The “On Golden Pond” Diaries

Two weeks ago, I had a birthday. I barely noticed it. I don’t think I’ve even gotten around to opening my presents yet.

My blogging these past two weeks has been light and/or lazy — largely relegated to "cut and pastes".

The reason for that is simply this: I’m directing a show. And we open tomorrow.

Stained Glass Playhouse is mounting "On Golden Pond" the next three weekends. I’ve provided a link to their website for reservation information, but if you click it, you’ll see that the "current show" is "1776". This is indicative of some of the headaches that this production has encountered.

I haven’t blogged about the directorial experience largely because I’m too busy dealing with it. Besides, some people can write "kvetch" and be very entertaining; when I try it, I feel like it comes across as whining.

To be sure, this production has provided its share of headaches. For one thing, our producer had heart bypass surgery, occupying his time as well as those of his son (the lighting designer) and wife (costumer). A dearth of backstage volunteers has led to a doubling-up of tech roles — our props person became our lightboard operator, and I stepped up to design the sound (and operate the sound board). Our running crew IS, for all practical purposes, the cast … and the set, which I really am pleased with, was essentially built by two guys.

(Oh, and I’m also playing one of the roles for one performance [on October 28]. Guess I better learn those lines.)

Then you have to deal with everybody’s conflicts and, worse, their egos. You have to deal with people wanting to direct and/or tech-direct, which is a particularly dicey issue because (on the one hand) you ~~want~~ need people to contribute as much as possible, yet (on the other hand) there needs to be someone in control and someone with the vision.

So you pick and choose your battles, fighting only the battles that it makes sense to fight. And if you choose not to fight, you’re stroking the egos of the disgruntled, which is okay too. But in general, what you end up doing is a mixed bag (depending on the person and/or circumstance) of cajoling, demanding, encouraging, appeasing, bribing, motivating, insisting, blah blah blah.

Not that I’m complaining about people. That’s the nature of most community theaters or, for that matter, most small groups of people in any pressure cooker. But all of that stuff, on top of actually — you know — directing, is an exhausting process.

But my part is over (for the most part) and tomorrow I get to hand off the show to the stage manager and get my sleep back.

And finally, last night — the last rehearsal sans audience (we have an invited preview audience tonight) — I realized that we actually had a show. That’s a good feeling. It also feels good to look realize that, if I were able to go back in time (facing all the same dilemnas I faced these past few weeks), I wouldn’t have done anything differently.

I’ve directed before (college and non-professional off off Bway), but it’s been a while, and this experience has reminded me of a few things about the directorial experience, advice which I pass on to new or future directors:

Accept reasonable limitations. You’re not, for example, going to have a cadre professional actors to cast from, and an unlimited budget. Get over it. It doesn’t mean the show will be atrocious, simply because your ideal wish list will never get fulfilled.
Once you’ve accepted the limitations, push for the best and don’t compromise until you have to. True satisfaction in any situation comes from knowing that you did your absolute best, despite whatever obstacles get thrown in your way. So do your best, and insist on the best from the people around you. But then…
Accept reasonable limitations, Part Deux. At some point toward the end of the rehearsal process, you’re going to have to accept that he or she is just not going to say that line correctly (or perhaps, say it at all). You’ve given the note at least 10 times, and you know that they understand the note. But — for whatever reason — they just won’t do it. It could be due to their limitations as an actor, or their arrogance as an actor (which amounts to the same thing). At some point, you have to stop wasting your time. Don’t bother writing down (yet another) note about it — accept that you lost this battle. In truth, it’s only one or two seconds out of a two hour show. And you’ll discover that you’ve made a mental note about that actor, which will be filed away for future casting decisions. (Ugly, but true).
Your title is "director"; not "dictator". Listen with an open mind to suggestions that people offer. In fact, create an environment where suggestions are welcome. Just because you are creative doesn’t mean that you’ve cornered the market on creativity (in fact, you may have creative tunnelvision). Important: "listening" does not mean "accepting". It means that you will make an effort to understand the suggestion, so that you can adequately give it full consideration before you accept (or reject) it.
Once you’ve made a decision, ignore second guessers. This is not a contradiction of the point above. Being open to suggestions is one important aspect, but once you’ve made a decision, stay with it as long as it continues to make sense. There will always be plenty of people to second-guess your decisions (and, as an actor, I’ve second-guessed directors plenty of times). But ultimately, you have to realize that you have spent countless hours thinking about and considering the show, whereas your "critics" are often making snap judgments and they don’t know (or care) about the big picture. They haven’t considered how their suggestion affects other aspects of the show. They haven’t been in the production meetings you’ve been in, or had the conversations you’ve had. They haven’t been in your head. And if they stew because you didn’t adopt all their suggestions, let them. They’re only raining on their own parade.
It’s supposed to be fun. Some people do community theater strictly for the applause, and feel put out by anything that leads up to achieving it (like, you know, rehearsing). I think that’s unfortunate, because the process should be just as enjoyable as the end result. But unfortunately, rehearsals often FEEL like "work", and performances FEEL like "play" — that is inevitable. However, just because it is inevitable doesn’t mean you should surrender to it. Make rehearsals fun. No, you don’t have to become moralle officer. And this DEFINITELY doesn’t mean being less productive. But if the actors and crew feel like they’re coming every night to a funeral, they’re not going to give you their best.
Yeah, praise works too. The natural inclination of directors is to see and fix things that don’t work. This often (incorrectly) gets interpreted by the sensitive actor as a negative criticism. And it’s true, most of your notes will be, for lack of a better word, "negative". Fixing problem spots is, of course, your raison d’etre, but the problem is that it stifles improvization and innovation. So, be sure that when an actor does something on their own initiative (and it’s GOOD), or they take the note and implement it — let them know (in notes or with a laugh or whatever).