Re-Envisioning the Visionary

The craziest thing about directing in community theatre is bringing together an unrelated, unfamiliar bunch of talented, creative, dedicated and concerned artists and entrusting them to change the world. The crazy part is not in trusting them to do so; the crazy part is in believing they actually can.

The Optimal Director: What To Do That Gets Results

Auditions for my next project, Mark St. Germain’s Freud’s Last Session took place this week. I plan to bring the show to the Rochester First Niagara Fringe Festival this fall. In addition to that, I am still smack in the middle of bringing one of my greatest triumphs as a director – Feeding the Moonfish, Winner, Best Short Production of 2014 at the Theatre Association of New York State’s Festival Competition – to the regional Eastern States Theatre Association ESTA Fest next month. 

[To help support our campaign to go to the AACT/ESTA Fest, please visit our IndieGoGo page.]

There are also two other projects heating up at our humble little black box theatre: an evening of original one act plays for June, and a delightfully irreverent comedy called Sordid Lives for July.

Never a dull moment for the Black Sheep!

And every time … every time … I start on a new adventure to direct a community theatre project, inevitably, either right after auditions or just before the first rehearsal, I find myself looking in the mirror and thinking (sometimes actually saying … out loud), WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?!?

Lately I seem to be going from one project right into the next, despite my continual promises to myself that as soon as this one is over, as soon as this one closes, I’m going to take a break.

And yet, I never do.

What is wrong with me?

It’s a Sickness … Or at least a Fetish

I’ve wrestled with this conundrum on and off for the better part of the past 10 years. Why do I keep coming back for more? It certainly isn’t for money, we all know that. It certainly isn’t for the glory, because the director never (well, hardly) ever gets to take a bow. I’ve given it a great deal of thought and I think I have an answer. Two things really.

First, it's nothing less than the love of Lady Theatre that keeps me going. She is my inspiration, my true love and my muse. She challenges me, comforts me, frustrates me, and even laughs at me. She sucks up my time and burns out my body. Yet my passion for her cannot ever be fully described. She has drawn to me the most wonderful, amazing, gifted and giving people: friends, lovers, sisters, brothers, confidantes, protectors, and guides. She is the work that makes my life worth living. I do have a job that feeds my bank account. She gives me the work ... that feeds my soul. I jump in and out of the director's chair, time and again, and it just seems that each time, after each fantastic, maddening, frustrating and exciting production run, I just can't wait to climb up into it again.

Second – and I am just recently coming to believe what I’ve been told time and again by those I admire, respect and love in the business – I guess I’m actually pretty good at it.

This has been particularly difficult for me to accept, because I truly believe the only thing I have a talent for is finding talented and amazing people with whom to surround myself, who can make me look really good. After all, I just do what comes naturally.

But lately, I thought that at least for my own sake, I might put a little more thought into it and try to figure out exactly what I’ve been doing so successfully for so long, that I’m fortunate to continually have that pool of talented and amazing people from which to select each new dream team.

It’s not brain surgery, to be sure. In fact, you may read these and see them as nothing more than pure common sense when working with community volunteers – especially artists, whose temperaments and egos, not unlike my own, can range from the fragile and sensitive to the downright overblown and exaggerated. Such is the human psyche. But there is a reason I share these things with you here and now. Remember: I’ve actually been told on more than one occasion that I may be pretty good at this.

Super Eight: Consistent Behaviors of the Optimal Director

So here are a few initial thoughts. Knowing me, as my work progresses, I will no doubt add to the pontifications below. At least perhaps, you might find something useful in these words.

Be open to others’ ideas. It’s important for a director to have a vision, but it’s equally important for her to remember theatre is –at its best anyways, should be – a collaborative art. You’re in the director chair for a reason. Your super-power (we all have them) lies in your ability to successfully bring a story from page to stage. So play to your strengths, but recognize and accept your limitations. It’s ok to ask for help when you aren’t the authority or don’t know the answer. The answer is out there; your job is not necessarily to know it, but to find it.

Find something to praise. This is something I learned and took directly to heart when I was first training as a manager in the corporate world. People like to know they are doing a good job. And they like to know exactly what they are good at. So be specific in your feedback. Don’t make the mistake of running your notes sessions in a “no news is good news” fashion, because if you do, you are shooting craps in getting the best performance out of your dream team. Like what you see? Tell them. Tell them early; tell them often.

Provide constructive alternatives to what you don’t like. There has to be something you didn’t like about the choice that was made or the result it achieved. Tell them what it was. And don’t ever do line readings, for godssake whatever you do!

Instead of giving a line reading, try this. Acting is the art of making choices. And choices that “work” simply mean that the intention matches the impact. So when I’m not getting the impact I want, I start by asking what the intention was. If the stated intention does not match the impact, then I’ll simply say, “I don’t believe you. Make me believe you.” And ask them to try it again. If the stated intention does match the impact, then I ask them to change the intent. “Try it this way,” I’ll say. “Try it with this intention instead.” It works. Every. Time.

I know there are directors out there who think line readings are the ultimate way to get what you want out of your actors. To them I say, if you are so bad at what you do as a director that the only way to get what you need from your actors is to give a line reading, then get out of the chair, put down your script, and go do a puppet show. Really. Do us all a favor.

Notice the details. We recently received some very positive feedback on our production of Later Life, by A.R. Gurney. The compliments were about the costumes: the fabrics, the patterns, even the accessories like jewelry and scarves, right down to the shoes. The shoes. This is attention to detail. But I’m talking about more than attention.

I’m talking about noticing. Feeding the Moonfish takes place in Florida. In a salt marsh. In the summer. Needless to say, it’s hot. There are maybe two or three lines in the show about being hot, and the characters are costumed appropriately. But these two actors do a marvelous job of acting hot. Consistently and throughout the entire play. That’s worth noticing. You can bet I noticed, and I told the actors, too, because it does as much for the story itself as it does to create the world of the play.

And that’s what theatre storytelling is all about. Believability, credibility and transporting the audience to another world.

Accept people on their own terms. A director is not a dictator. We give direction and guidance, it’s true, but we must also be open to the input and contributions of those we have chosen to work with.

That’s right. Chosen. Our actors choose to work with us by coming to our auditions. We choose who to work with through that audition process. And if you are lucky enough like I am to have a vast pool of perfect candidates from which to choose when casting my shows, you have the opportunity each time to create your very own Dream Team.

Don’t piss that away, and don’t ever take it for granted.

Actors have skills. They are there with you, working with you because they have talent, intellect, creativity, willingness to risk and most of all, they want to do the work. Let them.

Have a specific vision but be willing to re-envision. You can’t hit a target you cannot see. I remember this from my days as a leadership development trainer. Setting expectations early on in the process plays a vital role in getting what you want during the process and as an end result. But you have to lay it out.

Know the right questions to ask at auditions and ask them. Know what you want from your actors and don’t be shy about telling them. Communicate the vision. Set early expectations, yes, but be flexible when you can’t get exactly what you want. One of the most important responsibilities we have as creators of living art is to be open to the outcome, not attached to the outcome. Don’t get so buried in having your own way all the time that you miss out on some hidden or unexpected spark that can come from (believe me) anyone, anywhere.

Allow each person his or her own integrity. I put this one in here because of the many horror stories I’ve heard from actors about having to do or even wear something that made them uncomfortable or made them feel threatened. When setting blocking and selecting costumes (and a dozen other tasks we have as directors), I always –always –set my priorities at safety, comfort, performance, confidence. In that order.

Blocking, entrances and exits need to be safe. Costumes need to be comfortable … at least, reasonably so. And if they can’t be comfortable, steps should at least be taken to lessen the discomfort. Ice water and fans back stage when actors have to wear wool in the dead of summer. Heat or blankets when they are outfitted in beachwear in the winter.

And there’s one more thing worth mentioning here about costumes. An actor should always be consulted before being forced to wear something too risqué or revealing. Both men and women. I’ve had to deal with guys going shirtless and ladies wearing low cut tank tops, and I always, always asked before making the final decision, if the actor was OK wearing the thing in public. I let them know they could say “no,” and that other options would be explored.

We want to put on a good show, it’s true. But in community theatre, we also want people to have an enjoyable and rewarding experience with us, because –if you’re like me –you want them to come back and choose to work with you again.

Respect peoples’ time and talent. These are gifts they own and have chosen to give to you. Accept that, respect it and be damned grateful for it. Publish a rehearsal schedule and stick to it. Start rehearsals on time. Be flexible when you can and be clear early on when you will no longer be as accommodating. I generally tell my casts that the first few weeks of the rehearsal period, I will do my best to work around conflicts and last minute changes. People have families and jobs and that’s only fair. But I am also crystal clear to communicate that come “crunch time,” two weeks out and Tech week itself, YOU ARE MINE. I tell them to clear their calendars now and to avoid any potential conflicts as they come up.

These are not indentured servants, these are not employees. These are volunteers who are willingly and selectively giving up their time and lending you their talents … because they love the work. It is crucial to your success as a leader to recognize that and respect it.

In turn, you will earn their respect.

The Power to Change the World?

I have always looked at the job as director to be one of honor and privilege. It is a position of power and with it comes the commensurate responsibility. The responsibility to create an atmosphere of honesty, trust, mutual respect and support, and open communication. It doesn’t work if you don’t.

This is ensemble. This is together.

Live theatre is important work. It is worthwhile work, and adds value to the world. We’re not curing cancer. We’re not saving lives. But are we changing the world? I believe we are. At least, I believe we can. The power of live performance, especially theatre, does have the potential to change the world. Because when you bring together a group of passionate, considerate, dedicated, creative, trusting and caring individuals, you can expect miracles. Never doubt that such a group of people can truly change the world. Because when you get right down to it, it’s the only thing that ever has.

(Photo credits above, top to bottom: Photo by Paul Scheib, November 2014; Photo by Kristy Angevine-Funderburk, KFun Photography, The Sisters Rosensweig, April 2014; Photo by Marty Nott, Feeding the Moonfish, November 2014; Photo by Kristy Angevine-Funderburk, KFun Photography, Vincent, April 2013; Photo by Charlie Cooper,  Later Life, February 2015.)

[Diane Mashia has been recognized four times by the Theatre Association of New York State for Excellence in Directing. At the state-wide TANYS Festival last fall, her production Feeding the Moonfish was honored with Best Overall Production Design and Execution. Next month, Feeding the Moonfish will compete in the Eastern States Theatre Association Festival competition in La Plata, MD. Donations are now being accepted to help fund the project. To lend your support, please visit https://www.indiegogo.com/projects/feeding-the-moonfish-at-the-esta-festival.]