Jumping Mouse- The performances

The last rehearsal before Jumping Mouse started its performances, I was pretty worried. One of our actors had to miss rehearsal because he was sick with strep throat, and the energy suffered because of it.

Once we started performing, the show really came together. I knew that once we had an audience in front of us, the energy and the pace of the show would pick up and improve. The actors were so much more alive onstage, and the play seemed to move a lot quicker. We had four performances, two in the EDH studio theatre and two in elementary schools. The performances in EDH seemed to me to be less engaging than the ones in front of the children. I think this was caused by several factors; the first being that the performances in the schools came after the ones in the studio, and the actors were more comfortable with performing by that point. The performances in the studio were the first time the actors had to actually deal with audience participation rather than Zach Apony and I pretending to be children. Also, there were far fewer actual children in the audience at Hampshire than originally expected. Adult audiences are always somewhat lukewarm in their response to audience interaction, because they are so much more self conscious than children. The first day there were only two or three children in the audience, so when Sassy would ask the audience a question, the response was often a big "YES" rather than the more varied and creative responses the kids came up with in subsequent performances.

Also, the environment of the Studio Theatre was, in retrospect, rather stifling. Because neither Zach nor I know anything about lighting design, we had to depend on the lights already in the theatre. Without lights or a set, the only element of spectacle in the Studio were the masks.

However, the performances in the schools were completely different from the performances in the studio. Since most of our rehearsals took place in a classroom in FPH, returning to that environment for the Monday performance really reinvigorated the show. There was no room for a backstage area in the classroom, so we created one out of bookshelves, blankets, and a whiteboard. The actors peeped out from behind the screen, in character, as mice, as the kids came in. There were so many children in that audience, and all of them were so excited to have a play happening in their own classroom. They were so much more interactive with the actors, coming up with really adorable responses to the questions asked by the actors. ("What are you creatures?" "We're red blood cells!") Also, after the performances, the kids were very interested in the mask making process and asked very good questions as to how the show was created.

The last performance was at the Dunphy School gymnasium at Williamsburg. We had a much bigger performance space, and a backstage created by a rolling blackboard and a sheet suspended between two poles. There were probably around 60 kids, ranging in age from 1st to 3rd Grade. The kids were a little rowdy, but that just meant the actors had to amp up their energy, which made the performance all the better. After all the play was over, the kids all lined up to touch the masks. One little boy came up to me afterwards and asked, "Do you think I could do this?"
"What, do theatre? Create a play?"
"Yeah, do you think I could do it?"
"Absolutely." I responded, and the little boy gave me a huge grin and a hug. That was one of the most amazing moment I had during Jumping Mouse. I love the feeling of introducing children to this thing that makes me so overwhelmingly happy. I was so glad to be able to bring this play to schools, because the show really felt the way it was supposed to when it was in front of an audience of children.

Jumping Mouse in Retrospect: Part I

I've decided to make several posts reflecting about Jumping Mouse- the process, the performances, the mask making, as well as the things that went right with the show.

But pretty much everything that could have gone wrong in a show happened with Jumping Mouse.

 I'm not saying I'm not happy with Jumping Mouse, but this show has been incredibly challenging.

The performances were what I wanted them to be. I'm not saying I'm not proud of the show and proud of my actors. I am proud. I think Jumping Mouse is an awesome play. But pretty much everything that could have happened to stress me out as a director did happen.

First of all, I wasn't supposed to be directing. I was supposed to be focusing entirely on designing the masks and puppets. But before the process even started, the director Zach had lined up for Jumping Mouse had over committed and wasn't able to do it. I was happy to volunteer- This was a week or so after the Yellow Boat had ended and I was feeling bereft without a show. I don't regret the choice to direct Jumping Mouse at all, but I won't say it made my final semester of Div III particularly easy.

Then the auditions turned up one actor, total. I've already written about my casting process for Jumping Mouse, and I'm just emphasizing here, it was really difficult. Everyone seemed to have already committed to a lot of things by the time our auditions came around, and even when we came up with a cast, everyone's schedule was completely impossible. The only times we could ever meet was Sunday in the afternoons and Tuesdays from 9-11, which meant that half of the time, everyone was absolutely exhausted, cranky, and ready to go home to bed.

Attendance was a huge problem. We had one full cast rehearsal, total, before the play went up. All of our rehearsals were supposed to be full cast rehearsals, because most of the time the actors are onstage, but at least one person was absent every time we tried to rehearse. Without everyone there, we often had to skip through entire scenes, which messed with the flow of the play. Most of the time only one person was missing, but without everyone there, it was often hard for the actors to take things seriously, especially in conjunction with late nights. We also had a lot of actors being sick, which always presents a problem. When an actor is sick, it feels wrong to expect a perfect performance from them, but I often left rehearsals feeling like I wasn't getting what I wanted from them in terms of the high energy we needed.  There was only one dress rehearsal where we had a full cast present, and one actor was sick with strep throat.

Line memorization was another challenge. We set march break as a deadline for having everything memorized, and when they came back, most of them did not have the lines down as well as I needed them to have them. One actor struggled so much with the lines we ended up having to drop him and recast the role of Old Mouse. Some of the others were still floundering with lines during the last week of rehearsals, and I would have to endure long pauses while they struggled to pick up their cues, giving me helpless looks and mouthing 'line.'

The most difficult part for me about being a director is my own perfectionism. In making the masks, I spent a lot of time making them look exactly the way I wanted them to look, fitting them together into a very specific visual aesthetic that made the show what it was. I think I really succeeded in creating a visually cohesive play with no set and cardboard props and masks. I was able to spend the 150+ hours it took to make them perfect. With the actors, though, I wish I had had more time with them to perfect each moment the way I wanted. I didn't want to lead a really demanding process where I would call my actors for hours every day. I wanted rehearsals to be relaxed and fun, and they were. But because of attendance problems, actors dropping out, and sickness, rehearsals were always sort of stressful for me. I think it's because I see every mistake the actors make as a reflection on me. If they mess up, I flinch, even though I have no control over what happens once they're onstage. Because all in all, a show is supposed to reflect a director's vision, and I always find it frustrating when things deviate from the specific way I want things to look onstage.

Despite all this, I think the show was really lovely. The audience seemed to really like it, and most importantly the children seemed very excited and engaged, even the littlest ones. I think the script shone, the actors are all incredibly talented, and the masks were exactly what I wanted them to be. I just think the play would have been better if things had gone a little smoother, and we had had more time as a cast to perfect every single moment of the show. But that is the nature of the theatre; there is never enough time and things always go terribly wrong. The exciting thing is overcoming all those terrible things and pushing through, and hopefully the audience never notices.

Casting For Children's Theatre

There is a special type of actor needed when creating children's theatre. This actor is bright eyed and silly and filled with a crazy energy onstage. This actor is willing to take risks, to roll around on the floor, to use a silly voice in conjunction with ridiculous posture without even a suggestion of self consciousness or embarrassment. This actor is fully alive onstage, with an awareness of the emotional truth of the moment without being afraid to be over the top. Because being over the top is what needs to happen, because we're performing for kids. Casting for Yellow Boat and for Jumping Mouse were both very challenging and difficult parts of the process. Auditions are always stressful, but the plays presented very different challenges.

I had very specific things I needed when casting the Yellow Boat. I needed the actors to be flexible: they had to be able to portray a wide variety of emotions while still retaining a level of childishness throughout. I needed them to be emotionally strong as well as funny. And I needed a Benjamin. 

Cole came into the audition process because I had mentioned casually during a drama therapy workshop led by Becca Greene Van Horne that I might need a child actor. I seriously debated with myself before auditions began about whether to use a child or to find myself a baby faced first year. I was concerned with having to deal with a rehearsal schedule that had to be fit around a child's needs, as well as the need for an actor who could perform the character's tragic arc. Becca emailed the mother of one of the kids in her improv classes, and  Kissy Mathewson emailed me asking about the play and the auditions. When Cole walked into the audition room, I felt he was perfect. Then I heard his reading. He understood the character from the start, and for the first time I heard Benjamin's voice shining through that boy.  I gave him a script at the end of his audition and told him he was in. 

Another concern of mine was the issue of diversity. I believe it is important for casts to be culturally diverse, especially when performing for children. Kids need to have some sort of emotional connection with the actors onstage, whether they identify with their character based on their gender, their age, their character, or the way they look. I also thought it would be ludicrous to have a play about colors performed by an all white cast. Unfortunately, no actors of color showed up to auditions, as well as only two male bodied actors, one of whom had about as much energy onstage as a limp dishrag. I ended up asking my lighting designer, Matt Gonzalez, to audition. When he did, we realized that he was incredibly talented. He really was the only choice for Father, the most emotionally resonant and important male role in the play. We pleaded, let him take his pick of all the characters, and gave him a night to decide. When he said yes, I danced around the room. 

The rest of the casting for the Yellow Boat was a matter of choosing the 5 best actors from the pool of 7 actors who showed up to auditions and had the necessary energy for the play. Cutting people is terrible. I always hate passing up a good actor, especially since everyone at the callbacks was lovely. But I think we mostly made the right choices. 

The actor who we had originally cast to play Mother ended up dropping the play in December. It was a pretty difficult loss, because she was an emotional powerhouse, though I think in the end the role would have been too hard on her. I asked Becca Wefald, one of the two lovely people we had to cut who had stayed on as assistant movement director. She stepped in, a little hesitantly. All of a sudden the play had to adjust to a completely different interpretation of the mother's character. Since she started late, Becca had the most difficult position in the cast, also because her character had to experience something as devastating as the fatal disease of a child. She grew the most as an actor through the process, keeping a journal and, through hard work, creating a beautiful character and a really emotionally truthful performance. 

The process for Jumping Mouse has been totally different. We asked the actors from Yellow Boat and straight up offered them roles. I gave the starring role of Jumping Mouse to Sassy Jensen, a lovely bright lively actor who played #3 (Joy)  in the Yellow Boat. I also asked Mike Lion, who played the #2 (Coach) to play the Raccoon, though he was over committed and dropped out after the first read through.  I watched Let the Body Speak, and asked the best actor I saw in that show, Archi Zietman, to play Little Girl Mouse and Frog. 

I held auditions for the three roles we still needed to fill. One actor showed up. He didn't have the perfect energy and seemed to be doing it only to fulfill CEL credit. I cast him as Old Mouse, the smallest role. 

I ended up asking one of my housemates to play Wolf, and then I asked this huge guy who sings bass in my Chorus class if he would play Buffalo. Then, when Mike dropped out, we asked Walker Staples, a lovely high energy guy we knew from some Theatre for Young Audiences classes to be our Raccoon. 

And then we started having some trouble with our actor playing Old Mouse. He missed an important rehearsal and only told us he couldn't come ten minutes beforehand. Then, at the next rehearsal, he showed up late with none of his lines memorized, despite having the smallest part. He also did not seem to remember the blocking or to cheat out onstage. So we were faced with a conundrum: to ask him to leave the process and have Zach fill in, or to hope he got better. 

He just did not have the energy we really needed for the role. He didn't have the spark, the vitality, the silliness. So Zach had a talk with him, and it turned out he was a microbiology student with no interest in theatre or kids, who had signed on for the CEL credit and felt too bad to leave the project even when it became clear that he didn't want to do it. Zach is playing Old Mouse now, and it's wonderful to see the right energy onstage. It has really clarified to me how incredibly important it is to have actors who are vibrant and alive in Children's Theatre, with enough energy to hold children's attention and hopefully make them laugh.  

Creating a Therapeutic Dramatic Process

Theatre heals.

Growing up, I would take refuge in a character. The only reason I stayed at my high school was the theatre program, and the chance it gave me to slip out of my skin. I only felt truly alive and happy in a rehearsal room, immersing myself in the process of creating a show. I was in thirteen productions throughout high school. My greatest achievement at school was student directing a one act play in the winter of my senior year, a play called "Check Please.". 

At Hampshire College, I was cast in two plays the first semester of first year. Both of them were very flawed processes, but I learned so much from observing the directing process of the Div IIIs I was working for. They both had completely different styles and philosophies, as well as extensive training in different disciplines. The first show was a very well organized but emotionally unfulfilled process, with a clear cut schedule, and a lot of dance, inspired by Noh theatre. The second show lasted from September to April, created with the intent of forming a very supportive and collaborative ensemble, but with a very disorganized and overly intensive process that left us actors emotionally drained with very little free time.

The process of creating a healthy show emotionally, especially when dealing with difficult subject matter, is one of active listening. As a director, I find a special focus in a rehearsal room- a focus on all the different things going on around me, the dynamics of actor and character and story and crew and set and costume changes. I pay attention to the script, the blocking, the stage management, the dramaturg, the actors and the distractions that the actors always find. Knowing when to take a break in rehearsal is crucial.  I always try to follow the energy; it helps me sense whether to stop the actors and change something, or ask a question, and when to let them plow through minor mistakes.

I try to always laugh with the actors in each rehearsal. Most often, I don't have to try.

I keep rehearsal lengths down. Two hours is the perfect amount of time for a rehearsal, most of the time. Besides tech week, I try to never call actors for more than three hours, four hours max. It just maintains the focus and keeps the actors from becoming resentful. Respecting peoples' time as much as possible makes a big difference in terms of morale for cast and crew. I know it sounds really simple and obvious, but I have been in so many rehearsals as an actor where we would spend hours sitting around, bored and annoyed.

I get to rehearsal first. I am the director, it is my job to be there to set up the space with the stage manager. For the Yellow Boat, I would get there an hour early. With Jumping Mouse, I am averaging half an hour early. It helps me to get into the space in my body and mind.

At the end of rehearsal, I set aside five minutes for check outs. I call everyone together and we sit on the floor in a circle with our legs crossed, and our hands touching each other's knees. It sounds's weird, but the minor physical contact helps create a supportive environment. I then start by telling them how I felt about rehearsal. I am honest. When I feel frustrated, I say so, but I try to keep it as postive as possible because my negativity as director affects how the actors feel. I then turn to my left or right, and we all listen to what they have to say, and we go around the circle. It is important to me that everyone has the opportunity to speak in every rehearsal, so every person in the room, quiet or brash, gets a chance to say how they feel. Then I let them go.

Making Jumping Mouse, Out of Silence and the Yellow Boat

I have started this blog as a place to post on my process of directing and designing for Jumping Mouse, a play for young audiences written by my dear friend Zach Patzig. This ties into my Division III, which examines the intersections between creating visual art and creating theatre for young audiences. All plays should have an aesthetic, an all encompassing visual cohesion that sets the tone and clues the audience in to what they are seeing. This manifests in the costumes, the props, and the set, but also in the ways the actors move, speak their lines, and the stage pictures they make with their bodies. My job as director is to examine these theatrical and artistic worlds; the world of the words of the script, the world of the physical things that we make to tell the story, and the world of the things our bodies do onstage, and make them into one play, one spectacle, one story.

This is especially important in creating theatre for children. When young children see a play, they are transported into the story in a way that adult audiences do not necessarily experience. The story becomes real to them. When I was acting in a play for young audiences called "Of Bears and Bunnies," there was a moment where we, the actors, were caught in a net. One child believed so passionately in the world of the play that he ran onstage and tried to rip the net away to free us. Plays for children are not like television. There is no screen separating the story from reality.  The actors playing the characters are real people, standing in front of  them, performing an identity that is real to the child. They do not necessarily see the actor underneath.

Two thirds of my final project for my senior year at Hampshire was directing The Yellow Boat, by David Saar. It was performed in January in the Mainstage Theatre at Hampshire College, as part of the Theatre Department's Slotted Season. This play was about Benjamin, young hemophiliac boy who was a great artist, who contracted AIDS and died at the age of eight. The play was written by his father, as a celebration of his life, for children eight and up. In creating that world, we had to let go of "realistic" scenes and performative techniques in order to create a theatrical representation of Benjamin's imagination. The set was painted white, to represent a blank sheet of paper, and the actors drew pictures on the back of the set, which was a whiteboard. The only furniture was a series of platforms at the back and a giant yellow boat on wheels, which functioned as ambulance, couch, and hospital bed. We had a large budget of over a thousand dollars, and a team of 18 incredible artists, working on everything from making props, to painting sets, to building giant boats, to creating incredible rainbows of light across the stage.

Jumping Mouse has a budget of $127. The team consists of me, Zach Patzig, the playwright/stage manager, Zach Apony the dramaturg, and six actors.

My goal is to create a theatrical experience that will match the Yellow Boat, despite having a tenth of the budget and much fewer people working on it. I want to make this story into a spectacle, and I want the children who come and see this play to believe fully and wholeheartedly in this world. I want to make towering, epic masks that represent the animal characters, and I want them to be representative of the culture of the Native American story that Jumping Mouse comes from. And I want this blog to be where I document everything I do in the pursuit of that goal.

I also will be making the shadow puppets for another dear friend and collaborator, Kaia Jackson's play, Out of Silence, so basically I'm just going to be busy and busier until everything goes up and I graduate.