When concert pianist Mona Golabek takes the stage at
TheatreWorks Silicon Valley this month, she’ll be stepping into the first role
she had as an actor. Golabek has been performing the role of her mother since
2012, premiering The Pianist of Willesden
Lane at the Geffen Playhouse in Los Angeles.
“It’s not only the first time, it’ll be the last time,”
Golabek said, adding that it’s her mission to share her mother Lisa Jura’s
story. It’s a story that captivated her and spoke to her very core. Jura was
not only a Jewish survivor of World War II, she was also a pianist whose music
provided hope for many displaced children during the war.
I had the pleasure of speaking with the concert pianist and
storyteller about her upcoming run in the Bay Area—and how her classical
training has informed the way she thinks about the audience.
Mona Golabek in performing in ‘The Pianist of Willesden Lane.’ Courtesy of Hershey Felder Presents
Danielle Mohlman:
When did you first know you wanted to share your mother’s story on stage? How
did that come about?
Mona Golabek: About 25 years ago—or maybe it was 30 years
ago—I was engaged to play the [Edvard] Grieg Piano Concerto, which is the piece
that my mother always dreamed about. And I don’t know what got ahold of me, but
I just thought if I could get something out there, I could inspire others with
the message of my mother’s story. What happened next was that I set out to
write a book called The Children of
Willesden Lane. And a lot of people said, “You know, this would make a
great performance for the stage.” Because I was going around performing at
schools and things. But it wasn’t until my path crossed with Hershey Felder
that I had the opportunity to develop it for the stage.
And how long ago was
that?
That was about 10 years ago. I saw him perform his Beethoven
show and I was just shocked by what a genius he was. So, I asked for some
advice and I did a little performance for him. And he was so moved that he
decided to take a chance on me.
Do you have a
favorite memory of your mother that you’d be willing to share, perhaps one
that’s been translated into your performance on stage?
She told me her story while she taught me the piano. And I
remember when she pounded out the cadenza of the Grieg Piano Concerto, she told
me about how she would go down into the basement when the bombs started.
Oh wow.
And she went to her music to give her the strength to get
through.
And while your mother’s
story takes place during World War II, it’s still an increasingly relevant
story.
I think the reason this story has such resonance today is because of what we’re seeing in the world with the increasingly horrendous refugee crisis. We need stories that emphasize the good in humanity and the choices that are made—and the courage and conviction.
And in a time when we can hardly admire our leaders…I won’t
go down a political path. I don’t ever do that. But it’s quite obvious that we
are in a crisis of belief in our leaders. And the division that’s happening—this
horrendous rhetoric that divides us—there’s no place for that. We have to fight
that.
Mona Golabek in performing in ‘The Pianist of Willesden Lane.’ Courtesy of Hershey Felder Presents
I know you said that
this is the first and last time you’ll ever portray a character—that you’ll
take on the role of storyteller, actor and pianist all in one. What has been
the biggest challenge of taking on that role?
Making sure that every night on stage costs you—and that
you’re constantly improving, constantly questioning, constantly working to be
better on that stage.
And I’m sure that
applies to your music as well.
Yes. I had great training in the discipline of being a
concert pianist. And I brought that discipline and that training to the world
of acting and storytelling.
I think it’s so
important to, as a performer, be able to say “This is a different audience
tonight. They require just as much from me as last night’s audience.”
Exactly.
What are you most
looking forward to about bringing The
Pianist of Willesden Lane to TheatreWorks—and Silicon Valley?
Well, I understand that it’s an extraordinary community of amazing,
passionate theatre-goers. So I’m excited to bring the story to the community
there. And obviously it’s a hotspot of the world where brilliant ideas come
forth—and the future, in many ways, of technology. I have a really passionate
vision and goal to make Willesden Lane a
worldwide message. I want this to be rallying cry—to remind us why we’re here
and what our purpose on Earth is. So I have this secret fantasy that one of
those guys that runs those tech companies will turn up at the show and be
moved.
This is an open
invitation, then.
Yes. I want it to be known that if they come see Willesden Lane, it will transform their
heart.
Danielle Mohlman is
a Seattle-based playwright and arts journalist. She’s a frequent contributor to
Encore, where she’s written about everything from the intersection of sports
and theatre to the landscape of sensory-friendly performances. Danielle’s
work can also be found in American Theatre, The Dramatist and
on the Quirk Books blog.
There’s
nothing more honest than a teenage audience. They will laugh, but only if
you’re funny. They will gasp, but only if you move them. And they will engage,
but only if you drop all pretense and meet them on their level.
I was lucky enough to witness this firsthand at Seattle Rep’s first student matinee of the 2019-20 season. The cast of Indecentwasn’t accustomed to a 10:30 a.m. curtain, but they matched the audience’s energy with their own. After the performance, many students stayed for a post-show discussion with the cast and musicians, where the audience engaged in what felt more like a conversation than a Q&A—covering everything from Jewish identity to intimacy choreography.
“At Seattle Rep, we don’t necessarily target our shows to a young audience—or even to a family audience,” said Alex Lee Reed, Seattle Rep’s youth engagement manager. But even so, there’s always an incredible amount of interest from the schools Reed works with. This season, the only play that doesn’t have a student matinee is True West. “I’m probably not supposed to say, but these kids get enough plays about middle-aged white guys. School groups and young people are interested in POC stories. They’re interested in plays with music. They’re interested in things that are challenging in new and exciting ways.”
At the time of our interview, Reed had a wait list of 600 students for the student matinees of Jitneyby August Wilson. A wait list for Shout Sister Shout!was also forming. And while cultivating sold-out performances is an exciting part of Reed’s job, he’s always thinking about the educational component. Each student matinee is programmed around Washington’s Common Core State Standards Initiative, complete with a play guide that can be taught in the classroom and additional support from Seattle Rep teaching artists.
“As
an artist, director and educator, that’s my jam,” Reed said. “Theatre is for
everyone, you know?”
And while Seattle Rep doesn’t program their season with young audiences in mind, Seattle Children’s Theatre (SCT) certainly does. It’s not uncommon for SCT to program four to six student matinees into each week of the performance schedule. “That’s the bare minimum that we’ll do,” said Darioush Mansourzadeh, SCT’s school shows associate.
Mansourzadeh
added that he’s become a bit of an expert on the Seattle Public Schools bus
system, scheduling student matinees around the transportation needs of the
district. “Bus drivers have a very important job, and I don’t think a lot of
people respect that community.”
Students at a performance of ‘Vietgone’ at Seattle Rep. Photo by Angela Nickerson
Despite being a member of the marketing department, education is top of mind for Mansourzadeh. Like Reed, Mansourzadeh is always thinking about how SCT’s season ties into the national and state education standards. Black Beauty, which opened SCT’s 2019-20 season, centers on empathy toward animals, so the theatre began thinking about how to tie empathy into the classroom curriculum.
“What
does it mean to be kind to someone who may never know your kindness?”
Mansourzadeh asked.
But the student matinee experience doesn’t end at curtain call. Each performance has a post-show element that’s individually suited to the show and the age of the audience. For Balloonacy, a one-man play written for 3- to 6-year-olds, the post-show element was learning a song.
For The Diary of Anne Frank, which was geared toward a middle school audience, things went a little differently. “The middle schoolers were a little more rambunctious during the show, and it really affected the cast,” Mansourzadeh said. “One of the cast members went out and spoke about empathy and sympathy and how this play relates to society today. We actually had one middle school where every single student wrote an apology letter to the cast, which was really nice for the cast to see. Sometimes learning in theatre isn’t what we expect it to be, but that was a learning moment for them.”
Letters from young audience members at Seattle Children’s Theatre. Courtesy of SCT
At the Pacific Northwest Ballet (PNB), filling the nearly 3,000 seats in McCaw Hall with students is a logistical feat in itself. In addition to an annual student matinee of George Balanchine’s The Nutcracker®and a field trip-friendly excerpt of one of PNB’s story ballets each February, Shannon Barnes, director of community education, partners with eleven schools to provide Discover Dance, their in-school residency. It’s a residency that goes beyond what’s happening on stage, giving students a full view of what it takes to produce a ballet at PNB.
“Part
of our philosophy with all of our programming is looking at all the ways people
make ballet and dance happen,” Barnes said. “We’re talking about stage crew;
we’re talking about the people whose job it is to answer the phones here—and
create posters and do the marketing. The arts can be the person on stage, but
do you like to draw? You can be a costume designer. We’re really peeling back
the layers and being transparent about what it takes to put on a performance.”
It’s
also about demystifying the experience of attending a ballet. Barnes knows that
the work she does extends far beyond the classroom or even that field trip to
McCaw Hall. She’s interested in meeting students and their families where they
are. And one way she’s done that is by translating The Nutcracker study guide that students receive into five
languages—thinking ahead to what the primary language of the child’s household
might be.
“That
family engagement, even if it’s as simple as, ‘We see you, we want you to share
in this with your student,’ is important,” Barnes said. “The ideal would be for
every student coming to the matinee to have a pre-performance workshop and a
study guide in their home language. And that’s the goal.”
And PNB is working towards that goal in whatever way they can. This year’s student matinee of Cinderellawill include live captioning for the show’s host. “And that just feels really good to be able to have that available,” Barnes said. “Just like, no question. We don’t need someone to ask for that accommodation. Here it is. And it’s available because we recognize that in a theatre of that size, someone’s going to benefit from it.”
Barnes
added that this live-captioning technology will bleed into the repertory
season, with some pre- and post-show conversations captioned.
When
I asked if Barnes had a favorite memory from the student matinees she’s
facilitated, her answer was strikingly similar to Mansourzadeh’s. “That line of
buses is pretty impressive,” Barnes said. “I have 100 percent respect for bus
drivers that navigate this area. It is not an easy area to access and we’re
just grateful that people value us enough.”
Audience members at a Pacific Northwest Ballet student matinee. Photo by Alan Alabastro
We tend to forget that all great education programs have to start somewhere. So, imagine my excitement when I learned that the Seattle Opera would be hosting its first ever student matinee later this season. When I spoke with Courtney Clark, Seattle Opera’s school programs manager, she was hard at work preparing for the May 19 student matinee of La Bohème.
“We
want to make sure that the students have an opportunity to come in and make
McCaw Hall a place of comfort,” Clark said, adding that her plan includes a
pre-performance lecture, room to move around, and concessions during
intermission. “We want them to have a full experience. And everyone in this
building has a hand in that. It’s a wonderful field trip. It’s something that
every school should have the opportunity to do.”
Clark
is both a K–12 certified educator and a classically trained opera singer, a combination
that couldn’t be better suited to this role. She credits her own student
matinee experience for putting her on this path. “It changed my life,” Clark
said. “And I’m pretty sure it has changed others’ lives too.”
Clark
shared that La Bohème is her favorite
opera—and that, as a Black woman, this will be the first time she’s been able
to see herself reflected in the role of Mimì, the lead soprano. “It’s the most
diverse cast I’ve ever seen,” Clark said. “And all I can think about is that
every student out there will be able to see themselves in some way. How
powerful is that? When you can see yourself and say, ‘Oh, well I can do that.’
This can’t be an elitist art form when I see everybody represented on that
stage. And that is why I do the work I do.”
And
that’s the power of arts education: to be able to see yourself reflected back
in the performance and know that you belong.
Danielle Mohlman is a Seattle-based playwright and arts journalist. She’s a frequent contributor to Encore, where she’s written about everything from the intersection of sports and theatre to the landscape of sensory-friendly performances. Danielle’s work can also be found in American Theatre, The Dramatist and on the Quirk Books blog.
Spending time together with friends and family is at the
center of so many holiday traditions. Whether you’re singing along with Andy
Williams about the most wonderful time of the year or marveling at the
twinkling lights woven through neighborhood branches—lights that seem to have
gone up overnight—the region is full of loved ones creating new traditions and
maintaining old ones.
Theatres across the Bay Area are inviting families to create new traditions and share in the gift of theatre this year. I spoke with theatre makers at the American Conservatory Theater (A.C.T.), Berkeley Repertory Theatre and TheatreWorks Silicon Valley about how they celebrate holiday traditions and why hope speaks volumes, especially on stage.
For Peter J. Kuo, A.C.T.’s associate conservatory director
and co-director of this year’s production of A
Christmas Carol, the art of bringing this classic story to life is
deeply rooted in tradition. The adaptation was created by former Artistic Director
Carey Perloff, who not only adapted the play 15 years ago, but also directed it
for the first few seasons before bestowing the direction to Domenique Lozano.
Kuo is the third director to tackle this particular adaptation.
“So it’s this really interesting way to see how tradition is
getting passed from generation to generation,” Kuo said. “One of the great
traditions of this story has been one about the spirit of generosity, and that
very much sits in this production.”
Kuo added that his inheritance of the production is part of
that generous tradition, but that this intergenerational motif extends far
beyond direction. Three core companies make up the cast of A Christmas Carol: the professional acting company of Equity actors,
the Master of Fine Arts (M.F.A.) students who are in their final year of their
degree, and the young actors who are part of the Young Conservatory, ranging in
age from 8 to 19 years old.
“I see the production itself as one of generation and how we
pass down generosity,” Kuo said. “One of the traditions of the piece, aside
from this intergenerational mix of students and professional actors, is the
mentorship that happens within the company. Each principal actor mentors one
M.F.A. actor. And each M.F.A. actor mentors two Young [Conservatory] actors.”
The company is comprised of a staggering 46 actors, a fact
Kuo quickly follows by acknowledging his “lovely assistant director” Andrea van
den Boogaard and his “amazing stage management team.”
Jomar Tagatac and cast members from A.C.T.’s Young Conservatory in the 2018 production of ‘A Christmas Carol’ at A.C.T. Photo by Kevin Berne
“We’re still massively outnumbered by the cast,” Kuo said.
“Especially by the Young Conservatory.” But it’s an out numbering that clearly
brings Kuo a lot of joy.
Our conversation was at a pivotal point in the process. Kuo
had just moved from the play’s more intimate small cast scenes to the final
scene of the play. It’s a scene that includes the entire cast, and all the
chaotic energy that comes with that.
“There’s a buzz going on,” Kuo said, recalling that
particular rehearsal. “We’re back in the village, we’re mapping the town. So,
there’s a lot of people who are crossing back and forth—who are running
Christmas day errands. And I’m encouraging everyone to think: What is your
story? You’re carrying this crate. Where are you carrying this crate to? And
there’s all this buzz of trying to figure out and trying to learn, which is
great. I love a learning space. And having these mentors helps disperse some of
the learning and the teaching in the moment, which is really nice. It kind of
takes the burden off me from having to create every single moment and empowers
them to create something for themselves.”
And while the text of the play remains the same from year to
year, Kuo is letting his own lens shine through. “It’s been a conversation with
the actors about what depths of humanity haven’t been explored yet,” Kuo said.
“We’re really looking at who Scrooge is and his relationship to all these
different people around him—how he relates to money and poverty. And to me that
conversation has richly opened up to what is going on in our own society,
especially in the Bay Area where we’re seeing a strong wealth gap between the
tech boom and those who are living on the street. Having everyone dissect that
and discuss that helps us find a richer purpose to the story.”
Ken Ruta and James Carpenter in the 2018 production of ‘A Christmas Carol’ at A.C.T. Photo by Kevin Berne
The
Tale of Despereauxmight not seem on its surface like a holiday show,
but it’s the universal themes of courage, community and bravery that attracted
PigPen Theatre Co., currently in residence at Berkeley Repertory Theatre, to
the source material in the first place—themes that they see as perfect for the
entire family.
“The stories that we perform on stage have always resonated
with a very wide range of age groups,” said Arya Shahi, one of the seven
members of PigPen Theatre Co. “We deal with folk, we deal with fairytale. But
we also started writing our shows when we were in our early 20s and really
wanted to entertain our friends. So we started to write in a tone of voice that
was insightful, but also comic and witty and charming in a way.”
And it’s a tone of voice that’s stuck with them for the last
12 years. Shahi, who serves as the company’s percussionist among other roles,
said that PigPen has always been big fans of family-friendly storytelling,
modeling their structure off Disney, Pixar and Universal Studios. When
Universal approached the company about adapting The Tale of Despereaux into a stage musical, it felt like the
perfect fit.
“Despereaux is this incredible mouse obsessed with this
honey sound,” Shahi shared, by way of explanation. “The way he hears the world
is very different from other people. And that helped open up our music in
certain ways. And then Chiaroscuro, the rat, is called to the light from a
place of darkness and shadow, so all the shadow puppetry that we like to work
with found a home in the story quite naturally.”
Cast of ‘The Tale of Despereaux’ at Berkeley Rep. Photo by Kevin Berne
Dan Weschler, PigPen’s accordionist, was initially attracted
to The Tale of Despereaux because it
depicts a classic hero’s journey, with a twist. The musical takes the familiar
fairytale structure of a knight rescuing a princess from a dragon and
interrogates the tropes within that form.
“It shows the various boons and pitfalls that come from
modeling your behavior off a story like that,” Weschler said. “But it also has
a plurality of heroes. And we really appreciated the spirit of people working
hard to see past the architypes they’re given.”
Because The Tale of
Despereaux runs from Thanksgiving until New Year’s, I asked the guys (as
they affectionately call themselves on the PigPen website) if they had any
holiday traditions they were looking forward to celebrating as a company. Ben
Ferguson, who plays resonator guitar, shared that he’s looking forward to
spending time with his fellow company members and their families.
“Our family’s grown seven-fold over the last 10 years or
so,” Ferguson said. “We’ve been able to spend Thanksgiving with a fair number
of each other’s families. And it kind of feels like a weird tradition to be
gone from home but still with your family—even though you’re not related to
them. So that’s something that I’m extremely excited to do again.”
And then there was a lovely silence before Weschler and
Shahi jostled to tell Ferguson how beautiful that statement was. Some theatre
companies are quick to say that they’re one big happy family, but for PigPen
Theatre Co., nothing could be closer to the truth.
Dorcas Leung and John Rapson in ‘The Tale of Despereaux’ at Berkeley Rep. Photo by Kevin Berne
For TheatreWorks Silicon Valley Artistic Director Robert
Kelley, directing a world premiere musical adaptation of Pride
and Prejudice, with book, music and lyrics by longtime collaborator
Paul Gordon, is not only a holiday celebration, it’s a farewell to this
theatre.
“I love this show,” Kelley said. “I love directing it. And
this is my last world premiere as the artistic director. At the moment, this is
the last thing for me in the context of my 50 years at TheatreWorks. So I
really am pouring my heart and soul into it—and I’m loving every minute of it.”
And it truly sounds like he is. He described one moment in
the musical where the three-room home where the Bennets live is transformed
into the lavish estate of Netherfield. “The way the show flows, it never
stops,” Kelley said, reveling in the puzzle that is 15 distinct locations on a
single stage. “Making that happen visually, with style and beauty and the
requisite excitement has been one of the biggest challenges.”
Kelley’s aware that many of his audience members will be
fans of the original novel by Jane Austen, and that he’ll have to convince them
that this is “the ultimate Mr. Darcy and the ultimate Elizabeth Bennet.”
Justin Mortelliti, Mary Mattison and Monique Hafen Adams in ‘Pride and Prejudice’ at TheatreWorks.
“This is possibly a spoiler alert,” Kelley said, aware that
for some audience members, this will be their first encounter with the 1813
novel, “but I’ve had the most fun working on the Darcy and Elizabeth scenes.
There’s the incredible scene where he proposes to her so horribly—badly and
awkwardly—that there’s really no hope at all. And there’s another scene where
he hands her a letter and tries to explain himself, and you have to see Elizabeth
completely torn. She realizes that her preconceptions—or her prejudices, if you
would—are not entirely true. And Darcy has to realize that his prejudices are not entirely true. There’s a lot of rejection,
and yet the two of them are so attracted to each other. It’s a lovely acting
challenge and it’s amazing fun for a director.”
After Kelley opens his holiday show each year, he takes some
time off to go to the beach, a ritual he finds very calming and beautiful. “It’s
a big family time,” Kelley said, alluding to Christmas day celebrations with
his Bay Area relatives. “But the personal part of me likes to just watch the
waves on the rocks for a few days.”
Danielle Mohlman is
a Seattle-based playwright and arts journalist. She’s a frequent contributor to
Encore, where she’s written about everything from the intersection of sports
and theatre to the landscape of sensory-friendly performances. Danielle’s
work can also be found in American Theatre, The Dramatist and on the Quirk Books
blog.
As
we settle into shorter days, performing arts organizations across Seattle are
finding ways to bring joy to the region’s lengthening nights. And, much like
the twinkling lights that decorate the downtown retail district, these arts
organizations are doing this by bringing holiday cheer to audiences all month
long.
When I sat down to speak with A Christmas CarolDirector Kelly Kitchens in September, she was already in the holiday mood. After directing Christmastown at Seattle Public Theater for the last four years and The Santaland Diaries before that, prepping for a Christmas show before fall officially starts, feels natural. “For me, this is when you actually start thinking about the holidays,” Kitchens said. “It’s the most wonderful time of the year.”
Kitchens stepped away from her co-artistic director role at Seattle Public Theater just after Labor Day in order to pursue a full slate of freelance directing opportunities, both in Seattle and nationally. Directing A Christmas Carol at A Contemporary Theatre (ACT) is the first directing opportunity in this new phase of her career.
“I’m
excited about not just joining the Christmas
Carol family of the humans in the room and the production team and all of
this, but the family at ACT has been so—” Kitchens corrected herself, “the
staff. I call them family because it feels so warm and open. They’ve just
thrown their doors and arms open to me and have been generous with their time
and with their expertise around the story. Because it is such a tradition.”
Keiko Green and Brandon O’Neill in ACT’s 2017 production of ‘A Christmas Carol.’ Photo by Dawn Schaefer
After
directing at nearly every theatre in town, A
Christmas Carol marks Kitchens’ first time directing at ACT. So it’s great
to hear that the experience has been a wonderful one thus far. “I can’t
describe how welcoming that place is,” Kitchens said. “And when I have an idea,
the way we walk through what that means and how to make it work. I’m excited
about that level of collaboration. I’m having the time of my life.”
Midway
through our conversation, Kitchens pulled out a facsimile of the original A Christmas Carol manuscript from 1843,
bound, fittingly, in a holly red cover. “I’m fascinated with the source
material,” Kitchens said.
And
then she showed me the dedication: “My own, and only, MS of the Book. Charles
Dickens.”
Title page of the first edition of ‘A Christmas Carol’ (1843). Courtesy of Wikimedia Commons
When
Charles Dickens set out to write A
Christmas Carol, he was an artist in desperate need of a paycheck. And yet,
as Kitchens read sections of the preface out loud, haunting phrases kept
jumping out. “This ghostly little book.” “This ghost of an idea.” And yet that
“little” ghost story went on to become one of the most well-known Christmas
stories of the western world, one whose social commentary continues to
resonate.
“I
totally understand Mrs. Cratchit’s point of view,” Kitchens said. “When you see
your sweet child failing. And I also think about how many children Mrs.
Cratchit buried already. They have no health care. They’re struggling. And it’s
not because they’re not working hard. And I think about whatever the Christmas
goose is for people right next door to me. There are people who are going to be
hungry and cold. And some of them will be working hard and working long hours.
And that’s because of systems that are in place.”
Kitchens
reflected on what a wonderful tradition A
Christmas Carol is for so many Seattle families—especially for those who
choose to make this show their Christmas gift to each other. “I’m delighted to
be part of that tradition,” Kitchens said. “It’s an honor and a responsibility
to tell this story, and to do it justice.”
The Seattle Men’s Chorus performing. Photo by John Pai
As Seattle Men’s Chorus Conductor and Artistic Director Paul Caldwell gears up for his fourth holiday concert with the chorus, what he’s most looking forward to is the audience. “Seattle audiences are kind of rabid fans,” Caldwell said. “They bring a level of excitement to the concert hall that most cities reserve for the sports arena.”
One
of his favorite memories comes from last year’s holiday concert. The Village
People had released a Christmas album earlier that year, and the Seattle Men’s
Chorus (SMC) was excited to perform holiday music that intersected with their
LGBTQAI+ mission.
“They
rewrote all of their big hits with Christmas words,” Caldwell explained. “So, ‘YMCA’
became ‘NOEL.’ And I got the audience on their feet and they were dancing in
the aisle the whole time. There was just no way to not be absolutely thrilled
with what was happening because the audience was just so energetic and so
excited.”
‘Tis the Seasonis being billed as a “naughty and nice” holiday tradition and Caldwell is thrilled that the Seattle Men’s Chorus has the opportunity to do both in the same concert. “It’s ravishing and heart melting and everything you would expect from a men’s chorus of 250 people singing together,” Caldwell said. “It’s just gorgeous. And that’s the nice part. The naughty part is there’s always a lot of fun and frivolity. There’s this Ella Fitzgerald song we’re doing called ‘Santa Claus Got Stuck in my Chimney.’ It’s nothing but absolute fun.”
The Seattle Men’s Chorus performing. Photo by John Pai
Caldwell
also hinted at all 250 members of the chorus dressing up as fruitcake. “We
don’t take ourselves completely seriously,” he said.
And
as we talked through the music that SMC is performing this year, Caldwell drew
special attention to their Hanukkah selections. This year, the chorus will be
performing songs that Woody Guthrie wrote in collaboration with his
mother-in-law, the Yiddish poet Aliza Greenblatt, in order to teach his
children about their Jewish heritage and culture. Despite the festive Hanukkah
subject matter, the songs are very much rooted in the folk music tradition.
“It
almost slaps you in the face, the juxtaposition of the style and the content of
the text,” Caldwell said. “It’s a real treasure and I’m really proud to put it
on the stage. It is a Jewish didactic work and it is also in the style of
clogging and square dancing. It ends up being not one or the other, but both. I
don’t know if everyone will particularly get it, but the performers know it’s
there and we treasure it because it’s rich in its history.”
And
it’s intersectional, which is part of what makes SMC such a wonderful part of
our arts community.
Pacific Northwest Ballet company dancers in the snow scene from ‘George Balanchine’s The Nutcracker’ in 2018. Photo by Angela Sterling
When I sat down to speak with Pacific Northwest Ballet Artistic Director Peter Boal aboutGeorge Balanchine’s TheNutcracker®, the first memory that popped into his mind was running into a family in the Seattle Center garage at 7:15 p.m. before a 7:30 p.m. curtain. They stopped him to tell him how much they loved The Nutcracker. Boal was confused; the show hadn’t yet begun. “And they said, ‘Oh no, we went to the matinee,’” Boal remembers. “‘We’ve just been in the lobby the whole time.’ They were done at four o’clock and they spent three hours in the lobby. But I think people just love it.”
For
Boal, watching his audiences get swept up in the experience of attending the
ballet, taking Christmas card photos in the lobby and reveling in the
decorations, is a beautiful form of entertainment in itself.
In
a way, The Nutcracker is Boal’s way
of bringing a personal holiday tradition to the city of Seattle. Boal’s first
professional role was dancing in The
Nutcracker party scene as a young boy, alongside the dancer responsible for
restaging George Balanchine’s choreography for Pacific Northwest Ballet (PNB),
Judith Fugate.
Leah Merchant and Dammiel Cruz in ‘George Balanchine’s The Nutcracker’ in 2018. Photo by Lindsay Thomas
“We
did the Sugar Plum Fairy and the Cavalier together for many years at the New
York City Ballet,” Boal said. “It’s funny. When we started staging the pas
de deux [for PNB], there were little places where I would nudge her forward
and pull up on a hand and she was like ‘Oh, I forgot that. I forgot how much
that helps me with my next step.’ And it was really fun. We were two more than
middle-aged people standing in the rehearsal room, remembering how we used to
dance.”
Fugate
lives in Las Vegas now, but as we talked on the phone, I felt like I’d been
transported to that same rehearsal room. “Peter and I have been good friends
for a very long time, so any time he invites me to Seattle to work with the
company, I always say yes,” Fugate said. “You know, at the time, many of the
young boys in The Nutcracker were
played by young girls. So I distinctly remember the fact that there happened to
be an actual young boy playing my son. And I remember the man who took care of
the men’s wardrobe—his name was Ducky—bringing Peter Boal to the stage before
the performance and saying ‘Here’s yours, Judy. She’ll take care of you the
rest of the way.’ And sure enough, many years later, here we are.”
Fugate
was 17 years old, in her first year dancing as a company member of the New York
City Ballet. Boal was nine years old.
Elise Hueffed, with Pacific Northwest Ballet School students in ‘George Balanchine’s The Nutcracker’ in 2018. Photo by Lindsay Thomas
It’s a ballet that’s lived with Fugate for most of her life, starting with her first performance as Clara at eight years old. And while The Nutcracker, and her time dancing with George Balanchine, who she affectionately calls “Mr. B,” continues to be a large part of her life, Fugate is always thinking about her audience, “It can be a child’s first introduction to live theatre—or even the ballet itself. And many adults choose to go to The Nutcracker to see if they even like ballet. The energy of the auditorium is very unique. It’s maybe one chance in the year that a family actually has an outing together. It’s a very special occasion. Not to mention, it’s also the holiday season, which already adds to the excitement.”
And
with so many entertainment options out there—live music, theatre and streaming
services at home, just to name a few—the fact that so many audience members
actively make the decision to see The
Nutcracker each year is something that Boal never takes for granted.
“The
process starts long before they get to the theatre,” Boal said. “Whatever they
choose to wear, what time they’re leaving the house, where they’re eating—the
whole thing. And at the end of the day, we’re asking people to pay an amount
you can’t ignore, for tickets. It’s a high ticket price for many people. But
that person I met in the garage at 7:15 p.m. after a matinee—they didn’t
question what they had invested. They got a whole day, and it was going to
stick with them for a long, long time.”
And
it’s those audience experiences that make it all worthwhile.
The Seattle Men’s Chorus’ concert ‘Tis the Seasonruns November 30 to December 22 at Benaroya Hall, the Rialto Theater in Tacoma and the Everett Civic Auditorium. Tickets are available online or by calling the box office at 206.388.1400.
Danielle Mohlman is a Seattle-based playwright and arts journalist. She’s a frequent contributor to Encore, where she’s written about everything from the intersection of sports and theatre to the landscape of sensory-friendly performances. Danielle’s work can also be found in American Theatre, The Dramatist and on the Quirk Books blog.
If
you’re an avid theatregoer, chances are you’ve seen Kathryn Van Meter’s work,
either on stage or off. She’s an accomplished actor who, last season alone, played
Judy in The Curious Incident of the Dog
in the Night-Time at Village Theatre and originated the role of Liz in Fire Season at Seattle Public Theater.
She’s
an incredible choreographer with credits on the stage and the screen. (The
choreography in Netflix’s Thirteen
Reasons Why—that’s her.) And she’s a
prolific director, making her Seattle
Children’s Theatre directing debut with Corduroythis winter. We spoke before the start of rehearsals about what it means to
bring this childhood favorite to life.
Danielle Mohlman: For so
many folks, there’s a childhood association with Corduroy—either they remember it from their own childhood or
they’ve shared this book with a child in their life. Can you talk to me about
what it means to direct the play Corduroy?
Why this play now?
Director of ‘Corduroy’ Kathryn Van Meter. Photo by Kevin Clark
Kathryn
Van Meter: Yes, yes. Or as my friend said the other day “Why this bear now?”
Which I really love. I’ve worked off and on at the Seattle Children’s Theatre
for the last several decades, primarily as a choreographer. And when Courtney
Sale [SCT’s artistic director] approached me about doing this project I said,
“The bear?!” This book is 50 years old and I deeply remember both Corduroy and A Pocket for Corduroy as a huge part of my childhood. I just loved
both books tremendously. And to take something that we have a great love of and
put it in front of a multigenerational audience feels like such an unbelievable
gift. Especially around the holidays.
The
play really expands on what is happening at Lisa and her mom’s house. So the
book pretty much deals with Corduroy trying to find his buttons—and the
delicious spectacular mess he makes along the way. And the play adaptation also
shows side by side what Lisa is doing to convince her mom to let her get
Corduroy. She is going through her evening trying to figure out new and
exciting ways to get an advance on her allowance. And they’re both just making
these spectacular messes along the way as they strive for their goal. They both
have these beautiful versions of the hero’s journey. And I particularly get
really excited when I see actual mess being made in the theatre. I think messes
are really exciting.
And messes that feel like
messes. Like, real messes. Not staged messes.
Yeah!
And I think that’s really fun. So the piece is two distinct feels. One of them
is just pants wettingly funny slapstick—old school clown physical comedy. And
then underlying all of that is this beautiful, touching, tender story of how we
are awakened when we meet a new friend. And how that awakens a part of us we
didn’t know was there. And the ability to have both of those things side by
side in a production is really exciting.
Chip Sherman in SCT’s ‘Corduroy.’ Photo by Angela Sterling
I noticed that this show is
being advertised for ages three and up. What excites you about directing with
this young audience in mind?
Young
audiences are the most honest audience you can perform for. If they love it,
they’ll tell you. If they don’t love it, they’ll tell you. And so there’s
something about that immediacy that is so exciting to make theatre for. You
know that giggle where they laugh so hard they can’t breathe? This show is that
kind of fun. And it’s a tricky time that we’re in. And the opportunity to be in
communion with our community and create that kind of laughter feels really
exciting. And the most wonderful thing about theatre for young audiences, no
matter what age you are, when you step inside that theatre you give yourself
permission to be a younger version of you. And I think there’s a softening that
can happen in an extraordinary way.
And for some audience
members, this might be their first live theatre experience.
And
that’s a tremendous honor and responsibility. You know, one of my first mentors
many, many years ago was giving an opening night speech to the cast and he
said, “Every time you perform, you’ve got to remember that somebody in that
audience—if not more than one—really sacrificed something to be there.” They
chose to do that. And I think the opportunity to ignite the imagination and
delight of kids in particular, to give them the opportunity to see things
transform in front of them, feels like a beautiful gift to give.
Evangeline OpongParry and Chip Sherman in SCT’s ‘Corduroy.’ Photo by Angela Sterling
And
there’s something that really does charge a cast to see and hear really young
people in the audience. And part of that is because the reactions are so audible
and immediate. It’s different from playing to an audience of adults who are
polite or exhausted. For so many reasons, we think that adults are content to
be quieter at performances. But the gift of the sounds that the kids make is
pretty exciting.
Before I let you go, I have
to ask. Do you have a favorite holiday tradition?
I
do! So, in the 80s, my parents recorded A
Muppet Family Christmas and a Sesame
Street Christmas special on our VCR. And a couple of years ago, my
sister-in-law converted it to DVD, so now I watch that every Christmas. And the
great thing about it is it still has all the commercials.
I was just going to ask
what those commercials were like.
There’s a lot of OshKosh B’gosh. There’s a lot of Doublemint gum, with all the twins. And there’s a lot of (sings) “I’ve got that M&M feelin’.” It’s pretty great. That is my holiday tradition. Muppet Family Christmas—with the commercials.
Danielle Mohlman is a Seattle-based
playwright and arts journalist. She’s a frequent contributor to Encore, where
she’s written about everything from the intersection of sports and theatre to
the landscape of sensory-friendly performances. Danielle’s work can also
be found in American Theatre, The Dramatist and on the Quirk Books
blog.
When
I spoke with actress Carrie Compere mere days before Shout Sister Shout! rehearsals were scheduled to begin at Seattle
Rep, her excitement surrounding Sister Rosetta Tharpe and this play was
palpable.
“I think the thing that I’m most excited about, is for people to hear about who she was,” Compere said, adding that Tharpe’s contribution to rock and roll wasn’t just musical, it was cultural as well. “That this beautiful black woman from the middle of nowhere influenced so much of what we hear today—I’m just glad her name is going to start to ring out there, you know?”
And as we continued to discuss The Godmother of Rock ‘N’ Roll, that excitement only grew.
Actor Carrie Compere who will play Rosetta Tharpe in ‘Shout Sister Shout!’. Courtesy of Seattle Rep
Danielle Mohlman: I’ll
admit that I didn’t learn about Sister Rosetta Tharpe until probably two years
ago when the book that Shout Sister Shout!is based on started making the rounds again. I was like “Who’s
this? I need to know more!”
Carrie
Compere: Yeah and it’s so cool because the first time I ever heard about
Rosetta Tharpe—the very first time I ever heard her name mentioned—I happened
to be on my first tour that I was in. And we were in Memphis and went to go
visit Graceland. And there was a man there with a small group of people—I don’t
know if they were his family or if he was giving a tour or what. And he sounded
like he was from Great Britain. He was the one who mentioned her! And he was
talking about how Elvis had been influenced by Sister Rosetta. And the way he
talked about her, he was so excited, and I was just like, “Oh this woman must
have been something else.” You know? Because that was the very first time I’d
ever heard about her. And to now know who she really was and what she did for
music is really amazing.
Yeah. And one thing I find
really fascinating, the more I learn about her and the more she comes up in
these pop culture conversations, is the fact that her queerness was left out of
the conversation for a very long time.
And
the play has tones of that, but it’s not overt. And I think that—now, I don’t
know—but I think that’s just out of respect for how Rosetta handled it in her
own life. She never really talked about it in a public forum. Behind closed
doors, when she was in areas where she felt comfortable, that was something she
felt free to display. But in the script, they do touch on her relationship with
Marie Knight and how they loved each other beyond the sisterly way. But they
build it in a way that’s respectful to Rosetta.
Christin Byrdsong and Carrie Compere in ‘Shout, Sister, Shout!’ at Seattle Rep. Photo by Bronwen Houck
And it’s wonderful to hear
you portray it that way—in respect to her and the way she lived her life.
Because it was a completely different time and it wasn’t safe to be public
about sexuality—not in that way.
Absolutely.
And she was a woman who came from not only American culture where it was such a
taboo [in the 1930s and 1940s] but also in the church culture.
Do you have a favorite
Sister Rosetta Tharpe song? Maybe one you’re excited to dig into in rehearsal?
I
don’t know if I have a favorite. I love “Up Above My Head” and the words are so
simple. “Up above my head, I hear music in the air.” I think the reason why I
love it so much is because I’ve watched her perform it over and over and over
again. I’ve been watching videos of her and—I’m going to get emotional right
now—but once she’s singing it, you know that she’s talking about something more
than just these lyrics. She’s just so rooted and grounded in gospel music—and
in the message that she wanted to bring to the world. She’s a woman of faith.
And I am as well. And it resonates so deeply with me, you know? And it’s an
upbeat song. (Sings) “Up above my
head / I hear music in the air / And I really do believe / There’s a Heaven
somewhere.”
And
you know she believes that. And she’s singing it and she’s playing her guitar
and she’s sweating—and she’s giving everything. You know, in the book Shout, Sister, Shout!—and I’m
paraphrasing this—one of her friends said there’s a difference between just
singing the song and having a relationship with the words you’re singing about.
And that’s who Rosetta was. It went so far beyond just the music.
Chaz Rose and Carrie Compere in ‘Shout, Sister, Shout!’ at Seattle Rep. Photo by Bronwen Houck
Do you have a favorite
moment from the play that you’re really looking forward to digging into in the
rehearsal room?
Oh
man. Right now I’m learning the electric guitar and acoustic guitar. Because
that’s how she established herself in rock and roll, with her picking. I am
excited and terrified to really dig into the actual play. And I feel completely
supported by our creative team and our music department. But before this
experience, I had never played guitar before in my life. So, for me, this was
something that on the onset looked insurmountable. So, it’s just been me
spending time with the guitar. Sometimes I will literally just strap the guitar
on my shoulder and just walk around the house—just really trying to develop a
relationship with this instrument.
Because
for Rosetta it wasn’t just her instrument. It was an extension of who she was.
And sometimes when she wasn’t being confident—when she wasn’t speaking—you
could see the way she was holding the guitar, as if she was speaking through
the guitar. She was using the guitar to express what she was trying to say, or
to support what she was saying. And Rosetta! Oh my god, her speed? Her tempo?
It’s otherworldly. It’s amazing what this woman did.
Danielle Mohlman is a Seattle-based
playwright and arts journalist. She’s a frequent contributor to Encore, where
she’s written about everything from the intersection of sports and theatre to
the landscape of sensory-friendly performances. Danielle’s work can also be found
in American Theatre, The Dramatist and on
the Quirk Books blog.
When Yang Zhen and I spoke on the phone in early October, Yang was quite literally burning the midnight oil. The choreographer was at home in Beijing, winding down after a late-night rehearsal for his latest evening-length piece, Minorities.
While Yang’s day was coming to an end, mine was just beginning. As we navigated time zones and language barriers, I asked Yang my most burning question: The marketing materials that Stanford Live put out call him a “boy wonder.” I wanted to know what that phrase meant to him.
“I
don’t know why they’re calling me this,” he laughed. “Maybe I’m a genius for
creation.” Despite his humble approach to his work, Yang is gearing up for an
exciting step in Minorities’
journey: a North American tour spanning Toronto, Canada and Stanford,
California. Over the course of our conversation, Yang spoke about why he, as
part of the ethnic majority in China, felt so compelled to create a piece for
and about minority identity.
Danielle Mohlman: So much
of Minorities is about identity. What
was your initial inspiration for the piece?
Yang
Zhen: My university was the center of diversity in Beijing. There are a lot of
different ethnic minorities in China―and many come to Minzu University to
study. I had four years at that university and made a lot of friends who
educated me on the tradition of minority dance. Because at my university, we
learned the “official” dances of all these minority cultures and my friends
would say, “Oh no. It’s very different from what you learned.”
When
they came to Beijing, my friends had to change their lives and the way they
behave. It’s very difficult and very sensitive. There are different ideas and
different ways of talking―and it brought some contrast to my world.
From different cultural
perspectives in China?
Yes.
And then I went to Xinjiang, a province in western China, just to tour it. And
I found that that city is not very different from my own home in Beijing. And
then I went to Mongolia, I went to the Hunan Province. But my inspiration
really started with those four years in university―from my friends. It made me
want to talk about these themes.
Production Photo from ‘Minorities.’ Courtesy of artist
This performance at
Stanford is the first time Minorities has
been seen in the United States. What does it mean to be sharing your work―and
this work in particular―with an American audience?
The
identity I speak from―the Chinese society―has issues and problems that are very
international. I think everywhere has identity problems. And I think America
has their own identity problem. People from all over come to America. I’ve been
to New York and it’s an amazing city. There’s freedom in the society. But it’s
a very sensitive issue. I really like to take the subway to go everywhere. It’s
very personal. I like to watch how people behave, and the details that they
show in a public place.
With
Minorities, I’m able to share the
Chinese minorities with an American audience. Their lives, their hopes, their
disappointments. The way they occupy this new generation. I think this is very,
very universal.
The majority of your
audience in California will be English-speaking. How does dance and your work
transcend language?
Well
first, we have body language.
Of course.
Minorities will of course have
traditional dance from Chinese Koreans, Inner Mongolia, Tibet, Xinjiang
Province and Macao. And you’ll see how the dance technique of these traditional
dances interacts with the technique of acting and theatre. And the music is
also very important. We have one section where the music is from the 1960s. And
that dance style is very straight. Everyone has these set smiles―like robots.
The dancing from that time was the national machine. Everyone had to be the
same. It was totalitarian; that was the aesthetic. And then we go back to the
traditional and soft dance. It’s like we are back in our university learning
modern dance. Every look, ever contour is very, very soft.
Production Photo from ‘Minorities.’ Courtesy of artist
To go from that stiff
totalitarian style to that soft flowing look―I bet that’s really beautiful to
see.
Yeah,
yeah, yeah. Everything has to be beautiful. And after 2008, after China hosted
the Olympics, everyone really started to learn English. Everybody wanted to be
international. So there’s this dance in Minorities
that’s very much like a playground dance.
Oh fun!
It’s
very fun. And you can see the whole identity of China covering the country.
Before I let you go, what
are you most looking forward to about coming to California?
Oh,
everyone in my group is so excited for this work to be in North America. We’re
excited about the audience. We’re curious about how they think about China. The
piece is more asking than answering, you know what I mean?
It comes with questions.
Yeah,
yeah. Because we’re never really confused about who we are. But some days you
wake up and you ask “Who am I?”
Danielle Mohlman is a Seattle-based
playwright and arts journalist. She’s a frequent contributor to Encore, where
she’s written about everything from the intersection of sports and theatre to
the landscape of sensory-friendly performances. Danielle’s work can also be found
in American Theatre, The Dramatist and on
the Quirk Books blog.
When
I spoke with Testmatch playwright
Kate Attwell on her second day of rehearsal at the American Conservatory Theater
(A.C.T.) in San Francisco, she was in a fight with jet lag. “I haven’t had
breakfast yet, but I’ve had at least three cups of coffee,” Attwell shared.
“I’ve literally been up since four thinking ‘When am I allowed to really be in
the world?’”
The answer, as far as I’m concerned, is right now. Attwell, who identifies as “technically Irish,” spent most of her childhood in South Africa, Texas and England. After getting an MFA in Dramaturgy from Yale, Attwell moved to London, splitting her time between there and New York. So, the jet lag is understandable. As she acclimated to the West Coast, Attwell and I talked about sports, theatre, and why she’s making space for marginalized voices in her work.
Playwright Kate Attwell. Courtesy of A.C.T.
Danielle Mohlman: There’s
something really powerful about using sports as a conduit onstage, especially
for female-identifying playwrights. Can you talk to me about your relationship
to cricket and why you chose this sport as you navigate themes of race, colonialism
and gender?
Kate
Attwell: I was watching some women’s cricket on television a couple years ago
and it wasn’t a sport that I’d thought of in a long time. I hadn’t really
thought about cricket since I was a kid. And I was watching a T20 [Twenty20]
version of the sport, which is like a faster version of the sport. It’s super
commercial and much more exciting than the traditional way that it’s played.
And it just felt exciting to me to see women having that level of visibility in
the sport and the way that it really is a calculated game. It’s also a
dangerous game. The ball is intensely hard and comes at you really fast. The
batswomen are wearing these war gear uniforms. We see that kind of attire in
ice hockey or men playing American football. But that war gear on female bodies
just felt really exciting to me. And now, this sport is essentially being
played by what is, and was, this colonizing nation—and all of the nations that
it historically colonized.
Because it’s huge in India.
It’s
huge in India. Yeah yeah yeah. It’s an amazing sport there. The excitement
around it is something that’s really wonderful to witness.
One thing that I noticed in
the production credits is that A.C.T.
has hired Radhika Rao as a cultural consultant—and I think that’s incredible to
see, in the same way that I’m relieved to see an intimacy consultant involved
with a play that has a lot of sexual content. Can you talk about the decision
to bring her on board?
Yeah.
Radhika is fantastic. She’s been with us since we did a workshop back at the
beginning of the year. It’s been crucial to me in all the phases of development
to have someone who’s holding that space in a completely authentic way. This is
a very important story to be telling because I’m wanting to harshly interrogate—and
critique—the colonial impulse, which plays out in so many different ways. It’s
not just about India. It’s about that force of white supremacy and the way that
it existed historically. It’s about looking at the historical narrative in
order to look at where we are today. And having Radhika in the room has been
crucial for the actors as well.
Cast and crew in rehearsal for ‘Testmatch.’ Photo by Beryl Baker
Because
oftentimes—you know, you’re talking about an intimacy consultant. That’s a very
similar kind of thing, where historically we can over depend on actors having
to bring their own understandings, their own dramaturgy, their own culture. And
that we only rely on that. And that’s great if they want to share that. And I
think the reason I love theatre is because I love working with actors. And letting
them bring themselves to the role and letting them have an impact on it. That’s
crucial. But also having somebody who’s not embodying it—to be able to
authenticate and hold that space for them—feels super crucial too. It’s a
necessity of the work.
You said you split your
time between London and New York. What’s one thing American theatre can learn
from England?
This
may be a boring answer, but ticket prices. In London, I can always figure out
how to see a show for £15. And that feels very manageable in a way that
$50 or $70 is just ludicrous. And I think that allows theatre to be a living,
breathing part of society and culture in a very different way. And that allows
for experimentation and different ways to take risks.
Coming back to Testmatch:
Do you have a favorite moment from rehearsal so far? Or something you’re
looking forward to in the coming weeks?
Yeah,
yesterday was my first day.
Director Pam MacKinnon and cast member Avanthika Srinivasan in rehearsal for ‘Testmatch.’ Photo by Beryl Baker
And you’re still
adjusting to the time zone.
Yeah,
I’m just like “Where am I? Who am I? Who wrote this play?” But I’m really
looking forward to everyone being able to get on their feet. I’m so impressed
with Pam MacKinnon. She’s amazing so far. I love watching her. I feel
completely comfortable as a writer.
There’s a trust
there.
Yeah, exactly! And this is a very stylistic play. It’s a little bit Greek, it’s a little bit farce, it’s a little bit realism, it’s a little bit metatheatrical. It’s all of these different things. And now, being able to actually build those other things that the play is doing, is really exciting.
CORRECTION: October 31, 2019 A previous version of the article misstated that Kate Attwell holds a MFA in playwriting. She holds a MFA in dramaturgy.
Danielle Mohlman is a Seattle-based
playwright and arts journalist. She’s a frequent contributor to Encore, where
she’s written about everything from the intersection of sports and theatre to
the landscape of sensory-friendly performances. Danielle’s work can also be
found in American Theatre, The Dramatist and on
the Quirk Books blog.
Playwright
Steven Dietz is so personable he doesn’t need an icebreaker. When I called him
to talk about the upcoming production of Dracula
at ACT Theatre, the first thing he wanted to talk about was my area code, a
holdover from my Southern California hometown. I joked that I’d probably carry
that area code with me for the rest of my life. And he echoed the same
sentiment.
“As
good as Austin has been to us, it’s always nice to see that 206 on my area
code,” Dietz said. “I’ve had such profound good fortune in Seattle. I’ve been
very lucky there. I’m always glad to get back to Seattle through all those
changes, through all the hardships.” We talked about everything from his
process of re-adapting Dracula to his passion for making room for the next
generation of playwrights, but one thing rang through every moment of our
conversation: Steven Dietz truly loves Seattle.
Danielle Mohlman: You originally wrote this adaptation of Dracula in 1994, but this production at ACT Theatre is being billed as a re-adaptation of your own play. What did that process look like for you? What does it mean to re-adapt your own play?
Steven Dietz: It’s funny. I have the script of the other adaptation here because I was trying to steal my own previous playwright’s note. (Laughs.) I wrote that adaptation of Dracula 25 years ago. It premiered at the Arizona Theatre Company in 1995 with a lot of Seattle connections—directed by David Goldstein, actors like David Pichette, Suzanne Bouchard and Peter Silbert. Bill Forrester did the set. So, I had all these amazing Seattle connections working on the premiere. And god bless that Dracula play. It’s been very good to me. And it’s not going away. That adaptation will remain in the Dramatists Play Service catalogue and will keep getting produced.
Playwright Steven Dietz. Photo by John Ulman
And what got us to this production at ACT is that John Langs wanted to do a show of mine. He knew I was coming up on the 30th anniversary of me coming to Seattle and the production of God’s Country in 1988. So, he said, “I want to do Dracula.” And John is a fantastic director and he’s also a fantastic showman. So, a piece like Dracula just hits all the sweet spots for him. And what I said to John is, “I think what I’d like to do, is go back to my existing adaptation and make another version.” I wanted to streamline it, tighten it. I’m a better storyteller now and I wanted to see if I could just squeeze it and shape it a little bit more.
The
best analogy I can give you is this: when I wrote the original adaptation, I
was sitting at my computer and to the left I had Bram Stoker’s book. This time,
I was sitting at my desk and to my left I had my own published play.
One thing that
really stood out to me last time we spoke is how much you love Seattle actors.
So, I have to know: what excites you about this Dracula cast in particular?
A handful of those actors are folks that I’ve worked with. Arjun Pande is just a unicorn, right? There’s not another Arjun. Like, what the heck? And most of my experience, of course, with Basil Harris is doing these multiple productions of Go, Dog, Go!We’ve done it at the Seattle Children’s Theatre and so many other places. So, they’re actors I really admire.
John
seems to find these actors—and Seattle seems to produce these actors—that have emotional
power, but with a performative edge. There’s a particular style rooted in just
enough psychological realism. But there’s a performative edge that’s not navel-gazing.
Seattle actors don’t, you know, have the same reputation as Chicago actors
being sort of brawling actors. This is a little too black and white, I know.
But Seattle actors—their performances don’t go down inside their character.
They go out and they’re elastic and they’re effervescent. I use this phrase
when I direct in other cities: “As we say in Seattle, better strong and wrong
than slight and right.” Give me strong and wrong. We can work with that. We can
settle that up later. There’s a lack of caution among so many Seattle actors
and I just adore it.
Steven Dietz’s other plays that have been performed at ACT.
Switching gears off Dracula for a little bit—
Please,
please. I need a break! (Laughs)
In addition to all
of these long-term collaborations you have with ACT, Seattle Children’s
Theatre, Seattle Rep and others, you
also recently joined the nominating committee for the Emerald Prize at Seattle
Public Theater. How does championing emerging playwrights factor into your life
and your career?
I’ve been lucky enough to teach playwriting and directing masterclasses for years—even before having the full-time appointment at UT Austin. I was the very fortunate recipient early on in my career of mentorship from writers who were a little bit ahead of me in terms of age. August Wilson, Lee Blessing, Barbara Field. The mentorship I received from them, just by example, was crucial to me becoming a playwright. And I think we may be in a golden age of playwriting. I think we absolutely have a wealth of young and emerging talent.
And
I take the responsibility very seriously. Those of us who have been fortunate
enough to make our living in this business have to make room for other writers.
Our legacy will be: how did we leave the theatre? And who did we leave the
theatre to?
And
I think it’s our responsibility to foster that and curate that and not just
wring it out like a sponge—or pull up the drawbridge behind us. I’m borrowing
this art form. I don’t own this. I’m just passing through. With my MFA
playwriting students, I loved when they had better ideas than mine—and more
vibrant ideas.
So,
I think the Emerald Prize is great. All of those awards out there are signals
that the field is hungry for new work. But I don’t think it’s enough. It’s my
hope that there are six, eight, ten Seattle playwrights who will get to have
these ongoing relationships with the same theatres that I have. And how that
happens is a much harder conversation. But one way it can happen is for those
of us in a more senior position to make some noise about emerging writers. I
just hope the next generation blows my generation out of the water.
Steven Dietz’s re-adaptation of Dracula will play at ACT Theatre October 18–November 17. Tickets are available online.
Danielle Mohlman is a Seattle-based
playwright and arts journalist. She’s a frequent contributor to Encore, where
she’s written about everything from the intersection of sports and theatre to
the landscape of sensory-friendly performances. Danielle’s work can also be
found in American Theatre, The Dramatist and on
the Quirk Books blog.
When John Turman moved to Seattle in 2015, hosting the Tiny Tots concert series was the furthest thing from his mind. He’d just graduated from Rice University and, after deciding to turn down a principal horn position at the St. Paul Chamber Orchestra, joined the horn section at the Seattle Symphony.
Now entering his fifth season with the Symphony and
his second season as the Tiny Tots concert series host, this Austin native is
happy to now call Seattle home. “There’s just an action and activism that I
feel here in Seattle,” Turman said. “And politically, it’s amazing. I hear more
voices here than anywhere else.”
I had the pleasure of speaking with Turman just before the
start of the 2019-20 Seattle Symphony season about his role as a host, and how
that role has deepened his understanding of early childhood education.
Danielle Mohlman: The Tiny Tots concerts are geared toward children
ages zero to five, a demographic typically left out of symphony performances.
How did you become involved in this concert series as a host? What drew you
into this age group?
John Turman: When Amy Heald, our associate director of collaborative
learning, joined the Seattle Symphony a couple of years ago, she said “Let’s
bring some of these Symphony musicians onstage for these kids.” It was an age
we were kind of missing out on. Because they absolutely can understand and have
fun and recognize the musicians. And we really wanted to change things up with
our Tiny Tots programming, so we kind of scrapped the entire thing and started
from the ground up. And we started writing our own scripts. Our main thing is
it’s all based on really great music. We wanted to program some pieces with
substantial weight in the classical cannon—because there are so many pieces
that not only the kids can enjoy, but the parents as well.
And just
knowing that learning classical music early on helps with complex processing
later in life. And not pandering and saying that this is “children’s music.”
Because all music can be children’s music.
Exactly. It’s this cognitive development cycle that Amy [Heald] educated me about when she brought me on to host. Danielle Kuhlmann was the first host of this structure of Tiny Tots that we’re using right now. We had a woodwind quintet play a show and then Danielle read a book to go along with this composition. And then the next year, Amy approached me and asked if I wanted to host. And I said yes, of course.
John Turman hosting Seattle Symphony’s Tiny Tots Concert. Photo by James Holt
I love music education and I come from a background, you know, Texas high school—really solid music educators. I’ve known a lot of great educators throughout my life and I’m very grateful and privileged to have had that. And so I’m really excited to give that back in this way. I’m still performing and people know that I play in the Symphony and that’s part of the fun. I’m like the friend who says, “Here’s what things are really like in the Symphony.” And these kids are all zero to five and I’m like, “You guys belong here just as much as the adults do.”
Yeah!
So Amy and I started brainstorming. It was her idea to do standard
chamber music pieces, so we have a woodwind quintet for one show, a brass
quintet for another, a percussion trio and a string quartet. And the final
concert is a big chamber orchestra.
Bringing
it all together.
Yeah, exactly. So now we have this whole program where the kids will
see every instrument represented on stage throughout the Tiny Tots series.
Which is so much different than what we were doing before. And we’re so excited
because people really do enjoy that. They enjoy taking their kids to see a show
for thirty minutes and they enjoy the programming. And I hope they enjoy the
characters that we get introduced to. I’m usually always wearing some type of
sequined garment—something that’s visually appealing. Stimuli is a big thing in
their life right now. Sequins are golden. Sequins are the key here.
Switching
gears a little bit: when did you first discover your passion for music. Do you
remember how old you were?
I do. I remember the exact moment. It was when my Grandpa Tom took me
into the music store in Austin, Texas and bought me a three-quarter size
classical guitar. I was seven. And I thought, “Oh yeah, I’m Stevie Ray Vaughan
over here.” And then he bought me a guitar book. And it was just when I was
learning how to read, so I learned how to tune the guitar myself, and I learned
how to read the first three lines of the treble clef. That moment of getting
that guitar and making sound on my own for the first time was something that
really, really drove home that I wanted to do this. I wanted to learn this. And
both my parents were in the Longhorn Band [at the University of Texas, Austin] that’s
how they met.
John Turman hosting Seattle Symphony’s Tiny Tots Concert. Photo by James Holt
Wow.
Yeah. And then band started for me in sixth grade. And at the
instrument petting zoo, the shortest line was for the French horn. And I
thought it was really cool. And my Aunt Betty Lou said, “You know, John, this
is the most challenging instrument in the orchestra.” And I said, “Oh I can’t
back down from a challenge.” And I had some incredible music educators. My band
director got me a CD of the Canadian Brass and The Planets.
Oh, I love
The Planets.
Right? It just kind of triggered my hunger. It really just activated
the nerd inside. I loved organizing chamber music ensembles with my friends.
And then I was drum major in high school and I loved being that kind of role
model for band kids. And, you know, being in band is hard. Being in high school
is hard. And I was happy to be a friend and mentor to a lot of people through
that.
Danielle Mohlman is a
Seattle-based playwright and arts journalist. She’s a frequent contributor to
Encore, where she’s written about everything from the intersection of sports
and theatre to the landscape of sensory-friendly performances. Danielle’s
work can also be found in American
Theatre, The Dramatist and on the
Quirk Books blog.
