We’ve bought into the idea that education is about training and ‘success’, defined monetarily, rather than learning to think critically and to challenge. We should not forget that the true purpose of education is to make minds, not careers. A culture that does not grasp the vital interplay between morality and power, which mistakes management techniques for wisdom, which fails to understand that the measure of a civilization is its compassion, not its speed or ability to consume, condemns itself to death.

Chris Hedges, Empire of Illusion: The End of Literacy and the Triumph of Spectacle

The Turf-War That Killed Los Angeles Theater

Scouring the various articles, blogs and financial reports of regional theaters around the country brings an important question to the forefront regarding the health of theater in America: Can adjacent theaters promote each others’ work without causing negative competition for themselves in the process?

Most of the discussion consists of a generally dry and uninteresting set of metrics that ultimately boils down to a simple fact: the live theater is no longer commercially viable in its current state of supply/demand.  If you’d like to digest some of those statistical circumstances, here are some interesting articles that go over the details:

I, however, have no interest in re-hashing the numbers and continuing discourse about a model that no longer operates.  Instead, let us go back to the impetus of storytelling in the first place: the need to commune and communicate.  To use a personal anecdote, when VanguardRep began promoting our outdoor summer Shakespeare Festival, it became clear that a few of the nearby regional theaters were concerned that we would take away from their audiences (as they were hanging onto their subscription base by a thread as it was, doing their best to cover their ever-increasing overhead of a permanent space in a major metropolitan area).  As understandable as the anxiety of competition is in a super-saturated market, I couldn’t help but think: isn’t it a question of demand, rather than supply?  In a collaborative art like the live theater—which thrives on a personal connection with audience and fellow artists alike—shouldn’t our community not only be as tight as humanly possible, but also support each other during the most dire circumstances?  Theater is incestuous and, if we’re being honest, a microcosm of itself in many ways, so where’s the support? 

There are huge challenges facing theater in the United States.  Our international reputation is poor.  The government support isn’t enough to expand rehearsal processes and development, the economic models are archaic and the most powerful practitioners are not in touch with social media or the current pace of consumerism.  However.  We need the wisdom and experience of those running the American Theater for the last 40 years in order to do the best work.  And they need to support the idealistic, passionate, communal and technologically savvy generation of theater artists rising and desperately needing the resources to change the models.  The younger generation wants to do new work.  The new generation wants to figure out how to use technology to connect the audience and bring them back to a live, performer/audience experience.  The new generation wants to feel like the generations who paved the way want them around.

So…next time a young theater company shows up doing interesting, unique and innovative work—perhaps promoting them and genuinely wishing for their success will aid them in bringing in new audiences to the theater community at large.  And, when that happens, we might be able to have a whole new discussion about how to cultivate a newly invigorated demand and not worry so much about the supply.

Los Angeles doesn’t know what to do as a theater community yet.  Let’s make it cool to go to the theater by sending the audiences to each others plays.  Yes, it might dent the numbers at first, but eventually people might remember the fact that it’s an unforgettable night of entertainment to experience what the live theater has to offer when it’s at its best.

Treating The Treatment with Respect

A couple of weeks ago, I had the privilege of becoming engrossed with one of the year’s finest new works, The Treatment, by Richard Alger and Tina Kronis.  This adaptation of Chekhov’s beloved short story Ward 6 is a genuinely elegant mash-up of movement, sound and narrative.  As VanguardRep strives to create new work for a new audience and a new economic structure, we are always looking to models for a functional, internationally tour-able, yet fully-realized production.  The Treatment is an ideal of the American Theater.  An important work.  A work that should and could represent this country’s artistic sensibilities abroad.  Check back to see news of future productions and continued discourse with the production’s creators Richard and Tina in the very near future here at The Ritual.  And here’s to seeing this kind of work promoted with the same enthusiasm and visibility of regional offerings of lesser quality, risk or impact.  We will also be using The Treatment to begin a discourse of what the Los Angeles theater has to offer the nation and the international community in the future.  Stay tuned.

Angelenos in America

As theater artists in Los Angeles complain about the lack of support and structure, Mr. Davidson suggests that there is untapped audience resources in the City of Angels.  And while a resurgence is certainly taking place, it puts forward a question of “how?”  Willing audiences, unwilling drivers.  No walking traffic.  How does the next generation of theater artists create an environment conducive to the necessary audience support to change the perception of the Los Angeles theater community permanently?

Pierre Corneille is all about love. Al Green is also all about love.

Love and Happiness

The profundity and power of love has permeated storytelling throughout history.  Whilst working on Tony Kushner’s adaptation of Pierre Corneille’s The Illusion, this fact became present and tangible in a way I hadn’t experienced during a rehearsal process.  So many potent words stick out about the intensity and substance of love during the play, but none so much as the main character’s monologue nearing the end:

Love, which seems the realest thing, is really nothing at all; a simple gray rock is a thousand times more tangible than love is; and the earth is such a rock, and love only a breeze that dreams over its surface, weightless and traceless. And yet love’s more mineral, more dense, more veined with gold and corrupted with lead, more bitter and more weighty than the earth’s profoundest matter.  Love is a sea of desire stretched between shores—only the shores are real, but how much more compelling is the sea?

Corneille’s words not only identify the struggle with love as a reality, but also our nature to be more compelled by its forces than any other.  Reverend Al Green also addresses the issue on one of my absolute favorite tracks of his, Love and Happiness:

Love will make you do right.  Love will make you do wrong.  Make you come home early.  Make you stay out all night long.  The power of love.

Seems a tired subject, but I think the character Alcandre puts it best when talking about the relationship between storytelling and love:

The art of illusion is the art of love, and the art of love is the blood-red heart of the world.  At times I think there is nothing else.

I think the Reverend would agree.