Tuesday, January 24, 2012
Friday, November 25, 2011
Ghetto Babylon
I saw a show the other night that was excellent. Usually I just tweet when something is good but this one deserves more than 140 characters. It's a shame it only ran the 20th through the 23rd, but so it goes. It was Dramatic Question Theatre's production of Ghetto Babylon by Michael Mejias and it was performed in the Huron Club downstairs at the Soho Playhouse. If you've ever been, you know it's a small space. Well, the joint was packed the night I went. I don't know the exact number but I'd be surprised if there were less than 90 people there.
Take that, fire marshalls who don't have time machines!
What I loved most about this play was that it was about people I really cared about and that they took audience with them during the whole ride. It's set in the early '80s in the South Bronx, the summer before three close friends began high school. They're on a baseball team on its first run to the Bronx-wide championship and things could fall apart any minute. Practically speaking, this means you have actors approximately twice the age of the characters working in a small space and acting out events in several games. Between Michael's script and the solid work of the actors this was not only possible but damn exciting. There were several genuine moments when the audience gasped and cheered as if they were really at a baseball game.
The cast was comprised of actors with diverse backgrounds, which made the relationships all the richer. Alejandro Rodriguez had the lion's share of the work with mountains of monologues in his role as the team's pitcher who lost his mom and might be leaving the Bronx. Alejandro has a real gift for bringing together his character's inner and outer realities while relating to the audience all at once. Alexis Suarez brought empathy and humor to the tough character Spec, who seemed to be aware that this summer was the best it would be for him for many years to come. Malik Ali had a grace and joy in his role of Felix, the third of this trio. He was often caught between the other characters and it was really interesting seeing him deal with tricky situations. Talia Marrero was an angelic-yet-realistic counterpoint to the guys. The relationship between her Sarafina and Charlie could have been its own play but instead added more to the bigger story of the three friends with each new scene. And Brian Miskell did the neat trick of bringing a fictional character to life. So much so, you'd think he really came out of the book. I even caught myself thinking, "wow, that's what that guy is really like." (I won't say which one here.)
Holy cow, the script was excellent. It is obvious lots of time had been poured into this. The characters speak both intelligently but with the feel of their age and place. It has real laugh out loud moments but also socks you in that damn-life-can-suck place. The whole thing pulled off that nearly impossible thing of being chock full of craft for the theater geeks to appreciate but being so accessible that anyone off the street would be as engaged as if they were seeing Game 7 of a close World Series. You know when you see a movie or read a book and you feel you have become friends with the people in it? You get that sadness that it's over and you can't talk to them in real life? I hardly ever get that in the theater but I did the night I saw this show.
Why can't this be what sets up shop in the Westside Theater for all the tourists to see and say, "wow, I saw some REAL New York theater" when they go back home? I'd like to have this play, Robert Askin's Hand to God, and something by Parallel Exit take over a building devoted to long-running off-Broadway work.
#thingsIsawbutyouprobablydidnotandthatisarealdamnshamebutkeepyoureyesopenincasetheydo
Take that, fire marshalls who don't have time machines!
What I loved most about this play was that it was about people I really cared about and that they took audience with them during the whole ride. It's set in the early '80s in the South Bronx, the summer before three close friends began high school. They're on a baseball team on its first run to the Bronx-wide championship and things could fall apart any minute. Practically speaking, this means you have actors approximately twice the age of the characters working in a small space and acting out events in several games. Between Michael's script and the solid work of the actors this was not only possible but damn exciting. There were several genuine moments when the audience gasped and cheered as if they were really at a baseball game.
The cast was comprised of actors with diverse backgrounds, which made the relationships all the richer. Alejandro Rodriguez had the lion's share of the work with mountains of monologues in his role as the team's pitcher who lost his mom and might be leaving the Bronx. Alejandro has a real gift for bringing together his character's inner and outer realities while relating to the audience all at once. Alexis Suarez brought empathy and humor to the tough character Spec, who seemed to be aware that this summer was the best it would be for him for many years to come. Malik Ali had a grace and joy in his role of Felix, the third of this trio. He was often caught between the other characters and it was really interesting seeing him deal with tricky situations. Talia Marrero was an angelic-yet-realistic counterpoint to the guys. The relationship between her Sarafina and Charlie could have been its own play but instead added more to the bigger story of the three friends with each new scene. And Brian Miskell did the neat trick of bringing a fictional character to life. So much so, you'd think he really came out of the book. I even caught myself thinking, "wow, that's what that guy is really like." (I won't say which one here.)
Holy cow, the script was excellent. It is obvious lots of time had been poured into this. The characters speak both intelligently but with the feel of their age and place. It has real laugh out loud moments but also socks you in that damn-life-can-suck place. The whole thing pulled off that nearly impossible thing of being chock full of craft for the theater geeks to appreciate but being so accessible that anyone off the street would be as engaged as if they were seeing Game 7 of a close World Series. You know when you see a movie or read a book and you feel you have become friends with the people in it? You get that sadness that it's over and you can't talk to them in real life? I hardly ever get that in the theater but I did the night I saw this show.
Why can't this be what sets up shop in the Westside Theater for all the tourists to see and say, "wow, I saw some REAL New York theater" when they go back home? I'd like to have this play, Robert Askin's Hand to God, and something by Parallel Exit take over a building devoted to long-running off-Broadway work.
#thingsIsawbutyouprobablydidnotandthatisarealdamnshamebutkeepyoureyesopenincasetheydo
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
25 Cents
I try to be very careful putting mine together. This morning, I pulled 4 paper binders of different colors for my manuscripts. After punching the holes into the plays several hours later, I noticed the yellow one felt fuzzier. As I closed it, I noticed the price tag pictured above. Somehow, I've had that binder with me since childhood and never used it.
I was tempted to write a note on the back of it with a list of the places I've lived since I got it. Easily more than 20 in all. Or to rip it off. Part of me thought I should run to Staples to replace it.
But I put the scruffy and slightly blotched binder in with the 3 pristine ones and sealed them in a priority envelope. I then saw the whole thing get chucked into a tub through the slot for large envelopes at Farley Post Office. No going back now.
Sometimes done is better than not done and shooting for perfect. I hope the reader sees the tag and wonders about its journey. I still do.
Thursday, October 13, 2011
Current Conditions
Tires sizzle on the wet avenue 6 floors below. I was down but now I'm up. Took day medicine instead of night medicine. An A (or maybe a D) train grumbles and chugs smoothly along. No garbage or recycling pick up in the last couple of hours. When I walked up to the building at 10, a man was laying on the sidewalk. A fire truck and an ambulance was emptied of crew to see how he was doing. Two young women giggled and ran back into the bar next door, embarrassed by their concern mutated from their gawking.
I've sneezed more than 40 times since I've been home. Took the day medicine and lay on the floor to release my back from sitting all day. The day flew by with nothing of note happening. Time was like 2 socks stuffed in my ears. Had the first of 3 rehearsals for a staged reading. Wasn't all there. Went from a musty room to a dusty theater on 43rd. Tried not to sneeze or honk my nose. Tried not to be disgusting with the oozing from my right nostril.
"What do think about this play or this character or what's happening or any thoughts at all?"
I feel like the toy deep sea diver in the round helmet at the bottom of the fish tank. "Mmmm. Stuff. Something. More things. Add. Ha. Ha. Clever. Clever." Wish I could remove my eyes and let them soak in the ocular equivalent of Palmolive.
Some day a young person will ask what the world was like back when and I will show him or her all the episodes of South Park and wish them luck after trying really hard to explain all the references.
My empty stomach grumbles and I know there is cereal on top of the fridge and almond milk inside it but what will I do in a few hours when I wake up? My mouse finger demands attention. "Look what you've done to me," it hisses. "I'm hideous."
A truck beeps and churns back on the other side of the street. Didn't see that coming. All bottles. Must've slept through the guy with the 2 grocery carts pulling cans from the separated bags. Thunk thunk chunk chunk chunk tink tink chunk tink is his tune.
I can't grow a full beard. I'll never grow one. I wonder if that means I won't be fully present in this life. I always thought I was a crossroads person who was living several lives at once but maybe I'm really going through this one incomplete.
Wishing I could hear some snaps after I complete a sentence. Screw it. I'll snap for myself. There. That's better.
Just remembered there's Stella Artois here. 2 sips. Thinking I might as well head into work if I'm going to be up like this. Noon is gonna suck. What does Artois mean? No, don't tell me. I'd rather give it my own meaning.
A flurry of cars and another subway train. This one was local. Here comes an express. Another sneeze? Maybe. Maybe. No. Wait. Maybe. No. Shit. Come on. No. This is disappointing.
The leaves haven't changed yet. And there's the sneeze. I will look like ass tomorrow. People don't say things are like ass much anymore. But a lot of things are.
Going to see my parents for the first time in 3 years in a few days. Then I'm going to meet Aimee's parents for the first time. I'm an adult for crying out loud this shouldn't bother me.
When I get back, I have so much stuff to do. Starting a class, a reading, a clown haunted house, 2 grant applications, 3 plays to be published online. This is good because I feel I haven't chiseled anything into the universe in a bit. Then I need to hunker down and write some big things. Maybe they will be terrible, terrible things but I will write them anyway.
Okay. I'll try this sleep thing again.
I've sneezed more than 40 times since I've been home. Took the day medicine and lay on the floor to release my back from sitting all day. The day flew by with nothing of note happening. Time was like 2 socks stuffed in my ears. Had the first of 3 rehearsals for a staged reading. Wasn't all there. Went from a musty room to a dusty theater on 43rd. Tried not to sneeze or honk my nose. Tried not to be disgusting with the oozing from my right nostril.
"What do think about this play or this character or what's happening or any thoughts at all?"
I feel like the toy deep sea diver in the round helmet at the bottom of the fish tank. "Mmmm. Stuff. Something. More things. Add. Ha. Ha. Clever. Clever." Wish I could remove my eyes and let them soak in the ocular equivalent of Palmolive.
Some day a young person will ask what the world was like back when and I will show him or her all the episodes of South Park and wish them luck after trying really hard to explain all the references.
My empty stomach grumbles and I know there is cereal on top of the fridge and almond milk inside it but what will I do in a few hours when I wake up? My mouse finger demands attention. "Look what you've done to me," it hisses. "I'm hideous."
A truck beeps and churns back on the other side of the street. Didn't see that coming. All bottles. Must've slept through the guy with the 2 grocery carts pulling cans from the separated bags. Thunk thunk chunk chunk chunk tink tink chunk tink is his tune.
I can't grow a full beard. I'll never grow one. I wonder if that means I won't be fully present in this life. I always thought I was a crossroads person who was living several lives at once but maybe I'm really going through this one incomplete.
Wishing I could hear some snaps after I complete a sentence. Screw it. I'll snap for myself. There. That's better.
Just remembered there's Stella Artois here. 2 sips. Thinking I might as well head into work if I'm going to be up like this. Noon is gonna suck. What does Artois mean? No, don't tell me. I'd rather give it my own meaning.
A flurry of cars and another subway train. This one was local. Here comes an express. Another sneeze? Maybe. Maybe. No. Wait. Maybe. No. Shit. Come on. No. This is disappointing.
The leaves haven't changed yet. And there's the sneeze. I will look like ass tomorrow. People don't say things are like ass much anymore. But a lot of things are.
Going to see my parents for the first time in 3 years in a few days. Then I'm going to meet Aimee's parents for the first time. I'm an adult for crying out loud this shouldn't bother me.
When I get back, I have so much stuff to do. Starting a class, a reading, a clown haunted house, 2 grant applications, 3 plays to be published online. This is good because I feel I haven't chiseled anything into the universe in a bit. Then I need to hunker down and write some big things. Maybe they will be terrible, terrible things but I will write them anyway.
Okay. I'll try this sleep thing again.
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