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It is truly incredible what fight choreographers do. They know the ins and outs of pistol whips, gunshots the head, blood bursts, and other horrifyingly real things. We’re so so so lucky that the FC here for THe Last Goodbye donated a bit of time to help us stage the murder / suicide. It was an absolutely brutal event that we’re trying to infuse with some peace and beauty. WHAT? I just don’t want to go there, in terms of how awful it REALLY must have been, to be in that house. But so, we are choregraphing it as best we can. And it’s completely surreal: a bunch of people sitting a big theater, walking through the steps of each family member getting killed, with a man instructing: alright Dad, after you kill Mom, go to Son – Son, fight your Dad, Dad, push him off of you, shoot him in the head. It’s chilling. It’s terrible. Because, these kids didn’t get the chance to choreograph, go back, or fight. (Hopefully I’m in some way giving them this.)

Our Town is an incredible play written some 70 years ago by Thorton Wilder – detailing the seemingly ordinary lives and ordinary moments in the lives of a fictional small town in Massachusetts. It is totally perfect that it’s currently being produced at Williamstown: A – because Wilder himself played the stage manager Here in a production in 1959:

And B, because, well, it’s creepily, embarrassingly just like House of Home, in so many ways (the play I am currently crafting here.) OR RATHER: house of home is just like IT. I saw Our Town my freshman year of college at Playmaker’s, and hadn’t read or seen it since. I could barely remember it honestly, except for loving it, and being deeply moved by the ghosts in the graveyard. Also remember a small pretty Asian girl on a ladder. Who’s with me, fellow UNC CDA hobbits?? Anyone??

I think I must have deposited this play, structurally and viscerally, into my subconscious.  I think I will choose to be encouraged by the similiarties between the two plays. NOT THAT I COULD EVER WRITE OUR TOWN, it’s so flawless, BUT – maybe I am writing, MY Our Town? Our town, but with Baptist Hymns, casserole parades, murder and Meth? Also, not that I’ll be inserting a narrator character, rattling of lattitude and longitude, and giving myself the role. But. Just really, really happy that the play exists, and that I got to see it.

Also, my favorite line: ‘People are meant to go through life two by two. ‘Tain’t natural to be lonesome.’

In which I write outside theater for children, and Isaac Byrne directs.

BAD Theater nerd! BAD! I somehow made it through high school, college and grad school without ever reading or seeing this incredible play by John Guare. But thankfully! It’s running at Williamstown right now, Dad! Staring  Tim Daly from wings!

And I had the pleasure of seeing it last night. I was actually really grateful to just be able to watch it, having no pre-conceived notions of the show. I thought it was truly amazing. Penned in the early 90s, in a slightly different commercial theater climate, this play has SEVENTEEN CHARACTERS. I love it. And the most beautiful, profound monologues come from the characters we only know for 5 minutes – they are crucial. It’s about – as the title suggests – how we are all connected – rich, poor – also about upper class guilt, and a million other things I can’t really articulate, because I am not John Guare, but things I truly felt. SO. Three cheers for theater, for people putting on funny costumes, memorizing lines, and then saying them in the dark.

I just heart it really hard, especially in the beginnings, when it is play.

I confess that ever since I was a wee theater student, I’ve always been a bit ‘meh’ to farces, to plays not of my century (save Chekov,) to stuffy Britsh plays, etc. BUT: I now think, or rather know, that I was completely wrong. I think it’s just that I never really SAW them, was only forced to read them. I saw London Assurance at the National yesterday, with the Incredible Simon Russell Beale prancing about in plum colored waist coats, doing this hillarious ballet- leg pointing thing, rouged and lipsticked. It was hillarious. Hillarious. But beyond that, it was seriously beautiful. For the first time ever, I heard / saw this perfectly time comedy balanced with these really beautiful words, this emotional weight. I felt so wrong, in the best way possible. Oh, England, even though you call shrimp prawns, which makes them sound like weird bugs that grow beneath boats: there is much to learn from you.

One of the 8 zillion reasons that I love Ars Nova, sides their generosity / support, is their sweet sweet penthouse. I’m workshopping Be a Good Little Widow this week and get to sit here and write and pretend like I live in Midtown and have a few small dogs and order in Indian and have pigtails and write plays with legitimate, not skimmed over or forced, emotional depth (TRYING.) Please stay tuned for Widow, a funeral, coming soon!

I honestly never knew much about this genius man until last night when I patroned the opening night of Sondheim on Sondheim – part musical review, party documentary, of this guy’s work over the last 50 years. Basically he’s written so many musicals (and so many numbers that didn’t actually end up in the show, that can constitute a whole evening.) It was fascinating to hear about his process, and his life.

MORE IMPORTANTLY the after party was at Planet Holywood? and feature garlicky shrimp pasta, and so I ate a lifetime’s worth.

Now if you excuse me, I must go prepare for Brunstetter on Brunstetter (a ten minute play, with songs.)

I finally got to see this play yesterday. My friend Bobby is in it and has been urging me to check it out for a while. The script is pulled from interviews with Marines that have just returned from tours. It was compiled by 2 actresses who both have brothers in the service…the play was born of their need to better understand their brothers. Sound familiar? It was totally weird to hear and see my thoughts coming out of the mouths of characters….I felt trite, I felt important, I felt smart, I felt dumb. As for the play itself: YES. It was such an honest exploration of what it is to serve, why people serve, the sticky situations it puts you in – emotionally, physically, and how complicated coming home is.

I could go on and on and on and on, but instead I will end with this, the end of the play, that made me cry, and plays never make me cry: the character of the sister, who’s been trying to understand her brothers, tells us about how she told one of them how she and some friends  were discussing what they’d do if there was another terrorist attack on the city.

And the brother says to her, something along the lines of: you go to your apartment .You lock all of the doors. And you wait for me. And I will move hell to get to you, and I will evac you out of there.

I think I have yet to be bloggy of the Women’s Project, and so here I go! They are a great Off-Broadway theater here who does plays by, well, Women. Sometimes they let some dudes hang out with them too. I’ve been a part of their writer’s lab for a little over a year and I can’t believe my time with them is almost over, and I’m already helping them read applications for the next group!

Honestly, when I went to the first meeting, it was daunting. I think it was a little daunting for everyone. It was like 40 ladies in a room (writers, directors, producers.) I hadn’t been with so many ladies at once since 7th grade cheerleading (in which we nearly beat the cougars with the routine that Julien and I choreographed / and I didn’t drop her ONCE/ Falcons, IGNITE). I’m also not one to have like a large, mass-organized ‘ladies night.’ In fact, I think I should do that more. I’m going to get together 12 girls. And we’re going to put on heels and go to Applebee’s.

Anyways, The Women’s Project! The absolute best thing about being in the Lab, aside from its amazing members and all the things everyone is doing, is the panelists they’ve brought in to talk to and with us. From agents to pitch-coaches to financial advisors, they really have this keen awareness of what we already know, and what we’re kind of in the dark about it, and bring it guests accordingly. It’s always extremely informative. Like last night, they brought in some set, sound, costume and lighting designers to talk about their Process, and experiences in collaboration. It was very enlightening. Heyo! It really was. I especially loved hearing them talk about their design as storytelling – I definitely have a new-found perspective on what exactly it is that a designer does. I also learned a new word, ‘designerturg,’ which someone should seriously slap on a Tshirt, and how.