Starting A New Play Tomorrow.

Write a Play in 30 Days. NaPlWriMo.

Audience Experience Still Counts

So you invite all your Facebook "friends" to your show and entice them with comp tickets. Maybe you need to fill the house because a reviewer is coming*. Maybe you just need to fill the house. Or maybe you're the rare individual who actually "likes" every single one of your FB "friends" and it's just because time is tight for everyone and getting together is such a hassle, like we all have to get in a cars or on public transportation or our bikes or whatever mode of transportation we favor and, you know, just generally make an effort to be in the room with someone and act like we value them and like commit the revolutionary act of acknowledging that typing is not the equivalent of actually spending time with our friends and everything, that, well, since you also have this show going on, that well, it just makes the most sense efficiency-wise to get them all together in the same room for one night.

Whatever possesses you to invite your FB "friends" to your show, remember this important guideline: you still have to treat them well. Yes. You still have to treat them like they matter. Like they're real people with real dollars to spend on your show or, in the case of comps, real people with their own FB "friends," of which you, yourself, are one, FB being kind of reciprocal that way, or their own army of Twitter followers, or even their own blogs - where, instead of actually mentioning the name of your show and how much they liked it (or not) across their entire social network (and entreating - or is that entweeting - same network to see your show), they devote their energy to writing snarky posts about how you treated them after they drove 50 miles to see your show. Yes. And this is especially true if you're a really small company either renting or residing in a really small theater (49 seats and under). Yes. You have to say hi to the people who show up to see your work and like act all grateful that they came and make them feel welcome and if you know their name, don't be afraid to use it even. Or else it needs to be very clear that hospitality is not part of your contract - like in those extremely hip restaurants where part of the experience is being on the receiving end of all the attitude the waiters sling your way. Either way, acknowledge that these people who came to see your show are in the room. Look at them and make eye contact or roll your eyes in a way that conveys the message that you're acting indifferent or abusive for reasons that are intrinsic to the other person's enjoyment of the evening. Give some indication that you appreciate that they came out to support you and your company. You're the one who has to extend some effort here because when it comes to audiences, like most things in life, showing up is half the battle.

Yeah. I know. It's hard. But get this: it's necessary. You have to do it. It's critical when your FB "friends," or anyone who wouldn't personally help you move a dead body when called by you at 4am with absolutely no money changing hands except for maybe coffee or breakfast afterwards, come to see your show that you treat them well. When do you need to do this? Simple. This needs to occur the moment they walk in the door. That's right. The audience experience starts as soon as they walk in the door.** Not after they get their ticket. Or when the lights come up and the show starts, but exactly the moment they walk in the door. This is so basic I'm stunned I have to mention it.

It doesn't have to be you personally because that may not always be possible. But anyone who is in the theater representing your company - like your box office person or your ushers or your artistic director or your producer or like everyone who has anything to do with your show - every last one of those people needs to convey the sense that they're glad that your FB "friends" showed up. That they're glad anyone showed up. Anyone at all. Because? Well, this is also so obvious and basic I can't believe I have to write it - you may have only one chance. One chance to make it right.

You don't really want someone seeing your work one time. You want them to come back. Right? You want a to build a base of people who, for whatever reason - besides either being related to you or being a real friend - you want a group of people who will come out on a dark, rainy night, give up time with their family, or pay money for a babysitter, and/or put down their remotes, you want a group of people who will put their excuses and their very real obligations and inconveniences aside to come out and support and sustain your work.

And, maybe, ideally, supporting and sustaining you and your work might mean that you don't always have to create a perfect work of art. That from time to time, you and the audience could maybe take a risk, however you define that, and maybe you could be allowed to risk a little something and try to push some boundaries or explore something that might challenge people in some way, and maybe, just maybe, we could acknowledge that people are human and fallible, even artists, and maybe the possibility of failure could exist as part of the audience contract. If any of this is like ballpark of what you're aiming for then, unless you're like some kind of creative genius who makes work so stunning and original and amazing that society gives you a by on treating people with anything remotely resembling kind regard, well, then, yes, you're going to have to be nice to people who come see your show. You're going to have to build some kind of rapport with your audience that keeps them coming back and makes them want to bring everyone they know through your door. And if you don't? Well, that's kind of basic and obvious too, isn't it, eh?

_______________________________________________________________

*If reviewers don't pay attention to audience reaction and don't account for it in reviews, why do people try to paper their houses? Why not let the critic sit in an empty theater? Why pretend we don't need a critic's support when it's quite clear that we do? Just what is the point of this dance? Just sayin'.

**Some will argue that it starts the minute a potential audience member comes into contact with your show in any sort of way. Post card, webpage, etc and yeah, I have to agree. I would and will go so far as to say that the audience experience begins the moment you decide you're going to make work. But the point here is that sometimes we pay so much attention to marketing the show and getting people into the theater that it's easy to overlook the niceties of civil interaction that need to occur once virtual people actually show up in real time inserting themselves into physical space and dragging their wants and needs and urges and prejudices and all that icky, gooey stuff that makes it hard to be in the room with people for long periods of time along with them.

Oh Man. I'm In Awe James Franco.

I wish my first acting class had been approached like this. I might have gotten that Little Caesar's commercial.

Acting With James Franco Episode 1: "Sense Memory" from James Franco

Acting with James Franco Episode 2: "Green Screen" from James Franco

But wait there's more. Go here.

Thanks, T. So made my day.

Away

I'll be gone for the next week, so won't be updating. Please check back. There will be more Infinite Jest posts - I'm ready to Come On In and talk about the wraith now. Plus, I'll be catching up on my Dracula reading this week and maybe I can add that to the mix here.

In the meantime, see some theater, read some books, or get outside, or make some soup, or something.

Big List: I'll Be On Neither Coast Edition

If I were going to be in the Bay Area this weekend, this is the show I'd be seeing.



New York peeps can catch it next weekend here.

When It Rains

This has been the week where people ask me to audition. Like no one ever asks me to audition and all of a sudden - whamo, I'm in great demand. Plus, I found a couple of shows I'd like to audition for. So now I'm looking for monologue material. I've been playing around with something from, you guessed...Infinite Jest. There's a great monologue featuring JOI's father talking about objects and Marlon Brando. I've been playing with that, but am not sure it works for me. I've also been playing with a monologue from August: Osage County (because you know, no one is using that and well, let's not even discuss what I really think of the play).

And I don't even have a head shot. In fact the last time I had a professional head shot taken it was such an uncomfortable, frustrating experience that I vowed never to do it again. Strangers really can't get good pictures of me, especially strangers who get frustrated when they can't get a good picture of me and then tell me how frustrated I'm making them because my particular je ne sais quoi keeps evading them so they're making me aware of it in the desperate hope that I'll be able to tie it down for them because that's like my job. Except. You know, they've gone and made me up to look like someone else. No lie. I looked like Dorothy Gail from The Wizard of Oz. So sure. I'm going to look a little petulant and removed, and uncomfortable. Because anyone who knows me can attest that I'm no Dorothy Gail. So. Before I ask someone else to take my headshot, I'm going to play around with taking some self-portraits and see what happens. Maybe I'll discover just how frustrating and elusive of a subject I am.

Oh. And if you have any ideas for monologues, feel free to leave your suggestions in Comments.

Color Me Profoundly Disturbed. But We Already Knew That, Eh?

The nervous system of any age or nation is its creative workers, its artists. And if that nervous system is profoundly disturbed by its environment, the work it produces will inescapably reflect the disturbances, sometimes obliquely and sometimes with violent directness. – Tennesee Williams