Last night I went to go see my friend and clown partner Julia in a play at Boston Court Theatre in Pasadena. It was a pretty cool show and superb performances. As I walked into the theatre--just as I have been for every show I have ever been to see--I was handed a program. And this morning when I woke up and saw that program on my desk--also just like I have done for every show I have ever been to see--I went to the large, green Rubbermade container in my closet and added the program for Everything You Touch.
You see an odd quirk that I have is that I have saved every single program and playbill from every show I have ever been to see or been a part of. From Newnan High School's production of Peter Pan when I was in kindergarten to Everything You Touch last night. I know that sounds a little obsessive, and I'm not sure exactly how or why it started. Well, obviously it started with Peter Pan, but I mean I don't know when I made a conscious decision to save all of them. A few weeks ago when I saw Book of Mormon, I was even teased a little by my wife and friends because I got one program that used to read and another that I wanted to keep uncreased and flat. I know it's silly. I explained why, and my friend Melissa asked, "Why do you keep them? How often do you ever go back and look through them?"
"About once or twice a year," was my reply, which seemed to be a number that made the idea of keeping them acceptable.
Some of them are signed. I have Jeff Golblum's signature on the original production of Pillowman, Ian McKellan from Dance of Death, Lea Thompson from Cabaret, Matthew Broderick and Nathan Lane from the original production of The Producers, and a handful more. Some are quite valuable. I've seen the Lane/Broderick ones going for upwards of $150 on ebay. Some of them aren't signed. I waited for an hour and a half for Kelsey Grammar to sign my MacBeth, and he never came out.
I've of course got all the shows I've ever directed and been in, and the one and only show that I did makeup design for, many of which bring up quite fond memories. Like Servant of Two Masters at the Archway, The Day They Hung the Elephant with Four Clowns, Picasso at the Lapin Agile at NCTC, A Day in the Moonlight at VSU, Complete Works of William Shakespeare Abridged at Seaside Rep, or Beautiful Idiots at GHP. Some have not-so-great memories like Dark Side of the Moon or A Chorus Line. (Chorus Line was not bad, quite good actually. I was just going through a really tough time personally during it). I've also got some great ones from friends' productions: all four times I've seen Frank Ferrante in An Evening with Groucho, Sarah Fineout in Guys and Dolls, Chris Yule in something from San Francisco, every time I've gone to support Julia in something, all of the times I showed up to support my classmates at VSU, the shows at the Archway and NCTC, David Bridel's Trojan Women, the life-changing first time I ever saw Four Clowns, VSU's production of A Midsummer Night's Dream where I first met Bailee.
The thing that's interesting is that despite my fervent defense of myself whenever someone teases me about my collection, whenever I pull that box out and go through it, that once or twice a year, I always think: "Why am I keeping all of these? Why have I carried them to college and all over Florida and Cincinnati and San Francisco and Los Angeles?" The truthful answer is: I don't know. However, there is something cool to me about the idea that when I reach the end of my life--hopefully many many many years from now--I'll have this green piece of over-sized tupperware full of the memories of a life spent in the theatre. A physical and tangible representation of a life spent doing and appreciating the medium of art that I love so much.
That seems like an okay reason.
Sunday, May 4, 2014
Thursday, April 10, 2014
Colbert to Take Over for Letterman
In honor of CBS's announcement that Stephen Colbert will take over for David Letterman, here is my favorite clip of my favorite Buffon clown:
Monday, April 7, 2014
Servant Reunion
This weekend I was able to join reunion of the cast of the Servant of Two Masters that I directed a couple of years ago. in fact, although we didn't plan it, but it just so happened that we had our reunion exactly two years to the weekend that Servant closed. This was one of the shows I am most proud of directing. It was such a cool and fun production of the show, and this cast was fantastic.
Not only was everyone in the cast a phenomenal performer and clown, everyone was a great person, and we are all still pals. It was nice to get everyone together in one place again, though. Great, great fun.
Not only was everyone in the cast a phenomenal performer and clown, everyone was a great person, and we are all still pals. It was nice to get everyone together in one place again, though. Great, great fun.
2014
2012
The astute among you may notice that I am wearing the exact same thing in both pictures. That is not on purpose, I just don't have a very large wardrobe.
Friday, April 4, 2014
Kino Kabinet Presents Teatro Idiota
Once a month, I curate and evening of clowns on film at the Schkapf Theatre in Hollywood. It's a really fun evening, and hopefully, if you are in the area, you can make it. See details and Facebook invite below:
Teatro Idiota began, basically, as an excuse for people I like to get together and watch hilarious movies and have refreshments. Once a month I host an evening of watching clown movies and movies derived from clown, anything from Chaplin or Keaton to Laurel and Hardy or the Marx Brothers to Looney Tunes to Steve Martin to Will Ferrell. Essentially, anything clown related from the past or present is fair game. I'll have a brief introduction on the background and how it relates to the art of clown, and then afterwards we can have wine and cheese and snacks and a lovely discussion about the movies.
The evenings will be the last Thursday of the month, except this month, which due to a scheduling conflict will be on a Wednesday. If you can't make it to this one, we'll keep you updated on future ones. Here's the skivvy, er skinny, on the March date:
Where: Schkapf Theatre, Hollywood, CA
When: Thursday, April 24, 7:30 pm until not too late, since it is a school night
Admission: 1 bottle of cheap wine (less than $10) or a cheese of some kind. We will all share and have wine and cheese. I'll also provide popcorn and fruit during the movie.
Program: The Warner Bros. short "I Love to Singa" with Steve Martin: The Television Stuff. Steve Martin's work on television in the 70's is some of the greatest clown work you can watch. This evening will curate some hilarious shorts and sketches from Martin's work on his own specials, SNL, and a host of variety shows, some of which hasn't really been seen in 30 years.
Click here for the Facebook invite.
Teatro Idiota began, basically, as an excuse for people I like to get together and watch hilarious movies and have refreshments. Once a month I host an evening of watching clown movies and movies derived from clown, anything from Chaplin or Keaton to Laurel and Hardy or the Marx Brothers to Looney Tunes to Steve Martin to Will Ferrell. Essentially, anything clown related from the past or present is fair game. I'll have a brief introduction on the background and how it relates to the art of clown, and then afterwards we can have wine and cheese and snacks and a lovely discussion about the movies.
The evenings will be the last Thursday of the month, except this month, which due to a scheduling conflict will be on a Wednesday. If you can't make it to this one, we'll keep you updated on future ones. Here's the skivvy, er skinny, on the March date:
Where: Schkapf Theatre, Hollywood, CA
When: Thursday, April 24, 7:30 pm until not too late, since it is a school night
Admission: 1 bottle of cheap wine (less than $10) or a cheese of some kind. We will all share and have wine and cheese. I'll also provide popcorn and fruit during the movie.
Program: The Warner Bros. short "I Love to Singa" with Steve Martin: The Television Stuff. Steve Martin's work on television in the 70's is some of the greatest clown work you can watch. This evening will curate some hilarious shorts and sketches from Martin's work on his own specials, SNL, and a host of variety shows, some of which hasn't really been seen in 30 years.
Click here for the Facebook invite.
Thursday, April 3, 2014
Wednesday, April 2, 2014
Book of Mormon
Last night I had the great pleasure of seeing Book of Mormon at the historic Pantages Theatre at Hollywood/Vine. (A first for me.) At this point the show has been around for so long that one more review is going to mean nothing to anyone. The long and short though is that I thought it was fantastic. It was hilarious. It was irreverent. It involved me and my fellow audience members. It was a great piece of theatre. It's everything about theatre that theatre in 2014 should be.
I was really pleased that even though the show has been around a few years now and everyone I know has seen it, I managed to not know much about the show going in. It was fantastic to, in the age of the internet and spoilers and everything, be able to have that experience again. At first I thought, "Okay, this is going to be fun. Silly. I get it." Then there was this number:
Not my video, nor the cast I saw, just one I found on YouTube. After this number I realized it was just going to be fun. It was going to be spectacular. I had few qualms with any of the performances. For the most part I was wowed by everyone, but for me our Elder McKinley, Pierce Cassedy, was a stand-out. What an amazing performer.
I'm so glad I finally got to have this unbelievable theatrical experience.
I was really pleased that even though the show has been around a few years now and everyone I know has seen it, I managed to not know much about the show going in. It was fantastic to, in the age of the internet and spoilers and everything, be able to have that experience again. At first I thought, "Okay, this is going to be fun. Silly. I get it." Then there was this number:
I'm so glad I finally got to have this unbelievable theatrical experience.
Monday, March 31, 2014
Clown in Art
A Hungarian artist who looks as severe as this...
...is not someone who I would expect to be filled with whimsy, but László Moholy-Nagy is full of surprises.
Here is a work of art that I have long been a fan of. It's a small 10x12 inch work of ink and crayon on paper that proves you can find clown in almost any medium.
I think this is a fine example of clown work in the form of visual art. The more you look at it the more you see the fly and the more the narrative begins to clarify itself in your imagination. It becomes clear that this is physical comedy, slapstick even. I know when I look at it, I immediately smile. On Wikipedia, the definition of slapstick, and I think it's a good one, is comedy "involving exaggerated physical activity which exceeds the boundaries of common sense." Is this not most assuredly that?
Okay, but clown purists will tell me that clown is not just about physical humor. There's vulnerability. There's a connection with the audience. I don't know about you, but the tiny little dots and short lines do show vulnerability to me. You see how the life of this little fly is rife with peril, constantly on the move.
The connection with the audience is the one that confused me at first. Unlike if I were performing as a clown on the stage or in the circus, this is a medium--like Chaplin or Keaton on film--where there cannot be direct eye contact between audience and clown. But for me the moment you learn the title is the moment of connection for the clown and his audience. You go to a museum and see this piece. You walk over to it. It looks interesting. Then you look over next to it and see the title, "Diary of a Fly." In that moment you have a connection with the clown-artist. You can see him giving a sheepish shrugging look as if to say, "Well?" And you think, "Ahhhhaha. I see what you did there."
For me, this little drawing is as much a clown piece as Lorenzo Pisoni climbing the ladder in Humor Abuse. What do you think? Can you find clown in this?
Here is a work of art that I have long been a fan of. It's a small 10x12 inch work of ink and crayon on paper that proves you can find clown in almost any medium.
Okay, but clown purists will tell me that clown is not just about physical humor. There's vulnerability. There's a connection with the audience. I don't know about you, but the tiny little dots and short lines do show vulnerability to me. You see how the life of this little fly is rife with peril, constantly on the move.
The connection with the audience is the one that confused me at first. Unlike if I were performing as a clown on the stage or in the circus, this is a medium--like Chaplin or Keaton on film--where there cannot be direct eye contact between audience and clown. But for me the moment you learn the title is the moment of connection for the clown and his audience. You go to a museum and see this piece. You walk over to it. It looks interesting. Then you look over next to it and see the title, "Diary of a Fly." In that moment you have a connection with the clown-artist. You can see him giving a sheepish shrugging look as if to say, "Well?" And you think, "Ahhhhaha. I see what you did there."
For me, this little drawing is as much a clown piece as Lorenzo Pisoni climbing the ladder in Humor Abuse. What do you think? Can you find clown in this?
Saturday, March 29, 2014
King of Clowns
Over the past couple of weeks I had the privilege of reading the autobiography/memoir of Adrien Wettach, known to most around the world as Grock, King of Clowns. I knew nothing more about Grock when I started the book as you probably do now reading his name. Grock never really made the big splash in America that he made other places, mainly Europe. He did one small run in New York early on in his career and decided that Americans didn't have the right sensibility for him, and thus decided not to perform here anymore. As such, if you say his name to an American, you will probably get a quizzical look, but if you ask a European if they've heard of Grock, you will probably also get a quizzical look. However, it will be more along the lines of, "What? Of course I have. Who hasn't heard of Grock?"
Which is why I have made it my mission to educate Americans on Grock. If you're looking for something to read, this biography is great. It doesn't matter that you don't know who he is. I didn't when I started reading the book. He is such a charming and witty character, you fall in love with him on page one, and you don't stop. His writing style is so casual and conversational, you feel like you just have this amazing entertainer with 70 years of stories sitting next to you regaling you with tales of his first time on a high wire, riding around in sports cars, or begrudgingly being forced to perform for Hitler. He is so fascinating, and I cannot recommend the book highly enough. If you're looking for a fun read, Grock: King of Clowns.
And he's a little video footage of his show. The dialogue is in French, but it's pretty easy to follow, even for a non French speaker.
Friday, March 28, 2014
The Taoist Clown #1
I have been a Taoist for about 15 years now. My best friend Dale Lyles gave me a copy of the Tao Te Ching as a high school graduation present. I devoured it quickly, and it really helped me wrap my brain around how to live a contented life in a way that made no sense and yet was perfectly clear and simple. You can read more about Taoism on your own, but what I really like about it is that is that it doesn't really have a religious connotation. It's a philosophy, a system of beliefs and meditations that just help you to live better. There are no rules or laws to follow. Therefore there are no punishments for breaking them. there's no reference to heaven or hell. Some places make it more of a religion than it should be, but in pure Taoism, the Tao "cannot be named." The Tao is just a force that's around us, and you can call it whatever you want, but that doesn't mean your definition of the Tao is any better than anyone else's. You could call it Yahweh or Jesus or Allah or the laws of the natural world or The Force. As such, you can be a Taoist and a Jew or Taoist and a Christian or a Taoist and an Atheist or a Jedi.
Read the Tao of Pooh by Benjamin Hoff. It'll take you one evening, and you'll be on board.
One thing that I found a couple of years ago is how much Taoism relates to Clown. Many is the time I would read a passage from the Tao Te Ching and be reminded of something I had heard from Gaulier or Avner. I mean it makes sense. Both are born out of versions of Shamanism. When I read through the Tao Te Ching--I read a passage every day--occasionally, I am struck by the idea that "hey, that's a really good thought for clown work as well." Today was such a day. Let's look at Chapter 8:
The highest goodness is like water,
providing life to all things without trying.
It is content with the low places that people disdain.
Thus it is like the Tao.
In dwelling, live close to the ground.
In thinking, keep to the simple.
In conflict, be fair and generous.
In leading, don't try to control.
In work, do what you enjoy.
In family life, be completely present.
When you are content to be simply yourself
and don't compare or compete,
everyone will find favor with you.
The first stanza reminds us not to push. If as a performer you try to push your clever ideas on people, you'll never get laughs. We as the audience don't want to see your ideas, we want to see you. The second stanza is a great list of edicts that remind us what it's like to play in clown mode. When you're doing it right, you're doing all of these things without thinking.
The first in e of the second stanza tells us to "live close to the ground." Ah, as John Achorn extolls, it was Carlo Mazzoni-Clemente who was fond of reminding performers "the ground is your friend," although in this case I don't think the first line means to literally live on the ground. It's a reminder to live humbly and keep your focus off of possessions. While I don't think it's meant to be taken literally, how often to we meet Chaplin's Little Tramp as he is waking up in places like this:
Or this:
Line two reminds us to keep things simple. Premises don't need to be overly complicated. The clown doesn't think that way, and the more complicated you make things the less relate-able it becomes. Stan Laurel had a brilliant idea when he thought to himself something like, "What if all Ollie and I have to do it move this piano up some stairs?"
That's it. Move a piano up a staircase, and you get a thirty-minute movie called The Music Box and one of the funniest slapstick routines ever put on film.
The third line offers us a principle that we can bend, but not break, in clown. The clown must be lovable, so there's not really a way to make a clown a totally selfish jerk. However, since "clown smart equals people dumb" according to Eli Simon, mileage may vary on one's definition of "fair and generous." In conflict, it is more important to be fair and generous to the routine. In improv there is the idea of saying "yes, and...," This just means agreeing with your scene partner(s) on what has been established and providing something additional to keep the scene going.
In any of the several Looney Tunes shorts that involve Elmer Fudd trying to hunt while Daffy and Bugs argue over which season it is, the action, the comedy, and the cartoon would be over in an instant if any of them stopped being "fair and generous." At any point Elmer could just find out what season it is. It seems like a simple thing to find out, or he could simply shoot both of them and not tell the game warden. But he doesn't because that would be boring. Bugs doesn't need this argument at all. He was just minding his own business in his burrow. At any point he can just go back home because a) it actually isn't Rabbit Season, and b) in his burrow he can't be shot. But he doesn't leave because that would be boring. And Daffy, the most selfish in this scenario, just continues to stick with his lie. It's not Rabbit Season, and he knows it's not Rabbit Season, but he can't admit that because that would be boring. While the whole premise of these shorts are an argument or conflict, each of the clown characters is being "fair and generous" to his scene partners and to the premise, and thus the routine continues.
Or what if Bud Abbott turned to Lou Costello in the middle of Who's On First and said, "Wait, I understand the confusion. You think I'm asking a
question, but I am actually making a statement. As strange as it seems,
the first baseman has a last name that is homophonically similar to the
pronoun 'who,' making it sound like I'm asking you a question, when I am actually answering your question." Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz...
The fourth line reminds us that the best clown leaders or "boss clowns" are those that don't try to control. You give instructions, and usually a hapless partner does it wrong. If you try to control your partner to have them get it right, the routine is over. Imagine how boring this movie would be if Groucho actually made sure his orders were enforced.
The last line of that stanza I would would alter. Not just in family life but in all things be completely present. The clown has no memory of the past nor any expectation of the future. He just keeps going and exists completely in the now. Imagine this guy with a memory of past failures or a logical assumption of what the future hold:
And then in the final stanza, you get a reminder of what is possibly the most important element of the clown. Be you. Don't try to be a clown character or an impersonation of a clown you have seen at the circus or in a movie. That won't work. We want to see you: weird, silly, dumb, vulnerable, wonderful, 100% you. You have to work and play and horse around and get dirty to discover your own inner idiot. And there you find the clown. Which leads us to a nice cryptic-Eastern-philosophy-sounding moral to the story: He who understands nothing, understands everything.
Read the Tao of Pooh by Benjamin Hoff. It'll take you one evening, and you'll be on board.
One thing that I found a couple of years ago is how much Taoism relates to Clown. Many is the time I would read a passage from the Tao Te Ching and be reminded of something I had heard from Gaulier or Avner. I mean it makes sense. Both are born out of versions of Shamanism. When I read through the Tao Te Ching--I read a passage every day--occasionally, I am struck by the idea that "hey, that's a really good thought for clown work as well." Today was such a day. Let's look at Chapter 8:
The highest goodness is like water,
providing life to all things without trying.
It is content with the low places that people disdain.
Thus it is like the Tao.
In dwelling, live close to the ground.
In thinking, keep to the simple.
In conflict, be fair and generous.
In leading, don't try to control.
In work, do what you enjoy.
In family life, be completely present.
When you are content to be simply yourself
and don't compare or compete,
everyone will find favor with you.
The first stanza reminds us not to push. If as a performer you try to push your clever ideas on people, you'll never get laughs. We as the audience don't want to see your ideas, we want to see you. The second stanza is a great list of edicts that remind us what it's like to play in clown mode. When you're doing it right, you're doing all of these things without thinking.
The first in e of the second stanza tells us to "live close to the ground." Ah, as John Achorn extolls, it was Carlo Mazzoni-Clemente who was fond of reminding performers "the ground is your friend," although in this case I don't think the first line means to literally live on the ground. It's a reminder to live humbly and keep your focus off of possessions. While I don't think it's meant to be taken literally, how often to we meet Chaplin's Little Tramp as he is waking up in places like this:
The third line offers us a principle that we can bend, but not break, in clown. The clown must be lovable, so there's not really a way to make a clown a totally selfish jerk. However, since "clown smart equals people dumb" according to Eli Simon, mileage may vary on one's definition of "fair and generous." In conflict, it is more important to be fair and generous to the routine. In improv there is the idea of saying "yes, and...," This just means agreeing with your scene partner(s) on what has been established and providing something additional to keep the scene going.
In any of the several Looney Tunes shorts that involve Elmer Fudd trying to hunt while Daffy and Bugs argue over which season it is, the action, the comedy, and the cartoon would be over in an instant if any of them stopped being "fair and generous." At any point Elmer could just find out what season it is. It seems like a simple thing to find out, or he could simply shoot both of them and not tell the game warden. But he doesn't because that would be boring. Bugs doesn't need this argument at all. He was just minding his own business in his burrow. At any point he can just go back home because a) it actually isn't Rabbit Season, and b) in his burrow he can't be shot. But he doesn't leave because that would be boring. And Daffy, the most selfish in this scenario, just continues to stick with his lie. It's not Rabbit Season, and he knows it's not Rabbit Season, but he can't admit that because that would be boring. While the whole premise of these shorts are an argument or conflict, each of the clown characters is being "fair and generous" to his scene partners and to the premise, and thus the routine continues.
The fourth line reminds us that the best clown leaders or "boss clowns" are those that don't try to control. You give instructions, and usually a hapless partner does it wrong. If you try to control your partner to have them get it right, the routine is over. Imagine how boring this movie would be if Groucho actually made sure his orders were enforced.
- Or even simpler, the last lines of Waiting for Godot:
- VLADIMIR:
- Well? Shall we go?
- ESTRAGON:
- Yes, let's go.
- They do not move.
The last line of that stanza I would would alter. Not just in family life but in all things be completely present. The clown has no memory of the past nor any expectation of the future. He just keeps going and exists completely in the now. Imagine this guy with a memory of past failures or a logical assumption of what the future hold:
And then in the final stanza, you get a reminder of what is possibly the most important element of the clown. Be you. Don't try to be a clown character or an impersonation of a clown you have seen at the circus or in a movie. That won't work. We want to see you: weird, silly, dumb, vulnerable, wonderful, 100% you. You have to work and play and horse around and get dirty to discover your own inner idiot. And there you find the clown. Which leads us to a nice cryptic-Eastern-philosophy-sounding moral to the story: He who understands nothing, understands everything.
The First Post
I began this blog a while ago so that those inclined to care bout what I'm up to would have a place where they could find out. I think I wrote about three blogs and then went on a two year hiatus. In that two years I've been a lot of places, learned a lot, met a lot of exciting people. I just forgot to write about it. Hopefully that will change.
I'm planning to revamp this blog as a place to read not only about my various shenanigans--and believe me, there are plenty--but also as a repository of all of my thoughts on clown, theatre, art, life, etc. All of those fun things I sit around and think about when given a quiet moment during the day. I'm putting this here not because I'm conceited enough to believe that anyone would care what I have to say on these subjects, but because as with all things related to clown, theatre, art, life, etc., I think we gain greater insight through discussion. Perhaps my thoughts will help clarify something for you. Hopefully, then you'll feel engaged enough to comment, and your thoughts will help me.
We'll see how this goes.
One word of warning. I am not a writer. I'm a clown. I tend to write from my stream of consciousness as it flows, and I often forget to proofread. I understand that I sometimes write run on sentences and that I am not great at using commas correctly. I know these things about myself, and I am okay with them. I don't need reminders. Your telling me that I misspelled "cacophany" is not going to make me spell it right the next time. We're all just going to have to be okay with my bad grammar if this is going to work.
I'm planning to revamp this blog as a place to read not only about my various shenanigans--and believe me, there are plenty--but also as a repository of all of my thoughts on clown, theatre, art, life, etc. All of those fun things I sit around and think about when given a quiet moment during the day. I'm putting this here not because I'm conceited enough to believe that anyone would care what I have to say on these subjects, but because as with all things related to clown, theatre, art, life, etc., I think we gain greater insight through discussion. Perhaps my thoughts will help clarify something for you. Hopefully, then you'll feel engaged enough to comment, and your thoughts will help me.
We'll see how this goes.
One word of warning. I am not a writer. I'm a clown. I tend to write from my stream of consciousness as it flows, and I often forget to proofread. I understand that I sometimes write run on sentences and that I am not great at using commas correctly. I know these things about myself, and I am okay with them. I don't need reminders. Your telling me that I misspelled "cacophany" is not going to make me spell it right the next time. We're all just going to have to be okay with my bad grammar if this is going to work.
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