Lee Wochner: Writer. Director. Writing instructor. Thinker about things.


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Archive for the ‘Theatre’ Category

24 hours of degrees of separation

Monday, May 20th, 2013

Yesterday, I took my kids to see “Iron Man 3.” I’m watching it and thinking that the bald bad guy is looking pretty familiar — then I see that it’s James Badge Dale, son of my friend Grover Dale, in a very large role. Grover is a distinguished Tony-winning choreographer and dancer, and someone I’ve known for almost 10 years. I met Badge once, at Grover’s house — a house that previously belonged to Gloria Swanson. Later I tell the kids that I’ve met that bald guy. They show no reaction; they don’t care about this sort of thing any more. They also don’t care when I tell them I once spent the day with War Machine, aka Don Cheadle.

Then today someone I know calls me and says, “Have you ever heard of the Odyssey Theatre?” (This is someone from the professional but non-theatre part of my life.) I assure him that I have, and have been there many times. He asks if I can possibly get him tickets to the play that Megan Mullally and Nick Offerman are doing there. As it turns out, a long time ago, I did an event with Megan Mullally, but even closer to that, I know the director of the show. (But no luck — nobody who doesn’t already have tickets is going to be getting tickets to that show.)

Then tonight I get home and decide to watch the episode of “Mad Men” I taped on Sunday night. That guy in the one scene — yes, it’s Kit Williamson, a playwright/actor friend.

Finally, I’m reading the LA Times tonight and I come across this news item:

 

Actor fills tenant role in Beverly Hills

Actor Chris Meloni has leased a gated compound in Beverly Hills at $20,000 a month.

The Spanish-style house, built in 1929, belongs to dancer-actor-choreographer Grover Dale.

The 6,000-square-foot home features a courtyard entry, four fireplaces, a card room, a den, an office, four bedrooms and six bathrooms. There is a guesthouse and a swimming pool.

Meloni, 52, is in this year’s films “42″ and “Man of Steel.”Often associated with his cop roles on “NYPD Blue” and “Law & Order,” he will star in the upcoming TV comedy “I Suck at Girls.” Last year he played a vampire on the series “True Blood.”

Dale, 77, appeared in the musicals “Li’l Abner” and “West Side Story” and the films “The Unsinkable Molly Brown” and “The Landlord.” He choreographed the musical “Billy” and shared a Tony Award as co-director of the anthology “Jerome Robbin’s Broadway.”

Brent Watson of Coldwell Banker’s Beverly Hills North office was the listing agent. Dana Cataldi of Partners Trust in Brentwood represented Meloni.

 

Which led to this thought: “Even the house of someone I know is making headlines.”

Reeling in good reviews

Thursday, May 16th, 2013

The reviews are in on the new production of my play, “The Size of Pike,” at Moving Arts here in Los Angeles. And they’re terrific. Not only are these great reviews, they seem to be written by critics who understood the play. This is not always the case. (At times, I have felt this was not even occasionally the case.) Getting a good review is always good; getting one that reflects an understanding is meaningful.

That all the reviews thus far are universally good means that the play has gotten a 100% Sweet review on Bitter Lemons. (Last I checked.) We’re actually the top-rated show at the moment. Which almost makes me wish we don’t get more reviews, because it’s hard to beat 100%.

Here’s the Bitter Lemons site, where you can check out all the reviews so far of the play.

And if you’re in LA and want to see the show, here’s where to get info and tickets.

As I told a friend earlier today, now that Moving Arts has produced this play twice (once 17 years ago) and it’s gotten great reviews both times, I’m starting to think this might actually be a good play. (You never know for sure.)

Playing, writing, and editing

Wednesday, May 1st, 2013

My play “The Size of Pike” opens this Friday at Moving Arts here in Los Angeles, where it runs through June 2nd. You can learn more about that, and get tickets, here. This is the point in the post where I subtly entreat you to please come see it.

And you might check out this piece that I was invited to write, which gives some of the backstory, as well as my take on how enchanting the outdoors truly are.

While I’m on the topic, the editor of that piece was Don Shirley, a longtime theatre critic and editor here in Los Angeles. I had no idea Don would be editing that, or even that I’d get an editor. What an enormous treat actually to be edited, and by an editor I respect! I read the LA Times and the Wall Street Journal every day, in print editions, and innumerable newspapers and magazines online, and I had given up hope that there were actually any editors left. (Most days, you wouldn’t know it.) Don emailed me with four questions and suggested changes, and I agreed to every one of them. Want to know why? Because they improved my piece. Here’s the definition of a good editor: someone who improves your piece. (And we know what a bad editor does.) He even took the time to go online and check something he wasn’t sure about at AMA Manual of Style, and to send me the link so I could check it out myself. I’m taking the time here to note all this because I’m grateful, and because I was further flattered to hear that he’d been reading this blog, so maybe he’ll see this.

Among other things, the play is about traditions and skills that are lost. Glad to know that copy editing is not one of them.

Farewell, Elaine Stritch

Wednesday, April 3rd, 2013

Farewell to stage star Elaine Stritch. She’s still among us, but no longer on stage.

I love her sass. Her comic vinegar has always reminded me of my aunt who felt her leg cast went too high for her comfort — and so, banged some of it off with a hammer.

I’m glad I got to see Ms. Stritch in “A Delicate Balance” on Broadway about 20 years ago (where she was clearly too old to be talking about wearing a topless bathing suit, but I still didn’t care) and in “At Liberty” 10 years ago here in town.

She’s a character. I hope that all of us who think this is her final exit from the stage are somehow proved wrong. But I think her looming move to Birmingham, Michigan at age 88 tells us what we need to know.

Ars longa

Saturday, February 9th, 2013

Here’s my friend Gwydion Suilebhan with thoughts on how the arts can extend their influence (and their shelf life) by recognizing how much arts consumption has changed.

Early criticism

Monday, December 10th, 2012

A few years ago, I dubbed our local elementary school’s annual offering “The Talentless Show,” because clearly you didn’t need any in order to get up on stage. Now I see I have company.

Not hungry any more

Monday, December 10th, 2012

I’m sorry to learn of the closing of Hunger Artists Theatre in Fullerton, California, after 16 years of producing new work and brave revivals. They produced my play “Next Time” a few years ago, and many  plays by local playwrights, including scripts that came out of my workshop. I haven’t been down to Fullerton in a while (it’s 38 miles in distance from Burbank — but sometimes that translates into two hours of driving), but I liked knowing the theatre was there.

Here’s news of the announcement, and here’s a further analysis.

School play

Monday, December 3rd, 2012

My 10-year-old has refused to appear in this year’s elementary school production of the holiday show.

The teacher has tried everything to get him to change his mind.

She’s asked him if he’s sure. (He’s sure.)

She’s reminded him that he knows all the words to the songs, and seems to like music, and so perhaps he’d like to be on stage singing along. (He wouldn’t.)

She pointed out to him that this was his last year of elementary school, and therefore his last year to be in this school production. (He doesn’t care.)

Last week at our parent-teacher conference, she brought it up to me and wanted to know what I thought about it.

“How many don’t want to participate?” I asked.

“Just him,” she said.

“I thought there was another boy.”

“No, he joined in,” she said.

So this other kid had caved. “Well, I’m glad to know he doesn’t give in to peer pressure.”

She looked at me. “There’s no peer pressure,” she said. I think she assumed I meant from the other kids.

“I’m not going to force him,” I said, “but I’ll ask him about it again. I know he likes to sing.”

Later, in the car, I asked him about it. Yes, he likes to sing along, but no, he wasn’t doing the show. So that was that. Part of me was proud of him, even though I knew his grandparents would be disappointed. As for my wife and me, we both thought it presented a fine excuse for missing the elementary school holiday show.

Today I came home and Dietrich proudly announced that he was involved with the holiday show.

“WHAT? I thought you didn’t want to be in it!”

“I’m not,” he said, beaming. “I’m the assistant director.”

It sounded like it had been his plan all along.

 

There’s still time!

Friday, November 2nd, 2012

This Saturday night is Moving Arts’ 20th anniversary party. When are we going to have another 20th anniversary party? Never. It’s a one-time event.

That’s just one reason I’m hoping that if you’re in Los Angeles tomorrow night, you’ll join us. (Click here to get tickets, or more information.)

Here are some other reasons:

  • There’s great food and drink and entertainment
  • It’s going to be a lot of fun
  • It’s incredibly reasonable! (Just 25 bucks.)
  • I would love to see you there
  • What Moving Arts does is really important

Since our founding in 1992, we’ve produced hundreds of new plays. We’ve launched a lot of new plays (and a lot of new playwrights) in that time, racking up awards and a significant body of work. We were the first to produce many of these playwrights, many of whom have gone on to illustrious careers. And we started doing that at a time when practically no one was doing strictly new plays.

Moving Arts is more than a theatre, or a theatre company: It’s a mission. It’s a mission that says that stories from our times must be supported and produced. Not just workshopped, or read, or developed. Produced.

As founding artistic director, I’m incredibly proud of our work, and of the talented people running the theatre and the talented people doing good work that moves audiences to laugh and to cry. Please come out and join me in hoisting a glass to all of that – and to what promises to be our best season ever.

I hope to see you on Saturday night.

p.s. Can’t be there in person? Join us in spirit! Click here to make a donation. Thank you.

20 years of drama

Tuesday, October 30th, 2012

It was 20 years ago tonight that we opened Moving Arts. Not all of those 20 years have been easy — it’s never easy keeping any theatre open, let alone one devoted entirely to new plays — and in fact, some of them have been pretty hard. But still, I’m not surprised we’ve hit 20. We’ve got good people running the place; in fact, we’ve always had good people running the place.

Moving Arts began in 1990, on paper, as Acme Performance Group, Inc. Originally, it was going to be a production company called Acme Arts Co., under a different artistic director than me. The concept of the proto artistic director had been that with the name Acme Arts Co., we could do “anything” — we wouldn’t be limited to theatre. Now I know better: that in most cases, it’s better precisely to be limited to just one or two things. Unless your corporate name is Virgin. But it turned out that Acme Arts Co. was a name already registered in the state of California, so the name became Acme Performance Group, Inc. In other words, the name went from bad to worse. But after waiting a seeming eternity for that artistic director to do something, I decided to drive around, find a space we could afford, and call him up and tell him about it, and as politely as I could, to also tell him that I thought I should take the title of artistic director. “I think you should,” he said.

The space I found, 1822 Hyperion Avenue in the Silver Lake district of Los Angeles, had been a police substation. It was about large enough for two police and maybe their donuts. When the landlord, Bud Plochere, showed it to me and asked me what I wanted to do with it, I said, “I want to turn it into a theatre.” He stood inside and looked around and said, “You can’t open a theatre in here.” But we did. And we’ve been doing theatre there — and elsewhere — for 20 years now.

Over those 20 years, many hundreds of people have contributed their time and energy to Moving Arts and its productions. I do want to name just a relative fraction of them.

The founding board of Acme Performance Group, Inc. was: Eve Kathleen Baker, Julie Briggs, Gary Guidinger, Joe Stafford and myself. We never would’ve started the non-profit without Eve, who much like Johnny Appleseed sowed seeds wherever she went, but her seeds were non-profits; she started a lot of them, including ours. Eve died about five years ago (more, now?) and I still think about her frequently. And a special two-decade tip of the hat to my good friend Joe Stafford, who wrangled all the paperwork down at City Hall in 1992 while I was on the East Coast dealing with the death of my father; Joe made a friend in the bureaucratic maze and somehow navigated us through the other side.

The theatre was opened with $7,500. (!) Those founding funders were: Julie Briggs, her parents, Paul Crist, Joe Stafford, my mother, my wife and I, my brother Michael, and my wife’s grandfather, Frank Senn. Seven of them gave $1,000 each (that was the ask), and one gave $500. I remain grateful to them all.

There were many people who built the theatre, but the primary work crew was Marcy Ross, Tom Boyle, Rodger Gibson, David Krebs (now deceased), Julie, and myself. Rodger was an electrician and wired us throughout; Marcy was an ace carpenter; and Tom, as always, seemed to know how to do everything. I spent a lot of time scraping fake popcorn off the ceiling and inhaling lots of lung sealant in the process.

When it came time for a name for the place (I was damned if it was going to be Acme something), we compiled a sheet with three dozen or more alternatives. I no longer know where that sheet is (and I wish I did), but I do remember two names off it: Theatre X (which I came up with, and liked, but which got vetoed), and Moving Arts, courtesy of Steve Freedman. Nobody vetoed Moving Arts, and the more it stayed on the list, the more it grew on people. Thanks, Steve.

We’ve always had many talented, resourceful people in charge, but here are the true forces to be reckoned with, as I recall them.

Managing Directors: Julie Briggs, Rebecca Rasmussen, Lisa Payne Marschall, Michael Shutt, and especially, especially, our current hard-working (and long-suffering?) managing director Steve Lozier.

Artistic Directors: Julie Briggs again (about five years in, we adjusted titles and made her an equal artistic director with me; essentially, we’d already been producing partners since the founding), Kim Glann, and Paul Stein. (I was the founding artistic director, and I’m currently serving as artistic director again, on an interim basis, but really it’s in title only.)

Our Literary Director of many, many years, Trey Nichols.

Our incredible producer-director people, including Cece Tio, Sara Wagner, Terence Anthony, Mary McGuire, and Jane Sunderland.

And the many board members who’ve truly made a difference: Dan Beck, Jeannine Fairchild, Michael Curry, Mark Kinsey Stephenson, Kevin Scott, J. Hobart, Joe Stafford, Brian Newkirk, Marlene Coleman and Cris D’Annunzio among them.

And, finally, all the talented (and sometimes semi-talented) actors and designers and board ops and directors and playwrights who gave of their time and their energy. Thank you. Enormously.

Originally, my co-founder, Julie Briggs, just wanted to direct a play, one of mine. But I needed a place to work, and I hadn’t had a great time at the other place I’d tried to work. (The now long-closed Burbage Theatre.) And I didn’t like what I was seeing of other small theatres were run at the time. So I drove around and found the place we could afford to open. It was too small, and we had no money, and it was just the two of us. I figured you could do theatre anywhere, so the size wouldn’t stop us, and I knew even then that you can always get more money. But Julie wanted to know how just the two of us were going to do this. “We’ll get other people,” I told her, and that’s precisely what happened. One of the quips I share all the time is attributed to Jean-Paul Sartre: “Hell is other people.” But from day one, Moving Arts was built by other people. We thought we were building a theatre, but really we built a community.