Based on a true story (once upon a time) 08/10/2012 7:12pm

Editorial

Is This Theater Taken? My favorite television show of all time is LOST. I could watch endless episodes in a row with new clues providing more questions than answers. After season one I began to learn the rhythm, flow, and structure of each installment; each week 43 actual minutes of show, three commercial breaks, followed by a 30sec teaser from next week. I memorized these givens, but watched with my eyes glued as if the story could stretch, commercials would disappear, and the teaser lasted a lifetime. The storytellers had my soul in their hands. The Fringe provides a similar experience for hardcore participants that catch as many shows as possible in these two weeks. After watching more than three slots you know the form, you feel the pressure to stay interested, and you sense the creators’ stress of providing 50 full minutes of excitement. On Aug 2 I felt hungry to see anything- the Fringe was just kicking off for another great festival and me ready for the ride. By Aug 10 I feel like it is season six and I still want to by fed, lifted, and surprised like the first time. The pressure is building with each new show – I’m hoping I have enough energy to make it to the final episodes on Aug 12. I was tired on Aug 8th by the 10pm slot at Brave New Workshop, but The Newton Theatre’s production of Two Dead Boys refused to let me sit back like a seasoned pro. Based on a nonsensical limerick poem about two boys waking up to fight in a battle to the death, Tyler Mills’ script uses heightened text and stage combat to weave this mysterious tale. Every moment of this piece shines with the electric energy created by the three person cast of MJ Marsh, Matthew Pitner and Joe Rapp. By the end I was hoping for a 30sec teaser for their next production. The play opens with two brothers Chadrich and Gilgamesh (Marsh, Pitner) waking in a world between death and judgment where their battle has just begun. Soon they are joined my Mopsus (Rapp), a blind man who teaches the rules of the throne as he drops swords and historical clues to aid each brother. In a stream of status shifts, the throne in the background grows like a sleeping giant threatening to crush them all if they fail to win the seat. The stage combat is visually captivating and collaborates with the language to build a world of danger and corruption set somewhere in a distant kingdom. The moment where this piece transcended into a larger theme of connectedness was near the end when the entire audience participated in a vocal chant. Here two actors wandered through a lit auditorium asking members to touch the actors and sing together to close this ritual we had all created. As I looked around the room I was emotionally moved by the togetherness I felt in a room of strangers sharing a beautiful moment of theatre. The risk of asking for audience participation is always high due to sturdy fourth walls- but this Wednesday night audience was unphased. The chant gave me hope that we can all come together to share in the ritual of storytelling despite our seeming differences. This city, like others, can seem like a high school cafeteria filled with wonderful artists and institutions holding claim to their own pocket groups. You might know the people from each place, but feeling like one community seems impossible. As a participant the questions can grow: Should you grab a seat with the kids from The Unit Collective or Swandive? Do the kids at the HUGE Theatre table throw food at Brave New Workshop? Can someone jump from the Playwright’s Center to Live Action Set without getting their tray knocked? Who are the Mean Girls? The Fringe, for me, erases these groups as each venue houses numerous artists that represent countless institutions from around this city in one artistic event. There are no LORT letters, Equity membership cards, or educational requirements separating each piece. You are free to participate, watch, and write for however many shows you can cram into your life; table-hopping is encouraged and everyone says hello when they pass you in the hallways. We are brought together for a moment outside of the many isolating auditions, callbacks, and opening night receptions of the regular theatre season. We see one another in the lit auditoriums and recognize the faces we might have seen before, or maybe not for a while, and when the lights go down we are all together for a shared 50 minutes of theatre. Just Between You and Me: I am worried two act plays will seem unnecessarily long after these two weeks.
Headshot of Ricardo Vazquez
Ricardo Vazquez
Based on a true story (once upon a time): As a classically trained actor I learned to study history as a template for dramatic action, character behavior and language with no room to deviate from the aesthetics of a given period. But, as a writer, free of any training, I find historical moments the most rich to draw from because they provide an outline for an event leaving the means of storytelling to the writer to recreate. What goes into a memory? What tools do we need to convey the past- presently- within the fast changing aesthetics of theater?