Adventures in Small Town Theatre
Everyone who has ever worked in theatre can watch the movie Waiting for Guffman and recognize some part of themselves, or of someone they have worked with or for in the past. (For the uninitiated Guffman is a hilarious mockumentary about a small town putting on a play about their history.) The saddest part is that doing theatre out in the "real world" away from New York or Chicago, or Boston where theatre is frequently performed, is an awful lot like being in Guffman. The people don't really understand what it takes to mount a production sometimes. The audience may not fully get the conceptualization of the idea. But I have to say... it's not all bad.
My current situation is this: I'm working in a TINY town in Connecticut, designing an opera. The company is great, has a great reputation among the people in the area and has resources that I would kill for in the city. The budget is great, in fact I am so used to having smaller budgets and producing shows in the city that I am hard pressed to imagine how I'd ever spend the budget they gave me without hiring an entire phalanx of carpenters, or sending the set out to a shop to be built. The people are incredibly nice. I am staying with a patron of the theatre who owns a largish house, and has been gracious enough to allow the opera to house me there. In fact all of the singers and tech crew are staying with various patrons around the city, as well as borrowing cars from them in many cases. The town though, is so small that everyone here knows who we are.
The town is a small tourist community, right on the ocean. It is situated on a peninsula about three blocks wide and twenty blocks or so long. It's a lovely historic community where every house was built before the revolution, and if you tore up the sidewalks and street paving it would probably look about the same ass it did back then. During the summer I imagine that the place is teeming with tourists, but now there's just the locals, and the people working for the opera. Twice now I've been recognized as being "Not One Of Us" and asked about the production. The full time residents of the town are all, it seems, fairly wealthy, as you'd have to be to live in houses like this and a town like this. One of the benefits of this is that they all have the latest tech gadgetry and there are open wireless networks all over the place, which allows me to post here, while sitting in a gazebo on the edge of the ocean watching the boats rock in the harbor. A fringe benefit of small town theatre that I don't often get, I'll admit.
The theatre was kind enough to hire me a carpenter to help with the build. He's been amazing, but since he's a real carpenter, used to building cabinetry, and has never done theatrical carpentry before it took me a while to convince him that I didn't need things to be measured in 64ths of inches.
The patrons have also been very generous with their belongings. A few days ago I spent the afternoon going to various homes and looking through their furniture to see if there was anything that I needed to borrow for the show. "Oh, you need a 19th century dressing screen? What color? I have three." Never have I had such a wealth of antiques available that people were wiling to allow me to put on stage.
I have three more days of sitting in parks to check my email, and building theatre in Small Town, USA, then it's back to reality in the big city and back to doing theatre the way I've grown used to doing it: cheaply, with unskilled volunteer help, and almost no resources. Sounds like fun, huh?
My current situation is this: I'm working in a TINY town in Connecticut, designing an opera. The company is great, has a great reputation among the people in the area and has resources that I would kill for in the city. The budget is great, in fact I am so used to having smaller budgets and producing shows in the city that I am hard pressed to imagine how I'd ever spend the budget they gave me without hiring an entire phalanx of carpenters, or sending the set out to a shop to be built. The people are incredibly nice. I am staying with a patron of the theatre who owns a largish house, and has been gracious enough to allow the opera to house me there. In fact all of the singers and tech crew are staying with various patrons around the city, as well as borrowing cars from them in many cases. The town though, is so small that everyone here knows who we are.
The town is a small tourist community, right on the ocean. It is situated on a peninsula about three blocks wide and twenty blocks or so long. It's a lovely historic community where every house was built before the revolution, and if you tore up the sidewalks and street paving it would probably look about the same ass it did back then. During the summer I imagine that the place is teeming with tourists, but now there's just the locals, and the people working for the opera. Twice now I've been recognized as being "Not One Of Us" and asked about the production. The full time residents of the town are all, it seems, fairly wealthy, as you'd have to be to live in houses like this and a town like this. One of the benefits of this is that they all have the latest tech gadgetry and there are open wireless networks all over the place, which allows me to post here, while sitting in a gazebo on the edge of the ocean watching the boats rock in the harbor. A fringe benefit of small town theatre that I don't often get, I'll admit.
The theatre was kind enough to hire me a carpenter to help with the build. He's been amazing, but since he's a real carpenter, used to building cabinetry, and has never done theatrical carpentry before it took me a while to convince him that I didn't need things to be measured in 64ths of inches.
The patrons have also been very generous with their belongings. A few days ago I spent the afternoon going to various homes and looking through their furniture to see if there was anything that I needed to borrow for the show. "Oh, you need a 19th century dressing screen? What color? I have three." Never have I had such a wealth of antiques available that people were wiling to allow me to put on stage.
I have three more days of sitting in parks to check my email, and building theatre in Small Town, USA, then it's back to reality in the big city and back to doing theatre the way I've grown used to doing it: cheaply, with unskilled volunteer help, and almost no resources. Sounds like fun, huh?
you wouldn't have this problem if you lived in orlando...will you please pray to the baby gods...we need some relief from the hormones!