Monday, September 29, 2008

Behind-the-Scenes Look at "The Lieutenant of Inishmore"

On the 22nd of September, I travelled to Boston for the first time in my life. I came to undertake the difficult task of lifecasting three actors, one after the other, and flying back to Pittsburgh in a single day.

Lifecasting is the process of taking an impression of a person’s flesh (face, hands, or some other body part) and creating a duplicate of them in a synthetic medium. I collected three lifecasts of the actors who play the members of the Splinter Group in New Rep’s production of The Lieutenant of Inishmore.

The Lieutenant of Inishmore has many strenuous special effects demands, and one of the more time consuming ones is the lifecasts of these three heads. The lifecast starts by applying a rubber compound called alginate to the actor’s faces. The rubber is reinforced with a jacket of plaster bandages, which is applied on top of the alginate while it is still on the actor’s face. The aligante and plaster bandages are removed from the actor’s face and the result is a negative impression of the face.

The negative area is filled with several layers of plaster and allowed to cure. The cured plaster cast is removed from the alginate and the result is a positive impression of the actor’s face.

More steps occur before a finished head is produced; but this is all I needed to take back to Pittsburgh with me, and was all I could fit in my carry on luggage. The rest of the work will happen back at my shop. Finished heads of these actors (on a lifecast body) will appear in the show, which runs October 26 to November 16, 2008.

-Steven Tolin, September 25, 2008



l. to r. Curt Klump (Joey/James) and Steven Tolin (Special Effects)


l. to r. Steven Tolin (Special Effects) and Andrew Dufresne (Christy)



l. to r. Ross MacDonald (Brendan) and Steven Tolin (Special Effects)

An alginate negative impression of Andrew Dufresne's (Christy) face


l. to r. A cured plaster cast of Curt Klump's (Joey/James) face and Steven Tolin (Special Effects)

Friday, September 19, 2008

Recipe for a Work of Art

EURYDICE isn’t theatre. It’s more than theatre. It’s a work of art. Which, I submit, is different than art. All theatre is art. But to qualify as a work... well, there are different criteria for works. Works have to transcend their media. Works have to be more than the sum total of their parts. Works have to be immediate and eternal in the same breath, which blows directly into the soul. It’s hard work to be a work.

I have never been involved with theatre like this. When I first read EURYDICE, my heart stopped beating a few times and I cried. When I first read it, that is. “What a sap!” Oh, no, that’s never happened before. Never. Then, at the audition, I had no nerves. None. Zero. That’s never happened before. When I met my co-star on the first day of rehearsal, my heart stood up and said, “Yes.” Strange feeling to have your heart stand up and talk.

I’m sorry I’m not being straightforward here, but working on this play has inspired me to poetry. No, seriously, ask my parents. They’ll say: “How’s the play going?” “Unbelievable! It’s stirring so much in my soul. I’m feeling a profound connection to my true self and the universe as I explore the embodiment of Love.” “Oh. So... it’s going well, then?”

It must be annoying.

But that’s the effect that a Work of Art can have. It can make you write poetry. It can suggest you call your first love to apologize. It can help you understand what “unconditional” truly means, and then help you feel it the next time you hug your family. I feel so blessed to be involved in a work with the ability to go out into the audience’s hearts and play their strings.

And so, without further ado, this is the Recipe for a Work of Art, as I have come to understand it (Rachel Ray didn’t have one, so I put this one together myself. There’s still something missing in the sauce, but it’s pretty dang close):

Take –
a Play
a Poem
a Painting
a Dance
a Symphony
a Love Letter
a Confession
an Apology
and a Discertation,

Put them in a rehearsal hall for 3 weeks and stir them with a Brilliant Director, Loving Actors, Playful Designers, and a Devoted Production Team,

Transfer them to a stage, add an Open-Hearted Audience, and allow to Rise.

Enjoy!


By Brian Bielawski

Monday, September 15, 2008

Riffing on Eurydice

eurydice loves orpheus the demi-god, who is offering her the entire world. is it possible, she's thinking? can it be? HOW can it be? what about her father? what about everything she's never done? is there something else she needs to do first? when will she be ready?

eurydice loves her father. he's dead- but unresolvedly so -not quite laid to rest, which will be clear when he reappears in her life via--

a thoroughly unexpected source -- the nasty, in-ter-est-ing man. hm. options personified.

eurydice loves to know. what is behind door number 1? 2? 3! wait, what about 1? take me back to 1!

the nasty, in-ter-est-ing man is glamour, quickness, facility, intelligence, and all ploy. he is archetypically predatory. he may or may not also be the Lord of the Underworld (complete with death-metal theme music and a tryke-zilla by the way) and may or may not devour eurydice for the sheer sake of domination.

eurydice walks a tightrope. she descends. there is a fall. (capitalize that if you like - it certainly appears in countless creation stories.)

in the original story of orpheus and eurydice (this was ovid's poem, i think), eurydice was an almost unconscious girl-siren being pursued and attacked/wanted by a man who she turns to flee from. as she turned she was bitten (ah, into? tasted?) by a serpent and taken down into hades, where she would have to wait till her lover descended after her with song in order to gain her freedom.

oh, holy imagery. the need to know, the desire to question, love of life, beauty, and the allure of the forbidden. "serpent", depending on your spiritual study, has value ranging from connotation associated to the serpent in the garden of eden all the way to a native american (also celtic/druidic) symbolism representing wisdom and infinity. talk about an oceanic drop-off here. what is sexuality? what is sensuality? when (and how) does love switch allegience from (as Sarah Ruhl has chosen to explore her own affinity to the eurydice archetype) love of the father to love of the husband? what is the nature of responsibility and decision-making? when is faith in the promise more important than contractual details? getting thicker, which comes first? faith in the thing that makes the thing real, or the reality of the proposal that will grow the faith of love?

dear Sarah, i playfully disagree with rick lombardo, you are not a genius, but dear Sarah, i totally agree with rick lombardo: your linking of string theory, "reality", and questions about the nature of the world around us to the simple and heart-plucking question of "do you love me this much, really?" is genius in its reach and profound in its simplicity. it echoes. i should be paying you for advancing my own knowledge of myself through this work.

in our version, Sarah writes eurydice as the one who calls out to orpheus on their ascent out of hades. this is a completely different dynamic than was introduced with the original myth. in the first telling, orpheus needs to be sure eurydice is behind him on the long walk out of hades. he turns and she falls away. in another telling, he is consumed by jealousy and wants to be sure she hasn't "known" anyone else. he turns to gauge her. she falls. rather passively. (i'd like to write about this another time... when i can feel it out a little more onstage.) for now though, these are iconic lovers --- baby, i will cross death for you!/yes, i know you will, do it for me!--- and so somewhere out there is also the version (operatic- 1 out of some 100 of them) that re-imagines the two star-crossed lovers as raised together into the heavens for a final, triumphant movement.

star-crossed lovers. hmm, we've got some romeo + juliet in here too, which is appropriate, given that at the top of the show Sarah's stage directions indicate orpheus and eurydice should be almost "too much in love" - that the actors should stay away from playing them classically. so, in comes youth, zealousness, emergence, fantasy, first flush, temperament, a little bit of selfishness (after all, the world is still about "me" at this point) and intense, unabashed desire, all which serve to raise new questions about love and what it is when it is so young that it can only see its projections and not what it itself is.

eurydice and orpheus grow up and eventually grow together with this transition through the descent/death cycle. they start with the whole shebang, everything they have ever wanted, but are unable to speak or communicate their whole selves directly to one another. they lose one another. then begins the journey of going it alone, sifting through shadows, and repiecing themselves. each must move through a hero's journey(yes, carl jung is in here too)which sets the stage for their perceptions and expectations about how love is and what love is to shift. do they though? can they? what if love is indivisible from all the things about love that make it so painful?

this version is descended from a greek myth and theatre history class teaches us that all greek myths feature tragic flaws in their heroes and heroines as teaching devices. the concept of tragic flaw raises new question. yes, it is overwhelmingly sad that eurydice is uncertain that the sun, moon and stars are really being offered to her. her response to her fear about love and being loved is to question but, limited by her youth and inexperience. she manages to ask only the tip of the iceberg. this girl-woman wants to know that her demi-god lover wants her, really and truly her. underneath the "what are you thinking about?" questions is a great need for reassurance that she is indeed worthy of this kind of love, from this kind of a dream man. she needs to know that orpheus is real as much as she needs to know that her father is really dead.

orpheus, who can not hear her need for reassurance clearly enough to address it directly, is the other side of the too-young vision of love when he is unable to speak to her need because he does not even recognize the possibility/actuality of doubt in love. to him, what is beautiful is only and simply beautiful. things are not more lovely when they are considered, only more removed from their original form. he ends up turning the spotlight onto the framework and structure of her thinking, and here is where- tragically - they both utterly miss the point even as they experience being exquisitely and soul-fully in love with one another.

it k i l l s me.

dear Sarah Ruhl, why couldn't you have just had eurydice say "orpheus? i love you more than anything that has every been or will be. it is hard to believe that you love me this way too, so every once in awhile when you are composing your endless overtures and knocking out your most-beautiful-songs-in-the-universe, will you just remind me that i am a part of that, that my being here at your side and saying yes, i'll be your wife somehow makes all of that even better? please?

and orpheus will say "baby, ohhh baby, my sweet baby... you're the One..."

--

please come see this play. the literary, poetic, comedic, historic, visionary voice that Sarah Ruhl has tapped into is one of the most exciting i have ever experienced.

by Zillah Glory