Limited Perspective

I see these black-and-white photos of old men sitting around conference tables negotiating an end to a war, or whatever. I say to myself, look at them. They’re old. What do they care? They’re going to be dead before their steamship gets them back to London or wherever. Why do they want to waste their precious remaining years, months, moments (it’s all the same) in these stiff collars talking about bullshit that’s all going to be undone by the next group of old men in stiff collars. Theatre maybe has the answer. Two shows in February, at least pointed to something important. I was lucky enough to be given a role in An Incomplete List of All the Things I’m Going to Miss When the World is No Longer, produced by Dacha Theatre. It is explicitly about the end of the world. The idea is, it becomes known that a comet (etc.) is going to collide with the Earth and that will be the end. Contra the Bible, we know the date and the hour. On the last day, a group of friends throws one last party.

Before tonight's run of An Incomplete List , one of the Theatre Off Jackson staff let me in and then kept going about their duties outside, hosing down the ramp. So, I was the first person in the theater. And going down the steps into the green room was such a feeling of being home, where I belong, and where shit makes sense. Old basement theaters with their decades-old carpet, and wires, pipes and makeshift whatever, and posters and ghosts and everything else are so special. And being the first one in the space, quiet but vibrant and ready for us to harness the magic that lives in there -- nothing like it. Photo by me, standing on the stage, tonight. 

There is a moment in History of Theater: About, By, For, and Near , now playing for a few more days only (sadly) at ACT, where the protagonist, played by Dedra Woods, faces upstage, away from the audience, and watches a company of Black actors perform a minstrel show. Then when it’s done, she turns toward us, with tears running down her face. It was heartbreaking watching her heartbreak at realizing what past generations of Black actors were forced to endure. The power of the moment, theatrically, was driven by those tears.  The show centers on Woods’ character as she goes back in time, literally, to explore the history of Black theater, and Black theater artists, having been commissioned to bring such a show to the stage in the present day. In this way the character stands in for Reginald Andre Jackson, the playwright, and Valerie Curtis Newton, the director of History of Theater. It’s upsetting what she finds, but she makes it into a history of endurance, creativity, and triumph, eve

I am in a musical right now. It's called  An Incomplete List of all the Things I'm Going to Miss When the World is No Longer .  The other day, before the show, I asked the band to listen to my rendition of the old Skyliners song from 1958,  Since I Don't Have You . I don't write music and read it in only a rudimentary way (go up, go down, rest, etc.) But I can follow the rhythm. I played around with the song one slow weekend last fall. I gave it a bluegrass beat. It's a sad song about yearning for love. I thought giving it a peppy vibe would be fun, and it was. I sang it in my apartment for hours, seemingly, that afternoon, drumming my fingers on the kitchen counter to keep the time. Fun. The inspiration to do it came, at least in part from stumbling on a bluegrass cover version of the old Bryan Adams song,  Heaven . It's by Chad Darou.  You can hear how it does the same thing. It takes an almost weepy love song and gives it a hay ride. There's a who

 Here's something I wrote eight years ago today after seeing the movie Her. The movie Her is brilliant science-fiction Words, words, words, I’m so sick of words. - Eliza Doolittle At its best, science-fiction asks a speculative question and answers it. In the case of Her, the question is what if technology, a computer operating system, really became interactive? What if we could really talk with our devices the way we talk with the people in our lives? What would be the impact on our lives? Our culture? The machines themselves? The film explores those questions and like all good science-fiction, drives at a deeper meaning. The key to unlocking the meaning is a tiny part at the very end where Amy puts her head on Theodore’s shoulder. It is a simple, wordless gesture. It is there for a reason. Early in the movie, we see Theodore at his workplace, Beautiful Handwritten Letters dot com, composing love letters, condolence letters, thank you letters, all sorts of letters amountin

Here I am working front-of-house for Spectrum Dance Theater for their latest iteration of Donald Byrd’s The Harlem Nutcracker, now playing at On the Boards. It was a really lucky opportunity to both be of service and to get to see the show. I love doing front-of-house. Everyone is so excited, filled with anticipation and wonder as they approach the desk with (or without) their printed confirmations. And then I get to tell them they are all checked-in, the house will open soon, and the bar is open right now. Only then, with that out of the way, is their mind cleared to focus on the experience to come. Spectrum was kind enough to allow me – after everyone was seated and the doors had closed – to see the show. Sometimes you see two dancers do a lift that seems to defy human abilities and at the same time be the apotheosis of those same abilities. I got to see a perfect one of those tonight. It was as if one dancer levitated from the stage and came to rest on the outstretched arms

Be wary, look about. - The Nurse, Romeo and Juliet, Act III, Scene V Warning: this play contains theatricality. That sums up a big chunk of the acreage covered by the reviews and write-ups of Not / Our Town that I have seen. They all talk about a unique feature of the play. Before it begins, you are asked to scan a QR code and answer several questions. Audience answers collectively determine various things that happen in the play. For example, you can request that the actors use props, which they did not in the original Our Town a century ago. So, I guess I am doing the same as the items in the Times (in the regular paper and in their The Ticket ), the Stranger , and Broadway World Seattle . I am leading off with talking about this. But only because I think the focus on this feature dominates the discussion and misses the point. I don’t recall how many questions there are, maybe seven or eight or so, and as the play goes on, you can sort of count them off in your head. If you’re li