American Conservatory Theater Blog

Listening to History

info@act-sf.org (American Conservatory Theater) — Mon, 28 Jun 2010 21:59:00 +0000

posted by Elizabeth Brodersen, A.C.T. Publications Editor and a research dramaturg on The Tosca Project

Listen to an excerpt from Carey Perloff and Elizabeth Brodersen’s interview with Tosca Cafe owner Jeannette Etheredge, who describes her decision to buy the bar and honor its rich historical legacy. (5.6 mb)

Listen to an excerpt from Valerie Hart’s interview with Vesuvio Cafe co-owner Janet Clyde, who describes her early memories of Tosca Cafe. (2.2 mb)

On any theatrical production, it is typically the dramaturg’s job to collect research that will help the playwright, director, and performers create, shape, and authentically realize the story that will unfold onstage. Developed organically in a series of improvisatory workshops, based on real people in a real place over a 90-year period, and conceived without a conventional script, The Tosca Project presented a particularly complex challenge. What kind of information would be most helpful to the process? Where could we find it? How could we make it accessible to the cast and creators?

In addition to collecting documentary and visual research into the cultural and social history of 20th-century San Francisco—most of which ended up push-pinned to the rehearsal room walls to help keep the performers immersed in the world of the piece—we decided to go straight to the source. A team of interviewers—including dramaturgy intern Valerie Hart, dramaturg and A.C.T. Artistic Program Consultant Beatrice Basso, cocreator A.C.T. Artistic Director Carey Perloff, and myself—sallied forth into North Beach to interview an eclectic cast of local characters to give us firsthand testimony about the bar, the neighborhood, and their extravagant past. Bar owners, tenders, and regulars—from the octogenarian daughters of one of Tosca Cafe’s original founders to “Specs,” feisty owner of 12 Adler Museum Café—shared with us their memories of North Beach, in general, and Tosca, in particular. Meanwhile, Jeannette Etheredge, the current owner of Tosca Cafe and keeper of its legacy, told us profoundly moving stories about her mother, Armenian refugee Armen Baliantz, their mutual love of ballet and ballet dancers, and her experiences in and around the bar.

The audio recordings of these (hours and hours of) oral history then became part of the development process, as the creators and performers listened to them again and again, working out the nuances of movement and character, step by step, story by story. At one point, the audio even became part of the performance piece, played as voiceovers during a workshop presentation in 2007. As the storytelling evolved from the literally personal to the archetypally universal, however, the recordings fell away, but the essence of the stories and the rhythms of the storytellers’ voices remained in the performers’ psyches and bodies. What you now see onstage is the embodiment of almost a century of San Francisco history, caught on tape and released from the memory of the people who lived it.

Graduating to The Tosca Project

info@act-sf.org (American Conservatory Theater) — Wed, 09 Jun 2010 17:52:00 +0000

posted by Kyle Schaefer, cast member of The Tosca Project

Kyle Schaefer, who graduated from the A.C.T. Master of Fine Arts Program in May, writes about his experience performing on the A.C.T. mainstage and the joy of working with the artists of varied backgrounds who make up the ensemble of The Tosca Project.

The Tosca Project is my first job as a professional actor out of school. It feels oddly like home, however, and I think I’ve been realizing how prepared I am for the nuts and bolts of this profession. In many ways it has felt like any other production I’ve been involved with: get together in the room, rehearse, take breaks, rehearse again, argue a point, take direction, joke around, work hard, get frustrated, have fun. I’m certainly familiar with life at 30 Grant and the American Conservatory Theater.

However, there are also many firsts for me in this new world of postgraduation life. I don’t take it lightly that I am employed directly out of school on a world premiere at A.C.T. with seasoned actors, dancers, clowns, directors, and designers from all around the world. This has been a once-in-a-lifetime experience. And I fit right in.

I don’t feel like an actor, or a dancer, or a clown. I feel like a collaborator. As a jack-of-all-trades-master-of-none, I have had to dig down into every corner of my artistic toolbox to help tell a story being discovered in the room. We are constantly reminded that the piece is bigger than the sum of its parts; and there are many parts! But with such a talented and diverse group of people, it is easy to trust the ebb and flow of the process. This trust and ease has been the surprising factor for me. I knew that I graduated as a skilled actor, but was unsure whether my experience would add up to being more than just a “green” actor with a lot to learn.

Of course I still have a lot to learn, but I will be able to hold my own through the early stage of building my career. So, this is why I have been training at a conservatory affiliated with a professional company! Instead of graduating as a cookie-cutter actor doing “everything I’m supposed to,” I have been allowed by my A.C.T. training to grow into an all-around artist. I am acting and dancing with some new faces, but also with people who have been my classmates, teachers, and directors and actors in projects I’ve directed. In short, this company is a community of artistic peers and creators breathing life into our love letter to San Francisco.

I’ve been somewhat self-involved and thoughtful about my personal life recently: What happens when I move? Will I get an agent? Where will I live? How am I going to make ends meet? Will I be artistically fulfilled? How awesome will it be to have a social life? How will I be able to sustain it?

But with Tosca, I just show up and get to work with an amazing group of people on a project with a lot of question marks. My training, my own life filled with question marks, and this eclectic group of bright and passionate individuals form the ideal environment in which to jump into the unknown. Much like my character at the top of the piece, I am myself embarking on a whole new life filled with surprises. The main difference is: I don’t have a mustache.

Kyle Schaefer in The Tosca Project (l to r): as the young Italian Bartender who founds Tosca Cafe in 1919 upon his arrival in San Francisco; as a sailor returning from World War II in the 1940s, with Sara Hogrefe; as a disco-dancing boy in the 1970s, with Pascal Molat. Photos by Kevin Berne.

Home Away From Home

info@act-sf.org (American Conservatory Theater) — Mon, 07 Jun 2010 23:13:00 +0000

posted by Brian Jansen, A.C.T. Master of Fine Arts Program class of 2011

I found this picture and wanted to share it with the A.C.T. community. It is trustee Dianne Hoge and her husband Ron with three Master of Fine Arts Program students—myself (on the right), Sara Hogrefe ’10, and Matt Bradley ’12. Clearly, we are having a ball.

Diane is one of the members of the Board of Trustees who act as a “Trustee Host” for M.F.A. Program students. What does this mean? Well, every student-trustee host relationship is different, but the general idea is that board members take a particular student or group of students under their wing. They are a familiar face at opening nights and the annual gala events; they attend our shows, cheer on our progress, and help with networking and general support during our three years here.

Dianne and Ron are incredibly gracious hosts. We get invited over to their house a few times a semester for drinks and dinner. Often they invite other artists or young people for networking, and the Hoges’ place can be something of an artist’s “salon.” We have passionate discussions about theater, A.C.T., what’s on the mainstage, and student productions. We trade ideas and stories and perspectives—and leave feeling recharged.

The Hoges have been hosting students five years in a row, so now I’m part of something of a “Trustee Host family” with Sara, Matt, and graduates James Bigelow ’09 and Jeff Irwin ’08.

The Trustee Host Program brings together two sides of the A.C.T. community that wouldn’t normally interact—the generous benefactors, who make much of the work we do possible, and us students in the trenches of training. For M.F.A. students, it’s an exhilarating addition to the experience at A.C.T., and provides something of a “home away from home.”

In the Know

info@act-sf.org (American Conservatory Theater) — Wed, 05 May 2010 22:42:00 +0000

posted by Katie May, A.C.T. Publications & Literary Intern

Katie writes about her experience doing dramaturgical research for the Round and Round the Garden edition of A.C.T.’s performance guide series, Words on Plays. And her correspondence with Simon Murgatroyd, personal archivist to playwright Alan Ayckbourn, which grew out of that research.

Dramaturgical work on a play is an interesting process. It begins (of course) with reading the play, but it’s a different kind of reading from reading for pleasure or critical evaluation, a deeper reading informed by the question: What information would deepen the audience’s experience of this playwright’s work? After the reading comes the research. Which begins, like most research nowadays, with a Google search and quick trip to Wikipedia, but quickly extends to trips to the library and explorations of the archives of obscure literary journals in a quest to bring our audience precisely what can’t be found with a Google search and a quick trip to Wikipedia. It was in the initial stage of research into Round and Round the Garden that I discovered the official Alan Ayckbourn website: www.alanayckbourn.net.

Now it’s not unusual for a playwright to have a website, but this is a treasure trove—an overwhelming wealth of information so specific that the researcher in me got a little a teary-eyed and I was forced to take a few breaths to regain my composure. Not only does the Ayckbourn website contain the usual short biography, playwright’s résumé, and list of produced work, but it also offers an in-depth history of the writing of the plays, histories of their development and production, frequently asked questions about the playwright and his work, and (be still my heart) a list of interviews conducted by Ayckbourn, indexed by publication year and by the subject of the interview—as well as many more resources and links far too numerous to be listed here.

The discovery of a website (even a well-researched and thorough one) does not mean my job is done, however—far from it. The discovery of this website was like finding a cross between a road atlas and detailed treasure map, complete with multiple Xs to mark the spots, as well as highways, signposts, and points of interest along the way. Using this website as a jumping-off point, I was set to map out my journey, from the location of newspaper articles published back in the late 1960s to the titles of the books that needed to be at the top of my library reading list.

However, good research is also conducted with a degree of skepticism. Any article or essay is only as strong as the accuracy of its source material, which is an issue that begged the question: Is this website hosted by an Alan Ayckbourn superfan spending long hours in his basement lair, or a respected authority with a researcher’s ability to collect facts while retaining a degree of objectivity? My answer came in the form of Simon Murgatroyd, Ayckbourn’s personal archivist and website administrator (a full-time paid position), who is, in fact, a little bit of both—two parts completely qualified researcher and recognized Ayckbourn expert, and one part dedicated superfan. How do I know this? I e-mailed him. A lot.

Murgatroyd’s fascination with Ayckbourn began in 1995 when he was hired as a journalist for the Evening News in Scarborough. He became the lead theater critic at the paper and began reviewing the premieres of Ayckbourn’s plays at Scarborough’s Stephen Joseph Theatre, Ayckbourn’s artistic home for more than 30 years. In 1999, Murgatroyd left the paper to study for an M.A. in theater and contemporary practice, specializing in the fantasy influences in Ayckbourn’s plays, and created the website as direct response to his experiences studying for his M.A. “I quickly realized the subject of my dissertation was ill served by books, academic material and resources,” writes Murgatroyod, “I began creating the website as it became obvious a single resource—accurate and well researched—on Alan and his plays would be of benefit to other students and researchers.”

In 2004, Murgatroyd took over the position of archvivist for the Stephen Joseph Theatre, and when Ayckbourn stepped down from his post as artistic director in 2009, Murgatroyd’s position was altered to that of Ayckbourn’s personal archivist and website administrator. He lectures on the playwright’s work, continues to write and publish articles, and has published a book, Sight Unseen, which explores Ayckbourn’s unpublished and undeveloped works.

All of this information (available on the website) firmly established Murgatroyd as much more than a mere basement-dwelling superfan. This alone would have been cause for much rejoicing on my part, except that Murgatroyd’s email address is also available on the website, along with an invitation to contact him with any Ayckbourn-related questions. For the second time in one day I was forced to take a few deep breaths and calm my trembling fingers, already itching to attack my keyboard in a frenzy of Round and Round the Garden–related questions. But I didn’t want to embarrass myself or annoy Mr. Murgatroyd with questions the answers of which could be easily found in other sources, so I began my research and started small with a nice introductory email inquiring about the reprint rights to some of his materials and a quick question about the pronunciation of Ayckbourn’s name. Is it “ack-born” (“ack” rhymes with “pack”) or “ache-born” (as in “headache”)? I received an answer to both of my queries in exactly four and one half minutes: Yes, we could reprint the requested materials, and it’s “ache-born.” (rhymes with headache). Thus began my correspondence with one of the many unsung behind-the-scenes heroes of the artistic world.

True to the prompt enthusiasm of his first response, Murgatroyd proved himself an eager, accurate, and indispensable guide. Possessor of a wealth of quirky Ayckbourn-related facts, he often included extra bits of interesting information and photos that made both the researcher and the theater geek in me glow with that rare, warm satisfaction of being in the know. For example, Norman, the main character in the trilogy The Norman Conquests (of which Round and Round the Garden is the third and most structurally complete part), does not appear until 45 minutes into the first play, Table Manners because Christopher Godwin, the actor whom Ayckbourn had cast in the role, was unavailable for the first two weeks of rehearsal, and the script was altered to accommodate his schedule.

Another fascinating fact came with a photo I requested from Murgatroyd to illustrate the concept of theater-in-the-round. The Stephen Joseph Theatre began as the Library Theatre in Scarborough, a tiny room on the first floor of the town library with a playing space that measured a mere 14 by 18 feet. Murgatroyd points out: “You can see the two doors which were the only entrances to the Library’s Concert Room; this is why every Alan Ayckbourn play until 1976 only has two stage entrances. After 1976, they have at least three, when the company moved to a new venue.”

It’s bits of information like this that often remind me why I came to love theater in the first place. They illustrate how the art of theater, perhaps more than any other artistic endeavor, often arises out of the practicalities of production and collaboration among artists and spaces and audiences. And also why I enjoy dramaturgy that tracks and uncovers the genesis of such collaborations, paying tribute to the behind-the-scenes people, like Simon Murgatroyd, like myself, like a huge majority of people working in professional theater . . . people quietly going about their business behind the scenes—building sets, programming lights, maintaining websites—all to foster a deeper connection among the audience, the work, the plays, the theaters, and the playwright that they love.

Someday I sincerely hope to visit the town of Scarborough. Though I have become a fan of his plays, it won’t be Sir Alan Ayckbourn with whom I hope to meet up with for tea.

Just Like a Dog

info@act-sf.org (American Conservatory Theater) — Thu, 29 Apr 2010 23:05:00 +0000

posted by Manoel Felciano, cast member of Round and Round the Garden

Associate Artist Manoel Felciano plays Norman in A.C.T.’s production of Round and Round the Garden. He writes about his unique inspiration for Alan Ayckbourn’s endearingly lusty librarian.

Character inspiration can come from the unlikeliest of sources. As rehearsals began for Round and Round the Garden, I was struck by how much my character, Norman, is compared to a dog in Ayckbourn’s text. He is lovingly described, with his “aimless sort of beard,” as “an Old English sheepdog . . . all woolly and doubled ended.”

Norman’s long-suffering wife, Ruth, who knows him best, describes him as follows: “It’s a bit like owning an oversized unmanageable dog, being married to Norman. He’s not very well house-trained, he needs continual exercising—mental and physical—and it’s sensible to lock him up if you have visitors. Otherwise he mauls them. But I’d hate to be rid of him.”

Of his philandering ways, Ruth wryly remarks: “He only jumps at people who encourage him. It’s a general rule, if you don’t want him licking your face, don’t offer him little tidbits.”

Now, lucky for me, shortly before rehearsals began I adopted an old fuzzball of a dog named Beethoven (who, incidentally, was also known for his unruly hair). Suddenly I had the perfect role model. Beethoven’s fluffy fur slowly began appearing all over my house in the same way Norman’s eager, passionate, excitable presence leaves its mark on everyone and everything in the play.

Beethoven is always happy to see me, tail wagging, deep soulful eyes looking up at me. What I’ve learned is that he exhibits the exact same behavior to anybody (my doorman, people he meets on the street) who might provide some chicken, a biscuit, or even a pat on the head. I don’t begrudge him this, because I realize that, similarly, Norman loves whichever woman is in front of him deeply, truthfully, and completely. He truly lives “in the moment,” unencumbered by such pesky things as past, history, future, and repercussions. His desire and ability to make women happy overwhelms all else.

At the end of the day, Norman, like Beethoven, just wants to play, consume (make love or eat), and sleep. He cannot resist temptation in any of those areas, no matter the risk. Beethoven will charge heedlessly off a ledge in pursuit of a tasty little bite. Similarly, Norman can’t pull himself away from playfully toying with the unknowing Reg and Tom, his allies and rivals in the play, or seducing their respective paramours, even though such behavior invariably leads to trouble.

Much as the golden retriever in Pixar’s Up confesses, “I was hiding under your porch because I love you. Can I stay?” Norman confesses that he is, if nothing else, “full of love!” adding, “Anyone I love is automatically beautiful.” It seems like a childish and naive way to look at the world, and perhaps it is, but then why do Beethoven and Norman both manage so unabashedly to pull at our heartstrings? More power to them!

Playing a Creature

info@act-sf.org (American Conservatory Theater) — Mon, 26 Apr 2010 19:03:00 +0000

posted by Courtney Thomas, A.C.T. Master of Fine Arts Program class of 2012

The A.C.T. Master of Fine Arts Program class of 2012 makes its public performance debut in Sam Shepard’s A Lie of the Mind. Courtney Thomas writes about preparing to take on this challenging play with her seven classmates at the end of her first year as an M.F.A. Program student.

Funny: I could have sworn I was the bravest and most outspoken fighter. That is, until I was introduced to Beth, the character I play in Sam Shepard’s A Lie of the Mind. That is what this journey has been about for me: finding my voice. Beth is not shy about saying what she wants, when she wants it, and, most importantly, why. So there is no room for me to be shy either, right? But it’s hard. I am rounding out my first year at A.C.T., where I have thrust myself into more uncomfortable situations than one could fathom with seven new people in my life. It was easy to get shy, and that shyness started to bleed into some of my work onstage.

Beth is teaching me a lesson or two about that. In her opinion, there is no time to waste. Even though she has a language disorder due to severe head trauma, she is still trying with all her might to talk. And not just to talk, but clawing and scratching her way to being understood by everyone around her. Similar to a very young child just learning to talk before he/she learns what is appropriate and polite. Or a kitten or a dog on the prowl refusing to let anything get in its way. All three of these exist in Beth. And just like each of them, Beth possesses this incredible ability to love so completely at the drop of a dime. That takes courage and a survivor’s spirit. Which is what makes her so amazingly challenging to play, because she takes the same qualities in me to a whole other level. There’s no backing down, no defeat—just this “bottomless well of great unmet need.” (Shout out to our director, the lovely Shana Cooper!) I’m learning to experience that ferocious, unapologetic need coming through my voice and body in order to give her a fighting chance at survival. It’s give and take with Beth and me, and letting all of me fully come through is my end of the bargain.

Playing this creature (and I call her that because “girl” or “woman” just wouldn’t cover all of her) is the perfect end to my first year. I’ve learned so much useful technique, and it is time to trust that all of it is there in me.

The Chalk Circle Experience

info@act-sf.org (American Conservatory Theater) — Thu, 18 Feb 2010 21:50:00 +0000

posted by Nick Childress, cast member of The Caucasian Chalk Circle

Nick Childress is a member of the A.C.T. Master of Fine Arts Program class of 2010 and a member of the cast of John Doyle’s production of The Caucasian Chalk Circle. Nick writes about his experience rehearsing Brecht's play for the A.C.T. mainstage.

When I found out that I was cast in The Caucasian Chalk Circle, I immediately shot up to cloud nine and spent weeks up there. Then one day a fellow cast member told me, “You’re going to have a lot of fun.” Now I am blessed to be a member of the M.F.A. Program, which I am very proud of. But I am also coming to the end of three years of having every ounce of work I have done be watched and commented on by a whole lotta faculty members, staff, and peers. So, needless to say, “Fun” is not often a word in my daily vocabulary when it comes to the rehearsal process.

“What? That cannot be right,” I thought to myself. I know what fun is. I mean, I’m 25. TRUST ME, I know how to have FUN. And my idea of Fun isn’t exactly what I equate with the pressure of developing stories in a medium where everyone has an opinion. Now don’t get me wrong, this is an enjoyable profession. But it’s also a job, and people don’t have “Fun” at work. Right? That just doesn’t happen . . . And then I went into rehearsal with John Doyle, Domenique Lozano, the rest of the Chalk Circle creative team, our fantastic stage management team, and this AMAZING CAST and realized that I’ve been incredibly wrong.

What’s interesting is that I have not had this much “Fun” since I was a little kid hopping around the living room in a pillow case dancing to the Monkees. What’s also interesting is that the work I see being done on a daily basis is not only really good, but it’s inspiring for the sheer fact that there is so much creative joy in the room. John Doyle is like a walking artistic bomb shelter: he keeps all of the pressure and danger out of the room, while keeping the good vibes along with the joys of creativity in the room. And the process is efficient, effective, and productive with minimal stress.

Story and the show aside, The Caucasian Chalk Circle experience has taught me that there isn’t anything wrong with having true Fun in the workplace at all. In fact, it makes going to work a breath of fresh air, and it is something I am glad I learned so young and hope I will never forget.

The Process of Devising a Theatrical Piece

info@act-sf.org (American Conservatory Theater) — Fri, 12 Feb 2010 00:03:00 +0000

posted by Mark Jackson

Local director Mark Jackson is creating an ensemble-devised piece with students from the A.C.T. Master of Fine Arts Program class of 2010. He writes about his experiences during the workshop that took place in January as part of our First Look program.

I’ve just completed a week of work with the third-year students of the Master of Fine Arts Program at A.C.T. I’d worked with them for two days back in December to get to know them and identify a subject for the piece we are to devise together in April. Unsurprisingly for a group of young actors on the verge of graduating from an M.F.A. program, conflicting thoughts about transition, change, and fame were foremost on their minds. This triad will comprise the subject of our piece.

Picking up the process again in January, we explored our subject further through a combination of activities. We played games emphasizing rhythm in movement and language and analyzed the dramaturgy of our experiences with the games. What are the rules of the game? How do we play them well? How do we play them poorly? A performance is like any sport. The rules don’t change from game to game. But some games are exciting, and some not. Why?

We brought in objects that served as metaphors for our subject. One of the actors held up a wool cap and said, “This is change. It’s reversible. I wanted this change because a woman wanted it.” He then held up a guitar pick and said, “This is fame. It’s easy to lose. I have to buy more fame because I keep losing it.” Another actor held up an empty notebook and said, “This is transition. It makes me feel a little wary. It has many pages to be filled.” We noted the connections between the metaphorical objects and their subject that felt most magical and surprising to us. Perhaps these objects will become props in our eventual piece.

I handed them a long list of seemingly unrelated narrative ingredients and gave them 30 minutes to compose two short pieces. One group told the story of a reporter hiding in a graveyard to snap pictures of a presidential candidate whom he knew was coming to visit the graves of two women he’d supposedly killed. The reporter hoped this story would revive his failing career. But when he witnessed the politician dancing tenderly with the ghost of one of the dead women, his compassion was aroused and he opted not to expose the man. The other group told the story of a theater diva who refused to go on because a certain critic had not yet arrived. When her mousy stage manager insisted the show go on, the diva committed suicide. The director coaxed the now very nervous stage manager into the diva’s shoes, and when she stepped out onstage she blossomed into confidence. These characters and situations are seeds for our eventual piece.

I asked the actors to ask three other people four questions: (1) What was a major transition in your life, from what to what? (2) What was a major change in your life? (3) Who is a famous person you admire, and why? (4) Who is a famous person you do not admire, and why? The answers revealed motifs. Transition often involved travel. The difference between the journey of transition and the destination of change was difficult for many people to discern. Obama was often admired. Paris Hilton was often not admired. Interviewees most relished the opportunity to talk about people they do not admire. We combined the experiences and views of these interviewees with the characters we’d developed in order to give the latter more texture.

In these and other ways, we’re digging up a mound of ideas while sorting through our own thoughts and feelings about our subject. In April we’ll devise a short theater piece from the bits of gold that shine out to us from the pile we’ve amassed.

Devising a piece is the most physically, intellectually, and emotionally demanding way to work, I think, because it asks so much of everyone. As performers we must also be playwrights, directors, designers, critics, and audience. The accidents that surprise us in our work are often the most exciting things, and so we must be open to embracing these “mistakes.” It takes bravery and daring to put oneself out there like that. But isn’t that at least one reason why we make theater? To encourage bravery and daring in the world? To say, “Look. I step out onstage. And I don’t die. Even when I fail. We can do this. Life is possible.”

On Translating Brecht

info@act-sf.org (American Conservatory Theater) — Thu, 28 Jan 2010 18:57:00 +0000

posted by Domenique Lozano

A.C.T. Associate Artist Domenique Lozano is creating a brand-new translation of Bertolt Brecht’s The Caucasian Chalk Circle with special permission from the Brecht estate. She writes about the process of facing this daunting task.

The experience of translating this beautiful play has been wonderful overall, but I sure am glad I didn’t know what I was getting into. By that I mean, I began the process by just taking one step at a time. I would do this one thing, and then the next, and I didn’t really think about the pressure of getting the script done. I didn’t dwell on the deadline, or the expectation of creating something that would have enough meat on it to feed the cast, stimulate the director, and keep the audience engaged. I would just think, “Well today, I’ve got to sort out the Simon/Grusche scenes.” No one at A.C.T. ever pressured me; there was only support from Carey, Michael, and from John Doyle. As if I’d done this before, as if they had absolute faith in me. So I never really sat in that place of doubting whether I could do this. I sort of wrote in a cocoon of bliss and support. Now that I’m on the other side of it, I think, I probably should have been more freaked out about the whole thing—after all, there is a fair amount of pressure and expectation riding on this—but I remain grateful that I was oblivious to it! As for the writing, there is a solitariness to it that I enjoy very much. At times dense and dry, other times it’s flowing and you’re sailing through it. This is German of the people, not in verse, not fancy in any way. It is a direct pulse, right into the heart of things. People say what they mean for the most part. Subtext is not Brecht’s forte in this piece.

I decided to approach the process of translating very directly. I first scanned the whole play into my computer and did a literal translation, aided by the Collins online dictionary and my mother, to whom I am so very grateful. After that, I worked through and did a first draft letting the language begin to sound like something a human would actually say, leaving the literalness of it. Then after John Doyle decided on the main casting for the roles, I went through the text again, this time allowing who was playing the roles to inform the language. Then John and I spent another weekend together, and we went through the text, thinking about who these people were even more specifically, and that shifted the language again. The whole process has been about layers revealing more layers.

The trickiest thing is translating something that is idiosyncratic, or very specifically German that has no English counterpart. It’s like trying to translate a joke in German to English—it never works. The Germans are roaring over that duck that smoked a cigar, and we Americans are going “Huh?” Some things even my mom didn’t know, so we would just make our best equivalent.

Working with John has been truly wonderful even from the first day in the room, auditioning the Master of Fine Arts Program students. There is something about him that allows people to do their best work. Something that simply and very clearly brings that forth. He is very direct, very kind, very present. He listens like no one I know. He makes me feel as if I know what I’m doing, and I’m doing it brilliantly. And that allows me to do my best work.

Re-envisioning a Set Design

info@act-sf.org (American Conservatory Theater) — Thu, 14 Jan 2010 22:17:00 +0000

posted by Christina Poddubiuk, Scenic and Costume Designer for Phèdre

Christina Poddubiuk designed the set and costumes for Phèdre at the Stratford Shakespeare Festival and has reconceived the set design for the show at A.C.T. She writes about this rare opportunity to recreate the world of the play.

When as a set and costume designer you have the good fortune to work mostly in classical theater, sooner or later you’re going to get to tackle the same piece more than once. I’ve done two Hamlets, three All’s Well That Ends Wells, and four Much Ados. What almost never happens is to work on the same play in two consecutive productions, and to have the opportunity to reconceive the set design.

Phèdre was designed for the Stratford Shakespeare Festival, where it was performed in an old badminton court that is one of their four theaters, on a 60-foot thrust stage. The scenery was necessarily minimal, due to the surround of the audience. We focused on a long painted ramp, and a sculptural piece set far upstage framing the main entrance. The costumes were decidedly baroque, but the setting was nonrepresentational. The imagery was celestial—we painted the inlaid floor as if it were a reflection of the sky, and the “cloud” upstage, built on a metal armature and covered with steel mesh and a gossamer textile, recalled an elemental force that could have been sea, sky, or stone.

Moving the production to the American Conservatory Theater, we took the opportunity of restaging the play for a completely new setting to explore different possibilities. Now the actors are enveloped in a world we’ve created, instead of embraced by the audience. They enter at times through the house, much as they did in a thrust-type theatre, but they can also inhabit the depths of the world beyond the proscenium. Some of the physical elements of the design have been used in new ways: there is a metal mesh screen, and twisting steel tubing. There’s a painted floor that recreates our original “runway,” but the imagery is new. The pulsing music and the raw emotion, tautly sustained in the text, have been translated almost as body parts—as blood vessels and nerve bundles. They lend themselves to many interpretations. They provide a landscape, a force of nature, a divine intervention, or a tangled thread. My hope, at the same time, was to provide more ways, and more visually powerful ways, of bringing actors into the space. And at the time of this writing, I am very much looking forward to how our lighting designer, Jim Ingalls, will sculpt the space and define moments in the play.

Set model for Phèdre

For Young Writers

info@act-sf.org (American Conservatory Theater) — Thu, 14 Jan 2010 21:18:00 +0000

posted by Philip Kan Gotanda

January is new-play development month at A.C.T. Although we continue to work with playwrights on new works throughout the year, First Look heats up this month with a series of readings and workshops. The readings are not open to the public, but you can find more information about this program here.

One of this January’s featured writers, Philip Kan Gotanda (author of the A.C.T.–commissioned hit play After the War) shares his thoughts about making a career in playwriting.

Young writers: I would encourage working to cultivate relationships with theaters you respect. More specifically artistic directors. This is as important as the work itself. A playwright is someone who writes plays that are produced, not sit in someone’s hard drive. I think it wise to have working relationships with more than one theater. Ideally a larger, nationally respected institution, then a smaller black box experimental house, and finally, in my case, an Asian American–centric theater. They can’t individually serve all the specific aesthetic and political needs of your work, but collectively they can serve you more fully as a total artist and career playwright. A.C.T. has been my large institutional home and allows me to have the highest production values possible, access to the very best talent in the nation, and a launch that will receive national if not worldwide profile. The black box experimental house has been Intersection for the Arts: Campo Santo, which has allowed me to push my work to the edges without feeling I was not allowed to fail—artistically or in terms of audience attendance. In some form or fashion you have to go beyond your known aesthetic skin to grow, and that sometimes means failing. Not that you want to. It’s simply a by-product of making work that is inventively cutting new artistic territory for you. And, finally, the local Asian American Theater Company provides a place to return home—to help other young artists, pass on knowledge; to work with others who share a common social, political, ideological shorthand in hopes of expanding its definition and maintaining its relevancy to current times; and to remember one’s beginnings.

I Dream of Chang and Eng

info@act-sf.org (American Conservatory Theater) — Tue, 12 Jan 2010 19:23:00 +0000

posted by Philip Kan Gotanda

January is new-play development month at A.C.T. Although we continue to work with playwrights on new works throughout the year, First Look heats up this month with a series of readings and workshops. The readings are not open to the public, but you can find more information about this program here.

One of this January’s featured writers, Philip Kan Gotanda (author of the A.C.T.–commissioned hit play After the War) shares his thoughts about playwriting and his new work I Dream of Chang and Eng.

I have this thing where I sit on plays for years before I write them. I can literally feel them inside of me. It’s a kind of amorphous nonspecific locus of knowledge that bumps around inside of me sucking up whatever it deems necessary to building a particular literary house. And it pulls in stuff from every conceivable exchange or encounter, waking or sleeping. My play Ballad of Yachiyo waited around for a good seven years before a night in the hospital keeping company with my convalescing wife cracked something open. (She is fine!) Chang and Eng has broken all records, and I’d frankly abandoned any thoughts about writing it. See, I’ve been trying to write this play about the original Siamese Twins for some 20 years. Yup, 20 years. I have notebooks of research and errant drafts sitting around. But last year while codirecting my play Fist of Roses with UC Berkeley Theater, Dance & Performance Studies students, I began to write in spare moments. I didn’t go back to my notes; I decided to just let it go and not worry about anything that came before. Just let it go.

The title is a bit odd for me: I Dream of Chang and Eng. It intimates me, the writer, appearing in the work. The title came a few years ago and I used it, never thought anything more about it. Then yesterday I began to notice the title. Hmm, perhaps it’s my way of saying this is my version of Chang and Eng’s lives. That is, a telling with more regard paid to my necessary imagination than historical fact. And that is fine by me. I’m telling a story, my story, and I openly state that. And in fact, despite the fact that there is a wealth of literature out there regarding Chang and Eng, there is very little firsthand information, only a few letters and shopping lists of items for the farms. Almost all that you read is taken from reportage, secondary sources, and speculation. As far as authentic voice, from their primary point of view? Almost nil. All else is gleaned from other people’s versions of who they were. So I imagine them. I dream them.

Traveling for Phèdre

info@act-sf.org (American Conservatory Theater) — Sat, 09 Jan 2010 00:13:00 +0000

posted by Seana McKenna, cast member of Phèdre

Seana McKenna—a company member of Canada’s Stratford Shakespeare Festival, where she played the title role in Carey Perloff’s production of Phèdre—recently arrived in San Francisco, where she will reprise her performance in the A.C.T. production of Racine’s 17th-century classic. McKenna writes about her struggles in trying to get to San Francisco from Toronto for the first day of rehearsal.

This is my first blog. For a relative Luddite, this is a major step into the 21st century. A decade late, I know. But I have an 11-year-old son, so the last ten years are a bit of a blur.

As are the last few days. I have just finished my first week of rehearsal for Racine’s Phèdre at A.C.T. I left, or rather, tried to leave Toronto on December 26th. Yes, December 26th. My fellow cast member Tom McCamus and I were in the center of the maelstrom at Pearson International, when increased security measures resulted in delays of more than six hours, more than 100 cancelled flights, and lineups of hundreds and hundreds of people. We stood in one line for two hours to get luggage tags, then in another line for customs for three hours, for a flight that was to leave at 5:30 p.m., but was rescheduled for 8 p.m. At 7:30 p.m., we were told our flight was cancelled and we should all go home and reschedule our flight. Flights were booked for us the next day, by A.C.T.’s wonderful interim company manager, Tim Cole. We arrived four hours early for our noon flight to Charlotte, and then for a flight from Charlotte to Newark, and then from Newark to San Francisco. If you check a map, connecting those dots does not make for a pretty picture. We would arrive in Newark six hours after we left Toronto. And we were not driving. We would arrive in San Francisco at midnight our time.

We had various holdups in customs: we stood in line three times, being told to sign forms by one agent that were not required by the next agent (the wrong form was ripped in half before my eyes with what might be construed as relish). For reasons unknown to me, I was sent to secondary inspection. Perhaps it was my paperwork; perhaps it was my profession (did I detect disdain when I said “actor”?); or perhaps it was my confession of a box of chocolates in my suitcase. Tom’s agent let him through. Same paperwork, same profession, but no chocolates. That had to be it.

So, I sat in a room where no cell phones are to be used, for an hour, while three agents fingerprinted, photographed, and interrogated the 12 to 15 people in the room. My agent was very kind—a man with a Spanish accent who was intrigued by the play I was going to do. He asked me many questions about the plot, why Phèdre wanted to kill herself, why they thought my husband was dead, who was the stepson. He asked if he could see the play in Toronto. I said no, it had finished its run in Stratford, and we were recreating it in San Francisco. He seemed genuinely disappointed, wished me luck, and stamped my passport.

I was relieved and shaken. I met Tom and we made the flight. A good thing we had come four hours early.

The flight from Charlotte to Newark was delayed by an hour, and we were sure we would miss the connection to San Francisco. We booked a backup flight for 6 a.m. the next morning and imagined a nice dinner in Newark and a hunt for a hotel. Our flight arrived in Newark at 6 p.m., the connecting flight leaving at 6:15 p.m. We ran. We went through security again, as the gate was at the other end of the airport. When we arrived at the gate, no attendant was at the desk. We looked through the locked door, and banged on it. Two air attendants came to the door and took our tickets! Out of breath, we had barely sat down when the plane started moving. We arrived in San Francisco at 12:30 a.m., and, miraculously, our luggage had also made it onto the plane.

We were met by A.C.T. Company Manager Dianne Prichard, and arrived at our lodging by 1:30 a.m. Landed. I had sacrificed my cell phone to the gods, though. Must have slipped out of my vest’s half-zipped pocket when I was trying to spaghetti myself into some sleeping configuration in the middle seat of a three-seat row. But it was found, and was overnighted to the theater. From Philadelphia. Don’t ask. I didn’t.

A New Family

info@act-sf.org (American Conservatory Theater) — Tue, 22 Dec 2009 20:38:00 +0000

posted by Omozé Idehenre, A.C.T. Master of Fine Arts Program class of 2010

Omozé bonds with the Carol kids during the annual latke party.

The word carol is defined as “a song of joy” and/or “to sing in a lively and joyous manner.” When I think of A Christmas Carol, I think of the chance to perform this particular custom during this special and particular period of time. Caroling is an opportunity to let go of all the stress you’ve retained throughout the year and put it to something useful before the New Year. It is a joy one is fortunate to receive when people take the attention off of themselves and give it to others. How great it is to know that, no matter what, we all can get the chance to let our hearts sing in a joyous manner again and again.

Participating in A.C.T.’s production of A Christmas Carol has truly been an incredible experience. I’ve been saying this A LOT, but it has felt like a vacation of sorts. Much of this, I feel, has to do with getting the opportunity to work with various generations of actors outside of school. Each of the M.F.A. students has a mentee from the Young Conservatory participating in the show, and in turn we are mentored by core company members and guest actors. The beauty of this is the incredible bonds we form with one another while performing on the stage of a professional theater. With the constant laughter and conversation, you really can’t help but let go and just be in the joy and festiveness of it all. Last week, for instance, the kids and their parents threw their amazing annual latke party. While sitting at the table, watching the kids perform, it occurred to me how incredible and all-inclusive tradition can be. Every individual is different, but the simplest act, song, plate of food, or gathering place can truly bind. It’s really difficult that I won’t be with my family this holiday, but being welcomed by another family truly ameliorates this. It’s been a blessing.

Lastly, I think one of the greatest things that I will take away from all of this are the relationships that I formed with many of the actors during this whole process. Coming into it, after a very long semester, I feel my mind was stuck more on the work of it all. But once we got into rehearsals with the kids, especially onstage, it became more about the play and one another. I love those kids!!!

Revisiting Phèdre

info@act-sf.org (American Conservatory Theater) — Fri, 18 Dec 2009 20:42:00 +0000

posted by Claire Lautier, cast member of Phèdre

Claire Lautier plays Aricie in Phèdre, a new translation of Racine’s 17th-century French tragedy directed by A.C.T. Artistic Director Carey Perloff in a coproduction between A.C.T. and the Stratford Shakespeare Festival in Ontario, Canada. Presented at Stratford last summer, Phèdre arrives at the American Conservatory Theater in January. Lautier will travel to San Francisco along with many members of the original cast to revisit Racine’s classic drama at A.C.T.

As I write this, I’m sitting in a public place in the midst of squawking televisions, ringtones, a dozen cell phone conversations, background music, loudspeaker announcements, engines and horns, beeps and chirps, fluorescent lights, flashing screens, diesel fumes, and the rhythmic bouncing of my seat as the person down the bench from me jiggles his legs frantically while listening to an iPod and playing a video game. And I think to myself, I should write that blog entry for Phèdre. What should I talk about? I’ve never written a blog entry of any kind before (what would I say and who would care?). In this environment I draw an even bigger blank—my surroundings seem pretty incongruous with ideas about French court drama!

After a month in New York City, I’m pretty worn out from sleep deprivation. Somehow I managed to live here for 17 years without being overly affected by it, but after nine months in beautiful, blissful, and quiet Stratford, coming back to the city has been a rude awakening and I feel as if my nervous system is screaming for peace. So I’m REALLY looking forward to being at A.C.T., in San Francisco, a city I’ve only briefly visited. But mostly, I’m looking forward to sinking into the world I remember from this summer, which is Phèdre. It’s not that often you get to reexamine a piece a few months after a run, and in a radically different setting. During the summer, it felt like we barely scratched the surface; by the time I began to feel grounded, the run was over. In Stratford, we played on a rep schedule, so although we usually did eight performances a week, we were doing two or even three different plays in that week. It was usually several days between performances of Phèdre, which can be either refreshing or disorienting. I found it a real challenge to get underneath the material and stay there. I liken it to dropping anchor in a deep ocean, going to sleep, and waking up the next morning to find you’ve drifted off course somehow with your anchor trailing.

As I relive the play in my mind I have a full-body experience in direct contrast to my environment. My memories are of stillness: listening, breathing, light reflected by the water in the fountain, a bare stage. The words are spare and dangerous; they emerge from an ominous silence, reaching through the long expanse of space. We can only perceive silence because of sound; when we do, we notice that underneath the sound and ever present is the deep, deep silence and stillness. What finally emerges from that silence, from the primordial depths of our psyches, long suppressed, is what sets the events of the play in motion, inexorably, until there is only one possible outcome. I want to drop back into that kinetic stillness, that pure potential. I find that stimulating and profoundly satisfying—and a refreshing antidote to the modern world of pervasive, meaningless noise.

So I’m excited! I get to work at A.C.T.! I’m looking forward to reuniting with Carey and our cast and creative team, meeting the new cast members, and seeing what happens when we go from a long thrust stage to a proscenium. How will we do it? How will it affect the play? How will Aricie be influenced by it? In Stratford, the audience was so close and surrounded us; at A.C.T they’ll be “out there” and we’ll be “up here.” It’s the same play, but it won’t be the same play. It will be totally new!

Christmas Produce

info@act-sf.org (American Conservatory Theater) — Thu, 03 Dec 2009 18:39:00 +0000

posted by Shelley Carter, A.C.T. Artistic Intern

Two Turkish figs (Isabella Ateshian and Rachel Share-Sapolsky)

in the 2007 production of A Christmas Carol.

“Too big to be a fig. Maybe an onion though,” says veteran A.C.T. Casting Director Meryl Shaw.
“Or even a plum?” offers A Christmas Carol Casting Consultant Greg Hubbard.

From outside the door of the casting office, I wondered what mystery fruit my two bosses could be discussing. Surely something exotic.

“Hey, Shelley, could you come help us with this produce?” Meryl called.

Expecting to see them peering over a small tropical fruit, I was surprised to see them huddled around the picture of a small adorable child. As the new artistic intern at A.C.T., I’ll admit there is a lot of casting terminology for me to learn, but I was highly perplexed by their farmers’ market vocabulary.

“It’s just that we have a zillion onions. I’m tearing up all ready,” says Meryl.

I furrow my brow and nod, playing along. Very pale and onionlike, I agree. Seeing my obvious confusion Meryl explained what anyone who has seen A.C.T.’s A Christmas Carol will all ready know:
the Ghost of Christmas Present reveals to Scrooge the “sensory delights of the holiday season” by showing him a delectable array of Spanish onions, Turkish figs, and French plums—all portrayed by students in A.C.T.’s Young Conservatory.

Cut to September 9, the day after initial A Christmas Carol auditions, when, after weeks upon weeks of preparation, Carol director Domenique Lozano, Meryl, Greg, and I find ourselves in the midst of a veritable fruit basket of auditionees.

I was astounded at the amount of, ahem, “raw” talent and professionalism exhibited by these young actors. In all seriousness, though, the kids showed an incredibly high degree of focus, commitment, and energy. We were all surprised at the skill level of these young actors, who brought in audition pieces as varied as Shakespeare, Oscar Wilde, and the Beatles. Seeing a young actor tackle the middle-aged and imposing Paulina from The Winter’s Tale with such mastery over speech and language was very impressive, to say the least. One of the more delicious highlights of the evening included a rendition of ye olde YouTube classic, “Banana Phone.” It was work you could really sink your teeth into. Meryl regaled us with favorite stories from previous auditions, such as last year’s Ilya (who played Boy Dick in 2008) performing both Gwendolyn and Cecily in a scene from The Importance of Being Earnest.

There are so many difficult factors that go into casting a show, like older actors who are a wee bit too “ripe,” or younger ones who might still be too “green.” Mentally, I found myself trying to keep up with Meryl and Greg’s observations, “Yes, yes. His portrayal of the onion has . . . many . . . layers?” I think. The acting work seems so . . . organic. Finally, after a marathon 14 hours of auditions, we decided we’d had enough of speaking “fig-uratively” because we were all, indeed, plum tired.

Holding Back My Tears as a "Carol Mom"

info@act-sf.org (American Conservatory Theater) — Tue, 01 Dec 2009 19:30:00 +0000

posted by Susan Berston

Each year, A.C.T.’s annual production of A Christmas Carol features almost two dozen young actors as young as eight, who are all students in A.C.T.’s acclaimed Young Conservatory. Susan Berston, whose 12-year-old son, Samuel, appears as Ned Cratchit in this year’s production, writes about the rewards and challenges of being a first-time “Carol mom.”

Hearing the joy in my son’s voice, listening to him sing Christmas carols in early November, and noticing a pronounced bounce in his step, I have pondered whether being a “Carol mom” is almost as exciting as being in his shoes. My son, Samuel, has always loved to act both “on- and offstage” since the age of four, but it wasn’t until a year ago in Betty Schneider’s musical theater class in A.C.T.’s Young Conservatory that he realized there were other more serious, like-minded “singing, dancing, and acting” kids like himself. Ms. Schneider is a talented vocal and acting coach, with a magic and gentle influence unparalleled by other teachers my son has experienced. She is one of those teachers who have made a difference, and an integral part of his journey to bring him to the stage of A Christmas Carol as Ned Cratchit. This brings me to write this blog to share with you—the Carol experience from a parent’s perspective.

I soon became immersed in learning new jargon in order to understand where and when my son was to be for rehearsals. A “callback” meant a “second interview.” To “read” translated to reciting lines for a given role during an audition. And my son was “cast” in the production—based upon factors we could only randomly guess during the surprisingly warm and friendly audition process. The nightly emails with the following day’s schedule took some decoding, with the assistance of a dedicated and detailed “veteran” parent, Lisa Share-Sapolsky. In layperson’s terms, she provided more detail to terms like “straight six,” “release times,” and “break coverage.” At the parents’ meeting, I was embarrassingly overwhelmed with the volume of information disseminated and number of names to remember. Despite information overload, I felt the bond between the parents, who strongly realize the immense value this experience holds for each of our children.

Even with uncertainty around daily schedules and planning, shuttling back and forth, and some missed school, I knew the growth experience, confidence building, and actor training (more like boot camp) would be unparalleled. As a parent, and for full disclosure, of an only child, I’ve pretty much followed and encouraged my son’s passions—and whether he was “cast” or not, I sensed the audition experience, while a little scary for him, would be a learning one at that. An experience, regardless of role, with a multigenerational cast would help my son respect the choice of those who have chosen acting as a career. Developing relationships, camaraderie, and friendships with an immensely creative, focused, fun-loving, and extremely bright bunch of new kids has proven to be invaluable. Samuel has been exposed to the professional world of theater and the opportunity to be mentored by one very vivacious, sensitive, and extremely talented actor and M.F.A. student, David Jacobs.

As opening night approaches, I’ll bet you that Ned Cratchit’s mom will most likely be holding back her tears as she sees her son realizing his dream on the A.C.T. stage, knowing that his experience will transcend as a source of growth and inspiration offstage for many years to come.

Samuel Berston gets fitted for his costume for A Christmas Carol.

The Reality of Theater

info@act-sf.org (American Conservatory Theater) — Wed, 25 Nov 2009 22:11:00 +0000

posted by Rusty Rueff, A.C.T. Trustee

One night last month, Thursday, October 17, San Francisco was marking just another night of theater being performed on stages throughout the city and the Bay Area.

On that night the American Conservatory Theater was in an extended run of full houses for the Kneehigh Theatre production of Noël Coward’s Brief Encounter. This fusion piece set in England during World War II told us of unfulfilled love and escape in a tumultuous time. Next door at the Curran Theatre, the touring company of Rent, with Anthony Rapp (original Mark) and Adam Pascal (original Roger), was sold out, with a raucous crowd watching the La Bohème story, told through Jonathon Larson’s characters, about poor, HIV/AIDS–infected, starving artists in New York City. They sang of the hope of dying in dignity with others caring about their plight. Across town another sold-out war-themed show was turning away people who wanted to see the Lincoln Center production of South Pacific—another love story, set in the islands of the South Pacific with war raging all around them. On the other side of the Bay, Berkeley Rep was extended with standing-room-only audiences eager to see the rock opera American Idiot. Green Day’s musical rant against war, government oppression, big-government mismanagement, and societal pressures caught fire and enraptured the audience for 90 minutes of nonstop push. Back in San Francisco, the A.C.T. Master of Fine Arts Program students, under the direction of Jonathan Moscone, artistic director of Cal Shakes, were presenting Rebecca Lenkiewicz’s play Her Naked Skin, about women’s rights and the struggle for suffrage in turn-of-the-century Britain. This play was the first by a woman playwright to be presented on the National Theatre’s Olivier Stage in London. This moving work reminded us that human rights advancement is a contemporary issue and we still have a long way to go until all are treated equally. Another National Theatre production was in town that night, as well. There was a simulcast screening of their All’s Well That Ends Well at the Sundance Kabuki film theater. On top of all of the live theater in town that night, a few hundred people were taking in Shakespeare through the cinema screen, in an effort by the National to build better relations with the American audience.

I know I have missed at least another half dozen to a dozen other plays that were running on that night, as well. There is always much theater in our town on any given night.

But on that night the theater became reality as at the same time that curtains were rising across the Bay Area, just over in Union Square, at the St. Francis Hotel, the first sitting U.S. president to visit San Francisco in nearly a decade was speaking live. President Obama turned out thousands of supporters to hear him update them on the issues of our time, issues that were all around him that night in the theaters of the Bay Area: war, health care, human rights, the social-class divide, international relations, the economy in the context of the financial crisis, and government’s role in all of this. President Obama didn’t need to look much further than the scripts and librettos of the theaters around him that night to find relevant substance for his speeches.

We go to the theater to suspend our disbelief and to experience the stories of others so we connect and feel. We use the theater to wrestle with the issues that are our own. We sometimes find what is true reality being no further away than just on the stage before us.

On this one night in San Francisco in October of 2009, the theater was as real as it gets.

A Winter Ritual

info@act-sf.org (American Conservatory Theater) — Wed, 25 Nov 2009 00:44:00 +0000

posted by Michael Paller, A.C.T. Dramaturg and Director of Humanities

I miss the seasons in San Francisco. Growing up in the Midwest and then living for over two decades in New York City, the seasons were markers of time: a return to either school or work accompanied by falling leaves in autumn; holidays marked by singing and an abundance of lights and genuine good cheer all over the city, followed by what seemed like endless cold and snow in the winter that made arriving at one’s final destination all the more rewarding; warmth and greenery in the spring; hot days and long vacations in the summer. Each season heralded something both new and familiar. You could count on these things; there was comfort in the cyclical nature of the world and in the annual rituals we create to mark them.

As far as I can tell, there are no seasons in San Francisco. People tell me that they exist, but I don’t believe them, unless fog is a season, in which case there’s one. Eight leaves on the ground in front of my building? Oh, fall has arrived. Two hot days (meaning over 75 degrees) in a row? It’s summer. Unless it’s late September. Or October. It all runs together.

And so in November it’s a great pleasure to go upstairs to the William Ball Rehearsal Studio and see 40 people at work on our fifth annual go-round of Carey Perloff’s and Paul Walsh’s A Christmas Carol. This annual ritual says winter to me, although this year, the season will have barely begun when the last chorus of “Look Up!” fades away into the American Conservatory Theater’s dome at about 7:30 p.m. on December 27. It’s not just that the story takes place at the winter solstice (do we have that out here?), or that Dickens’s story embodies what’s coldest and warmest about the season. It’s the ritual that we at A.C.T. enact each year, when our core acting company mentors our third-year M.F.A. students, each of whom has a role, while they, in turn, mentor the many cast members who train in our Young Conservatory. The ritual has a new twist this year: more of the core company is appearing in the show than ever, as René Augesen and Gregory Wallace join the cast as the Cratchits, mère and père, alongside Jack Willis as the Ghost of Jacob Marley. Steven Anthony Jones will be pitching in at certain performances, as well. And other adult members of our cast are back, as regular as a snowless San Francisco December: James Carpenter as Scrooge, Sharon Lockwood as Mrs. Dilber and Mrs. Fezziwig, Jarion Monroe as Mr. Fezziwig, and BW Gonzalez as the Ghost of Christmas Present.

Just as each winter is different from the last but still winter, each year’s Christmas Carol is both familiar and new. The story’s the same, and while the lines come one after another in a reassuringly recognizable way, the third-year M.F.A. students who say many of them are new—and yet familiar to those of us who have taught them for the last two years. Watching them rehearse the party scene at the home of Scrooge’s nephew, Fred, on Christmas Day, the outlines of the scene are the same as always—young, exuberant people living fully in their enjoyment of each other and the season—but the details are fresh, invented anew, moment by moment, by this young cast and our director, Domenique Lozano.

By the end of the rehearsal, although I’ve heard the ending of the “Yes and No” game more times than I can count over the years, I’m as delighted as if it’s brand new—which it is—and cozily familiar—which it also is. Which is what a holiday ritual should be.

Inspired By Turkeys

info@act-sf.org (American Conservatory Theater) — Tue, 17 Nov 2009 20:14:00 +0000

posted by Manoel Felciano, A.C.T. Core Acting Company member

When I learned I was going to play "A Representative of the National Association of Turkey and Turkey By-Products Manufacturers," I was a bit baffled at first. Who is this mysterious, bespectacled, mustachioed man with a few anger management issues? In David Mamet's play November, this hapless fellow has earned the great privilege of introducing the president of the United States to the two turkeys that ceremonially get pardoned every Thanksgiving. I imagined this was one of the highest honors that a "Turkey Guy" could get, and he's been preparing for this moment for months, if not years, and can't wait to shake hands and get a picture with the POTUS himself. Unfortunately for our intrepid hero, he can't even get his first words out before he is cut off, and things go rapidly downhill for him throughout the rest of the evening.

So how to find this character? I looked in the dictionary under "hapless" expecting to find a picture of myself staring back at me, but no luck. So I went right to this guy's passion, his livelihood, indeed his very raison d'être: TURKEYS. I got lost in the fascinating and sometimes terrifying world that is the turkey industry in this country largely through their advocacy organization, The National Turkey Federation. This is where I discovered their, I mean my, motto: "Turkey: The Perfect Protein." That's where our costume designer, Alex Jaeger found the pièce de résistance of my costume, a pin featuring a gold turkey in relief, flying, claws extended over a waving star-spangled banner. I read up on the myths that continue to spread the malicious belief that turkeys are dumber than rocks—that turkeys will stare up in a thunderstorm, mouths open, until they drown. Or that you have to put colored pebbles in their drinking water so they think it is food and peck at it, otherwise they will die of dehydration. Hmm . . . my Representative was not the sharpest guy either, a bit slow on the uptake. OK, good to know.

I learned that Minnesota has one of the highest number of turkey farms in the country, so suddenly my Turkey Guy was from Minnesota. Somehow I had decided he was named Herb, and since he was now from Minnesota, he might have Scandinavian heritage, so I named him Herbert Blomstedt, which may ring a bell to longtime SF Symphony fans. Finally I watched a lot of YouTube videos of actual turkeys and their physical behaviors. I tried to incorporate how they turn their head sideways to look at something, since they can't use both eyes to focus on anything. Of course I watched their "gobbler" and finally put to good use the double chin I've been self-conscious of for years. Various bits of head bobbing and weaving slowly started to creep into Herb's physicality. Most of all, I kept in mind that my character was always one step away from disaster, from being shipped off to a military prison in Bulgaria, or from the president potentially wrecking the turkey industry's annual Thanksgiving Day windfall. I found the perfect metaphor for this in a video of Sarah Palin after pardoning a turkey, giving an interview while one of the turkey's less fortunate brethren is unceremoniously thrust into a grinder in the background. Herb's mantra became: Avoid the grinder. Avoid the grinder. Avoid the grinder.

Needless to say I will sit down to Thanksgiving Day dinner this year with a whole new perspective. Gobble gobble!

The West Coast Premiere of David Mamet's November at A.C.T. continues its extended run through November 22.

A Unique Collaboration

info@act-sf.org (American Conservatory Theater) — Fri, 13 Nov 2009 19:50:00 +0000

posted by Gillian Confair, stage manager of The Soldier’s Tale

A.C.T. Master of Fine Arts Program student Marisa Duchowny performs with

the New Music Ensemble of the San Francisco Conservatory of Music.

Four members of the A.C.T. Master of Fine Arts Program class of 2011 are in rehearsal for Stravinsky’s groundbreaking theatrical piece The Soldier’s Tale, produced in A.C.T.’s first-ever collaboration with the New Music Ensemble of the San Francisco Conservatory of Music. A.C.T. Associate Artist Giles Havergal and New Music Ensemble Artistic Director Nicole Paiement lead the unique joint venture. Stage manager Gillian Confair—who recently completed a year-long internship at A.C.T.—describes the unique experience of working on this unusual multidisciplinary project.

I find myself in the rare and difficult position of having to stage-manage a show that is not, by its basic definition, a show at all. If you were to call this piece anything, perhaps a “concert” would be the word to describe it. More likely than not, “performance” is the word that would give it its due. It’s an interesting piece, at the junction of two separate but equally wondrous branches of the arts. The Soldier’s Tale contains the elegance and beauty of the symphony, and the joy and passion of the stage, slotted together in one cohesive, intricate piece. They are, indeed, strange bedfellows, but their commingling creates a rare and interesting work.

During our first rehearsal, Giles Havergal, our fearless director, spoke to the actors about what place this piece has in their education. He talked to them about the academic challenge of a work like this, and about The Soldier’s Tale as an exercise of their vocality and physicality as performers. It’s a challenge they have certainly risen to. Because of the atypical nature of this piece they find themselves without the limitations of staged drama or comedy.

The realm The Soldier’s Tale resides in requires an entirely different approach to characters and to storytelling. The challenge doesn’t fall on the actors’ shoulders alone. I can honestly say that this is one of the most difficult pieces I’ve had the opportunity to work on. Coordinating with the Conservatory of Music, overseeing rehearsals, and preparing for performance are only the beginnings of it for me. This piece marks the first time I’ll be calling a show from directly onstage. It also marks the first time that I will be combining the skill sets I’ve acquired through theater and dance work. Instead of tracking cues through words I’ll be reading measures of music, following along in a score while quick changing actors into and out of coats and cueing light changes. It is a bit daunting. It’s also extremely exciting for me. The Soldier’s Tale is stretching my skills and knowledge, testing my problem solving, and keeping me on my toes in a way that I enjoy.

Rehearsal has been entertaining, watching the actors learn dance choreography, me juggling a script, a score, and a combined master copy, watching them create grandiose characters, bobbing and weaving through chairs that mark the place for orchestra members, laughing and working our way through complicated pieces. It promises to be an amazing show, and a unique theatrical experience. I count myself lucky to be a part of it.

The Soldier’s Tale performs at 7 p.m. and 9 p.m. on Saturday, November 14, 2009, at the San Francisco Conservatory of Music. For more information, please visit www.sfcm.edu.

Who Wants to Be a Psychoanalyst?

info@act-sf.org (American Conservatory Theater) — Fri, 06 Nov 2009 23:44:00 +0000

posted by Linda Lagemann, Ph.D., Wendy Stern, D.M.H., and A.C.T. Group Sales Manager Edward Budworth

The fifth season of the wildly successful Theater on the Couch program at A.C.T. started off running after the performance of Brief Encounter on Friday, September 18. Dr. Linda Lagemann and Dr. Wendy Stern of the San Francisco Center for Psychoanalysis were the panelists. Cast member Joseph Alessi joined in and brought many insights into the characters he portrays.

In this production, boundaries were broken. As cast members appeared in the audience and live characters entered movie scenes, the production created in us the feelings that the two protagonists, Laura and Alec, have as they breach boundaries. Fantasy and reality were also blended—aspects of the play were structured like a dream. The visual images projected on the back wall and the music expressed the unconscious feelings of the characters bubbling up. A perfect vehicle for a lively discussion!

From a psychoanalytic standpoint, Brief Encounter posed the common dilemma of any era: how does one have more than just a brief encounter with the passions of life? Other themes that came up during the discussion were loss, limitations of reality, integration of suppressed feelings and split-off aspects of the self, impossible love, and suppression of life dreams.

To make the event truly interactive, and since vignettes from the play can be analyzed like a dream, the panelists stimulated discussion by playing “Who Wants to Be a Psychoanalyst?” with the attendees.

You, too, can play along with these questions, but don’t let the answers provided limit your thinking:

Question 1. A patient tells you, “I had this dream: it was in my living room, but it was like in a black-and-white movie, and there were two empty chairs in the room.” What hypothesis do you have?

A. The dream reveals your patient secretly wants to apply to be on the reality show Extreme Makeover: Home Edition.
B. A couple of vibrant throw pillows would really punch up the look and take this room from drab to fab.
C. Clearly this dream image represents two people having wild sex.
D. Neither your patient nor her husband is really “present” at home. They each have so much of their self repressed or split off that all that is left in the marriage is dull and colorless. Their marriage is static, not alive.

Question 2. A patient tells you, “I had a dream I had something in my eye: I couldn’t see clearly and I was in pain. Then this man helped me.” What does it mean?

A. The dream is a premonition of an impending eye injury.
B. Through complex unconscious symbolism, the dream is communicating that your patient has something in her eye, is in pain, and needs to see an optometrist.
C. Your patient has not been able to see the barren state of her life and marriage. The pain of her life has become unbearable. This is triggered by the encounter with the man.
D. Not enough information to know.

(This is a trick question. While answer “C” is compelling and is a theory that could fit, “D” is the correct answer and serves as a reminder to all psychoanalysts, official and honorary, that while we may have knowledge of how the unconscious works, it is only in a collaborative process with the patient and their associations that meaning is uncovered.)

Question 3. A patient tells you, “I had a dream I was at a train station, Milford Junction, talking to a man I met about a time when I was more alive and adventurous. Then a powerful wave swept over us.”
What hypothesis do you have?

A. Your patient should avoid the train station today as there will be a tsunami.
B. She has unresolved feelings from age 5 about her first “boyfriend”, named Milford, who loved Thomas the Train more than her.
C. Her unconscious mind is telling her that she needs to wake up and go pee.
D. She is at a junction in her life. Big emotions, long repressed, are sweeping over her like a force of nature.

Our regular “Couch” groupies tell us that these sessions are enlightening and entertaining and that they gain a much deeper understanding and appreciation of the show they have just seen.

We hope you will join us for these upcoming Theater on the Couch discussions:

Phèdre (January 22, 2010)

Vigil (April 2, 2010)

Round and Round the Garden (May 7, 2010)

Diving into Williams's New Orleans

info@act-sf.org (American Conservatory Theater) — Wed, 21 Oct 2009 21:08:00 +0000

posted by Brian Jansen, A.C.T. Master of Fine Arts Program class of 2011

There are so many positive changes taking place right now at A.C.T. I thought I’d blog about one improvement, which is the newly zoned performance space for the Conservatory. For years, A.C.T. M.F.A. Program students have staged wonderful productions in Hastings Studio Theater, but due to zoning regulations these shows were by invitation only and not open to the public.

This year we are excited that Hastings has been designated as a public performance space. It allows the public to come see the wonderful work going on in the Conservatory, and enhances student training by extending our run to allow more shows. Two plays are opening there this week featuring the 12 student actors in the M.F.A. class of 2011, and we hope you’ll come!

The plays are by two American legends—Tennessee Williams’s Vieux Carré and Sam Shepard’s Fool for Love. We’ve been working hard with our two directors—A.C.T. dramaturg Michael Paller and core acting company member Jack Willis.

I am part of the Vieux Carré cast and have had a good time exploring the world of 1938 New Orleans. The story revolves around a young writer struggling with his homosexuality and literary ambitions. Set in the decaying glamour of a boarding house in the French Quarter, it is a memory play teeming with longing, loneliness, sensuality, smoke, and jazz in the last part of the Great Depression.

I play a drifter jazz musician who enters the writer’s life and invites him to escape to the freedom of the open road. It is a role that plays in contrast to the other characters, who are trapped in the
confinement and dissolution of the boarding house. Researching the role, I listened to a lot of New Orleans jazz, cooked gumbo, and took another look at the definitive American road trip novel (set ten years after Vieux Carré), Jack Kerouac’s On the Road.

Williams fills the play with the Southern eccentricities, evocative atmosphere, and sense of lyrical passion we have come to love in his best work, and it has been a sultry place to spend the last few weeks of rehearsal. I think Vieux Carré is something of a lost treasure—brimming with heart and heartbreak, and moments of hilarity in this bizarre Bohemia.

After you’ve had a taste of New Orleans, I hope you will also join us to head to the world of the Southwest in Sam Shepard’s Fool for Love.

Vieux Carré and Fool for Love run in repertory October 21–31 in Hastings Studio Theater at 77 Geary Street, 6th Floor. For more information and to purchase tickets, please click here.

Taking "The Leap"

info@act-sf.org (American Conservatory Theater) — Thu, 15 Oct 2009 22:33:00 +0000

posted by Anthony Fusco, A.C.T. Core Acting Company member

One of the challenges for artists working within institutions (no, not those kinds of “institutions”) is to be creative, imaginative, and even occasionally inspired . . . on a schedule. We here at A.C.T. are continually churning out work, from the mainstage to the classroom, and it all has to happen on time and on budget. Sometimes we capture lightning in a bottle; sometimes we get singed. Usually our plays are ripe for an audience at just the right moment, but sometimes we have an opening night because, well, that’s what it says on the calendar.

So how do we ensure that we’re always working at our best? How do we foster an atmosphere of continual creativity and invention, so that when those opening nights arrive we will be ready for them? Trying to find new answers to those old questions has been the focus of a lot of our energy lately, and has involved efforts ranging from informal hallway conversations to company-wide meetings, surveys, interviews, and focus groups. And it all got kicked off this year in a fantastically inspiring way:

“The Leap.”

This year we began the 2009–10 academic year with an experiment: students from all three years of the Master of Fine Arts Program gathered with faculty, core acting company artists, Conservatory Director Melissa Smith, and Artistic Director Carey Perloff in a two-day exercise in creativity and collaboration. We warmed up together, taught and learned from each other, and made theater with each other all over the building at our administrative offices and rehearsal spaces at 30 Grant Avenue. On the first day, three groups of students and two of faculty/staff were given three hours to create short pieces of theater based on poems drawn out of a hat. It was a matter of “Here’s your poem. Go!”

We DEVOURED those poems, deciphering the ambiguities, pondering the depths of the imagery, wrestling with the same questions we always do—How should it sound? How should it look? What’s the author really trying to say and how can we best serve that? How do we decide what works and what doesn’t? How do we respect everyone’s experience yet attain a unified whole?—trying idea after idea until a form began to take shape. “My” group finally settled on an abstraction of the poem’s main ideas, using choreography, choral speaking, even water swishing around in a wastebasket just for the sound of it. I haven’t been as nervous or excited about a performance in years! Other groups performed in almost total darkness, made wild music with their bodies and voices, created hilarious skits worthy of Saturday Night Live—it was an evening of total raucous inspiration and mutual admiration that left us all exhausted and exhilarated.

The next day the process repeated but with mixed student/faculty groups—not part of the original plan, but the best idea of all—creating pieces based on a short story by Jorge Luis Borges, and that’s when things really got interesting. The story seemed to demand the impossible: set in a foreign country and taking place over decades, the characters all male, with elements including comets, trains, the countryside, and a deadly knife fight. But no time to worry about that! Students, company members, and faculty worked together as equals, each group being responsible for one fifth of the whole story, with the students’ inspirational abandon and great sense of play enlivening and being given enhanced expression by the older artists’ concepts of form and clarity. To be honest, in my group the “teachers” learned a few lessons in collaboration from our “students.” I was perhaps proudest of the fact that in my group each member’s most personal response to the text got included in the final result . . . even though at first they might have seemed not to mesh at all. As one student observed, “I couldn’t have thought that up, but we did.” Although it wasn’t part of the original plan either, the pieces when presented took place all over the building, in the Hastings Studio, in classrooms, in a hallway, and even out on a balcony. We dashed from place to place, eager to see how each group would handle the story we already knew. The interpretations were really varied and inventive, using all the elements of stagecraft available to us—sound/silence, motion/stillness, voice/body, words/music—in ways that often made us literally gasp with delight. It reminded me all over again of the reason we do classical theater in the first place: it is thrilling to see something you think you already know, reimagined for this very moment by creative artists. And it proved once and for all that it IS possible to create on a deadline, under pressure, if everyone is willing to set aside their usual “roles” and work in a spirit of mutual loving commitment to the art of theater.

Now as we move forward into the rest of the school year and the mainstage season, I hope we can find a way to keep the spirit of “The Leap” alive, every working day.

A.C.T. core acting company members Anthony Fusco and René Augesen
in last season’s Edward Albee’s At Home at the Zoo.

You Know What I Did Last Summer . . . ? Part 3

info@act-sf.org (American Conservatory Theater) — Fri, 09 Oct 2009 18:23:00 +0000

posted by Dan Rubin, A.C.T. Publications & Literary Associate

Please join me in welcoming the Master of Fine Arts Program class of 2012. In this third of three posts about what our students did this past summer, we offer you a first glimpse into the lives of the actors who will be spending the next three years with us.

Matt Bradley spent a month in Atlanta, Georgia, on his knees in The Last Days of Judas Iscariot and doing his best Adam Sandler in The Wedding Singer (the musical). He watched a lot of theater, read many books, spent a week in Sun Valley, Idaho, and, finally, moved into a little studio apartment on Pine and Hyde.

Alex Crowther: “My summer was busy getting ready for the big move to San Francisco. It was a mix of good (the excitement of meeting my new classmates and learning more about what the next three years have in store), bad (the never-ending visa applications, government assistance applications, and health care coverage applications), and sad (saying goodbye to family and friends). I had the chance to play A Midsummer Night’s Dream’s Demetrius in Brampton, Ontario, with a fun and friendly cast. The big highlight though: seeing a rehearsal of Phèdre [directed by A.C.T. Artistic Director Carey Perloff] at the Stratford Shakespeare Festival, a chance to watch my favorite Canadian actors in the process of creating their roles. I can’t wait for them to arrive in the new year!”

Christina Elmore: “This summer was simple and mostly relaxing. After graduating from college in June, I drove from Boston to California on a six-day road trip. I then headed back that way and had the pleasure of spending two months in Chicago living with my sister and working high-end retail with my cousins. In between folding and the cash wrap, I saw some great shows, enjoyed the beach, read plays, and reconnected with friends. Once back at home in Sacramento, I did a workshop at a local theater, hunted for an apartment in the city, and helped my family move and am now gearing up for the next three years.”

Ben Kahre: “This summer I moved to San Francisco from Evansville, IN, and prepared my apartment as well as myself for the upcoming year. While here in the city, I had the opportunity to volunteer as an audition reader for Magic Theatre during a couple of their Equity auditions. I met most of the artistic and management staff of the Magic, as well as many of the working Bay Area actors. It was a fantastic experience, and I look forward to being on the opposite side of the table next summer.”

Jessica Kitchens spent the first part of the summer taking over the role of Mary for an extended run of Theresa Rebeck’s Mauritius at Magic Theatre. She then spent July relaxing, working, and saving up money for a trip to Turkey to visit friends who live there. Most of her time there was spent in Istanbul, but she also traveled south to visit Olympos, a beach town on the Mediterranean Sea, where she mostly read plays and soaked up the sun. Upon her return to the States, she flew to Nashville to hang out with her family—the perfect end to the summer.

Maggie Rastetter spent the first half of the summer on a cross-country road trip, hiking through national parks and cavorting through deserts. Highlights included herding cattle with a four-wheeler, running across a moose, coming down with food poisoning in the middle of a Yosemite snowstorm, and nearly getting stranded in Death Valley. She moved to San Francisco in mid July and is steadily adjusting to big city life with the rest of the M.F.A. 8.

Courtney Thomas: “Let’s see . . . How I spent my summer vacation? The morning after graduating from Howard University in Washington, D.C., I packed up all my stuff and flew home to the Bay Area. Sleeping in and reading plays was going magnificently until I received a call from The Studio Theatre in Washington, D.C., offering me my first understudy role: as Canary Mary in Fucking A, by Suzan-Lori Parks. AWESOME! That was a Thursday—I was on the phone Friday making living arrangements, and in the airport Saturday, Sunday, and Monday trying to make it to the first rehearsal on Tuesday. I live for that kind of excitement! I lived in the basement apartment of my former Howard University professor and babysat her absolutely adorable kids, Tashi (four) and Juney (two), all summer. I’ve been back home for about two weeks now, and I’m still looking for the perfect apartment in Nob Hill, getting to know my amazing classmates (love at first sight!), and trying so hard to brace myself for what’s to come in the next three years and on. Ready or not—here I come!”