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Caligari’s Cabinet of Curiosities: Workshopping New Theater with Youth in the Age of AB5

by Socks Whitmore and Steven Leigh Morris

Ramón C. Cortines School of Visual and Performing Arts

Through March 19

Caligari the musical in action at a high school. Photo by Joel Daavid

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So why would Stewart opt to entrust her new script’s first staging to such an under-experienced group? The answer can be boiled down to three characters: AB5.

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It’s not often that Stage Raw is invited to a high school production, but that’s precisely what happened on the opening weekend of Caligari’s Cabinet of Curiosities, a new jukebox musical that had its workshop premiere at the Ramón C. Cortines School of Visual and Performing Arts (unofficially known as VAPA by its students). Inspired by the infamous 1920 silent film The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari, the full-length show tells the story of the “mayhem, murder, magic and mystery” that follows a group of carnival performers struggling to survive in the back country of 1920s Louisiana, and the sinister hypnotist who turns them against each other.

The show was written by the established LA musical theater writer, Vanessa Claire Stewart, who is no stranger to musicals of her own making. In 2008, she premiered her Louis & Keely: Live at the Sahara, at Sacred Fools Theatre Company on a $7,500 budget under the stage actors’ union’s Los Angeles 99-Seat Plan. With the same actors (herself and Jake Broker, plus a five-piece band), the show transferred to the Geffen Playhouse with union contracts, and then played in Chicago. Four years later, Stewart’s play Stoneface was also birthed under the 99-Seat Theatre Plan, and transferred to the Pasadena Playhouse, with union contracts. (Her next musical to be workshopped, Deadly, ended its premiere run at Sacred Fools just months before the COVID-19 pandemic forced theaters to close their doors and transformed the show’s subsequent phase of development into a digital experiment at Webster Conservatory.)

Now live theater is back, and with professional level set design, choreography, and a concert hall boasting 927 seats for its enthusiastic audience, this workshop production of Caligari (directed and designed by veteran designer Joel Daavid) is far from the typical workshop or high school theater experience. But the educational environment is not entirely unnoticeable; the process of admitting guests is cumbersome and heavily delays the start time, some roles have been gender-swapped in order to accommodate the lack of lower voices in the school’s population, and the supporting ensemble of singer-dancers (in typical high school fashion) is where the weaker performers have been shoehorned—a significant issue for a show like Caligari that is heavily built on ensemble vocals and choreography. Because VAPA students are admitted via a lottery process, and no prior training or auditions are required to be considered, the pool of stage-ready talent available to this workshop production was clearly limited. So why would Stewart opt to entrust her new script’s first staging to such an under-experienced group? The answer can be boiled down to three characters: AB5.

Foreground: Vanessa Stewart and Jake Broker as crooners Louis and Keely, in Stewart’s play at the Geffen Playhouse. Photo by Michael Lamont

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Assembly Bill 5 concerns the classification and re-classification of workers across the state, and it’s unlikely that Gonzalez was even considering her bill’s impact on non-profit arts organizations.

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AB5 is the moniker for California State Assembly Bill 5, which went into effect on January 1, 2020. The legislation was authored by Assemblyperson Lorena Gonzalez (who has since left the Assembly to work for the American Federation of Labor). Though the rideshare industry, spearheaded by the multibillion dollar companies Uber and Lyft, was not named in the draft legislation, the companies were clearly among its targets. California’s State Attorney General filed a lawsuit against the companies in 2020 within months of a company’s breach of new legislation, an uncharacteristically fast and proactive move for State and local government authorities, and a fair indicator of how the rideshare industry was in the State’s rifle-scope. The case was never adjudicated because Uber and Lyft responded with a $90 million referendum on the November, 2020 ballot, asking Californians for an exemption from the legislation. A majority of voters took their side and the State was compelled to back off.

What does any of this have to do with developing a musical in a high school? Assembly Bill 5 concerns the classification and re-classification of workers across the state, and it’s unlikely that Gonzalez was even considering her bill’s impact on non-profit arts organizations. Until AB5’s implementation, that classification was made by hiring entities according to a murky 11-point  Borello Test that determined whether a worker was an “employee” or an “independent contractor.” If actors’ work met the majority of these points, the producer could legitimately classify them as “volunteers” or “independent contractors.” This is how producers classified all actors working in theaters of 99-seats or fewer from 1972 to 2016 (until the union, Actors’ Equity Association, dissolved its Los Angeles 99-Seat Theatre Plan); and all actors in those same theaters from 1972 to 2020 (until California dissolved the Borello test, replacing it with a streamlined “ABC” test in accordance with the new Assembly Bill 5).

The general idea, even under the Borello Test, was that actors working in larger theaters were under contract and therefore responsible for showing up on time to rehearsals and performances. They were and remain unambiguously “employees,” and their employers are therefore subject to federal, state, and local minimum wage laws, taxes, unemployment insurance, etc.

But in theaters of 99-seats-or-less, in harmony with the Union’s Equity Waiver Code (1972-1989) and then its replacement, the Los Angeles 99-Seat Theatre Plan (1989-2016), actors, as volunteers or independent contractors were not under contract and, in theory, had the liberty to attend or not attend rehearsals or performances according to their own availability. They could also, in theory, leave a production at any time for any reason.

It was under these Union codes and former State law that Stewart was able to present Louis & Keely and Stoneface — like hundreds of other playwrights seeking to launch a new project with the aim of rare but potentially more lucrative opportunities for both the playwright and performers. Countless shows transferred from Union codes in LA to Union contracts: Deaf West’s productions of Big River and Spring Awakening both transferred to Broadway; John Pollono’s Small Engine Repair transferred from Rogue Machine to off-Broadway; and Oliver Goldstick’s Dinah Was transferred from the Coast Playhouse to off-Broadway. 

Assembly Bill 5 has knocked out all of those opportunities by mandating that all actors be classified as “employees” with the consequence of small-theater producers absorbing a 30-50% spike in their annual budgets because of the attendant taxes and benefits they must now bankroll. And though venues such as The Fountain Theatre, with its $600,000 annual budget, report that they will meet the new financial challenges, the effects of this mandate are hitting theaters with annual budgets of under $300,000 particularly hard. Playwrights’ Arena and Skylight Theatre have merged, cutting productions from a combined eight per season to three. Pasadena’s Boston Court used 43 actors in its four-play 2015 season. For 2022, it’s using five actors for two plays. Before AB5, Sacred Fools Theater Company regularly used 40 to 50 actors for a four-five play season, but in 2022, the company’s announced season has only one play with four actors thus far. 

Stewart says she can’t afford to develop a new musical with professional actors under AB5, which is why she turned to a high school. On the one hand, the idea to use youth performers to develop new works is an innovative strategy for emerging playwrights who don’t have the financial or logistic resources to pursue traditional development spaces. But when it comes to using footage of the play to shop it around, the cost of such a full-scale production doesn’t make sense for the quality of the archival product, which could potentially hurt the show’s chances for future opportunities. And with reduced operational capacity for small theaters due to the spike in their budgets, less spaces are available overall for the development of new work. Stewart says that she’s contemplating leaving California if there isn’t some legislative remedy to assist small theaters in meeting the financial burdens of AB5.

(One potential remedy — the second legislative attempt to redress the effects of AB5 on California’s smaller theaters — is Senate Bill 116, sponsored by Senator Anthony Portantino and endorsed by Actors’ Equity Association. The bill, still in the early stages, is otherwise known as the Equitable Payroll Fund.) 

And yet, perhaps there is a silver lining: The chance to work with developing scripts is a unique opportunity for emerging thespians and their peers to gain experience in the world of new theater. There was something extraordinarily sweet about watching Stewart’s sometimes macabre musical in the hands of teenagers – not only the actors but the audience, which screamed in both fear and delight with each plot twist. Perhaps these young people can help show the importance of theater to our elected representatives.  

CALIGARI’S CABINET OF CURIOSITIES is being performed at Grand Arts Concert Hall, 450 N Grand Ave, Los Angeles; Thurs.-Sat., 6 pm, thru March 19. https://www.onstage411.com/newsite/show/play_info.asp?show_id=6166 Running time: two hours and 30 minutes with one 30-minute intermission.

Note: This article has been updated to reflect the history of producers working in LA’s 99-seats-or-fewer seats , from 1972-2020, classifying actors as either “volunteers” or “independent contractors,” rather than just “independent contractors” as originally stated.

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Skylight Theatre and Playwrights’ Arena Join Forces

As the pandemic lingers, small L.A. theaters soldier on

By Deborah Klugman

Jon Lawrence Rivera directs Cheri-VandenHeuvel and Donna Simone Johnson in A HIT DOG WILL HOLLER, Ben Altman in seating bank behind Rivera; photo at top: Gary Grossman and Rivera. (All photos by Jenny Graham)

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Meanwhile Skylight Theatre, under Grossman’s direction, has concentrated on showcasing socially relevant drama — what Grossman likes to refer to as “newspaper” theater.

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It’s a Monday morning, not yet post-pandemic, at the Skylight Theatre on Vermont Avenue in Los Feliz. In the cramped, cluttered office backstage, the company’s artistic director of 38 years, Gary Grossman, sits with his new partner, Jon Lawrence Rivera, artistic director, since 1992, of another of L.A.s pioneering theater entities, Playwrights Arena. We’re discussing the whys and wherefores of the recent collaboration between these two passionate veterans of the L.A. theater community, along with talk about their upcoming production of African-American playwright Inda Craig-Galván new drama, A Hit Dog Will Holler, which Rivera is directing.

Holler centers on two Black women and their reaction to the tidal wave of racist violence and unrest that has swept this nation and shows no signs of abating. The decision to make Craig-Galván’s play their inaugural production falls readily in line with the mission of each company to date. With Rivera at the helm, Playwrights Arena has been committed to the discovery and nurturing of new local playwrights and the promoting of a diversity of original voices. Meanwhile Skylight Theatre, under Grossman’s direction, has concentrated on showcasing socially relevant drama — what Grossman likes to refer to as “newspaper” theater. Since 2011, Skylight also has been actively developing new plays through its own workshop program.

This year, a new chapter begins. Why have Grossman and Rivera come together now?

Playwright Inda Craig Galvan

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A number of factors helped prompt this collaboration, not least of which is AB5, the 2019 California law mandating the reclassification of millions of independent contractors to employee status.

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“The pandemic has affected everyone,” says Grossman without hesitation.  “I don’t think any company or business is the same.  And we gotta find a whole new model in order to work in our industry… The idea of small companies, small 99-seat theater companies surviving in this climate, it’s going to be very difficult.” 

A number of factors helped prompt this collaboration, not least of which is AB5, the 2019 California law mandating the reclassification of millions of independent contractors to employee status. Aimed at curbing the abuses of deep-pocket companies like Lyft and Uber, the law has been a crushing boondoggle for struggling non-Equity theater, exponentially increasing the production costs of small companies by requiring that they pay actors and staff minimum wage. There are other rising expenditures that must be dealt with —the tripling price of lumber and other materials and the anticipated rise in rent, which landlords have kept in abeyance since the beginning of the pandemic, but which is sure to change. Considering all this, “what we’re doing seems to be the best and viable source to keep true viable companies surviving,” Grossman says.

Rivera agrees. “I think the pandemic certainly was a pause, to reflect, and to really plan, what is ahead of us.” He believes the collaboration is a natural step.

 “This is an easy in my mind…I’m very much invested in diversity and making sure that we are a multicultural company,” says Rivera, who is Filipino-American. “And Gary feels the same way. I think if Skylight Theater was only a whitetheatre company, it would be a great challenge…. I don’t think we have that challenge…. we are really simpatico in the way that we are moving forward…We are in tune with what stories we want to tell.”

“Our challenge,” Rivera continues,” is money.” Funding has always been challenging for Playwrights Arena — as it has for most 99-seat theaters —but AB5’s passage made meeting that challenge nearly impossible. “All of a sudden, you don’t have all of the resources. And the only way that you could continue producing is to partner with somebody who does.”

Expediency, however, does not reflect the whole picture. Both Grossman and Rivera see an opportunity to build something that’s far more visionary and inclusive than what either has done in the past.

As Grossman puts it: “This idea of expanding our story, telling the whole story, not just the white story, not just the black story, not just black and white, but disabled and Native American and gender identity — gender fluid and all of this kind of thing. —then we’re talking about what America is, and what Los Angeles looks like.”

The pandemic and events like the murder of George Floyd have intensified this focus on diversity and social justice, translating into a commitment of at least 50% BIPOC casting in each production.

“We’re very aware of the world that we’re in, our obligation in response to George Floyd,” Rivera comments. “Those unfortunate moments in our time, we need to make sure that we reflect that not only on our stage, but in everything that we do.”

That means applying the principle of diversity not just to the cast, but to the playwrights, the designers and support staff. “If we have a diverse cast, and then we have all white men designers, then we’re not really responding…” The goal is to make sure that “you have all the voices together in the room.”

“Socially conscious casting” is in the Skylight Theatre’s mission statement. But how is this different from color-blind casting, like when you cast people of color in traditionally white roles?

VandenHeuval and Rogers, in rehearsal

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Some playwrights, Rivera notes, designate ethnicity or gender in their script but others do not. “A lot of playwrights just list ‘mother, daughter, nurse, boss’, whatever, right? But automatically, the default is that they’re all going to be white.” Then it becomes up to the director to choose.

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“Color blind casting is something that’s being put away,” Rivera answers. He defines the term as casting a person of color for the sake of it, rather than for any specific reason related to the material. Color conscious casting, by contrast, is when the choosing of an actor of specific ethnicity or gender adds complexity to the character and, by extension, the play. “…you’re actually saying, I want an African American woman for this role. I want a Filipina Actress for this other role, because this is what culturally will elevate this character.”

Some playwrights, Rivera notes, designate ethnicity or gender in their script but others do not. “A lot of playwrights just list ‘mother, daughter, nurse, boss’, whatever, right? But automatically, the default is that they’re all going to be white.” Then it becomes up to the director to choose.

Grossman’s view as producer is a shade different:  his perspective is the big picture — “the optics,” he calls it. This means making sure that whatever project he’s overseeing is inclusive and reflects the real world. “Are we using as many females as we should? How many directors of color? How many women writers?” These are the kinds of ongoing questions, he maintains, that ensure that the commitment to diversity will be met.

Have been any conflicts or adjustments that needed to be made now that they’ve partnered?

Not really, indicates Grossman. “This is not a round peg in a square hole —this is two round pegs.”

Rivera agrees but says: “We both have strong personalities. We both have run our own companies for 30 years or so. With Playwrights Arena, I’m a one-man operation. I’m the marketing, I’m the web design, like everything, right? And so, the learning curve for me is that Gary has set up infrastructure with Skylight. And there are other people in that world. And so, it’s me discovering, oh, there is a marketing person oh, there is a social media person.”  There are people doing things “that I would just normally just do by myself.”

Why A Hit Dog Will Holler as the opening production?

Skylight Theatre’s 2021-2022 season playwrights: Roger Q. Mason, Sigrid Gilmer, Inda Craig-Galván, Boni Alvarez. 

“When Gary and I were trying to sort out the season, we each had four plays,” recalls Rivera. “But we can’t do an eight-play season because money is hard. And some of these plays have six to eight characters. But this one is a two-character play.

“[At Playwrights Arena] We were going to do it last year. We were just getting ready to rehearse it and then came March 15, the pandemic shutdown, so we never got into rehearsals or anything like that. But I made a commitment to the shows that we were going to do, that we do them whenever we resurface.”

Holler is about “how black women have been feeling about the racism that is out there, and how overwhelmingly it affects them… It’s reflected in several beautiful surreal moments in the play where [one of the characters] cannot leave the house because the racism outside is too much for a black woman… And so that was already a powerful statement in 2020…”

The play was written prior to the pandemic, but Craig-Galván rewrote it to take place in the middle of the pandemic.

“And here we are in November of 2021: It has a much deeper meaning right now, because we have all been at home, feeling the injustice to black people, the racism that was out there, the horrible moments and images that we had witnessed…

“So, it’s really an amazing play that truly reflects where we are today.”

A Hit Dog Will Holler, written by Inda Craig-Galvan, opens at the Skylight Theatre on Nov. 6 and plays through December 12.  1816 1/2 N. Vermont Ave., Los Feliz; Fri.-Sat., 8:30 pm; Sun., 3 pm; Mon., 7:30 p.m.; through December 12. Co-presented by The Skylight Theatre and Playwrights’ Arena: skylighttheatrecompany.com

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The Foxhole Theater Company’s The Ninth Door

The Art of Listening

By Julia Stier

THE NINTH DOOR, photo by Matt Kaminura. Photo at top also from THE NINTH DOOR, photo by Matt Kaminura

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Domenico says the idea for the company came after learning that one of the guys in his unit had committed suicide. He was sitting in his acting class at Marymount Manhattan College when he received a text with the devastating news. “Shortly afterwards, pictures started circulating online of one of our bases being overrun,” Domenico shares, “and the guys were texting one another, Do people back home even know what we did over there or even care?”  Domenico says it hit him: “I know what would fix this: a theater company.”

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“In listening, we will become less divided.” 

So says Katherine Connor Duff, co-artistic director of one of the newer theater troupes in SoCal, The Foxhole Theatre Company, founded in 2018. Duff’s artistic partner, Matt Dominico is a United States Marine Corps combat veteran, whereas Duff is a civilian. Their aim, in founding the company, was to open up dialogue between veterans and civilians.

Theirs is by no means the first company to bring veterans, and veterans’ concerns, to the stage. Other theater companies that have veteran-based programming include The Shakespeare Center LA’s Veterans in Art Program, Theatre Communication Group’s Veterans & Theatre Institute in New York, and Veteran’s Empowerment Theater with Arts Up! LA.

What differentiates The Foxhole Theatre Company is its military/civilian blend of leadership that relies on both perspectives to peel back the curtain on the often-overlooked subject of U.S. soldiers in wars overseas, and the effects of those wars on the people who fight in them.

The company’s current show The Ninth Door is being performed at The Actors’ Company on Formosa Avenue in Los Angeles, a stone’s throw from West Hollywood, playing through October 29. Co-written by Domenico and Duff, and directed by Ryan Knight, it tells the story of nine soldiers (each of whom fought in Afghanistan) who find themselves in a state of limbo after their deaths. Each man must confront their inner demons before they are able to pass on to the great beyond.

Domenico says the idea for the company came after learning that one of the guys in his unit had committed suicide. He was sitting in his acting class at Marymount Manhattan College when he received a text with the devastating news.

“Shortly afterwards, pictures started circulating online of one of our bases being overrun,” Domenico shares, “and the guys were texting one another, Do people back home even know what we did over there or even care?”

With that question in mind, Domenico says it hit him: “I know what would fix this: a theater company.”

He knew there was power in creating a space where military veterans could share their stories free of judgment – and that the theater was one such space.

He partnered with Duff, and the two started writing. With the production of their first play, Twist-Pull-Smoke-Run Motherf*cker, Run, presented in 2018 at the Hollywood Fringe Festival, The Foxhole Theatre Company was born.

Duff says that working with this company has opened her eyes to what military veterans go through but don’t talk about.

“Once I met someone who was actually [in a military conflict overseas], Duff notes, “my viewpoint became much more personal. Now I work with vets constantly, and I have learned that no one knows more about wars than the people who fight them.”

But there’s something else she’s also noticed: “The worst part is that no one is listening to them.” — largely because they’re not speaking out. “I had no idea this silent group was hurting so much until I became involved in the community.”

In a quick chat after a performance of The Ninth Door, Domenico shares that he drew on his experiences from his own tours in Afghanistan to supply the show with some of its stories.

“Many feel like we had unfinished business left there, many feel like the men who died fighting the Taliban died for nothing, still others feel like the people we left behind deserved better,” Duff says. “When writing the show, we wrote it as a warning; we defeated the Taliban, but we forgot about the real thing we were fighting for: the Afghani people.”

With the time it takes to write a play, and then to get it onto the stage, it’s hard for a theater piece to be timely. In the case of The Ninth Door, however, the play was ahead of the headlines.

Duff and Domenico started writing The Ninth Door at the end of 2019 – long before the U.S. and other Western troops began pulling out of Afghanistan.

“We meant it as a warning to our veterans that the War in Afghanistan may draw to a close in an unexpected manner. Part of its message was to prepare [them] for that possibility,” Domenico says.

He knew it was only a matter of time before that happened, and he and Duff wanted to write a piece about moving on from the leftover trauma the war would inevitably leave behind.

Then it happened. As the cast started putting the show on its feet, the U.S. military began pulling out of Afghanistan.

“To work on the production while we were literally withdrawing from Afghanistan was incredible,” Domenico shares. “It brought a real weight to everything that we were doing, and the cast and crew felt that. Everyone knew what the impact of this play could be.” 

The play itself serves as an example of what The Foxhole Theatre Company is all about – creating an environment where soldiers can openly talk about what they’ve been through, and have it fall on willing ears. And while veterans do come to see their shows – two of Domenico’s old squad member even surprised him during the run of Twist-Pull-Smoke-Run Motherf*cker, Run – many, if not most, of their audiences are comprised of civilians.

Then, by watching, the conversation starts.

“The most valuable thing to take away from the conversations is that veterans will talk and share their burden if you want to listen,” Duff says. “And to the veterans, civilians will listen to you. They want to know. The most valuable thing to take away from our plays is to listen to each other.”

And what kind of conversations do they hope will come from these exchanges?

A deeper understanding of veterans themselves.

“If you took the Black, Asian, and LGBTQ community and just told stories of bigotry you wouldn’t have plays like A Raisin In The Sun, Angels In America, or Miss Saigon. Where the veteran community is at with theater, we only have works of them in combat and the horrors of it,” Domenico says. “We’re completely missing out on this community’s themes of what family, brotherhood, love, etc. means to them. I hope plays like this will give audience members a different perspective of veterans and how much more of the genre can be explored.” 

In addition to stage productions, The Foxhole Theater Company also produces a podcast – titled The Foxhole Podcast and co-hosted by veteran/civilian team Brock Joseph and Matthew Pardue – which invites veterans of any rank or branch to come on and share their stories.

“The podcast has been a big step forward for many of our veteran guests,” Domenico shares. “Some have never told their stories until the interviews.”

Up next for The Foxhole Theatre Company, they are toying with the idea of producing a non-military comedy in 2022 that employs both veterans and civilians. Along with that, they will continue to workshop new veteran-themed scripts.

And how do veterans feel about seeing themselves represented onstage?

“The veteran community has been very supportive of our work,” Domenico says. “. . .  Our plays give a necessary catharsis to veterans, and sometimes even drive them to finally talk to their loved ones, or even get inspired themselves. It has been a very rewarding process.” 

The Ninth Door is being presented by The Foxhole Theater Company at The Actor’s Company, 916 North Formosa Avenue, Los Angele; Thurs.-Sat., 8 p.m., Sun., Oct. 17, 2 p.m.; through October 29. Running time: 90 minutes, no intermission. Tickets here.

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Has Covid Given Our Theater a Gift?

Easing Back into the Breach: A View From New York

by Emily Hawkins

“The Watering Hole” by Lynn Nottage, Signature Theatre, New York (Photo by Lia Chang)

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Starting to see the light of the end of the Covid Tunnel begs the question: Is there a future for these pandemic innovations?

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There’s no doubt that theater is one of the most resilient art forms. It has been considered a “dying” industry for centuries, and many thought this past year might have been the final nail in the coffin. Obviously, the heart of theater – people gathering together for a collective experience — was impossible under the restrictions of Covid-19. We were sequestered into isolated quarantines and not allowed within six feet of one another — let alone inside an intimate theater. However, theater persisted, as it always has. We were forced to adapt and teach ourselves the art of the Zoom. But through it all, we agreed nothing could compare with the feeling of being in a live performance.

Starting to see the light of the end of the Covid Tunnel begs the question: Is there a future for these pandemic innovations?

Had the pandemic happened 10-15 years ago, it very well might have been the end of theater as we know it. With technological advancements of the past decades though, the theater, like so many large and small businesses, has adapted to the challenge of social distancing. Board meetings went on Zoom. Play readings were live-streamed. Within the constraints of the pandemic, accessibility abounded in ways previously deemed impossible. Because people were unable to come to the theaters, theaters had to come to the people. All the virtual productions and readings were made available to anyone with a signal, extending the traditional reach tenfold.

City Garage Theatre in Santa Monica, for example, reports that its online reach has become international, with viewership of some of its archival broadcasts far surpassing audience attendance for a traditional in-person production.

Other repercussions are even more far reaching. This past year’s creations have altered what we think of as “theatrical.” Does an audience have to be in the same space as the actors to have a that collective experience? (That has always been the main divide between the theater and cinema.) The understanding is that if we’re looking at actors on a screen, the experience is fundamentally cinematic. So, what is it that makes theater theatrical? Is it the just unpredictability of watching a live performance? Being in the same room as the actors? Going through the journey of a show with fellow audience members?

Of course, there were live streams of different shows to try to tackle the shared experience. There were also socially distanced productions with audiences masked and six feet apart, but all were still lacking that authentic sense of community that comes with a traditional night at the theater.

The Watering Hole

Photo by Lia Chang

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Acknowledging the growing pains we’ve had to go through to get to this point will kindle the flame of this new era of theater.

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One production that took on the Covid restrictions in a unique, technologically advanced way was Lynn Nottage’s new creation, The Watering Hole, which she developed with Miranda Haymon, and 17 other artists of color. One of the first Covid-era, “in-person” productions arrived at Signature Theater in New York in an unexpected fashion.

Audience members, split into small groups, were “immersed” into a series of installations, exploring “restorative powers of water” and the ensuing healing we all need from the travails of this past year and a half.  The various emotionally charged installations, however, evoked a forced catharsis that felt inauthentic. Each installation led groups from the lobby, through the theater- and backstage spaces, invited audience members to contemplate where they feel the safest and whole — or where their “watering hole” may be. The culmination of the experience necessitated a feeling of vulnerability in order to experience the healing. For this viewer, the production’s reach for audience vulnerability felt strained.

Perhaps this is because the primary players in the event were the design elements, which tried to substitute for the presence of actors. Not a single actor was to be found within the walls of the theater, unless one redefines audience members participating in an immersive experience as players in a theatrical event so carefully designed by others. Those designed were certainly innovative, technically: impressive projections of a soliloquy by the “Ocean Goddess” in one installation, and a fully sensory soundbox in another segment, the designers showcased their mastery of advanced technological and artistic methods. Intended as a “welcome back to the theater,” The Watering Hole provided an unexpected experience to audiences longing for any exposure to the theater they could get after the long period away. And yet . . .

As we re-enter the live theater sphere, what is to come of the quarantine creations? With over a year spent on developing new methods to enjoy the theater, do they all disappear without a trace, once we can sit side by side with our fellow theater lovers? Obviously, it will still be some time before things are truly “back to normal” with the unpredictability of the new variants and vaccination guidelines; will there come a time when we will enter a theater again, uninhibited?

The unprecedented accessibility encountered over the pandemic should certainly find its way into the mainstream of the theater community moving forward. Only time will tell how these theaters choose to incorporate these new projects into their rotation or get rid of them altogether. We step into the future of theater with new tools in our toolbox and an increased scope of what can be theatrical. Acknowledging the growing pains we’ve had to go through to get to this point will kindle the flame of this new era of theater.

Ultimately, our return to theatre will endure some growing pains. The Signature Theater’s production of The Watering Hole, while beautifully executed, lacked the final touch of an actor’s innate influence on a live experience.  The technical exploration of the piece would be interesting to see integrated into productions of this new era, but the production in the present moment felt void of the healing it intended to produce. The magic of theater comes from the integration of all the technical elements with the craft of the actors in a given space. The last year and a half has left a yearning for the most theatrical of experiences, and anything lacking all crucial elements seems to fall short of that fulfillment of theatricality.

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TeenTix LA Settles In

Seattle-based program encouraging teen access to the arts debuts in Los Angeles

By Julia Stier

Photo: courtesy TeenTix Seattle. Top photo: TeenTix Seattle press corps.

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What makes TeenTix different is its specific focus on teens, as well as its ambition of being an all-purpose arts destination site for youth, including components of interactive teen discussion in general, and journalism in particular. By creating an inclusive, easy-to-navigate platform, Whorton is hopeful that the program will cultivate the next generation of theater-goers and creators.

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This year, you may notice a change in the ages of your fellow theater-goers.

A new program called TeenTix LA is coming to Los Angeles, with the hopes of dismantling the barriers – mainly financial – that keep teens away from the arts.

TeenTix first started in Seattle, in 2004, as a way to help teens gain access to – and have active involvement in – the performing and visual arts. The Seattle community recognized the value of helping teens engage with the arts, and currently, there are 70 organizations throughout the Puget Sound region participating in TeenTix Seattle.

“[TeenTix is] really about teaching young people how to attend and engage with arts and culture themselves, and really putting the ownership in the hands of the young people,” says Monique Courcy, Executive Director of TeenTix Seattle. “A lot of times young people are taken by somebody else, and so TeenTix allows young people to really be at the forefront, and at the lead of, that arts outing.”

Now, after two years of research and coordinating efforts, TeenTix is ready to open its first chapter in Los Angeles County.

According to surveys conducted by the fledgling TeenTix LA program:

“Surveys of LA teens showed us that 39% recognized cost as a barrier that prevented them from seeing art, and 43% of surveyed teens said it was somewhat of a problem. Additionally 68% of teens said they did not feel welcomed in arts spaces; however a notable 52% said they’d be likely to attend an arts event if the ticket was $5.”

Through the TeenTix Pass Program, teenagers, ages 13-19, can sign up for free TeenTix Pass, which will allow them to purchase day-of-show tickets for just $5 from participating arts organizations, including concert venues, galleries, museums, and theaters. To help teens make the most of this program, and to make navigating LA’s abundant arts scene easier, the local chapter has created the LA.TeenTix.Org Calendar, which posts all listings available on a specific day.

Allison Whorton, the Program Director of TeenTixLA, shares how the program will not only benefit teens, but participating arts organizations as well.

“TeenTix LA helps engage the next generation of arts lovers,” says Whorton. “Young people who experience the arts in their teens will grow up to become arts-makers, arts patrons, arts supporters, and arts advocates.”

(Whorton’s assertion is supported in research by The Wallace Foundation in Santa Monica and the LA County Department of Arts and Culture.)

And for the teens themselves, TeenTix educates, as well as entertains, benefiting teens by “Providing [them] access to the arts [which] inspires creativity and imagination that’ll help form more well-rounded, curious, engaged citizens & leaders,” Whorton adds. Furthermore, “The arts open minds to different stories, backgrounds, and perspectives,” as well as “help promote social discourse and social change, and encourage education and literacy.”

Whorton also hopes that the TeenTix programs will encourage young arts-attendees from marginalized communities to attend events in LA.

“Inviting teens into arts spaces with a TeenTix partnership not only helps make the arts accessible and equitable,” say Whorton, “it also fills arts space with young, eager patrons and strengthens the arts ecosystem of LA. It is an investment into the future of the arts and culture industry of Los Angeles.”

And what does Whorton hope the community’s response to this initiative will be?

 “I hope – eventually – TeenTix LA becomes a household name within the households of families with teens, as well as within the LA arts community! Given the expansive geography of LA county, we’re starting small with our partnership building by focusing our efforts on arts/community organizations within four neighborhood hubs. We hope this incremental growth will help us build sustainable partnerships and generate organic momentum within the city and county. We look forward to being an invaluable resource for teens and arts organizations.”

However, while TeenTix looks to cast a wider net than other programs, they are not the first to notice the discrepancy between younger audiences who want to attend arts events, and those who actually do.

Some organizations have already put programs of similar ideology into place. Center Theatre Group’s FreePlay program offers free tickets to the first previews performance of all shows at the Mark Taper Forum and Kirk Douglas Theatre, as well as a select few tickets made available for shows at the Ahmanson Theatre.  This program is geared towards those 25-years-old and younger.

What makes TeenTix different is its specific focus on teens, as well as its ambition of being an all-purpose arts destination site for youth, including components of interactive teen discussion in general, and journalism in particular. By creating an inclusive, easy-to-navigate platform, Whorton is hopeful that the program will cultivate the next generation of theater-goers and creators.

And that’s not all from TeenTix. Over the past couple of years, the organization has also been looking to create new initiatives and programs. TeenTix programs that are currently up and running in Seattle – and will be making their way to LA in the future – are the Teen Leadership Board and Teen Press Corp.

 And how do they know what teens want? They ask the teens themselves!

“The development of TeenTix over the last few years has really been team driven,” says Courcy. “We don’t really make decisions without consulting young people at TeenTix, and I think that’s a really unique way to drive an organization’s growth.” 

For more information on how to sign up for the TeenTix Pass Program in Los Angeles and to sign up for the TeenTix newsletter, visit https://la.teentix.org/

Disclosure: Stage Raw Founding Editor, Steven Leigh Morris serves as an officer on the Steering Committee for TeenTix LA.

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Branden Jacobs-Jenkins’s An Octoroon, at the Fountain Theatre

Stereotypes and Bigotry roasted in satire

By Deborah Klugman

Matthew Hancock in AN OCTOROON. Top photo: Hancock and Hazel Lazano. (All photos by Jenny Graham)

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“When is a play about race in this tragically divisive nation of ours ever not timely?”

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An Octoroon, by Branden Jacobs-Jenkins and staged at the Fountain Theater’s new (and fabulous) outdoor theater space is a funny, disturbing one-of-a-kind play, directed by Judith Moreland. It’s also timely – but when is a play about race in this tragically divisive nation of ours ever not timely?

Jacobs-Jenkins wrote this stygian satire after reading The Octoroon (note the difference in article), a 19^th century melodrama by Irish-born playwright, actor and producer Dion Boucicault. The Octoroon premiered in 1859 at the Winter Garden Theater in New York, running for 200 nights and scoring several successful cross-country tours as well. Based on a novel by another prolific Irish writer, Thomas Mayne Reid, and alternatively titled (with snide accuracy, I presume) Life in Louisiana, it revolves around a star-crossed romance between a white male heir to a plantation and the octoroon (1/8 Black) daughter of his uncle by an enslaved woman.

Pam Trotter, Vanessa Claire Stewart, and Hancock

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“The result is a wonderful, messy, complicated stew of a play encompassing slapstick, wildly different styles of performance and incendiary questions about race and identity that admittedly are never answered — but oh, they are intriguingly posed!”

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Notably progressive for its time, Boucicault’s play is nonetheless a conventional work, top heavy with racist and gender stereotypes that are ripe for parody. What’s singular about Jacobs-Jenkins’ spin is that, rather than merely burlesquing these tropes, he juxtaposes his redo with the troubled and troubling discourse of a contemporary playwright, whose name, BJJ, corresponds to his own initials own.

The result is a wonderful, messy, complicated stew of a play encompassing slapstick, wildly different styles of performance and incendiary questions about race and identity that admittedly are never answered — but oh, they are intriguingly posed!

We meet BJJ (Matthew Hancock), dressed in his undies, complaining to his unseen (and possibly imaginary) therapist of the expectations laid upon him as a Black playwright — to only write about issues relevant to race. He’s further frustrated because his efforts to cast a version of The Octoroon are being stymied by white actors’ refusal to play enslavers, forcing him to don whiteface and undertake to play multiple white characters himself, including both the romantic lead and the dastardly villain.

As BJJ is venting, another character, The Playwright (Rob Nagle) appears; this is the incarnation of Boucicault, very drunk and distressed at the tawdry surroundings of the playing space compared to the regal extravagance of the 19^th century Winter Garden Theater. Soon, The Playwright is also “making up,” smearing his face with red as he prepares to assume the role of a Native American in the play-within-a-play to come.

Lozano, and Rob Nagle

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“The bizarre double and triple casting in tandem with twists and turns in the plot achieve an apex of hilarious inanity when hero and villain, both played by Hancock in high octane mode, wrestle each other in a duel to the death.”

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We are then launched into the melodrama proper. In brief: George is smitten with Zoe (Mara Klein) but they are legally forbidden to marry given her “race.” Meanwhile, the estate of George’s dead uncle, including Zoe herself, is about to be auctioned off, possibly to a cruel overseer, to pay off debts. George is also being pursued by a wealthy hot-to-trot debutante (Vanessa Claire Stewart), while the household staff of slaves (Pam Trotter, Kacie Rogers, Hazel Lozano and Leea Ayers) engage — in a sort of antebellum Upstairs Downstairs way — in their own rivalries and ruminations, utilizing, from time to time, modern lingo. Periodically, the character of Brer Rabbit (Ayers), a folk figure historically spun out of Louisiana, ambles in and out of the story.

The bizarre double and triple casting in tandem with twists and turns in the plot achieve an apex of hilarious inanity when hero and villain, both played by Hancock in high octane mode, wrestle each other in a duel to the death (fight director Jen Albert). The other comic highlight is Nagle’s entire first scene as the inebriated (red-faced even without the makeup) Boucicault. It’s the production’s standout performance.

An Octoroon isn’t about laughs, however, which are there for the most part to get our attention. Instead, Jacobs-Jenkins has written this play to make us think — and feel. And, to be absolutely sure we grasp what to think and feel about, there’s a very protracted pause in the action midway through Act Four, when the infamously graphic photograph of the August 7, 1930 lynching of Thomas Shipp and Abram Smith in Marion, Indiana is projected against the proscenium backdrop.

During intermission too, a lineup of old 1940s and 50s cartoons (video design, Nicholas E. Santiago) are displayed that are rife with grossly offensive stereotypes of people of color. If you’re my age or thereabouts, you recognize with horror how you’ve grown up with these grotesque images permeating your brain.

All of the above — plus having several members among the ensemble with sterling track records — point in the direction of a powerhouse production. Under Moreland’s direction, however, that hasn’t materialized — or, to put a more optimistic spin on it — hasn’t yet.

As limber a talent as ever there was, Hancock delivers his complex opening monologue expositionally rather than otherwise. But why? This is twisty fire-up-from-the-belly stuff; abounding with irony, it speaks to the kernel of torment for an artist of color (and it sure seems personal for Jacobs-Jenkins himself, with the character bearing his initials and all). But the actor seems not to have been counseled this way.

When we get to the parodied melodrama, I had the sense of performances undercooked, with many among the ensemble overly projecting the stiff, stylized manner of performance of 19^th century theatricals. Still missing (Nagle excepted) is the spark of truth that lights up a caricature to make it funny and real despite its cartoonish elements. Let’s hope that improves with the run.

I also couldn’t help wondering about a central element of Frederica Nascimento’s scenic design, which has the action revolving around a bulky set piece that evokes neither any aspect of the Old South nor any reflection of the artist’s internal strife. Yes, it has doors and windows for the actors to dodge in and out of, but why such a dull heavy piece? It takes up a lot of space that the actors might creatively use for their antics.

My guest and I also speculated how effective it might be if those reactionary 40s and 50s cartoons were run prior to opening curtain as well as during intermission.

Sound designer Marc Antonio Pritchett effectively weaves the noxious notes of Dixie (“I wish I were in the land of cotton”) into the musical backdrop of the narrative. Costume designer Naila Aladdin Sanders and prop master Michael Allen Angel contribute effective period color. And as video master, Santiago, in tandem with lighting designer Derrick McDaniel, conjures a memorably fiery image to reflect one of the tragic threads in this story’s denouement.

The Fountain Theatre, 5060 Fountain Ave., Hollywood;. Fri.-Mon., 7 p.m.; (dark July 30-31 and Aug. 27-28); through Sept. 17. www.FountainTheatre.com; Running time: two hours and 30 minutes with an intermission.

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Kristina Wong for Public Office

Political comedy in a post-satire world

By Deborah Klugman

Performance artist and social justice crusader Kristina Wong has been delivering scathing satire to Los Angelenos for two decades, employing irony and wit to lampoon racism, sexism, and the do-nothingness of armchair progressives, among other targets.

Wong began honing her art as a student at UCLA. For her senior class project, she set up a fake mail-order bride website, Big Bad Chinese Mama, that catered to males looking to meet up with Asian women. Once at the site, men were rebuked and upbraided by Wong’s “Chinese Mama” and challenged by profiles of real women that belied the stereotype of the subservient female.

Over the years, Wong has made numerous appearances as “Fannie Wong,” an obstreperous beauty pageant contestant whose antics have served to satirize conventional beauty standards for Asian women. In Wong Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest (later made into a film), she sought to illuminate the pressures placed upon and subsequent mental health issues that these women wrestled with in their lives.

The Wong Street Journal, which debuted in 2015, poked fun at people who limit their cries against social injustice to messaging each other on social media. Wong, counting herself among them, wanted to do more, and undertook a 3-week stint with an NGO in Uganda, a country still suffering the aftermath of a horrific civil war in 2006. The tales she recounts in Journal underscore the cavernous divide between privileged Westerners and the Third World citizens she met there, who were barely surviving

Now streaming from the Kirk Douglas Theatre through November 29, Kristina Wong for Public Office builds around her experience as a winning candidate (and subsequent representative) for her local neighborhood council in Koreatown. Several years in the making, it comes contemporaneous with the affronts to democracy that Americans have been enduring since Trump’s taking office — outrages that have stirred many of us, artists and non-artists alike, to take action as we have not before.

Stage Raw spoke with Kristina about her newest work.

Kristina Wong for Public Office

All photos by Annie Lesser

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“We used to listen to politicians and laugh at comedians; now we laugh at politicians and listen to comedians.”  

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STAGE RAW: How was Kristina Wong for Public Office birthed?

KRISTINA WONG: There’s a quote that started going around after the November 2016 election: “We used to listen to politicians and laugh at comedians; now we laugh at politicians and listen to comedians.”  It hit me that the world had flipped upside down and the subversive way I used to address things as an artist weren’t working anymore.  If politicians were going to take my job as a spectacle-creating performance artist, I would take theirs. 

SR: How long have you been developing it?

KW: I was working on a couple of plays before the November 2016 election — not thinking that we’d be in the reality we are today.  Neither of the plays went to full production and didn’t feel satisfying to me because what was the point of making an absurdist play that basically said “Look how crazy the world is now” when we already know this about the world. 

I also had a reality TV pilot that didn’t go to series right when about Trump took office. A lot of what didn’t make the pilot successful was that the show I had pitched when Obama was still in office was about me as a wayward activist trying to stop political apathy.  That really wasn’t the case when Trump took office.  I wasn’t clear how to respond to the world as a once “wacky” artist anymore. 

I woke up one morning in late 2017 after reading about another devastating executive order Trump signed and said, “I’m going to run for office”.  That’s when it clicked that that was the approach I needed for this piece about this moment to work — to fully insert myself into politics. 

SR: When did you and your director Diana Wyenn begin to collaborate?

KW: Diana and I were Dandy Minions in Taylor Mac’s 24-Hour History of American Music in February 2018.  I had always admired her directing and how she’s able to work with performance artists, musicians and playwrights. There are so many directors who don’t do dramaturgy or just move actors around on the stage, and that’s never been useful to my process as I make a lot of my work in the rehearsal.  I turned to her in the dressing room and said, “Can we talk?”  And then she helped me put the show together for a June 2018 showing I had. 

SR: Did the substance of the piece change/was it impacted by events? 

The show premiered for a live audience in February. With the exception of a few sentences acknowledging the pandemic, the script didn’t really shift much at all.  This is surprising to a lot of our audiences who believe that the writing shifted to reflect the more apocalyptic circumstances [of today].… Nope!  I had written for that. 

SR: Do you see this piece as an extension of your prior work?

KW: Absolutely, every piece I do is definitely a conversation with the previous work I’ve made.  I had attempted writing two different plays addressing the strangeness of our times since the election events in 2016 but neither piece was really working.  Writing a play that pointed out “Look how crazy the world is” didn’t really seem that urgent.   

In most of my work, I play a character named “Kristina Wong” and report back on her misadventures in trying to save the world.  And in every show, I seem to get closer and closer to playing a version of her that is closer to who I am.  In each iteration, she has more and more impact on the rest of the world.  I know this sounds semi-delusional, but that’s the thread that connects my work to each other. 

SR: In the piece you talk about your experience as a member of a neighborhood council. How much of what you relate in the show actually happened? How much license did you take? 

KW: Everything in the show happened.  But because it is local government that I’m talking about, I edited out the hundreds of tedious hours of meetings and bureaucratic details that aren’t as interesting. 

Unfriendly Fire

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“In most of my work, I play a character named ‘Kristina Wong’ and report back on her misadventures in trying to save the world.” 

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SR: You also talk a little about being targeted by a white supremacist group.  Can you tell us a little about that?  Was it scary? 

KW: Was being targeted by white supremacists scary?  Um, YEAH!  In my show, I tell the story of how I got targeted by them in late 2018 when Radical Cram School, my web series for kids where I teach them about social justice and revolution.  The series was discovered by Alex Jones and other right-wing commentators and decried as “communist indoctrination for kids”. 

Essentially, for about three weeks, I was the target of a concerted “cancellation” effort by people who follow them.  They were pretty relentless and went through every commentable social media thing I had out there.  They spewed racist, violent, attacks on me. They called my agents, downvoted all my videos on Youtube, and made commentary clips on my work.  It was so bizarre because they seemed to really convince themselves that this web series was a real-life re-education camp and that somehow I was holding the kids hostage without their parents knowledge.  Um, how do you think the kids got to the set? And when are hostages this professionally lit?

It was totally terrifying because it didn’t go away even after a week.  I still have people from that world just discovering that web series now who send me scary messages.  But I guess it would be more concerning if white supremacists were fans of my work.

The Art of Infuriating Alex Jones

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“I kind of feel like this current political situation has killed satire for many of us who used to use it a lot.”  

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SR: Tell us something about the children’s web series you put together that inflamed Alex Jones. Is that ongoing? 

KW: Yes, Radical Cram School launched a second season in January.  We galvanized on the bad attention to do a really successful fundraising push.   My producing team and I have been exploring options to shoot more.  We were recently semi- finalists in the “Yes, And Laughter Lab” which focuses on comedy that forwards social justice where we got to pitch it to industry. We’ve been shooting bipartisan GOTV content with kids, some from the series, for an initiative called #HTownVotes. 

SR: You deal a lot with racism and sexism in your work. Have those themes evolved in your work? 

KW: I don’t know if they have “evolved” but I still deal with it and still find myself reporting on it in my work.

There was definitely a time when I thought if I made casual references to “rape” (ie “If you don’t recycle, you are raping the planet”) or “sexually harassing men” (ie “I’m sexually harassing Jeremy Lin so that I can empower Asian men”) that my audience would know that I was joking or being satirical. 

Now the current cultural climate around #meToo has made it pretty clear that audiences aren’t game for that humor.  So I find myself leaning less into satire [on subjects] that I assume everyone is on the same page about.  I kind of feel like this current political situation has killed satire for many of us who used to use it a lot.  

SR: Has your experience as an Asian-American performer changed at all? 

KW: I’m not sure how to answer this question because I know I’m in a very specific category of Asian-American performers who is able to makes her own autobiographical performance work and tour it, so my ability to work as an artist isn’t as limiting as say, an Asian American actor who is at the mercy of auditioning for roles for TV/ Film. 

For many years in my career, I had hoped that my original work would bridge towards more commercial success, and while I definitely have had more success commercially in the last few years, it’s become clear that relying on mainstream Hollywood to give me a platform to be an artist would be giving away all my power.   I will say that over the last ten years, I’ve grown personally as an artist and so have my opportunities to work and sit fully in my own voice.  So I feel confident that as rocky as this line of work is, that I’ll be able to keep putting one foot in front of the other and keep making art until I drop dead. 

SR: I first watched the show performed in your living room. What was that experience like? 

KW: At first it seemed daunting to invite people to see my house and also, be at full on performance energy inside my home, which is where I tend to loaf and sleep.  But it’s actually become quite normal, to go down to the living room, turn on the lights and get ready to perform for a computer. 

Diana and I reworked the show in August for the living room, and once I got my set hanging up in my house, it was easier for me to “click” into show mode.  

SR: In the show you pose the question:  Do I really think I can change the system by becoming the system? Do you have an answer? 

KW: I’m still wrestling with this as I decide if I am going to run for re-election in April 2021.  I run a sewing group called the Auntie Sewing Squad which has been sewing and distributing masks during the pandemic.  This group has been so effective in filling the aid gap that government has left behind.   

That said, as slow and seemingly ineffective as legislation can feel, it’s what we have to create structural change in this country. And I do think there’s a way that artists can learn to be artists who hold onto their voice and also work with this bureaucratic system. That’s where our creativity comes in. 

SR: What’s the main message you want the audience to carry away with them?

KW: Please fucking vote.  You may not like the options you have or think your opinion matters.  But just please fucking vote.  

KRISTINA WONG FOR PUBLIC OFFICE | Written and performed by Kristina Wong | Directed by Diana Wyenn | Devised by Kristina Wong and Diana Wyenn | Dramaturgy by Diana Wyenn | Scenic, Costumes and Props by Kristina Wong | Sound by Mark McClain Wilson

Kristina Wong for Public Office is filmed Live at the Kirk Douglas Theatre exclusively for the Digital Stage and presented in partnership with The Broad Stage

TOTAL RUN TIME: 75 minutes (pausable)

For tickets, visit https://www.centertheatregroup.org/digitalstage/videos/kristina-wong/

For more detailed information about the artist, please visit https://kristinawong.com/

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24^th Street Theatre’s Jay McAdams and Debbie Devine

Behind the Green Carriage House Doors

By Jannelys Santiago-Negron

This article is part of Stage Raw’s series on domestic partners who run Los Angeles-area theaters, on how they’re coping under a stay-at-home order, and what they envisage as a future, after the plague and in in the wake of the Black Lives Matter movement.

This particular interview is also part of the Z. Clark Branson/Stage Raw/Wallis Annenberg Center Grow@The Wallis Young Journalists’ Initiative, where the writer, Jannelys Santiago-Negron, is a Mentee. 

“The first step towards success is taken when you refuse to be a captive of the environment in which you find yourself.” – Mark Caine

Are We Having Fun Yet?

from 24th Street Theatre’s 2019 production of Dwayne Hartford’s THE MIRACULOUS JOURNEY OF EDWARD TULANE (courtesy 24th Street Theatre)

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“It’s dream-centered work, Devine explains, “[We have] an aspiration to be able to do it,  and let it be possible.”

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During these months of the pandemic, 24^th Street Theatre’s executive director Jay McAdams and artistic director Debbie Devine have been home a lot, being married and co-running a theater that focuses on youth theater – producing textured plays for young people – so sophisticated that they resonate with adults, too — couched in imaginative productions.

“It’s dream-centered work, Devine explains, “[We have] an aspiration to be able to do it,  and let it be possible.”

And yet, since their doors have been closed by the pandemic, the couple has never been busier – creating online talk shows and classroom videos, while teaching-artists have been doing online shows. They quip that sometimes they do wish they could go back to work so they can get some rest. Although they may drive each other a bit crazy, they have always been together to run the non-profit organization.

McAdams has been a producer of dozens of theatrical productions at 24^th Street over the past 20 years. He received the LA Weekly’s 2011 Production of the Year award for 24^th Street Theatre’s production of Arístides Vargas’s La Razón Blindada, and was selected by the U.S. State Department to serve as a Cultural Envoy to El Salvador.

Devine serves as the company’s artistic director. An award-winning and respected leader for over three decades, she chaired the Drama Department of the Colburn School of Performing Arts for over 35 years. 

Devine describes the constant work as  “asking for donations from foundations and individuals, and you are constantly running on a treadmill to keep it going, and it will be 24 years now of working together.” (A team of six runs the company.)

Part of the fun of being co-bosses together, they say, is how some of the theatrical teachers they educate in different workshops wouldn’t know that they were married.

Adds McAdams, “There aren’t a lot of husband and wife dentists, or husband-and-wife air conditioning repair businesses.”

The community at large, however, knows the couple well, along with their passion for bringing the community together, for, literally, opening their doors to their neighborhood.

The Big Green Doors

From when the doors were open, now a future aspiration (Courtesy 24th Street Theatre)

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Among their founding principles is to keep their doors open to the community. Before the pandemic, during the day, people would walk by and see the Big Green Doors open to the public, welcoming those who want to come in for complimentary coffee and snacks.

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Built in 1928 as a Carriage House, what’s now the 24^th Street Theatre was home to the working horses of the Grand Victorian homes near the University of Southern California. The building became home to the 24th Street Theatre in 1997, when McAdams and Devine opened it as a theater. Among their founding principles is to keep their doors open to the community. Before the pandemic, during the day, people would walk by and see the Big Green Doors open to the public, welcoming those who want to come in for complimentary coffee and snacks.

With the pandemic, however, they have adjusted and created a new online program, “Beyond the Carriage Doors.”

“We [local theaters] are all trying to do the same thing: We are trying to keep our audience engaged and bring new materials for the classes,” McAdams explains. They’ve done interviews with playwrights of children’s theater such as Mike Kenny, and they interviewed two city officials in the second week of unrest.

Theater as a Core:

Jesús Castaños Chima-and Tony Duran in the company’s 2011 production of LA RAZON BLINDADA (courtesy 24th Street Theatre)

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“At the Beginning of the play we would not be married, but at curtain call we would be married,” explains McAdams.  

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Not surprisingly, the couple met through the theater. McAdams was studying at the Academy of Dramatic Arts, a colleague (who had graduated) auditioned for Devine’s company, Glorious Players. McAdams explains that one day she called and said, “Hey I was telling my director about you and she said she needed another actor, get over here right now!

“I went over and auditioned and got the part” McAdams continues, before a smile spreads across his face. About ten years later, McAdams and Devine would start their own company. Their inspiration for founding 24^thStreet Theatre was that they had wanted to create stories that could enrapture the audience with a kind of child-like magic.

When asked about their marriage, McAdams said that they had gotten married in 1991, but that they had wanted to do something that no one had ever done before: to get married within a play.

 “At the Beginning of the play we would not be married, but at curtain call we would be married,” explains McAdams.  

The couple had written the play together, and planned for the wedding ceremony in Oklahoma. The catch was that they couldn’t find a preacher who would do it. (Those they approached thought it was blasphemous to wed in a play in a theater rather than in a church.) Eventually, they found a cooperative preacher – the chaplain at the local racetrack.

“Theater is in our core,” Devine says, smiling admiringly at her husband.

The Work of Sisyphus

WALKING THE TIGHTROPE, Mike Kenney’s play produced by 24th Street Theatre in 2013 (Courtesy 24th Street Theatre)

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“Like nearly all theatres, we are also standing in solidarity with the Black Lives Matter movement. We’re doing the self-reflection this moment in history calls for so we can do even more going forward.” McAdams says.

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AB 5 is now a California state law (as of January 1, 2020), directed at the gig economy but with repercussions for the arts. For instance, it mandates that all workers in a theater be designated as employees, all but eliminating the former designation of “independent contractors” for actors, designers and many theater staff. Theaters in compliance with the law have seen their annual budgets swell by up to 35%, mostly from the minimum wage requirements for all employees, compounded by the employee taxes that must be paid by the theaters to both the state and federal governments. (There are moves afoot by arts advocates to create an exemption for non-profit companies, such as live theaters. )

Do you have the confidence that the theater will survive the double blow of the pandemic along with AB 5?

“The theater or the marriage?” jokes McAdams, before turning more serious.

“It’s a present threat for the artists, since [theaters] weren’t going to be hiring for quite a while anyway, and their situations will be hard for them. The education, time, work, and the money needed for the actors to get where they were is going to take a significant toll on them.”

Still, the couple believes that their theater will survive. At a recent Center Theatre Group (CTG) panel, somebody had made the joke that theater people are cockroaches — hard to kill.

“Theater is about overcoming obstacles” Devine explains, “Storytelling only exists because there are obstacles in it. [Sometimes] it’s the [existential] threat that can give confidence to the directors and actors. It can be rent, actors, AB 5, but they prevail.” 

Through Covid-19, unemployement has shot up to 25% among those in the arts, and it has been a particularly brutal to theater communities across the country. But it’s also been brutal for many vulnerable populations – particularly seniors.

24th Street Theatre has been buying groceries for the people in the neighborhood. Recalling an experience the prior week, McAdams explains, “An old man had to get baby aspirin that he couldn’t get from Ralphs. The community knows that they can ask 24^th Street Theatre for help.”

In this regard, the 24^th Street Theatre is like a church, assuming the responsibility to care for those who are less fortunate, and in turn they receive gratitude.

Their signature slogan is “24th Street Theatre:. More than Just Plays.” McAdams explains.

“Like nearly all theatres, we are also standing in solidarity with the Black Lives Matter movement. We’re doing the self-reflection this moment in history calls for so we can do even more going forward.” McAdams says.

“One of the good things about being old, about being a theater for 30 years,” he adds (ten years at the Odyssey and at 24th Street for two decades), “it gives us a sense of stability.

“Even through the big recession of 2008 and  9/11 we were all wondering if life would go on, and it did change, and still went on. We are resilient as a tribe. . . Old theater couples are stubborn.”

Part of their stubborness is how their bond is unbreakable, and their determination to get past the sundry threats of the pandemic and the legislative challenges.

For those graduating from the school system into a chaotic, surreal existence, the couple leaves high school graduates with the following words:

“You’re not alone, the world always looks scary when graduating from high school, but it’s going to pass. Be strong.” 

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Tom Ormeny and Maria Gobetti’s Victory Theatre Center, by Dana Martin

The Grossmans’ Skylight Theatre, by Julia Stier

Julia Rodriguez-Elliott and Geoff Elliott: The house they built (A Noise Within), by Marlena Becker

Frederique Michel and Charles Duncombe’s City Garage, by Julyza Commodore

David Melville and Melissa Chalsma’s Independent Shakespeare Company, by Ezra Bitterman

Jack Stehlin and Jeannine Wisnosky Stehlin, and their New American Theatre; by Steven Leigh Morris

[ssba]

Tom Ormeny and Maria Gobetti’s Victory Theatre Center

A Family Affair
by Dana Martin

This article is part of Stage Raw’s series on domestic partners who run Los Angeles-area theaters, on how they’re coping under a stay-at-home order, and what they envisage as a future, after the plague.

Intimate Forever

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Says Ormeny. “In my secret inner life I was thinking that there would be a major disruption. And it’s here. The whole world has sat at home now for weeks now. You can’t help but reflect on your own mortality.”
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Maria Gobetti and Tom Ormeny are in this thing together. 

The Co-Artistic Directors of Victory Theatre Center (and long-time married couple) celebrate the 40th season of their acclaimed theater in the last place in the world they expected to be: at home.

This seems especially cruel since the couple strives to foster deep, personal connections to the by way of intimate theater spaces and an emphasis on closely shared experiences.

“It’s a family thing.” Ormeny explains. “It’s been intimate forever.”

The Victory was preparing to open the World Premiere of Jon Klein’s Love and Politics when lockdown orders came. The production was immediately halted.

“We closed before we opened.” Ormeny says.  “It’s the first time in 50 years for me that I haven’t opened the show. The set was up, we were going into dress rehearsals, we were ready to go. All of the sudden the rug was pulled out from under us.”

“It wasn’t even sad, it was like, surreal” Gobetti adds. “We lost tons of money, everything within a week. I have 5,000 postcards ready to go, just sitting in my office!” she laughs. “Thank God I didn’t send them.”

Although the Covid-19 pandemic has currently shuttered every theater in Los Angeles indefinitely, the couple remains cautiously optimistic.

“We do own the theater.” Gobetti states. “But we put a mortgage on our home in order to do it. We know some people that will lose their theaters because they cannot come up with (the money). I don’t think we’ll lose ours, I mean for a while. But no one lasts forever.”

“There’s an opportunity for an awakening.” says Ormeny. “In my secret inner life I was thinking that there would be a major disruption. And it’s here. The whole world has sat at home now for weeks now. You can’t help but reflect on your own mortality.”

A Political Backdrop

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“There were times when we’d be woken in the middle of the night by people pounding on the door. People would take [my mother] away and we didn’t know if she’d come back because the secret police were going to question her. Sometimes both [my parents], sometimes just her.”
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Gobetti and Ormeny are clearly partners in all things. They tell one another’s story as if it is their own. They speak for each other and take turns bragging about and praising one other. They have similar passions as theater makers and both have a long history in politics. 

Ormeny’s life has always been political and his theater roots run deep. Born and raised Budapest, Hungary, his father was Chief Engineer of the Hungarian National Theatre System and his mother was a famous actress.

“My mother was as recognizable in Hungary at the time as Elizabeth Taylor was here. She was one of the top stars. Starred in 36 feature films and was a member of the National Theatre. 

Ormeny recalls many times as a child having the secret police taking his parents away for questioning.

“There were times when we’d be woken in the middle of the night by people pounding on the door. People would take [my mother] away and we didn’t know if she’d come back because the secret police were going to question her. Sometimes both [my parents], sometimes just her.”

“My mother was politically very active and very brave. She saved her friends during the Nazi occupation and never joined the party when the communists came in.”

Maria Gobetti got a taste of political theater on a national stage at an early age. At age 15, she hosted a radio show and worked at a local Baltimore radio station, WCBM.

“I worked for a news editor at the time when they had news commentators in Maryland. He would take me with him to D.C. cover elections, things like that, though I was just a kid. I worked summers at the station and did I a radio show every Saturday. It was a real eye opener for someone who was 15, 16. So I did that until I was 18 and came out (to California).”

Westward Ho

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“We get along.” Gobetti says. “In business we work together well too. I open and he closes. We fight over things, but not over the theater. If I’m directing a play and Tom walks into the building I always go ‘Oh, good he’s here.’”
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 “I was always interested in plays, always in movies. I was always interested. I went to UCLA and got my M.A. there. Tom went to UCLA and got his M.F.A. We met in a Meisner class. Then we were in [Eugene O’Neil’s] Desire Under the Elms together and that was it. We just fell in love.”

“We had such chemistry onstage but we wouldn’t sleep together until the show was over.” Gobetti says with a laugh. “Can you imagine?”

Tom laughs. “We didn’t want to ruin the tension, you know?”

The couple moved in together shortly thereafter and worked many jobs to make ends meet.  They both waited tables and took sporadic acting work. They had several incarnations of acting studios, mostly in run-down buildings around Hollywood. In 1980 they bought a building on Victory Blvd. in Burbank and began renovations for a theater and acting studio.

From the very beginning, the Victory Theater Center has been a labor of love. One of Ormeny’s brothers, an architect, drew up building plans. Another brother helped with construction.

“It’s a family place” Ormeny says. “My father had just retired and was helping us. He built a lighting patch board that is still there to this day.”

The team was well into construction when they heard the first plane fly overhead from nearby Burbank Airport. It hadn’t occurred to them they were so close to the airport.

“We were in the middle of building when all of the sudden there was this sound. And a plane went by. We’d been there 6 times! It was the first time. I thought I was going to faint.” Gobetti says.

“We had to take everything down and soundproof everything.”

Victory Theater Center’s inaugural play was Beth Henley’s Miss Firecraker Contest. During the show’s run, Henley won the Humana Prize followed by the Pulitzer for her play Crimes of the Heart. The young theater company was thrust onto the scene. 

Over the past 40 years, Victory Theatre Center has produced over 100 plays, mostly new works; a remarkable and important feat.

“We’ve always been committed to originals.” Gobetti says. “We just love working with playwrights.”

Having lived and worked together for the past 49 years, Gobetti and Ormeny have clearly mastered the art of balancing one another.

“We get along.” Gobetti says. “In business we work together well too. I open and he closes.”

“We fight over things, but not over the theater. If I’m directing a play and Tom walks into the building I always go ‘Oh, good he’s here.’”

“Having your wife tell you what to do when you want to run your own process and she wants a result on the second rehearsal . . . there are difficult rides home.” says Ormeny.

“That’s not quite accurate.” Gobetti interjects. “I don’t want results right away. But I don’t want to wait until the very last minute.

“She pretty much has to wait until the last minute.” Ormeny replies.” I’m not an instant coffee kind of guy. It takes me time to put parts together.

Hanging in the Balance

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“Theater is not light entertainment. Theater is a challenge to reflect, and to enjoy reflecting. Every laugh in a theater is because that audience is surprised. Theater is here to surprise people. If you want to be surprised, you’re going to grow.”

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The couple now participates in weekly zoom gatherings. A project spearheaded by Skylight Theatre’s Gary Grossman, it’s comprised of 44 artistic directors from across the L.A. theater community, and it now includes two local support organizations: the Theatrical Producers League of Los Angeles and LA Stage Alliance. The plan is to form a united plan of action on how to deal with a wide variety of issues ranging from creating a united approach to re-opening theater spaces and practical thinking about how to safely distance an audience to addressing the recent AB5 law passed (independent contractors must be employees).

The Victory Theatre Center is currently producing an ongoing variety hour, Backstory, a bi-monthly evening of true stories, fiction and poetry via Zoom. They will also privately workshop Judith Leora’s new play, Heart Shaped Uterus.

“The theater can keep you company in a way that no other art form can.” says Ormeny.  

“Theater in the United States from the outset has been thought of as sort of light entertainment. Theater is not light entertainment. Theater is a challenge to reflect, and to enjoy reflecting. Every laugh in a theater is because that audience is surprised. Theater is here to surprise people. If you want to be surprised, you’re going to grow. I’m hoping there will be a whole new appreciation for that kind of event.”

Gobetti and Ormeny have plenty of time these days to re-imagine the future of L.A. theater and their place within the community. They continue to move their community forward, to unite and to lead, even if it means foregoing the intimacy of a shared space for the time being.

“I hope we can open again soon.” Gobetti states. “We need each other.”

The Grossmans’ Skylight Theatre, by Julia Stier

Julia Rodriguez-Elliott and Geoff Elliott: The house they built (A Noise Within), by Marlena Becker

Frederique Michel and Charles Duncombe’s City Garage, by Julyza Commodore

David Melville and Melissa Chalsma’s Independent Shakespeare Company, by Ezra Bitterman

Jack Stehlin and Jeannine Wisnosky Stehlin, and their New American Theatre; by Steven Leigh Morris

[ssba]

The Grossmans’ Skylight Theatre 

How Gary Grossman and Sandee Grossman navigate their way through a pandemic while trying to run a theater

By Julia Stier

This article is part of Stage Raw’s series on domestic partners who run Los Angeles-area theaters, on how they’re coping under a stay-at-home order, and what they envisage as a future, after the plague.

Love Story

Skylight Theatre has played a part in Gary and Sandee Grossman’s love story right from the very beginning. In a very LA-esque turn of events, the duo first met in 1986 at an acting class held at the Skylight. Now, the husband and wife serve as the Producing Artistic Director and Executive director respectively.

“We really haven’t gone too far,” Sandee jokes.

“We met at the Skylight Theatre,” Gary adds, “and we’ve been there for 35-plus years.”

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Julia Rodriguez-Elliott and Geoff Elliott: The house they built (A Noise Within), by Marlena Becker

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I sat down with the couple – via Zoom, of course – to discuss how they went from students at the a theater to running it, as well as the challenges of working with one’s spouse, and what theater will look like after the pandemic.

Silver Linings to Brutal Challenges

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“Maybe it sounds a little Pollyannish,” Sandee says, “but our approach is that in these challenges – and sometimes they’re kind of overwhelming – we are always looking for where the gift in it is.”

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Gary and Sandee are looking at the COVID-19 situation as just another challenge to take in stride.

A previous obstacle the intimate theater faced was battling the stage actors-managers’ national union, Actors’ Equity Association, to keep the Equity Waiver Agreement, which permitted union actors to be paid stipends for performances, rather than minimum wage for rehearsals and shows; this allowed for a decades-old workable compromise to provide actors with paid work in theaters of 99-seats or fewer, while not breaking the bank of producers in those theaters, where box office revenue is so constricted by the size of the theater. A sizable number of such theaters qualified for union-sanctioned workarounds, but not The Skylight. “And so we found another way to do it,” Gary says. “We said ‘that’s going to give us an opportunity to find young actors.’”

“Maybe it sounds a little Pollyannish,” Sandee says, “but our approach is that in these challenges – and sometimes they’re kind of overwhelming – we are always looking for where the gift in it is. Not just the opportunities, but actually looking at it as a gift, as something that that will take us in a new direction.”

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Frederique Michel and Charles Duncombe’s City Garage, by Julyza Commodore

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In this current situation, Gary and Sandee have identified that “gift” as being an opportunity to find new ways to provide their audiences with the Skylight’s specialty –new, fresh work that comments on the times.

“We work basically exclusively with new writers, and rising artists, and diverse artists. Most of the work we do has some kind of social content because writers write about the things that are affecting them,” says Sandee. “So when you’re doing that, and you’re dealing with people who have different experiences and different backgrounds, and they’re challenging you with their ideas, and words, and what they want to say . . . You have to stay fresh. You have to stay on your toes. It doesn’t really matter how old you are. You have to stay open.”

“It’s not like we’re reinventing ourselves,” Gary adds. “It’s more like we’re discovering new things about ourselves and we’re adapting to what’s going on.”

One way they’re doing that? Their weekly “Skylight Live” series – new plays created for the Internet performed live on Thursdays.

“What we’re doing is actually a little different. We’re not doing play readings,” Sandee explains. “We’re doing performances of original work created to be streamed.”

Each original piece is approximately 10-minutes long. The cast and director meet virtually to rehearse, and then the performance is streamed simultaneously on Facebook and YouTube.

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David Melville and Melissa Chalsma’s Independent Shakespeare Company, by Ezra Bitterman

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Gary adds that these plays open up discussions about the affects of living in isolation, social distancing, and having to rely on technologies such as Zoom for communication. As leaders of a theater company known for highlighting new work and writers, the couple is enjoying this way to showcase these voices. Gary says that theater that comments on the current times is in the DNA of what Skylight Theatre is about, and this new series allows them to do just that.

Damn Yankees and Blessed Angelinos

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In 1979, Gary made his way to Los Angeles during what he calls “the blossoming of LA theatre.” He describes the vibrant energy of the scene, dubbing it a hub for new creations. “It was growing and growing and growing, and so I became part of that movement.”

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Gary got his start in the theater early, acting in his father’s Men’s Club’s production of Damn Yankees as a child.

“I’ve been doing this since I was nine,” Gary says. “And that’s all I wanted to do. All I wanted to do was theater.”

Dedicated to a life in the arts, Gary says that he never wanted to do anything else. He proudly shares that he’s only ever had to hold two other jobs – he once worked as a shoe salesman when he was a teen, and he spent a stint one winter working at Abercrombie & Fitch over the holidays to earn some extra cash after their son was born, a fact which he and Sandee still laugh about today.

“And then other than that, I’ve been blessed to have a job either on camera, or behind the camera, or on stage,” says Gary. “So it’s been nice. It’s been a nice way to go.”

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Jack Stehlin and Jeannine Wisnosky-Stehlin, and their New American Theatre; by Steven Leigh Morris

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Gary trained in New York City at NYU. He went on to work at New York theaters, such as Café La Mama and The Public Theater

“Wait,” Sandee interjects, “you also owned two theater companies!” During his time in NYC, Gary ran dinner theater companies and a lighting company.

Then, in 1979, Gary made his way to Los Angeles during what he calls “the blossoming of LA theatre.” He describes the vibrant energy of the scene, dubbing it a hub for new creations. “It was growing and growing and growing, and so I became part of that movement.”

Sandee is a native to the City of Angels – and a third generation Californian.  She says she grew up learning to play the piano, and singing.

“I discovered performing, and started, like most of us, doing musicals. “[I] did a lot of different things, as well as [being] an actress.”

 Stairway to Heaven

The ensemble of Skylight Theatre’s BRONCO BILLY, THE MUSICAL (2019)

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“By that time, we were married, “ she says. “And I finally said, well, if you really want to [be Producing Artistic Director], you need to do X and Y. And he said, ‘well, if you know so much about it, maybe you should do it.’”

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How did they make the leap from being students to eventually becoming the Executive Director and Producing Directors?

 Sandee says that it was a slow transition. Gary had been working with the Skylight as a producer, and Sandee was involved on-and-off with the company. Eventually, by continuing in his role as a producer, Gary slowly rose to the rank of Producing Artistic Director.

Sandee came on as Executive Director a little later. “By that time, we were married, “ she says. “And I finally said, well, if you really want to [be Producing Artistic Director], you need to do X and Y. And he said, ‘well, if you know so much about it, maybe you should do it.’”

And the duo has been working as a team ever since.

Sandee and Gary agree that the hardest thing about working with one’s spouse in this capacity is too much togetherness.

“And this has just compounded it,” Garry adds, referring to their current situation of self-isolation.

“We spend a lot of time together, and we work a lot together as it is, and we’re really pretty comfortable with it, and pretty good at it,” Sandee shares. “I mean, there are the inevitable disagreements. We have different ideas about some things, but this is 24/7 – there’s no getting away from it. So, usually he goes in one room and I go in another one so at least we get some kind of separation.”

“And it’s a testament to our marriage as well,” Gary says. “We’re very good friends, extremely good friends, and we’ve been together and we love each other, and so that’s an understanding.”

That said, “We do battle a lot,” Gary says about their artistic ideas. “Our staff knows that, and we don’t hide it too much. But at the end of the day, we come to an agreement on how to handle it.”

Gary also says that one of the things that makes them a good pair, is Sandee’s honesty.

“When we got married,” Gary shares, “we wrote our own vows, and hers was, ‘I will only laugh at your jokes if they’re funny.’” He says that honesty of hers is something that carries over to her work as well. “She’s going to tell you where it is, and she’s going tell you how she feels, and so you trust that.”

“She makes me a better person. She makes me a better artistic director,” Gary says.

And while there may be challenges to working with a spouse in this kind of career, there are also a multitude of rewards.

The couple – who have a grown son (who’s about to get married!) – says that Skylight is like their other child. Gary says that one of the biggest rewards of working with Sandee is being able to look back at their work and say “look what we did. Look what we did together.”

Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow . . .

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“She makes me a better person. She makes me a better artistic director.”

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The movers and shakers of Los Angeles theater are already thinking ahead. Every Tuesday morning, artistic directors of companies all over LA hold a virtual meeting to discuss the future of live entertainment.

Gary says they’re going to be taking their cues from their audiences. They know people will need time to adjust to feeling safe in large groups again.

The collective experience of living through a pandemic may also change what type of shows, and the content of the plays that they produce.

“It’s going to be a very interesting time coming back to this,” Gary says. “How are we going to look at the environment? How are we going to look at things around [us], how are we going to look at our fellow men and women? How are we going to deal with that?”

How can theaters prep right now for this shift in programming?

Gary has his own answer: “Artists lead the way,” he says. “So if we’re going to lead the way, then we’ve got to look, and we’ve got to experience it.”

Despite the challenges that come from self-isolating, creating, and running a theatre company together, Gary and Sandee love the family they’ve created at Skylight Theatre.

“It’s great creating with your partner,” says Gary.

“We have a good time,” agrees Sandee.