Revivals Are Easy, Right?

*The following was written on April 30th 2012*

Anyone who has read any of the Neon Fringe Director’s Blogs before will know that I like to tell the truth. Whether it’s about the difficulties we have encountered trying to stage a play in a café, or the realisation that the script has problems that are in need of a major fix, my approach is the same: just write about it. Even if it means a) being wrong, b) coming across as a twat, or c) both. I like to think it makes for good reading and gives some sense as to what it is like for a small independent company to mount a production with limited resources in a city not known for giving breaks.

As you know, L.A. Blues is coming back. The expectation was that it would be easy. We still have the set, access to the costumes and tech equipment, as well as the same cast and crew. All we had to do was arrange a date with the venue and update the publicity material to reflect the new performance dates. Rehearsals would be minimal; nothing was changing. All the cast needed to do was re-learn their lines. It was to be a hassle-free production.

Yeah. Not quite. It turns out one of the actors cannot be involved. Which, for anyone who hasn’t seen it yet, is 20% of the cast. Not exactly ideal. So rather than the laid-back rehearsal period we had planned, we now have five weeks to find a new actor and slot him into the production. Which means pressure, stress, uncertainty and, worst of all, auditions.

Now, I don’t know about other directors but I hate auditions. I am aware of their necessity but I still hate doing them. The audition environment is an unfair one – how often has someone nailed an audition only to prove a total flop in the actual production? And what about those that do not audition well but, if given the chance, really can deliver?

Forgetting about the actor (who, let’s face it, has a pretty shit time of it), the audition process is far from enjoyable for the director. Sitting through the same piece of text as a procession of actors overact, underact and otherwise waste your time, waiting and hoping for just one that stands out. And what if there is more than one who makes an impression? Then there is the who-do-I-choose dilemma – the fear that you will make the wrong choice and doom the production to mediocrity, or worse. This, before taking into account those who arrive at the audition full of energy, personality and enthusiasm, only to turn out to be difficult, negative assholes. Personality plays a part. It doesn’t matter how good someone is if they are a prick; I don’t want to work with them – it’s not worth the effort.

But that’s not all. Leaving aside the hassle of auditioning, I have a bigger issue to fret over: We knew the show was good and we decided to revive it based on that. What if, after pushing to bring in a new audience, something doesn’t work this time around? What if we can’t pull the show together in time? What if the new guy turns out to be a) rubbish, b) an asshole, or c) both? What if, what if, what if. My stress levels are currently much higher than they should be. This was supposed to be a walk in the park. Right now, it feels like anything but. Auditions are tomorrow. We’ll see how it goes.

The Return of the Blues

* The following was written on the April 25th 2012 *

Back by popular demand. It’s not a phrase I like. It annoys me, if I’m honest. What exactly does it mean? Have you ever seen a protest march calling for the revival of a play? Signed a petition to show that society just won’t be the same without that production of whatever returning to the stage? I didn’t think so. And yet a lot of the time, we are going to see plays that the populous have demanded come back. The last production that I paid good money to see has returned for a second run. Seemingly, the theatre-going public have demanded it. Why, I’m not sure. It wasn’t much cop the first time around and I can’t imagine anyone who saw it really wants to see it again. But posters don’t lie, do they?

Back by popular demand, in actuality, has nothing to do with the public. But it sounds great. It sounds like your production was so good, so very very good, that people have been beating down your door imploring you to stage another run. In truth, the production company wants to run the show again and back by popular demand is a sure-fire way of letting people know that your production is great. So great that they have one more chance to see it again. It’s bullshit.

Which is why you will not find back by popular demand on the flyers and posters for the revival of L.A. Blues – A Musical Noir. Not because it doesn’t deserve to return but because we at Neon Fringe are trying to be honest about what we do. Yes, we do think the show is great and yes, we have had people ask us if we would be doing it again. But we have not been inundated by petitions or had protests staged outside our offices and houses. Any small theatre company who claims they do is probably lying.

At the end of the day, the show is back because we feel that it deserves another shot. The response to the first run was overwhelmingly positive. And we know there is an audience who missed it the first time around. Also, we enjoyed it. We want to do it again because we had fun.

So there you have it. L.A. Blues is back. But not by popular demand. Please come and see it.

I Had To Have Her

So we changed the play. It’s now a kitchen-sink drama about a Spaniard who marries into an Amish community in Indiana. And it is electric. Without the electricity of course.

Seriously though, we have changed L.A. Blues. But not drastically. The problem was the opening scene. Without going into details (spoilers and all that, ask me after you’ve seen it), the play opened in a very specific style with a very specific goal. The problem with this was that neither were really appropriate to the remainder of the play. This I knew from the beginning. I wrote the scene knowing it didn’t quite work. I figured that I would work it out later (you’d be surprised at how successful that approach often is). I tried different things, from minor changes to complete rewrites. But no matter what I did, I could not get the play to work as a whole with that scene included. So I did what all stubborn people do. I left it in and ploughed on.

The first indication that I was wrong to do so was the fact that most of the cast misunderstood the purpose of the scene. Bad writing on my part, I guess. So I explained it to them, fully expecting everyone to get on board and realised that, in fact, they were wrong and I was right. But no. Feedback was given and while it was difficult to hear, it was correct. The opening scene, as was, could only have a negative effect on the play as a whole. At worst, the audience would be angry. At best, confused. Not ideal.

So, it’s gone. Not altered. Not rewritten. Gone. And the play is better for it. Minor characters have more significance and character arcs more resonance. Most importantly, the audience will identify with all of the characters in a more meaningful way. Removing that one scene changes the ending and, to an extent, the tone of the whole play. In a good way. I dearly love my original idea and will use it at some point in the future, but in a play that needs and benefits from it. One of the dangers of directing one’s own work is having blinders to the faults that may exist within that work. Having people around that can and will point this out is vital. I’m not ashamed to say I was wrong. The play is now stronger than it was. And I’m proud of that. I just wish I’d listened sooner.

Ultra Wanky Model Box Photographs

It has been suggested (by more than one person I'll have you know) that I post my model box photographs. So here they are. Enjoy.

 

No Time For Small Talk

And now it’s time to talk about Kevin. Not really. It’s actually time to talk about The Zumbo Lounge. More specifically, the look of The Zumbo Lounge.

If any of you have ever been to the Cobalt Café on North Great George’s Street you’ll know that it is a stunning Georgian house with a really funky café on the ground floor. And anyone who has ever been to one of (co-producer) Winedark Production’s shows will know that it really is a great venue for cabaret style entertainment. Where better, then, to stage L.A. Blues?

Right from conception, the play was designed to be performed in The Cobalt Café. A site-specific location (using one of the definitions of that seemingly straightforward but actually somewhat confusing theatrical term) would allow the audience to be both spectator and participant. So The Cobalt Café becomes The Zumbo Lounge, the audience of the former becoming the audience in the latter. Which is all very well and good. Except that is makes it difficult for the audience (whether spectating or participating) to see what is going on. So we need a set. Which means designing a set. Something simple. Something that will give height but not detract from the aesthetic of the existing location. Easy done. The design, that is. Not everything else that followed.

I had the designs and layouts. I’d even done scale models using my model-box. Which sounds ultra wanky I know, but miniatures can be really cool and it did allow the actors to make sense of what we’ve been doing blocking wise before we get a chance to get into the venue proper. I’d priced the wood. I’d arranged equipment to cut it to size and a location to build everything. But, and this is a pretty big but, I had no way of getting the wood to where I needed it. Which was more than somewhat frustrating. Some of you may have noticed my plea for a van on Facebook a short while ago. This was a last ditch attempt to get things in motion early. Alas, I failed. So far...

But it is yet another thing to worry about. Never mind dealing with the actors and printers and costumers and all that other stuff... Still, I live for stress. Or so I try to convince myself. Because I don’t really. I hate stress. Hate it. I’m a fan of being prepared. Like the scouts, but indoor. But I’m resigned to the stress coming. I just didn’t expect it so soon. I’m not worried about the set per se – once we get it all sorted, it will look cool (there’s that word again – anyone would think we’re working on a 1990s indie movie starring Johnny Depp). Cool yet functional. Like an esky designed by Apple. 

Booking Lines Now Open!

Extra! Extra! Read all about it!

The booking lines are now open.

If you want to reserve tickets for L.A. Blues (and if not, why not?) then you can do so by following one of these very simple procedures:

Call 086-0591346. Let us know who you are, how many tickets you want and for which night.

Or: 

Email neonfringe@gmail.com and let us know who you are, how many tickets you want and for which night.

Spaces are limited so please do book early to avoid disappointment.

I Bought Her a Drink, She Blew Smoke in My Face

With opening night rapidly approaching (don’t worry cast members, it’s still a long way off), rehearsals are well underway.  For the first few weeks we had been working in isolation - acting and music rehearsals kept separate, allowing each of the performers to work on their own parts before we attempted a combination.

Until Thursday.

Last week we had our first proper run of the play with the musical elements included. And it wasn’t half bad. It wasn’t even a quarter bad. In fact, it was pretty good. So much time had been spent working on the ‘acting’ that I had forgotten just how much of a part the music has to play in the production. Suddenly the very serious dramatic scenes carried more weight and there was a much better flow to the piece as a whole. Obviously, as the play was designed and written this way, it shouldn’t have come as such a revelation. But there you go.

Not everything worked. Not every segue works as well in reality as it does on the page. How many of the songs are in-character performances? External commentary? Both? On a more specific level, one of the songs is far too long and really drags a scene down. This has nothing to do with the choice of song, or indeed the performance. The problem is a combination of context, length and situation. We’ll have to make changes to ensure that it works but I don’t doubt that it will.