Little Dog's Opening Night - with Playwright & Composer in the house

By Judi Crenshaw, Barksdale's Publicist

By the time opening night of The Little Dog Laughed rolled around, those of us involved in the build up to the show were relieved that the public was finally going to see what we’ve been promoting, defending, gushing over, justifying, and generally maneuvering our way around. It’s been an exhilarating and challenging few weeks. But through it all we have loved the play. When I first read it last year --- belly laughing and gleefully muttering to myself, “Are we really going to do this?” --- I loved the language, envied the wit, and poured over illegal Little Dog video of Julie White and Tom Everett Scott on YouTube.

I watched some legit internet clips too, and quickly zeroed in on interviews with playwright Douglas Carter Beane. Funny. Razor sharp. Self-effacing. You gotta love those Broadway big-wigs. But mostly they stay on Broadway. To be admired from my computer. Like Julie White and Tom Everett Scott (with some extra Google Images time devoted to Tom). So when Susan Sanford let it slip that DCB might actually be coming to our opening night I was elated for about 3 seconds, and then my stomach started slipping south. In the theatrical world of non-stop measuring up, with a guy who clearly is way past any mark I’ll ever know, would the Barksdale production come anywhere close?

Doug Beane walked in the Barksdale door with a wide grin and extended hand. He was genuinely friendly. Doug came with Lewis Flinn, his partner of many years and composer of Little Dog music as well as loads of other Broadway and TV scores. I was relieved that these two guys were regular people. Okay, über successful, smart, and witty regular people. They seemed downright tickled to be here. They oogled over the photos in the lobby (which are stunning, thanks to Jay Paul). They introduced us to Lewis’ parents who are Barksdale patrons. They bounded up the stairs greeting everyone and spreading goodwill.

But my stomach had not caught up with how jolly our guests seem to be. I am still nervous about the measuring up. I keep sneaking glances at them during the show. They are getting a kick out of Susan’s performance and looking around at everyone else getting a kick out of Susan. Every time Laine Satterfield comes on, DCB inches forward in his seat and smiles. I think these are good things and I relax. Then the bed gets stuck halfway along its intended downstage trajectory. John is slyly propping up a set panel while lying on the stuck bed and I am praying that Matt will not whack his head on the panel looming over the crazy stuck bed. The crew is trying to yank it from behind, pull it, FIX IT! FIX IT! There is some banging and dropping of metal. I am no longer relaxed. Susan has been masterfully “working” her laryngitis but it is getting a tighter grip. I am now avoiding any glances whatsoever in the direction of Doug and Lewis.

I do look around, though, at everyone else in the audience and they are completely engrossed in the play. They are rooting for the two guys to be together. They are laughing, intrigued, appalled, touched, engaged. I know these things are good. And I know that this was an important choice for Barksdale and a deeply personal quest for Bruce Miller. I know we have pushed some patrons past their comfort zone and we are grateful to the people who will give this play a chance. I know we measure up for all the right reasons, even with the f***ing bed malfunction. I think that Doug Beane knows this too.

After the show, there was a rare chance to celebrate play and playwright, director and cast, supporters and friends. Host Bill Hall put together a truly elegant bash that would have been the envy of any New Yorker. I felt a little silly with my Kodak One-Shot and home camcorder in hand, but we wanted to share the love!

THANK YOU Douglas Carter Beane and Lewis Flinn!!

- Judi Crenshaw

'It's Never Boring' & Director's Notes for The Little Dog Laughed

It's been a busy few weeks here at Barksdale and Theatre IV. We just opened Greater Tuna at Hanover Tavern (great review in the TD!), closed Doubt: A Parable at Willow Lawn and had a successful Virginia Arts and Letters Live event at the Empire Theatre.

On the Theatre IV side, Peter Pan and the Fairy Tale Ball preparations are in full swing. You can see more about both on the TIV blog. Amidst the chaos at the Empire Theatre today, our new touring show, The Air We Share, commissioned by GRTC and written by Scott Wichmann, finished its last rehearsal before heading off to schools tomorrow morning. And of course the move-out of our storage/shop space at Tom Perry's.

That's the Cliff Notes version of the last few weeks. Now our marketing/PR/box office focus shifts more towards The Little Dog Laughed. And now, we realize this show may be more controversial than we previously expected. I personally have been very excited about this show and consider it a great addition to the season, but it does contain some language and content that may not be for everyone. Since everyone may not have a chance to read Bruce Miller's director's notes that we will publish in the program, we thought it would be nice to post them here and perhaps answer some questions.

-Sara Marsden

"Why The Little Dog Laughed"
by Bruce Miller

In November of 2006, Virginia passed the Marshall-Newman Amendment, also referred to as the Virginia Marriage Amendment, by a 57% majority. In so doing, voters amended the Virginia Constitution to define marriage as “solely between one man and one woman,” and to ban recognition of any status "approximat[ing] the design, qualities, significance, or effects of marriage.”

This was the first time in Virginia history that our constitution was amended to deny the rights of certain individuals. Virginia is now the only state in the nation to ban marriage-like contracts between unmarried partners. In The Washington Post, Jonathan Rauch wrote, “Virginia appears to abridge gay individuals’ right to enter into private contracts with each other. On its face, the law could interfere with wills, medical directives, powers of attorney, child custody and property arrangements, even perhaps joint bank accounts.”

In March of 1924, Virginia’s legislature passed the Racial Integrity Act. It required that a racial description of every person be recorded at birth, and made marriage between “white persons” and “non-white persons” a felony. Just like the Marshall-Newman Amendment, the Racial Integrity Act gave Virginia the dubious honor of having the nation’s strictest laws on who could and could not fall in love, be married, or recognized as legal partners within the state’s borders.

In 1958, Mildred Jeter (a woman of white, African-American and Native American heritage) and Richard Loving (a white man) fell in love in the racially mixed, low income farmland of Caroline County, Virginia. Because of Virginia’s Racial Integrity Act, they travelled to Washington, D. C. to get married. Shortly after their return to Virginia, police burst into their bedroom at 3 a.m., arrested man and wife, and carried them away to jail. The Lovings pleaded guilty to being married; they were sentenced to one year in prison. I welcome you to visit the Barksdale blog to read more about this couple. Type Loving Virginia theatre into Google, and it will take you right there.

In 1967, Virginia’s Racial Integrity Act was declared unconstitutional by the U. S. Supreme Court, ending misogenation laws nationwide. Today, virtually all those who objected vigorously to interracial marriage in the first half of the 20th Century (major political parties, churches, general public) have changed their minds.

It may take another generation, it may take longer, but I hope, pray and believe that during my children’s lifetimes, our state’s and our nation’s prejudice toward gay couples will go the way of yesteryear’s opposition to interracial marriage. I think the more we see gay characters loving each other on our TV screens, in our cineplexes, and on our stages, the quicker that day will come.

I’m reminded of President Kennedy when he made his historic, world-uniting speech in 1963. “Ich bin ein Berliner.” I am a Berliner. Set aside for a moment the urban myth that purports that “Berliner” in German vernacular means “jelly doughnut” rather than “citizen of Berlin.” John Kennedy’s clear intention was to take his stand beside, with and among West Germans shortly after the Communist state of East Germany erected the Berlin Wall as a barrier to restrict the freedom of its citizens.

I love The Little Dog Laughed because, as freedoms are being restricted here at home, it proudly seeks to establish solidarity with gay men and women who are feeling increasingly isolated and ostracized by the so-called Defense of Marriage agenda. The play suggests that love between two consenting adults is more vital, powerful and sacred than any credo or code. It shows that building barriers to limit love is hypocritical for societies, industries and individuals who pretend to salute freedom and embrace equality. It does so with a sense of humor. If we can laugh at this hypocracy, then perhaps we can also get beyond it.

-Bruce Miller

Rambling Thoughts on a Running Theme

Posted by Bruce Miller

The playwrights from this year’s Signature Season are a somewhat diverse lot, but there’s a common thread that ties several of them together.

The late Carson McCullers (The Member of the Wedding) wrote with the distinctive voice of a young woman reared in a small Southern town during the 1930s and 40s. Ron Hutchinson (Moonlight and Magnolias) is an Irish-born playwright who came to fame in England and now lives in LA, working predominantly for the film industry.

John Patrick Shanley (Doubt, pictured to the left) is a former Marine who was raised in the Bronx. His writing has earned him an Oscar (Moonstruck), a Tony Award and the Pulitzer Prize (Doubt). Douglas Carter Beane (The Little Dog Laughed) is a gay playwright who grew up in rural Pennsylvania, and wrote the libretto for the current Broadway musical Xanadu, a re-make of the 1970s cult film. Beane is currently writing the libretto for the upcoming stage musical remake of The Band Wagon, now re-titled Dancing in the Dark.

Our summer musical, the great American classic Guys and Dolls, features music and lyrics by Frank Loesser (pictured to the right) and a book by Jo Swerling and Abe Burrows. Frank Loesser, born in 1910 in NYC, also wrote Where’s Charley? (produced by Barksdale in 2003), The Most Happy Fella, How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying, and the songs "Praise the Lord and Pass the Ammunition" and "I Don’t Want to Walk Without You" (currently heard in Swingtime Canteen) and "Baby, It’s Cold Outside" (recently heard in our Holiday Cabaret).

Jo Swerling (co-author of the Guys book) was born in Russia in 1897 and, as a child, fled the Czarist regime with his family, arriving in New York’s lower East Side via Ellis Island. Before working on Guys and Dolls in the late 40s, he was called to Hollywood by Frank Capra, where he helped to “polish” the screenplays of both It’s a Wonderful Life (recently produced as a radio drama by Barksdale’s Bifocals Theatre Project) and Gone With the Wind (the re-screenwriting of which is the subject of Moonlight and Magnolias).

Abe Burrows (the other co-writer of the Guys book, pictured to the left) was a renowned radio writer and comedic performer, who went on to serve as “script doctor” for numerous Broadway and radio shows. Interestingly, Abe Burrows is also the father of James Burrows, the legendary television director of The Mary Tyler Moore Show and co-creator of Cheers.

As Moonlight continues its laugh-a-minute run at Barksdale Willow Lawn (I saw it again last night and it was GREAT), it’s interesting to follow the theme of the un-credited “script doctor” and re-write artist. In Moonlight, Ben Hecht, played by Scott Wichmann, is brought in to rewrite the screenplay for Gone With the Wind. Moonlight playwright Ron Hutchinson (pictured below and to the right) earns a very lucrative living doing the same thing today.

Discussing the movie industry, Hutchinson writes, “Now, as back then, in the last weeks, days and hours before shooting, there’s a mad scramble to finally get the script right. That’s where guys like Ben Hecht came in then and where guys like me come in today. In 25 years as a rewrite man, I’ve been parachuted into movie locations in places such as Morocco, Mexico, Australia, South Africa and really bizarre places such as Burbank.”

Carson McCullers (pictured to the left) has always given credit to her principal “script doctor,” fellow Southerner Tennessee Williams. Douglas Carter Beane (pictured below and to the right) is becoming somewhat of a specialist in rewriting the librettos of vintage movie musicals for contemporary Broadway audiences. And his real-life experience in which unnamed “script doctors” transformed the lead character from gay to straight in the Hollywood adaptation of his Off Broadway hit, As Bees in Honey Drown, inspired the comic story he tells in The Little Dog Laughed.

Both Jo Swerling and Abe Burrows were considered among the foremost “script doctors” working to polish other author’s work in both Hollywood and New York in the 40s through the 70s. In Deathtrap, produced by Barksdale at Hanover Tavern earlier this fall, the lead character of Sidney Bruhl offers to serve as a “script doctor” for a young playwright, citing the fact that George S. Kaufman (pictured to the left) served as his “script doctor” when he was polishing his first play. In his memoirs, Abe Burrows credited his success in the theatre to his work under George S. Kaufman, director of Guys and Dolls.

For many years, the expression, “Get me Abe Burrows!” remained Broadway shorthand for “this script is awful and needs an emergency rewrite.” Burrows himself downplayed his “script doctor” role in his memoirs. “I have... performed surgery on a few shows, but not as many as I'm given credit for. I've been involved in 19 theatrical productions, plus their road company offshoots. Only a few of these have been surgical patients. And I don't usually talk about them. I feel that a fellow who doctors a show should have the same ethical approcah that a plastic surgeon has. It wouldn't be very nice if a plastic surgeon were walking down the street with you, and a beautiful girl approached. And you say, "What a beautiful girl." And the plastic surgeon says, "She was a patient of mine. You should have seen her before I fixed her nose."

Of all our playwrights this season, John Patrick Shanley seems to be the only one who has little to no experience rewriting the scripts of others and/or putting up with others who are brought in to rewrite his work. Long may he wave.

--Bruce Miller