Responding to your Critics

I was just reading somewhere of a playwright who wrote a snarky email to a critic who had (in the critics' own words) "savaged" their writing.

This made me think of my recent response to a critic who off-handedly charged me with plagiarism.

I would (and this seems strange) side with the critic in the first case: a playwright should NEVER respond to a negative review, no matter how unfairly they feel they might have been treated.

The critic has the bully pulpit here, and any response will just make you seem petty, at best.

If anything, it only empowers the critic, and gives their review more weight (and attention).

I would only make two important exceptions to that rule (though there might be more that I haven't come across yet):

1. The critic accuses you, or your writing, of something wildly damaging to your career/reputation - that is completely untrue - thereby forcing you to respond. (ie, my recent missive re: Grimm. I would also include the recent "homophobia" charge against the author of Johnny Baseball as an example: it just wasn't there, was a serious charge, and justified a response.)

2. The critic is anonymous/uses a pseudonym. This is WILDLY unfair, and a clear conflict of interests. It happens more and more now that blogs are everywhere. I remember reading of a recent case covered in The Times of a woman who sued a web-site for the email of an anonymous (and slanderous) blogger/reviewer, and won. It turns out, of course, that the blogger was a fierce competitor in her field.

A reviewer MUST stand behind their words, as any writer does.

This said, it is always a tricky situation to respond to your critics.

My best advice, unless you find yourself in one of the above situations: ignore them.

And even then, you might still want to ignore them.

Or even better: write a play about them.

Tom Stoppard's excellent The Real Inspector Hound (which The Publick will be performing in the fall at the BCA) is a great example of a playwright writing about (and alternately humanizing and savaging) critics, as is Conor McPherson's St. Nicholas, a terrific one-person play the Sugan produced years ago, about a theatre critic who falls in with a troupe of actors who are really vampires.

The truth is, we NEED more people writing about theatre, who care about theatre, who are passionate about it, who want to start a conversation.

Even if we don't always like to hear what they have to say.

Last Night at Grimm

Finally saw Grimm last night: what a blast! Tommy and I had a great time.

I hadn't seen the whole piece since the read-thru months ago, and I missed opening week because of my teaching schedule.

It really looks beautiful, the cast is AWESOME, and it was directed imaginatively and with great care by Shawn and Summer.

My favorite part of the evening was the audience: it was a packed house, out for the night, they wanted to be there, and they were having a great time.

Company One also managed to publish the text in a slick little edition, which you can purchase at the concession stand. It's a great idea (Woolly Mammoth does the same thing: I bought Clybourne Park and Gruesome Playground Injuries, which are both new and hard to find).

And the talk back was quite fun and engaging: the audience seemed truly interested in new plays, and talking about the process.

It made my previous worries about DC fade a little bit.

Stargazers

I just finished my new play for Emerson, and sent if off for perusal.

I've titled it Stargazers, as the couples reminded me of those beautiful lilies,

staring at the fireworks,

the sky,

the moon,

into the past,

the future,

their dreams,

their reflections.

Everything but each other.

Green with Envy #1

There's an episode of The Simpsons where Selma is getting married to yet another ill-fated suitor, and emerges from the church in her wedding gown.

She turns to her grouchy twin Patty and demands: "Just tell me what you know I want to hear."

To which Patty sighs, drags on her cig, and responds: "All right: I'm dying of jealousy."

To which a teary Selma replies: "Thank you."

In that spirit, here is the first of what I'm sure will be a long series of invocations to people that just have a WAY better life than me.

Some people are just lucky.

Or talented.

Or charmed.

Or good-looking.

Or smart.

Or wealthy.

Or have great careers.

But it takes a really special combo to make me envious: that unique person who I just want to BE.

And coming in at #1 is:

Zach Braff.

Which seems strange, even to me, as I knew next to NOTHING about Zach Braff until this morning, when I read a little puff piece about him in the Times for this up-coming Off-Broadway play Trust, in which he's performing.

I have never even seen an episode of Scrubs, which I know might seem REALLY strange, as it's been around so long.

Not that I wouldn't have liked it, probably, it just never seemed to be urgent viewing, the way I feel about, say, Mad Men or True Blood.

It always sort of struck me as too much like Ally McBeal.

Only set in a hospital.

With a guy.

Then again, I have only seen ONE episode of Seinfeld.

Ever.

And I saw the show twice. It was just the same episode. What are the odds?

(In case you're wondering which one: it was the one where they all have the masturbation race.)

Anyway, back to Braff.

I saw his movie Garden State when it came out, though I don't remember a thing about it.

But I remember it didn't suck.

And really, the guy is just charmed. He even admits to it in the The Times, pretty much.

And I'm not saying he didn't work hard to get there: I'm sure he did.

Nine years of Scrubs couldn't have been all pinwheels and cream pies.

But he's made his money (doing something that was probably pretty fun) and now he can do whatever he wants.

It didn't seem to get to his head.

He's not controlled by anyone, it seems.

He's modest and likable and funny.

He's not some scary, driven ambitious Hollywood actor.

He's not in rehab.

He's good-looking in a non-threatening fashion.

And he's five years younger than me. OK, six.

I am assuming a LOT here, but until proven otherwise, here's to you, Zach Braff:

I want to BE YOU.

Up next: Annie Baker.

Trailer for GRIMM

I am going to be at the talkback tomorrow night (Friday).

Hope you can make it!!

The Acting Life

So I've hit this strange sort of section in my life lately where I'm really looking back/

assessing things/

trying to figure out what's next/

how to proceed.

I'm a lot less busy right now, which helps to nurture such a luxurious state: I usually can't afford the time to think of such things.

And I've realized I typically work about 12 hours a day: teaching during the day, then a show or rehearsal at night.

In between I'm writing whatever it is I'm writing (last year it was Superheroine Monologues, The Salt Girl and The Hotel Nepenthe plus Grimm and this short play for Emerson coming up).

If I do have free time, I'm either sleeping, shopping for food, cleaning the house or trying to spend time with Tommy.

It's tricky to even keep in touch with friends with a schedule like that.

So I'm really LOVING the free time.

It feels alien and wonderful.

Last year was particularly brutal: I began rehearsals for The Caretaker and teaching pretty much simultaneously.

Once The Caretaker opened, I began rehearsals for The Salt Girl, while still teaching and performing at night.

We cobbled together a rehearsal schedule around our free time. Since I was the only actor, it was a little easier to do that.

The remounting of Superheroines at the BCA was also occurring at this point, but I was so busy, I never even saw it, which really broke my heart.

There was only one performance I could make that didn't conflict with my rehearsal schedule, and I threw my back out during it - completely immobilized. (I have a feeling stress was involved. Maybe.)

I have still never seen the noir Wonder Woman re-write.

Also, The Caretaker only has three characters, so we were always called to every rehearsal.

And such a grueling play, I felt like a truck hit me after every performance.

After five weeks, The Caretaker closed on a Sunday and The Salt Girl opened that Wednesday, so the tech overlapped (I don't think I ate or slept during that period...).

The Salt Girl was even more grueling than The Caretaker. I felt like a truck hit me after every performance, after being struck by lightning and raped by a giraffe.

Once The Salt Girl opened, I began directing The Magic Flute at BoCo (just the first act, but still....) and teaching on top of that, of course.

The Magic Flute is in outer space in my version, with Tamio running around in tights with his underwear on the outside, like Captain Kirk. Such a blast!

Once The Salt Girl closed I immediately starting rehearsing Midsummer.

Midsummer goes into tech during Christmas and opens right about when school gets back into session.

During the Spring semester, I'm teaching full time again at BoCo PLUS a class at Suffolk.

Midsummer closes, and the show I put together with my seniors at BoCo opens. It's an original piece that they wrote/perform themselves, called Cosmic Certainty.

It's about the Zodiac, and seeing into the future, and the Post Office.

I'm directing it.

I'm also the stage manager.

And the set designer.

I also, with Trent Mills, create the lightning design.

They make all the sound effects themselves, which is a relief and really cool.

After this period, I go into rehearsal for Timon of Athens.

Still teaching, with three finals coming up now, which are really one-night performances that I'm curating/directing.

Both grad theses that I'm advising go up: a show about Mary Martin and a show about Gyspy Rose Lee.

Reading of The Hotel Nepenthe with The Village Theatre Project, so I'm re-writing that.

Timon opens.

School ends.

Timon closes.

Somewhere in there I get this weird infection in my elbow (!) which requires two trips to the emergency room.

A week in DC/ visiting T's family.

A trip to NC to see my Granny (she's 93 and sharp as a tack!).

And now I'm here.

Whew!

But here's the thing: I don't know of any actor who wouldn't be that busy, if they could.

I felt very lucky.

I WANTED to do The Caretaker. I LOVE that play. I will probably never get a chance to play Aston again (I'm a bit old to play him now).

It was such a difficult joy to perform.

And I NEEDED to do The Salt Girl. I've been working on it for years. I don't think I could be more proud of it, or feel more blessed.

I was on board for Midsummer since the summer before, and Timon, well, I LOVE that play too: such a difficult text, and a real challenge.

And that's really part of it: actors jump at the chance to perform, in spite of crazy schedules and the impossibility to make a living or have a life.

I would perform in drag on a moving sight-seeing train for senior citizens, if someone asked me to. (and I have!)

Karen MacDonald put it so well, that we NEED to do this, somehow. It's just a part of us.

But my year coming up looks VERY different from last year.

I don't really have any acting work.

At all.

For the first time in over a decade, I have very little to do, acting-wise.

I'll be performing in The Hotel Nepenthe for 2 weeks in February (which I'm very excited about), and that's it (and that seems like a million years from now).

The landscape has totally changed over the last year and a half.

New Artistic Directors have appeared in theatres where I used to work frequently.

Directors that liked to work with me have gone away, or have nothing for me.

If I was in need of health insurance this year, I would be totally screwed.

But I'm not, thank god.

And, in a way, because my insurance isn't on the line, I feel strangely relieved.

Note: Equity actors need to work 20 weeks out of the year to qualify for their health insurance.

If you don't work the 20 weeks, you get dropped, which is a terrifying prospect, and seems unfair. After all, if you're sick, how can you work?

And acting isn't something you can do well when you're sick, though we all do it, again and again.

(I was SO sick and drugged on cold medicine during tech for The Caretaker that I think it actually helped me understand my brain-damaged character a little better...)

But if I know anything, I know that this happens.

There is no stability in this profession, and we will always be scrambling.

I remember forming a real close working relationship with a theatre company when I was just starting out here in Boston: I did 10 plays with them in the span of 5 years.

10.

Including 5 that I wrote.

That's still more than any other theatre company I've worked for.

Let's see if I remember them:

Fifth of July.

Jeffrey.

Party Poopers.

Freaks! (in 3 incarnations)

After School Special.

Starfuckers.

The SantaLand Diaries.

Porcelain.

Actorz...with a Z.

Balm in Gilead.

I think that's it. Maybe I'm missing one.

That's a lot of shows for such a short time.

I assumed, given that history, that we would continue working together for quite awhile.

Never assume.

The last time I worked for them was in 1999.

They had a change of programming, a different direction they wanted to explore, and I haven't been hired by them since.

If someone told me that 10 years ago, I would have checked to see which leg they were pulling.

But these things happen, and I feel no bitterness about it at all.

Just bewildered.

There are opportunities.

And then suddenly there are none.

And the company is still doing great, now considered one of the best theatres in the city: they produce wonderful work, and I wish them nothing but the best, now and always.

But as I tell my students, that is the nature of this business: there is no stability, no loyalty, no security.

You will never be right for every role in every production, no matter how versatile you are (though Meryl could make an argument there...)

For Tommy, the situation is even worse: after 30 years with the ART, the new artistic director has let him and the entire acting company go.

It's pretty devastating.

I have a lot of feelings about that situation, but for now, I will keep them to myself.

But I will say that I'm glad that we live in Massachusetts, and that we are married, so he can use my health insurance, if need be.

All in all, I feel like there's been lots of change, but not always for the worse.

I'm just as busy, but in a different way.

I took a new teaching gig.

I'm directing a new musical at BoCo in the fall.

And while I'm working less as an actor, I'll actually be making slightly more money and have much more free time.

Which is a sad state of affairs, but it's just the truth: stage actors do not make money.

And because I'm not in rehearsals/performance every night, I have more time to write and focus on playwrighting.

So Rick Park and I are writing another show for Greg Mariao.

Which is heaven, working with them both.

It's just different.

And it feels weird, to not be acting.

But I guess what feels really weird is that I don't mind.

After all, it's tiring.

It's exhausting.

It's relentless.

God, I will miss it.

Into the Bitch

I try my best not to read reviews.

If I'm acting in the play, I ALWAYS try to wait until the play is over, as even a positive review can fuck up what you're doing.

Sometimes I'm not so successful in avoiding them (I get emails sent to me with review blurbs, sometimes by the theatres themselves), but I TRY.

But if I WROTE the play, (and I'm not performing in it), I usually read them during the run.

I am curious, after all.

And, like most writers, I want people to like my work.

Even Ivo Van Hove cares how people respond.

And critics, in theory, are supposed to be these enlightened, perceptive, tasteful, seasoned play-goers who know a thing or two about theatre.

So, I've been reading the reviews of Grimm, which opened last week.

As usual, they range from the vaguely positive (The Boston Globe) to the wildly mean-spirited and negative (The Boston Herald).

And that is as it should be, really.

No one sees a piece of art the same way, of course.

But the system is flawed, unfortunately.

To my mind, theatre is an ephemeral thing: it opens and closes and is never seen again.

Reviews, however - especially in this day and age of the Internet - are FOREVER.

They are the only record that the production ever existed, sometimes.

So in that sense, critics wield a great deal of power, and it upsets me when I feel they use that power irresponsibly and recklessly.

Artists cannot defend their work from critics.

It will ALWAYS be seen as sour grapes.

So, there's really nothing that can be done or said.

But every now and then, a review lays some wildly bogus claim, and I feel that I must address one that has been laid against me.

I am referring to the review of Grimm that was published in "My South End", which you can read here:

http://www.mysouthend.com/index.php?ch=arts&sc=&sc2=news&sc3=&id=108395

I am ambivalent to even refer to (and thus, empower) this poisonous review, because, as you can see, the reviewer totally eviscerated nearly all these new plays.

Fine.

He can do that.

And in a sense, I got off easy: he only wrote one line about my play, Red:

"And in Kuntz’s Little Red Cap the play owes too much to Sondheim’s Into the Woods"

Here's what's wrong with that statement:

I have never SEEN Into the Woods.

EVER.

I've never even heard any of the music.

I know the gist of it, and that's about it.

I know, shocking.

I'm sure someone will revoke my fag card now.

But as I've written before, I'm not a huge fan of musicals, unless they are really dark and disturbing.

And maybe Into the Woods IS dark and disturbing.

But I wouldn't know.

BECAUSE I'VE NEVER SEEN IT.

So I'm not exactly sure what I OWE to it.

And notice, it's not that I owe "much" to Into the Woods, it's that I owe "TOO MUCH" to Into the Woods.

See, my problem here is that the reviewer is actually accusing me of ripping Into the Woods off.

That I just stole all my words and ideas from fucking STEPHEN SONDHEIM.

I wasn't even given the benefit of a doubt.

It is laid out here as a FACT.

Perhaps I should be flattered, since I know that isn't true.

Perhaps I should laugh.

Perhaps I should just forget about it.

But to anyone reading that review, I have just been branded a plagiarist.

I really can't think of a more damaging activity of which to accuse another writer.

And it is here on-line.

FOREVER.

And it was so lazily, thoughtlessly, blithely done.

Well, I would like to set the record straight:

I do not owe ANYTHING to Into the Woods.

Every word, every idea in that play - for better or worse - is MY OWN.

And I really resent the implication.

If there IS a similarity (both plays - I understand - use Little Red Riding Hood as source material, after all) then it is a fucking COINCIDENCE.

Here's what I think:

Do NOT empower irresponsible, dismissive, reckless critics like this.

Do not let them tell you what to think.

Go and see the show.

Grimm is still running.

It is a NEW ORIGINAL PIECE in its WORLD PREMIERE that needs and deserves support.

It was a brave, risky, adventurous choice by a daring theatre company.

It is NOT some re-hash of a recent New York hit.

It is NOT some unimaginative re-mounting of a tried and true chestnut (like, btw, Into the Woods).

It features NEW work by playwrights that I admire IMMENSELY: Lydia Diamond, Marcus Gardley, Melinda Lopez, Kristin Greenidge, John ADEkoje and Gregory MacGuire.

It has a wonderful cast, directors and design team.

And this original production will soon close and be gone forever.

So I hope people will come see the show and make up their own minds.