Midsummer Night’s Drunk

The best version of Midsummer Night’s Dream I’ve ever seen just closed, and if you didn’t see it, you missed something really special. So why am I writing about it now? Two reasons.

One, I want to make sure I remember to include it when I look back at what I saw this year. I don’t want the fact that I was too busy pulling together my taxes this week to keep me from getting it down on — hmm, I was gonna say “paper” but I guess it’s “screen.”

But more importantly: I was there on that night. The night the drunk woman got tossed out. The first drunk tossed out in 13 years. In fact, we were just a few seats down in the row right behind her.

All right, first of all, before the show started, we saw her drink a pint glass of wine. A PINT GLASS OF WINE! In case you don’t spend as much time in bars as I do, that’s like 4 glasses of wine. And that doesn’t count whatever she surely was drinking upstairs before she smuggled an entire bottle of wine into her purse and wobbled downstairs.

Once the show started, she started a running commentary to her friend that must have sounded like whispering in her alcohol-addled brain but was actually loud enough that people across the theater were looking over to see what was going on. It started with her turning to her friend and saying, at full volume, “I took a semester of Shakespeare in school.” Her friend looked super-psyched that she didn’t have to wait all the way to intermission to find out she was with a scholar.

After a few rounds of being shushed, she started to figure it out, so she turned to her friend and said, “I have a comment, but they’ll get mad at me.” When that led to more shushing, she screeched, “Everyone’s being mean to me.” The guy behind her said, “Because you’re being rude,” and she came up with a zinger: “YOU’RE being rude.”

My favorite was halfway through act one, when she inched toward self-awareness but then veered away at the last second: “I need to call a cab or something….This is bullshit!”

At one point, the stage manager figured out a way to insert an unplanned interval just long enough for Melissa to come over and tell her to shut the hell up. Mysteriously, she was able to face forward and remain completely silent until Melissa was gone, when she slurred to her friend: “For some reason, they’re singling me out.”

At intermission, they tossed her out, although her friend pointed out that she had quieted down for the last few minutes of the act. We helpfully pointed out it was because SHE HAD PASSED OUT.

The whole thing was hilarious, and the play was so brilliantly staged and acted that it all somehow blended together and worked. Plus, once the woman was gone, the audience was even more into the play. I guess all the repressed anger and emotions were released, the audience was focused and happy, and the second act was even more amazing than the first, with a fantastic ad-lib referencing Drunkie that brought down the house.

So take note: if you want to see some of the best Shakespeare ever done anywhere, always, always, always go to see Impact’s Shakespeare.

But please don’t bring your own flask.

San Francisco Theatres: No Back Numbers

I’ve been reading about old San Francisco theatres and came across this advertisement for the Bella Union Dance Hall (seen in this photo next to the Hippodrome):

AT THE BELLA UNION

you will find

PLAIN TALK AND BEAUTIFUL GIRLS!

REALLY GIRLIE GIRLS!

No back numbers, but as Sweet and Charming Creatures as

ever Escaped a Female Seminary.

Lovely Tresses!! Lovely Lips! Buxom Forms!

at the

BELLA UNION

I’m thinking maybe Impact Theatre could use that as their new slogan: “As Sweet and Charming Creatures as ever Escaped a Female Seminary.” Think about it, Cheshire and Melissa.

What I Want To See In March

While my January and February were mostly big plays in big theaters, it looks like March is going to be a month of cool little black box theater. I might actually be able to schedule all of these shows that I’m interested in:

• A Midsummer Night’s Dream at Impact Theatre (Feb 12 – Mar 21). Shakespeare goes New Wave in Impact’s 1980s production, selling out like crazy already.

• Skin by Steve Yockey at Climate Theater (Feb 26 – Mar 21). A take-no-prisoners, humorous and fantastical exploration of lust and fidelity. Directed by my friend Mark Routhier!

• The Window Age by Christopher Chen at Central Works (Feb 21 – Mar 22). A  play exploring the moment in time when modernism was reframing art, literature and the human mind. Written by my co-Magic Artist Labber Chris Chen!

• Pure Shock Value by Matt Pelfrey at Killing My Lobster (Feb 27 – Mar 22). They don’t produce full-on plays all that often, but when they do, they’re usually awesome.

• The Short and Happy Life by Ryan Michael Teller at Sleepwalkers Theatre (Mar 05 – Mar 28). After the incomprehensible death by combustion of his best friend, Manny tries to navigate the monsters looking to capitalize on his story. You know I love this company’s aesthetic.

• Thom Pain (based on nothing) by Will Eno at Cutting Ball (Mar 13 – Apr 05). Five out of four stars from The New York Times, who called Eno “a Samuel Beckett for the Jon Stewart generation.”

• Lydia by Octavio Solis at Marin Theatre (Mar 19 – Apr 12). A play that amazed audiences and had critics freaking out at its world premiere. Written by my friend Octavio Solis!

SF Weekly Cutting Down Theater Reviews

Chloe Veltman posts on how the recession is hurting SF Weekly, which will in turn hurt small theater companies.

SF Weekly’s Stage page generally has one big article by Chloe, followed by two “capsule reviews” by (usually) Molly Rhodes and Christopher Jensen. Those capsules are where smaller companies like Sleepwalkers Theatre and Boxcar Theatre and Impact Theatre get covered, with the larger column covering bigger companies like Magic Theatre and A.C.T. and SF Playhouse.

That’s going to shrink for the time being, as Chloe says:

Historically, January is a slow month for ad sales and the paper shrinks. The recession will likely magnify this seasonal trend. As a result, the powers that be have been forced to make some cuts to content, and, unsurprisingly, the Stage section is taking a big hit in the months ahead. The paper’s coverage of theatre will drop from three plays — my 1,000-word column plus two 200-word capsule reviews — to just my column. The publication will not be running capsules in January. The situation is likely to remain the same in February and March at least.

This is unhappy news for my great team of capsule reviewers at SF Weekly. I’m sad about it too, as making decisions about which shows to review among the hundreds to pick from each month has been hard enough in the past. Now the task is going to be even more difficult. Even more terrible though, is the impact of the falling coverage on the local theatre scene. Small companies in particular rely heavily on reviews not just for selling tickets but also for getting grants. In these tough economic times, the fall-off in media interest is particularly crippling.

The entire post is worth reading, especially since Chloe does her usual cool thing of tying a local event into a larger national/historical perspective.

What I Want To See In October/November

Because of our surprise New York trip, I only saw 3 out of 8 shows I flagged for September. I’m hoping that I can get to at least some of these early in the run so I can post my thoughts and hopefully hype some of these cool-sounding shows:

• Tore Ingersoll-Thorp’s March to November by Sleepwalkers Theatre (Oct 23 – Nov 8). Inspired by an article Chloe Veltman wrote asking for plays that do more than congratulate liberals for being liberal. Produced by one of my favorite small theatre groups, and starring Ian Riley, who directed my little play a couple months ago.

• Eugene Ionesco’s Victims of Duty by Cutting Ball (Oct 24 – Nov 23). “An unsuspecting couple answers a knock at their door and a detective enters.  What starts as a simple interrogation becomes an incredible journey through their past, present and future.”

• George Bernard Shaw’s The Devil’s Disciple at Aurora Theatre (Oct 31 – Dec 7). Shaw’s only play set in the U.S. “Set in a New England village during the Revolutionary War, a self-proclaimed devil’s disciple finds himself mistaken for the local reverend…and arrested by the British army as a rebel.”

• Carter W. Lewis’ Evie’s Waltz at Magic Theatre (Nov 8 – Dec 7). Directed by Loretta Greco, who directed all the best stuff at A.C.T. last season. “After their son is expelled for bringing a gun to school, an unexpected visit from their son’s girlfriend turns a couple’s backyard barbecue into a high-stakes game of cat and mouse.”

• Melanie Marnich’s Tallgrass Gothic by Impact Theatre (Nov 14 – Dec 20). Produced by one of my other favorite small theater groups. I read this and lobbied for it back when I was a lit manager in Austin. I lost. Marnich’s Bay Area professional debut.

• Melissa James Gibson’s Current Nobody by Just Theater (Nov 14 – Dec 13). Directed by Jonathan Spector, who is great at directing “fragmented language plays”  or whatever you would call those awesome things Anne Washburn, Sheila Callaghan, and Mac Wellman write. Note: I have no idea if this is actually a “fragmented language play,” but he can direct pretty much anything really, really well.

• The Great Puppet Bollywood Extravaganza by Un-Scripted Theater (Nov 28 – Dec 20). Like that show I was in last year, only this time an extra degree of difficulty because it’s improvised, a musical, with puppets — and in the style of a Bollywood musical. Give me a break! Note: I’m not in it. All the more reason to go. If you haven’t seen puppets improvise, you are in for a treat.

Ten Things Theaters Need To Do Right Now To Save Themselves

The Stranger has a provocative article about what theaters need to do to not suck. Less Shakespeare, more new plays, drop out of grad school, produce more fringe-style plays more frequently, and most important:

Build bars. Treat your plays like parties and your audience like guests. Encourage them to come early, drink lots, and stay late. Even the meanest fringe company can afford a tub full of ice and beer, and the state of regional-theater bars is deplorable: long lines, overpriced drinks, and a famine of comfortable chairs. Theaters try to “build community” with postplay talkbacks and lectures and other versions of you’ve spent two hours watching my play, now look at me some more! You want community? Give people a place to sit, something to talk about (the play they just saw), and a bottle.

Haven’t I always said the best theater happens in small theaters with cheap beer? (Un-Scripted, Impact, Sleepwalkers, Magic, Barrow Street.)

THE K OF D at Magic Theatre

Saturday night, we got to go to opening night of Laura Schellhardt‘s The K of D: An Urban Legend at Magic Theatre, and let me tell you, it’s a brilliant way for Loretta Greco to establish that there’s a new Artistic Director in town.

In a speech after the show, Loretta said that she was moved to produce the show (actually not a world premiere but a second production, and we can get into how important that is later) because the script was “muscular and fierce.” I totally agree; this is a killer script.

For me, the important thing is how theatrical the play is. This isn’t something that could be done as a TV show or a screenplay. It’s completely dependent on a theatre, an actor who can play many characters all at once, and an audience who’s leaning in and listening to the gorgeous language and compelling story.

Rebecca Novick directs Maya Lawson (who’s amazing at creating about 17 different, easily recognizable characters with nothing to distinguish them but her voice and body position) — and what I love love love about Rebecca’s direction and Laura’s script is that scenes flow one from another with NO scenery changes.

Look, you know I come from an improv theatre background, so my bias is for improv-style scene changes. I don’t like a play to grind to a halt as lights come down, some guy walks out and moves a couple of chairs and tables around, and lights finally come up to show we’ve moved from a house to a cafe. I like the way we do it in improv (and the way it was done in this show): the actor says, “Let’s go to a cafe,” takes a step forward, and now we’re in a cafe.

In fact, I think every play I’ve ever written has the line “The set should be simple representations with seamless transitions” on the first page. That, to me, is theatre; and the more my mind fills in, the better.

It’s a great night of theatre when you get an epic story and meet a whole bunch of characters — and all you really saw was one actor, one skateboard, one box, and a basically bare stage.

Man, first Ching Chong Chinaman, then this show…. Whatever I see next has a lot to live up to.

CHING CHONG CHINAMAN at Impact Theatre

Who knew last night was Unofficial Playwrights Night at Impact? Marisela, Prince, M and I met up for pizza at La Val’s, followed by Lauren Yee‘s Ching Chong Chinaman. Turns out Molly Rhodes, Sonia Fernandez and Eugenie Chan were all there, too. Making the show an impromptu Bay Area Playwrights Festival reunion.

Lauren Yee’s show is bananas, as one reviewer would put it. It’s really funny, hip, irreverent, theatrical, and definitely one of Impact’s biggest shows in years. Like, selling out every night big. Like, shows added and “can’t we extend?” big. Like, why didn’t you make reservations because now you might not get to see it big.

After the show, we went to the Unofficial Impact Bar for a post-show beer and/or virgin mary, along with most of the cast, some of the crew, and a few of the aforementioned playwrights. All in all, a great seven-hour night of theater-related fun.

Chili!

Last year, I was one of the cooks for the Playwrights Foundation‘s award-winning entry in Crowded Fire’s Chili Cookoff. This year, all I had to do was eat and drink.

You may remember that yesterday was a beautiful day — a perfect day to climb to the roof of the San Francisco LGBT center, listen to some bluegrass music, drink beer, and eat a lot of chili. Impact Theatre, Killing My Lobster, PlayGround and Crowded Fire all submitted entries in three categories. Impact had an amazing vegetarian chili, Crowded Fire had the winning traditional chili (Erin Gilley’s “Gilley Chili”) and then there was the best: “anything goes.”

Last year, Impact rocked it with an ostrich chili. This year, the winner was a Moroccan Lamb chili — but two of the more spectacular entries were Impact’s chili-infused Bloody Mary and PlayGround’s chili-spiced chocolate brownies.

How does a brownie made of chili taste, you might ask? Ever had Mitchell’s Mexican Chocolate ice cream? Kinda like that, only a brownie.

Besides eating, drinking and dancing, there was also plenty of talking and schmoozing. Aaron Loeb was there, with his gorgeous daughter stealing the show by breakdancing to the bluegrass. Plus Enrique, Melissa, Cheshire, Michele, Lawrence, Trevor, Kathy, Erin and just about anybody else you know in the SF Theater World.

Best fundraiser around. And it’s annual, so next year, who knows? Chili Cake? Chili Milk Shakes? Chicken Fried Chili?

OCTOPUS at Magic Theatre

Friday night I went to see one of the last nights of Steve Yockey‘s Octopus. (Please note that he’s “Steve” and not “Steven,” so he can join the “Tim” and “Sam” and “Joe” club.)

When the play started, I thought I was in for a night of realism, one of those “this could have been on TV” kinds of shows. Really well-acted, but not very theatrical. Little did I know. The show actually does a fantastic thing of slowly becoming more and more surreal and theatrical and amazing.

And it’s handled perfectly. There’s just a little moment of “Huh?” And then back to normal. And then a little weirder. And then a little weirder. And soon there’s a scene at the bottom of the ocean, and water filling someone’s house, and we’re into territory that I personally really dig: things that could only happen in theatre.

Brilliant direction by Kate Warner, awesome set by Eric Flatmo, and tight acting by the entire company, with a special call-out to Patrick Alparone who’s been all over Impact Theatre’s stage and does a predictably perfect job here.

After the show, M and I hung out with Enrique in the Magic’s lounge and had a few beers while we talked about grad school, corporate jobs and the similarities between travel writing and playwriting. (Waiting around for a long, long time after you’ve written something before you finally get to see it being the main thing.)

Enrique’s also in the Liz Duffy Adams class I’m taking, which has nothing to do with the point of this post and makes for an awkward ending, but allows me to add another link.