“Go take a flying fuck at the moon.”

I’m a huge fan of Kurt Vonnegut, so I couldn’t resist going to see one of his few plays – Happy Birthday, Wanda June (1960?  1970?) – as produced by the Altamont Alumni Theater.  I wouldn’t have even known about it, except for Facebook - so I guess the social network is good for at least one thing.  I’m not a marketing expert, but I wish stuff like this could reach a wider audience.  Whatever happened to things like leafletting?

“You know what gets me?  How all the magazines show tits nowadays. . . . How everybody says fuck and shit all the time. . . . How short skirts are. . . . Something very important happened with sex while we were gone.”

I wish more people could’ve seen it, because this play was largely cool, fun, and entertaining.  It wasn’t perfect.  As always, Vonnegut is at his best when he gives you a spoonful of sugar with the medicine.  And I think any live production might should triple-think any use of a strobe light.  But some of the ideas were wonderful, there were lots of funny lines, and the actors were warm and genuine.  Any play with a swing onstage gets extra points.  I especially enjoyed the underplaying but scene-stealing Mike McCraney (Colonel Looseleaf Harper), the peppy, infectious, and expressive Heather Burgess (Wanda June), and the virtually perfect Edward Miller (Major Siegfried von Konigswald).

“One time, we killed a guy with orange juice.”

One reason I’d love if more people went to this kind of show is because theatre is essentially a social activity.  I went with a friend, but I ended up talking to the two women beside me (both related to a cast member), and eavesdropping on the people behind me.  That’s okay – in fact, that’s the point.

“Anybody who’d drop an atom bomb on a city has to be pretty dumb.”

The people in theater are a tight-knit community.  And something like the Altamont Alumni Theater – by its very nature – is essentially a production by and for a particular community.  Community theater.  I even Dodger-ed an early 80s Altamont yearbook during the first intermission and spent some time looking through it for cast members (and found the Dungeons & Dragons club).

“You don’t know what you want.  That’s the way God built you.”

And when you go to a performance – any performance – you become a part of a community.  I, for one, really enjoy listening for the spots where other audience members are inclined to (or not to) laugh.  I like hearing what tickles who.  For those of us who believe that our animals essentially communicate with us through dance, even being a part of a laughing audience can be a valid and meaningful form of intercourse.

““Educating a beautiful woman is like pouring honey into a fine Swiss watch; everything stops. . . . Ideally, the body of a woman should feel like a hot water bottle filled with warm Devonshire cream.”

I know I’m a talker – I’ve been told more than a few times that people could not imagine me staying quiet – so it should come as no surprise that I like to discuss a show afterwards.  Without a steady, I’m often scrambling to find someone to go with.  But I’ve always been surprised how most of my companions seem so eager to move their brains directly onto the next thing as soon as the final curtain goes down.

“The sound of human footsteps is a terrifying sound.”

Okay, that was great.  Guess what happened to me today!  So what are we doing for dinner?  My boss is such a scrogger.  I need to make a call.  Can we go by the drugstore?  Did you see So You Think You Can Dance the other night?

“Never fight a guy when you’re on roller skates.”

I read a poem once about a guy who would walk with his dog.  He would think about the past and the future the whole time, but all the dog worried about was what was happening right now.  I think I’m the dog.  I can’t imagine going to even a half-interesting play or show and not talking about it during and afterwards.  I mean, they’re stimulating and entertaining you on purpose.  They put charismatic and interesting people on stage, trying to give you new ideas, new funny stories to use, and to make you think.  How could someone not talk about it?

“The thrill of smashing something isn’t in the smashing – it’s in the owner’s reaction.”

For what it’s worth, I appreciate the Altamont Alumni Theater picking a Vonnegut piece.  For me, he’s in the top class of influential writers over the past half-century.  I’d love to know if most people just use theater (and dance and TV and movies and the like) just to kill off a couple of hours and space out.  I don’t have great insight into this.  Do most couples go see a play and then immediately start talking about refinancing the mortgage and Uncle Alvarez?  Or am I hanging out with the wrong people?  It doesn’t have to be intellectual or brilliant – I just want to know what you liked and what it made you think, ya know?  If anyone vibrant and talky wants to go see a show with me, let me know.

“We adjust to what there is to adjust to.”

Thanks so much to Hube Dodd, The Altamont School, and the Altamont Alumni Theater for letting me come see their show.

“Welcome to manhood, you little sparrowfart!”

“Are you sure that we are awake?”

The Park Players scheduled Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream this year.  From the moment it came up on the schedule, I knew I’d want to go see it.

Why?  Because of the value of the organization’s reputation.  I’ve seen several other shows by the Park Players and always have a good time.  (Complete Works, Abridged; Taming of the Shrew; Much Ado About Nothing; and Noises Off.)  There’s no reason to think they wouldn’t do an equally good job of entertaining me or my friends this time around.  And they did.

“I have had a most rare vision.”

Especially fun was the (possibly practical) choice to cast Puck as a girl and the Rude Mechanicals an all-female troupe.  Gina Gioiello (as Puck), Laura Coulter (as Bottom), and Jessica Walston (as Quince) all worked beautifully.  The others in this fine group included Maggie Ballard, Noelle Gunn (and her notably marvelous red shoes), Melissa Halbert, and Sarah Tompkins.

“Well roared, lion!”

I wonder if producers, directors, actors, and others involved in the arts may get so neck-deep in their own community that they might forget what ordinary, uninvolved people are thinking when we’re deciding whether to come out to a show.  For example, the next performance by the Park Players was a play I’d never heard of: A Walk in the Woods by Lee Blessing.  I wasn’t able to make it to that show, but I might should’ve.  The play was nominated for both a Pulitzer Prize and a Tony award.  When it comes to shows (theatre or dance), here’s sorta my thought process in deciding whether to go:

I see an announcement that Group X is doing Show Y.  First, how do I feel about Group X?  Do I know them?  Have I heard of them?  Have I heard good things?  Do they get good PR (on sites like Birmingham Verse)?  If I’ve seen shows by this group in the past, were they fun?  Every show – every date – creates your reputation in the community.

How about Show Y?  Have I heard of it?  Do people say good things?  Does it look lame or cool?  Is it someone’s local pet project?  Have I seen other things by the playwright or creator?  Has it been recognized as good or the best?    Have I seen it before?  Have I seen it produced too many times?

“It is nothing but roaring.”

What’s the content of the show?  Does it look fun?  I would almost always refuse to go see a bleak, four-hour show about how the American government performed unethical radiation experiments on its own disabled and poor.  That is, unless it’s a singalong or done entirely in South Park-ironic blackface or something.  If your materials can’t convince me the show is fun, I won’t be there.  Include some of the jokes or the approximate running time, perhaps?

Where is it?  I pretty much refuse to see anything at the BJCC.  I find it a poor place to see most any show.  On the flip side, at least half the charm of the Park Players is when they perform in Homewood Park.  Do I have to go all the way across town to see it?  For completeness, I know some potential ticket-buyers are terrified to go anywhere near downtown Birmingham at night.  Those people are irrational scaredycats, but it’s a real and noteworthy phenomenon.  Ease some fears; tout CAP or other safety or security.

“Lord, what fools these mortals be.”

How much does it cost?  I can watch a two hour movie virtually for free in the comfort of my own air-conditioning.  I can play two hours of Rock Band for free.  I know that arts organizations need to make money just to break even, but high ticket prices aren’t the way to do it.  Think Walmart: Sell more, for cheaper.  One subtle criteria that I think most organizations overlook is that I’m much more likely to see a show if I think the audience will be full or that everyone else is going to see it.  Everything is more exciting – for the performers, too – with a full house.  Even if it’s the “riff raff” – I absolutely hate to see families in Homewood Park turned away from an introduction to Shakespeare or theatre because they can’t pay the ticket price.  Don’t price to sell 1/2 or 2/3 of your seats.  Price to sell out and turn people away – it creates future demand.

“Tis almost fairy time.”

Will there be babes there?  If it wasn’t for women, men wouldn’t do hardly anything.  Any performance by the Alabama Ballet, for example, has this factor in droves.  Not only are there amazing legs anywhere you look, but they’re rarely shy about some shirtless beefcake fanservice for the ladies.  They know what they’re doing.  Meanwhile, if a show’s only cast is two or three mature, fully-clothed men talking to one another – I’ll be frank – there might be a problem.  Everybody likes looking at pretty girls.  People like to get out and look around.

“I’m as ugly as a bear.”

So ideally, I’d probably get the most excited about seeing a show if:

• I have a favorable impression of the presenting group
• I have a favorable impression of the show itself
• It looks cool and fun
  
• The venue is cool, not uncomfortable or inconvenient
• The price isn’t too high
• Lots of other people might be there…
• …including some babes, onstage or in the audience

The hardest part, really, might just be hearing about it at all.  I don’t know the best ways for theatre to market to potential theatre-goers, but I know that even I usually have to go seek it out, even though I’m trying my best to keep up with it.  Find ways to get it out there!

“Thou art translated.”

Cheers to Clay Boyce and the rest of the Park Players for keeping up this cool, fun, annual tradition.