Extra Criticum

We're now one year into Pandemic Pause. Your laptop is your lifeline. Make peace with it.

We've now been living our lives on Zoom for a year. What does this mean?

Well, among other things, it means most of our interactions--social and professional--are governed by what the device we use to log in will and will not do. My students are playwrights, directors, actors, singers and filmmakers. All creative artists with professional goals for making important new work and sharing it with the world.

It's based on this last assumption that I offer up a few thoughts on your relationship to your technology, specifically to the device that is your portal. Because in the end, you may write the Next Great American [fill-in-the-blank] but if you can't manage to save it as a PDF and send it out into the world, well... a certain tree in a certain forest comes to mind.

1. 1. Zoom. I may have dissed Zoom in some other posts and of course I understand it's not the same thing as actual sharing of actual air space. But for now, it's what we've got. Learn how it works. Don't be the one kill-joy who arrives at the party asking where the drinks are. The bar is usually in the kitchen and the ice is usually in a bucket by the sink and glasses are set out beside the bottles. Help yourself. If you don't yet know how to mute and unmute, turn your video on and off, etc. etc. you have only yourself to blame. Zoom has not rearranged the layout of this party in 12 months. They have helpful tutorial videos at zoom.us. Find them. Watch them. Google some others. Know how to use the tools available.

More or Less... A Year of Challenges & Serendipity

My pants are all tight.

My neighborhood bodega has survived.

I don't sleep through the night anymore.

My notebook of tune ideas is full.

There are friendships I fear may be slowly disappearing.

I've reconnected with people I love in distant time zones.

Productions have stalled.

New voices have found me through Zoom.

My apartment's a mess.

I clean when I want to.

My dear friend has died.

We said what we had to.

I talk to myself prolifically.

I don't care if they hear me.

Tomorrow's uncertain.

Today's more alluring.

Reading Other People's Work Productively

Here's a confession. For years, with the exeption of a handful of favorite writers, when I would pick up a new script to read, nine times out of ten, I'd hate it. And it took me years of reading and hating to finally figure out that it actually wasn't true that nine out of ten scripts I read were awful. The problem was me. 

What I figured out (about a decade ago or so) was that if I open every script I read with a load of unconscious expectations that are based on my own personal style and approach, chances are my disappointment will come quick and forcefully. The silly thing is, I'm convinced many writers I know suffer from this same skewed view. 

Once I recognized that my frustration with many scripts had more to do with individual stylistic choices at odds with my own than with actual bad writing, I was able to relax and find much to admire in many of the scripts I read. 

What are these biases? It took me awhile to recognize them and there may in fact be more than the few I've been able to identify but I will list them here.

For Music-Theatre Collaborators, It's the Questions You Hardly Ever Think to Ask That Can Make the Biggest Difference

In a music-theatre context, there are a number of questions that must be answered before any song can be completed. Often when lyricists and composers collaborate on songs for a new show, these questions may be answered unconsciously or internally by each collaborator or not at all. If one person were writing a show all by herself, that might be just fine. But in a collaboration with one or two other artists, it’s critical that everyone on the team articulate these questions together, discuss them and come to agreement on each answer. If this is done before starting work on a given song, it can save everyone a lot of extra work, frustration and other unpleasant feelings. Take the time to be just a little bit pedantic when it comes to songs you’re co-writing for a new musical and you’ll be much happier with the results.

A note about these questions. Some concern lyrics. Others concern music. And others concern both. Some composers may read a few of these and bristle at the thought of opening such questions up for discussion with a lyricist. I’d argue that while musical decisions should be the final domain of the composer, talking about such things together will likely help the collaboration work in a more strongly aligned way with the overall story being told on stage. It may not be comfortable to talk about all these things right away. But give it a try. I think you’ll find surprising results await you if you come at it with an open mind and patience borne out of knowing you’re trying something new.

These questions are questions I’ve thought to ask in my own collaborations but it is probably not exhaustive. I encourage you to add a few of your own at the bottom to make this document an even more powerful tool for your own creative process.

10 thoughts after viewing all of the 20 SAG Award nominated film performances

1st in a continuing series

 

1. Diseases are like catnip to actors, especially if they can show the progression of the disease from health to illness. (Theory of Everything, Still Alice.)

A Playwright's Nightmare: Workshopping Albee & Ives to Death

Imagine for a moment if two of the most brilliant plays now running in New York by two of our most imaginative living playwrights--David Ives and Edward Albee--had been subjected to the sort of dramaturgical “help” most of the rest of us endure on a regular basis.

Here for your enjoyment are some imaginary notes given by some well-intentioned dramaturges during the developmental workshopping of Venus in Fur and Lady from Dubuque, which thankfully apparently they never endured.

Top 100 sitcom episodes of all time (a list in progress)

After months of bugging acquaintances for suggestions, I've finally started posting my list of the “100 Best Sitcom Episodes of All Time” at my personal blog. Each episode will get a separate blog post, counting backward toward No. 1.  A list of the programs revealed so far is here. 

I'll be posting the entire list at Extra Criticum, but please visit my blog if you're interested in the meantime. And I welcome comments from the insightful E.C. audience!

Here is the introductory post:

When I decided to make a “best sitcom episodes” list last year, I had two goals in mind. One was to make the case for the sitcom as an art form to people who were unfamiliar or dismissive of it. The second was to contribute to the making of a canon, or a consensus set of episodes that critics should be familiar with so that we have some shared points of reference.

The Top 10 Reasons to Support the Arts (from Artsblog.org)

By Randy Cohen, vice president of research and policy at Americans for the Arts, the nation's advocacy organization for the arts.

Ted Hope offers 35 ways to keep the faith

Ted Hope continues to offer wisdom, wit and encouragement to those of us still committed to creating truly independent film. Check out his 35 Ways to Keep the Faith in Truly Free Film, recently posted on IndieWire:

Every "No" bringing you that much closer to a "Yes"

This great post by Adrienne Crezo on the Mental Floss blog to cheer up any writer feeling overwhelmed by rejection this Holiday Season:

For writers, getting rejected can seem like a pastime. But don’t take my word for it, even though I’ve gotten my share of no-thank-yous. These best-selling authors were rejected, too, and some not very kindly. Editors, publishers and agents have made big errors in judgment, as evidenced by the list of unkind (and sometimes needlessly rude) rejections received by these famous writers. Full post here.

From a Pile of 45s to the Digital Playlist: My History of Music Curation

I miss playing music for other people. Sure, my love of listening to music was a major driving force in seeking a career in the music industry, but for me, music is not only to be received, but also to be shared.

And since I have no great musical talents of my own - despite a year of French horn, the praise of my grandmother during piano lessons, and chorus roles in several high school and college musical theater productions - I can only share other people's music.

Hospitality Among Presenters: Extinct? or Dying? You Decide

Whenever an artist is invited to present work at a venue, there's an opportunity on the part of the presenter for making someone feel special with very little effort. To some presenters this comes naturally. To others, not so much. Here, in random order, are some of the things I feel every presenter, curator, producer or host ought to think about before they invite us to screen, perform, talk or appear.

The Minimal Inflection Approach (M.I.A.) to Acting - I don't get it

There's a style of acting that sprang up about 20 years ago as far as I can tell and I just don't get it. I call it the "Minimal Inflection Approach," or M.I.A. for short because often when watching one of these actors, one has the sense that a part of their soul is just that: M.I.A.

You all know what I'm talking about. They speak their lines in a virtual monotone (i.e.with minimal inflection) and I suppose we are expected to project whatever we like onto them but as far as I can tell, there ain't a lot going on up there. Here are three examples of actors who seem to appear this way in every role they play. Care to expand the list?

Desert Island Discs

It's rare that any of us would ever actually be stranded on a desert island, but for some reason, we humans love to make lists in anticipation of such an event.

This weekend, I am moving into a spare room in an apartment in Astoria, Queens, which - after nine years of living alone in a studio apartment - might as well be a desert island.

I planned to put most of my stuff in storage, and give the rest away, a purging process that has been more than difficult. When choosing what to keep and bring with me, I thought it might be nice to bring my remaining vinyl records and my stereo rack system with turntable. I liked the idea of playing records in Queens, alone in my room, desolate, lonely, longing.

But still, I couldn't put all of my CDs in storage. After 13 years of working in the music industry, and having inherited my father's penchant for record-shopping, I've got a lot of CDs. So I allowed myself to cherry-pick the few discs that I absolutely cannot live without, for however long I will be in that month-to-month living situation in Queens while I look for a job (or a life) elsewhere.

I figured I'd take about 30 discs with me.