This season, we are starting a new program at LCT. It's called "Fridays Following." On the Friday following the close of each production, we will be holding a special theatrical event at the theatre that is open to the public.
This new series was born of a on-going discussion that the staff and I have been having for a couple of years now. How do we increase the amount of artistic programming at the theatre without breaking the bank, the backs of the staff, and our spacial limitations? Well, we do it by offering smaller, one-time events that provide a different type of theatre going experience. Hopefully, as we move forward these events will become entirely volunteer produced. This will provide more opportunities for our volunteer actors, directors, and artists to actually create art while being able to maintain a normal life schedule.
We are still in the planning stages for these events, but our first one is this Friday. To introduce this new series, we are hosting a reader's theatre version of The War of the Worlds, the 1938 Mercury Theatre on the Air Broadcast that became controversial and, as a result, legendary. The timing seems right as we are coming up on Halloween when people will be looking for something a little spooky to keep warm on those chilly Autumn nights. The reading will recreate the original broadcast in its entirety, with the on-stage actors playing the characters and creating the sound effects.
We have been fortunate enough to gather a cast of wonderful actors to bring life to the reading. They are Mike Adank, Stacy Breummer, Ryan Knox, Jim Nelson, Dan Radtke, Ryan Soberg, Nicole Wilson, and Tom Wright.
The cost is small, only $5, and the show begins at 7:30 pm. Come out and enjoy this unique experience and be one of the first to experience this exciting new program in the life of LCT!
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Thursday, September 9, 2010
Something Great is Coming...
West Side Story opens tomorrow. I should be more panicked. I should be wondering where the time went. I should be fretting over last minute changes that need to be made. I should be a lot of things, but mostly, I'm ready.
Eight weeks ago seems like such a long time when I look back on it, but it really has been very short. There were times when I wasn't sure how all of this was going to come together. There are so many different elements to a musical, especially this one. Dancing, music, acting, lights, sets, costumes, and on and on. As little as a week ago, I had doubts that everything would come together in time. There was the hint of something special about to happen, but it was little more than a whisper. That was a week ago.
Today I know the show is ready. Against long odds, the cast, crew, and production team has been able to accomplish this daunting task. Everyone was excited when we announced the show, but they also had to wonder how we were going to manage it. "The dancing is too hard." "The music is so complicated." "That show is too large for their stage." These were only challenges that we hadn't met yet. Today, we can forget those challenges because they no longer stand in our way. The dancing was wickedly difficult, but Scott and Anna refused to compromise what they wanted to accomplish, and the actors never quit. Dillon stretched the boundries of our stage with new solutions to old problems. Mandy costumed 34 people in costumes that not only are period accurate, but can withdstand the extreme dancing and movement required by the production. Thanks to Dustin and Mary, the songs will sound as people remember them. This is a team of which LCT can be very proud. I know that I am.
There are many misconceptions about the director's job. So many people credit all of what is put on stage to the director. It often becomes all about the director's "vision." Nothing could be further from the truth. As the director, my job is not to impose my vision upon the team. "Vision" is overrated. My job is to provide the artistic team, cast, and crew a direction for effectively telling this particular story. Ultimately, I know what I want a show to look and feel like, what emotions I want it to inspire, but even I cannot see all ends and how they will come together. Directing a musical is often like directing traffic. Who goes where to do what and when.
I rely on the production team to bring their absolute best to the process. I am, and will always be, completely incompetent as a choreographer. I couldn't teach people music to save my life. Any attempt at lighting design would likely result in unintentional arson. My ability to dress myself, much less 34 people in multiple outfits, is suspect at best. My job is not to dictate all of these elements to the team, nor to treat my actors as walking meat puppets (a nice little term that I got from Amanda in the box office). My job as a director is to create an atmosphere that allows artists, for that is what everyone involved in the production are, to play, create, experience failure, and succeed.
West Side Story is an example of what we can accomplish together as a team. One person cannot do it all. The work of this cast and crew is exemplary. I look forward to putting this in front of an audience and letting it come to life.
Something great is coming to LCT...don't let it pass you by.
Check out the West Side Story commercial:
www.youtube.com/LCTlifeonstage
Eight weeks ago seems like such a long time when I look back on it, but it really has been very short. There were times when I wasn't sure how all of this was going to come together. There are so many different elements to a musical, especially this one. Dancing, music, acting, lights, sets, costumes, and on and on. As little as a week ago, I had doubts that everything would come together in time. There was the hint of something special about to happen, but it was little more than a whisper. That was a week ago.
Today I know the show is ready. Against long odds, the cast, crew, and production team has been able to accomplish this daunting task. Everyone was excited when we announced the show, but they also had to wonder how we were going to manage it. "The dancing is too hard." "The music is so complicated." "That show is too large for their stage." These were only challenges that we hadn't met yet. Today, we can forget those challenges because they no longer stand in our way. The dancing was wickedly difficult, but Scott and Anna refused to compromise what they wanted to accomplish, and the actors never quit. Dillon stretched the boundries of our stage with new solutions to old problems. Mandy costumed 34 people in costumes that not only are period accurate, but can withdstand the extreme dancing and movement required by the production. Thanks to Dustin and Mary, the songs will sound as people remember them. This is a team of which LCT can be very proud. I know that I am.
There are many misconceptions about the director's job. So many people credit all of what is put on stage to the director. It often becomes all about the director's "vision." Nothing could be further from the truth. As the director, my job is not to impose my vision upon the team. "Vision" is overrated. My job is to provide the artistic team, cast, and crew a direction for effectively telling this particular story. Ultimately, I know what I want a show to look and feel like, what emotions I want it to inspire, but even I cannot see all ends and how they will come together. Directing a musical is often like directing traffic. Who goes where to do what and when.
I rely on the production team to bring their absolute best to the process. I am, and will always be, completely incompetent as a choreographer. I couldn't teach people music to save my life. Any attempt at lighting design would likely result in unintentional arson. My ability to dress myself, much less 34 people in multiple outfits, is suspect at best. My job is not to dictate all of these elements to the team, nor to treat my actors as walking meat puppets (a nice little term that I got from Amanda in the box office). My job as a director is to create an atmosphere that allows artists, for that is what everyone involved in the production are, to play, create, experience failure, and succeed.
West Side Story is an example of what we can accomplish together as a team. One person cannot do it all. The work of this cast and crew is exemplary. I look forward to putting this in front of an audience and letting it come to life.
Something great is coming to LCT...don't let it pass you by.
Check out the West Side Story commercial:
www.youtube.com/LCTlifeonstage
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Opening Night and the Director
"I bet you can't wait until opening night."
I get that a lot. In fact, it's one of the most common statements I hear from people when I'm working on a play, both as a director and an actor.
As an actor, opening night is like Christmas. There's an excitement that I can feel the moment I wake up that morning. There's a nervous tension in the pit of my stomach that makes it almost impossible to sit down longer than ten minutes at a stretch. (Which is hard enough for me to begin with.) The delicious anticipation as I enter the stage door and begin my pre-show routines. Dressing, stretching, vocal warm-ups, and on and on... I'm a very ritualistic actor when it comes to my pre-show prep. Everything done in the same order at the same time. It's not about superstition, it's about preparation. It's what I have to do to get myself physically and mentally ready for the show. Ultimately, it's all to distract myself from the terror in the back of my mind that I might, MIGHT, fail. I used to get so worked up before performances that I'd throw up before curtain every night. (Needless to say, toothpaste and a toothbrush were a part of my regular ritual, and still are even though the preceding problem is not.) Opening night is something that actors can't wait for, yet often approach with an almost unnatural fear. "Are we ready, or could we use another week?" (Actors always want another week.)
As a director, though, opening night is usually bittersweet. Here is this thing that has been a part of my life for sometimes over a year by the time you include the selection, analysis and research phase, and rehearsal process. For actors, opening night is the beginning, for the director, it is the end. Once the show is open, it no longer belongs to me. It belongs to the actors and the audience. The play takes on a life of its own, and I'm no longer part of that life. It's like being dumped. The play moves on without me, and I move on the next play, which I'm already several weeks or months into the planning of. What I'm left with after opening is a strange sense of lethargy. Usually, 6 pm Monday rolls around, and I feel like there's somewhere I should be, something I should be doing. It usually passes in a few moments, but this goes on for several days.
There is also joy, however. To sit in the audience on opening night to see this event that you've worked so hard on finally makes it debut, and to watch these people to whom you've grown so close come into their own as artists, is a special feeling the likes of which cannot be described, only experienced. The familiar terror is also there, "Oh God, I hope this isn't awful!" And, of course, there is relief: we made it, it's good, and I can let go and not worry anymore.
So, do I look forward to opening night? You bet. Even though my involvment in the show all but ends, good theatre is never finished. It is always evolving; it is growing, changing, getting better with each passing performance. If I've done my job right, once opening night comes along, the cast and crew no longer need me. If I've done my job right, their artistry will take over. If I've done my job right, I'll be missed, but not needed.
"I bet you can't wait until opening night!"
Only a sucker would take that bet.
I get that a lot. In fact, it's one of the most common statements I hear from people when I'm working on a play, both as a director and an actor.
As an actor, opening night is like Christmas. There's an excitement that I can feel the moment I wake up that morning. There's a nervous tension in the pit of my stomach that makes it almost impossible to sit down longer than ten minutes at a stretch. (Which is hard enough for me to begin with.) The delicious anticipation as I enter the stage door and begin my pre-show routines. Dressing, stretching, vocal warm-ups, and on and on... I'm a very ritualistic actor when it comes to my pre-show prep. Everything done in the same order at the same time. It's not about superstition, it's about preparation. It's what I have to do to get myself physically and mentally ready for the show. Ultimately, it's all to distract myself from the terror in the back of my mind that I might, MIGHT, fail. I used to get so worked up before performances that I'd throw up before curtain every night. (Needless to say, toothpaste and a toothbrush were a part of my regular ritual, and still are even though the preceding problem is not.) Opening night is something that actors can't wait for, yet often approach with an almost unnatural fear. "Are we ready, or could we use another week?" (Actors always want another week.)
As a director, though, opening night is usually bittersweet. Here is this thing that has been a part of my life for sometimes over a year by the time you include the selection, analysis and research phase, and rehearsal process. For actors, opening night is the beginning, for the director, it is the end. Once the show is open, it no longer belongs to me. It belongs to the actors and the audience. The play takes on a life of its own, and I'm no longer part of that life. It's like being dumped. The play moves on without me, and I move on the next play, which I'm already several weeks or months into the planning of. What I'm left with after opening is a strange sense of lethargy. Usually, 6 pm Monday rolls around, and I feel like there's somewhere I should be, something I should be doing. It usually passes in a few moments, but this goes on for several days.
There is also joy, however. To sit in the audience on opening night to see this event that you've worked so hard on finally makes it debut, and to watch these people to whom you've grown so close come into their own as artists, is a special feeling the likes of which cannot be described, only experienced. The familiar terror is also there, "Oh God, I hope this isn't awful!" And, of course, there is relief: we made it, it's good, and I can let go and not worry anymore.
So, do I look forward to opening night? You bet. Even though my involvment in the show all but ends, good theatre is never finished. It is always evolving; it is growing, changing, getting better with each passing performance. If I've done my job right, once opening night comes along, the cast and crew no longer need me. If I've done my job right, their artistry will take over. If I've done my job right, I'll be missed, but not needed.
"I bet you can't wait until opening night!"
Only a sucker would take that bet.
Friday, August 6, 2010
A Brief Introduction
Oh no, not another blog! You can't make me read one more blog! What could this person have to say, that I don't already know?
Yes, yes, it's another blog. No, I can't make you read one more blog. But I can hope that we discover that there is still a lot of learning to do.
This blog is going to be about the La Crosse Community Theatre, a theatre that has been active for 46 seasons and hopes to continue for at least 46 more. LCT, much like every other theatre has had it's struggles, challenges, rewards, hopes, fears, dreams fulfilled and dashed. What is different is the arrival of a new executive director who comes aboard in an effort to guide and advise the theatre as it moves into a new half-century. There is talk of a new theatre, new organizational structures, new offerings, new ideas and new procedures. But in combination with the commitment and talents of experienced staff and volunteers there is no telling where LCT can go.
The hope is to produce a blog weekly written by the Executive Director or the Artistic Director. Each will present a perspective on current events and future projects. We will also include some education and/or advice on what is takes to create theatre, providing insight to the stage, the backstage and the front-of-house operations.
This is not meant to be a gossip column nor a lecture from the "experts." Rather it is hoped that this blog will be another avenue that leads to an understanding of the value of community theatre for the participants, the audience, and the region. If something is useful, that will be a bonus. If something offends, we apologize in advance, but we have learned that there is nothing you can do that won't offend someone.
If you would like to make comments, offer suggestions, ask some questions, or just be a part of the process, feel free. We too hope to learn a thing or along the way.
Until next week, yours in theatre.
David Kilpatrick Greg Parmeter
Executive Director Artistic Director
Yes, yes, it's another blog. No, I can't make you read one more blog. But I can hope that we discover that there is still a lot of learning to do.
This blog is going to be about the La Crosse Community Theatre, a theatre that has been active for 46 seasons and hopes to continue for at least 46 more. LCT, much like every other theatre has had it's struggles, challenges, rewards, hopes, fears, dreams fulfilled and dashed. What is different is the arrival of a new executive director who comes aboard in an effort to guide and advise the theatre as it moves into a new half-century. There is talk of a new theatre, new organizational structures, new offerings, new ideas and new procedures. But in combination with the commitment and talents of experienced staff and volunteers there is no telling where LCT can go.
The hope is to produce a blog weekly written by the Executive Director or the Artistic Director. Each will present a perspective on current events and future projects. We will also include some education and/or advice on what is takes to create theatre, providing insight to the stage, the backstage and the front-of-house operations.
This is not meant to be a gossip column nor a lecture from the "experts." Rather it is hoped that this blog will be another avenue that leads to an understanding of the value of community theatre for the participants, the audience, and the region. If something is useful, that will be a bonus. If something offends, we apologize in advance, but we have learned that there is nothing you can do that won't offend someone.
If you would like to make comments, offer suggestions, ask some questions, or just be a part of the process, feel free. We too hope to learn a thing or along the way.
Until next week, yours in theatre.
David Kilpatrick Greg Parmeter
Executive Director Artistic Director
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