Theater Geek (book - 2010)
Theater Geek (book - 2010) ****
Several years ago, Todd Graff's film Camp came to our local art house, and my dad encouraged me to go see it. After loving this sensitive, occasionally melodramatic, but always loveable account of a summer at a semi-fictional theatre camp where the kids are boiling in talent and theatre misfit angst, I recommended it to many, going so far as to drag my then-fifteen-year-old fake daughter, April, and a friend to see it in the theatre. She loved it, of course. How could she not? It was about her…and me…and every kid who’s ever felt like the only place she can be herself is onstage playing someone else.
Blast ahead to 2010. I’m stuck in bed on mandated pregnancy related bed rest two inches from losing my mind, and a package comes in the mail from my dad: Theater Geek by Mickey Rapkin. I start reading it right away, because dude, what else am I going to do? I quickly discover that this, however, is not a book that I would be able to put down even if I were maintaining my typical breakneck schedule. This book is amazing. And so familiar. This is the true story of Stagedoor Manor, the elite theatre camp for youth upon which Graff based his delightful film. And, in this case, truth is absolutely more engaging and wonderful than even that beloved fiction. This book is a MUST READ for anyone who has ever been or loved anyone who is/was a theater geek. At this time in my life, I could love it and relate to it from so many angles, but I think that anyone who loves theater for/by youth would find themselves wrapped up in this tale.
As a former theatre kid, I found myself imagining what my summers would have been like if I’d had the good fortune to know about this camp as a child. My hometown, now a nearly unlimited font of opportunity for aspiring young performers, was basically a desolate wasteland for such things when I was a growing up. After my first production at age seven (a local professional dinner theatre production of Annie), few other theatrical opportunities presented themselves until I was well into middle school. Stagedoor Manor, however, was alive and well as early as the 70’s, producing as many as 13 shows in a three-week camp session with children between the ages of 8 and 18 in the middle of the Catskill Mountains (near where they filmed Dirty Dancing, no less!). I went through much of my childhood feeling like a complete misfit, because the one place I wanted to be (on stage) was the one place no one would let me be, and this camp would’ve seemed like Disneyland on steroids to me. I would’ve done anything short of selling my plasma (hey, I’m afraid of needles) to get there.
As a parent, I read this story and see that selling plasma would not have been enough. As a parent, I read this story, see the current $5,000/three week session price tag to get in to a camp of this magnitude, look at my own 4-year-old drama queen (not my fault! I swear!) and think, “Dear lord, what are we in for?” While the camp is utterly appealing on so many levels, it is not only the price tag that is disturbing. The success of the camp as a training ground for talented youth has lead to some high profile visitors in the past decade: talent agents, producers, managers, etc. looking for the next big thing, all in a talent pool that has just tread through puberty. It disturbed me to see the perspective of kids and parents who felt that they had somehow failed if their kids made it through several years of this high profile camp without connecting with an agent or a paying job. Is this what camp is all about now? When do they get to be kids? But, on the other hand, when else in their lives will these kids have enough optimism, fortitude and imagination to follow a crazy dream as they do at that moment right after high school? Is that necessarily a bad thing? I really don’t know.
From yet another angle, I see this story as a theatre educator and youth theatre director, and I am inspired by the challenging work that these kids are being inspired to do. I have long told my young actors (as was told to me by my greatest theatre mentor), “Anything adults can do kids can do…usually better.” And I have always believed it. Kids can manage material that is challenging and complex. They can learn tough harmonies and impossible dance steps. They can conquer material that adults are hesitant to even try. And why? Because they don’t know any better. They don’t yet know what they’re not supposed to be able to do. So, if you tell them that they can fly, they will do it. I have always believed this and have seen this philosophy produce amazing results in my decade+ of directing young people, but I have always felt like I was in a small minority of people who thought not about the limitations of working with youth, but about the amazing possibilities. How refreshing and inspiring it is to read about an extraordinarily successful program that has been based on this philosophy since before I was even alive.
Regardless of the lens that I read this book through, it is undeniably engaging. Rapkin does an excellent job of showing this amazing program, warts and all, through decades of struggle and change and into the present. He tells the story through anecdotal history, personal observation, and intimate vignettes of current actors, all with the skill of an insatiably curious and thorough journalist. I give this book my very highest recommendation.
Several years ago, Todd Graff's film Camp came to our local art house, and my dad encouraged me to go see it. After loving this sensitive, occasionally melodramatic, but always loveable account of a summer at a semi-fictional theatre camp where the kids are boiling in talent and theatre misfit angst, I recommended it to many, going so far as to drag my then-fifteen-year-old fake daughter, April, and a friend to see it in the theatre. She loved it, of course. How could she not? It was about her…and me…and every kid who’s ever felt like the only place she can be herself is onstage playing someone else.
Blast ahead to 2010. I’m stuck in bed on mandated pregnancy related bed rest two inches from losing my mind, and a package comes in the mail from my dad: Theater Geek by Mickey Rapkin. I start reading it right away, because dude, what else am I going to do? I quickly discover that this, however, is not a book that I would be able to put down even if I were maintaining my typical breakneck schedule. This book is amazing. And so familiar. This is the true story of Stagedoor Manor, the elite theatre camp for youth upon which Graff based his delightful film. And, in this case, truth is absolutely more engaging and wonderful than even that beloved fiction. This book is a MUST READ for anyone who has ever been or loved anyone who is/was a theater geek. At this time in my life, I could love it and relate to it from so many angles, but I think that anyone who loves theater for/by youth would find themselves wrapped up in this tale.
As a former theatre kid, I found myself imagining what my summers would have been like if I’d had the good fortune to know about this camp as a child. My hometown, now a nearly unlimited font of opportunity for aspiring young performers, was basically a desolate wasteland for such things when I was a growing up. After my first production at age seven (a local professional dinner theatre production of Annie), few other theatrical opportunities presented themselves until I was well into middle school. Stagedoor Manor, however, was alive and well as early as the 70’s, producing as many as 13 shows in a three-week camp session with children between the ages of 8 and 18 in the middle of the Catskill Mountains (near where they filmed Dirty Dancing, no less!). I went through much of my childhood feeling like a complete misfit, because the one place I wanted to be (on stage) was the one place no one would let me be, and this camp would’ve seemed like Disneyland on steroids to me. I would’ve done anything short of selling my plasma (hey, I’m afraid of needles) to get there.
As a parent, I read this story and see that selling plasma would not have been enough. As a parent, I read this story, see the current $5,000/three week session price tag to get in to a camp of this magnitude, look at my own 4-year-old drama queen (not my fault! I swear!) and think, “Dear lord, what are we in for?” While the camp is utterly appealing on so many levels, it is not only the price tag that is disturbing. The success of the camp as a training ground for talented youth has lead to some high profile visitors in the past decade: talent agents, producers, managers, etc. looking for the next big thing, all in a talent pool that has just tread through puberty. It disturbed me to see the perspective of kids and parents who felt that they had somehow failed if their kids made it through several years of this high profile camp without connecting with an agent or a paying job. Is this what camp is all about now? When do they get to be kids? But, on the other hand, when else in their lives will these kids have enough optimism, fortitude and imagination to follow a crazy dream as they do at that moment right after high school? Is that necessarily a bad thing? I really don’t know.
From yet another angle, I see this story as a theatre educator and youth theatre director, and I am inspired by the challenging work that these kids are being inspired to do. I have long told my young actors (as was told to me by my greatest theatre mentor), “Anything adults can do kids can do…usually better.” And I have always believed it. Kids can manage material that is challenging and complex. They can learn tough harmonies and impossible dance steps. They can conquer material that adults are hesitant to even try. And why? Because they don’t know any better. They don’t yet know what they’re not supposed to be able to do. So, if you tell them that they can fly, they will do it. I have always believed this and have seen this philosophy produce amazing results in my decade+ of directing young people, but I have always felt like I was in a small minority of people who thought not about the limitations of working with youth, but about the amazing possibilities. How refreshing and inspiring it is to read about an extraordinarily successful program that has been based on this philosophy since before I was even alive.
Regardless of the lens that I read this book through, it is undeniably engaging. Rapkin does an excellent job of showing this amazing program, warts and all, through decades of struggle and change and into the present. He tells the story through anecdotal history, personal observation, and intimate vignettes of current actors, all with the skill of an insatiably curious and thorough journalist. I give this book my very highest recommendation.