Bay One Acts Festival

Dramaturg Marissa Skudlarek’s series of interviews with BOA writers concludes with a special dual interview of Megan Trout and James Mayagoitia, members of 11th Hour Ensemble and directors of “The Seagull Project.”

11th Hour Ensemble, a San Francisco theater company focusing on physical theater and devised work, appeared in BOA 2011 with the piece “Cloud Flower.” Their newest piece, “The Seagull Project,” which uses Chekhov’s classic play as a jumping-off point to explore what it means to be a young artist, is in this year’s BOA. All of the performers of the piece are credited as its creators, with the (non-performing) Megan Trout and James Mayagoitia as directors.

Marissa: “Devised work” is one of the hottest things in the American theater right now, but some of our readers may not know what that is – and also, the wonderful thing about devised work is that every troupe’s process is different. So, can you tell us a little about your process in creating “The Seagull Project”? What initially made you want to use Chekhov’s The Seagull as a jumping-off point for an exploration of what it means to be a young artist?

Megan: Our process, like all our processes, was rich with ritual and repetition. Every meeting begins with a silent period of time the actors use to strengthen their bodies and sharpen their focus.  We move on to an improvised exercise where the ensemble gets used to each other’s bodies, impulses, and style.  This is an important transition from the hustle and bustle of work or school to a mental state that is ready to create.

Initially, James and I were not sure through which lens we wanted to start exploring The Seagull.  We studied this play intensely in our senior year at San Francisco State University and were indelibly changed by it.  After a few brainstorming sessions, we boiled down our interests to just a few key themes: finding your voice as a young artist, what it means to achieve success, and unrequited love.  These are all pretty hefty ideas. For the sake of our 15 minute piece, James and I decided to focus most intently on finding one’s voice and the struggle to create good art.  We figured this was the most poignant, relatable way into the play.  We hope to expand this piece on to further iterations that will eventually grow into a full length production.

James: The warm-up period that Megan mentioned is just part of the first half of our rehearsals. After the improvisation exercise, we move on to a series of physical exercises that help us build a vocabulary, so that we can all communicate on the same wavelength, when it comes time to talking about and building the piece. These exercises are primarily derived from Anne Bogart and Tina Landau’s Viewpoints, along with several exercises we learned while in drama school. These exercises help heighten the actor’s kinesthetic response, so that he or she is constantly aware of what is happening in time and space on the stage.

The second half of rehearsals, in the early stages at least, are spent doing table-work. Since we didn’t actually have a script for our own piece, the obvious choice was to read Chekhov’s play. After physical work, we would sit down and read the play. After each scene, we would discuss it, analyze it, and see what moments were related to our larger question: when do you find your voice as an artist? Our piece is very much a distillation and abstraction of many scenes that are in The Seagull as well as the moments between scenes, which Chekhov didn’t actually write. This is where our imagination as directors came into play.

Additionally, we also did a series of personal histories, in which Megan and I asked the actors personal questions about the actor’s actual lives, such as, “Have you ever done something artistically, or otherwise, to win over someone’s heart?” “Can you think of a moment when you were most disappointed with yourself?” Transcriptions from these personal histories are interwoven throughout the piece. Let’s see if all you Chekhov lovers out there can spot them!

Marissa: Chekhov’s plays are known for their understatement, subtext, and repressed, constrained characters. 11^th Hour is a devised-work physical theater ensemble. What was it like to be inspired by a writer whose work would not seem to lend itself to physicality? Did that cause any difficulties during the process?

Megan: What’s so nice about physicalized theatre is that it gives those repressed, constrained characters an outlet for everything that’s boiling under the surface.  It delves into what is REALLY happening with these people on a subconscious, internal level.  It is certainly not traditional to tell this particular tale with more pictures than words.  These characters bring with them such extreme intentions and yearnings, however, that in a very strange way it feels more natural to depict their causes in this highly expressive manner.

James: It was a challenge to turn Chekhov into a physical piece, but an extremely fun and enjoyable challenge. What I find so fun and interesting about physical theatre is that you can bring all of Chekhov’s subtext and understatement to the surface in an expressive and stylized manner, in ways perhaps that you never thought possible before. Let’s say that instead of just playing a scene for “real,” where we see characters in their happiest emotional state, we turn the emotional state into a gestural composition or a dance. Or perhaps maybe instead of a character “realistically” giving a monologue, he “floats” a gestural composition on top of the monologue that express the character’s emotional arc. Trying to bring out what’s really happening on the inside of the characters in an expressive, physical manner.

The most challenging part of the process was the dramaturgy: keeping track of the story line and emotional arc. The piece was developed around a series of improvisations, so we didn’t always have a logical reason for where we placed each scene or why we chose the moments we did. We had make choices and refine what we felt each moment meant and how it fed into and related to the next scene.

Marissa: What has been the most wonderful discovery and most frustrating challenge in creating “The Seagull Project”?

Megan: The most wonderful discovery was seeing what our actors brought with them into the room.  They were all so beautifully committed and willing to share themselves with us. The piece reflects many discoveries that could only have happened with these specific people. The most frustrating challenge was finding rehearsal space

James: I agree with Megan: the most wonderful discovery of “The Seagull Project” was seeing what our actors brought to the table. The piece became so personal for them, that we found exciting answers and discoveries at each rehearsal. Sometimes, we as directors had moments where we felt confused, and the actors would give us a suggestion or an idea and we’d think “duh! Why didn’t we see that before?” It’s amazing how much your colleagues can teach you, and this to me is one of my favorite parts of the rehearsal process. And yes, the most difficult part of the rehearsal process was finding a rehearsal space.

Marissa: How is “The Seagull Project” similar to or different from previous 11^th Hour projects?

Megan: “The Seagull Project” definitely feels different from 11th Hour’s previous projects.  Like any young theatre company, we are still learning what works best for us; where are strengths are best showcased.  This particular project stemmed from the passion we share for the story we are telling.  That has been the most important part of developing this piece.  The entire ensemble studied at SFSU and almost all of us studied The Seagull with Barbara Damashek there.  That shared history gives “The Seagull Project” a type of momentum we haven’t had before.  I believe this the first of many lives this piece will have.

James: This is the first time we developed a devised piece based on an existing, and extremely well-known, piece of dramatic literature. All of our other pieces were either based on another devised piece, or a story/idea. I feel this has been one of the most heavy subjects we have tackled. It has challenged us in so many ways, and I think it will give us a better idea of our range as theatre artists, and help push us in new directions.

Marissa: “The Seagull Project” explores the frustrations of being a young artist, struggling to create great work. What are some of your own personal strategies for dealing with creative blockages or feelings of inadequacy? Are there any quotes/mantras/works of art that you find particularly inspirational?

Megan: I have serious moments of crippling insecurity in just about every process I go through and I find it futile to attempt to prevent it or ward it off.  What I do find useful, is to remind myself that the inadequate sensation I am experiencing, while terrifying and painful, is probably a sign that I really care about what I’m doing.  It also helps to express myself creatively outside of rehearsal in a way that has nothing to do with the play I’m currently struggling with.  Helps to keep the creativity flowing despite certain blockages.I read Patti Smith’s Just Kids last year, and this passage has helped me pull myself up by my own bootstraps on several occasions:

I was both scattered and stymied, surrounded by unfinished songs and abandoned poems.  I would go as far as I could and hit a wall, my own imagined limitations.  And then I met a fellow who gave me his secret, and it was pretty simple.  When you hit a wall, just kick it in.

James: I generally never really feel satisfied with my work. I always feel there is something I missed or didn’t realize until it was over. I just remind myself that it’s important to keep on working and growing because you are always bound to discover new and exciting things. Sometimes you just have to wait a little longer. I once received a Martha Graham quote from our acting class with Barbara Damashek that has always been very inspiring for me. I actually received it when we studied “The Seagull”:

You do not even have to believe in yourself or your work. You have to keep yourself open and aware to the urges that motivate you. Keep the channel open. … No artist is pleased. [There is] no satisfaction whatever at any time. There is only a queer divine dissatisfaction, a blessed unrest that keeps us marching and makes us more alive than the others.

Marissa: What do you hope the audience will get out of “The Seagull Project”?

Megan: I hope the audience will be surprised.  I hope they will not only relate to our main character’s struggle, but be reminded of their own triumphs or failures in overcoming adversity.  And what either outcome taught them.  I hope some of them go home and read the original play!  That would be great.  Mostly, I hope it gets them excited to create some art of their own.

James: I hope the audience will question what they see. I hope they get some sort of emotional response to the images they see. Like Megan, I hope they will be able to relate to our central character Konstantin and his struggle to finding his voice. I hope the audience will laugh and hopefully, provoke some thought. I, too, hope the audience will read Chekhov’s original play! It’s still so relevant and full of humanity.

Marissa: 11^th Hour Ensemble has produced short pieces for BOA, as well as evening-length pieces of devised work. How does your process differ when creating a short piece as opposed to a longer one?

Megan: The processes themselves, ideally, don’t actually differ that much.  Like I mentioned earlier, we believe in ritual and repetition, whether the piece runs an hour or fifteen minutes long.  Each is built on a foundation formed and fortified by the trust and willingness of everyone in the room and created with a physical vocabulary developed through specific exercises.  The length of the piece doesn’t affect this process at all.

James: I would say the only difference may be the amount of time we spend on each project, although the process itself is not different. The so few moments in life when you can create a sacred and safe environment for everyone to work in. I think this goes along with what Megan was saying about ritual and repetition. Creating theatre for us, is a time to discipline and challenge ourselves, and to learn and grow. Our first major show, Alice, was developed over a period of 2 years, before it became a full-length feature. We have only been working on The Seagull since January.

Marissa: What’s up next for you and for 11th Hour Ensemble?

Megan: 11th Hour Ensemble has a few projects in our back pocket.  No definite dates yet, but please visit our website and we will keep you posted!

James: I think we all have a few ideas and projects we’d like to explore. Hopefully something very soon after BOA!

Marissa: Megan and James, thanks for taking the time to talk with me about your work. It’s interesting to discuss your artistic process like this — and then see how those same themes are reflected onstage, through physical theater, in ‘The Seagull Project.”

“The Seagull Project” appears in Program 1 of BOA 2012.

Our series of playwright interviews continues as dramaturg Marissa Skudlarek interviews Megan Cohen about “Three Little Dumplings Go Bananas,” television, and more.

This is Megan Cohen’s third year consecutive year as a BOA playwright. Her play “The Great Double Check” appeared in BOA 2010, and “A Three Little Dumplings Adventure” was an audience favorite in BOA 2011. She’s back this year with a sequel featuring everybody’s favorite rambunctious, irrepressible sacks of deep-fried dough.

Marissa: So how did the idea for a sequel to “A Three Little Dumplings Adventure” come about?

Megan: I have no idea how the discussion got started; if anything, I was the last to know!  On the closing day of the 2011 festival, the Dumplings had their final Adventure, and the feeling was just like, “Oh, we don’t want to stop doing this, we want to keep doing this.”  Jessica Holt (the director) grabbed me in the doorway of Boxcar Theater after that last matinee, I was heading out, and said, “The whole cast wants to do another one, everyone’s already on board — can you write us a Return to Dumplings?”  Of course since Jessica is the Artistic Director of the festival, she can ask for anything she wants, and it was totally thrilling to be commissioned, and to know that she wanted my work!

“Bananas” takes place in the same universe, but from that first conversation we knew it would be a new free-standing and complete play, not just a Part Two for “Adventure.”  Anyone who wants to read the plays together can download the eBook from my website at megancohen.com

Marissa: Did you know right away what you wanted to have happen to the Dumplings in the sequel, or did it take some trial and error?

Megan: We had a couple evolutions as to what the story would be, but those were mostly about shifts in human resources! My first idea, which we had a few meetings about last summer, was to have Mommy circumnavigate the globe by herself, and the other actors would be like this mad corps de ballet playing all the different people and trees and stoplights she met on her journey.  Then, in the final scene, she’d arrive back on the doorstep of the home that she’d left, having gone all the way around the world in a full 360-degree journey, and after this incredible odyssey of change and discovery, she’d decide whether to step through the doorway of the house, and go back home.  The play would rock kind of like an Amelia-Earhart-Meets-Dante’s-Divine-Comedy-and-The-Wizard-of-Oz sort of vibe.

Then the BOA dates got set, and the actor we wanted for Mommy wasn’t available.  So, it was like “Okay, what do we do with this returning character?  Re-cast with another actor?  Turn her into a werewolf?  Put her in a coma?”  It was a very television-style problem — which is perfect for the Dumpling universe.  It also sent me back to the drawing board; without her presence to work with, I decided to use her absence as an organizing principle.

Also, at the last minute, we turned out to get this fabulous Assistant Director, Maggie Mason, hanging around, and Jessica was like, “Well, let’s give her something to do,” so I added the “posh announcer” voice-over role for her, and it turned out she could comment on the action and make some pretty good jokes.  Maggie played Iago for me when I directed Othello in college, and she’s kind of a star around town, so it was like “We can’t just have this pile of gold in the room and not spend it.”

Marissa: What was the rehearsal period for “Bananas” like? Did the script change at all during the rehearsal process?

Megan: Can you imagine cutting a play by 25% in the week before you start rehearsal?  ‘Cause that’s what I did!  We read a draft aloud for the BOA community at the all-festival reading, then I took a hatchet to it.  It was already probably my 4th full draft of the piece; we’d had table readings and discussions already.

I love being in the rehearsal room, but only when there’s something for me to do; I left as soon as we were sure the cuts felt right.  They called me in for a visit later in the process, and I showed up — the script didn’t change, but I ended up whipping out a needle and thread to mend a pair of costume pants that had ripped down the butt.  With a new play, you can’t always predict what’ll need fixing.

Marissa: Your nascent media empire is called Better Than Television, and you tweet as @WayBetterThanTV.  Television is also a leitmotif in the “Dumplings” plays – Daddy is always watching TV, the characters talk about the life lessons inherent in such classic sitcoms as Full House, and “Bananas” features a magical TV Guide. Clearly, you have a very complicated relationship with the boob tube. How has television influenced your writing and your worldview – for better or for worse?

Megan: Television is the dominant mode of fantasy in our lives, the externalized imagination that glows in our homes.   We all live in the constant presence of a machine that feeds us dreams; I don’t know how any writer can not be obsessed with it! Statistically, the average American has their TV playing for between 4 and 5 hours a day.  That’s a lot.   TV may be shrinking in importance, though, as more interactive narrative mediums emerge — I write game stories by day, and that industry is exploding — so, as a culture we are on the cusp of something “better than television.”  We are starving for that evolution, for a new leap forward in how we experience our daily stories.

If TV is on the way out, then I am really part of the Television Generation: the generation that’s watched more TV for more hours every day, for more of our lives, than any other group of people ever have, or ever will have, watched.  That’s our place in human history, and if I didn’t grapple with it in my work somehow, I’d feel dishonest.

Marissa: What do you hope the audience will get out of “Three Little Dumplings Go Bananas”?

Megan: I hope they’ll be nice to each other afterwards.  Especially on the way out of the theater — no shoving, that’s so rude!

Marissa: What about “Three Little Dumplings Go Bananas,” in your opinion, makes it feel like a “Megan Cohen play?”

Megan: It’s breathless, shameless, and packed with ideas that can’t afford to wait their turn; I write, basically, like I’m screaming one last message out before being hit by a truck.

Marissa: You’re a prolific writer of short plays, but you’ve also written longer pieces. What do you like about the short-play, one-act form?

Megan: It gets me produced.  Short plays take less money to do, and audiences who come see a festival like this can say “It’s all new work, and at least the bad ones will be over quickly,” so it’s less of a risk for them. It’s like casual dating before the world is ready to commit to a relationship with you as a writer.  After you’re professionally established, a short play seems to be a kind of fling, a quick roll in the hay with some cute little idea while your spouse is out of town.  Again, the appeal is that it is not too important.

There’s sometimes a desire to deify or celebrate the form, to say “this is great for writers, because we can have riskier ideas in the short format,” but all of a good writer’s ideas are risky.  I think no playwright in the world will say, if given one chance for a production, “I would rather do a short play than a long one — I would rather an audience spent less time with me.”

Marissa: You’re the most frequently produced female playwright in the Bay Area – what’s up next for you, theatrically speaking?

Megan: By the time this answer gets published, it’ll already be out of date, so follow me on Twitter @WayBetterThanTV or follow my blog at megancohen.com.

Next up, I’m shopping some work around, after a period of writing and hibernation.  Since August, I’ve drafted two new full length plays, a gritty neo-noir cop drama called Joe Ryan, and a bat-out-of-hell, deeply political surrealist comedy called Eat The Rich.  I haven’t really looked for a home for either of them yet — Joe Ryan had a reading at the SF Olympians festival, and was a semi-finalist for the Playwrights Foundation festival this year, but I haven’t really hit the pavement with it.  Eat the Rich is newer, weirder; I’m not sure where it belongs.

I’ve also this year written my first TV spec script, had my first commercial game released (for the iPad), and I’m wrapping up my first screenplay right now.  I’m working on a collaboration with director Amy Clare Tasker, it’s probably going to end up being some kind of transmedia project, with a mixture of live and online components.  Basically, there’s no way to make a living in theater, so I’m trying every storytelling medium on the planet to see if I can make a living as a writer in some way or another.

As soon as I have time, I know the next full length play I want to write.  It’s about a group of young people living on the edge of the ghetto, who stage a fake crime spree in order to halt gentrification and keep their rent low.  There’s a very 1980s John Hughes love story in amongst all the hijinks, too.  Anyway, that’s my unwritten play, it’s called Bad Neighborhood, and if anyone wants to give me five grand, I’ll drop everything else in my life and send them a finished script in two months.

Marissa: That sounds amazing — I hope someone takes you up on it! Thanks for taking the time out of your busy schedule to talk with me about “Dumplings” and your other projects!

In the meantime, people have 2 more weeks to catch Program 1 of BOA and see the Three Little Dumplings in their latest breathless, shameless, and totally bananas adventure. This Thursday’s performance (May 3) will feature a talk-back with Megan Cohen, director Jessica Holt, and members of the cast!

Our series of interviews with BOA playwrights continues as festival dramaturg Marissa Skudlarek talks to Ken Slattery about his play “Death to the Audience” and related matters.

Ken Slattery is a longtime member of PlayGround and of sketch comedy group Killing My Lobster, but this is his first time at BOA. “Death to the Audience,” despite its threatening title, is a comedy that imagines the god Mars setting out to wage war on his most vicious foe… the audience.

Marissa: Can you talk a little about the genesis of “Death to the Audience”? I know that it originated as a piece for PlayGround (which gives its writers a prompt each month and then asks them to write a short play). What was the prompt that inspired this piece?

Ken: The topic was “Son of Juno.”  I wrote it in March 2004, so I can’t remember exactly how I came to have the idea, but I’m sure I researched who Juno was, discovered Mars was her son, read that Mars was the God of War, and somehow progressed to writing a play where Roman characters onstage decide to declare war on the audience. PlayGround topics often work like that; they usually require a little research that inevitably opens up all sorts of ideas you wouldn’t have thought of having.

Marissa: So that’s what inspired you to use the Roman gods – Mars, Minerva, and Juno – as characters?

Ken: Yes, the topic definitely steered me in that direction. Most writers would not have taken the literal approach to the characters that I did; if I remember rightly, I was the only playwright who had these Gods in my play on the night of the reading. Writing about Gods suits me; they’re larger-than-life characters, a little childish too, definitely not adults, and that seems to suit me generally when it comes to writing comic characters and situations.

Marissa: As a longtime member of PlayGround, you’ve written dozens of short plays. What do you like about the short-play form?

Ken: The short form is deceptively easy; but it is very hard. I think what I like the most is I can sit down and actually complete a first draft of a short play in one night, if I work at it; and that gives me a sense I’ve actually achieved something. It’s good to sprint to the finish line rather than jog there sometimes.  I think audiences might appreciate short form plays for the same reason. I also think audiences like nights where there is a mix of short plays; there’s nearly always something for everyone.

Marissa: What do you hope the audience will get out of “Death to the Audience”? (Besides, um, death, of course.)

Ken: I hope they laugh in all the right places, and pause for a moment to consider the plight of the characters onstage too. We sit in the dark and watch characters/actors struggle, week in week out; I hope we can get a glimpse into their point of view for a change–what do they think of us, the audience? There’s a spear-carrier in particular with whom I hope people can sympathize.  Overall, I think it’s a pretty light play that shouldn’t tax anyone too much, and there’s probably a bunch of inside-theatre jokes that regular theatre-goers or anyone with knowledge of theatre will enjoy. I’m not sure anyone dies in the play; though I missed the last rehearsal so who knows what Graham and the actors have planned…

Marissa: Do you have any audience-member horror stories that you’re willing to share?

Ken: I wrote and produced a play in Dublin a long time ago, and we staged it in such a way that the audience entered behind the stage. One night, just as we started Act 2, and the lead actor was in the midst of an emotional monologue, one of the audience members–a  friend of his–came in late from the intermission and said hello to him onstage in a less than formal way, totally disrupting him. It was pretty traumatic at the time but years later, it makes me laugh. I always think it’s cool when audience members comment on the action or start talking to the characters onstage, even though that might be horrifying sometimes; it’s a sign they’re engaged, and that’s good.

Marissa: What about “Death to the Audience,” in your opinion, makes it feel like a “Ken Slattery play”?

Ken: It’s hopefully funny, and it’s hopefully a little dark. I think I write about childish people a lot of the time, even if the characters are supposed to be adults, or in this case, Gods. I think where I’m coming from with that is sometimes it seems most of us never grow up, or we get stuck somewhere in adolescence. That’s a sweeping generality of course but um, prove me wrong, everybody on Facebook . I think I also like to write about people who  are unhappy with their lot in life, and are struggling to change it, banish some demons, and gain some control over their destiny. In this play, the God of War fits that type of character, which tends to be the main character in most of my stuff, and is clearly an issue that I seem to have most of the time for some reason.

Marissa: How has the rehearsal process for “Death to the Audience” been? Has the script changed at all during the process?

Ken: Yes, the dialogue has changed quite a bit. I wrote the play back in 2004, when I was still more accustomed to writing for Irish audiences; as such, a lot of my expressions were very Irish-sounding or English-sounding; I changed them all to ones a US audience would find more comprehensible. Also in rehearsal, we trimmed a few lines or cut them and replaced them with action.

Marissa: You and your BOA director, M. Graham Smith, will be collaborating again this summer. Can you tell us a little about what you’re working on?

Ken: We’ll be doing Truffaldino Says No with Shotgun Players. It’s another play of mine that I initially wrote as a result of a PlayGround prompt (Arlecchino). PlayGround commissioned me to develop it into a full-length play back in 2009; Graham took it to Shotgun in 2010, and they agreed to do it this year. It’s about a stock commedia dell’arte character who wants to leave his life in the old world (Venice) behind, and moves to the new world (Venice Beach).  The play’s about what happens to him when he gets to the new world–which resembles the world of a sitcom–and also the effect his departure has on the old world, i.e. the people he’s left behind. He’s also in love with two women, which informs a lot of his decision-making . It runs at the Ashby Stage in July.

Marissa: Ken, thanks for taking the time to discuss “Death to the Audience” with me! Your play, with its jokes about actors and audience members, is the perfect curtain-raiser for Program 2 of the Bay One Acts.

And if you have a question you’d like to ask about “Death to the Audience,” come see BOA Program 2 on Thursday night (April 26) and stay for the Spotlight Series talk-back with Ken, Graham, and the cast!

Marissa Skudlarek continues her series of interviews with BOA playwrights by discussing “A Game” with playwright Christopher Chen.

2012 is Christopher Chen’s first year participating in BOA. He is a San Francisco native whose work has been seen locally at the Bay Area Playwrights Festival, as well as nationally and internationally. “A Game” is the story of a couple who start to play an ostensibly therapeutic game that leaves them questioning the nature of their relationship and more.

Marissa: The game played in “A Game” involves revealing your deepest fears and then pretending that they have come true. So, I think we’re all curious to know – has anyone ever tried to make you play a game like this, and if so, what was your reaction?  If not, where did the idea for this game come from?

Christopher: I am forced to confront my deepest fears every day in this game we call LIFE! Dun dun duuun. But no, I’ve never done anything quite like this, thankfully. I’d been kicking this idea around for a while, and it was kind of a mash-up of two different wants. I wanted to do an intimate, two-person drama with no fancy frills, just two actors and a director really digging into a text; and I also wanted to have some sort of shifting of reality that was totally self-generated and perpetuated by the characters. A weird therapy game proved a natural set-up. But then, after I already mapped the play out, I realized I might have been subconsciously influenced by two works I read many years ago: “The Hitchhiking Game” by Milan Kundera, and Harold Pinter’s “The Lover.” Sigh. There are no original ideas anymore. But honestly, mine is very different from these two and is concerned with different things. No, seriously.

Marissa: What made you decide to center this play on a lesbian relationship, rather than a heterosexual or gay couple?

Christopher: This was actually my director Paul Cello’s suggestion, and I really loved it. Initially I had them as a heterosexual couple, but then Paul suggested two females for several reasons. First, we need more juicy female roles onstage. Second, having two females would make the shifting power dynamics more interesting. Thirdly, it would just be great to have a play which contains a lesbian couple in which their sexual orientation wasn’t the subject. It is the story of a couple and this couple just happens to be a lesbian couple. And I am so glad he urged me in this direction. What I love about the play now is that by making them a same-sex couple, we ultimately get to zero in more, without the specter of male sexual power dynamics hovering in the background. It is a more neutral space in a way, where we can really focus in more on key subjects like trust and delusion (among others).

Marissa: What has it been like working with director Paul Cello? Has the script changed at all during the rehearsal period?

Christopher: It’s been amazing working with Paul Cello. As you can see from my previous answer, he was integral to the play’s conception. This was truly a collaborative process in every sense of the phrase. The great thing about working with Paul is that you get a dramaturg as well as a director. He suggested many little cuts and tweaks, but also talked candidly with me about the play’s ending, which had always vexed me. We went through about three cycles of my changing the ending and Paul challenging me with tough questions, before it finally grew into something that worked. (Ultimately, the script has changed considerably over the rehearsal period, so the play in the anthology for sale is not the one you will see onstage.)  As a director, Paul has a really keen sense of how to get at the nuances of characters and text, and he really knows how to unfold a play in terms of pacing and rhythm. The last play he directed for BOA, “The Pond,” was one of the most suspenseful and masterfully slow-burning works I had seen in a long time, so when I started working with him I pretty much went: “Do that with my play!” He’s really an ideal partner for a playwright working on a new play. I hope to work with him again in this exact way down the line, hopefully on a full-length.

Marissa: What do you hope the audience will get out of “A Game”?

Christopher: I hope they will be shaken, engaged, and leave questioning the nature of reality.

Marissa: What about “A Game,” in your opinion, makes it feel like a “Christopher Chen play?”

Christopher: What I aim to do in my plays is to take the audience down a rabbit hole, and to make this a meticulously choreographed journey. I like to first create a solid structure, then slowly pull this structure out from under the audience’s feet, so that they ultimately land in a place of real dislocation and ambiguity. For me, this mimics the process of confronting a work of art, then allowing the work to shift and change until it ultimately expands your mind and upends your emotional state. I aim to have my plays guide the audience through this “expanding” and “upending” process, and I hope that’s what happens in this play, albeit in a shorter time frame.

Marissa: I know you best as a writer of full-length plays, and this is your first time in BOA. What do you like about the short-play, one-act form?

Christopher: I really like how this short form allows me to really focus and singe things down to their essences. If I want to explore this precise mechanism of how these two characters handle this game, then that’s what I’m going to do, goddammit! Nothing else! Because of a different set of expectations that comes with a one-act, I don’t have to worry as much about more exhaustive things like comprehensive backstories or personal histories, things which would muddy up the basic thrust of the play.

Marissa: What’s up next for you, theatrically speaking?

Christopher: My (recently retitled) play Aulis: An Act of Nihilism in One Long Act will be at Cutting Ball’s Risk Is This festival June 8-9. (Fellow BOA writer Anthony Clarvoe’s piece Gizmo is also in this festival.) Also, my play The Hundred Flowers Project will be at the Bay Area Playwrights Festival this summer, then get its world premiere with Crowded Fire and Playwrights Foundation in late October at the Thick House.

Marissa: Toward the end of “A Game,” (or at least the version of the script that is in the anthology!) the characters agree to reveal their greatest hopes. So let me ask you: what is your greatest hope for BOA 2012?

Christopher: My greatest hope is to have as many people come to see both programs as possible!

Marissa: We hope the same thing, Christopher, and we’re glad to have you as a part of BOA!

“A Game” will be performed in Program 2 of BOA 2012.

Marissa Skudlarek, BOA dramaturg, interviews Sam Leichter about his play “In Bed” and his identity as a playwright, an actor, and a Philadelphian.

2012 marks Sam Leichter’s third consecutive year as a BOA playwright. In 2010, BOA produced his first short play, “The Philadelphian,” and in 2011, they produced “The Pond.” Sam also appeared as an actor in BOA 2009.

Marissa: “In Bed” is the final play of “The Donna DeSantos Trilogy,” three one-act plays about working-class Philadelphians, all of which have premiered at BOA. What draws you to write about this milieu?

Sam: In my writing, I’m always looking for potential explosions. While none of my plays have ever contained actual violence, the potential for violence is always critical. The men in my plays really scare the shit out of me. They are men that I’ve met in Philadelphia, who have a certain harshness, a hypermasculinity that is a perfect powder keg for the kind of intense stories I’m interested in telling. The city of Philadelphia is amazing, enormous, and I’m proud to call it my home. It’s also a city that, in many ways, can never seem to get out from behind the eight ball. The characters in my plays are often the same.

Marissa: Jenny, the main female character of “In Bed,” was mentioned in the first play of the trilogy (“The Philadelphian”) but never appeared onstage. What inspired you to write a play about what happens to Jenny after the events of “The Philadelphian,” and to take her story in this direction?

Sam: So few short plays or one-acts today actually have a story. They’re often “idea” plays. That sounds disparaging, and it’s not meant to be. However, I have little interest in writing a sketch, or in showing anyone how clever I can be. I like plays steeped in history and complications, regardless of how long they are. Allowing the audience and characters to realize connections within a single play, or seeing characters, events and themes show up in multiple plays, really creates an entire world where these stories unfold. After “The Philadelphian,” there was some clamoring for me to give the female characters who are referenced in the play but never seen — Jenny and Donna — some stage time. The idea appealed to me greatly. Originally, I planned on having Donna in the final play, and in the very, very beginnings of first drafts of the play, Donna was the female character. With Jenny it made a lot more sense, and the play really came to life.

Marissa: What do you hope the audience will get out of “In Bed”?

Sam: “In Bed” first started kicking around in my brain while I was on a Law & Order: SVU binge. The way that Max is treated in the play — and, we’re led to believe, in his life generally — was something that I really wanted to explore. Beyond that, I hope that there are themes and questions that the play will bring up for BOA audiences and resonate after the play is over: How can I really trust someone? How quickly do I form romantic attachments? When is it safe to let someone in?

Marissa: What about “In Bed,” in your opinion, makes it feel like a “Sam Leichter play”?

Sam: My plays tend to be a bit dark. (Perhaps more than a bit.) “In Bed” is the darkest. Gulp! Hope you enjoy the show!

Marissa: You’re currently in graduate school at Rutgers for an MFA in acting. How do you think that being an actor has influenced you as a playwright?

Sam: I’m an actor who writes. When I direct, I’m an actor who directs. And when I teach, I’m an actor who teaches. Everything I put down on paper comes from my experience as an actor. The way it has influenced me the most, I would say, is that I always, always, always strive to write characters that actors will want to play. I never want an actor to feel like they are being taken for granted, or that they don’t have something juicy to sink their teeth into. I may not always succeed in this, but I always try.

Marissa: Your fans in the Bay Area hope that, even though you’re getting a master’s in acting, you’ll continue to write plays. Have you written anything this year? Do your new friends and professors in New Jersey know that you’re a playwright?

Sam: It looks like there might be some opportunities to write and have some work put up — most likely in a very, very informal setting — this summer and maybe next year. And with classes coming to an end in a few weeks, I’ll have more time to devote to writing in general.

Marissa: As far as I know, all the plays you’ve written have been one-acts. What do you like most about the short-play form? Any plans to write a full-length?

Sam: Short plays are so wonderful! Being able to pack a big punch into a 20-50 minute piece can be really powerful. I would love to write a full-length, and I will. Someday.

Marissa: What’s up next for you, theatrically speaking?

Sam: I just closed my first show here a Rutgers, a beautiful new play by Josh Levine, one of our MFA playwrights. Right now, I’m just gearing up for the end of the semester and looking forward to summer!

Marissa: Sam, thanks for taking the time to do this email interview with me! I’m glad you’re having a good time in New Jersey — but also glad that Bay Area audiences can see a new play of yours this month!

“In Bed” appears in Program 1 of BOA 2012, directed by Rob Ready for Pianofight Productions.

Marissa Skudlarek, BOA Festival Dramaturg, interviews Erin Bregman about her play “I.S.O. Explosive Possibility” and related matters.

2012 is playwright Erin Bregman’s first year participating in BOA, but she’s a familiar presence on the Bay Area theater scene: her work has been seen at PlayGround, the Bay Area Playwrights Festival, and Just Theater. “I.S.O. Explosive Possibility” is a poetic and playful investigation of the cutting edge of scientific research.

Marissa: “I.S.O. Explosive Possibility” is a highly theatrical exploration of stem-cell research. Have you written other plays about science? What drew you to science as a topic for drama?

Erin: I haven’t written other plays about science, but I would love to. This play actually came out of a Magic Theatre/Sloan Foundation commission (they wanted to commission my college playwriting teacher, who didn’t have time, and asked if they wanted to commission shorts from her students instead), so that’s why it’s about stem cells. But I grew up with arts and science mashed up together at home — my dad is an astronomer, and my mom’s a painter — and always wanted to combine the two myself. And I hope I have another chance soon!

Marissa: Your dialogue in this play is very stylized and poetic – people who buy a copy of the BOA Anthology will see that your play is actually written in free verse. Do you have a background in poetry? Have other playwrights influenced the lyricism of your voice as a writer?

Erin: I don’t have a background in poetry, but when I was at UC Santa Barbara I read a lot of contemporary American plays, and started seeing the broken line convention form from a lot of writers. I remember in particular reading a Melissa James Gibson play, and having a moment of “aha! genius!” when I understood what she was doing rhythmically with her line breaks. After that, it seemed the only natural way to write.

Marissa: What’s the rehearsal process/working with director Claire Rice been like? Has the script changed at all during the rehearsal period?

Erin: Claire’s awesome. I re-wrote a lot before we went into rehearsal, but there were only really minor changes after we started rehearsing. I had cut a line where one of the actors says the word “obtuse,” and it turns out they were really into that word, so I put it back for her.

Marissa: What do you hope the audience will get out of “I.S.O. Explosive Possibility”?

Erin: If nothing else, the idea that science and art-making are much more closely related than they’d thought. And that stem cells are cool. And that you don’t have to be some special genius to be able to think scientifically, and get excited about big science-y ideas.

Marissa: What about “I.S.O. Explosive Possibility,” in your opinion, makes it feel like an “Erin Bregman play?”

Erin: Someone at a reading last night commented that a play I’m working on was “weirdly mesmerizing.”  I like that as a descriptor of my work, and hope it might fit for this one too.

Marissa: You’re a longtime member of PlayGround, so you’ve written many, many one-act plays. What do you like about the short-play form?

Erin: I like that they don’t need a lot of ideas, and can be just one simple exploration of one idea, and really hold together. It’s also just nice to not have to spend a year writing something before it’s finished.

Marissa: What’s up next for you, theatrically speaking?

Erin: I’m not sure. There aren’t any set plans for what’s next yet.

Marissa: The “explosive possibility” in the title of your play refers to the fact that stem cells have the potential to transform into every other kind of cell. Let’s say that you had a day that was full of “explosive possibility” — that is, a free day when you could do anything in the world you wanted to do. How would you spend it?

Erin: Ooooh. Sleeping in. Then going on an adventure that starts with a bike ride and ends in a tent. Good food. And chocolate would be involved in some way, shape, or form.

Marissa: Erin, thank you for taking the time to discuss “I.S.O. Explosive Possibility” with me. I’m looking forward to seeing your “weirdly mesmerizing” work in Program 2 of BOA 2012.