Buffets are very straightforward. Some restaurants have them as an option, if this is the case, you can bet your server will point out this option and try to sell it to you. My previous restaurant ran a breakfast buffet; we severs loved it, because it cost $20 and all we had to do was pour endless cups of coffee and drop a check.
Sometimes a restaurant will only have a buffet. This is the case at 67 in the Edgewater Hotel, after you are seated the server will tell you that the buffet is all they are serving. He will bring you a mimosa and direct you to help yourself to the piles of fruit and shellfish and eggs benedict.
Sometimes you have to be given a plate before you can go to the buffet, but even if the plates are part of the layout, if you are in a restaurant, you always have to be given permission.
Hotels are ruining this concept.
So many of them offer "complimentary" breakfast these days. Often it is a "continental" breakfast, i.e. muffins and mushy apples, but the practice runs so rampant that many people seem to think "continental" and "complimentary" are synonyms. These strange little affairs are laid out in the lobby, or in a dining room, at a particular time, and you don't need a plate to go help yourself to donuts and coffee, you don't need permission, you only need to be staying in the hotel.
This puts hotel restaurants in an awkward position. I've worked in two of them now, my first in a big downtown hotel, my current one in a smaller neighborhood location, but they are both independently owned. Guests can charge meals to their rooms, but that's about it. Many guest's don't understand this, especially before their first cup of coffee."
"What is included with my room?" was a question I got asked frequently, when I worked downtown. The answer was "nothing". There is no way to phrase this so it sounds less like nothing. When people asked my other favorite question; "What comes with the pancakes?" I could at least smile sweetly and say "butter and syrup". Then I would encourage them to order a side of bacon, which is what they were hoping to get for free.
They would try to get the buffet for free too. The restaurant didn't help matters by having two different price levels for the buffet; the all inclusive "All American", and the, yes, "Continental" option, for those who only wanted to graze among the fruit, pastries, and cold cereal. Many people did just fine with this concept, but there were others to whom the phrase "continental buffet" meant one of two things.
1. It's free with my room!
2. I can order the lower priced buffet and then sneak a bunch of bacon and no one will notice!
I doubt you'll find it surprising that I do not miss working in a hotel restaurant with a buffet. My current location serves food only if ordered off the menu, which is wonderful, because most people, when ordering food off a menu, realize they are expected to pay for it. We do, however, have a beverage station set up in view of the guests. There is no food on this station, it is only a collection of different kinds of cups and glasses, coffee pots, hot water for tea, and an ice bucket filled with juices and coffee creamer. It is right next to the computer, and a pile of menus, but still, every day someone will make for it saying "how does this work?" or, "Do we just help ourselves?"
We added a sign to the wall above the beverage station, the sign says "employees only". It is on blue paper and it taped to an orange wall, so its very hard to miss, but people still got confused.
A few days ago we added a folding screen that partially blocked the view of the station. Things seem to have gotten better, but then today I came back from collecting silverware to find a Couple happily pouring themselves orange juice and taking napkins from the loose pile I was in the middle of folding. Even after I'd directed them to a table, taken their order and brought the lady a cup of coffee, she got up and went back to the station saying, "I help myself to the juice, right?"
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
The Double Standard
It's not easy being a girl.
Last weekend, I had the very great honor of sharing the stage with sixteen other actresses. Being a part of The Vagina Monologues was amazing and important not only because of the subject matter, but because it is one of the few regularly produced plays in that can cast more than four women at once.
Last weekend the massive all female cast crammed into Renton Civic's two tiny dressing rooms, shared stories, told dirty jokes, curled our hair, commented on the audiance's reaction, and fought for chairs. We had a great time, we put on three great shows, there was a lot of love, and laughter, and a few differnet generations. Women, it turns out have a lot to learn from acting together, it's a pity we don't do it more often.
The last time I performed at Renton Civic I shared that same dressing room with just three other women. Of the four of us only two had parts with names. Across the hall there were five men jostling for mirror space, only one was a chorus member.
The play before that I shared a dressing room with just one other woman. We luxuriated in the space, while four men crowded into the other dressing room.
It's a common phenomena. I see cast break downs all the time when heading into auditions: 4M 2W, 6M 2W, 5M 4W, 10M 1W. There is rarely a play with more than one part for a woman my age, rarely a play where they don't need more men than women. I have been in one. A few summers ago I was in a play with twelve other women and only one man. It was a great experience, but then again, I co-wrote and produced it. I have tried my best to help right the imbalance that exists in the theater today, and I am not alone in my fight. There are companies dedicated to producing plays by women, for women, and featuring predominantly female casts. There are productions like The Vagina Monologues. Productions that celebrate womanhood.
I would just like to see more productions that celebrate great actresses. Because the worst of it is, while the balance of male to female roles is out of joint in one direction, the balance of male to female talent is out of joint in exactly the opposite. I have nothing against the actors in this town, most of them are very good. But it is a whole lot easier for the good ones to get cast; if you're talented and male, you'll get good parts, if you can walk and talk at the same time while hinting at a basic emotion, and are male, you'll get the left over parts. While on the other side of the spectrum, talented actresses compete with other talented actresses for the few available roles.
I won't say it's not fair, so little in life is that it really doesn't bare repeating. But it is problem. A problem that I am not alone in recognizing, or working to remedy. So in the meantime, I'll just have to treasure the moments I do have, take the parts I'm lucky enough to land, and keep writing those plays with giant female casts in the hope that someone will produce one someday.
Its not easy being a girl, but that doesn't make it any less wonderful.
Last weekend, I had the very great honor of sharing the stage with sixteen other actresses. Being a part of The Vagina Monologues was amazing and important not only because of the subject matter, but because it is one of the few regularly produced plays in that can cast more than four women at once.
Last weekend the massive all female cast crammed into Renton Civic's two tiny dressing rooms, shared stories, told dirty jokes, curled our hair, commented on the audiance's reaction, and fought for chairs. We had a great time, we put on three great shows, there was a lot of love, and laughter, and a few differnet generations. Women, it turns out have a lot to learn from acting together, it's a pity we don't do it more often.
The last time I performed at Renton Civic I shared that same dressing room with just three other women. Of the four of us only two had parts with names. Across the hall there were five men jostling for mirror space, only one was a chorus member.
The play before that I shared a dressing room with just one other woman. We luxuriated in the space, while four men crowded into the other dressing room.
It's a common phenomena. I see cast break downs all the time when heading into auditions: 4M 2W, 6M 2W, 5M 4W, 10M 1W. There is rarely a play with more than one part for a woman my age, rarely a play where they don't need more men than women. I have been in one. A few summers ago I was in a play with twelve other women and only one man. It was a great experience, but then again, I co-wrote and produced it. I have tried my best to help right the imbalance that exists in the theater today, and I am not alone in my fight. There are companies dedicated to producing plays by women, for women, and featuring predominantly female casts. There are productions like The Vagina Monologues. Productions that celebrate womanhood.
I would just like to see more productions that celebrate great actresses. Because the worst of it is, while the balance of male to female roles is out of joint in one direction, the balance of male to female talent is out of joint in exactly the opposite. I have nothing against the actors in this town, most of them are very good. But it is a whole lot easier for the good ones to get cast; if you're talented and male, you'll get good parts, if you can walk and talk at the same time while hinting at a basic emotion, and are male, you'll get the left over parts. While on the other side of the spectrum, talented actresses compete with other talented actresses for the few available roles.
I won't say it's not fair, so little in life is that it really doesn't bare repeating. But it is problem. A problem that I am not alone in recognizing, or working to remedy. So in the meantime, I'll just have to treasure the moments I do have, take the parts I'm lucky enough to land, and keep writing those plays with giant female casts in the hope that someone will produce one someday.
Its not easy being a girl, but that doesn't make it any less wonderful.
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
Clique-Clique
We never really get out of high school.
There are many areas of adult life in which the social quirks of our adolescence make their presence know. How completely stupid we become when falling in love, for instance, or the way we feel a need to one-up each other's hardships ( "you have to get up at six? well, I have to get up at five forty five"). But the most prevalent carry over from our high school days is the way we continually group ourselves into cliques.
We may not call them cliques. We might call them businesses, or churches, or clubs, or social classes. We may insist, that we like EVERYONE, and get along with EVERYONE, but we know we lie. Social groupings are part of social survival. And they run rampant in the theater world.
There are the improv folks, the musical theater people, the community theater people, the fringe artists, the performance artists, and the Union. There are actors who specialize in classical theater, directors who won't touch a play unless it's a world premier, and patrons who have season tickets to the 5th Avenue and nowhere else.
I know as you read this people are protesting: "Wait a minute, I do improv AND fringe theater!" "I have season tickets to the Rep, AND am on the A list at Annex!" Good for you. There have to be exceptions, and just because there are cliques doesn't mean that crossovers are forbidden. But the lines are still drawn, the cliques still exist, and as a species we like to stay inside those lines, where we feel comfortable.
last weekend I spent some time with one of the cliquiest cliques in all of theaterdom. I am, of course, talking about the Gilbert and Sullivan society. Well, actually it was Northwest Savoyard's annual Gilbert and Sullivan production, but they all pull from the same pool. Most of the folks who do Gilbert and Sullivan don't even do regular musicals, or regular opera, they just hop around the small handful of Seattle companies who produce the repertoire of Victorian England's favorite operatic duo. (and yes, of course, there are exceptions to this rule.)
Gilbert and Sullivan, or G&S (now that I've introduced you we might as well jump straight into shorthand.) Wrote a number of frothy comic operettas, the most well known being Pirates of Penzance, H.M.S. Pinafore, and The Mikado. These three are the bread and butter of G&S groups. They have to cycle one in every three years or so, the same way a Shakespeare in the Park company has to do at least five productions of A Midsummer Nights Dream, for every one production of Coriolanus.
Ruddigore, the show I saw last weekend, is perhaps done slightly more often than Coriolanus, but only because Shakespeare wrote thirty nine plays, and Gilbert and Sullivan only managed fourteen. It is by no means among the duo's best or most memorable work, but it is having quite a good year. In addition to the production currently running at the Historic Everett Theater, it will be brought to the Bagley Wright theater this Summer, by the Seattle Gilbert and Sullivan Society.
I'm sure they will do it justice, too, but I doubt that production will be as inventive as the one I saw last weekend. Usually a very by-the-numbers theater, Northwest Savoyards got lucky, or smart, or both, in their choice of Danielle Villegas to direct Ruddigore. She decked the cast in sexy, Steampunk attire, threw in some dancing and creative blocking, and most improtantly, had a bare bones female chorus. In all the past Savoyards shows I've seen, the female chorus was so large it could barely fit on stage. Once there it was given nothing to do but stand in tight rows like a bunch of bustled sardines.
The only draw back to the production was the utter lack of technical support. Microphones went in and out, emitted bursts of static, or only seemed to work in certain spots on stage. It was a shame, because the cast was quite good, and I would have like to have heard them clearly and consistently. I can only hope that the situation has improved since opening night.
If you're already a part of this clique, then you no doubt know about its particular joys and drawbacks. If you've not yet had the pleasure, you might want to stop by. For such a cliquey clique, G&S is actually quite welcoming, and quite a bit easier to get in to than the cliques we knew in high school.
There are many areas of adult life in which the social quirks of our adolescence make their presence know. How completely stupid we become when falling in love, for instance, or the way we feel a need to one-up each other's hardships ( "you have to get up at six? well, I have to get up at five forty five"). But the most prevalent carry over from our high school days is the way we continually group ourselves into cliques.
We may not call them cliques. We might call them businesses, or churches, or clubs, or social classes. We may insist, that we like EVERYONE, and get along with EVERYONE, but we know we lie. Social groupings are part of social survival. And they run rampant in the theater world.
There are the improv folks, the musical theater people, the community theater people, the fringe artists, the performance artists, and the Union. There are actors who specialize in classical theater, directors who won't touch a play unless it's a world premier, and patrons who have season tickets to the 5th Avenue and nowhere else.
I know as you read this people are protesting: "Wait a minute, I do improv AND fringe theater!" "I have season tickets to the Rep, AND am on the A list at Annex!" Good for you. There have to be exceptions, and just because there are cliques doesn't mean that crossovers are forbidden. But the lines are still drawn, the cliques still exist, and as a species we like to stay inside those lines, where we feel comfortable.
last weekend I spent some time with one of the cliquiest cliques in all of theaterdom. I am, of course, talking about the Gilbert and Sullivan society. Well, actually it was Northwest Savoyard's annual Gilbert and Sullivan production, but they all pull from the same pool. Most of the folks who do Gilbert and Sullivan don't even do regular musicals, or regular opera, they just hop around the small handful of Seattle companies who produce the repertoire of Victorian England's favorite operatic duo. (and yes, of course, there are exceptions to this rule.)
Gilbert and Sullivan, or G&S (now that I've introduced you we might as well jump straight into shorthand.) Wrote a number of frothy comic operettas, the most well known being Pirates of Penzance, H.M.S. Pinafore, and The Mikado. These three are the bread and butter of G&S groups. They have to cycle one in every three years or so, the same way a Shakespeare in the Park company has to do at least five productions of A Midsummer Nights Dream, for every one production of Coriolanus.
Ruddigore, the show I saw last weekend, is perhaps done slightly more often than Coriolanus, but only because Shakespeare wrote thirty nine plays, and Gilbert and Sullivan only managed fourteen. It is by no means among the duo's best or most memorable work, but it is having quite a good year. In addition to the production currently running at the Historic Everett Theater, it will be brought to the Bagley Wright theater this Summer, by the Seattle Gilbert and Sullivan Society.
I'm sure they will do it justice, too, but I doubt that production will be as inventive as the one I saw last weekend. Usually a very by-the-numbers theater, Northwest Savoyards got lucky, or smart, or both, in their choice of Danielle Villegas to direct Ruddigore. She decked the cast in sexy, Steampunk attire, threw in some dancing and creative blocking, and most improtantly, had a bare bones female chorus. In all the past Savoyards shows I've seen, the female chorus was so large it could barely fit on stage. Once there it was given nothing to do but stand in tight rows like a bunch of bustled sardines.
The only draw back to the production was the utter lack of technical support. Microphones went in and out, emitted bursts of static, or only seemed to work in certain spots on stage. It was a shame, because the cast was quite good, and I would have like to have heard them clearly and consistently. I can only hope that the situation has improved since opening night.
If you're already a part of this clique, then you no doubt know about its particular joys and drawbacks. If you've not yet had the pleasure, you might want to stop by. For such a cliquey clique, G&S is actually quite welcoming, and quite a bit easier to get in to than the cliques we knew in high school.
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
V. I. P.
Every restaurant has its regulars, and every restaurant has its VIP's. We all know that the V stands for "very" and the P for "person", but the balance hangs in the all important I. It could stand for Important, as it is intended, but then it could just as easily stand for Irritating.
The key to being a guest of the first persuasion and not the second, lies in two M's: Manners, and Money.
My restaurant is attached to a hotel, and the our most notable VIP is a man we shall call Mr. W. Mr. W. will periodically come into town and rent out the presidential suite for a month at a time. I'm not sure what he does for a living, or how he spends most of his day, but I do know that every morning at around 9:30am, he comes down for breakfast. I also know that he likes his coffee black, his bacon on the limp side, and doesn't eat potatoes. Instead of potatoes he gets extra bacon.
Mr. W is very particular, bordering on high maintenance. Despite this, I look forward to his visits. He distinguishes himself from your average customer who expects special treatment, by two very important factors; He's polite, and he tips like a member of the socio-economic class to which he belongs.
I thought about adding a third M to the list: Maintenance. As in, don't be high maintenance, but I realized that was futile. VIPs are high maintenance almost by definition. If they weren't, they'd just be regulars. They want their favorite table, ice tea with no lemon, the music turned down. They order food that's not on the menu, or was on the menu last month. They offer expired coupons. This actually happened to me. A prominent jewelry store owner was a regular at my last restaurant, and one day he came in for lunch, and had a promotional coupon for a free desert. It had expired over three months previously, but when I asked my manager, he literally said "Mr. G can have anything he wants." So I have Mr. G his free key lime pie with the whipped cream on the side.
I didn't much care for Mr. G, but it really wasn't about his getting away with using expired coupons. I didn't like him because he treated the servers as if we didn't matter, and was a pretty average tipper. It all come back to those two M's. If I ever have the opportunity to wait on Derek Jeter again, I do so happily because I know he leaves a girl forty percent in cash. I will also try not to mispronounce his name.
And I'll miss Mr. W. when he leaves the hotel in a few days. I'll miss his cheery "Good morning" his "If you please" when I offer him more coffee, and the ten dollar bill that makes its way into my pocket every time he comes down for breakfast.
Its all about those two M's.
The key to being a guest of the first persuasion and not the second, lies in two M's: Manners, and Money.
My restaurant is attached to a hotel, and the our most notable VIP is a man we shall call Mr. W. Mr. W. will periodically come into town and rent out the presidential suite for a month at a time. I'm not sure what he does for a living, or how he spends most of his day, but I do know that every morning at around 9:30am, he comes down for breakfast. I also know that he likes his coffee black, his bacon on the limp side, and doesn't eat potatoes. Instead of potatoes he gets extra bacon.
Mr. W is very particular, bordering on high maintenance. Despite this, I look forward to his visits. He distinguishes himself from your average customer who expects special treatment, by two very important factors; He's polite, and he tips like a member of the socio-economic class to which he belongs.
I thought about adding a third M to the list: Maintenance. As in, don't be high maintenance, but I realized that was futile. VIPs are high maintenance almost by definition. If they weren't, they'd just be regulars. They want their favorite table, ice tea with no lemon, the music turned down. They order food that's not on the menu, or was on the menu last month. They offer expired coupons. This actually happened to me. A prominent jewelry store owner was a regular at my last restaurant, and one day he came in for lunch, and had a promotional coupon for a free desert. It had expired over three months previously, but when I asked my manager, he literally said "Mr. G can have anything he wants." So I have Mr. G his free key lime pie with the whipped cream on the side.
I didn't much care for Mr. G, but it really wasn't about his getting away with using expired coupons. I didn't like him because he treated the servers as if we didn't matter, and was a pretty average tipper. It all come back to those two M's. If I ever have the opportunity to wait on Derek Jeter again, I do so happily because I know he leaves a girl forty percent in cash. I will also try not to mispronounce his name.
And I'll miss Mr. W. when he leaves the hotel in a few days. I'll miss his cheery "Good morning" his "If you please" when I offer him more coffee, and the ten dollar bill that makes its way into my pocket every time he comes down for breakfast.
Its all about those two M's.
Saturday, March 5, 2011
Spin The Bottle
I never played spin the bottle in middle school. I spent my middle school years reading books and wandering around Yamanomachi, the neighborhood in Kobe, Japan, where I lived and home schooled. I have, however, watched enough television to get the concept; you sit in a specific format, there's a beer bottle on the floor, and you don't know who you'll end up kissing before the night is through.
Which makes it a very fitting title for a late night theater variety show.
Annex Theater has been running their eclectic cabaret every first Friday of the month for as long as I can remember. I can only remember back about ten years, but that is a very impressive track record in the theater community, and I assume it's been even longer than that.
I am not a regular attendee of this event as I have a few issues with it. My main issue is that it is always on Friday night, and the average Saturday morning finds me up and working by six a.m. It's hard to stay out until two in the morning, when you know you're expected to be pouring coffee and offering hang over cures to people who are not you, in only a few short hours.
So, most Friday nights I stay home, watch a couple episodes of 30 Rock (Or Mad Men, or True Blood, or Grey's Anatomy) and go to bed by eleven. There are, however, two surefire way to get me to ignore common sense and drive to Capitol Hill for Spin the Bottle instead:
1) Have one of my close friends or family members perform in it.
2) Have me perform in it.
This never fails, employ one of these two methods, and I will call either commit to the sleep loss, or call in a favor at work. Last night Spin the Bottle went with option one by having one of my best friends, Opal Peachey, perform a song from Modern Luv the show she just closed, I showed up.
And I'm glad I did. As the name implies Spin the Bottle is a crap shoot, sometimes it's brilliant, sometimes it's cringe worthy, but it is always, always, entertaining. Especially if you drink.
Last night's line up was very strong, particularly the first act. After Opal and Mark Siano opened the show (more on them later), we were treated to a few wry, original songs by Dan Hamann, a shy, muscled, girl doing a jerky interpretive dance to the song "what do you get when you fall in love", and Dartanion London, regaling us with a tale of his time working at Public Access television. We also got a puppet show.
Second act was a little shakier: A belly dancer sporting claws and leopord print, Gude and Laurance playing a non original song, and a sweet little comic telling a string of one liners. She kept telling us how nice we were for laughing, but I don't think the audience was that nice, I think we were just really warmed up.
Second act closed strong with Bret Fetzer reading an inspired piece of smut by Kelleen Conway Blanchard.
It was a good night, I had two beers, and two whiskeys, and I dropped one of my whiskeys on the floor in the process of being handed a raffle ticket. I didn't win anything at the raffle. I stayed for the after party and danced, and watched performers and audience alike descend on a tray of tater tots. Most importantly I got to watch Opal sing.
I'm glad Opal has started singing. Since I've known her, she's focused mainly on her talents as a director, stage manager, writer, and actor, but I still remember her singing "Summertime" and talking about her love of jazz in a voice class presentation Freshman year of Cornish, and I'm happy she's been able to put some focus lately on her talent as a singer.
She's had a little help in placing that focus, first from Cafe Nordo and company, who cast her in their cocktails and caberet show Sauced. During that show she met Mark Siano, who invited her to audition for his upcoming production. Modern Luv played one sold out weekend at the tripple door, but it will hopefully have a second outing. It was very well received by both press and peers, and gave Opal the opportunity to rock a power ballad in a silver dress.
You see, there's a good reason I'll show up at Spin the Bottle if I know someone who's performing. It's not just that I'm a supportive friend, although of course I am, and it's its not just that I get a vicarious thrill seeing someone I know on stage, although of course I do, it's also that I have very talented friends.
Which makes it a very fitting title for a late night theater variety show.
Annex Theater has been running their eclectic cabaret every first Friday of the month for as long as I can remember. I can only remember back about ten years, but that is a very impressive track record in the theater community, and I assume it's been even longer than that.
I am not a regular attendee of this event as I have a few issues with it. My main issue is that it is always on Friday night, and the average Saturday morning finds me up and working by six a.m. It's hard to stay out until two in the morning, when you know you're expected to be pouring coffee and offering hang over cures to people who are not you, in only a few short hours.
So, most Friday nights I stay home, watch a couple episodes of 30 Rock (Or Mad Men, or True Blood, or Grey's Anatomy) and go to bed by eleven. There are, however, two surefire way to get me to ignore common sense and drive to Capitol Hill for Spin the Bottle instead:
1) Have one of my close friends or family members perform in it.
2) Have me perform in it.
This never fails, employ one of these two methods, and I will call either commit to the sleep loss, or call in a favor at work. Last night Spin the Bottle went with option one by having one of my best friends, Opal Peachey, perform a song from Modern Luv the show she just closed, I showed up.
And I'm glad I did. As the name implies Spin the Bottle is a crap shoot, sometimes it's brilliant, sometimes it's cringe worthy, but it is always, always, entertaining. Especially if you drink.
Last night's line up was very strong, particularly the first act. After Opal and Mark Siano opened the show (more on them later), we were treated to a few wry, original songs by Dan Hamann, a shy, muscled, girl doing a jerky interpretive dance to the song "what do you get when you fall in love", and Dartanion London, regaling us with a tale of his time working at Public Access television. We also got a puppet show.
Second act was a little shakier: A belly dancer sporting claws and leopord print, Gude and Laurance playing a non original song, and a sweet little comic telling a string of one liners. She kept telling us how nice we were for laughing, but I don't think the audience was that nice, I think we were just really warmed up.
Second act closed strong with Bret Fetzer reading an inspired piece of smut by Kelleen Conway Blanchard.
It was a good night, I had two beers, and two whiskeys, and I dropped one of my whiskeys on the floor in the process of being handed a raffle ticket. I didn't win anything at the raffle. I stayed for the after party and danced, and watched performers and audience alike descend on a tray of tater tots. Most importantly I got to watch Opal sing.
I'm glad Opal has started singing. Since I've known her, she's focused mainly on her talents as a director, stage manager, writer, and actor, but I still remember her singing "Summertime" and talking about her love of jazz in a voice class presentation Freshman year of Cornish, and I'm happy she's been able to put some focus lately on her talent as a singer.
She's had a little help in placing that focus, first from Cafe Nordo and company, who cast her in their cocktails and caberet show Sauced. During that show she met Mark Siano, who invited her to audition for his upcoming production. Modern Luv played one sold out weekend at the tripple door, but it will hopefully have a second outing. It was very well received by both press and peers, and gave Opal the opportunity to rock a power ballad in a silver dress.
You see, there's a good reason I'll show up at Spin the Bottle if I know someone who's performing. It's not just that I'm a supportive friend, although of course I am, and it's its not just that I get a vicarious thrill seeing someone I know on stage, although of course I do, it's also that I have very talented friends.
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
Top Ten
I am currently rehearsing for The Vagina Monologues. It is one of those plays that women have fierce emotional reactions too, and most men avoid. A freind of my mothers said that when she saw this play, several years ago, it rated among her top three theatrical experiences of all time. She credited this more to the audience than the production, to a feeling of being part of a group of people who were all captivated, all completely present.
This got me thinking, what are my top theatrical experiences of all time? So in honor the end of awards season here are my personal current top ten favorite productions.
1) Hamlet, Oregon Shakespeare Festival, 2010
I've seen a lot of Hamlets. I've seen the Royal Shakespeare company do it uncut at the Globe Tokyo, I've seen Peter Brooks do it on Rugs, I've seen it in the park, and I've seen it on film, and the Hamlet I saw in Ashland last summer was the best Hamlet I have ever seen. I credit this to both a mesmerizing subtle performance by Dan Donahue, and bold directorial choices that include using American Sign Language with the ghost, and placing the famous soliliquies in the middle of scenes.
2) Shockheaded Peter, Created and devised by Julian Bleach, Anthony Cairns, Julian Crouch, Graeme Gilmour, Tamzin Griffin, Jo Pocock, Phelim McDermott, Michael Morris and The Tiger Lillies, The Moore Theater, 2001
This grisly, Gothic collection of morality tales is unlike anything else I've seen on stage before on since. Using puppets, and the music by collaborators The Tiger Lillies, it tells the story of children who do silly naughty things like sucking their thumbs or playing with matches. All the children die, and the play manages to be funny, inventive, strange, and the kind of one of a kind theater experience that stays with you years later.
3) Mary Stuart, Apollo Theater, London's West End, 2006
One of four plays I saw during a ten day solo trip to London over the New Year. It featured two powerhouse female performers, an electrifying political current, and a costume choice I'm still wondering about. While Janet McTeer and Harriet Walter were in full period dress, the men that made up the court wore modern suits. I'm not sure if this choice was dictated in the adaptation by Peter Oswarld, or a directorial choice by Phyllida Lloyd, but whoever was responsible, it was a highly effective.
4) To You, The Birdie! (Phedre), The Wooster Group at On the Boards, 2002
I was in college, I was sitting in the front row, and Willem Dafoe played Theseus as a shirtless, daftly proud man. "look at that" he would say, and flex, and I couldn't look anywhere else.
5) The Odyssey, Mary Zimmerman's production at the Seattle Rep, 2000
Visually and poetically stunning, punctuated by moments of laugh out loud humor, and heartbreaking beauty, this was a journey I will never forget.
6) Crumbs are also Bread, Washington Ensemble Theater, 2007
I saw this quiet little play by Stephanie Timm when I was feeling a bit burned out on theater, and corny as it sounds, it restored my faith. WET managed to fit an entier town onto their very small stage, and using a combination of poetic writing, magical realism, and heartfelt performanes, made it a place I was grateful to spend two hours in.
7) Search for Signs of Intelligent Life in the Universe, Lily Tomlin at Seattle Rep, 2000
2000 was a good year for the Seattle Rep in terms of hosting productions. It was also my first year back in Seattle after spending ten years in Japan with very little theater. Lily Tomlin lit up that stage; she was funny, she was poignant, she was a deeply human, and she was a goddess. I was eighteen and in raptures.
8) Spring Awakening, Paramount, 2009
This is my token musical. I love the experience of going to see big budget musicals, the songs and stage magic serve as a shortcut for getting you emotionally involved. I'm going with Spring Awakening over some of my other favorite musical experiences (Les Miz, A Chorus Line, Avenue Q, and yes, Wicked) because it was amazing and memorable based only on the music and the performances. There was no gimmick, no spectacle, it was about teenagers and their angst and frustration. It was beautifully performed, raw, profane, and accessible.
9) The Good Body, Eve Ensler at the Moore Theater, 2006
I saw this play twice. First in its workshop at the Seattle Rep, and then when it came to the Moore for its official run. I saw it on my birthday. I saw it at a time when I was working on my own play about women and our obsessions with our bodies. Eve Ensler is a talented performer, a gifted writer, and a great crusader for women.
10) Macbeth, little bilingual company in tiny theater in Osaka Japan, 1995
This is one of my first memories of going to see live theater. I was fourteen, and my parents and I nearly got lost in the maze of trains and taxis trying to find the place. The staging was dark and intence, the actors took their curtain call still in character, not a smile to be seen, and when I went home I imediately went to the library and checked out the complete works of Shakespeare.
This got me thinking, what are my top theatrical experiences of all time? So in honor the end of awards season here are my personal current top ten favorite productions.
1) Hamlet, Oregon Shakespeare Festival, 2010
I've seen a lot of Hamlets. I've seen the Royal Shakespeare company do it uncut at the Globe Tokyo, I've seen Peter Brooks do it on Rugs, I've seen it in the park, and I've seen it on film, and the Hamlet I saw in Ashland last summer was the best Hamlet I have ever seen. I credit this to both a mesmerizing subtle performance by Dan Donahue, and bold directorial choices that include using American Sign Language with the ghost, and placing the famous soliliquies in the middle of scenes.
2) Shockheaded Peter, Created and devised by Julian Bleach, Anthony Cairns, Julian Crouch, Graeme Gilmour, Tamzin Griffin, Jo Pocock, Phelim McDermott, Michael Morris and The Tiger Lillies, The Moore Theater, 2001
This grisly, Gothic collection of morality tales is unlike anything else I've seen on stage before on since. Using puppets, and the music by collaborators The Tiger Lillies, it tells the story of children who do silly naughty things like sucking their thumbs or playing with matches. All the children die, and the play manages to be funny, inventive, strange, and the kind of one of a kind theater experience that stays with you years later.
3) Mary Stuart, Apollo Theater, London's West End, 2006
One of four plays I saw during a ten day solo trip to London over the New Year. It featured two powerhouse female performers, an electrifying political current, and a costume choice I'm still wondering about. While Janet McTeer and Harriet Walter were in full period dress, the men that made up the court wore modern suits. I'm not sure if this choice was dictated in the adaptation by Peter Oswarld, or a directorial choice by Phyllida Lloyd, but whoever was responsible, it was a highly effective.
4) To You, The Birdie! (Phedre), The Wooster Group at On the Boards, 2002
I was in college, I was sitting in the front row, and Willem Dafoe played Theseus as a shirtless, daftly proud man. "look at that" he would say, and flex, and I couldn't look anywhere else.
5) The Odyssey, Mary Zimmerman's production at the Seattle Rep, 2000
Visually and poetically stunning, punctuated by moments of laugh out loud humor, and heartbreaking beauty, this was a journey I will never forget.
6) Crumbs are also Bread, Washington Ensemble Theater, 2007
I saw this quiet little play by Stephanie Timm when I was feeling a bit burned out on theater, and corny as it sounds, it restored my faith. WET managed to fit an entier town onto their very small stage, and using a combination of poetic writing, magical realism, and heartfelt performanes, made it a place I was grateful to spend two hours in.
7) Search for Signs of Intelligent Life in the Universe, Lily Tomlin at Seattle Rep, 2000
2000 was a good year for the Seattle Rep in terms of hosting productions. It was also my first year back in Seattle after spending ten years in Japan with very little theater. Lily Tomlin lit up that stage; she was funny, she was poignant, she was a deeply human, and she was a goddess. I was eighteen and in raptures.
8) Spring Awakening, Paramount, 2009
This is my token musical. I love the experience of going to see big budget musicals, the songs and stage magic serve as a shortcut for getting you emotionally involved. I'm going with Spring Awakening over some of my other favorite musical experiences (Les Miz, A Chorus Line, Avenue Q, and yes, Wicked) because it was amazing and memorable based only on the music and the performances. There was no gimmick, no spectacle, it was about teenagers and their angst and frustration. It was beautifully performed, raw, profane, and accessible.
9) The Good Body, Eve Ensler at the Moore Theater, 2006
I saw this play twice. First in its workshop at the Seattle Rep, and then when it came to the Moore for its official run. I saw it on my birthday. I saw it at a time when I was working on my own play about women and our obsessions with our bodies. Eve Ensler is a talented performer, a gifted writer, and a great crusader for women.
10) Macbeth, little bilingual company in tiny theater in Osaka Japan, 1995
This is one of my first memories of going to see live theater. I was fourteen, and my parents and I nearly got lost in the maze of trains and taxis trying to find the place. The staging was dark and intence, the actors took their curtain call still in character, not a smile to be seen, and when I went home I imediately went to the library and checked out the complete works of Shakespeare.
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