china dispatch #8 - play is the thing
Catherine and I have just had a fun weekend. We danced and clubbed and clubbed and danced till the wee hours Friday night, arriving home at dawn; Saturday we did a few errands and I went out with the cast of our play to have Mexican food (while Catherine went home to rest but ended up waiting outside our building — I had inadvertently kept the keys); Sunday we ate and shopped and talked and discovered interesting stuff about each other and ourselves in exploring our Myers-Briggs profiles.
But the main thing this weekend, the thing so many of its events were tied to, was the play. For the past several weeks, I've been involved in a production by a small theater company. It was a comedy purporting to be a reality show for theater, pitting environmentalists against industrialists. Apparently they'd gone through several actors for the part of the show's host; eventually a colleague of a colleague gave me a call and asked if I'd be interested.
It ended up taking tons of time (and quite a bit of money), but the result was something really fun. Theater is a great way to plug in to a lively community of creative and fun-loving people. The rehearsals and performances were at a dance club, which converted easily into an intimate theater space with nice lighting and decent acoustics, and a bit of off-hours revenue for the owners. The club is on the edge of a lovely lake toward Beijing's center. You walk through an old-fashioned hutong and round this corner and through that narrow alley, and suddenly you're looking out onto a beautiful scene, with old fishermen sitting and young couples perching and little kids running and a shoreside restaurant here and an old monastery there: it was just a pleasure to go there day after day.
I knew that it would be a fun project but I was unprepared for the feeling I got during the performances. Though most of the characters interacted with each other and with me, most of my part of it was directly addressing the audience. There I was, standing in front of a crowd of sixty or so people who were ready to be entertained, inspired, or informed. I'd say something mildly funny, and let a laugh bloom, or tilt my head a bit and wait for it to catch on and grow into a bigger laugh; I'd use my hands and feet and face to get a reaction. I'd stand by and watch as the other actors — all good comics and ensemble players — did the same thing with each other and with the crowd. And of course behind it all was a serious message about making the world a better, less messy and filthy place.
Man.
It's been well over a year since I've done that. It was gratifying. There's a very real appetite in me that only that kind of thing can feed — and a very real skill that has gone unexercised. Three performances. I could have done a hundred.
But the main thing this weekend, the thing so many of its events were tied to, was the play. For the past several weeks, I've been involved in a production by a small theater company. It was a comedy purporting to be a reality show for theater, pitting environmentalists against industrialists. Apparently they'd gone through several actors for the part of the show's host; eventually a colleague of a colleague gave me a call and asked if I'd be interested.
It ended up taking tons of time (and quite a bit of money), but the result was something really fun. Theater is a great way to plug in to a lively community of creative and fun-loving people. The rehearsals and performances were at a dance club, which converted easily into an intimate theater space with nice lighting and decent acoustics, and a bit of off-hours revenue for the owners. The club is on the edge of a lovely lake toward Beijing's center. You walk through an old-fashioned hutong and round this corner and through that narrow alley, and suddenly you're looking out onto a beautiful scene, with old fishermen sitting and young couples perching and little kids running and a shoreside restaurant here and an old monastery there: it was just a pleasure to go there day after day.
I knew that it would be a fun project but I was unprepared for the feeling I got during the performances. Though most of the characters interacted with each other and with me, most of my part of it was directly addressing the audience. There I was, standing in front of a crowd of sixty or so people who were ready to be entertained, inspired, or informed. I'd say something mildly funny, and let a laugh bloom, or tilt my head a bit and wait for it to catch on and grow into a bigger laugh; I'd use my hands and feet and face to get a reaction. I'd stand by and watch as the other actors — all good comics and ensemble players — did the same thing with each other and with the crowd. And of course behind it all was a serious message about making the world a better, less messy and filthy place.
Man.
It's been well over a year since I've done that. It was gratifying. There's a very real appetite in me that only that kind of thing can feed — and a very real skill that has gone unexercised. Three performances. I could have done a hundred.
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