CollisionWorks

I was a Monster Kid.


I may have somewhat of a reputation as a "serious" person and theatre artist now, a thoughtful, well-read (if not "intellectual") artsy-type, with a perhaps unusual penchant for VERY VERY LOUD rock and roll as my main eccentricity. But I was THAT kid.


I was the kid who lived for movies starring Boris Karloff, Bela Lugosi, Lon Chaneys Junior and Senior, Vincent Price, Christopher Lee, Peter Cushing, and John Carradine, and, even more obscurely, Lionel Atwill, Max Schreck, Evelyn Ankers, and J. Carroll Naish. I was the kid who bought makeup kits and messed up my face with latex scars and foul-smelling fake blood, whose dad helped him cast a flat "Frankenstein Monster" head out of plaster (not "Frankenstein," he was the DOCTOR, dammit!) and built all the Aurora model kits of the Universal horror films with him. I was the kid with a Super-8 movie camera doing bad stop-motion imitations of The Blob with Play-Do, cans of "Slime," and Evel Knievel action figures. I was the kid who knew the names Ray Harryhausen and Eiji Tsuburaya (even if I couldn't pronounce them), and who sometimes wanted to be just like them when I grew up. And when not wanting to be them, who wanted to be another Lon Chaney (Junior or Senior), and play monsters in movies when I grew up, and who forced my bored kindergarten classmates to endlessly re-enact the movies I'd seen on TV over the weekend, with me as the starring monster. Which led directly, I think, to theatrical acting and directing today.


And it all started in one place . . .





Famous Monsters (or Famous Monsters of Filmland, sometimes) magazine, known to some of us kids as just FM. It was edited by Forrest J Ackerman (aka 4SJ or 4e, or Dr. Acula, or . . . ten million other nicknames/pseudonyms), who turned 90 years old this past Friday. Ray Young at FLICKHEAD hosted a Blog-a-thon in Forry's honor on that day, but my theatre commitments got in the way of being on time with anything then, and most of what I wanted to say has been said by other people in the Blog-a-thon (there were many of us Monster Kids, and we all grew up much the same). Still, as I wouldn't be who I am today, doing what I am today without them, I have to say a few things about 4SJ and FM. But just a few, and mostly about myself.


So check out the rest of the Blog-a-thon at the link above, and you can read more about Forry here.


And more about Famous Monsters here and here (this last including a wonderful gallery of all the covers of FM).


As for myself . . . as a small child, sometime in 1972 or 1973, I was poking through a pile of magazines in my grandparents' attic in Rye, NY -- probably ones that belonged to my dad or uncle from the previous decade, when the covers of two magazines caught my eye. One is above (issue #20, November, 1962), and this was the other one (#23, June, 1963):





Art by Basil Gogos on both, though I certainly didn't know that yet (didn't take long for that to sink in, though; his art was as much the look of FM as the distinctive logo). These two issues of Famous Monsters threw some kind of switch in me. I can't remember if I had any interest in monster movies before I saw these -- I think I was into Star Trek by that time, but maybe not -- but after reading these over and over again, monsters were all I thought about.


Luckily, at that time, monster movies were plentiful on the TV. Between the local NYC channels 5 (WNEW), 9 (WWOR), and 11 (WPIX), the back libraries of most studios were being run continually, and there was ALWAYS a classic horror/SF movie on SOMEWHERE, it seemed. I remember channel 9 had the RKO library and others, channel 11 the Universal films, and channel 5 a catchall of various oddities (I think they showed all the William Castle films, and things like The Manster and Frankenstein 1970, and maybe some Roger Corman films). The local ABC affiliate (channel 7) had most of the Hammer films, but unfortunately almost always aired them in the middle of the night, and I remember trying to stay up to watch Horror of Dracula several times and failing, and being sleepwalked off to bed by my great-grandma Duering around 3.00 am (I finally saw it when I was in my mid-20s and was horribly disappointed; the stills and descriptions in FM were much more exciting). Channel 7 did however frequently run Roger Corman's Vincent Price/Poe movies on their Monday through Friday 4.30 Movie show, so I got to see those many many times, running home from school to try and not miss a second.


Also, channel 13 (PBS) showed massive quantities of silent films, and I got to see Nosferatu, The Cabinet of Doctor Caligari, The Golem, Metropolis, and many many films starring Lon Chaney over and over again -- something that, judging from what others have said in their blogs, was not-too-common across the country at the time.


Soon after finding those two issues, I discovered that Famous Monsters was still in business, and I got my first new issue, #101, at the Post Stationary store (aka "Lou's" for its beloved owner) in Cos Cob, CT in late '73. And I got most of the issues from then on until it folded (in that incarnation) ten years later. And soon enough, not only was I learning about these monster movies, I was learning about the other people out there like me who loved these movies, and about Forrest J Ackerman, the editor of Famous Monsters, who WAS the magazine, whose personality infused every word of every article in it, and who seemed to be The King of Monster Movie Fans.


Ackerman was at the same time, even to me as a child, both a stodgy, square, horrible pun-pushing, old-fashioned big silly guy who could embarrass you, and a nutty, encouraging uncle who shared your interests and made you feel okay for liking these weird things that the other kids didn't. 4E lived in what appeared, from the photos he would publish, to be a magical house in "Horrorweird, Karloffornia," filled with a treasure trove of memorabilia from fantastic films of the past: models, costumes, props, makeup pieces, etc. from seemingly every horror/SF film ever made. And if you ever visited L.A., you could just give him a call (at MOON-FAN) and he'd show you around the place. He was somehow genial and goofy in his persona, but you also got how SERIOUSLY he took these genres that he loved, and I think this was a good introduction to the idea of taking the WORK seriously, but never taking yourself seriously -- a good way to try and maintain sanity when creating. He also made it seem perfectly alright for adults to take horror and science fiction seriously, which meant you could (and should) do the same as a child.


Luckily, as opposed again to some of what I read in other blogs, my parents and teachers were cool and encouraging with my interests (my folks were divorced by this point, but still, not differing on this with me), and I even attended the Famous Monsters Conventions in NYC in 1974 and 1975 (of which I have next to no memories). So, horror and "sci-fi" (a much-hated term coined by 4SJ) was pretty much my life for most of my childhood, until my dad sat me down one evening and made me watch Citizen Kane, and a whole new world opened up for me.


But while I went from wanting to be Lon Chaney Jr. to wanting to be Orson Welles (which I'm still working on), I was still the kid who went down to Lou's every month and bought the new issue of Famous Monsters. And I'm still the guy who can summon up the names in the credits for dozens of monster movies from memory (and who gets frustrated because it probably was once hundreds of movies, and I've lost so much of my personal database over the years). I'm still the guy who uses Ronald Stein's music from Roger Corman movies in my oh-so-"serious" plays for tense moments, and who used to show Super-8 movies behind a friend's band in the 90s, movies I still had (and still have) from ordering them from "Captain Company" in the back pages of FM, Castle Films abbreviated versions of the Lugosi Dracula, Frankenstein Meets the Wolfman, Psycho, and Man-Made Monster (the latter being one of the first films I can remember seeing as a small child on channel 11).


I'm the guy who was a slightly-older kid in 1979 who went down to Lou's and got the new issue . . .





. . . took it home, and discovered I had won a short-short-story writing contest in the back, and there was my silly little story (which I was ashamed of even then, and NO I don't want to see it again, if you're tempted to find me a copy). The contest had given the first and last sentences of a story, and you had to fill in the middle (a technique I've wound up using quite a bit over the rest of my life, including on this blog entry). I was amused years later to see a photo of Forry and Stephen King together in an issue of the "new" Famous Monsters where Forry had dug out from his files a story little "Steve" King had sent Ackerman when King was 11 himself, and which 4e finally published -- in the photo, Forry is handing Stephen King a copy of the very issue in which my story appeared!


Silly as it was, seeing that story in print -- actually, more importantly, seeing MY NAME in print: "Ian W. Hill, age 11" in white on black Helvetica (and when DID I decide to use my middle initial, anyway?) -- somehow gave me the feeling that all my ego dreams of writing, acting, directing were POSSIBLE, could be achieved. Being in Famous Monsters meant something, some kind of approval, and gave me the feeling I could do it again, could actually make making things like this my whole life.


So happy 90th, 4e, and I hope you achieve your goal in being the George Burns of sci-fi and staying with us another 10 years at least! Someday I hope to shake your hand and thank you personally for my life. Everything I have in my life, everything I love, goes back to finding those two issues in the attic, and the encouragement that Famous Monsters and Forrest J Ackerman gave me to pursue what I loved. So here I am.


I'm a Monster Kid.

No reason to be up, but been up for an hour, trying to go back to sleep with no success. So lemme get my Friday blog responsibilities out of the way, as two cats bug me, wanting attention (especially Hooker, who's plopped himself behind my left elbow on the lukewarm radiator, occasionally dragging a paw of claws across my arm, demanding an ear scratch, making his quiet wheezy-purr sound).


1. "Ode to Divorce" - Regina Spektor - Soviet Kitsch

Not my favorite RS (that would be "Back of a Truck," best song I've heard in years), but good. It always takes her a moment to get over my learned response reaction to female piano-playing singer/songwriters (mild nausea, which makes no sense, as I like some Tori Amos and all the Fiona Apple I've heard). She's real good, and at some point that realization kicks in when her lyrics, or singing, or arrangements just go someplace special. Here she finally cuts loose vocally, and a cello comes in, and she's got me.


2. "Already There" - Bell - Perfect Math

My old friend Vanessa's band from Seattle; their one minor regional radio hit. Good song that somehow reminds me of both "Pretty Vacant" and "King's Lead Hat" (which, knowing V, would not be an unlikely combination for her to be influenced by here). I miss Vanessa, who I last saw around '98 when Bell toured to NYC to promote this EP, but I miss this band almost as much.


3. "Toi L'ami" - Richard Anthony - Foreign Language Fun, Vol. 1

"All My Loving" en français. Cute, pleasant, with a completely out-of-place "country-sounding" guitar solo.


4. "Along Came Jones" - The Coasters - Atlantic Rhythm & Blues vol. 4 1957-1961

Love love love The Coasters, but I'm not sure what the metaphor is here (if there IS one, but given Lieber & Stoller's penchant for hiding deep meanings in simple-sounding "comedy" songs, there's GOTTA be one . . .). If I had more of my favorite Coasters songs, I probably wouldn't have this one on the iTunes, but someone lifted my 2-disc Coasters collection from me a few years ago at the theatre I was living/working at -- the best Coasters collection ever assembled, now out of print, dammit -- and I'm stuck with just the handful of tracks I have on other R&B/doo-wop comps.


5. "Highway Toes" - Christopher Guest - The Best of The National Lampoon Radio Hour

Guest viciously parodying James Taylor, live from National Lampoon's Lemmings. At first I thought it was real James Taylor and steeled myself for annoyance (even before Guest does his perfect imitation, they've got the musical intro down perfectly - John Belushi on bass and Chevy Chase on drums, interestingly enough). I know I have some Taylor on the iTunes, I think because I listened to a couple that I did in fact like as a random respite from the large amounts of loud violent guitar-based rock and roll on here, but Taylor's another singer/songwriter I've had to get over feeling immediately "icky" about.


6. "Everybody's Laughing" - The Spaniels - The Doo-Wop Box III, Disk 1: "The Hits"

Ah, lovely doo-wop. Great song, great vocal, great rhythm. Simple. Not a classic. But good.


7. "Davy the Fat Boy" - Randy Newman - Guilty: 30 Years Of Randy Newman: The Studio Recordings

I used to like this song a lot more, but it's nice hearing it again after a few years. Last song on Newman's first album, with an overdone Van Dyke Parks arrangement. Nasty and cutting.


8. "World Before Columbus" - Suzanne Vega - Nine Objects of Desire

A favorite song from a favorite album (the one where I finally felt Vega got everything right). This love song was "spoiled" a bit for me on finding out it's written for her child -- there's so few actual good not-so-sappy man/woman love songs out there (desire songs, sure, lust songs, oh yeah, real love songs not to make you vomit? not so much) -- but you don't have to read it that way. Hard to not do that though, once you know who she wrote it for. Oops, sorry.

One of the best-damned produced albums there is. Mitchell Froom, married to Vega at the time (very much a "post-marriage-and-first-child" album), responsible for that. Their previous record, 99.9 F°, was a bit overdone - Froom seemed to be a little too enamored of the odd sounds he got from working with all the Tom Waits band alumni on Elvis Costello's Spike. Much simpler and appropriate here, with some of the best piano and drum sounds I've ever heard on record.


9."Old Kentucky Home" - The Beau Brummels - Triangle

Woah, haven't heard this one yet - downloaded the album, liking the band. It IS the Randy Newman song, for gods sake. Great version. Kind of at a strange, hysterical pitch, but good. Short, too. Did they cut a verse?


10. "Uninhabited Man (live)" - Richard Thompson - Live from Austin, TX

Recent, unfamiliar, okay-but-not-great song from one of my favorite singer-songwriter-guitarists. Don't know it so well. Frankly, sounds like a lot of other stuff of his I like better. Oh, right, there it is, the bridge is different and really good. That's right. That's what saves this one. Nice drumming.


Pleasant start to the day. A relaxing, singer/songwriter day, I guess . . .

Last Friday, the 17th, Václav Havel came to The Brick theatre in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, to see my production of his play Temptation. He brought his wife, the actress Dagmar Veškrnová, and a number of other guests, including the Czech Ambassador to the U.N., Martin Palous, the Consul General Halka Kaiserova (both of whom I'd met before), a number of other Czech dignitaries and friends who I didn't really get to meet . . . and former U.S. Secretary of State Madeleine Albright. The performance was followed by a party celebrating the 17th Anniversary of the Velvet Revolution, at which the band Uncle Moon performed a set of songs by The Velvet Underground.


Oh. My.


It was quite a night. There are a few stories to tell, but those'll have to wait (and I can discuss Thursday and Sunday's performances as well). I'm getting requests from friends, family and cast for pictures, first and foremost.


So here's a bunch of photos of the evening, mostly, for whatever reason, unflattering ones with lots of closed eyes and/or silly facial expressions, but these are what I have:




Here, towards the end of the night, as Mr. and Mrs. Havel are leaving, they stop to pose with actors Timothy Reynolds, Christiaan Koop, Eric C. Bailey, Jessi Gotta (with Roger Nasser barely visible behind her), and me.




At curtain call, I come out in fireman gear (as suggested by a stage direction in Havel's play), to welcome the playwright and guests to The Brick and the party - and he gets a round of applause . . .




. . . and then joins the cast (here, Fred Backus and Jessi Gotta) on stage to accept that applause.




Marie Winn, who did the English translation of Temptation that I used, was there that night, and I got to speak with her and have her sign my copy of the published text of the play (as mentioned before, I had Havel sign my working draft of the script last week). To the rear, Havel and his wife are visible, at left (barely), my father and stepmother, at right, William Neiderkorn, composer of music for several plays in the festival.




I thank Havel for coming and he thanks me for the production.




Marie Winn talks to Havel and Albright. Ambassador Palous to the left.




Before the set, Havel says a few words to those assembled.




I had actually gone outside the theatre shortly after thanking Havel -- it was REAL hot in there from the massive crowd, and I'd just been stuck up in the tech booth (even hotter) running the show for 2 and three-quarters hours, plus running around plenty beforehand dealing with crowd control, seating issues, keeping the cast from finding out (not very successfully), etc. I was sweaty and worn out, the place was uncomfortably crowded, so I went outside for some air and to hang with friends, cast, and fellow bloggers (George Hunka, James Comtois, and Matt Johnston were there).

So I don't know what Albright was doing, adding a few words to what Havel had said or joining Uncle Moon for a kickass version of "All Tomorrow's Parties." I choose to believe the latter.




Don't know who's on the extreme ends, but otherwise, left to right, it's Halka Kaiserova, Madeleine Albright, Vaclav Havel, Edward Einhorn (festival director), and co-directors of The Brick Michael Gardner and Robert Honeywell.




Outside at the end of the night, the same group as at the top, plus Aaron Baker and the Ambassador to the right. I've just welcomed Havel to the great borough of Brooklyn. He's telling me that he'd like to get to Brooklyn more, but he REALLY doesn't like going over bridges, so it's very uncomfortable for him. I am looming ridiculously into his personal space as he's VERY soft-spoken and I wasn't even sure he was speaking to me at first. Mrs. Havel, who appears to be holding Excalibur, is shaking hands with Timothy -- she made a special point, it seemed, to thank and praise all of the actors in the show.




I'm telling Mr. Havel that I also don't like driving over bridges, but I've had to do it so often now I'm used to it. Neither of us is considering that there are indeed tunnels between Manhattan and Brooklyn/nearby Queens.

It may have something to do with the mind-control scanning coming from Fred Backus and Alyssa Simon, at rear, with the glowing cyborg eyes. Aaron Baker, a talented "blocker" of psychic attacks, is aware of this and is amused.




Either the glowy-eyed Alyssa has turned the focus of her psychic attack on my gut, or I'm taking in that Mr. Havel is saying he's never gotten used to going over bridges, that he's 70 now, and the fear only gets worse with age -- and I'll find this out someday. This is not reassuring.


More soon. The two quotes that come back to me most about the evening are: Walter Brandes coming up to me to tell me that Madeleine Albright had told him (and he paused a moment to reflect on how odd it was to say THAT) that Havel had turned to his wife during the show to remark that this was a much better production of the play then had been done in Prague.


Whoa. Nice ego-boo there.


And an email the next day from Alyssa noting that she was only then realizing how amazing it all was.


Yeah, Vaclav Havel and Madeleine Albright at The Brick. A scrappy little indie theatre at Metropolitan and Lorimer in Williamsburg, Brooklyn. More than anything for me, I'm just glad it happened to The Brick.


photos by Nils Hill, Yolanda Hawkins, and Eric C. Bailey

More randomness from an expanding iTunes in Gravesend, rapidly closing in on the 60 gig limit I've imposed on it (59.61), where I will have to start pulling stuff off to put more on.


Until then, this, with briefer-than-usual notes (I'm busy):


1. "You've Got More Things Going for You Than Teeth, Baby" - John Barry - Boom (original soundtrack)

I've downloaded a bunch of out-of-print movie soundtracks, generally 60s, generally "hip-and-cool," to keep as library music for my shows. I keep the tracks in iTunes if they're interesting and/or short enough. This is a tense Prisoner-esque, bongo and string piece, with some studio echo trickery. Good for a creepy scene sometime.


2. "Drums and Boys" - Honey Is Cool - Crazy Love

No idea where I got this. Probably from WFMU.org or Idolator. Makes me think of Cibo Matto. Swedish band. Drums, female singer, sparse "other" noises. Cool.


3. "Sax Twin" - Giuseppe Cannizzo - Kaleidoscopica

Actual Italian library music for films. I have a lot of this. I'm on a bit of an Italian-and-somewhat-all-European-in-general-but-I-guess-still-mainly-Italian library music kick. This is a pretty track that goes through several phases/modes -- at first I thought the title was a mislabeling, as it takes over a third of the song to occur before the "twinned" saxes enter; before that it's all flute and acoustic guitar.


4. "Mercy Mercy Me (The Ecology)" - Marvin Gaye - What's Going On

A classic.


5. "Mink Car" - They Might Be Giants - Mink Car

TMBG "does" Bacharach. Impressive, they get the piano and horn stuff dead-on. Perfect chords. Still TMBG vocals and lyrics.


6. "Tijuana Gasser" - The Deuce Coupes - 32 Hot Rod Hits

Pleasant enough surf guitar instrumental. These just make me happy in any case.


7. "Jack Talked (Like a Man on Fire)" - Stan Ridgway - Partyball

Exciting.


8. "Sad Sunset" - The Spiders - G.S. I Love You vol.3 -- Let's Go Spiders!

60s Japanese surf-style pop, sung in English. Pretty, cool, and not-quite-right, and all the better for it.


9. "Falling" - Julee Cruise - Falling Into the Night

AKA the Twin Peaks theme with vocals. Hard to separate from that association.


10. "Love Shine" - Timmy Thomas - Why Can't We Live Together: The Best of the TK Years 1972-1981

A non-hit from a one-hit wonder (see title of compilation). Interesting songs from Mr. Thomas generally, but kinda . . . odd . . . lyric conceits sometimes. "Oh, girl, you and me, we're makin' love shine!" and that's pretty much all of the lyrics. Sounds like they're manufacturing a cleaning product.


Not the most interesting 10 this morning. Luck of the draw.

George Hunka requests that us fellow theatre bloggers (I guess I still am that) post the following announcement for a very interesting and worthwhile event going on tomorrow.


I can't imagine anyone interested in this who reads this journal who doesn't also follow George's essential Superfluities, but just in case, here ya go:


Here's the lineup for the panel discussion on blogging and criticism
that I'll be moderating tomorrow at CUNY's Segal Center:

* For a little international flair we can't do better than Alison Croggon of theatre notes, who will join us telephonically from Melbourne, Australia. Alison's an accomplished, prize-winning poet and playwright; she also edits the Australian literary magazine Masthead.

* From the associate producer's desk at Performance Space 122 and wearing his editor-in-chief hat for culturebot.org , Andy Horwitz will join us (in person) about the challenges of running a blog for the downtown theatre community, and his (and others') visions of what the blogosphere can do to support and energize this community.

* Also in person will be Matthew Johnston, whose theatre conversation and political frustration seeks to stress "the creation of a dialogue and encourage multiple perspectives in theatre and performance." Matt also writes reviews for nytheatre.com . He's directed plays by Sheila Callaghan and many others; most recently he was most cruelly abused by director, playwright, and cast as the stage manager for In Public.

Please join us at 6:30pm tomorrow, Wednesday, November 15, at the Graduate Center's Martin E. Segal Theatre, 365 Fifth Avenue at 34th Street. Admission is free – even as we run up the Segal Center's long distance bill to new astronomical heights.


I probably won't make it as I'm spending a couple days mostly off from the Havel Festival attending to those essential parts of life that get ignored for weeks as you put up a show, but I'm still very tempted to hear this group speak.

In an effort to save those yellowing, flaking-apart clipped-out pieces of amusement that have found their way to our fridge door, under the WFMU and B-movie magnets, a continuing series of scans and posts.


First, a little something that caught my eye from the New York Post of April 14, 2005:





Reason #1472 that I love Berit: When I showed this to her a couple of days after I clipped it from the paper, she exclaimed aloud exactly what I had thought when I first saw it:


"Dear God! They finally got Luthor, and on a morals rap!"

Temptation now has three of nine performances down.


The Equity issues are settled, and all is well, though I discovered I had to cut the fog machine from the end of the show -- the brand-spanking-new 2006 AEA Showcase Code prohibits the use COMPLETELY of smoke/fog machines in AEA Showcases (when I did my shows earlier this year, I was still sent the 2000 code, which doesn't have this restriction). So the ending of the play is a bit . . . well, not what Havel or I intended. It's supposed to potentially scare the audience into running from the theatre in terror, at least as Havel wrote it (he noted that the curtain call is for those audience members who haven't fled the space), and as I was determined to actually DO it. But now, well, it gets the show done and ends the story and characters, just doesn't bring it forward and out into the real world, as it should.


But these are the compromises you wind up making, I guess. If I'd known I would have had to make this compromise, I might have actually chosen a different show. Not that I did the show for the ending, but the forcefulness of it, and building the whole show to that point, was a large part of why I wanted to do the piece -- Edward recommended the show to me after reading that last stage direction, knowing it was "right" for me.


Wednesday night at the show, I had three other members of the Northfield Mount Hermon class of '86 in the house, Sandy Beech, Ben Robertson, and Charlotte Jones. With me and Aaron there for the show, it was a mini-class reunion. There had been a talk-back scheduled for after the show, but no one apart from the old friends seemed to be all that interested in it, so we had an informal, standing-around discussion of the show and what I was trying to do with it. They liked the show, and yes, it's a good show, really. That night's performance seemed a bit rushed at times, losing some of the subtlety we had in it before, but that's ephemeral theatre, you don't get all of it all the time. Still, good as it is, I feel odd about it, almost defensively telling these old friends of mine, who've never seen my work before, and really liked this one, that this isn't the type of stuff I normally do. I feel a bit like a semi-abstract artist hired to do a craftsman's job on a big representational mural, who puts his heart and soul and talent into it, yes, and makes something wonderful, really really good, but wants to say to the people who like it, "Yeah, but you should see my real work." Which makes me feel self-centered and lousy.


I usually try to create a "world" onstage, where the acting, set, props, sound, and lights are all part of one integrated system, a constantly shifting landscape of colliding elements, where there are elements of "story" or "plot" but in a dreamlike way. Moments of stillness, silence, clarity, honor, and purity are brief respites in a universe of confusion, pain, repression, and sensory overload. Usually in something like my rethinkings of the Foreman plays, or some of my originals, there's somewhere like 150 to 200 light and sound cues in a 70-90 minutes show. Sometimes more. Constant change, then the car hits the wall in a moment to think, before backing up and driving off again, dented, wounded, and smoking.


Temptation has 31 light cues and about 20 sound cues in two hours and forty minutes. Preshow music and lights, scene lights, scene change lights and music, scene lights. Repeat as needed. Almost no underscoring except for music in the "party" scenes. Intermission music. Exit music. Almost no internal light cues.


And this is what this play should have; anything else I would add to it would just be wrong. Self-indulgent. And yet . . . I watch and I don't see a world, I see a setting -- not a bad one, either, really -- in which really FINE actors are performing really FINE text in a really FINE way. This should be enough, right? Right?


The actors are terrific, and I'm proud of what we've done together. Sometimes I climb down from the booth to watch from the back of the house for a bit -- the 10 scenes are 9 to 18 minutes long, with, as I said, almost no internal cues, and the view/sound from the booth is lousy and makes everything look dim and sound tinny. So I come down so I can appreciate how good the acting actually is, and how much I like the lights most of the time (there are a couple of places where I can't get light where I need it -- I was expecting to have the moving I-Cue units cover these places, but it wound up being I can have my practicals dimmable OR the I-Cues -- and I have to avert my eyes here and there in disgust at these bad lighting moments; luckily they don't last long). It's good work. Really strong.


I've taken a personal tack on the play in many ways, so it's certainly not uninterested, faceless work to me. Maybe it's just ego. I did Havel's play the way I thought Havel's play was best served. It's not MINE. Probably that's it. I felt a slightly similar disconnect with the other two long "straight" plays I've directed/designed, Clive Barker's Frankenstein in Love and Richard Foreman's Harry in Love, but I was also acting in both of those, so I wasn't quite so distant.


I seem to do these things well. I think the more abstract work I do actually serves me well in staging straighter things like this -- normally I'm trying to get at the "machine language" of theatre, the raw basic code behind the normally spiffed-up gestures of drama, breaking it down, showing the impulses behind the gestures, why these things "work," while at the same time making them still work. So just putting the friendly user interface back on is pretty easy. Underneath, all that code is still running.


So, it's good, yes. Audience reaction has been quite positive, and not from gladhanders. The acting is very special, and when the lights work (the way the hanging fluorescent tube lights Walter's face in the "trial" scene, for example), I'm really happy. Just wish I could be happier.


Okay, time to leave this and get going - laundry to finish, have to clean myself up. Why have I been nervous all day, as noted in each of my blog entries? This afternoon I go to a small, intimate reception for Mr. Havel to meet the people behind The Havel Festival, at the residence of Ambassador Martin Palous, as a representative of the board of Untitled Theatre Co. #61 (and as myself/Gemini CollisionWorks, of course, but I'm only there cause I'm on the board). Time to get the nice clothes out of the dryer, pull the blazer and tie outta the closet, shower, shave, trim the beard, and try and re-preppy-fy myself into something presentable. Burning a disk of the music I'm using in the show for Havel as well; maybe he'll enjoy that.

So, let's see what the iTunes drags up this morning as I cat blog in another window and Temptation blog in one more . . .


1. "Beware" - The Big Beats - Garage Punk Unknowns

Oh, a great 60s garage-rock single! Never listened to it on headphones before, and there's a saxophone in there! Never caught that. The lead guitarist is mildly inept, but he's playing a great, unique lead line-hook for the song. The "idea" of the hook may be better than the execution, but something about the descending, minor lead line on guitar backed by some dodgy-pitched backing vocals works in a young, loud, and snotty way.


2. "Drive My Car" - The Beatles - Rubber Soul

Wow, does this sound poky and unenergetic now! The piano saves it. Not my favorite period of The Beatles, but on the upswing towards Revolver. I've gone back and forth over the years on whether the "Beep-beep-mm-beep-beep-yeah!" bit is great or embarrassingly dorky. Falling towards great, now, I think.


3. "Tryin' to Grow a Chin" - Frank Zappa - Sheik Yerbouti

Silly, trivial poop from late-70s Frank, but catchy and actually kinda lovely in it's way (especially the harmonies on the backing vocals). Nice "rock" vocal from Terry Bozzio. CD is mastered low-volume and compressed. Have to fix that in the iTunes EQ.

This song does feature one all-time-great Zappa phrase-coinage, which has become a part of Berit's and my regular vocabulary, contained in the line, "If Simmons was here, I could feature my hurt!" Simmons being Jeff Simmons, who walked out of The Mothers as they were about to film 200 Motels, deciding he needed to be taken seriously as a "rock star," but more importantly, "featuring one's hurt" is a great way to describe that aspect of some artists who enjoy the public showing of "Their Pain," or as Todd Rundgren once put it in an album title, "The Ever-Popular Tortured Artist Effect."

Hmmn. Suddenly I'm a little self-blog-conscious . . .


4. "Big Iron" - Johnny Cash - American IV: The Man Comes Around

Great western gunman saga from the Man in Black. This is one of two bonus tracks on the 2-LP vinyl version of this album, the other being a good version of "Wichita Lineman," with guitar solo from Glen Campbell. This actually sounds more like something from one of Cash's earlier American albums rather than the kind of catchall group of songs that make up the rest of this one.


5. "Fourth of July" - Galaxie 500 - MOJO: Piece of Cake (20 Years of Ryko)

I know almost nothing about this except it's on a comp that came with a magazine, and it's a really great alt-rock song. Sweet and noisy, a combo I like. One of the many grandchildren of The Velvet Underground. Oh, great mournful dissonant instrumental break. Okay, gotta find more by this group, I guess, this is too good.


6. "Rainy Night in Georgia" - Ken Parker - Cover Your Tracks

Interesting reggae-flavored cover of a soul favorite, courtesy of a WFMU Marathon comp. Nice for a change-up, pleasant to come across in random, but not anything all that special on its own. The original would have been a downer to come across, and this one isn't nearly as depressing, so it fits the mood here better.


7. "Killer of Men" - The Royal Coachmen - Shutdown '66 - The World's Only 60's Punk Record

Oh, cool. Garage rock taking on "Dylanesque" and winning by a kick in the balls. Some snotty punk kid, once again spewing invective at some girl that done him bad. He's trying to be Bob, but it sounds more like Sam the Sham or Question Mark. The bridge lyrics: "Ah, you love to see blood and laugh at death! (laugh at death, cause I--) I ain't gonna be happy until you're paralyzed!" Genius. Then it just ends.


8. "Casanova" - Roxy Music - Country Life

Ow, damn this is loud! I have gone in and re-EQed all of the Roxy Music tracks in the iTunes, so they're all very very LOUD. Well, it deserves to be. Another classic from one of those first four classic Roxy albums.


9. "I Know What I Would Do" - The State of Mickey and Tommy - Tektites vol. I

Bubblegum psychedelia, pretty good actually. Well-done, nice sitar and organ stuff.


10. "White Sandy Beach of Hawaii" - Israel Kamakawiwo'ole - Facing Future

Maybe you know the big man's cover of "Over the Rainbow/What a Wonderful World" that seemed to be showing up all over for a while? Well, this is another pretty yet somehow sad and mournful ukulele number. Why does ukulele do "sad, memory" so well?


Okay, cats blogged and up, more on the show to come . . .

Temptation gets a pleasant, positive review from Michael Criscuolo at nytheatre.com.


You can read it here, if you like.


I wish he'd maybe spent less space on synopsis and more on the actors, but it's okay. He has one qualm which is really a two-parter, and I just don't agree with him on one part and slightly agree with him on another, but it's unavoidable, as far as I'm concerned.


The show still has seven performances:





The Havel Festival (a production of Untitled Theatre Company #61)

and Gemini CollisionWorks present

Temptation

by Vaclav Havel

translated by Marie Winn

designed and directed by Ian W. Hill
assisted by Berit Johnson

with
Fred Backus - Eric C. Bailey* - Aaron Baker
Walter Brandes* - Danny Bowes - Maggie Cino
Tim Cusack* - Jessi Gotta - Christiaan Koop
Roger Nasser - Timothy McCown Reynolds* - Alyssa Simon*

*member of AEA - Temptation is an Equity-Approved Showcase

Wednesday, November 8 at 7.00 - Saturday, November 11 at 9.30 pm
Sunday, November 12 at 8.00 pm - Thursday, November 16 at 8.00 pm
Friday, November 17 at 8.00 pm - Sunday, November 19 at 8.00 pm
and Sunday, November 26 at 8.00 pm

at

The Brick
575 Metropolitan Avenue
Williamsburg, Brooklyn
(L Train to the Lorimer stop / G Train to the Metropolitan/Grand stop)

tickets $18.00 available at the door (cash only)
reservations/credit card orders through Theatermania:
212.352.3101 or www.theatermania.com

SPECIAL OFFER TO PEOPLE ON THIS LIST:

November 8 ONLY!
use the code INFORMER when ordering tickets from Theatermania
and get $10.00 tickets!

MORE INFO:

On Vaclav Havel:
http://www.vaclavhavel.cz/index.php?&setln=2
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vaclav_Havel

On The Havel Festival:
http://www.untitledtheatre.com/havel/havel-festival.html

On Gemini CollisionWorks and Temptation:
http://collisionwork.livejournal.com

"There is a time when the operation of the machine becomes so odious, makes you so sick at heart, that you can't take part; you can't even passively take part, and you've got to put your bodies upon the gears and upon the wheels, upon the levers, upon all the apparatus, and you've got to make it stop."

--Mario Savio, December 3, 1964


"The gears are strong, the levers heavy, and from all indications, the machine enjoys the taste of blood."

--David LM Mcintyre, March, 1993