Five Friday Questions with Elizabeth Heffron

Elizabeth Heffron is a Seattle playwright and teacher whose play, Bo-Nita, premiered at the Rep in 2013 and received an Edgerton New Play Award. (See her City Arts interview about that play.) Her most recent new work, Portugal, has been developed as part of the Hedgebrook Women Playwrights Festival through the Seattle Rep Writers Group and ACT Theatre. She currently teaches at Cornish College of the Arts, ACT Young Playwrights Program, and at Freehold Theatre/Lab, where she spent five years working with the women of the Washington Correctional Center for Women on inmate-generated performance pieces.  She is an alumna of the Seattle Rep Writers Group, a member of the Sandbox Artists Collective, and the Dramatists Guild. 

Continuing our run of notable local playwrights, Heffron joined me for this week’s installment of Five Friday Questions.

What’s the best performance you’ve seen lately?

There’s so much amazing work going up these days, and a million things I really want to see, but I keep thinking about a performance of Top Girls by Caryl Churchill that was actually a Cornish College production directed by Kate Myre. The first act is complex and hard to pull off, and this was the first time I actually felt drawn to follow the whole thing through. It was a fabulous verbal ballet. The second act just kills you. Perfect play to remind you how little has really changed on the woman-issues front.

What’s the best meal in Seattle?

Little Uncle on Madison. I don’t know what you’d call it…maybe country Thai food? I love that this place exists. The tastes take you somewhere far away from Seattle.

What music gets you pumped up? What do you listen to when you’re sad?

For just sheer energy-mania, The Pogues or old-school Green Day. 

When I’m sad and want to stay sad, I’ve been listening to this music from Portugal called Fado. Beautiful female voices wailing about fate and loss and melancholia. Terrific. Check out Mariza or Carminho.

What’s the ideal setting for writing a play?

The best way for me to start a play is somewhere with a lot of white noise and comfortable chairs, so a coffee shop or cafeteria. Once I’m rolling and charging towards a deadline, I go down to “the hole,” my basement office. It’s in my mother-in-law’s house, and there’ve been up to four generations all living in that house, so I’m alone, but with lots of people tromping around right above me. 

What’s the most useful thing anyone’s ever taught you about working in theatre?

If it’s really your vocation then it’s a long and winding road, and what goes around comes around. That. And less-is-more. Almost always. 


See one of Heffron’s plays performed April 27 at Sandbox Radio Live at ACT. See her Cornish Junior Original Works students perform a series of 10-Minute Plays they wrote and directed as part of O! FEST at the Cornish Playhouse Studio.

Five Friday Questions with Wayne Rawley

Wayne Rawley is a playwright, director, actor and Cornish grad. He’s a regular contributor to the 14/48 Festival and Sandbox Radio Live as well as a teaching artist with ACT’s Young Playwrights Program. You might’ve seen some of his work produced last year in the form of Theater Schmeater’s Attack of the Killer Murder…of Death! and Seattle Public Theatre’s Christmastown: A Holiday Noir.

Rawley is currently directing his play Live! From the Last Night of my Life, winner of the 2012 Gregory Award for Outstanding New Play. The production reunites the cast and crew of the acclaimed 2011 show. Continuing this month’s 5 Fri Q run of notable Seattle playwrights, Rawley joined me for this week’s installment.

What’s the best performance you’ve seen lately? 

This is a trick question because I just opened a show. If I say, “The best performances? Why the performances in MY show of course!” I sound a little disingenuous. And if I say some other performances then my cast chases me around the room with knives.

But here is the truth. One truly great performance for me this past weekend was turned in by Jessamyn Bateman-Lino. She is the assistant stage manager for Live! From The Last Night of My Life. She runs our backstage before during and after every performance. She is a tireless, rock solid support to the show. She was at every single rehearsal, she helps keep the hundreds of moving parts backstage greased and spinning, the entrances happening, the play moving forward. She sets up before the show and leads the clean up after. We could not do Live! From The Last Night of My Life without her and she does it night after night, flawlessly.

The best performance this weekend you didn’t see. Even if you did. Crazy, right? So you are going to have to trust me. It truly is a sight to not behold.

What’s the best meal in Seattle?

One Word. Med Kitch. Two words actually, but each cut in half to equal one word. It’s the insider way to say Mediterranean Kitchen (I made that up). On Boren just north of Madison. My favorite food in the city that is not a Dick’s burger. That scream you heard back in 2005 and you didn’t know what it was but it sounded close? That was me living in Los Angeles learning that their original Queen Anne location had closed. But they have been back for a while now and if you love garlic, you should stop whatever you are doing and go get some shwarma. Or the Farmers Plate, which is chicken wings covered in a sauce so good we must not speak of it. If you don’t love garlic, well then, you’ve got bigger problems than I can help you with.

What music gets you pumped up? What do you listen to when you’re sad?

The first thing I do when I think I have something I want to work on is make a playlist. I have lots of playlists. I’ve been listening to a lot of disco lately. I like disco because it is the music of people who feel very strongly that they are sexy and yet may or may not actually be sexy. For the last year I’ve had this idea for a play in my head and I don’t have a clue about what it is except for a vision of the poster that says the play’s title (I don’t know) and right under the title it says “Now with 75% more DISCO!” I can’t wait until it’s written so I can stop listening to so much disco.

When I’m sad I listen to The Wailin’ Jennys’ cover of Neil Young’s “Old Man.” Female voices singing in harmony take my eyes to the sky.

What’s the ideal setting for writing a play?

Right before it is due is always the most ideal setting for writing a play. Beyond that, there is not any such thing. Not anymore. If I’m going to write, it’s got to be whenever I can, wherever I am. 4 a.m. On the train. Any coffee shop with an empty outlet and some type of sausage breakfast sandwich.

I do a lot of writing on my bike commute. I wrote this paragraph on my bike. I forgot the rest of it, but it was very insightful.

What’s the most useful thing anyone’s ever taught you about working in theatre?

A dear friend and teacher, Judith Weston, taught me, “There is no Passive Income.” That means that in the theater, if you want it to work, you have to be there. And be there. And be there. You can’t write it and walk away.

Oh, and “Play Your Pain.” August Wilson taught me that. (Pause. Removes hat.)

Five Friday Questions with Scot Augustson

Scot Augustson is a playwright and creator of Seattle’s favorite adult shadow puppet troupe, Sgt. Rigsby and His Amazing Silhouettes. He’s also an alumnus of the Seattle Rep Writers Group and a member of Printer’s Devil Theatre and the Sandbox Artists Collective.

Augustson is always working on something surprising, from a play about John Considine, a theatre producer who shot and killed Seattle’s chief of police in 1901, to an e-book of his short fiction illustrated by local artists (coming out this Spring after a successful Kickstarter campaign). This fall he’ll be producing a new Sgt. Rigsby shadow puppet show at Theatre Off Jackson entitled Gaslight, Neon and the Moon.

Keeping with this month’s 5 Fri Q spotlight on playwrights (check out the last one with scribe Kelleen Conway Blanchard), Augustson joins me for this week’s installment.

What’s the best performance you’ve seen lately?

I was utterly charmed and taken in by David Nixon’s short film Bladfold. I told him I wished I could get the memory out of my brain so that I could watch it again for the first time. Oh, and Pony World’s We Are Proud to Present…[running through April 4 at New City Theatre] Oh, jeez, the ending is just…you know, just go see it.

Best performance in the real world I’ve seen lately: yesterday I saw a bus driver give a homeless woman a banana and without missing a beat she held it up to her ear and said, “Hello? Hello?”

What’s the best meal in Seattle?

There’s a no-name taco truck just south of Top Hat. They make delicious food. It’s in the parking lot of an abandoned building that used to be an Albertson’s. I once saw a fist fight in broad daylight in that parking lot while waiting for a quesadilla.

If you go about two miles down the road toward Burien there’s a Thai restaurant in what used to be an International House of Pancakes. And yes, locals call it the Thai Hop. They make a yummy dish called Swimming Tiger. (Which, relax, it’s just chicken, not tiger. In general, carnivores don’t make for good eating.) That said, don’t make a special trip to eat at these places. Top Hat and Burien are to be avoided.

What music gets you pumped? What do you listen to when you’re sad?
I’m not a big music guy. I’d rather listen to eavesdropped conversations on the bus. But I wish there was something called GUAC, a GWAR cover band sponsored by the California Avocado Growers Association, or Band Geddes, a group that performs songs inspired by the work of photographer Anne Geddes. I would listen to either of these all the time if they were real.

I don’t listen to music at all when I am writing. When I’m making shadow puppets I like to put on Philip Glass or Meatloaf’s Bat out of Hell.

When I’m sad? Who has time to be sad?! I’m never sad, but if I were I’d listen to Leonard Cohen and Tom Waits and Joni Mitchell and Nancy Griffith’s Dust Bowl Symphony.  But like I said, Sad? I don’t even know what that means.

What’s the ideal setting for writing a play?

Completely alone. Fairly quiet, but a little world noise drifting in is fine. Big windows, at least the second floor, but higher up is good. And I love to write when I travel (which I have not done enough of lately).

You know that room in that Gustav Caillebotte painting with the shirtless guys scraping the floor? That would be the place.

What’s the most useful thing anyone has ever taught you about working in theatre?

I don’t know if there has been one great thing. I haven’t really had a mentor—I think I am too much of an asshole to attract a mentor. But, I’ve gotten a lot of little bits of wisdom from thousands of people over the years.

For example, here’s a story that I can tell you now that it’s legal: Back in 2001 at the old Consolidated Works we were doing my show Why? Why? Why? We put the audience on pillows inside of a tent and a shadow puppet show went on all around them. One night we had the super secret invite-only marijuana performance where the attendees could smoke dope during the show. 

About ten seconds after the show started the people started giggling. They were the easiest crowd in the history of the world.

Tim Gouran leaned over to fellow actor Susanna Burney and said, “They’ll laugh at anything.”

She put a hand on his shoulder and said, “Yes, but let’s not count on that.” 

Five Friday Questions with Kelleen Conway Blanchard

Kelleen Conway Blanchard is a playwright with a penchant for the creepy and monstrous side of humanity. Her work has been produced at Annex Theatre, Pony World, Seattle Playwright’s Collective, the 14/48 Festival, FringeACT and many others. Her 2012 femme-sploitation women’s prison takeoff Kittens in a Cage received rave reviews and spawned an acclaimed webseries. Her well-received gothic comedy Blood Countess premiered at Annex last fall. 

Blanchard is constantly generating new work that prominently features strong women and lurid circumstances. Look for her play Blonde with the Wind, currently in development, featuring Keira McDonald as Scarlett O’Hara trapped in a modern-day mental hospital. Blanchard joined me for this week’s installment of Five Friday Questions.

What’s the best performance you’ve seen lately?

Did you see the last 14/48 Festival?  In case you haven’t been, they ask writers, actors, directors, musicians and tech people to come together and make 14 new plays in 48 hours. It’s always insane and spectacular and terrifying for all of the artists. But fear is good for art. And in 14/48, the fear is right on you all of the time, holding your hand, snarling in your ear. That terror makes good theater. This last fest had three perfect moments or rather, series of moments. Little flashes of perfect:

  1. James Weidman as a blithely accepting cannibal on a sinking rowboat in a short play by Scotto Moore.
  2. Jennifer Jasper as an unwitting cult member who ends up drenched in blood in a short play by Maggie Lee. (I’m a sucker for anything drenched in blood.)
  3. Jason Marr as a big stupid cat being seduced by a small dog in a short play by Scot Augustson.

What’s the best meal in Seattle?
I have three.

  1. A slice of pepperoni from Hot Mama’s Pizza on Pine.  Cheesy, greasy, perfect and not $1000. I know! It’s on Pine and it’s real and good and not a complete rip-off. Unbelievable.
  2. Gyros from Zaina’s in the market. I can’t describe the deliciousness. I can’t. While I’m eating it, I say nothing. I make moany noises. You will too.
  3. Dim sum at Jade Garden. Holy crap! The walnut honey prawns. I dream about them. I’m dreaming about them right now. You think you’ll just want three. No. You’ll want six. Then, that will be too much. But what is too much, really? Life is a cold grasping claw. Eat your prawns while you can.

What music gets you pumped up? What do you listen to when you’re sad?

I always say that I’m not musical so I’m not forced into boring music conversations with people that really want to talk B-sides. And I don’t know B-sides. Truth is a lot of my music love was beaten out of me by cool older sister. She shamed me for my intense love of disco and soft rock. I’m working through it.

But I’ll go ahead and say that when I need to get pumped up—which isn’t that often because I have anxiety so I’m technically always pumped up in a hyperventilating-on-public-transportation kind of way—I pump up with Korean pop ladies. My wife and roomie both listen to a lot of Korean pop music. Sometimes I hide from it because a lot of it sounds like drunks at closing time but with synthesizers and, weirdly, saxophone. But these kick ass ladies always make me happy.

I don’t know why. I know why. It’s the sassiness. I love the sassiness.

When I’m sad nothing beats Dolly Parton and Loretta Lynn. They know me. Working nine to five? Yes I am, Dolly. What a way to make a living. Yeah. Fist City. Mmmmhmmm. Yep, Loretta. I know some people needing a punch.

What’s the ideal setting for writing a play?

In a subsidized luxury hotel. That would be the best. Let’s work that out.  But lacking that ideal situation, which again would be great, usually I write in my tiny chaotic apartment with my family playing video games and trying to talk to me and also use the computer and somehow I like that.

What’s the most useful thing anyone ever taught you about working in theater?

When I was a kid I had this phase where I started writing mean letters to people. Really mean ones. I don’t know why. Deep down, I’m a terrible person, probably. I’m not sneaky though, so I got caught and my father gave me this advice, “Never put anything in writing. That’s how they get you, kid.”

And it’s true. When you write something it gains in power. Calling someone a turd is one thing, writing an essay about why exactly they are a turd and all the turdy things they are in detail is something much more. And that’s why I’m a writer. Because it is something bigger.

Can I have two useful things? The other one is just this, and I don’t know who taught it to me, probably everybody: Being in theater or any art saves your life. Over and over again. For lots of reasons. The community of artists, the pleasure of creation. But mostly because when something awful happens you don’t think, “Oh no. It’s all over.” You think, “Wow. That’s terrible. How can I use it? What will I make out of it?” And that saves your life.

Five Friday Questions with Elizabeth Klob

Elizabeth Klob is a director, designer, performer and teacher who’s been making ambitious work in Seattle since the early 90s. You might’ve experienced her artistic direction last November at ACT with UMO Ensemble’s Fail Better: Beckett Moves UMO, a compelling piece of physical theatre incorporating a giant teeter totter, pulleys, ropes and juggling. (It was raved on by last week’s 5 Fri Q subject, Emily Penick.) UMO returns to ACT next month with more Beckett-inspired physical conundrums under Klob’s direction.

In addition to her work with UMO, Klob co-owns and designs for Cicada Bridal and teaches movement at Freehold Theatre Institute. I caught up with her via email from her home on Vashon Island for this week’s installment of Five Friday Questions.

What’s the best performance you’ve seen lately?

Terry Crane, a rope artist in Acrobatic Conundrum, has a stunning solo piece that he does at the top of the current show they are touring, called The Language of Chance. His physical skill is breathtaking, but also his ability to make the rope disappear, so you are just watching him deal with what he is hearing and feeling, floating in the air. Beautiful fluidity and clarity at the same time. Pretty mesmerizing.  (Catch it when they come back to Seattle in May at the end of their West Coast tour!) 

Second was Birdman. Such an amazing send-up of the theatre world, with such stunning performances and the application of magical realism into that Times Square atmosphere was just surreal. 

And finally, because I am also a designer, I just have to say that the set of The Three Sisters, John Langs’s production at ACT, was just amazing. The whole production was moving, but the set just really took my breath away visually.

What’s the best meal in Seattle?

That sort of depends on my mood and the money that I have in my pocket. When I want a great meal, no questions asked: Buddha Ruksa in West Seattle, just amazing Thai food.  When I have a small amount in my pocket and am running to the Vashon ferry and am driving through White Center, Taqueria Guaymas has the best fish tacos in town. When I need to feel like I am in a different place, a different country preferably, I make my way up to Le Pichet on First Ave. I can practice my French and have an amazing meal all at once.

What music gets you pumped up? What do you listen to when you’re sad?

I am currently loving alt-J. They have a new album out that is rocking my world, This is All Yours.  That with a little Radiohead mixed in makes the perfect Pandora cocktail. 

When I need to get out of my head and into my body, it is Portland-based Beats Antique. I cannot stay still when that music is going.  When I am sad, nothing will do like Annie Lennox; powerful woman, powerful voice.

What sunny weather activity are you most looking forward to?

Gardening!  I am a self-described Type A personality. I usually have no less than five plates spinning in the air: directing and running UMO, designing for my shop downtown, Cicada, family. Gardening is therapy for me. Hands in the soil is my happy place. I think a study just came out linking a Prozac-like component to soil that makes you happy when you garden. Duh.

What’s the most useful thing anyone’s ever taught you about working in theatre?

First is that theater is just storytelling. Nothing more, nothing less. It is our human story told live. I like to remember that when I am in a tech that is eight hours behind and the light board has just lost all the cues. 

Second thing that is paramount to me in making theater and that I learned from the UMO Ensemble is trust. In making collaborative art, if deep trust and respect is not present within the creative ensemble, the work is not complete, it is not whole. It is a collection of disparate parts. When real trust is given in the creative process, the work can be profound.

Five Friday Questions with Emily Penick

Emily Penick is a director, choreographer and artistic associate at ACT. Born in California and raised in New Jersey with an MFA in directing from Ohio University, she’s worked all over, from DC to New York to Milwaukee. She currently calls Seattle her home, and this year she’s directed readings at New Century Theatre CompanyNorthwest Playwrights Alliance, and the Young Playwrights Festival as well as associate directing alongside John Langs on Mary’s WeddingA Christmas CarolBethany, and Seven Ways to Get There (running through March 15 at ACT). She’s currently choreographing Café Nordo’s Don Nordo Del Midwest (check out Jonathan Zwickel’s feature about the show over at City Arts) and associate directing Seattle Shakespeare’s upcoming Othello.

Penick is loaded up with projects well into the future, including the launch of ACTLab’s 2016 season next February with The Lover, a Pinter one-act that will be accompanied by live jazz and Café Nordo’s delectable food and cocktails. Penick took time out to join me for this week’s installment of Five Friday Questions.

What’s the best performance you’ve seen lately? 

UMO Ensemble’s FAIL BETTER rocked my world. I saw it three times. I am a huge physical theatre and Beckett nerd. What the brilliant UMO Ensemble created in FAIL BETTER embodied all that I love about Beckett. It was delightful spending an hour with their unique cast of deeply human and hilariously tragic characters. The impressive live-mixed sound design and playground of a set were integral to the theatrical experience.

UMO used the architecture of the theatre in playful and surprising ways. And sure, it’s gloriously absurd to have a massive teeter-totter on stage, but when you see those dear clowns struggling to balance on it with each other you can’t help but recognize that very sensation in your own life. We’re all fools struggling for balance. Sometimes our efforts are virtuosic and impressive, and other times our efforts are hilariously pathetic. I loved FAIL BETTER, and I’m so glad we’ll be hosting them again at ACT this spring. They are definitely back by popular demand. 

What’s the best meal in Seattle?

This little Ethiopian place, Meskel. I love to take a friend and share their lamb in berbere sauce with the veggie combo. It’s a very social food, eating off the same plate, with your hands. Wherever I make theatre I search out the best Ethiopian food in town. DC, NYC, even Milwaukee.

When I was getting my MFA in directing, a dear friend and wonderful playwright, Bianca Sams, taught me how to make injera and several Ethiopian dishes from scratch. That cooking lesson was worth a master’s in its own right. Delicious. There’s really nothing like a fresh spongy sourdough bread and bold spicy dish complemented by some home-brewed honey wine. 

What music gets you pumped up? What do you listen to when you’re sad?

This is embarrassing. Gwen Stefani’s “Hollaback Girl” is my guilty pleasure if I need to get pumped up to pitch a show. If I’m about to host a party or go out, I’ll put on funk. Bill Withers’s “Use Me” is a favorite. If I’m sad, I’ll spend a little time with my beloved Talking Heads listening to “This Must Be the Place” or “And She Was.”  

Do you have any opening night rituals?

Thank you notes!! Always, always. And usually a whiskey toast. I also love not wearing my glasses at opening. After a week of tech and previews, taking my glasses off is the final test, to see if the play works as a whole. One big blurry story-telling whole. 

What’s the most useful thing anyone’s ever taught you about working in theatre?

All great art comes from trust. That wasn’t so much a spelled-out lesson as one I gathered from working with friends and mentors.

The most useful straight-up tip I ever got was: Don’t be an asshole to anyone. Chances are the girl who helped you with your quick-change in undergrad, or the shy little board op from your high school theater will one day be running the Rep or be in a position to give you a job. Assume everyone around you is bound for greatness, and treat each other well.

Five Friday Questions with Annie Lareau

Annie Lareau has been directing theatre for the past twenty years. She’s served as the director of touring productions for Book-It with over fifteen shows at the helm, and more recently she directed the touring productions of Romeo and Juliet and Macbeth for Seattle Shakes. Last year she served as interim artistic director for ArtsWest, where she directed the acclaimed production of The Little Dog Laughed, and where next month she’ll direct David Henry Hwang’s Chinglish. Lareau stays busy. I caught up with her for this week’s installment of Five Friday Questions.

What’s the best performance you’ve seen lately? 

I was lucky enough to attend the opening of a play called Disgraced by Ayad Ahktar on Broadway. Some of his other work has been premiered here in Seattleas well. What struck me about this play was all of the difficult questions about identity, race and ultimately human nature that it dares to ask unapologetically.

The performances were tremendous and powerful, each with its own storyline that lived in a very grey world where each character had darkness and well as light. It is the kind of play that leaves you thinking and struggling with your own biases and preconceptions and that kind of thought provoking theatre is right up my alley. Plus, I LOVED seeing such a diverse cast on stage. Such a rarity and it shouldn’t be.

What’s the best meal in Seattle?

I have a particular fondness for Bizarro in Wallingford. Love its funky ambience and the food and wine are amazing. Their seasonal ravioli at the moment is to die for. Plus it is run by another local artist, Jodi-Paul Wooster, and I love the chance to support other artists in their other passions. 

What music gets you pumped up? What do you listen to when you’re sad?

Macklemore or Alicia Keys. When I am sad, I like a good Patti Griffin ballad. 

What sunny weather activity are you most looking forward to?

I am looking forward to drinks and lounging with friends on my back porch as well as dusting off my kayak and perhaps having enough time to get out on the water this year. On particularly hot nights, I love a late night dip in Lake Washington after rehearsals when time allows. 

What’s the most useful thing anyone’s ever taught you about working in theatre?

I had a wonderful professor in college who once told me two things that I live by in working with the theatre. The first was to always ask yourself before you take a job in the theatre if it fulfills two out of three of the following: Does it fulfill you artistically and push you to be better? Does it advance your career and get your more exposure to those who might hire you in the future? Does it pay the bills? If the job can fulfill two of those things, then take it. If not, think hard and long before you commit.

The same professor also told me to never spend my entire life in a theatre and only surrounded by theatre people. Go out and experience things outside your circle. If you don’t you will never have any material from which to draw from when you are immersed in the theatre.

Going to the Opera With Grandma: ‘Semele’

I used to naively assume that all operas were the same. If you don’t get around to seeing too many operas, you might have a similar generalization in mind: people in costumes singing old stories on stage in foreign languages with crazy opera voices. Classy, impenetrable stuff. Having just watched my third opera for this column, however, it finally dawned on me just how incredibly varied these things can be. Don Giovanni was an absurd sexual morality tale. Tosca was an intimate, emotional piece of historical tragedy. Then comes Handel’s Semele, and now anything seems possible. 

Two things must be stated up front. First of all, Seattle Opera’s Semele is crazy. It’s a weird story to begin with because it’s about Roman gods, and everything those guys did was perplexing. Added to that, it’s filtered through the specific sensibilities of mid-18th century England. But it’s the way Seattle Opera stages this rarely done piece that truly makes it unique. Spare, modernist sets couple with the extensive use of digital projections and truly outrageous costume designs (two words: laser fingers) left my jaw hanging open for much of the show’s three and a half hour running time.

Which brings me to my second point: I was nursing a particularly harsh head cold, so I was blitzed on over-the-counter medication during the whole show. This was not in any way detrimental to my enjoyment, but it might have been a bit detrimental to my level of comprehension.  

Fortunately, at my side as usual was my trusty opera expert and grandmother, Evelyn Troughten, who talked me through the experience in the intermission after each act. 

 Act 1

So, Juno’s mad. Semele is sleeping with Juno’s husband? Is that what’s going on?

Yes! Yes.

And that’s Jupiter.

Yes! That’s Jupiter.

Juno is Jupiter’s wife.

Yes.

This is your classic “Mortal sleeps with God and God’s wife gets mad at mortal” thing. That never works out well for the mortal.

True. Why else are they gods? What you want to do before the day is over is go down and look at the instruments. [Author’s note: no edit here. This was a natural, if abrupt, shift in the conversation that’s not at all unusual with my grandmother] They have a virginal and they have a harpsichord, and they have an instrument that’s a bass lute. The virginal is a smaller version of a harpsichord and the reason it’s called a virginal is because it was played by young girls who theoretically or maybe actually were virgins.

Theoretically? Well, one would hope.

One never knows! So you should go down and take a look, these are very rare instruments. You may never see them again. Well, harpsichords you see around quite a bit.

I see harpsichords constantly! This opera is very simplistic and very complex at the same time. I only have a vague idea of what’s going on at any point.

You see, I know because I read about it. And I went to that talk, the pre-performance at the Queen Anne library. The opera also has a blog and they put information out and you can read about these things. The ideal is to familiarize yourself with the story so that you understand what’s going on.

I’d never seen opening credits for an opera before.

I’ve never seen anything like that before! Anywhere. That’s what surprised me the most. You’ve got this curtain hanging. You’ve seen curtains before and you think nothing of it. And then all of a sudden “Semele” is projected on there. And I thought, “Wow, this is different.” And then: people. The cast! You’d see the real person on stage, and above them, their names and the character they play projected on the curtain! I don’t know how they did it, but it was clever! That’s what I liked best. Because it was different. I like different things.

I kind of forgot where I was with some of those trippy projected visuals. Which is fine, because I can’t tell what’s going on anyways. I’m just listening to the music and voices.

Well, you remind me of what it was like when I first started going to the opera. They didn’t have the supertitles. I’d just listen to the music because it was so gorgeous, didn’t have a clue what they were saying.

Act 2

At this point we were fortunate to be joined by Jonathan Dean, the director of public programs and media for the Seattle Opera, who gave us a bit of historical context for the piece.

Dean: Most of the action of the story is in the final act. That’s why it’s longer. When this was written, a lot of people couldn’t show up at the theater at the beginning of the show. They’d come later on, and they didn’t pay any attention. That’s one of the reasons people repeat themselves so much in this show. You were sort of lucky if you got the audience to pay attention.

So the repetition is literally just to get it through to people?

Dean: Yeah, the opera was a very different place back then. It was much more like going to a casino. And these people would step out in these elaborate costumes and sing these amazing things and the people would be like, “Oh, okay, this is pretty good.” There’s a very funny one in the next act, the line is “Myself I shall adore if I persist in gazing” and he overdoes it to the point of stupefaction! [Note: Indeed!] The other thing about it is, it’s an ancient story, but it’s satire for a specific period: the first half of the 1700s. There are funny, coded messages that they would’ve gotten at the time.

I can tell that there’s all kinds of stuff that I’m missing. If only there were footnotes for opera!

Dean: Well, you could’ve come to our pre-show talk—

Grandma: I tried to get him to come to that and told him that’s part of going to the opera!

It’s okay! The projected visuals are working pretty well for me, because I’m on cough medicine, so I’m kind of in a trance looking at this stuff.

Dean: Well, that’s actually sort of like—because again, when people would go to the theater back in those days, they were drinking heavily, they were gambling. If they had a private box, they could close the drapes and carry on their illicit affair in there.

It was rowdy.

Dean: Yeah, it wasn’t polite like it is going to an opera today. It was a little bit more upscale than bear-baiting, which was going on across the street!

Act 3

Give me a quick first impression of this opera.

The production was just out of… they said it was going to be great and really different, but I could never have thought that it could have been so good.

What was your favorite part?

There’s no favorite part. Because it was all good and the music was lovely.

My favorite part was the lady with the laser fingers.

Well yeah. I suppose so.

I’m a sucker for laser fingers.

I guess you have to say that was the most fun part. Her costume was great. I’d heard about these costumes, and I’d seen drawings of them, but the drawings didn’t do them justice. And it was good that they used people that looked like the kind of people that the opera was about. Somebody that a god would fall in love with.

Closing thoughts? What would a person going to see this piece need to know, aside from having an extensive background in Greek mythology?

I would say that it’s the most unusual opera I have ever seen. For many reasons. The projections. The opening credits. The repetition in the libretto. I would say that it’s nice music, and even beautiful in some places. And you’ll hate yourself if you don’t go see it. I don’t know if any other opera company would be bold enough to do it.

That’s a pretty good one to go out on.


Semele runs through March 7 at the Seattle Opera.

Five Friday Questions with Kaytlin McIntyre

Kaytlin McIntyre is a Kansas City-bred theatre director whose most recent work, the well-receivedworld premiere Zapoi! At Annex (written by previous 5 Fri Q’er Quinn Armstrong) runs through February 21 (tomorrow). She’s also the literary and casting associate at the Seattle Rep, where she started as an intern back in 2011. She handles casting and new play development like the Writer’s Group (showcase June 12-21) and Justin Huertas’ upcoming indie-musical Lizard Boy (opening April Fools Day).

I caught up with McIntyre via email at a national college theatre convention in Ellensburg for this installment of Five Friday Questions.  

What’s the best performance you’ve seen lately?

Now I’m Fine at On the Boards in December left me totally undone. To this day I have trouble articulating that particular emotional catharsis, so I’ll throw you some adjectives: hypnotic, heartbreaking, seductive, disastrous, hopeful.

On the topic of hope, a year ago I was in Myanmar and happened across a political rally featuring Aung San Suu Kyi, winner of the Nobel Peace Prize and possible president. My Burmese is a bit rusty so I understood little, but she had more poise and command than anyone I’ve witnessed in front of a microphone. I could compare it to a 2008 Obama speech, but that doesn’t do it justice. For some of the faces in the crowd—faces that have lived under a brutal military dictatorship—this was like watching Nelson Mandela speak in post-Apartheid Africa. She is source of national pride and optimism. Most Burmese refer to her reverently as “the lady”.

What’s the best meal in Seattle?

I was born with no sense of smell, which means my taste buds have the sophistication of an eleven year old at Dairy Queen. If it’s excessively sweet or excessively salty, I’m probably on board. That being said, the blasted broccoli at Black Bottle in Belltown has rearranged my whole relationship to broccoli. That is some air-brushed, underwear model, pornographic kind of broccoli. It sets unrealistic expectations for vegetables everywhere.

What music gets you pumped up? What do you listen to when you’re sad?

Sleater-Kinney’s decade hiatus was worth the wait. “Price Tag,” in particular, is a scorcher. It pumps me up for kicking ass and staging mutinies.

I just bought Tracy Chapman’s self-titled at a vinyl record convention in Eugene last weekend. The yearning is almost unbearable, if you’re not sad when you start it, you will be by the time you hear “be someone, be someone, be someone…”

What sunny weather activity are you most looking forward to?

Despite all my better adult judgments, I just dropped the big bucks for Sasquatch at the Gorge. I’m typically a stingy killjoy with a “sale-bin-at-Grocery Outlet” frugality but I’ve never been to a music festival and feel as if my Seattle membership is pending until I make this commitment. And, once again, I can’t smell so that eliminates a lot of the carnal discomforts of sweating it out to Gogol Bordello with the Evergreen freshman class.

I’m also getting married this summer, which is exciting. Maybe I should have led with that?

What’s the most useful thing anyone’s ever taught you about working in theatre?

Anyone can take a car apart, but few people can put one together. It’s pretty easy to pick out flaws, but takes a bit of skill to find what works and what the right parts are that just need proper assembly.

I’ve also learned a valuable lesson from Erin Kraft and the late, great Jerry Manning about the power of emergency desk whiskey.

Five Friday Questions with Christopher Morson

Christopher Morson is an actor and Cornish grad who’s playing the lead role of Ray Midge in the world premiere of The Dog of the South, opening tomorrow at Book-It and running through March 8. He also played Huck in Book-It’s well-received 2013 production, Adventures of Huckleberry Finn: Uncensored. More recently, he played Speed in Seattle Shakespeare’s Wooden O production of The Two Gentlemen of Verona and Sebastian in their mainstage production of Twelfth Night.

With final rehearsals underway for The Dog of the South, Morson took time out of his hectic schedule to join me for this week’s edition of Five Friday Questions.

What’s the best performance you’ve seen lately?

I’ve been watching the first season of Saturday Night Live, which I had never seen before. John Belushi, Dan Akroyd, Gilda Radner: Brilliant! There are two specific performances that have stood out thus far. The first would be Belushi singing “A Little Help From My Friends” with Joe Cocker and the second is him standing up to Rob Reiner about how the best they could come up with is “BEES!” Those are performances that I could watch over and over. Can’t wait to watch the rest of Season One! 

Seattle theater scene: Jack Willis as LBJ in All the Way and The Great Society.

What’s the best meal in Seattle?

The best meal in Seattle is Purple Cafe & Wine Bar downtown. Not only is the food spectacular and the ambience perfect but every meal can be paired with a wine, from appetizers to dessert. My Italian roots are so happy anytime I go there. Good food and wine, what else do you need? (Also they have the most attractive staff.)

What music gets you pumped up? What do you listen to when you’re sad?

My pump up jam is “The Impression That I Get” by The Mighty Mighty Bosstones, a ska-core band from Boston. Dicky Barrett’s vocals are insane! My morning wake up jam since high school has been “Good Morning” by Kanye West. Yes, Kanye is a douche but his album Graduation got me through a lot. 

“Your Hand in Mine” by Explosions in the Sky is my sad song. That whole album, The Earth Is Not A Cold Dead Place, really makes me feel… things. With its brooding, ominous melodies building into crashing climaxes. It brings back good memories and inspiration to get me through anything. 

Do you have any opening night rituals?

Not really any specific opening night rituals, but I do have rituals. Any time I enter the theatre I “greet the space.”  I literally walk into the theater and yell “HELLO SPACE!” as if it is a living thing. I figure if I’m nice to the space it will be nice to me in return. Also, just before the show starts I go and sit in random seats in the house and just look at the set. I try to imagine what people will be seeing. 

What’s the most useful thing anyone’s ever taught you about working in theatre?

Awareness and redemption. Every performance should be better than the last. If something doesn’t go right in performance you have the next one to get it right. Every time you visit a show you can go deeper, find something new and be refreshed in the world of the play, all the way until closing weekend. I continually look at my script until the very last show. Thank you, Jim Gall