And What Next?

As is its wont, the theatrical blogosphere is full of people getting angry. And that's okay--that's the purpose of theatre blogs: analyzing and decrying the failures of theatre as it is now, explaining how it should be, figuring out what areas need to be fixed, and warning of impending doom.

In this case, the furor has been over this piece by playwright Mat Smart. (I found it through Don Hall's sharp response.)

Both articles are worth reading, but in brief, Smart argues that playwrights fail because of:

our general laziness,
inability to commit,
defeatist attitude,
lack of talent,
and unwillingness to truly listen and change

He says, and Hall amplifies, this basic idea: "Stop complaining about the broken system and start making better work."

I'm not entirely in agreement with this attitude. After all, most systems that are in action today are flawed. I wouldn't say "stop being lazy" to the many victims of our desperately broken economic system, for instance. Laziness didn't sink the economy, boundless greed and nonexistent regulation did. (And while it's tempting to continue that particular rant, I'll stop here.)

So yes, I find that kind of pure "stop complaining and just do it" attitude to be limited, and often lacking in nuance and understanding of circumstances. But there's a whole lot of truth in it. Here's the attitude I'd like to see: After you've diagnosed the problems, focus on what the solutions are and how you can make them happen.

Everyone won't agree on the diagnosis, and everything isn't fixable. But there's certainly a lot you can do.

For example: Leonard Jacobs, of the fascinating, infuriating, and essential Clyde Fitch Report (whose current incarnation has ended due to his acceptance of a wonderful new job, but will hopefully continue under new management soon), was very fond of discusssing the unsustainability of the current arts funding model. Government arts funding is always a target and always shrinking, foundation support is unreliable (and in our current economic situation, also decreasing), and an attitude of entitlement and begging for huge checks won't be enough to keep arts organizations going. He made a good case, and I think a lot of what he says is true. (I haven't studied the issue enough to make a certain statement.)

But the conversation that was all too rare in discussions of the failures of funding models was a look at what a better model would look like, how we'd get from here to there, and what can be done to move that along. There was an awful lot of diagnosis, but very little treatment plan.

This is true of anything in theatre. Of course the rate of new play production is not as high as playwrights would wish it to be. Of course some playwrights get lots of attention and production while other equally good playwrights are comparatively ignored. Of course playwrights who are female and/or non-white don't have an equal playing field. Of course dramaturgs and other collaborators have their own opinions of what would make a play better, and share them. Of course critics don't always get what the play is going for, and don't always like it.

And that's just part of the litany for playwrights--actors, designers, administrators, critics, and audiences have their own long lists.

(By the way, to break my own rule, let me air this dramaturg's complaint: I am tired of people acting as if my profession is made up of uncreative hacks who bastardize precious, beautiful works of art in the pursuit of monetary gain. First off, dramaturgs have less power in the rehearsal room than assistant stage managers. We offer questions and suggestions, but not dictatorial instructions. Second of all, theatre is collaborative. If honest feedback from someone who is smart and cares deeply about the play will destroy the precious flower of your work, then the problem is with the work and/or the thin skin of its creator. Prose authors accept and appreciate editors, and welcome feedback. Why are a few people so very against the work that dramaturgs do? How can they sincerely believe that we're what's wrong with new plays in America? Alright, rant finished.)

To get back on track--the whole list above is accurate to a degree. Some of the items are serious problems, some are just the nature of how things work. (Yes, the primary consideration of a theatre is to do the best work for itself and its audience. The theatre company wouldn't be doing its job if it weren't focused on what's best for the theatre company.) But while there is a value in finding problems, there is more in finding solutions.

And solutions are being found. The National New Play Network has organized dozens of "rolling world premieres", allowing new plays to get multiple productions and avoid the problems of being unproduced after their world premieres. Victory Gardens' Ignition Festival, devoted to developing and producing new works by artists of color under the age of 40, produced The Elaborate Entrance of Chad Deity, which proceeded to sell out, become a finalist for the Pulitzer Prize, and transfer to an Off-Broadway run.

To those who respond, reasonably, that these are institutions and not individuals that are making the changes, I present one more example: Caitlin Montanye Parrish and Erica Weiss. Caitlin is primarily a playwright (in addition to being a critic and more), Erica is primarily a director (in addition to being a dramaturg--who worked on Chad Deity, incidentally--and more). Both happen to be friends of mine. And last month, after years of working together and with others, they hit the jackpot. Caitlin's play A Twist of Water, co-created and directed by Erica, opened in a Route 66 Theatre Company production to excellent reviews, then got excellent publicity due to a visit from Rahm Emanuel. After a nearly sold-out run, it's transferring to an extended run at the Mercury Theatre. Lots of factors intervened to make it the success it has become (and it's wonderful, by the way--you should really check out the Mercury run if you haven't seen it yet), but at the core is two people, believing in their art, working tirelessly, taking advantage of a productive partnership and collaborating with a large group of talented people. There are no guarantees (and nobody can predict runaway hits like that), but it can be done.

I don't say this from a position of perfection--complaint and paralysis in the face of difficulty are long-time plagues of mine, in life and in art. But in the interest of making good art and being happier people, lets broaden our vision: once we've discuss the problems, let's discuss what we can do to solve them. And then let's do it.

Risky New Plays

Some background: a couple of weeks ago, the Goodman opened the world premiere of Rebecca Gilman's A True History of the Johnstown Flood, directed by Goodman artistic director Robert Falls. The response was not particularly strong. Chris Jones, in the Tribune, gave it two stars. The reviews in general were mixed to negative, with some being better than Jones' and others being much worse. Shortly after opening I started getting offers for significantly discounted tickets in my email, so it's easy to guess that the show isn't doing very well for the Goodman. (I haven't seen the show, so I can't comment on its quality.)

A few days ago, Jones published a reconsideration of the play. After conversation and a few nights spent mulling over it, he came to the determination that there was more to the play than he initially said, and that, despite its flaws, it was worth checking out for the ambition and ideas onstage. This angered a lot of people. There were rumblings that perhaps it was the result of a stern phone call from Falls, which he has been known to do before, but nobody has yet produced evidence that this happened. Monica Reida was bothered that Jones said that people who didn't like the show maybe didn't understand it--not to mention callin the Goodman Chicago's "flagship" theatre and Falls the city's "essential" director, which are pretty sweeping claims. Bob Bullen also took strong exception to the fawning tone of Jones' post, the "flagship" designation, and the Goodman's own policies and behavior. Rob Kozlowski first put up a very funny April Fools post on the Goodman's upcoming season, then an excellent piece on his high expectations of the companies who charge the most for tickets, and whose leadership make the most money.

As he said, when that much money is being charged (and the top ticket price for Johnstown Flood is a staggering $76!) audiences have a right to expect excellence. Jones himself made a similar point a few months ago when discussing Outrageous Fortune: while audiences should be encouraged to take risks, they should also be warned away from bad plays.

So we find ourselves in a bit of a bind: it's good for theatre to have large companies such at the Goodman taking a significant risk by doing world premieres of large-scale plays on the mainstage. This happens all too rarely, and it's vital for the health of theatre in America, particularly the livelihood of playwrights. But while theatre companies taking risks is something that should be rewarded, when those risks belly flop (as this one apparently has), critics and, more importantly, word of mouth will rightly keep people away, and the company will take a severe financial hit.

So what to do? Well, the Goodman will keep going despite this show, and with four of the six plays thus far announced in their 2010-2011 season being world premieres, it's safe to say their commitment to new work is undiminished. And this is a very good thing--what good are large institutions if they don't consistently risk big? But other companies don't have the same security, and a similar situation could severely hurt them or constrain their programming abilities. It's not hard to understand why so many theatres seem allergic to risk, never producing new plays or producing only those with tiny cast sizes.

So how about this: there are a lot of nonprofits, foundations, and charities out there devoted to developing new works: grants, residencies, festivals, readings, etc, etc. But too often great scripts, particularly the big ones, can wither on the vine, never seeing the stage. So how about some of these groups take on a new mission: production of big new plays. These groups will take on some portion of the cost for full-scale productions of new works (premieres or early productions), particularly those with large casts. The financial risk for theatres will be lessened, more new plays will be produced, and the chance of great new plays showing up will increase.

Because even if A True History of the Johnstown Flood doesn't work, the impulse that created it is a very good one. Hopefully the resources are out there for it to continue. Any thoughts?

What Works?

It's a given, it seems, that theatre people love to complain. Anywhere you look in the blogosphere you see personal attacks, crying, and anger. Outrageous Fortune is full of attacks on how new plays are produced in America, from funding to selection to production to marketing to critical response and beyond. And any time two or more theatre artists go out for drinks, bitching is soon to follow.


And honestly, I'm getting a little tired of it. There's a purpose in anatomizing what doesn't work, absolutely. We can't move forward without figuring out what has to change. But it seems like we rarely move on to discuss 1) what really is working, and how to emulate it and 2) how to fix processes and institutions that are dysfunctional.


I can make a start: I'm currently dramaturging FIddler On The Roof, directed by David H. Bell, at Marriott Lincolnshire. I'm having an absolutely wonderful time on that process, and think these are among the important factors:


Everyone is professional in behavior.
Everyone respects the artistry and time of everyone else.
It's a play the whole cast and production team believe in, and they're doing work of the highest quality.
There's enough money to make things easier than they would otherwise be.


But that's just my perspective from emails and having attended a few rehearsals. There could be all kinds of things going on I don't know about. And even if it's totally accurate, it doesn't really answer some important questions: 


Is every process at Marriott this positive, or is it more true on shows David directs? (The positivity clearly emanates from him.) 
Does this kind of atmosphere create great art? (I think this show will be great, though I'm hardly unbiased. But are negativity and tension productive?)
How did the organization make these values central? (Was a Marriott show 20 years ago the same?)
And how do other theatres, that aren't large commercial producers of musicals, take useful points from this organization?


So I throw it open to you:


What are experiences that have been particularly good, either specific productions or ongoing relationships with institutions? 
Have any of you experiences a dysfunctional process or place that was turned around and made positive? And if so, how?
How can an organization learn from the success of a different organization?


Let's see if we can get some good ideas out there.