Of Fall, Hot Tin, and Names Above the Title

Posted by Bruce Miller
Fall is really here. The calendar says we have to wait till Sept 23, but I'm not buyin'. The 2011-12 theatre season is well underway, marked by the openings of Central VA's first comedy of the year (Lend Me a Tenor), drama (Cat on a Hot Tin Roof), and musical (Keep on the Sunny Side).

As Lucian Restivo from Stage B posted Friday on Facebook, "it's cardigan and scarf weather," and he couldn't be happier. After the dog days of summer, I'm right there with him.

I made my reservations for Hot Tin and I'm really looking forward to it. It's definitely one of the new season's highlights for me. I loved Who's Afraid last season from the same Rusty Wilson / Firehouse directing / producing team. Hot Tin is a great play--a masterwork--and Rusty's assembled an unbeatable cast: Alan Sader, Laine Satterfield, Adrian Rieder, Jackie Jones, Larry Cook, Dean Knight, Andy Boothby, Laura Rikard, Stephanie M. Hill, and three talented no-neck-monsters.

Susie Haubenstock wrote a great review, and I've heard nothing but glowing word-of-mouth. If you don't have your tickets yet, I encourage you to get them. I suspect they'll start selling out most performances pretty soon.

I'm excited that Rusty will be directing In the Next Room or the vibrator play with Cadence in Barksdale's Theatre Gym next summer.

This coming Friday, we'll open Becky's New Car, a very clever and contemporary new comedy from Steven Dietz, at Hanover Tavern. We're trying something new, and if you have a reaction, I'd love to hear it.

Bouncing off my desire to celebrate and promote Richmond's "stars" with a little more fanfare, Billy Christopher Maupin, who is not only directing Becky's but marketing it as well, decided to place Melissa Johnston Price's name above the title in our promotional materials--not our standard practice.

At first, I buzzed B C and asked him not to do that again without checking with me first. I was worried about setting precedents and all that. But then I decided that this will be a good experiment.

Melissa Johnston Price is certainly a local star, holding a prominent place in the pantheon of Virginia's most revered actors. And the character of "Becky" certainly is the leading role in the play. Why the heck not let the ticket-buying public know that this is a special opportunity to see an exceptional artist in a terrific part?

Sometimes I think we Richmond producers need to set aside all timidity and begin to blow the horn a little louder about Central Virginia's brightest and best. If we don't, aren't we failing to create the public excitement we need to create in order to grow the overall Richmond audience?

What do you think? When we're lucky enough to have a star in a major role, should we put his or her name above the title? You can communicate with me publicly as a comment to this post, or privately as an email.

I can't type my email directly cause little robots that do nothing but surf blog posts 24/7 pick it up and start sending me even more spam. Or so I'm told by our IT gurus. So here's today's puzzler. My address is: b.miller@ the name of either of our theatres followed by the word Richmond.org.

Thanks.

--Bruce Miller

Three Wonderful Experiences

Posted by Bruce Miller
I just got home. It's 11:15 pm. I rehearsed from 10 to 5 today, teching Smoke on the Mountain Homecoming. And now I'll be up for several hours preparing for the adult Sunday School class that I'll lead tomorrow morning at 9:30 am. I have no time to write this, and three things that I have to write about:

1 -- last night's Opening of the Paul and Phyllis Galanti Education Center at the Virginia War Memorial, where I was privileged to be from 6 pm until 7:50 pm;

2 -- last night's Opening of Shipwrecked! An Entertainment at Barksdale Theatre at Willow Lawn, where I was delighted to be from 8:05 pm until around 11:30ish (there was a party); and

3 -- tonight's performance of Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? at the Firehouse, that I was thrilled to attend.

I'll say this and then write more about each of these three rewarding events later.

In many ways, Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? is one of the best theatrical productions I've ever seen in Richmond. It's an intense, demanding and disturbing play. If you're timid, prudish or care only for theatre that delights and entertains, it may not be your cup of tea and sympathy.

However, if you care about theatre that digs deep, that provokes, startles, questions and challenges--if you care about professional theatre as an art form and a calling, and support its practice in Central Virginia, ring up or log into the Firehouse box office today and reserve your tickets ASAP.

More later.

--Bruce Miller

To Bare or not to Bare, that is the question

By Bob Albertia

Tonight, April 11, 2008 is the opening night of Barksdale's production of THE LITTLE DOG LAUGHED, a 2007 Broadway hit. Over the past few weeks, it has come to my attention that some of our patrons have commented that this play offends them to one degree or another, and they have chosen not to attend. We respect the opinions of all of our patrons and appreciate feedback on our production choices and presentations.

In view of recent comments, both pro and con, I, as an actor for fifty-plus years, would like to reflect on past Barksdale productions and their impact on the community. Over the years, Barksdale Theatre has a history of presenting edgy, provocative and caring theatre resulting in critically acclaimed productions dealing with alcoholism (Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf), homosexuality (The Boys In The Band), nudity (Equus) to name a few, and all highly praised by the audience and critics alike.

In short, my reason for writing this post, is to point out that theatres are a place for storytelling and commentary, presenting us with a look at ourselves, the nation and the world. We go to museums and view paintings of war, death, love, destruction and nudity and are in awe of artists who have so brilliantly painted scenes on canvas or delicately carved statues out of a block of stone. Theatre too, from its simple beginnings of telling stories and entertaining us, is still a platform for letting each of us take a good look at our ourselves and the world around us. From the safety of our theatre seat, we can investigate the complex and emotional issues at the heart of a production like The Boys in the Band, Equus, or in this case, The Little Dog Laughed.

As a member of the theatre staff, I applaud Barksdale Theatre in continuing the legacy of Muriel McAuley and Pete and Nancy Kilgore in presenting the highest caliber of theatre in all of its forms; bold and brash comedy, on the edge drama and tap your toes and sing along musicals. I can't wait to see tonight's show and experience yet another opening night and share those feelings with both old and new friends alike.

- Bob Albertia

Word of the Week - BANDY

Posted by Hannah Miller
Welcome to the third Word of the Week. From March 3 until 7, I had the chance to spend my Junior Work Week volunteering at Barksdale. It was a great experience being with the staff for five days. Phil, Brad and Janine (my supervisors) let me spend a full day and a half working on this column. Thanks to Barksdale’s accounting, marketing, development and costume staffs for letting me share their offices.

This week’s theatre artist is EDWARD ALBEE, and the word is BANDY.

Edward Albee is often named as America’s greatest living playwright. His credo is that each of his plays should “bring its audience some special sense of awareness of the times.” He celebrated his 80th birthday this past week on March 12.

Edward Albee was adopted into an affluent family and lived a pampered childhood as the grandson of a vaudeville producer. He did not have an admirable school record. After getting kicked out of a boarding school and a military academy for bad conduct, he finally found his place at Choate where he discovered his love for writing. He wrote many poems, short stories, a play and a novel, working sometimes for 18 hours a day.

After graduating from Choate, Albee left home and spent a decade studying at several universities, working a variety of jobs, and attending theatre as often as possible. During a state of depression, he wrote his first successful play, The Zoo Story. Originally rejected in New York for being too “experimental,” the play was recognized by reader after reader and finally premiered in Berlin in 1959.

Albee then went on to write other plays that proved to be controversial in many quarters. In the preface to the first published edition of The American Dream, which was written to bring attention to the shortcomings of American values, Albee wrote that the play was "a stand against the fiction that everything in this slipping land of ours is peachy-keen. Is it offensive? I certainly hope so; it was my intention to offend ... as well as amuse and entertain.”

In 1962, Albee created even more controversy with his most successful play, Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?, for which he received a Drama Desk and Tony Award. Though he was shortlisted for the Pulitzer Prize, the controversy kept him from winning.

In 1961, Albee helped found the Playwrights Unit. This project was meant to provide a jump-start to young, inexperienced playwrights, an opportunity that he did not have when he wrote The Zoo Story.

In Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?, when Nick tells George that he isn’t planning on working as a professor forever, George replies, “Well don’t let that get BANDIED about. The old man wouldn’t like it. Martha’s father expects loyalty and devotion out of his…staff.”

BANDY – (ˈban-dē) verb – to bat (as a ball) to and fro, or
to discuss back and forth in a casual or offhand manner—often used with about

The verb, to bandy, comes from the game of Bandy, which began as an open air, warm weather sport in which opposing teams try to take control of the ball and land it in their opponent’s goal. In Romeo and Juliet, Act III Scene 1, Shakespeare writes, “The Prince expressly hath forbidden Bandying in the Verona streets.”

Some time in the 18th century, the warm weather version of the sport became better known as Field Hockey, and the winter version, played on frozen lakes and fens, took over the name Bandy. Ice Hockey, played in a smaller rink and with a puck instead of a ball, was developed in Nova Scotia in the 19th century. But it was in the 20th century that the verb to bandy first fell into popular usage, usually associated with the back and forth tossing of ideas or gossip.

George makes a great deal of Nick’s athletic prowess throughout Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolfe? Perhaps that’s why Albee had George, a professor who obviously relishes language, use a quasi-athletic term to describe Nick's idle chitchat.

Edward Albee is continuing to work in the theatre today. In honor of his 80th birthday, several of his plays are being performed Off-Broadway, including The American Dream and The Sandbox. Both of these are directed by, who else? -- Albee himself!

--Hannah Miller

Postscript - I was in Lancaster PA last night watching Hannah Zold's TERRIFIC performance in All Shook Up at the Dutch Apple Dinner Theatre, when the character of Dennis used the word bunk, not once but several times, to describe the life philosophies espoused by the leading character Chad. Bunk, of course, is the shortened version of our first Word of the Week, buncombe.

For Tonight's Performance, the Role of ...

Posted by Bruce Miller

Few things are more disappointing in the world of theatre attendance than sitting down for a show you’ve been looking forward to, and discovering that little slip of paper in your playbill, or hearing that dreaded announcement over the loud speaker – “For tonight’s performance, the role of (insert the name of a pivotal role here), usually played by (insert the name of the actor you’ve been waiting six weeks to see here), will be played by (insert the name of an actor you’ve never heard of here).”

There’s a very funny section in Scrambled Feet, the hit Off Broadway satirical revue from 1979, that goes like this: “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. At tonight’s performance of Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf, the part of Martha, usually played by Kathryn Hepburn, will be performed tonight by our lovely stage manager, Carla Agump. The part of Nick, usually played by Al Pacino, will be performed tonight by Shlomo Pincus. The part of Honey, usually played by Madelyn Kahn, will be deleted from the script for this evening’s performance. And the part of George, normally played by George C. Scott, will be performed tonight by our talented lighting designer, Yoshitero Nakamura. Enjoy the show!”

There I sat at Hanover Tavern last Saturday evening, knowing what I was about to hear, but still not quite prepared for the enormity of it when it finally came. “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to Barksdale Theatre’s production of Neil Simon’s The Odd Couple. At tonight’s performance, the role of Roy normally played by Steve Moore will be played by Joe Pabst. The role of Cecily Pigeon normally played by Jennifer Meharg will be played by Vickie McLeod. And the role of Felix Unger, normally played by Scott Wichmann, will be played this evening by Richard Koch.”

Now I’m not meaning to equate Richard Koch with “an actor you’ve never heard of” or “our talented lighting designer, Yoshitero Nakamura.” Richard, Vickie and Joe are all stars in their own right. Nonetheless, hearing that there will be three replacements, one of them a lead, in a cast of only seven, sounds daunting. It gives one pause.

But then the show started. Joe Pabst was up first, filling in for Steve who needed to be with his family in Danville. And Joe was great! The poker scene just pinged right along. If anything, it was tighter and funnier than when I last saw it five weeks ago. Then Richard had his big entrance as Felix Unger. He started out slow, as the character is meant to, but after only ten minutes, he had the audience eating out of the palm of his hand.

By the time Vickie entered, no one even remembered that there were understudies performing in that evening's show. Vickie, just like Richard and Joe, was perfection, and the entire show was an absolute delight. I missed the original cast, of course. They also are terrific. But I can’t tell you how proud I was of the three temporary replacements.

It says a lot about the depth of talent that exists in Richmond that three new actors can step into a show without missing a beat. They brought their own charms and talents to the roles, found new and exciting moments, and honored the original production just enough so that no one in the rest of the cast was thrown at all. It was a joy to watch. I was glad I came home early from vacation just to catch this performance.

On behalf of all the audience members who laughed themselves silly, thanks to Richard, Vickie, Joe, and everyone else involved. As Scott, Jen and Steve all return to the show this week, they can rest assured that their standby's did them proud!

--Bruce Miller

My Lunch with Arthur Miller

Posted by Bruce Miller

Four years before Phil Whiteway and I started Theatre IV, I worked summer stock in Southbury, Connecticut. The year was 1971, and I had just finished my junior year at the University of Richmond. None of us knew it at the time, but many if not most of the wonderful summer stock theatres that had thrived throughout New England for over 30 years were on their last legs. After the glory days of the 40s, 50s and 60s, true summer stock theatres were fast becoming a thing of the past.

A true summer stock theatre—at least this is how it was explained to me—produced ten shows in ten weeks, or twelve shows in twelve weeks. During each one week run, the show ran for eight performances, opening on a Tuesday and closing Sunday night.

If you worked for an official straw hat theatre (named for the fashionable headgear that gentlemen donned when the temperatures began to rise), the acting companies were booked in. They brought their own costumes and hand props, and the theatre built the sets and provided lights and sound. If you worked for a summer stock company that wasn’t a part of the official straw hat circuit—the Southbury Summer Playhouse wasn’t—then you created everything from scratch and nothing was booked in. The actors were part of a rep company, half of whom did nothing but act while the other half acted occasionally and worked their donkeys off every minute they weren’t on stage.

Our ten shows at Southbury in the summer of ’71 were Arsenic and Old Lace, Barefoot in the Park, Boys in the Band, Bus Stop, Cactus Flower, The Mousetrap, See How They Run, Under the Yum Yum Tree, West Side Story, and Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? At least that’s what my fading memory tells me they were. I was the props master for all ten shows, I helped out with any and everything else as needed, I played a lead in See How They Run and tiny supporting parts in Arsenic and Cactus.

The work was grueling, pretty much 9 a.m. until midnight or 1 seven days a week. Our only off time was Wednesday from noon until 6, when about 12 of us would pile into two cars and drive into NYC to buy standing room tickets to a Broadway hit. There was no TKTS booth, but standing room cost only $3, if memory serves.

I had the time of my life!

Even in those days when summer stock theatres were still fairly plentiful, jobs were hard to come by. You more or less had to know someone. I knew my college roommate and best pal Rick Gehr from Binghamton, New York. Rick knew his high school buddy Richard Ebeling, who had somehow managed to get a job at Southbury in 1970, and was not returning in ’71. Ebeling put in a good word for Gehr, and Gehr put in a good word for me. Rick Gehr and I took a bus up to Southbury to interview and audition with the producer, W. Thomas Littleton, and we both were cast.

We were paid $75 a week, and each of us paid $25 a week to rent a bed from Mr. and Mrs. Anderson, who owned a big white frame house about ten minutes up the road in Woodbury (pictured to the left). If we wanted to eat dinner at the Andersons, that was an additional $3 per meal. All in all, we scraped by.

I have a million stories, but one of my favorites involved Arthur Miller, who lived about 8 minutes away in Roxbury. That's his house in the picture to the right. Early in our 12-week contract, one of the locals drove us around to visit the houses of the famous people who were our neighbors in the Litchfield Hills—Arthur Miller, Alexander Calder, Jerzy Kosinsky, William Styron, John Updike, Richard Widmark, Sylvia Sidney, etc. Today you can add Dustin Hoffman, Frank McCourt and Stephen Sondheim to the list.

When we got to Arthur Miller’s house, I was stunned to see that his mailbox had Miller written on it in big block letters just like my parents’ mailbox at home in Virginia. I made them stop the car and take my picture next to the mailbox. I have no idea where that photo is today. Behind and to the side of Miller's white frame house is the studio he build in the late 40s, pictured above and to the left. It was in this studio that he wrote Death of a Salesman, The Crucible, and most of his other great plays.

Anyway, one day I was taking a lunch break from my desperate search for free props, and I sat down at the lunch counter at Canfield Corner Pharmacy in Woodbury. I was sitting by myself eating a sandwich when a man in his 50s sat down on the counter stool next to me. The man who ran the lunch counter came over and said, “Hello, Mr. Miller.” I looked up, thinking he was talking to me, and wondering how he knew my name. It was instantly obvious from his gaze that he was talking to the fellow sitting next to me. I glanced over just long enough to realize that the man sitting five inches from my elbow was none other than the legendary Arthur Miller himself. He ordered a corn beef on rye, and we sat there silently until both of us had eaten our sandwiches and he went on his way. I never had the nerve to say anything, but I tried to soak it all in as much as I could.

Last week, I took my family back up to Southbury, Woodbury, Roxbury and Washington CT. Washington made the list because it’s the neighboring town that served as the inspiration for Stars Hollow on one of my family's favorite TV shows, The Gilmore Girls. The interior and signage of Crossroads Cafe, the diner that served as a model for Luke's on The G G, are featured in the photos to the left and right. As you can see, the church is across the street in Washington just as it is in Stars Hollow.

Unfortunately, the barn that served as home to the Southbury Summer Playhouse was torn down decades ago, but we still had a grand time visiting my old haunts.

While there, we stopped in a framing shop in Woodbury to ask for directions to Alexander Calder’s house, and met with a lovely young lady who asked if I knew Bill C. Davis. I told her that I’d just met him at the world premiere of Austin’s Bridge at the Firehouse in Richmond, and that he seemed very nice. Turns out she’s his hiking partner, and he now lives in that part of the world as well. She told me that he really is the nicest guy in the world, and asked me all about what I thought about Austin’s Bridge. I shared my opinions, and referred her to my earlier entry in this blog.

It was a great trip, and a wonderful chance to remember again my lunch with Arthur Miller.

--Bruce Miller