The 20s For The 21st Century

In April, Matthew Broderick and Kelli O'Hara were in a pretty lousy show called Nice Work If You Can Get It. Before it opened, with none of knowing that the show wouldn't be great, I interviewed the two of them. They were supremely delightful.

Last week, in a rehearsal studio a few blocks from the Flatiron Building, the ensemble hoofed through “Fascinating Rhythm,” and Ms. O’Hara and Mr. Broderick told The Observer, in an interview, that it was the era that drew them to the show.
“Most people who do musicals like old musicals, whether they admit it or not,” said Mr. Broderick. “I like the flasks, the shoes. My costumes are so beautiful in this. It’s when there were real tailors. My god, how old do I sound?”
Besides looking like the ’20s, the show will sound like it. “There’s no American Idol here,” said Ms. O’Hara. The songs, most of which are well-known standards, “are going to be familiar in the same way that history is.”
“With a new twist!” said Mr. Broderick.
“A new twist,” she allowed. “The ’20s for the 21st century!”

Bialystock Rises Again

New York Magazine's Scott Brown ​has the final word on the Rebecca blow-up. He phrases it much more elegantly than I did. It's almost like the guy's a professional writer or something. Brown is thrilled about the play's highly dramatic implosion—not because it means good professionals will be out of work, but because it's a signal that, "the stereotype of the sharp-lapeled Broadway bullshit artist endures." He goes on:

Rebecca may prove that maybe the Max Bialystocks haven’t been priced out by a post-Producers, post-Disney Broadway after all. The theater biz, decades since Times Square was sterilized and laminated, remains uncorporatizable, immune to ruthless Romneyesque efficiences, financialization, and scientific management.

This has nothing to do with Brown's point, which I've already echoed plenty, but god do I love The Producers. The original movie is a strange case. It peters out terribly in the last thirty or so minutes, but the first scene of that movie is the tidiest introduction of characters, conflict​ and planning that you'll ever see. Whenever I start a play, at some point I end up going back to that movie—everything up to when Gene Wilder runs around the fountain—and I try to rip off Brooks' structure. I usually can't make it. You know why?

Because writing is hard.​

And that sucks.​

Actors As Dickensian Urchins

​Actors!

Echoing yesterday's chatter about the unpaid American actor, The Stage's Mark Shenton—A British person!—complains that to not pay actors a living wage, even in Fringe productions, is terribly unfair. Setting aside the fact that there are many actors on this side of the Atlantic who would be happy to get any wage at all, no matter how deadly, there is something about his argument that seems too simple. Let's take a look, shall we?

But another actor friend has also suggested to me that, as long as there are theatres that don’t pay actors a living wage, she won’t be going to see shows at them. She’s going to withdraw her support as an audience member. And maybe that will force those theatres to examine their business models again.
They are sustained by actors who surrender their rights to be paid at the first audition, and audiences who subsidise the theatres by still buying tickets for them. It will only change if both the actors and the audiences behave differently.

Dust off your red flags! Stencil out a placard! Have your set designer draw up plans for a barricade! We're going on strike, dammit.​ Or, alternatively, we could gather up all of our magical American money, flit over to England, and take advantage of the British actor's apparent willingness to debase himself in exchange for a pat on the head and a bit of porridge. Want to cast Newsies or Oliver? Just hang out a sign advertising free red wine, and you'll have dozens of adorable little mongrel thespians at your door, dressed in super-classy English rags.

What Shenton doesn't point out is addressed beautifully in the comments, by a couple of fringe-level producers who chime in to remind him that, on productions where the actors are paid badly, the producer is usually paid worse.​ Says Free Will:

When you consider that the hire of a fringe theat can cost up to 500 a night (the unscrupulous venue I used actually charged us 400 just so we could get into the theatre to have a dress run 3 hours before we opened) the sad fact of the matter is that only a rare few shows that go onto the fringe will take enough money to cover production costs never mind raise enough to then pay everyone involved a good wage and leave the producers with enough to break even.

That's £500, or eleventy-million dollars. As much as I hate seeing actors let themselves be taken advantage of, I feel for the small producer. Everyone here is losing money and time—as long as they lose it in equal portions, it's hard to complain about unfairness. The real lesson here is that anyone who wants to make money off the stage should start by owning a theater. A more artistic ambition consigns one to life shoveling coal beneath the Barbican, or however it is British actors spend their time. (I could write a How-To Investment manual called Whatever You Do, Don't Be An Actor. It's going to be very short.) 

The last nifty bit comes from the second commentator. I didn't read any farther than that, because mine is a go-go lifestyle, and I have quite a bit of sitting about planned for the rest of the morning. "The alternative is the US model where Equity actors are forbidden from working in non-Equity shows on pain of expulsion from the union," says Robert Shaw. "The US Equity model is sterile and oppressive; to art, to innovation, to risk-taking and to its members. It's definitive proof that this is not the way to go.​"

English commentators are much more intelligent and articulate than the American variety. And, wait—Robert Shaw? That guy knows what's up.

Jaws Movie Clip - watch all clips http://j.mp/wtFgju click to subscribe http://j.mp/sNDUs5 Quint (Robert Shaw) reveals to Hooper (Richard Dreyfuss) and Brody (Roy Scheider) the chilling shark-infeseted nightmare of his past. TM & © Universal (2012) Cast: Richard Dreyfuss, Roy Scheider, Robert Shaw Director: Steven Spielberg MOVIECLIPS YouTube Channel: http://j.mp/vqieFG Join our Facebook page: http://j.mp/tb8OMH Follow us on Twitter: http://j.mp/rZzGsm Buy Movie: http://amzn.to/u49ADp Producer: Richard D.

Mmm. Acting.​

Life In The Dramatic Coalmine

John, from the wonderfully named blog Tales of a Squishy Morph, just posted a manifesto for non-equity actors, imploring them not to work for free. ​His point:

In addition to my full-time job, you're asking me to spend 4-6 weeks in rehearsal and 2-4 weeks in performance. When I'm working on a show, I leave the house at 8:30 am and roll in after 11pm. This is time away from my friends, family and partner. My laundry and dishes pile up. My milk goes bad. I miss other people's shows. I miss family gatherings. I miss concerts, movies, museum exhibits, TV shows, and other cultural events. I spend money on gas, tolls, parking, bus fare, cab fare and subway fare to get to rehearsal.

It breaks my heart to see actors, especially those who are more than a few minutes out of college, working for free. Of course, they shouldn't, because it's humiliating. But of course, they have to, because otherwise they can't work.

It's unsolvable problems like this that make me happy not to be an actor. Playwrights get paid less than actors do, but the work is more forgiving to our schedules, and we get our names in lights. Or, more typically, written on a cheap 3x5 postcard.

I'm glad to see someone like John taking a stand on this, and I hope more can follow his example. Unless it means my play doesn't get produced, in which case, get back to work you damned layabouts!​

What You Got, October?

The newspaper tells me it is October. Though naturally skeptical of print media, I think this may be correct. If so, that means four weeks of Mets-free baseball playoffs, a bit of my girlfriend yelling at me for watching baseball, and the beginning of what could be called the meat of the fall theater season. (Such meat, I should add, makes a dismal hoagie.)

There are a few bits of high drama storming Broadway this month—your Glengarries​ and assorted Woolfensteins—but I have trouble getting excited about watching big name actors tear their way through classic dramas, no matter how strong the pedigree. I'm a confessed dramaphobe, and I have particular trouble dropping several hundred dollars to watch Important Thespians in Important Plays. So, what's piqued my lowbrow curiosity this month?

The Heiress​, at Walter Kerr. I decided to inaugurate my spiffy new blog with a late-night screed against Rebecca, saying that a Broadway musical based on a seven decades-old movie and book was a lousy idea. Since I'm jerk enough to kick the play while it's down, I probably deserve to be made a fool of. The Heiress, which is based on Henry James' surprisingly-funny Washington Square, premiered in 1947, and inspired the 1949 Montgomery Clift/Olivia de Haviland picture. It's an odd choice for a revival, and if it's a hit I will look dumb, which only seems fair. Previews start October 4th.

Modern Terrorism, or They Want to Kill Us and How We Learn to Love Them​, at Second StageI'll admit it now—I'm a sucker for verbose titles, especially those with a bit of violent flair. The first decent play I ever wrote was about harebrained bookselling terrorists who attempt to blow up the Union Square Barnes & Noble, and this story—about some harebrained terrorist terrorists who want to do the same to the Empire State Building—brings me back, nostalgia-style. Aside from his various theatrical achievements, playwright Jon Kern is a Simpsons staff writer. Although I'm sure I'll spend the whole play grousing about how I covered the subject better, I think Modern Terrorism could be worthwhile. Opens October 15th. 

​Theater! Daniel Pettrow in The Wooster Group's Hamlet. © Paula Court.

​Theater! Daniel Pettrow in The Wooster Group's Hamlet. © Paula Court.

Hamlet, at The Performing GarageOoh. Ooh. Am I excited for this. I was in college when the Wooster Group premiered their wacky, high-minded Hamlet, and the thought of watching a bunch of actors screw around with the text alongside the film of Richard Burton doing the same in 1964—well, it appealed to the burgeoning deconstructionist in me. Since then, I have systematically choked the life out of my inner academic, but this play's conceit still appeals. This time they're filming the performance, adding another layer to an already overloaded concoction. Piling layer upon layer works for cake, and I have to think that anything that works for cake will work for Shakespeare too. Opens October 24th.

​Of course, I've missed all sorts of things. Let me know what they are.