Reflections to-date on DINOSAUR AND ROBOT
My play DINOSAUR AND ROBOT STOP A TRAIN opened a little over a week ago (on June 7). It has had five performances in that time and is becoming a very enjoyable and tricky piece to perform.
Oh yeah, I didn't just write this one, I also designed, produced, marketed, perform in and (for lack of a better term) directed it, too. It has been getting good reviews and people seem to dig it.
Here's a few thoughts on the piece from the last two weeks:
1. It is hard to wear all the hats. I haven't had this much hands-on involvement in a piece since 2010's CHOP. Everything takes longer and is more logistically difficult than it initially seems. And there is no credit or recognition for that. No one thinks about or cares how hard or time- consuming it is to memorize the piece as well as construct a robot outfit that stands up to performance, each day waiting for glue to dry, learning a page more of text, mixing sound, drawing slides, etc. This is all on top of the initial effort of thinking up a completely original piece of theatre, from scratch, to begin with. I've made this piece even more difficult for myself since I play the robot, who is emotionless and carries the bulk of the plays meaning and structure. The Dinosaur role my friend Jeff plays is the funny free-flowing character who speaks in cave-man talk and can ad-lib off the text easily. Dinosaur is very much in his wheelhouse. That is because I tailored it to his strengths. The burden, on the other hand, is mine to somehow act out an emotionless character and make it both impactful and funny, as well as drive the meaning and story of the piece forward. I accept all these responsibilities as creator and actor knowing the roles could not be reversed on my partner's end (I have just as extensive background in comedy - if not moreso - than Swearingen, and I can play the chaotic, buffoonish and or offbeat characters just as he can, but our working relationship usually dictates that I end up with the more sober characters. Swearingen doesn't do sober characters. I could, conceivably, do the dinosaur but he could not carry the play as the robot. So I play the straight man and he the fool and it works).
2. You can get away with a lot if it is funny. I thought our first show was horribly below par. Not embarrassing or a train wreck or anything, but we certainly did not hit it out of the park. But the first performance was attended by three of the five or so critics in town. I thought for sure we would be crucified. Or at least, I would be crucified as the writer and the "other performer" on stage with my funnier cohort, Jeff Swearingen as the dinosaur (He is sort of the comedic darling of the local press and I'm still somewhat under the radar in my own hometown, even after all these years). But they loved it. I guess because the other shows at the festival it is in were more dramatic or maybe even not as good. I still want it to be tighter and faster and better, with the improvised segments sharper, but I might be the only one with these standards. Good enough, I guess, gets a lot by in today's cultural landscape. Don't get me wrong- I'll keep pushing it. I almost never stop pushing it. But what I think is meh sometimes is perceived as awesome. The bar is usually lower than I give credit for. It is not my personal bar, so I dismiss it. But I should be aware of it. The level of quality is in the eye of the beholder just as much as in the eye of the creator. I'm just pointing out the observation.
3. I like working with my friend... for the most part. Jeff and I haven't worked on a proper play together in a long while. We do longform improv occassionally as FUN GRIP, but 2005's THE LAST CASTRATO was the last time we teamed up and that was as director and actor. It was a similar dynamic. I directed him in a role I could have performed, but that relationship could not have been reversed (he could not have directed). Despite my personal burden of responsibility with DINOSAUR AND ROBOT (especially as the 'straight man' part of the duo), I mostly enjoy working with Jeff. He's good - especially comparatively to the rest of the local pool - and when he gets enthusiastic about something (which he eventually did with this play, especially when we finally had audiences and when people started liking it) he really champions it. He also understands the humor to a large degree and knows we aren't JUST doing jokes, but expressing a story and a thematic message. We have differing thoughts on several fundamental aspects of theatre and performing, but the bottom line is: he's got my back and knows I have his during performances. This may change in the future. I can already feel the slight difference in our dynamic, but for now, it is a pleasure to get back on stage with him.
4. I'm growing. This piece is slightly outside my comfort zone. Which is good. As CHOP was. I have had to stretch... as a writer, performer, producer, etc.
The writing is solid and there are deep levels to the piece I do not think come across in a casual viewing (i.e. the whole thing could, in a water tight way, be interpreted as the final dream of the young "stupid" human child that is saved from the runaway locomotive... much like some interpretations of WAITING FOR GODOT put Godot onstage, potentially, as one of the bums, or as the messenger child, etc.). The point is, it comes off as silly, but it has greater depths to offer. And I am proud of that. That is the direction I am trying to take my work in overall.
As a performer it is difficult, as stated above, and I find new ways to express the character every time I present it. Despite the comparisons to the roles Swearingen and I play, I have honestly come to terms with my duties in the play, which is something I continually struggle with. My vanity sometimes surfaces in my darker, private times. Sometimes when I want credit for being a bad-ass or when I want to make sure I'm not upstaged by my friend who is playing a character I created to be funnier than the character I play... sometimes I let that get to me. I work on this part of myself. I have had to face it in this project and I can say I have approached it in a more grounded and mature way. It hasn't gotten to me as much as it has during projects in the past.
For instance, I can't seem to let go of HELLO HUMAN FEMALE. Jeff won praise and awards for his portrayal of Blork. Matt Lyle, the playwright, got praise and a pay check and subsequent productions. While I am happy to be associated with them both and happy they were recognized, I almost never get into a discussion about that show with someone without eventually pointing out that I was the one who commissioned the piece. I created the opportunity for it to even exist. I cast the collection of comedic actors. I directed it to maximize the funny, which I honestly believed at the time was a backwards step for me as a director, since the kind of comedy in HHF was deep, deep in my comfort zone. In fact, it was the kind of thing I thought I had grown past. I learned a lot from that experience (see #2 above). I work, even today, on just letting it all go. Let everyone have whatever credit they get. The rising tide raises all boats and all that. Do I want recognition to be my primary goal? Above the creation of the works? No. Of course not. So, I will continue to struggle with my vanity. I will continue to struggle with staying humble.
Most of all, in regards to DINOSAUR AND ROBOT STOP A TRAIN, I am pleased. I look back at some of my earlier pieces like ARSENIC AND ROSES and think, man, I'm miles away from that. I have grown as an artist and as a creator. I'm excited about eventually looking back at this piece and saying the same thing from the vantage point of my future work.