access to our children’s matinee series. For full details, check out our website: http://performancenetwork.org/ We’ve also made it more affordable, with our Sustainer’s Club, where you can break your payment up into smaller monthly amounts.
Your support will help us continue to grow artistically and make the bold choices that keep your theatre experience exhilarating. It will enable us to hire top Equity actors, directors and designers, and provide them with excellent sets and costumes.
We use every dollar carefully, with 70% of our budget going into program related expenses, so you can be sure that your donation has a direct and significant impact. For example:
• $65 covers the electricity to run the theatre for one day
• $150 covers the fabric for one costume for “Ain’t Misbehavin’”
• $250 purchases wigs and makeup for “In the Next Room”
• $500 covers one Equity Actor’s salary and benefits for a week
Your tax-deductible gift will be gratefully acknowledged in numerous ways, including recognition in our playbill. What’s more, every former member who donates between now and December 20th will be invited to our holiday member open house, to celebrate with the staff, board and artists and enjoy complimentary wine and hors d'ouevres.
Thank you for your generous support. Your golden friendship gives deep meaning to our 30th anniversary – as we reach for the silver lining of a new, exciting future.
Sincerely,
Carla Milarch
Executive Director
Friday, September 23, 2011
Thoughts on our 30th anniversary...
Last night, PNT launched its 30th anniversary season with a celebration like no other, which included songs, laughter, and personal stories from people through PNT's lifetime. The following is the speech that Executive Director Carla Milarch gave. Enjoy!
9/22/2011
The first show I ever did at Performance Network was in the spring of 1998. So that is 13 years ago now? I had landed in Ann Arbor in 1995, three years earlier, after bouncing around the country after college, living in numerous cities and finally New York City, where I worked in the publicity department of the then indie-film giant, MiraMax films. It was my first professional show in Ann Arbor and it was the Network’s very first professional season as an Actor’s Equity House.
The other important first in this story is that it was the first show I ever did with a director named Jim Posante. Casting for the role of “Lucy” the spunky receptionist in the World Premiere of Larry Dean Harris’ play “Inverted Pyramid” had come down to myself and another, more well-known actress, who had done shows at Performance Network in the past. But Jim took a risk on me. He later told me that the first time he heard my voice, he knew he had to cast me. Sometimes I think Jim and I were meant to work together, and we did so on many fruitful artistic partnerships over the years, until his untimely death three and a half years ago.
Together, we had a blast bringing my character to life in the funny and heartwarming play. Inverted Pyramid was the story of a Jewish Female Ad Executive, played by Maggie Wysocki and a Gentile Gay Man who is her first in command, played by Ray Schultz. On the day he is hired, they realize that, not only do they have very little in common, but that they push each others buttons pretty relentlessly. Over the course of the play they learn about each others’ differences, but they also learn about the scars in each of their collective histories. She takes him to the holocaust museum, he takes her a production of Angels in America. Over the course of the play they come to truly understand and love one another. With the help of their spunky receptionist, of course.
It was ultimately a story about tolerance and healing, and this world premiere was an important show for the theatre. As always at the Nework, cash flow was very tight, this was an unknown show by virtue of it being a world premiere, it took an outspoken stance on many LGBT issues, and the Network had taken a big risk in producing it. In short, it had to do well at the box office.
Now keep in mind, this was at the old Network. The crumbling technology center housed 118 seats, a small black and white tiled lobby and of course, a pole in the center of the stage. Rehearsals were held at Peter Sparling’s dance gallery studio and the dressing room was off a hallway that led to the patron bathrooms in the back. Patrons had to actually walk across the stage through the darkened backstage area to get to the hallway and during intermission the actors had to “hide” in the dressing rooms so as not to be seen. It was not unheard of to run into a patron in the shared bathroom at intermission if you really had to go. It was also not unheard of to do a show for 10 patrons if a show wasn’t doing well.
Miraculously, preview week was very well-attended. Audiences were laughing in all of the funny parts, and all of the production elements had come together nicely. The set consisted of two, giant, double sided units, one on either side of the stage, that were each mounted on rotating turntables, and each one weighed about 400 pounds. They spun around to change locations back and forth throughout the play, and were manually turned each night by two very sweaty stagehands. They only got stuck about once a show, which for the number of times they turned around, which was about 15, that was a pretty good ratio. Everyone was mostly remembering their lines, things were going well.
Except for one thing. In our audience talkback sessions every night, people kept commenting on how they just couldn’t relate to one of Ray’s character’s key relationships. His main love interest, played by the then 19 year old Danny Kahn, whom he meets toward the end of the first act just seemed incidental to people. They didn’t really care about that relationship and consequently they didn’t care very much about a pivotal decision at the climax of the play. The funny parts were hitting home and audiences were laughing a lot, but the real heart of the story was falling flat.
Sunday night, after the matinee’s talkback, Jim and I headed to the Aut Bar, as we often did, to unwind and discuss the week’s developments. It was a bit of a depressing state we were in, as the feedback that people just didn’t care was hard to hear after we had put so much of ourselves into the show. We went upstairs, parked ourselves at the end of the bar, ordered up two Labatt blue lights and proceeded to drown our sorrows.
Now, if you know many theatre people, you know that one of our great pastimes combines two of our very favorite things: drinking; and talking about the show we’re currently involved in. Jim and I did a lot of both that night. I can still remember sitting at the upstairs bar at the Aut, watching the sunbeams pour through the west windows at ever lowering angles, with the balls from the pool table clicking and clacking in the background, while we smoked, and drank and talked about the play. How could we fix it? We knew that this play had the potential to rip people’s hearts out, in addition to being hilarious. Was there something we could do do make the audience care more? It was Sunday night, and the show opened in four days. What could be done in that short a time that would fix the problem – short of rewriting the play?
As is often the case, the more we drank the clearer things got, and the more willing we were to entertain an “its so crazy it just might work” scenario, because what we ultimately concluded, was that rewriting the play was exactly what needed to happen. Because, the problem came down to basic script structure. The love interest character was just being introduced too late in the play, and he seemed like an afterthought. It undermined the relationship throughout the rest of the script, and it weakened the play. There was a possible solution, but it basically involved rearranging all of the scenes in the first act, and then tweaking the script so that the follow up references all made sense.
Sounds simple right? Well, remember those turntables I was telling you about? Each one of those elaborate scene changes had been choreographed and rehearsed down to the split second, and rearranging the scenes would mean that the entire schematic would have to be re-conceptualized, re-rehearsed and re-perfected. All of the costume changes in the first act would have to be redone, and not least of all – new lines would have to be written and learned, and rehearsed. This of course being if the either the playwright or the Artistic Director’s head didn’t pop off when we brought up our idea.
I will make my story shorter than it could be by telling you that rewriting the play is exactly what we did. The playwright somewhat astonishingly liked the idea, the script was revised, extra rehearsals were called, the new scenes and lines were written and memorized and rehearsed, the tech was reworked, and reworked and reworked, the stage hands were promised large quantities of alcohol – all in four days. And what ended up on that stage was kind of a miracle. Not only did the show open to rave reviews, and play to sold out houses, but it won numerous awards that year, including one for Best New Play.
I chose this story to share tonight because for me it exemplifies so many of the things that make Performance Network special, and so many of the values that are our touchstones to this day. That story could have played out in so many different ways. Many directors wouldn’t have even bothered to listen to what a brand new actor had to say about a script, and would have blown off the feedback or told me that it wasn’t my place. But Jim was open, he listened, he made a place for my new voice, my new perspective.
Many artistic directors wouldn’t have been willing to commit the extra resources, the extra time and energy and dollars and headaches to getting the script just right, and would have settled for just a very funny comedy, which wouldn’t have been a terrible outcome – but Dan Walker was relentless in his pursuit of excellence, and he worked around the clock on this and numerous occasions to ensure that what went on the Network stage was the best it could be. Many brand new actors would never have felt safe enough to chime in about how to rewrite a play their first time out. But the environment at the Network was so welcoming, so egalitarian, and I knew almost instantly that every member of that company, every actor, every designer, every turntable operator was listened to, and valued, and recognized as an irreplaceable part of the whole.
I’m older now. I don’t smoke or drink Labatt Blue anymore, and I’m sure that if I actually remembered how many I drank that night 13 years ago, I’d probably be a little queasy. My dear Jimmy is gone too soon, and these days I direct more plays than I act in, and I don’t have to listen to the actors if I don’t want to. But I hope that I always do, even the brand new ones. And I hope that I always remember to commit nothing less than 100% when the choice to bring something truly wonderful to life presents itself. I hope that I’m never too safe, or too timid, or too tired, or too secure to take a leap of faith when it’s needed. Because that’s what I learned from the people who came before me, and that’s what I hope to pass along to the people who come after.
After all, we’re producing important, engaging, inspiring, socially relevant, non-profit theatre. It’s so crazy, it just might work.
9/22/2011
The first show I ever did at Performance Network was in the spring of 1998. So that is 13 years ago now? I had landed in Ann Arbor in 1995, three years earlier, after bouncing around the country after college, living in numerous cities and finally New York City, where I worked in the publicity department of the then indie-film giant, MiraMax films. It was my first professional show in Ann Arbor and it was the Network’s very first professional season as an Actor’s Equity House.
The other important first in this story is that it was the first show I ever did with a director named Jim Posante. Casting for the role of “Lucy” the spunky receptionist in the World Premiere of Larry Dean Harris’ play “Inverted Pyramid” had come down to myself and another, more well-known actress, who had done shows at Performance Network in the past. But Jim took a risk on me. He later told me that the first time he heard my voice, he knew he had to cast me. Sometimes I think Jim and I were meant to work together, and we did so on many fruitful artistic partnerships over the years, until his untimely death three and a half years ago.
Together, we had a blast bringing my character to life in the funny and heartwarming play. Inverted Pyramid was the story of a Jewish Female Ad Executive, played by Maggie Wysocki and a Gentile Gay Man who is her first in command, played by Ray Schultz. On the day he is hired, they realize that, not only do they have very little in common, but that they push each others buttons pretty relentlessly. Over the course of the play they learn about each others’ differences, but they also learn about the scars in each of their collective histories. She takes him to the holocaust museum, he takes her a production of Angels in America. Over the course of the play they come to truly understand and love one another. With the help of their spunky receptionist, of course.
It was ultimately a story about tolerance and healing, and this world premiere was an important show for the theatre. As always at the Nework, cash flow was very tight, this was an unknown show by virtue of it being a world premiere, it took an outspoken stance on many LGBT issues, and the Network had taken a big risk in producing it. In short, it had to do well at the box office.
Now keep in mind, this was at the old Network. The crumbling technology center housed 118 seats, a small black and white tiled lobby and of course, a pole in the center of the stage. Rehearsals were held at Peter Sparling’s dance gallery studio and the dressing room was off a hallway that led to the patron bathrooms in the back. Patrons had to actually walk across the stage through the darkened backstage area to get to the hallway and during intermission the actors had to “hide” in the dressing rooms so as not to be seen. It was not unheard of to run into a patron in the shared bathroom at intermission if you really had to go. It was also not unheard of to do a show for 10 patrons if a show wasn’t doing well.
Miraculously, preview week was very well-attended. Audiences were laughing in all of the funny parts, and all of the production elements had come together nicely. The set consisted of two, giant, double sided units, one on either side of the stage, that were each mounted on rotating turntables, and each one weighed about 400 pounds. They spun around to change locations back and forth throughout the play, and were manually turned each night by two very sweaty stagehands. They only got stuck about once a show, which for the number of times they turned around, which was about 15, that was a pretty good ratio. Everyone was mostly remembering their lines, things were going well.
Except for one thing. In our audience talkback sessions every night, people kept commenting on how they just couldn’t relate to one of Ray’s character’s key relationships. His main love interest, played by the then 19 year old Danny Kahn, whom he meets toward the end of the first act just seemed incidental to people. They didn’t really care about that relationship and consequently they didn’t care very much about a pivotal decision at the climax of the play. The funny parts were hitting home and audiences were laughing a lot, but the real heart of the story was falling flat.
Sunday night, after the matinee’s talkback, Jim and I headed to the Aut Bar, as we often did, to unwind and discuss the week’s developments. It was a bit of a depressing state we were in, as the feedback that people just didn’t care was hard to hear after we had put so much of ourselves into the show. We went upstairs, parked ourselves at the end of the bar, ordered up two Labatt blue lights and proceeded to drown our sorrows.
Now, if you know many theatre people, you know that one of our great pastimes combines two of our very favorite things: drinking; and talking about the show we’re currently involved in. Jim and I did a lot of both that night. I can still remember sitting at the upstairs bar at the Aut, watching the sunbeams pour through the west windows at ever lowering angles, with the balls from the pool table clicking and clacking in the background, while we smoked, and drank and talked about the play. How could we fix it? We knew that this play had the potential to rip people’s hearts out, in addition to being hilarious. Was there something we could do do make the audience care more? It was Sunday night, and the show opened in four days. What could be done in that short a time that would fix the problem – short of rewriting the play?
As is often the case, the more we drank the clearer things got, and the more willing we were to entertain an “its so crazy it just might work” scenario, because what we ultimately concluded, was that rewriting the play was exactly what needed to happen. Because, the problem came down to basic script structure. The love interest character was just being introduced too late in the play, and he seemed like an afterthought. It undermined the relationship throughout the rest of the script, and it weakened the play. There was a possible solution, but it basically involved rearranging all of the scenes in the first act, and then tweaking the script so that the follow up references all made sense.
Sounds simple right? Well, remember those turntables I was telling you about? Each one of those elaborate scene changes had been choreographed and rehearsed down to the split second, and rearranging the scenes would mean that the entire schematic would have to be re-conceptualized, re-rehearsed and re-perfected. All of the costume changes in the first act would have to be redone, and not least of all – new lines would have to be written and learned, and rehearsed. This of course being if the either the playwright or the Artistic Director’s head didn’t pop off when we brought up our idea.
I will make my story shorter than it could be by telling you that rewriting the play is exactly what we did. The playwright somewhat astonishingly liked the idea, the script was revised, extra rehearsals were called, the new scenes and lines were written and memorized and rehearsed, the tech was reworked, and reworked and reworked, the stage hands were promised large quantities of alcohol – all in four days. And what ended up on that stage was kind of a miracle. Not only did the show open to rave reviews, and play to sold out houses, but it won numerous awards that year, including one for Best New Play.
I chose this story to share tonight because for me it exemplifies so many of the things that make Performance Network special, and so many of the values that are our touchstones to this day. That story could have played out in so many different ways. Many directors wouldn’t have even bothered to listen to what a brand new actor had to say about a script, and would have blown off the feedback or told me that it wasn’t my place. But Jim was open, he listened, he made a place for my new voice, my new perspective.
Many artistic directors wouldn’t have been willing to commit the extra resources, the extra time and energy and dollars and headaches to getting the script just right, and would have settled for just a very funny comedy, which wouldn’t have been a terrible outcome – but Dan Walker was relentless in his pursuit of excellence, and he worked around the clock on this and numerous occasions to ensure that what went on the Network stage was the best it could be. Many brand new actors would never have felt safe enough to chime in about how to rewrite a play their first time out. But the environment at the Network was so welcoming, so egalitarian, and I knew almost instantly that every member of that company, every actor, every designer, every turntable operator was listened to, and valued, and recognized as an irreplaceable part of the whole.
I’m older now. I don’t smoke or drink Labatt Blue anymore, and I’m sure that if I actually remembered how many I drank that night 13 years ago, I’d probably be a little queasy. My dear Jimmy is gone too soon, and these days I direct more plays than I act in, and I don’t have to listen to the actors if I don’t want to. But I hope that I always do, even the brand new ones. And I hope that I always remember to commit nothing less than 100% when the choice to bring something truly wonderful to life presents itself. I hope that I’m never too safe, or too timid, or too tired, or too secure to take a leap of faith when it’s needed. Because that’s what I learned from the people who came before me, and that’s what I hope to pass along to the people who come after.
After all, we’re producing important, engaging, inspiring, socially relevant, non-profit theatre. It’s so crazy, it just might work.
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
Thursday, May 26, 2011
Teletubbies and Tape: Technical Rehearsals as an Assistant Director
After three weeks of rehearsing our upcoming production Next Fall in our rehearsal space at PNT, affectionately called the Mosh Pit, yesterday we moved into onto our set-in-progress in the theatre.
A move into the actual theatre is always an exciting one for cast and crew—the large space in which to play, the danger of acting in what amounts to a construction zone (the actors wear shoes at all times to guard against a stray nail or two!), and of course the anxiety of the oncoming previews which start in one week. One of the funny and unique things about the transition from rehearsal space to playing space here at PNT is the fact that the actors have to face a different direction when they perform. In the Mosh Pit, actors face West, and in the theatre, they face East. This causes some disorientation for the actors who suddenly find that they cannot trust their internal compasses. Though we have rehearsed the exits and entrances and transitions for weeks, occasionally the actors find they have no idea which direction they are meant to go. Stage left or stage right? East or West?
The transition is also a matter of acclimating to the set. In the Mosh Pit, we have the floor taped out to represent where walls and doors would be on the real set, but it pales in comparison to using actual working doors and taking entrances and exits in between walls and set pieces. At first, everything takes a little longer than usual, but it is remarkable to see the actors taking the space into their bodies—the real actions of entering a room, the real adjustments to props. Whatever disorientation the actors might feel upon entering the new space is moderated by the comfort of the ever-more-finished world in which they'll be playing (though they might say "living" as characters).
During one scene in the play, the character Adam is moving into his new apartment and has to enter the scene carrying a large box. When we ran that scene last night we quickly realized that the box was just about the same size as the space allotted for his entrance (the "gap" as we call it) so he could barely fit. After several desperate—and comical—attempts to enter, our director Ray solved the problem by changing the location of the entrance to the upstage gap. It worked just as well.
At another point in the play, the character Butch asks his son Luke where the bathroom is and Luke replies, “In there.” Last night, however, there was some confusion. Luke pointed to the kitchen. There is not, let me say, a toilet in the kitchen. In that same scene, Luke is moving items from his bedroom and stuffing them into the closet in an effort to “de-gay the apartment” before his father arrives. Of the victims of the de-gaying, one is a Truman Capote book from the bookshelf and another is a Tinky Winky doll (the allegedly gay Teletubbie from children's television). Last night, when we rehearsed with the actual prop, our Tinky Winky decided to speak. He exclaimed, "Uh-oh" and "Hugs!" and proceeded to giggle. None of us knew it was a talking doll, least of all Luke, who proceeded to talk back to Tinky Winky in an equally cartoonish voice.
Of course, at another point in rehearsal, one of our actors accidentally exited into the closet, which of course prompted a flurry of jokes about his character Brandon “coming out of the closet.”
Tonight is our second rehearsal in the theatre. After seven more hours of construction work done in the space, the set will surely present a new set of challenges. A freshly painted floor. A new (and smaller) couch than we are accustomed to using. A heavy bed that our hardworking Assistant Stage Manager has to figure out how to push out on stage by herself. Such is the joy of technical rehearsals. A new adventure awaits us every day.
Saturday, January 22, 2011
Performance Network's 'The War Since Eve' is a tempting new comedy - AnnArbor.com
Performance Network's 'The War Since Eve' is a tempting new comedy - AnnArbor.com
One truly wonderful thing about the world premiere production of Kim Carney’s “The War Since Eve,” now being staged at Performance Network, is that it gives lie to the tired old stereotype of the “humorless feminist.”
For the feminist at the center of the play, Roxie Firestone (Henrietta Hermelin), is quite often hilarious, as is “Eve” more generally.
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
Sunday, September 26, 2010
Friday, August 20, 2010
Open House and Block Party!!!
Performance Network is announcing its first ever "Open House Party," a pay-what-you-can FUNdraiser benefiting Michigan's Premier Professional Theatre.
PNT will open its doors to the community for back-stage tours of the theater as well as meet & greet opportunities with PNT staff and artists. Bring the whole family for a free 5:00 p.m. storytelling program appropriate for all ages presented by the acclaimed LaRon Williams.
The afternoon festivities will also be taken outside with a Block party, held in the PNC Bank parking lot, directly adjacent to the theater. The party will feature live music and include street vendors selling alcoholic and non-alcoholic beverages as well as foods perfect for summer time.
Held right here! At Performance Network: 120 E Huron, Ann Arbor, MI, across from the Washtenaw County courthouse and between 4th and Main. Events will kick-off at 2 and the day will wind up at 7, just in time for our evening performance of Woman Before a Glass. In fact, why not buy tickets and make a day of it?
PNT will open its doors to the community for back-stage tours of the theater as well as meet & greet opportunities with PNT staff and artists. Bring the whole family for a free 5:00 p.m. storytelling program appropriate for all ages presented by the acclaimed LaRon Williams.
The afternoon festivities will also be taken outside with a Block party, held in the PNC Bank parking lot, directly adjacent to the theater. The party will feature live music and include street vendors selling alcoholic and non-alcoholic beverages as well as foods perfect for summer time.
Held right here! At Performance Network: 120 E Huron, Ann Arbor, MI, across from the Washtenaw County courthouse and between 4th and Main. Events will kick-off at 2 and the day will wind up at 7, just in time for our evening performance of Woman Before a Glass. In fact, why not buy tickets and make a day of it?
Monday, July 5, 2010
Seymour and Sharky: Modern-Day Fausts in Little Shop and The Seafarer
If you saw Performance Network’s Little Shop of Horrors and have seen or are planning to see The Seafarer, you may be curious what the two shows could possibly have in common. After all, one is a black comedy about a down-on-his luck Irish man playing the poker game of his life on Christmas Eve, and the other is a musical about a man-eating plant. At face value, they would appear to have nothing to do with one another. Would it surprise you then to learn that both derive from the same origin story?
That’s right, the Faust story, or “Selling my soul to the Devil” is one of the oldest themes in English literature. The first occurrence of such a story appears in the late 16th-century. Its origins are distinctly German, and probably come from an alchemist in that country of the same name who, legend has it, sold his soul in order to discover a way to turn stones into gold.
The tale hit its peak in popularity during the English Renaissance. At that time, it was published in a booklet in Germany (1589) and soon after hit British stages with a play that immortalize the story, Christopher Marlowe’s The Tragical History of Doctor Faustus (1604). Here, Doctor Faustus has become a highly renowned scholar, possibly the most brilliant man in the world—yet he is not satisfied. He craves more knowledge, and so, makes a deal with Mephistopheles in order to gain wisdom superior to his colleagues.
The story continues to pop up through out the ages until 1806, when Goethe returns the story to its homeland. Scholars consider this to be the most important Faust work, and it is widely believed to be the best work of German literature to date. It is also notable for making the Devil out of a poodle. Here, Mephistopheles actually bets God that he can cause God’s favorite human, Faust, to stray from a righteous path (reminiscent of the trials of Job in the Bible). Mephistopheles then accepts Faust’s soul in exchange for the love and lust of Gretchen, a beautiful country girl. The second half of the play draws heavily on classical literary allusion to make its point.
Since then, Faust has been turned into everything from operas (most notably The Rake’s Progress by Stravinsky), to country songs (if you’ve never heard “The Devil Went Down to Georgia” by The Charlie Daniels band, I highly recommend it). And that brings us back to PNT’s current season.
In Little Shop of Horrors, the hopeful yet somewhat hapless Seymour dreams of a life with Audrey, the object of his affection. Whilst voicing this wish, he pricks his finger on a thorn and poof! The Mephistophelian caricature of Audrey II, a “new breed” of fly-trap plant, stirs to life. The circumstances of The Seafarer, meanwhile, couldn’t be more different. With the gritty back-drop of a slum in Baldoyle, Ireland, Sharky, we’re told, can barely recall the card game he played 25 years earlier that cost him his soul. The plot synopses have little room for over-lap; however, if we dig a little deeper, we can find a rich literary history that bind Seymour and Sharky together in a pact of fate.
So if you enjoyed Little Shop’s quirky take on soul-selling, come and see The Seafarer for a comparison of another modern day Faust. The show runs through July 18th, with 8:00 PM performances Thursday through Saturday, 2:00 PM matinees on Sundays, and a 3:00 PM matinee on Saturday, July 10th.
Essay by Talia Ricci, Performance Network Apprentice
Friday, July 2, 2010
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
Little Shop of Horrors EXTENDED through May 30!
Due to great word-of-mouth and outstanding acclaim, Performance Network Theatre’s
smash hit Little Shop of Horrors is being extended for an additional two weeks. The musical comedy will now run through Sunday, May 30th, at which time the show must close in order to make room for the upcoming Drama, The Seafarer.
When prodded for comment, Artistic Director David Wolber said "We're thrilled that audiences have enjoyed our version of Little Shop. It's always rewarding to have a bold concept like the one that Carla Milarch, Monika Essen and Naz Edwards created for Audrey II (The Plant) met with the joy and encouragement our audiences have shown. It's great that we'll be able to share this new envisioning of the play with audiences for a few more weeks."
Don't miss the show that the Detroit News is calling "a scramble of nutty fun," while Encore Michigan's Don Calamia heralds it as an "all-time favorite!" (Yep, he really said that).
If you're interested in a little preview of the show, watch the video.
smash hit Little Shop of Horrors is being extended for an additional two weeks. The musical comedy will now run through Sunday, May 30th, at which time the show must close in order to make room for the upcoming Drama, The Seafarer.
When prodded for comment, Artistic Director David Wolber said "We're thrilled that audiences have enjoyed our version of Little Shop. It's always rewarding to have a bold concept like the one that Carla Milarch, Monika Essen and Naz Edwards created for Audrey II (The Plant) met with the joy and encouragement our audiences have shown. It's great that we'll be able to share this new envisioning of the play with audiences for a few more weeks."
Don't miss the show that the Detroit News is calling "a scramble of nutty fun," while Encore Michigan's Don Calamia heralds it as an "all-time favorite!" (Yep, he really said that).
If you're interested in a little preview of the show, watch the video.
Friday, March 12, 2010
The Voice Behind the Radio
Just who is Quentin Farlowe?
Wayne David Parker, or "Daba," as he is known to his friends, didn't begin acting until his senior year of high school, after his dreams of being a basketball player were shattered (standing at 5'4", this isn't terribly surprising).
Following one of the first ever high-school productions of Godspell and two years in a rock band, Parker has since gone on to grace the stages of Michigan's professional theatres including Williamston, Meadow Brook and the Purple Rose. (While doing an 18-month run of Escanaba in da Moonlight, Parker received three requests for an autograph during a Red Wings game, while his seat partner, Jeff Daniels, was not recognized).
With his gift for character voices, Parker's agent encouraged him to try his hand at radio and television, both of which he has found much success in. You may recognize him as the voice of Ford, Volkswagen, Goodyear, or On-Star. With this much experience, it seems fitting that Mars director Tony Caselli would cast him to play a 1930s radio actor.
Along with many Michigan artists, Parker has reaped the benefits of the state's recent film incentive. Street Boss and Stone, in which he shares the screen with Robert De Niro, are both due out this year.
After a 25 year absence from our stage, we're thrilled to have Daba back at the Network, where he's been reunited with some of his long-time friends Sandra Birch, Joseph Albright, Joe Zettelmaier and Tony Caselli.
To see the whole team in action, don't miss It Came From Mars!
Wayne David Parker, or "Daba," as he is known to his friends, didn't begin acting until his senior year of high school, after his dreams of being a basketball player were shattered (standing at 5'4", this isn't terribly surprising).
Following one of the first ever high-school productions of Godspell and two years in a rock band, Parker has since gone on to grace the stages of Michigan's professional theatres including Williamston, Meadow Brook and the Purple Rose. (While doing an 18-month run of Escanaba in da Moonlight, Parker received three requests for an autograph during a Red Wings game, while his seat partner, Jeff Daniels, was not recognized).
With his gift for character voices, Parker's agent encouraged him to try his hand at radio and television, both of which he has found much success in. You may recognize him as the voice of Ford, Volkswagen, Goodyear, or On-Star. With this much experience, it seems fitting that Mars director Tony Caselli would cast him to play a 1930s radio actor.
Along with many Michigan artists, Parker has reaped the benefits of the state's recent film incentive. Street Boss and Stone, in which he shares the screen with Robert De Niro, are both due out this year.
After a 25 year absence from our stage, we're thrilled to have Daba back at the Network, where he's been reunited with some of his long-time friends Sandra Birch, Joseph Albright, Joe Zettelmaier and Tony Caselli.
To see the whole team in action, don't miss It Came From Mars!
Thursday, January 21, 2010
"On belay?"
Hey everyone! It's Maria, one of the apprentices here and the production assistant of K2. I just thought that I'd share a little bit of what things are like at "27,000 ft" here at PNT. This show has been a really great experience for me, from our first day of rehearsal at Planet Rock learning about the proper way to belay someone, up to the first show where we got some great feedback from our audience!
Let me start off by saying that John Manfredi and James Bowen are really great. Not only is it demanding to convey the effects of being 27,000 ft up in the air (with oxygen deprivation, exhaustion, and cold) but they have to do it while actually climbing and belaying up our ice wall. And I'll let you in on a little secret, it's no easy climb to do, although John does a fantastic job of making it seem like it's something he's been doing all his life.
We all owe Chris Lemons (our rock climbing consultant from Planet Rock) our lives since he's helped us figure out how to do climbs and falls both safely and accurately from the first day on stage. I was a little frightened knowing that I was going to be belaying the guys at the top of the show when I couldn't even see them, but Chris and lots of rehearsal helped set my mind at ease. One of the greatest compliments I've heard is from actual mountain climbers saying how realistic John's portrayal is.
Building the set has also been a journey. Technical Director, Janine Woods broke her leg (sledding, not mountain climbing) but still managed with her small army of volunteers to construct the second largest mountain in the world. I sometimes wish the audience got a chance to walk backstage and see all the bracing holding the climbing wall up and the giant staircase leading to the top platform where the guys fall from at the top of the show, it really is quite a sight.
I really couldn't say enough wonderful things about everyone that's worked together to make this show possible but I don't want to get too long-winded gushing about the cast and crew. I just want to encourage everyone to see this fantastic show about friendship and the crazy dreams that we all aspire to accomplish in our lives.
"Belay on!"
Let me start off by saying that John Manfredi and James Bowen are really great. Not only is it demanding to convey the effects of being 27,000 ft up in the air (with oxygen deprivation, exhaustion, and cold) but they have to do it while actually climbing and belaying up our ice wall. And I'll let you in on a little secret, it's no easy climb to do, although John does a fantastic job of making it seem like it's something he's been doing all his life.
We all owe Chris Lemons (our rock climbing consultant from Planet Rock) our lives since he's helped us figure out how to do climbs and falls both safely and accurately from the first day on stage. I was a little frightened knowing that I was going to be belaying the guys at the top of the show when I couldn't even see them, but Chris and lots of rehearsal helped set my mind at ease. One of the greatest compliments I've heard is from actual mountain climbers saying how realistic John's portrayal is.
Building the set has also been a journey. Technical Director, Janine Woods broke her leg (sledding, not mountain climbing) but still managed with her small army of volunteers to construct the second largest mountain in the world. I sometimes wish the audience got a chance to walk backstage and see all the bracing holding the climbing wall up and the giant staircase leading to the top platform where the guys fall from at the top of the show, it really is quite a sight.
I really couldn't say enough wonderful things about everyone that's worked together to make this show possible but I don't want to get too long-winded gushing about the cast and crew. I just want to encourage everyone to see this fantastic show about friendship and the crazy dreams that we all aspire to accomplish in our lives.
"Belay on!"
Saturday, December 12, 2009
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.
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.
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
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
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
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
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 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.
Friday, September 11, 2009
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?
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?
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