Does Anyone Remember Michael Cristofer’s The Shadow Box?

The Columbia Community Players were snowed out the first weekend of their production of Michael Cristofer’s The Shadow Box in the early eighties, and this was probably a good thing since I was so exhausted from rehearsing every night after working all day. But during the second weekend, after our very last performance, something unforgettable happened.

Laurence Bory, who later became one of my directing mentors, had boldy cast me as Agnes, the daughter of a dying woman, in an intense play about three terminally ill patients set in a hospice. I hadn’t a lick of acting experience, only an expressive intelligence and an experienced director with the confidence to guide me to a respectable performance. An odd place to start a lightweight perhaps, but this one delivered me to a lifelong passion as no light comedy could have.

It wasn’t the thrill of performing or the strokes or even the terrific new friends who were so much fun to work with  – it was a single person who spoke to me once in my lifetime for a very brief moment who did it.

Want to imagine a scary audience? Think about performing your first show in a raw play about death to a hospice network – that final Sunday matinee performance had sold out to a group from Howard County and I was as terrified as I have ever been.

The show went very well. My character took over when the lights came up and (as always) I forgot who was in the audience. But after the curtain call and all the accolades, slipping away from the after-show reception to take one last look from the audience’s perspective at the stage in solitude wasn't going to happen. Emotionally and physically exhausted (community theater is very hard work), I had absolutely no plans to spend my life loving this art form, and wanted to say farewell to the set in a private moment in my own way.

But, a nice-looking man from the audience (he looked a little older than me but not by very much) followed me.

 “I saw from the program that this was your acting debut. Is that really true?”

 “Yes. This is my first show.”

 “How did you do it? Have you lived this experience? Did you lose someone close to you?”

 “No. I did nurse my mother once when she was very sick, but the miracle happened and she recovered.”

 “Well, the miracle didn’t happen for me. My mother died a few months ago and you expressed every emotion I’ve struggled with since beautifully. Thank you. It helps.”

I realized in the second that our liquid eyes met while thanking him for coming to the show that this art is more important than any of the players who flock to bask in the stage lights. What started with a playwright’s words and morphed through layers of the interpretations of diverse egos really meant something to this one person. And over the past thirty years, at least one person has always been out there somewhere and one person has always been enough.

Although The Shadow Box is currently out of print, it won a Pulitzer Prize and a Tony Award for the Broadway production in 1977. The screenplay, directed by Paul Newman, received a Golden Globe Award and was nominated for an Emmy. Cristofer’s done a lot of acting in his own right and directed some big names in film since. See www.imdb.com/name/nm0188165/ if you’re curious.

For me, theater isn’t so much about acting or directing anymore as it is really about audience. It’s about life, both real and imagined. And for now, it’s about watching both.

Valentines and Time

A couple of weeks ago, a local singer/songwriter offered me a tiny glimpse of music production, which I know absolutely nothing about. I sat in Georgie  Jessup’s living room as she explained a bit about audio “diamonds,” which I didn’t quite grasp (I will look into that further very soon), mostly because I was justifiably distracted and then blown away listening to what amounted to a private performance.

I’ve heard Jessup perform with her band locally, purchased some of her music (you can buy it at CD Baby and iTunes), and spent some time interviewing her. I wasn’t surprised when she played a “before” recording of herself at the keyboard singing her newest song. I was surprised when she played the finished track (without vocals) and sang it live about three feet from me, but that didn’t stop me from closing my eyes and letting my face melt.

Who’s Going to Be My Valentine is Jessup’s newest release. You can hear it in this video produced by her friend, Bonnie Schupp. It will appear on Jessup’s as yet nameless next album that is about halfway into production.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LtDnEyUwvv0

Almost a decade ago, Jessup married her valentine on February 14^th at the courthouse in Annapolis. That’s not particularly unusual (my husband and I eloped on Valentine's Day 32 years ago), but sadly for Jessup, the marriage did not survive.

Jessup is transgender, and although she never claimed to be a man during the ceremony, she passed as one. Born male, she had gender transformation surgery and was already legally a woman before she married Angie. When Jessup's gender status was discovered about a year after the ceremony, "Marrying Judge" Robert P. Duckett of Anne Arundel County declared it invalid, as if it had never happened. But for a while, Jessup and Angie lived as the first same-sex married couple in Maryland. Unfortunately, their out-of-time relationship as lovers did not last.

Now, nine years later, the Baltimore Sun reports that only one more senate vote is needed to pass same-sex marriage legislation in Maryland.

My Valentine

My valentine and I skipped out of town over the weekend to celebrate our wedding anniversary at the Battlefield Bed and Breakfast Inn in Gettysburg. Pondering how real events inspire art, I couldn’t help but remember another authentic Civil War era building (albeit not as beautiful as this one) where the Columbia Community Players staged a reading of Stephen Vincent Benet's poem, John Brown’s Body, as part of the Howard County Sesquicentennial Arts Celebration in 2001. I was supposed to direct that difficult piece but wisely handed the responsibility off to a close theater friend and mentor, Charles Maloney (a Civil War buff and Viet Nam war veteran). So, I was able to focus instead on producing the event and performing in the show. Now that one of my sons has been to war, I feel an even deeper appreciation for this very poignant theater memory. That story will be coming soon.

Closer to the Edge

I’ve only been to the Silver Spring Stage twice and once was a very long time ago, but its production of Blackbird by contemporary Scottish playwright David Harrower last month caught my interest. The show impressed me, and in spite of a gentleman snoring in the row behind me (how in the world could anyone sleep through such a gripping story?), the rest of the audience appeared captured by the performance. The show certainly wasn’t perfect (when is live theater ever perfect?), but impressive enough that I am interested in seeing more. This theater’s following appears to really appreciate edgy material, as do I, and it’s worth going out of my neighborhood to find it. My review follows. (I cut the last paragraph since the show has closed.)

Broken Wings at Silver Spring Stage

Staging an intense contemporary drama about child molestation poses considerable hazards for a community theater. The harsh subject matter demands that the cast, director, and audience tackle disturbing topics head on. In a very small cast, the actors must stretch their memories and concentration skills well beyond the usual.

Silver Spring Stage bravely confronts enormous challenges in its rendition of Scottish playwright David Harrower’s Blackbird, directed by Craig Allen Mummey. The play, which premiered in Scotland in 2005, runs without intermissions through the end of January.

Blackbird is intended to be uncomfortable to watch. The language is so coarse at times that even the actors seem uneasy. But the audience finds its rewards as Mummey competently guides his cast through a series of stark transitions that probe the boundaries between passion and perversion and love and hate. Although his blocking may be a little obvious in spots, the physical scenes work well enough.

Harrower’s tale is a hypothetical reckoning between Una (a disturbed young woman played by Lenora Spahn) and Ray (her childhood molester played by Ted Culler). The plays opens when Una abruptly appears at Ray’s workplace fifteen years after the crime. He is out of prison and building a new life. She has never healed.  The script is noticeably more powerful than the Silver Spring Stage production of Blackbird, but it is always gratifying to see a community theater reach.

Spahn steps up to create many of the play’s best moments. Una appears as rigidly fractured as the half-completed sentences and raw language that make her dialogue darkly poetic. Harrower leaves it to the audience to decide whether it was the molestation and Ray’s abandonment or enduring the aftermath, which she describes in brutal detail, that has broken her.

Culler is less believable as Ray. Shocked to find the 27-year-old Una confronting him when he planned never to see her again, Ray ushers her into the deserted lunchroom where overflowing trashcans symbolize the messes people make of their lives. Perhaps because Culler looks older than his character and reminds one of an upstanding high school principal, or perhaps because Ray and Una make too little eye contact, the expected sexual tension doesn’t build as the pair retrace the events that led to their disastrous “affair.” 

Ray protests that he is not a serial pedophile, that he had inappropriately but sincerely loved the 12-year-old Una, and that he has found redemption. She vacillates between wanting to hurt Ray and trying to rekindle their relationship. “Am I too old?” she snipes.


Both actors do an admirable job of handling so many lines. If they give the impression of acting more at than with each other at times, and if the occasional comic relief falls flat due to inconsistent timing, Spahn and Culler still manage to keep their audience focused. Culler’s greatest strength lies in his reactions and audience members will learn the most about Ray by watching those closely.

The script is based loosely on the true story of Toby Studebaker, a middle-aged U.S. Marine who seduced a prepubescent British girl over the Internet and disappeared with her for five days in the summer of 2003. Jailed for child molestation and related charges first in Britain and again in the United States, Studebaker is credited with prodding Scotland to outlaw the internet grooming of children.
 

Commissioned by the Edinburgh International Festival in 2005, Blackbird received the 2006 Critics’ Award for Theatre in Scotland for Best New Play and the 2007 Laurence Olivier Award for Best New Play.

The production crew includes Mummey as Set Designer, Chris Curtis as Lighting Designer, Kevin Garrett as Sound Designer, and Brian Dettling as Combat Consultant. Stage Manager Laura Rogers appears onstage briefly as Girl in the surprise ending. 

Laurel Mill Playhouse Gala Awards

The Laurel Mill Playhouse almost burst its seams Sunday evening. Attendance was by invitation only at the 2011 Awards Gala at 508 Main Street in Laurel, MD, where almost 80 guests were up for awards. I attended the gala for the first time last year, and once again, I was impressed with what the playhouse has come to mean to its Laurel community.

Set for the upcoming production of The Man Who Came to Dinner, the stage offered the illusion of convening in a charming and private drawing room. The “audience” sat across from the folks onstage:  Marv and Mo Rogers, Dan Staicer, and Mary Dodd. Marv serves as President of the Laurel Mill Playhouse and Mo is the Public Liaison officer. Dan often mc’s playhouse events and Mary supports every show. It was a treat to see the “fabulous four” dressed in semi-formal attire, especially Marv. Usually decked out in blue jeans and wielding maintenance tools, he looked quite sophisticated in a tux. They all looked great, but it’s not so unusual to see the other three dressed to the nines.

In between some pretty impressive entertainment (pulled from the guest list of actors, singers, directors, tech folks, and supporters), Mo called each person or family onto the stage to thank them for their unique contributions to the playhouse’s success. Mary helped hand out the trophies and personalized certificates.

Laurel Mill Playhouse is one of the few non-profit theaters to own its stage, which contributes to a homey atmosphere. After opening on Main Street in the spring of 2003, the theater wavered painfully for several years. Two conflicting boards of directors fought for control of the newly renovated performance space. One side even initiated litigation but that was eventually withdrawn.

As gratifying as it is to see community theaters reach to explore contemporary works, Laurel Mill Playhouse stumbled hard artistically while attempting Durang’s Betty’s Summer Vacation in its first year. Poorly interpreted (at least in my opinion), the content also didn’t suit the Main Street audience. Several folks walked out during a performance and reviews were disparaging.

The summer youth productions have been a staple since the playhouse doors first opened. But in 2005, two adults from the theater were arrested for disorderly conduct outside a performance of Music Man, Jr., further damaging the theater’s reputation.

Observing the folks who came to the gala on Sunday evening, it is obvious that the playhouse has grown into a very different niche.

Not that the theater is prudish by any means, but recent shows reflect the values of the people running it and the audiences who have become loyal. Kaufman and Hart’s The American Way (a patriotic musical) proved wildly successful last fall, as did the youth’s production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream.

And it’s not that Laurel Mill Playhouse avoids mature contemporary themes (Rent opens in May); it’s just unlikely that audiences will ever again be subjected to characters carrying around dismembered private body parts (as in Betty’s Summer Vacation). Musicals and plays with proven appeal to broader audiences appear to be what works in this town. And the folks running the theater now are as steady as rocks.

When I interviewed Marv a few months ago to get his story on building the playhouse (yes, literally), one of the things he told me was that watching the youth perform was his biggest thrill. As Jocelyn Knasik (one of the teen performers at the gala) sang a solo, I was struck by how paternally proud Marv looked. Almost as proud as Musical Director Stu Knasik (Jocelyn’s father), who also sang at the gala.

The strong sense of extended family that permeated the evening is telling. The colloquial charm of Laurel Mill Playhouse and the diversity of the talent performing there is refreshing when you consider how quickly some critics jump to mock mainstream performers. But this group appears to know what its audiences and supporters want. And they’re doing it well.

Run entirely by volunteers, Laurel Mill Playhouse has come a very long way.

For many young actors preparing to leave home for college next fall, the evening tasted bittersweet. For Doug Silverman and Irene Patton, two senior citizens who performed a beautiful staged reading of Gurney’s Love Letters last fall, it was a chance to socialize with many of their friends. Everyone seemed touched by the graciousness exuded by Mo, who began organizing the annual galas to thank all playhouse volunteers four years ago. And everyone went home with an award.

There was love of theater, of friends and family, and of life in the air.

Although they were all very good, one of the evening’s most impressive performers, Ed Higgins (aka Captain Hook) sang excerpts from Robinson’s Peter Pan, The Musical.

He is one to watch going into the future.