Much ado about something

Team Blue,

The summer has come to an astronomical close; the trees hurriedly sip the nutrient-rich juices from their leaves, to be stored safely below ground; the humming molecules of water slow nearly to the point of frozen stillness. And notably, for our little town, the actors and staff of American Players Theatre have migrated to distant shores. Here one day, gone the next.

This season, many APT folks came to the barn, friends gained over many seasons and fresh new faces facing a fresh new place. I was inspired to support them, to see the physical and emotional reality that they, essentially unbeknownst to me, had been participating in, rehearsing, honing, in their time here. I have had the opportunity to create with them; I wanted a fuller picture of their creative act.

For the first time in my ten Spring Green seasons, I saw all of the plays. I told this to the assembled actors around a fire at a recent music night, and they naturally asked - which was the best?

My response: The Apprentice Project, tongue wryly hinting at cheek. It’s true, though, in a way: the framing device of the naive, otherworldly spirits with the clown noses, lingering in the metaphysical space between excerpts, was brilliant, and brilliantly done, each Apprentice player performing some version of themselves, true versions, representing distilled human relationship with experience. And the scenes were well done to boot, smartly done, interestingly chosen, well performed and well read. Bravo, Apprentices.

I cannot, of course, name a favorite among the rest. In lieu of attempted unidimensionality, I offer here my versions of truth, too late for you to act upon, but truths nonetheless:

Best Experience: The Virgin Queen Entertains Her Fool

The final play I saw of the season, on its closing night, and I was unexpectedly seated in the front row of the Touchstone Theater. Stage left, all the way left, along the used stairway. It was, to say the least, intimidating.

Every time a play begins, I wonder what, exactly, is stopping me from making a scene, from standing up and shouting and being disastrous. The answer, of course, is nothing, and that is a troubling answer. I feel the Call of the Void in the social realm, and so far have never heeded it. As the lights fell, then rose, and the show began with nothing between me and the performance, my heart leapt, my limbs tingled. I could rush the very stage! Nothing is in my way!

But I digress. I was seated in the front row, feet upon the very ground of the stage. What an experience. To look up at an actor, standing and speaking and striding, to have their very body mere feet away, to be actually in the room with physically present human beings, carefully and controlledly exhaling air into sound and syllable, as though this ostensible scene of human events, taking place in an ostensible room, is in fact taking place in said room, and I am, for some reason or another, permitted to sit in that room and observe, not from some spy’s remote vantage point, but from a chair along the wall, plainly visible, acknowledged with indifference.

This play, in particular, with Tracy’s Queen bringing us into her surrounding world of highly formalized relationships, where perhaps someone such as myself, of no import or potential for intrigue, would be allowed or required to sit at attention in the corner. It’s possible; it’s happening.

Tracy and Jimmy I have known as townsfolk from before I ever saw an APT show, moving here as I did in the fall. They are not distant humans to me, they live on a block and have children and lives and relationships; for that reason, I came to hear of them as great actors, so many people say, before I ever saw them in action, and so I have agreed upon seeing them perform over the years. And here, they are truly great. And did I mention, life size, in front of me, standing above me in the very room?

Josh and Nancy play the yins to others’ yangs and yangs to others’ yins, bringing rich performances of tightened restraint and wild wit, again, mere feet away from me, walking past me, footsteps audible upon the ground, clothing rustling in a turn. Incredible.

Thanks Alys for snagging the ticket.

The One I’ve Been Thinking About the Most: Constellations

This one is a doozy. The premise, as pre-interpreted by myself: perhaps the multiverse is real, perhaps all possible pasts have in fact happened, all presents have been arrived at, all futures will transpire, every small wrinkle in how the sentence is phrased or how the paper flutters or how the molecules attract is deserving of - demands - its own full reality. I can’t rule it out. We experience that in this play, as encounters restart on alternate branching paths, or we skip forward and backward and sideways into different shades of universal human experiences.

Casey, great. Newest Core Company member Phoebe, great. I was shaken, I was moved, I was transported to nights of my life that were hard or strange or wonderful and that deserve - demand - reflection.

Favorite Characters: Dancing at Lughnasa

That’s LIUE-nissa to you. The women in this play made me think of my mom, and my aunt, and my grandmother, and stories of my great grandmother. I loved to be with them, as they first encountered music from a radio, hearable right now, performed excitingly by skilled musicians, such a sound as you could never hear in all your days, barring your own collective ability to produce it. Joyful and sorrowful, resigned and optimistic, diligent and flighty, human throughout. Melancholic and nostalgic narration from Marcus sealed the deal.

The One Where I Nodded Off: King Lear

I’m sorry. I was coming off very little sleep when I got a last minute text message from Alys - do you want to come to King Lear opening night? I couldn’t say no. Bold and dramatic in the first half, and I missed a couple segments in the second half, but wow it was serious and intense up there. I just wasn’t up to the task that night. The single chair on stage is such a bold and stark move. It focused the action and the audience, lets the human and the word be the vessel. Powerful performances delivered with relish.

Most Impressive Acting: Wolf at the Door

This is an incredible performance, the most physical I’ve ever seen (though I am a philistine), highly choreographed and disciplined and lithe and bold. The portrayal of physical action, of physical agony, of childbirth, the heights of human experience gotten to night after night by these actors… it must be daunting and often draining. Well done, all. When Ron gets dragged across the stage by the wolf, I seriously thought there had to be some hi-jinx, that a rope had been tied around his foot and he was actually being dragged. I cannot move anything like any of that, at all.

Most Interesting: Ring Round the Moon

There are layers. Written in the 50s, about a receding aristocratic past half a century earlier, now to be read and heard and interpreted through we post-moderns in the year of our lord two thousand and twenty four. What does it mean to do this play now, and here, what does it mean to watch it, me, and you? How do we relate to that time period and its mores, to a world with more than a century of cultural evolution not yet transpired. Everyone is constrained, by circumstance, by position, by expectation or pan-mutual understanding. I did not know, walking in, a single thing about this play. Whether a comedy or tragedy or elsewise I knew not. I listened to the words, read the glances upon the faces, heard the tightly coiled precision of language in a highly structured society, and found no trace of mirth in anyone. These are serious circumstances in these peoples’ lives, buffetings that must be managed as best one can with vast realms of possibility cut off, without freedom of recourse or action. All are worried at best, and panicked at worst.

And yet… we chuckle? How does this happen? The language is intended, likely by the wright, and one must presume by the director and performers, to inspire laughter. Somehow, it works. It certainly helps that Nate comes striding through everyone’s lives, cacklingly spurring them on with pokes and prods, the one free human. To him, it is all worthy of laughter. Perhaps it was worthy of laughter to the wright? Did he - surely it was a he - intend us to identify with this character? When was this written, you say? Huh.

And what about today? How do we read this now? How was it read now by those who read it and said that APT should perform it? The fact of this performance is, now, an historical fact. I will remember this as a signpost of the ever unfolding future.

Best One to See as a Matinee: Much Ado About Nothing

I brought Nicholas, the Spring Green Musician in Residence, to a 10am student matinee showing of Much Ado. Definitely the only one that makes sense during the day - it is otherwise a very serious and often intense season. But this - this is a bright, and clear, and energized performance. I bet that it’s tough for the actors to get awake and warm and prepared to launch into that at 10am. Wacky and slapstick and fun throughout, though of course with its serious undertones at times. Seth’s singing was a nice treat. I was impressed with myself, and with the actors, and with APT as an institution, for how well I understood the language of the play. I followed along and thoroughly enjoyed myself!

The One I’m Most Glad Of: Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom

The one I saw twice - opening night and closing night. Ah, the singing. The camaraderie of the musicians. The complex, constrained lives unfolding before us. The flow of language, expertly delivered and inhabited. The most recent play, recently set at least - Constellations excepted, with its atemporal present. How has the world changed since this particular day in Chicago in the 20s? How has it remained the same? The people certainly aren’t the same - this is now fully and formally leaving living memory. Minerva across the road, age 100, would have been barely born at this moment, hardly conscious and certainly not yet a participant in the great skein of social life. This is the newest past, for an increasingly final minimum definition of where exactly the past begins. How have the slowly but unceasingly mutable notions of race and gender evolved since this time, for good or bad or naught? And what does it mean for American Players Theatre to produce it, for this largely white audience in this largely white place to experience it, for this largely black cast to perform it? I’m glad this play was done, and look forward to more bold and overdue moves from APT. Greta, it was a pleasure to meet you.

The One I Haven’t Seen Yet: Nat Turner in Jerusalem

The final play of the season, set to open October 17. Can’t wait!

________

For me, though, the performances of the season were to be found in the barn. On many Sundays and Mondays, planned or serendipitous, throughout the season, actors and members of American Players Theatre found themselves in the barn, boarding The Ark. I would like to thank you, each and every one, for making this season all that it was - I hope I don’t forget anyone.

Thank you Seth, oh reliable participant, who went from an incredulous “What do you mean, go to a barn in Wisconsin?!” to a perhaps-over-the-top “The barn saved my life this year”. Your guitar style is irreplacable. “Still Itching” hit me square in the heart.

Thank you Sydney, who summoned up the courage to participate, found her voice, and made sure to hype up every barn night. I’m sorry I couldn’t turn down the heat on the hottest night of the year.

Thank you Nathan, whose quick wit and soul pour forth relentlessly, who plucked from the barn’s very air the words of the soul of the place - “come to the barn”, “I want to know about you”, and many more. An instant composer par excellence.

Thank you Ron, oh stalwart bass player, who complicates my claim that “all you need to do is play the E on the One” by showing how much more is possible. Thank you for lending the bass to the barn all season.

Thank you Phoebe, whose ethereal vocalizations and loving presence will always be welcome. I look forward to many more years of playing music together.

Thank you Bryant, who couldn’t help but describe the barn to others with the word “we”, to my eternal delight, and whose drum skills showed no sign of rust.

Thank you Rassell, whose vocal flow is unmatched in the Greater Spring Green Metropolitan Area, and who took a chance playing with a live drummer for the first time.

Thank you Em and Maggie and Elisabeth and Harrison and Molly and Erin, who rehearsed for the 45th anniversary performance and returned and returned.

Thank you Matthew, who arrived mid-composition of “Come to the Barn” and provided the crucial counterpoint to the exhortation to participate - “I’m here to observe”. It is now part of the lexicon, to the relief of many.

Thank you Maddie, who laid down the bass for the barn’s theme song.

Thank you Tyler, who can play everything, including the drums, better than I, to my delight.

Thank you Pepin, Aaron, Dee Dee, Colleen, Sam, Melisa, Lester, Marcus, Triney, Mhari, Madelyn, Hollis, Grace, Colin, and all others that I cannot at this moment recall, who came to the barn to observe.

And, of course, thank you Alys, who vouched for the barn to an understandably skeptical audience, brought the energy and enthusiasm and open-hearted welcome that the barn will re-reflect ad infinitum, and who remains the greatest singer I have ever had the pleasure of playing with. I’m glad you are here, year round, and I can’t wait to record some music.

APT Folks - you are always welcome in the barn. If you are returning for another season, I look forward to seeing you again. If this is your one and only time at American Players Theatre, I invite you to return as a private citizen. If you’re passing back this way, I’m not too hard to find. I think Bob Dylan said that.

Play On,

Twin Crix