Here’s an example of a great story that, in no way, will help us put up the play…but it’s just too damn good to not share. This is the story of “Ballad’s” Broadway premiere.
On the first day of rehearsal, Albee addressed the actors: “You’re good actors. Alan’s a good director. Ben’s built a nice set. So if the play’s lousy, it’s my fault. And that’s why the first day of rehearsal is depressing to me.” As the story goes, this was just a bit of an oversimplification.
Alan Schneider was pegged to direct the play since he had quite a history with Albee, having just directed his biggest hit, “Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf.” It should be pointed out that, not coincidentally, Schneider was Beckett’s favorite American director as well. Once casting began, Albee insisted on Colleen Dewhurst for Amelia and, while being perfect for the role, she clashed with Schneider from the beginning. Now, this wasn’t unheard of, as Schneider had the same relationship with Uta Hagen during ‘Virginia Woolf’, but as they approached previews for “Ballad,” Dewhurst said the director, “was beginning to show signs of cowardice. He was frightened by the material.” To make matters worse, she decided to have her husband, George C. Scott—yes, that George C. Scott—re-choreograph the climatic fight scene. After running through the new version, Schneider, who knew nothing of Scott’s involvement, objected to what he saw. A huge blowout ensued with Dewhurst storming out and refusing to take any more notes from her director. Eesh.
To make matters worse, the play went into rehearsal in the form of three long acts. Albee promised to cut and cut he did, but for every scene that was scratched, the narrator got a long monologue to replace it. Roscoe Lee Browne, who played the narrator, said, “I would have a new speech incorporating most of a scene they just deleted. They didn’t realize I was complaining when I said, ‘Gentlemen, there’s something wrong with this fellow who comes to tell you what you’ve just seen, what you’re now looking at and what you’re going to see.’” Dewhurst became increasingly frustrated over having to fight the narrator for her territory on stage. Browne, her friend, said, “In her rage, she would say to Schneider, ‘you have this wonderful actor stuck out there.’ By the time we were in previews, Colleen was in deep trouble with the piece. She knew of course she needed another eye to see what she was doing. It couldn’t be anybody onstage, and she would not allow the director to do it.”
Enter George C. Scott. At his wife’s request, he sat quietly in the back of the theatre, diligently taking notes. Scott, Dewhurst, and Browne all got together afterwards and went through the play line by line. Scott recommended cut after cut of the narrator’s speeches and gave them both his notes. By the time they were finished, the narrator’s role had been sliced from over twenty speeches to eight. Now came the tricky part: convincing Schneider.
Browne went to his director with Scott’s ideas disguised as his own. Much to his shock, Schneider admitted that the cuts made sense, but they’d have to be approved by Albee. That evening, Albee came backstage at Browne’s request and the two of them sat down the script. Albee’s replied, “You’re still saying those dreadful words? Take them out!” When asked if he ever told Albee about Scott’s influence, Browne replied, “Never! Never, never, never. It would have been most indiscreet to mention it.” Did Schneider ever know? No, Brown replied, he “would have wondered, who else was directing the play?”
Not exactly the portrait of professionalism you’d imagine backstage on Broadway. Happy to report that the most drama we’ve had thus far are an onslaught of Crazy Merlie jokes followed by uncontrollable laughter.
Pretty good story, huh?
Your humble dramaturg,
Snook.
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
What We Drinking?
“The whiskey they drank that evening is important. Otherwise, it would be hard to account for what followed. Perhaps without it there would never have been a cafe. For the liquor of Miss Amelia has a special quality of its own. It is clean and sharp on the tongue, but once down a man, it glows inside him for a long time afterward. And that is not all. Things that have gone unnoticed, thoughts that have been harbored far back in the dark mind, are suddenly recognized and comprehended. A man may suffer, or he may be spent with joy--but he has warmed his soul and seen the message hidden there.”
--The Narrator, ‘The Ballad of the Sad Cafe’
Now that’s some good liquor. Where can you get some of that, you may ask. Well, it’s my job to tell you. Fair warning, though. As it happens, some Georgia Moon corn whiskey (today’s equivalent) has been floating around our space for about a year now. When a bottle of liquor lasts that long around Signal, it says something.
It turns out it was the northern Irish (God bless ‘em) who brought the process of moonshine to the American colonies during the 18th century. It’s a relatively simple process in two steps: fermentation and distillation. The fermentation is the process of breaking down the starches of the corn grain into sugars. To speed this up, sugar, yeast and malt can be added to the mix, making up the mash. Once you had the mash, the distillation of the alcohol was achieved by heating it, which would separate the alcohol from the water. That vapor would then be chilled and, voila, moonshine. This was all done in a homemade still and then kept, usually, in mason jars (though Miss Amelia of “Ballad” was fancy and kept hers in barrels).
Before the Civil War, moonshining wasn’t even moonshining yet; it was a respectable practice by farmers who were just making a little extra on the side with their excess crops. Crafty. It wasn’t until the federal government tried to tax what they referred to as “luxuries” in the 1860’s that the term “moonshiner” came into play. Those that didn’t want to pay the tax on the liquor they were making were forced to carry on under the light of the moon. Not paying taxes was one thing, but when prohibition came along, moonshining made the transition from tax evasion to out and out against the law.
Now, we come to the 1930’s; around the time of our “Ballad.” Despite prohibition, moonshining was a good option for farmers and, given the economic climate, it was often the only option. At that time, unskilled laborers were making around 40 cents an hour, but one trip to Atlanta would bring in forty dollars. Hmmm, twenty dollars or four hundred dollars a week? Easy enough to figure that one out. Now, the danger wasn’t so much in making the moonshine, but in transporting it. It had to be at night and it had to be fast. So, bootleggers, or “trippers,” became adept at souping up their V-8 Fords into what was called “tanker cars”...and even more adept at driving them. This, folks, was not only the inspiration for “The Dukes of Hazzard,” but the beginning of Nascar as we know it. In fact, the first stars of Nascar all got their start running liquor in the moonshine business. So, when Cousin Lymon tells Miss Amelia he wants to “go in the Ford tomorrow,” he’s not talking about a country ride in the jalopy.
Thirsty? Yep, me too.
Your humble dramaturg,
Snook.
--The Narrator, ‘The Ballad of the Sad Cafe’
Now that’s some good liquor. Where can you get some of that, you may ask. Well, it’s my job to tell you. Fair warning, though. As it happens, some Georgia Moon corn whiskey (today’s equivalent) has been floating around our space for about a year now. When a bottle of liquor lasts that long around Signal, it says something.
It turns out it was the northern Irish (God bless ‘em) who brought the process of moonshine to the American colonies during the 18th century. It’s a relatively simple process in two steps: fermentation and distillation. The fermentation is the process of breaking down the starches of the corn grain into sugars. To speed this up, sugar, yeast and malt can be added to the mix, making up the mash. Once you had the mash, the distillation of the alcohol was achieved by heating it, which would separate the alcohol from the water. That vapor would then be chilled and, voila, moonshine. This was all done in a homemade still and then kept, usually, in mason jars (though Miss Amelia of “Ballad” was fancy and kept hers in barrels).
Before the Civil War, moonshining wasn’t even moonshining yet; it was a respectable practice by farmers who were just making a little extra on the side with their excess crops. Crafty. It wasn’t until the federal government tried to tax what they referred to as “luxuries” in the 1860’s that the term “moonshiner” came into play. Those that didn’t want to pay the tax on the liquor they were making were forced to carry on under the light of the moon. Not paying taxes was one thing, but when prohibition came along, moonshining made the transition from tax evasion to out and out against the law.
Now, we come to the 1930’s; around the time of our “Ballad.” Despite prohibition, moonshining was a good option for farmers and, given the economic climate, it was often the only option. At that time, unskilled laborers were making around 40 cents an hour, but one trip to Atlanta would bring in forty dollars. Hmmm, twenty dollars or four hundred dollars a week? Easy enough to figure that one out. Now, the danger wasn’t so much in making the moonshine, but in transporting it. It had to be at night and it had to be fast. So, bootleggers, or “trippers,” became adept at souping up their V-8 Fords into what was called “tanker cars”...and even more adept at driving them. This, folks, was not only the inspiration for “The Dukes of Hazzard,” but the beginning of Nascar as we know it. In fact, the first stars of Nascar all got their start running liquor in the moonshine business. So, when Cousin Lymon tells Miss Amelia he wants to “go in the Ford tomorrow,” he’s not talking about a country ride in the jalopy.
Thirsty? Yep, me too.
Your humble dramaturg,
Snook.
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
The Real Love Triangle
Okay, here’s a real good one. The more I find out about Carson McCullers (author of the novella), the more I am extremely curious about her…because, after all, I am a curious person. As it turns out, this little love triangle between the woman, the criminal and the hunchback is a bit of a mirror held up to the life of the author. In the spring of 1941, Carson was temporarily reconciled with her husband, Reeves McCullers, and they both fell in love with a composer, David Diamond. Carson had no problem with her husband having an affair with a man; in fact, she encouraged it as she, herself, was bisexual and felt it could be a special kind of bond. However, when the man Reeves was with was also her object of affection, things changed. To put it mildly, it all got a bit complicated and ended with their second separation.
Ten years later, she was in a New York City bar, hanging out with W.H. Auden…as you do. She noticed a couple and proceeded to observe them: "a woman who was tall and strong as a giantess, and at her heels she had a little hunchback." Weeks later, an "illumination," as she calls it, struck her:
"I was still working on ‘Member of the Wedding’ when with a sudden voltage I remembered the hunchback and the giantess. There was a strong impulse to write that story, suspending ‘Member of the Wedding,’ so I went back to Georgia to write ‘The Ballad of the Sad Café.’ It was a torrid summer and I remember the sweat pouring off my face as I typed, worried that I’d broken faith with ‘Member of the Wedding,’ to write this short novel. When I finished the story I jerked it out of the typewriter and handed it to my parents. I walked for several miles while they read, and when I’d come back I could see from their faces that they’d liked it. It was always my father’s favorite work."
I can’t help but wonder if her folks knew her personal inspiration for the story. At the completion of the novella, she told Diamond, "Darling, ‘The Ballad of the Sad Café’ is for you."
It’s safe to say that this connection wasn’t lost on Albee. After he had gotten the go ahead from McCullers to write the adaptation, he wrote to David Diamond about the idea, presumably feeling him out. Diamond wrote back to him saying that it was a fine idea and Albee was off.
Ah, the theatre.
Your humble dramaturg,
Snook.
Ten years later, she was in a New York City bar, hanging out with W.H. Auden…as you do. She noticed a couple and proceeded to observe them: "a woman who was tall and strong as a giantess, and at her heels she had a little hunchback." Weeks later, an "illumination," as she calls it, struck her:
"I was still working on ‘Member of the Wedding’ when with a sudden voltage I remembered the hunchback and the giantess. There was a strong impulse to write that story, suspending ‘Member of the Wedding,’ so I went back to Georgia to write ‘The Ballad of the Sad Café.’ It was a torrid summer and I remember the sweat pouring off my face as I typed, worried that I’d broken faith with ‘Member of the Wedding,’ to write this short novel. When I finished the story I jerked it out of the typewriter and handed it to my parents. I walked for several miles while they read, and when I’d come back I could see from their faces that they’d liked it. It was always my father’s favorite work."
I can’t help but wonder if her folks knew her personal inspiration for the story. At the completion of the novella, she told Diamond, "Darling, ‘The Ballad of the Sad Café’ is for you."
It’s safe to say that this connection wasn’t lost on Albee. After he had gotten the go ahead from McCullers to write the adaptation, he wrote to David Diamond about the idea, presumably feeling him out. Diamond wrote back to him saying that it was a fine idea and Albee was off.
Ah, the theatre.
Your humble dramaturg,
Snook.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
The Ballad of the What?
Despite and maybe because it was Edward Albee’s follow up to ‘Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?’, ‘The Ballad of the Sad Cafe’ usually elicits a blank stare from even theatre folk. In short, it was originally a novella written by Carson McCullers that was then adapted into a play by Edward Albee. Set in a small southern town, it tells the story of a love triangle between a woman, a convict and a hunchback. In long…
Okay, so you’re still reading, which means you’re interested. I’ll be posting here throughout our rehearsal process little bits of dramaturgical nerdery for those who subscribe to that sort of thing. With the help of my social savvy partners in crime, I’ll be throwing out some tweets and facebook messages as well. So, without further ado…
HOW IT STARTED
Albee once said, ‘I seem to lose my mind about every fifth play and do an adaptation.’ ‘The Ballad of the Sad Cafe’ (hereafter to be called simply Ballad for god’s sake) was his first and, according to many, his most successful adaptation (the flip side of that being ‘Lolita’ which was, to put it politely, a train wreck). In his own words, the idea sprung from “two reasons really…one of them is that I am interested in finding out what happens when people do adaptations of novels for the stage. Usually there is a tendency to cheapen—to lessen the work that’s adapted, but then again, I can’t think of very many good playwrights that have ever done adaptations. They’re usually second rate people who do adaptations. I’m not suggesting here that I’m a first-rate person, but I am interested in finding out if it’s possible to do an adaptation of somebody else’s work—to move it from the pages of the novel to the life of the stage—without cheapening or lessening the work. And then again, ten years ago—is it ten? Yes, probably eleven years now…when I first read Ballad of the Sad Cafe, I said to myself, ‘If I ever start writing plays I’d have to make this into a play.’”
Having achieved significant success with his own words in plays from ‘Zoo Story’ to ‘Virginia Woolf”, Albee sent McCullers a letter saying that he wanted to try his hand at an adaptation of Ballad and attached a sample scene. She replied southernly, “Whenever the spirit moves you, I would be most anxious to read the first scene…I have a feeling we are going to be really good friends.’ So, dear reader, to make this long story somewhat shorter, he did, she said ‘yes’ and they did indeed.
A couple of months before Ballad’s Broadway opening, McCullers and a lady friend spent part of the summer at Water Island with Albee and Terrance McNally. Albee would write for four hours each morning, followed by solitary walks on the beach (cue romantic music). Each evening, he would read aloud to his guests; among the plays were those by Beckett and himself, including new scenes from Ballad. McCullers would write, “Thank you for the sun, the hay, the suntan, not to mention Virginia Woffe (sic) and all the fun, Happy Days and our Ballad.”
The mutual admiration was evident by these ego-stroking quotes: McCullers: “This play, as luminous as its stars, is about the destruction of a dream. It has the passion of a Greek drama although the setting is in an eastern town. It shows malicious humiliation and love and tenderness and bitterness. It has in it compassion, the wildest humor and the dark brilliance that to me, is peculiar to the genius of Edward Albee. Albee: “a curious magician…both child and sage; pain and joy. She has mastered the card tricks of both art and life, and she has seen equally and clearly the sleight of hand of reality and the truth which resides in legerdemain.”
Of course, Albee could have stopped there, but didn’t: “I wouldn’t like to have had her as an enemy. She could be vicious and terribly selfish, but she was very bright and a good friend. I enjoyed her company.” Ah, Albee.
So, that’s a peek in at the beginning and a little on the two of them. I’ve got plenty more, so stay tuned…
Your humble dramaturg,
snook
Okay, so you’re still reading, which means you’re interested. I’ll be posting here throughout our rehearsal process little bits of dramaturgical nerdery for those who subscribe to that sort of thing. With the help of my social savvy partners in crime, I’ll be throwing out some tweets and facebook messages as well. So, without further ado…
HOW IT STARTED
Albee once said, ‘I seem to lose my mind about every fifth play and do an adaptation.’ ‘The Ballad of the Sad Cafe’ (hereafter to be called simply Ballad for god’s sake) was his first and, according to many, his most successful adaptation (the flip side of that being ‘Lolita’ which was, to put it politely, a train wreck). In his own words, the idea sprung from “two reasons really…one of them is that I am interested in finding out what happens when people do adaptations of novels for the stage. Usually there is a tendency to cheapen—to lessen the work that’s adapted, but then again, I can’t think of very many good playwrights that have ever done adaptations. They’re usually second rate people who do adaptations. I’m not suggesting here that I’m a first-rate person, but I am interested in finding out if it’s possible to do an adaptation of somebody else’s work—to move it from the pages of the novel to the life of the stage—without cheapening or lessening the work. And then again, ten years ago—is it ten? Yes, probably eleven years now…when I first read Ballad of the Sad Cafe, I said to myself, ‘If I ever start writing plays I’d have to make this into a play.’”
Having achieved significant success with his own words in plays from ‘Zoo Story’ to ‘Virginia Woolf”, Albee sent McCullers a letter saying that he wanted to try his hand at an adaptation of Ballad and attached a sample scene. She replied southernly, “Whenever the spirit moves you, I would be most anxious to read the first scene…I have a feeling we are going to be really good friends.’ So, dear reader, to make this long story somewhat shorter, he did, she said ‘yes’ and they did indeed.
A couple of months before Ballad’s Broadway opening, McCullers and a lady friend spent part of the summer at Water Island with Albee and Terrance McNally. Albee would write for four hours each morning, followed by solitary walks on the beach (cue romantic music). Each evening, he would read aloud to his guests; among the plays were those by Beckett and himself, including new scenes from Ballad. McCullers would write, “Thank you for the sun, the hay, the suntan, not to mention Virginia Woffe (sic) and all the fun, Happy Days and our Ballad.”
The mutual admiration was evident by these ego-stroking quotes: McCullers: “This play, as luminous as its stars, is about the destruction of a dream. It has the passion of a Greek drama although the setting is in an eastern town. It shows malicious humiliation and love and tenderness and bitterness. It has in it compassion, the wildest humor and the dark brilliance that to me, is peculiar to the genius of Edward Albee. Albee: “a curious magician…both child and sage; pain and joy. She has mastered the card tricks of both art and life, and she has seen equally and clearly the sleight of hand of reality and the truth which resides in legerdemain.”
Of course, Albee could have stopped there, but didn’t: “I wouldn’t like to have had her as an enemy. She could be vicious and terribly selfish, but she was very bright and a good friend. I enjoyed her company.” Ah, Albee.
So, that’s a peek in at the beginning and a little on the two of them. I’ve got plenty more, so stay tuned…
Your humble dramaturg,
snook
Friday, May 22, 2009
2009/2010 Season
The Ballad of the Sad Café
by Edward Albee
based on the novella by Carson McCullers
Directed by Ronan Marra
August 9 – September 12, 2009
Chopin Theatre
Albee's signature piercing dialogue propels this 1963 adaptation that centers on the question: is it better to be the loved, or the beloved? Amelia Evans is the despotic proprietor of The Sad Café, located in a small
Featuring Ensemble Members Meredith Bell Alvarez, Vincent Lonergan, Simone Roos, Aaron Snook, Joseph Stearns and Philip Winston with Artistic Associate Bries Vannon and Guest Artists Brigitte Ditmars, Ehren Fournier, Eric Paskey and Charles Schoenherr.
Aftermath
by Ronan Marra
directed by Ronan Marra
Spring 2010
Perhaps most famous for his mysterious death by drowning at age 27, what is less known about Brian Jones is that he was the founder of The Rolling Stones. A master musician, Jones could pick up an instrument he’s never touched before and have it down within the hour. His obsession with non-traditional instrumentation and the musicians of Jajouka would make an unheard of statement on the Stones’ music and beyond. While his fashion, addictions and sexual escapades made the headlines, Jones’ lasting impact on the musical landscape of the world -- not only on rock n’ roll -- is masked behind his high profile relationships, his drug-induced arrests and the two members of the Stones that would become the face of his band. Part bio-play, part musical, “Aftermath” focuses on the dramatic side of rock n’ roll that too often gets ignored: the rock n’ roll.
Featuring Ensemble Members Aaron Snook and Joseph Stearns (remaining cast TBA)
Monday, May 4, 2009
Anniversary
So yeah... this is just about the one-year anniversary of our last blog post. Clearly, we haven't made it much of a priority. In fact, up until last week we had been meaning to delete it.
We've changed our minds, however, as everyone at Signal has agreed to put a new (and necessary) emphasis on our online presence. That will entail a lot of new ventures for the company as a whole, but to start with let's just say that something is frozen over when Aaron starts a Facebook account. And Vince is soon to follow. That's right. Vince.
Oh! And Signal itself is finally represented on the site. Go find us there. We'll "tweet" with you, too, if you are so inclined -- @SignalEnsemble (right?).
All of that is for starters.
Over the next few months we'll be rolling out several additions and changes to the way we look online. So keep an eye out... we're very excited.
What else?
- There are only seven performances left of "The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie." This Thursday, we are offering 2-for-1's with the password "Assassin." Come check it out. Seriously. It's awesome. And did we mention you only have seven chances left?
- Watch for our 09/10 season announcement this week or next. We revisit one of our favorite playwrights (Albee), and take a shot at something you've definitely never heard of before...
- Congrats to all of this year's Jeff nominees, but a special shout out to our friends Jon Steinhagen, Elise Kauzlaric, Don Bender and Paul Holmquist.
That's all for now, but not for long.
We've changed our minds, however, as everyone at Signal has agreed to put a new (and necessary) emphasis on our online presence. That will entail a lot of new ventures for the company as a whole, but to start with let's just say that something is frozen over when Aaron starts a Facebook account. And Vince is soon to follow. That's right. Vince.
Oh! And Signal itself is finally represented on the site. Go find us there. We'll "tweet" with you, too, if you are so inclined -- @SignalEnsemble (right?).
All of that is for starters.
Over the next few months we'll be rolling out several additions and changes to the way we look online. So keep an eye out... we're very excited.
What else?
- There are only seven performances left of "The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie." This Thursday, we are offering 2-for-1's with the password "Assassin." Come check it out. Seriously. It's awesome. And did we mention you only have seven chances left?
- Watch for our 09/10 season announcement this week or next. We revisit one of our favorite playwrights (Albee), and take a shot at something you've definitely never heard of before...
- Congrats to all of this year's Jeff nominees, but a special shout out to our friends Jon Steinhagen, Elise Kauzlaric, Don Bender and Paul Holmquist.
That's all for now, but not for long.
Thursday, May 15, 2008
Signal Nominated for 7 Jeff Awards
The Non-Equity Jeff Award nominations came out earlier this month and we're so pleased to report that Signal's 1776 and Old Wicked Songs were nominated in the following categories:
1776
Production - Musical
Director - Musical (ensemble member Ronan Marra)
Actor in a Leading Role - Musical (ensemble member Philip Winston)
Actor in a Supporting Role - Musical (ensemble member Vincent L. Lonergan)
Costume Design (Laura M. Dana)
Old Wicked Songs
Actor in a Leading Role - Play (ensemble member Vincent L. Lonergan)
Actor in a Leading Role - Play (Shawn Pfautsch)
1776 is Signal's first musical and represents our first nomination in the Production category. Ronan's nomination is his second, after a New Work nod for Landslide. That's our Vince up there with two acting noms (his first and second). It's also a first for Philip. Laura won Best Costume Design for Seascape. It's also Shawn's first acting nod after receiving nominations for his play Hatfield and McCoy for the House.
Hearty congratulations to all!
Here's the full list of nominees.
1776
Production - Musical
Director - Musical (ensemble member Ronan Marra)
Actor in a Leading Role - Musical (ensemble member Philip Winston)
Actor in a Supporting Role - Musical (ensemble member Vincent L. Lonergan)
Costume Design (Laura M. Dana)
Old Wicked Songs
Actor in a Leading Role - Play (ensemble member Vincent L. Lonergan)
Actor in a Leading Role - Play (Shawn Pfautsch)
1776 is Signal's first musical and represents our first nomination in the Production category. Ronan's nomination is his second, after a New Work nod for Landslide. That's our Vince up there with two acting noms (his first and second). It's also a first for Philip. Laura won Best Costume Design for Seascape. It's also Shawn's first acting nod after receiving nominations for his play Hatfield and McCoy for the House.
Hearty congratulations to all!
Here's the full list of nominees.
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