German Theatre Lessons Continued:

Lesson #5: No pre-show music.

Lesson #6: Also no pre-show announcement. A simple sound cue of a cellphone ringing will suffice. (Note the especially enjoyable payoff of "PLEASE TURN OFF YOUR CELL PHONES" as part of the super titles in Hamlet @ Shaubühne, but it wasn't up there at the top of the show. They displayed it at the point when the actors were performing the play-within-the-play. Ah comedy.)

Lesson #7: Weather in the theatre does not appear to be in the kind of extremes we seem to experience in the U.S. So bring a jacket for the walk home (even in summer) (furthermore, if you don't want to carry a jacket, then stop at a restaurant on the way home-- everyone provides blankets, usually of an IKEA fashion, for their customers while they sit and enjoy a post show currywurst and bier; it's greatly appreciated), but you'll be fine during the show since temperatures will be civilized and pleasant.

Lesson #8: Wear your seatbelt. In this first week alone I have seen the absolute best and absolute worst theatre of my life. Truly. The extraordinary passion and focused commitment and joyful risk and talented artistry and exceptional variety going on here are of a caliber that, frankly, I've always hoped existed but never really believed was possibly contained all in one city. Granted, the Elektra we saw tonight was practically an inexpiable crime, but we still got a great deal of entertainment from it and it was wildly different than the theatre I am used to, so I learned just a bit more about my chosen profession and it's possibilities and failures. Plus, a majority of our last five shows have been breathtaking and heartbreaking and awe-inspiring. Especially Hamlet. We could see nothing but crap-theatre for the next two weeks (although I KNOW we won't) and I would return to the states a delighted person because I got to see this magnificent Ostermeier production. I mean it. It changed me forever. It was the show that I sit down hoping to see every time I go to the theatre. It was my personal holy grail of shows. Alright I'll admit that it didn't have The Spanish Fly's midget ceaselessly attempting to jump up on top of a roll of the pushed-up stage-sized magic carpet, then slowly sliding down into an emotionless heap at the bottom... thank goodness it was a farce because we went past the point of uncontrollable laughter to the land of embarrassing gasping noises and squeals... I can barely type this I'm still laughing so hard at this joke that could have gone on for hours and still have gotten funnier and funnier... this delightful little person had a wig as high as her entire body was tall-- her wig went up to the same height the other women's wigs did... Oh comedy... Oh comedy... Yes. Back to Hamlet. Okay. I've never been so overwhelmed by such a sensitive yet unapologetic performance, by the thorough immediacy of an entire show, by the unparalleled ability of a director and his lead actor to be both so in tune with their audience, by storytelling so adeptly to walk the line between perfect oration and perfect improvisation; it was raw and dangerous and hilarious and clear and moving. What a gift theatre can be.

Lesson #9: Seriously. Wear your seatbelt. This was only the first week...

Things You Shouldn't Do When Producing a Show

Courtesy of the production of Electra that we saw today.

And some of it may sound like the obvious, and they are, but...I can't. Hands down the worst performance I have ever seen. Ever. Of anything. I don't even know how you could put something like this out there. Heck, I still don't even know what I watched. What were they even trying to say?

It was that bad.

• Dumb video sequences with slideshows of poorly done photoshop work. Nothing makes me cringe like bad use of multimedia.
• Inefficient stage design

(This was the closest thing I could find to a good picture of a bad set)

• Tacky prom dresses as costumes
• Overkill on the sequences...no, just no. Otherwise people will be blinded by your boobs (which was the case here)
• Poofy skirts + suit jackets = what?
• As much as costumes should be designed with the intention to symbolize something, they got to be efficient. The actors should be able to move through the stage with ease, not have to watch their step every time. Or just...move awkwardly.
• Getting "naked" for no purpose
• Yelling...and yelling...and more yelling...and hitting yourself against a wall just for the sake of doing it...and yelling...and shaking things...and yelling
• Breaking into songs that do not even connect with the play

I (and everyone else) could go on and on about what went wrong. This is just touching the surface (and a lot of it is something you kind of have to be there to understand how bad it was). I'm really surprised that this got good reviews--it seemed as though everyone in the audience could not get past what was wrong with this production.

The one thing I got from Elektra: a list things not to do for Cabaret Theatre's Directors' Showcase. Goes to show that you can still get something out of bad theater.

Week 1 - Lessons in (Foreign) Theater

Lesson #1 -  Do not allow yourself to be frustrated by your lack of understanding. Every show this week, I've felt a small amount of frustration and anger at my inability to understand basic plot lines or jokes. There is nothing worse than sitting in a room full of people, listening to their laughter, and being completely lost. It felt as if I was the joke. It is very easy to fester that anger and ruin your night by just being angry. Do not simmer. Do not think too hard. (But don't zone out and not think at all!) Just enjoy.

Lesson # 2 - Having an open mind is key to your experience. Do not close yourself off (or even doze off). Just because something is different (Riese! Riese! or even Die (S)panische Fliege) there will always be something of value you can take away. Whether it comes to appreciating the immense control an actor may have over their body or the aesthetics. Throw away all previous constructs of theater that you've ever had. Again, just enjoy.

Lesson #3 -  Curtain calls are long. Get used to it. Bring some lotion.

Lesson #4 - Pick up some German. Ditto.

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All in all, I have been exposed to different styles of theater that I doubt I could experience in the United States (like a book I would have never picked up on my own). What excites me the most is the energy I see on stage from certain actors. Even if I cannot understand a single word of what you are saying, I can feel your energy and emotions. This was a bit more difficult with the Threepenny Opera when everything was much more stylized; the show felt less focused on the acting and more focused on physical movement/gestures and delivery of the line.

Although each show, aesthetically, has blown my mind. The way Riese! Riese! utilized the depth of the room and projections along the walls. Threepenny Opera, because of the silhouettes, played tricks on my mind; there were moments when I thought I was looking at a 2D image, a picture, instead of live theater. Ostermeier's Hamlet. How do I even begin to describe it? No words. Just awe. And finally Die (S)panische Fliege, I enjoyed their use of the deep stage, the trampoline, and the insane optical illusion the jammed carpet created (#littlepeople).

It makes me frustrated to think that none of these wonderful things could be possible in the United States. Whether it be financial problems, or Union problems, I constantly think about the possibility. Right now, my instinct as a stage manager tells me: a solid N-O. But I hope that may change in the next two weeks.

The Berlin Experience So Far

I love Berlin--I really do. There is no need to rush anything; there is this sense of quietness that is almost suburban, but it is still a city; and...I don't know...there is this "coziness" that envelops the city that you just don't get in New Brunswick or in New York City. Despite everything that Berlin is, I am a bit homesick.

But hey, compared to where I was the second day here, it's getting better. I'm finally able to say that I am confident in navigating my way through Berlin without Google Maps. Or find some pretty good places to eat without having Yelp readily available.

And I finally had spaghetti eis. Big win on the foodie side.

_________

I am so jealous of how the arts are so much more respected in Europe than in the U.S. in every way possible. What probably stuck out to me the most though was how present the audience was during the performance. Whether they enjoyed a show or not is a different story, but at least they where physically, mentally, and emotionally present.

Of the three shows we've seen, I've only seen one person take out their cellphone in the middle of the show (not for the sake of checking the time).

Do you know how many people I see take out their phones in the middle of a show back home? Or how many times people have complained about things like the duration of a show and then just completely block themselves from at least taking in what is being given to us? I don't remember a time in which I did not see or hear these things happening in the middle of a performance and not want to punch another audience member in the face. 

And in terms of age, the audiences here are a lot more diverse than back home. It's not just the elderly coming in and seeing these performances. There are people (around) my age who are willingly coming to see these productions that aren't for the sake of seeing a certain famous actor, or because a friend was in the production, some other reason like that. They are coming to sincerely experience something. Whereas back home, it is such a struggle to try and get my friends to come with me to see anything. It's gotten to a point in which I just do it for formality's sake--I already know they are just going to say no.

I'm actually afraid about the future of theater in the United States. There is this growing sense of apathy towards theater. I see it in my friends. I see it in high school and middle school students...or just in our education system in general. I really saw it during Theater Appreciation.

It's going to take a lot of things to change the public's attitude towards theater. One side of me thinks it is possible. Another side thinks we're just fighting something we might never win just because of the history theater has within the U.S.

Ich liebe dich, Berlin.

It's been a little over a week since I arrived in Berlin, and already it begins to feel like home, even though my German skills are iffy at best. I've had multiple conversations with complete strangers, who, when their attempts to start conversation in German are flouted by my "Entschuldigung, ich verstehe nur ein bisschen Deutsch" (sorry, I only understand a little German), are unfazed and proceed to meet me in the middle as much as possible, so that our conversation becomes a muddle of English and very broken German.

Our first show on Montag Abend, Reise! Reiser!, was like, as Christopher had warned us, being thrown in the deep end. For me, it began with the man next to whom I sat down, who began speaking to me in very fast German. When I offered my usual phrase (it's becoming a theme, I say it at least once a day and usually more here), he asked me what other language I spoke and switched to perfect English, then proceeded to offer to translate anything I needed. While I didn't take him up on the offer for various reasons, I am continually struck by the number of times complete strangers go out of their way to make conversation or help me. There was this gentleman at Reise! Reiser!, as well as Thomas who was managing front of house, a custodian who started chatting with me in the elevator, the man seated behind me in Berliner Ensemble who clearly wanted to tell me something about the architecture of the theater (the only one who, when I said I wasn't fluent in German, proceeded to effectively end all communication- and I desperately wanted to know what he said!), and the woman who sat down next to me on the train who, when I repeated the usual, immediately lit up and asked me (in German) if I spoke Russian (and then proceeded to talk to me in German and a little English when I said no). And then, of course, there's the lovely Andrea, who gave us cake on her birthday to welcome us to Berlin in Claerchen Ballhaus at our first dinner as a group.

I joke about how my parents may lose me to Berlin for good, but between the people, the beautiful city, and the fact that shows here are fantastic AND play to sold out or nearly sold out houses as a general rule and the city's budget to support theater each year is multiple hundreds of millions of Euros... I may not be kidding after all. But I have to learn more German first...

The view of the city from our window

First Impressions

Day 1 Berlin, Germany

Generosity around every corner.

The lady in red, the birthday woman, and the most wonderful spirit to welcome us to Berlin,

Andrea.

Day 2 Berliner Theaterdiscounter

Frustrations of the language barrier.

CLAVIGO CLAVIGO CLAVIGO CLAVIGO CLAVIGO!

In the late summer of last year, or perhaps it was the early autumn . . .

At Mason Gross School for the Performing Arts time warps and wanders in all the emotional, physical and intellectual activity.  In my two years there, I seem to be best able to mark the days by the mean temperature in Walters Hall.  If it is teeth-chatteringly cold, it must be late August or early September.  October and November are muggy.  December and January are by turns toasty and nippy.  February and March are suffocatingly tropical.  And April is the cruelest Month.  

I can’t actually remember when it was that Barbara Marchant (co-chair of the Theater Department) first and then Casey Coakley (Dean of Students) mentioned to me that the Rutgers global studies program was looking for someone from the theater department who would be interested in leading a group of students to Paris.  

Yes. I was interested in taking my Global Theatre class global. Yes. Getting on the road.  Why not start in Paris?  We'll always have Paris. Writing up the proposal was a easy.  I was quick to recruit Beth Clancy, a respected designer and cracker-jack research scholar who teaches an innovative core class to first year actors — Culture and Clothing.  The class is an examination of the history, psychology, fashion and art.  What better co-conspirator for Paris?  Theatricality and Fashion in the City of Lights.  Oui. The syllabus fairly wrote itself.  My scholarly wheelhouse was spinning.

It became quickly clear that ambition might outstrip reality.  Beth’s schedule, as professional and parent, was tight.  The Paris theatre season trickles to an almost stop during the summer months.  The expenses were looking to be great and some of the contacts in France were proving to be problematic.

What to do?  There are even better theatre cities.  London (but we’ve got that covered with our program at Shakespeare’s Globe), Dublin,  Prague, Saõ Paulo . . .

Berlin.  Yes.  Berlin is hip.  Berlin is happening.  Yes. The director Thomas Ostermeier whose work I admire works out of Berlin.  Berlin is cheap . . . cheaper.  Berlin has a great theatre scene — past and present.   I’ve spent a lot of time recently in Germany. Ja.

So Berlin replaces Paris.  The theater of Molière, Voltaire, Dumas and Beckett replaced by Goethe, Schiller, Brecht and Shakespeare.  More about Willy and the Germans later.

It’s taken over four months to plan — with invaluable help from Enrico Picelli and Giorgio DiMauro.  But we are now days away from our trip.  One professor.  Ten students.  Three weeks.  Fourteen performances.  One workshop.   Museums, palaces, gardens, stages, streets and shops yet to be counted.

It’s now getting colder in Walters Hall as the air-conditioning gets cranked to high and summer shirts have to be covered with sweaters.  It must be May, so we are headed to the Grey City.

Alles, was uns begegnet, läßt Spuren zurück. Alles trägt unmerklich zu unserer Bildung bei. — J.W. von Goethe

This is happening.