Berkeley Rep Blog
Category archive: Backstage buzz
Episode Two -- In Which We Inform the General Public
posted by Stacy Ross on Tue, Jan 27, 2009
in Backstage buzz
so yes, vibrators and victorians co-existed
you're crowding mine...)
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Episode One -- Blogging Me, Blogging You...
posted by Stacy Ross on Wed, Jan 14, 2009
in Backstage buzz
whoever: what're you working on next?
me: The vibrator play --
whoever: (giggling) that's a good one
me: yeah, it IS good one -- In the Next Room or the vibrator play...
whoever: oh, wait, really? i mean...(swallowing, clearing throat, usually looking downward)
huh. is that uh, new?
me: yeah, it's the new one by Sarah Ruhl....it's really cool
whoever: oh, great. that's good. huh. ...(reddening) is it really *about* vibrators?
me: well, there are vibrators in it...it's not really *about* vibrators...
whoever: can't wait to see *that* one (giggling again)...heh heh...
(stopping cold) hey, can you get me comps?
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The Wonderful Bag
posted by Allen Gilmore on Wed, Dec 24, 2008
in Backstage buzz
Hey there, blog enthusiasts--
I'm Allen and I play a few roles in The Arabian Nights, which is playing until Jan 18 at Berkeley Rep's Thrust Stage.
I've been wondering what to write about that may bring you further into our experience as actors performing the show. Finally however, one subject has stood towering over the rest: THE BAG.
If you've seen the show, you know that "The Wonderful Bag" is an improvisation performed by two different members of the ensemble at each show. It is a source of fear and glory for us. A little piece of theatrical derring-do that can send an audience--and us, the actors--into throes of ecstacy or leave both groups scratching our heads and wondering, "What was that?" Well, that's what our adaptor-director, Mary Zimmerman, knew it would be, and so we, the acting ensemble, are being true to her vision--to a point.
Mary intended that all of us at one time or another find ourselves in the position of needing to save ourselves with a story before a very judgmental listener, much like Scheherezade does in front of the king, Sharyar, who wishes to kill her. We must pull a story (a list) out of our minds at an instant in front of our live audience and hope it is something that may please, distract, and/or otherwise engage them. The two improvisers for "the wonderful bag" are selected at random every night--the actor telling the tale of the bag throws it into the air, and the two people it lands closest to are the ones recruited.
The cast of The Arabian Nights watches Evan Zes (standing, at left)
defends the contents of his magic bag. At right, Ramiz Monsef prepares for his turn.
(photo courtesy of kevinberne.com)
Now, none of us are seasoned improv artists like you may have seen on comic improv shows on TV. In fact, all of us find the prospect of doing this rather terrifying. But it's part of the show, so we dive in and sink or swim. I personally know about the swimming and the sinking, having done both. When your little improvised list of absurd items in the bag goes well, as one fellow castmate put it, you are on the most euphoric high for the rest of the evening. But then it's over and you must perform the improv again soon and pray that you don't bomb, and yet you are faced with equaling or topping your own prior success.
When you bomb, it's a lonely feeling in the dressing room. People are very kind but you know you dropped the ball, putting that particular performance somewhat at risk and injuring your pride all at once--in public. For this reason, some of us prefer not to do The Bag very often, though we have all (who are eligible to do it) done it at one time or other and all of us have most often met with success. In fact, some of our finest bags have been performed by members who rarely do it. Meanwhile, practice does make perfect and those who do The Bag more often find it easier to do and are less daunted by the prospect. They get out there with a sense of ease and purpose and sometimes they can even feel eager to do the improv. These "bag veterans" can be absolutely brilliant. If you've seen them at work, then you know what I mean.
Having failed at The Bag at least once myself, I can tell you that's a moment unlike any other. The audience simply isn't with you. They do not respond as you make your list, or you may go down a subject path that is a turn-off to them. You can hear the "Ooooo's" and "Ohhhh's" and you know you need to turn around fast and find something that brings them back. Or you may simply need to end your list and hope the other performer has better luck. Or perhaps "The Kadi" will put you out of your misery by ending the improv for you. A lot of savvy goes into doing The Bag, particularly with a less responsive audience. We are constantly listening to the crowd's reactions during the show and making decisions based on their prior responses. With a less vocal audience, the bagger already knows that he or she may have to be a sacrificial lamb and "take one for the team" when the bag is tossed into the air and lands at her or his feet.
There are a couple of ways we do The Bag. Mary Z. may not like one of these because it violates slightly the idea of The Bag. Some of us have ideas already in mind that we hope to be calm enough to recall and explore under the pressure of performance. But others do a more 'pure bag' which is actually having no idea what you are going to say or do when you rise to begin your list of absurdities found in the bag. I think Mary would prefer this method, but it proves too scary to many of the most veteran bag improvisers. Also, we may sometimes "reference" or "steal" an idea from a prior bag improv of our own or someone else's. Mary would like each bag to be completely new, but some ideas are so rich and full of potential that some of us can't help giving them more exploration. Finally, The Bag should be a list of items found in the bag. We have had many absolutely brilliant, hysterically funny bag improvs that have more or less failed this task. Because we (may) make little explanations of certain items as we list them, some of us have found the explanations more engaging than the listing and tend to veer off into story-telling that finally verges on stand-up comedy. Audiences love this when it's well done, and it's been expertly done at some performances. This however, more than anything, would be a source of frustration to our director regarding The Bag. We have even met together recently to get back on track as an ensemble with The Bag and to ensure that future bags are to the director's specifications, so that future baggers feel safe and supported when they delve into the wacky mysteries of The Bag.
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Anatomy of a show poster: The Arabian Nights
posted by Cheshire Isaacs on Mon, Nov 24, 2008
in Backstage buzz
Sometimes the design for a show poster comes together very quickly: we have an idea, it gets approved, and the finished image is completed within days. Other times, however, the process can take weeks, such as was the case for The Arabian Nights. Here's how we arrived at the final image.
Anytime I begin a design, it's at least two months before the show goes into previews. Frequently, all I have to go on is the script and a conversation with the director, who may or may not have concrete ideas about how he or she is going to approach the play. The lighting, scenic, and costume designs are usually still being finalized. The play is mostly cast by that time, but the actors aren't necessarily local. On top of all that, even if the director can communicate a strong vision for the show, it may not translate into a strong vision for the poster, which needs to grab your attention and get you to investigate further. The poster probably won't sell any tickets on its own, but it should get you to look at our website or call us up.
With this show, we had a couple of additional factors from the start: the title and the writer/director, Mary Zimmerman. Anytime I design a poster for a show with a recognizable name, such as The Arabian Nights, I have a certain flexibility with the logo of the show. I can play with the legibility of the words a bit, because the viewer will go along with me more easily.
The title can also be a liability; one can easily fall into a cliché and rely on a typeface that evokes Arabic writing, such as Disney's Aladdin.
I wanted to go a different direction and do my own lettering. I looked up antique Islamic/Arabic calligraphy and found square Kufic script, which originated around the time of the earliest incarnations of the 1,001 Nights stories. I decided to riff off that look and came up with this:
Did I say I had leeway to make a logo that's hard to read? Not that much leeway. Fortunately, once I did lowercase letters rather than capitals, people felt the title was much more legible:
Still, people felt that the logo was a little cold. I had reactions from people saying they thought the letters looked futuristic, mazelike, hip-hoppish, and even like this Jesus logo, apparently a common piece of folk art I'd never seen before. It wasn't important to me that people get the Kufic reference; I just like having the deeper layer. But I was happy to hear that one of our staff members, someone who spent many years in Saudi Arabia, got the reference right away.
Anyway, I connected it a little more to the subject matter by giving it a bit of ornamentation. Everyone was happy, and I was done:
Now it was on to the poster image. After reading the script, I decided that rather than showing a scene from any particular story in the show, I wanted to highlight Scheherezade and the power of storytelling itself. (A brief synopsis of the play, in case you don't know the story: Scheherezade is a young queen who keeps her husband from murdering her by telling intricate, cliffhanging stories for 1,001 nights.)
This is the draft I came up with. I had decided I wanted a seductive image, focusing on Scheherezade but also showing how entrancing her stories could be. The image here is just a stock photo I found on iStockPhoto that captured the characters in the pose I envisioned; I planned to shoot my own models in that pose, but since the actors playing those roles weren't yet in town, I thought I might use staff members. Because the show featured a multicultural cast, I felt I had a fair amount of flexibility in my casting.
I never got that far -- the draft was rejected. It didn't communicate the humor of the play. Furthermore, it was, if anything, too sexy; it should show off her creativity rather than her sex appeal.
So I tried some different approaches, seen below. First I tried a silhouette of Scheherezade (left) and an illustrated adaptation of the original stock photo (middle). I added a bit of playfulness with her smile and all the bright moons issuing forth from her mouth, symbolizing the stories. I went with a style reminiscent of local design star Michael Schwab, who did all those fantastic images for the Golden Gate National Recreation Area.
Good news: people liked the style. Bad news: it still focused too much on Scheherezade. It was more about the stories, not her. (The rejection was fine -- I hated the middle one myself, and the one on the left just looked too 70s for me.)
So I went back to the script and pulled out another image, one of finger cymbals, which would be struck one time each new story begins in the show. I did it once again in that faux-Schwab style. I was pretty happy with that version.
However, that too was rejected. By now the director and cast had arrived, and we were a day or two away from missing the deadline for the first use of the image. Surprisingly, after all the different ideas, I was asked to go back to the first draft and reshoot it now that we actually had the actors in town. We already had a press photo shoot planned with those actors, so I hijacked that shoot, which ended up doing double duty. Finally I had an approved image (photo courtesy of kevinberne.com) and logo (and I didn't even end up cribbing Michael Schwab!):
It was a very long and occasionally frustrating process, but in the end I'm very happy with the result and am glad to have contributed to such a fantastic show. The part I liked best? Watching the performance on opening night and seeing the two characters end up in exactly this pose during one of the scenes. I think it's the only time I've seen one of my posters come to life on stage.
A coda: It's not all bad when a poster idea gets thrown out; what doesn't work for the poster might work perfectly well in the Berkeley Rep Magazine. I still loved my little moons from the rejected drafts, so I found a way to use them. Here's the first spread of the dramaturgy section:
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Yellow fever
posted by Shoresh Alaudini on Wed, Oct 8, 2008
in Backstage buzz
We've been doing this show for about a month now. I feel the one-month anniversary of Yellowjackets’ run is an appropriate date to post my thoughts on the blog.
It’s a hard job. Well, actually, with the cast and crew we have at times it feels almost effortless and frighteningly ephemeral – working six days a week to act like an obnoxious teenager? When are you ever gonna get paid to do that again? Really? I think I speak for the whole cast when I say this: hopefully our youthful good looks and general unorthodox charm will bring many more opportunities to indulge in onstage coming of age fantasies and self discovery.
Ben Freeman and me, pretending to be kids again.
(photo courtesy of kevinberne.com)
Speaking just for myself, as the first acting gig I’ve ever been a part of at a major theatre, I hope to relive at least the general state of mind that comes with being in a high school play: that I'm always right, I'm constantly misunderstood, and that I am the most important and knowledgeable entity in my immediate environment. It's very empowering. Because if I don’t feel that way, why would anybody watching give a shit about me?
As an actor it is this attitude that must come across to the viewer, whether they realize it or not, whether it is displayed overtly or internalized, to allow the range of introspective reflection, or outright youthful audacity, or any expressed emotion between those two extremes on a spectrum that in itself is shouting for attention. Because all these different marks on the line in a way represent varying shades and colors that exist--and for that reason alone scream--to be seen, noticed, loved, appreciated, and cared for.
And so its funny that we’re doing a play called Yellowjackets about Berkeley High School. Yellowjackets--the insects--see so many colors, because of how their eyes function. And really, so do people. And yet we're able to categorize a multitude of hues into a system called race, which in itself is handicapped and requires the crutches of ethnicity and nationality to extend its excuse of nihilistic existence. On its own, racism is fundamentally too limited as an applied theory and is contributing to the mental retardation of humankind. We are living in a state of evolution, constantly changing and adapting to our surroundings for the most savage, primal, complex, and beautiful mission we could have ever asked for: survival. Racism is here. We may have needed it for a second to help us become aware of our simultaneous differences and similarities, a process of individuation maybe.
But snakes shed scales naturally. As people we have the choice to hang on or let go of certain ideas, people, feelings. But we don’t always let go. And often we choose to grasp things that are detrimental to our health and livelihood, voluntarily holding ourselves back in life. We become blinded and fearful. Like we know the truth, but it isn’t what we are accustomed to. And racism could be looked at as a disease. But I would rather look at it as a joke. What would happen to comedy without racism? Well, I guess we’d always find something to laugh at.
I was disturbed by a commercial I saw recently. I can’t remember what company it was for, but it involved robot slapstick humor – oh yeah, I think it was for Gillette. How the two relate is beyond me. But I remember the robot got hit with something in the area that was supposed to be its groin, and it kind of keeled over and winced in robotic reverb to express pain. But I was like, it doesn’t really have a penis, where’s the humor in that? I don’t really want to expand on that subject because I wouldn’t know where to go and I’m not sure if analyzing all the nuances of humor would turn me into some sort of robot myself…who knows? All I know is racism, as a system that is deemed so concrete in this material world, is full of cracks and has never been able to label me correctly in any way. So I claim immunity and propose a subliminal seed for thought – “hue-man” (and I'm not taking credit for the word, just planting it). If you can’t see more colors than Black, Yellow, White, Red, or Brown when you look at my skin, then you got problems and I feel sorry for you.
We have eyes to see colors and a heartbeat to feel life, and I think a lot of us walk around without that knowledge, or even with it are so polluted with fear and outdated methods of perception that it's easy to get lost and confused and trapped by the limited faculties provided by those archaic idiots who implemented the paradigm in the first place and had no idea how fast and ever-changing the age of information is and how we must take responsibility for our own personal knowledge retention and classification. A discriminating mind is not a bad thing. It's good to be a sponge, but it seems like if you try and soak up everything at your fingertips in today’s world you’d become schizophrenic by nature. I only say this because it is how I feel, and it has been a recent conscious effort of mine to actively choose which information lines I wanna ride, because we have that freedom now. I want to know about these worlds, but there are so many now I have trouble remembering which one I’m standing on or in, where intellectual property is starting to block out the sun, and so-called reality television is the greatest fictional farce in entertainment history. But it’s cool. All that once was reality, in regards to media, is now masked in false Hollywood fervor, except that none of these humanoids get it and those who feel empty of self value and recognition are floating around rootless yet suffocating under caked layers of foundation just to reflect on something so called real…the so-called life…really I should just change the channel, better yet turn off the telly and open a book, but all these color dots are so much more stimulating than straight black and white text…
Back to racism… It is in all of us. We are all victims and perpetrators because of how we think, slaves to this system because of its ultimate control over our emotional triggers. It’s not the gun that kills people. It’s the racism! It’s like that movie Pleasantville, but because we see more than just black and white, we think we see more than just the black and the white. I'll say it again: because we see more than just black and white, we think we see more than just the black and the white. And until you are made to connect beyond resistance through difference and a patterned behavior that has pervaded itself through society and imposed dualities as the most constant truth, right or wrong, stop and go, on and off becomes our judgement and our third dimension, allowing us to actually flatten the depth around us. The world is supposed to get more beautiful everyday… or you are what you eat, or it is whatever you choose it to be – at least in terms of how you feel. The world. Empower yourself so you don’t have to feel like a sucker. Bluntly stated.
I was asked to comment on the actor/audience relationship. This turned into a bit of rant, but its all good -- the flexible nature of blogs, I guess. But really, all of the above is for the audience; to be able watch the material of Yellowjackets with an open mind and appreciation for everything on stage, not just those elements that appeal or call upon intrinsic affinities, but also those things that tug on a side of resistance, discomfort, and fear. When you step into a theatre, it’s like walking into somebody’s brain. Go ahead and judge, it is your right, but free yourself from that impulse and you gain a much more encompassing experience. It’s called awareness.
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Tales from the Greenroom...
posted by Craig Piaget on Tue, Sep 23, 2008
in Backstage buzz
So here we are, just about to begin our fourth week of performances, and while some of us in the cast are considering freebasing Vitamin-C to stave off colds and others are acting like our bangs and bruises don't hurt (the fence... oh, the fence...), everyone in general is a little tired but doing really well. We are constantly working on refining this show, and we've reached an exciting point. We know this play and these characters so well that we get the chance to really focus in on the tiny little details in order to flush more and more nuance out of this fantastically generous script. And the more we undertake this detail work, the more I realize how important rhythm is to this play.
When we first started working on this script, the first thing I noticed which made this play so unique was that the way Itamar suggests rhythm was immediately apparent. All upward inflections, a California high-schooler trademark, were marked with a "?". Every "um," "uh," and "well..." was written in, along with word repetitions and interruptions. When Guillem says, "What the fuck kind of name is Trevor?", Trevor's response is "Um. I don't know. Just. Uh. Normal? I guess?" This line alone paints a pretty vivid picture of who Trevor is and the rhythms of his speech, and feels so natural to say. (At left: Brian Rivera, as Guillem, asks Trevor about his name.)
What has been harder to grasp is the rhythm of the play as a whole. How do we make these short scenes flow into each other? How do we use the rhythm of the conversation to help move the scene to a completely different setting than the last? It has been really exciting to watch this play move from a series of interesting vignettes to a complete organism, and I feel that we have really made huge strides in completing the whole picture that Tony and Itamar were trying to create.
On a personal level, Trevor and Mr. Terrance have been a huge blast to play, and took two very different methods of attack to create. I knew, on a sort of intimate and private level, who Trevor was the moment I read the script. His struggle is so clear, and his sense of overwhelming helplessness is something that I remember vividly from middle and high school, and have since only managed to hide under layers of inappropriate jokes and Axe body spray.
Terrence, on the other hand, is a collage of observations and memories of teachers who are so lost in the joy of affecting their students that they have sort of lost touch with how much of an effect they are actually having. (At right: Mr. Terrence talks to his students.)
Through the whole process the audiences have been fascinating. One day they will be completely silent throughout the whole show, and another they will be laughing and "ooooo"-ing and buzzing as they leave. However, there is one audience that has stood out, not just from all the performances here at Berkeley Rep, but from any show I have ever been in.
The first student matinee was filled with 400 Berkeley High students, and it will forever be seared into the collective memory of this cast. They were yelling and screaming, interacting with the characters, telling them what to do, and calling them names. They laughed uproariously and cheered after what sometimes seemed like every single line.
Now, while performing the play felt like trying to play chess in the middle of a bullfight, it ended up being one of the most interesting, fun, and fulfilling performances for me so far. Everything was different... well, it HAD to be different, and everyone was trying new things and working so hard to get this story told. And it really seemed to affect a lot of these kids, who at the talkback after the show had some wonderful, intelligent and difficult questions. Plays often feel so inaccessible to young people, but there is something really special in this play that, whether or not they actually saw themselves in it, really got them thinking about the fantastically difficult questions raised by this play---as well as thinking about performance and how this can actually be a voice for newer generations, too. It was really inspiring.
I guess I'll wrap this up by asking everyone out there what they thought about the themes and what answers they have for the unanswerable questions in this play. Did you see yourself in some of these characters or did it take you back to high school? Did anything about it get you really angry or upset? How did the rhythms in this show help tell the story? I'd love to hear any thoughts you, our lovely audience, have about this exciting and difficult project.
(Photos courtesy of kevinberne.com)
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Opening night at Berkeley Rep
posted by Terence Keane on Wed, Sep 3, 2008
in Backstage buzz
It’s opening night here at Berkeley Rep – the first show in our new season. What better time to launch our blog? Except, of course, we’re all completely crazed getting ready for the show.
The electrics crew is trying to find out why a rogue strobe light won’t fire on cue. A carpenter is literally tending to a loose screw. And we’re watching the paint dry – from some last-minute touch-ups on the stage floor. Then Tony will hold a final rehearsal with the cast… and off we go!
The folks in our costume shop are putting away clothes that didn’t make it into the show. The development department is getting ready for our opening-night dinner, and the house manager is making sure we’re stocked up on cookies and wine and all those things you enjoy at intermission.
The box office is preparing for tonight’s sold-out house even as the phones keep ringing with orders for later dates and other shows. The facilities crew is polishing the floor and buffing the doorknobs, and soon enough the run crew will return to set the stage and ensure that every prop and costume is in its precise place.
Yellowjackets is set at Berkeley High School, and several characters in the play write for the student newspaper. Appropriately enough, the staff in our School of Theatre will welcome young reviewers from several local high schools for tonight’s performance.
And me? My job is to welcome professional journalists. We have 114 people coming tonight from the media, and I have to greet each one of them at a little table set up in front of the theatre. (It looks just like this photo, except tonight I’ll have a spiffy new tablecloth!)
So much effort goes into everything you see on stage – but you only meet a few of the hundreds of people who work here every year. So we hope you’ll get to know us better through this blog. If we do it right, the blog will have interesting and insightful stories about what really goes on around here. It isn’t a place for sales pitches or idle chatter… It’s a forum where staff and volunteers throughout our organization can speak directly to you, providing an authentic, unvarnished look at life behind the scenes. And, like all blogs, you’ll be able to comment or ask questions in return.
So please drop by regularly to see what all of these people have to say. But, today, we’re kind of busy. So back to work!
Photo by Patrick Cheatham