(Leaving out, for obvious reasons, anything I worked on or that are still in development, including several honestly terrific plays I saw at The Great Plains Theatre Conference.)

Some years, I’ll see three or four plays a month — or more. In 2013, I saw only 15 (not counting the plays that Moving Arts was involved with, or, again, that I saw at GPTC, or that were workshops or staged readings.) What do I look for in a play? I don’t care about subject matter (although I’m adverse to plays that confuse neurotic couples arguing on their couch with drama, and one-person shows about how darn difficult it was growing up with parents who just didn’t understand), or form, or tone. I want to see things on stage that stick will stick with me because they’ve brought a new level of insight or inquiry; in other words, I want to be surprised and provoked. And entertained.

Putting it that way, two plays stood out above all others:

1. The Nether by Jennifer Haley, a Center Theatre Group production at the Kirk Douglas Theatre. In this dystopian not-so-distant future, people who can afford it escape their bleak day-to-day by living their meaningful lives in an area of the Internet called The Nether. In the Nether, people with horrifying thoughts and impulses are free to live out their fantasies — until the authorities deem even those fantasies illegal. The ramifications are far-reaching of investigating and prosecuting would-be pedophiles for their inclinations even while they are only virtually living out their fantasies. As all truly great drama does, The Nether pits strong arguments against each other — there are no straw men here — in a way that leaves one arguing about what is true and good and right. Starting from a powerhouse script, the production was flawlessly mounted and staged. I’m very glad that I read none of the reviews in advance (even the set held surprises) and instead just heeded trusted friends who implored me to see it. It’s a play that I won’t ever forget.
2. And now, a runner-up:  The Whale by Samuel D. Hunter. Although Hunter’s script piles up metaphors that aren’t fully explored or dramatically grounded, when the action centers around the enormously overweight central character, the play sings. Matthew Arkin’s devastating performance of a 600-pound man whose lungs and joints and legs and entire body are failing him will always weigh on me. Watching this obsessively unhappy man dig ferociously into a bucket of fried chicken was a sad spectacle — half the audience groaned audibly — but his determination to do right by his estranged daughter before he died elevated the character to a rare humanity.

I have a short play that’s being performed during Moving Arts’ holiday party this Saturday evening. It’s one of six plays that will be staged at various locations around a large house in the Hollywood Hills.

I invited a relative to join us for this on Saturday night. Every industry has its jargon; when you’re a practitioner in that industry, it’s easy to lose sight of what’s jargon and therefore what people won’t automatically understand. So when I invited her to join me for a holiday cocktail party “in a large house, with six brief environmentally staged plays,” she asked me, “What is an environmentally staged play?”

I explained that an “environmentally staged play” means it happens in different locations and is specific to those locations. (Mine is set in a bedroom, and is performed in a bedroom.)

She responded, “The plays sound interesting. We were thinking it meant the props were all from recycled materials.”

Which, of course, makes sense on the face of it. Especially given that I once produced a play called “Cockroach Nation” with set dressing largely drawn from trash….

I was sorry to learn just now of the death of Syd Field, a colleague of mine when I was teaching in the graduate writing program at the University of Southern California. Syd was a nice guy and a good teacher. And a bit influence:  just about everyone in Hollywood has read his book. Here’s the obit.

Also, I seem to have missed the passing of Marcia Wallace. Just over five years ago, Marcia was in a special performance of one of my plays — a one-night-only fundraising thing — and I have to say, she killed it. I knew the thing was funny (it had been done before), but she found all sorts of new things that made me seem like a comedy genius. She was very sweet to work with. I grew up watching her on The Bob Newhart Show, so getting to work with her, however briefly, felt like one of those situations where you ask yourself how you wound up this lucky in life. I’m sorry we’ll never get another chance. I hope that, somewhere in my “records” such as they are, I can find that photo we took together.

Effective today, I’m no longer artistic director of Moving Arts, the theatre I founded in 1992. And it’s a good thing.

I love my theatre company, and all of our history, and I enjoyed being artistic director from 1992 to 2002, and then again for about the past five years. But here’s what I really want to do now with Moving Arts: be the best supporter of our new artistic director and our company as possible — and be a playwright. I loved running a theatre, but it’s time (again) for new people, and I have another company I’m leading right now (this one, with my business partner, which provides another place to work with smart, talented people every day).

Here’s the announcement re our new artistic director, Darin Anthony. We picked Darin over a surprising number of other well-qualified people who applied. We did that because in addition to being awfully talented, and smart, and dedicated to new-play development, he’s the right fit for us. As he said on Sunday night when he addressed the theatre company on the eve of the announcement, he didn’t just want to be an artistic director, he wanted to be artistic director of Moving Arts (and had been quietly campaigning for the post for two years). Moreover, he has an attractive
vision for where we can go.

This is an exciting moment, for Moving Arts and for me. I’m looking forward to lots of productions and workshops and readings and developmental labs of new plays, including, I hope, my own.

In my adolescence, I was fortunate to meet the right person at the right time. I’m speaking of my mentor, Rich Roesberg.

There’s no one who has made a greater influence on my cultural life.

Growing up in the Pine Barrens and surrounding environs of southern New Jersey made artistic and intellectual engagement hard to come by. People who, last decade, abhorred the encroachment of big-box chain bookstores, to the supposed detriment of small independent bookshops, had no idea what it was like growing up in a place with no bookstore nearby. If there had been a Borders bookstore anywhere near me when I was growing up, it would have been a godsend.

As it was, though, I had my own godsend. One day my mother went into a Hallmark greeting-card store in a strip mall to buy some cards. The store also carried books — in fact, it was called Blatt’s Books — and I found in the back some secondhand comic-books. What I discovered when I took them to the front counter was the assistant manager, an elder in his late 20’s named Rich Roesberg, and a conversation about comic books that over the 35+ years since then has broadened into art, music, politics, and much, much more. “Uncle Rich,” as my gang and I started calling him, became my oasis.

Here’s an abbreviated list of what I found through him during my impressionable adolescent years:

1. A deep admiration for Brian Wilson, Van Dyke Parks and the Beach Boys
2. An appreciation for dada and surrealism
3. R. Crumb
4. John Cage
5. Cut-up (Brion Gysin’s technique)
6. Soupy Sales
7. The Bonzo Dog Doodah Band
8. Jean Shepherd
9. Bob & Ray
10. Steve Ditko (it was Roesberg who made me see how wonderful his work is)
11. Bill Irwin
12. Ernie Kovacs
13. Steve Allen
14. Uncle Floyd
15. Charles Bukowski
16. John Fante
17. Alfred Jarry
18. William S. Burroughs

This week is Comic-Con. But before I get fully immersed in comic books, I thought I’d share this profile of comic writer Jack Handey (he of “Deep Thoughts”). Handey has a comic novel coming out, of which the title alone compels me (“The Stench of Honolulu”). I think I’m going to read that, and suspect at least a few of my friends might want to too. (RCR, are you listening?)

This Saturday night is your last chance to see “The Size of Pike.” Here’s where to get tickets (and it’s almost sold out)  and this link will take you to the reviews (all of them good). I’m sorry to see the show close, but I’m extremely grateful for the gift of having seen it again, in my home theatre, done in an entirely different way than its original production.

What am I speaking of? This was a production of a play of mine that we first did in 1997, newly mounted now as part of our 20th anniversary season at Moving Arts. It now occurs to me that the LA Weekly did a story on our anniversary season, but I forgot to post it here. So here it is. (My wife’s response to the recent — and not-recent photos in this piece:  “Wow, your hair used to be dark!”) We’re currently running my good friend Trey Nichols’ play “Fathers at a Game” in Hollywood. (I saw it last week and was immensely impressed. It’s a terrific production of a play that I’m just as excited about now as I was 18 years ago when I picked it for production.) Next up:  our multi-part one-act festival. Stay tuned.

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.”

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.)

I had a meeting today over drinks where the following conversation took place verbatim. The two speaking had just gotten onto the topic of music.

Woman (30’s, attractive blonde):  My husband has an organ.

Man (30’s, also good-looking):  How big is it?

Woman:  It’s pretty big. He keeps it in the garage.

Man:  Can I come see it?

Woman:  I can send a picture. He takes it out and plays with it now and then.

If I put that into a play, no one would buy it.