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      Filming Eugene O’Neill When the Elements (and Investors) Don’t Cooperate

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      Starring Jessica Lange and Ed Harris, Jonathan Kent’s adaptation of “Long Day’s Journey Into Night” started production, only to lose key financing.WICKLOW, Ireland — “Strong winds, gradually subsiding” read the call sheet.Jessica Lange, Ed Harris and Jonathan Kent, the director of the forthcoming film version of Eugene O’Neill’s “Long Day’s Journey Into Night,” were standing in a rehearsal room here in early November, listlessly running through lines. Harris, playing James Tyrone, an aging former matinee idol, touched his toes and did squats as he spoke, while Lange, playing his fragile, morphine-addicted wife, Mary, flitted distractedly around the room.Producers and assistants, phones glued to ears, bustled in and out, anxiously monitoring the stormy weather that prevented the cast and crew from heading to the set: a house modeled on the Monte Cristo Cottage in Connecticut, the seaside home of O’Neill’s family that provides the setting of this autobiographical play. The go-ahead came several hours later. The shoot finished close to midnight as Kent and the cast tried to push through the day’s packed schedule.It wasn’t the first storm the production had weathered, literally and metaphorically. One day after filming began on Sept. 19, the lead producer, Gabrielle Tana, discovered that their biggest chunk of financing had fallen through. “I had to go to the set and tell them we were shutting down,” she said.On location in Ireland, the Tyrones’ home is based on Eugene O’Neill’s seaside family home in Connecticut.Patrick RedmondTana (whose credits include “Thirteen Lives” and “The Dig”) said it was one of the worst moments of her long career. “I let them know I wasn’t giving up, and was already in conversations with investors,” she said.During the nail-biting weeks that followed, she spent endless hours in meetings trying to drum up the money. Remarkably, the cast — including Ben Foster and Colin Morgan, playing the Tyrone sons — as well as most of the crew and production team, never wavered in their commitment to the project. A handful of staff members, including the director of photography and some production design workers, weren’t able to stay with the production. The rest waited it out in this coastal region about an hour south of Dublin.The Projectionist Chronicles the Awards SeasonThe Oscars aren’t until March, but the campaigns have begun. Kyle Buchanan is covering the films, personalities and events along the way.Meet the Newer, Bolder Michelle Williams: Why she made the surprising choice to skip the supporting actress category and run for best actress.Best-Actress Battle Royal: A banner crop of leading ladies like Michelle Yeoh and Cate Blanchett rule the Oscars’ deepest and most dynamic race.‘Glass Onion’ and Rian Johnson: The director explains why he sold the “Knives Out” franchise to Netflix, and how he feels about its theatrical test.A Supporting-Actress Underdog: In “Everything Everywhere All at Once,” don’t discount the pivotal presence of Stephanie Hsu.“We were shocked at first, of course,” said Lange, who played Mary Tyrone in 2000 in London, and won a Tony Award for the role in a production directed by Kent that transferred from the West End to Broadway in 2016. “But never once did we think it wasn’t going to happen. We just hung in, went to the pub, took long walks. We really became friends and cared deeply for one another, because we were going through the same thing.” She added, “I think that in some way it added to our intensity and passion for doing this.”Three weeks of waiting to restart, Harris said, allowed him “to sit back, think about the character, calm down, and just be this dude rather than worrying about playing such a classic, important role.”The actors also made calls. Foster made a connection to the British theater producer Bill Kenwright, who had worked with Lange on productions of “Long Day’s Journey,” “A Streetcar Named Desire” and “The Glass Menagerie” in the West End and on Broadway.Ben Foster, left, with Colin Morgan, helped make calls when crucial financing fell through.MGM“I knew we would figure it out,” Foster said. “If we had to do it as a sock puppet show, we’d do that till we raised the money.”The sock puppet show was averted; Kenwright came through. “He was our knight in shining armor,” Tana said. A few other knights had to be found too, including the film producer Gleb Fetisov.First adapted for the screen in 1962, “Long Day’s Journey” is Kent’s debut feature. “This is, probably, the greatest American play, the invention of the dysfunctional family drama, and when you do it in the theater, there is a sort of reverence from the audience,” Kent said. “I thought that perhaps with film, one could shred that reverence a bit and allow its rawness and immediacy through.”Then he factored in current events that coincided, like the opioid epidemic and the coronavirus lockdown. “Here are these four, addicted not just to drugs and alcohol, but to each other, endlessly going over the past, the missed opportunities and failure, trapped in a house by the sea,” he said. “Somehow it felt resonant.”Lange said that she and Kent first talked about a film version during the Broadway run. “I immediately thought, yes!” she said, adding that Mary Tyrone “gets under your skin like no other character I have ever played; you never come to the end of it. And because of the nature of filmmaking, there is so much more subtlety that can be brought to light: the expression in the eyes, the subtle shift in the voice.”Tana first heard about the idea when the actor Ralph Fiennes, a friend of Kent’s, asked her to help with the project, which is scheduled for release this fall. She was intrigued and engaged the Pulitzer Prize-winning playwright David Lindsay-Abaire — his “Good People” had been directed by Kent — to adapt the drama, which needed to shrink from an almost-four-hour theatrical event to an under-two-hour film.“There was never an agenda of ‘Let’s improve this,’” Lindsay-Abaire said in a video call from New York, adding that there isn’t a word of text in the film that wasn’t written by O’Neill. “It was the opposite: Let’s maintain what we love while telling the story in a different medium. It wasn’t using a machete as much as a scalpel. We took the dramatic Hippocratic oath: Do no harm to O’Neill!”Film, he pointed out, has communication tools that the stage doesn’t have. “You can sometimes replace four lines with a close-up,” he said. “We kept asking, does the character need to say that, or can they just act it?” He and Kent also discussed ways to make the drama more cinematic, by withholding some information that O’Neill reveals early. “Ghosts, hauntings, what is Mary doing up there? We wanted to lean into some mystery, to hint at things and reveal them more slowly,” Lindsay-Abaire said.Ed Harris joined the production when Gabriel Byrne had a scheduling conflict. Jessica Lange first discussed the idea of an adaptation when she performed the play on Broadway.MGMGabriel Byrne, who had starred opposite Lange onstage, was slated to reprise the role, but he fell out due to scheduling conflicts. Tana emailed Ed Harris, who had appeared with Lange in the movie “Sweet Dreams” almost 40 years earlier. He said yes immediately. “As tough as it was when the money fell out, it was the most rewarding film acting experience I’ve had in quite a while,” Harris said. Kent, he added, “gave us the freedom to just be those people — that it wasn’t a sacred text, that this was about human beings, not a dried-up historical piece.”Kent said that he had considered updating the 1912 setting, but had decided that too many fundamental details would have to be altered. Still, “to the designer’s chagrin, I asked that the costumes not be too ‘period,’” he said. “Whatever the setting, the text makes it a living, contemporary thing.”Two weeks of rehearsal before the start of the shoot allowed the four main actors to begin to build a family dynamic. “I immediately fell head over heels for my parents,” Foster said, adding that he had brought some foraged greenery from the actual Monte Cristo cottage as a talisman.“The rehearsal time was all about finding out what might work for character,” Morgan said. “A director who isn’t as theater-versed as Jonathan might work out camera angles first, then what the character does within. But I think the best directors work so that the camera is actor-led, and that’s how Jonathan approached it.”Then, almost immediately, came the hiatus and a roller coaster of emotions. “The bonding of that time was actually wonderful,” Foster said. “Historically I don’t socialize a lot with fellow actors. But in this case, it really did become a family.”The difficulty of making the film, Tana said, is indicative of the changing cinematic landscape. “It’s really hard now to make this kind of literary, straightforward, old-school independent movie,” she said. “There is so much value to this: these great, great actors doing a great American play that every kid studying literature will be able to watch. But it’s a sea change moment in our field in the way we access content, how it is monetized, where the resources are.”Kent agreed that the film goes against the current grain, but added: “We all have mothers, fathers, our terrible sense of failures and disappointments and guilt. I think what we crave from film or theater is truth about our human experience. There is an audience for that.” More

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      ‘The Immortal Jellyfish Girl’ Review: A 26th-Century Love Story

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      Featuring a lobster telephone and a robot boy with wings, this puppet romance set in a future post-ecological collapse succeeds on its own weird terms.The first time Bug and Aurelia kiss is as romantic as can be, even if Bug has to get past his initial reaction. “That really hurts,” he says. “That stings so much!” Which is what you get when smooching a part-jellyfish humanoid.Aurelia is the title character of “The Immortal Jellyfish Girl,” though if 23andMe still exists in her postapocalyptic world, it might locate traces of kangaroo, frog, naked mole rat and other beasties in her makeup. Above all, “she is also 100 percent puppet,” as the narrator, a mischievous masked fox in shorts and red tails, informs us.Kirjan Waage and Gwendolyn Warnock’s play, devised with help from the ensemble and presented by Wakka Wakka Productions and the Norwegian company Nordland Visual Theater at 59E59 Theaters, is indeed a puppet show, and an ambitious one at that. It’s not just that the story is set in a poetically rendered 2555, but that Waage and Warnock, who also directed, blithely ignored the memo about coddling young audiences: Their show, for viewers age 10 and up, does not shy from the violence and death intertwined with life, and indeed several characters meet a tragic ending.We are on a future Earth that has been wrecked by ecological disaster and where humans have evolved into two groups at war with each other: the machine-enhanced Homo technalis and Homo animalis, who are mixed with animals. If you have any kind of familiarity with stories of star-crossed young lovers, it won’t come as a surprise to learn that Bug (voiced by Alexander Burnett at the performance I attended) is part of the first group while Aurelia (voiced by Dorothy James) is an Animalis. And not just any Animalis: She has the ability to generate polyps that grow into various animals, thus providing a ray of hope for a dying planet. The Fox (Waage) explains that “she is the first living DNA bank in the world.” (The title is inspired by the so-called immortal jellyfish, a real species that somehow can age in reverse.)As if ecological devastation weren’t enough, Bug and Aurelia must also deal with the machinations of the disembodied Technalis ruler, Doyenne, a featureless head floating above her lair.Like the earlier Wakka Wakka/Nordland collaboration “Baby Universe: A Puppet Odyssey” (2010), the production revolves around environmental concerns, which it mines with humor, emotion and storytelling verve — the Fox is prone to breaking the fourth wall and making jokes aimed at the adults in the crowd. (“Where are the clones? Send in the clones.”)Admittedly, it’s not always easy to follow, and the action hits some confusing potholes near the end, but “The Immortal Jellyfish Girl” does create an eerie, slightly morbid universe packed with bold strokes: a Lovecraftian squid and a lobster telephone that could have been dreamed up by Salvador Dalí; Bug suddenly sprouting a pair of wings from his back; Aurelia surrounded by odd animal forms floating in individual tanks. The sonic imagination is just as refined, with the composer and sound designer Thor Gunnar Thorvaldsson consistently delivering an array of expressive effects — he digitally assembled prerecorded vocals into a composite to create Doyenne’s voice, for example. Even if you can’t figure out what the heck that prophecy is all about or what’s meant to happen to Earth at the end, the show succeeds on its own weird terms.The Immortal Jellyfish GirlThrough Feb. 12 at 59E59 Theaters, Manhattan; 59e59.org. Running time: 1 hour 20 minutes. More

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      Review: ‘Drama,’ at the Volksbühne, Contains Many Things. But Drama Isn’t One.

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      The choreographer Constanza Macras’s new work at the Volksbühne is a chaotic revue featuring dance, slapstick, spoken dialogue, pop music and heavy-handed monologues.The last thing the Volksbühne Berlin needs is more drama. That might sound like an odd thing to say about one of Germany’s most important theaters, but in recent years the company seems to have had all the histrionics it can take.It has been struggling to regain its artistic footing after the dismissal of its longtime leader Frank Castorf, in 2017, to make way for Chris Dercon, a tony Belgian impresario who didn’t last through his first season. Then Dercon’s replacement, Klaus Dörr, stepped down before the end of his term, after women in the company raised allegations of sexual harassment.When René Pollesch, one of Germany’s most acclaimed dramatists and a veteran of the Castorf years, was installed as artistic director in 2021, it was widely hoped he would be a purveyor of both stability and artistic excellence. However, Pollesch has struggled to restore the Volksbühne’s reputation as one of the most groundbreaking in Europe.Since Pollesch took the reins, the theater’s program has been a hot mess, with critical pans and poor box office returns. Against this background, it seemed inauspicious that the Argentine choreographer Constanza Macras titled her latest work for the theater “Drama.” The show had its premiere Thursday, and will run in repertory at the theater for the rest of the season.“Drama” is not a straightforward dance piece. Instead, Macras and her 10 performers — drawn from her own company, Dorky Park, plus some guest dancers — serve up a disjointed revue that is about theater itself, in the vaguest of senses. How is it that actors reciting lines written by someone else — often at a remove of centuries or millenniums — can ring true to audiences nowadays? Will they in the future? Using dance, movement — including Buster Keaton-esque slapstick — spoken dialogue and pop music, primarily in English and German, Macras’s intrepid and indefatigable troupe sets out to investigate.In the show’s opening minutes, Macras gives us a potpourri of Shakespearean scenes in a jittery pantomime. Toward the end, we get a three-minute version of Sophocles’s “Antigone.” In between, she treats us to a series of goofy scenarios, including a particularly zany one without dialogue, in which the dancers become life-size Playmobil figures with their helmet-like wigs and stiff limbs.In a zany scene from “Drama,” the players perform jerky movements, dressed as life-size Playmobil figures.Thomas AurinIn that scene, the performers’ controlled, jerky movements are impressive. Elsewhere, the cast display some startling physical feats. The most gob smacking is when the hunky dancer Campbell Caspary walks down a flight of stairs on his hands.The 10 performers that cavort across the large stage pretty much nonstop for two and a half hours are striking dancers, although the results are far more mixed when they are called on to recite texts or sing. With gusto but varying levels of musical skill, they belt out pop anthems backed by two onstage musicians, and when the entire cast launched into “I Sing the Body Electric,” from the 1980s musical “Fame,” joined onstage by a local amateur choir, that gaudy number felt like the show’s grand finale. Alas, we were only halfway through.As the evening wore on, cast members launched into heavy-handed soliloquies about cultural appropriation and artists’ poor pay. (“Dance is so intersectional,” is the worst line in a script with no shortage of clunkers.) Occasional self-deprecating references to the show’s own sloppiness come across as an unconvincing tactic to forestall criticism.From left: Caspary, Bas and Shoji in a musical number from “Drama.”Thomas AurinTaking in the entire spectacle is like following a sloppy brainstorming session through to its illogical conclusion. So why should we be surprised when Macras gives us a late-evening history lesson about Nélida Roca, the Argentine “vedette,” or showgirl, who held Buenos Aires enthralled from the 1950s to the 1970s. The real disappointment is that the burlesque show that follows is curiously low on razzle dazzle, despite all the feather headdresses and tassels.Here, as elsewhere in “Drama,” Macras’ choreography lacks distinction. It was deflating to watch the dancers give their all to exertions that hardly seemed worth the energy.As a chaotic vaudeville featuring dance, music, slapstick and confessional monologues, “Drama” bears more than a passing resemblance to Florentina Holzinger’s “Ophelia’s Got Talent,” a revue featuring an all-naked female dance troupe which is one of the Volksbühne’s only box office hits this season.Macras doesn’t go in for the shock tactics that are Holzinger’s stock in trade, but she still appears to take a page from the younger and more transgressive practitioner of dance theater. There’s even a monologue about suicide that will sound familiar to anyone who has suffered through “Ophelia’s Got Talent.” And although it’s blessedly shorter, “Drama” is similarly meandering, and feels endless.After two and a half hours, “Drama” leaves one exhausted, not exhilarated. It’s made up of many — far too many — ingredients, but drama isn’t one of them. More

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      Review: A Far-From-Revolutionary ‘Danton’s Death’ at the Comédie-Française

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      A passé take on Georg Büchner’s 1835 play about the French Revolution leans into the worst instincts of the Comédie-Française, our critic writes.It was a surprising oversight in the centuries-old repertoire of the Comédie-Française, France’s foremost theater company. Until now, it had never performed Georg Büchner’s 1835 “Danton’s Death,” arguably the best-known play set during the French Revolution.A new production by the French director Simon Delétang tried to right that wrong this week, but it may have come too late. Given the Comédie-Française’s affinity for prestige period dramas, the feuding revolutionaries of “Danton’s Death” should be an easy fit. Yet Delétang, who was until recently the director of the indoor-outdoor Théâtre du Peuple in the Vosges Mountains, plays into the company’s worst instincts, with a staging that eschews historical insight for endless grandstanding in front of candelabras.The Comédie-Française’s actors undoubtedly look good in knee breeches, but you’d be hard-pressed to know what they, or Delétang, make of the revolution, based on this production. Part of the issue is that, from a French perspective, Büchner’s play feels dated. Büchner, a German playwright, wrote it at age 21, using the historical sources available to him in the 19th century.The result, which is laced with literary references, dramatizes the rivalry between two revolutionary leaders, Georges Danton and Maximilien Robespierre. Formerly friends, they are at odds when “Danton’s Death” starts, at the height of the Reign of Terror, in 1794. In the play, Danton is as hedonistic as Robespierre is inflexible; Robespierre is also ready to sacrifice anyone to the virtuous new republic — starting with Danton, whose relative moderation he has grown to despise. These are undoubtedly meaty roles, and other important historical figures make appearances, including Louis Antoine de Saint-Just and Camille Desmoulins.In true 19th-century fashion, “Danton’s Death” is a clash between “great men,” heroes and antiheroes, who frequently launch into lyrical monologues about blood and death. Yet much work has been done in France in recent decades to examine the blind spots of this narrative, including the oft-forgotten role of women during the revolution.There are only a handful of women in “Danton’s Death,” and when they appear, they talk about men, or listen to them. That’s hardly surprising, because Büchner was a writer of his time, but Delétang appears uninterested in finding an angle that might resonate with current audiences. Even the people — so central to the revolution — are excluded from his production: Aside from a few supporting actors appearing at a window, there is no sense of a popular uprising.A number of French directors have done great work to remedy some of these biases, starting with Ariane Mnouchkine, who focused on the people’s role in her play “1789,” which premiered in 1970. More recently, Joël Pommerat’s plainclothes “Ça ira (1) Fin de Louis” (“It Will Be Fine (1) End of Louis”) captured the events of the early years of the revolution in all of their messy complexity, down to town-hall-style debates, with actors positioned in the auditorium as if audience members were 18th-century citizens, too. It was such a success that it toured for seven years, from 2015 to 2022.Loïc Corbery, who plays the title role in “Danton’s Death.”Christophe Raynaud de LageIn the wake of these works, Büchner’s Danton, a drunk with a death wish who wallows in self-pity and ends up guillotined, is hardly captivating. It doesn’t help that Delétang cast one of the Comédie-Française’s heartthrobs, Loïc Corbery, in the role. Danton, a lawyer by training, was notoriously unattractive after catching smallpox as a child and having his face mauled by a bull. Corbery is much too smooth and seductive a presence; it’s as if Timothée Chalamet turned up to play Winston Churchill.Opposite Corbery, Clément Hervieu-Léger is prissy and repressed as a bewigged Robespierre, with a dancer’s ramrod posture throughout. Guillaume Gallienne makes a suitably scary Saint-Just, and Gaël Kamilindi is a highlight in the role of Desmoulins, here a youthful dreamer whose life is cut short alongside Danton’s.The action takes place almost entirely in a cold semicircular room designed by Delétang himself, which stands in turn for a bourgeois salon, France’s revolutionary assembly and a prison. “Danton’s Death” culminates with the appearance, center stage, of a gold-rimmed guillotine that is almost as high as the walls around it. No heads roll onstage, but by that point, over two hours in, you just hope it ends the proceedings swiftly.“Danton’s Death” isn’t the first misfire on the biggest of the Comédie-Française’s three stages, the Salle Richelieu, since the company’s return from its pandemic-enforced break. And while a company director, Éric Ruf, has done much to work toward greater diversity since his appointment in 2014, men continue to dominate main-stage programming. Out of 12 productions this season, only four are directed by women, and no works by female playwrights are scheduled.On paper, it makes sense to have “Danton’s Death” in the Comédie-Française repertoire. After all, the company’s own history is tied to France’s fluctuating political governments, and some actors from the (formerly royal) troupe barely escaped the guillotine. But in Delétang’s passé production, the past never speaks to the now. More

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      Interview: Returning To The University of Colloquium

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      Katherine Stockton and Sean Bennett talk about Colloquium

      Back in July we had a wonderful and insightful chat with Katherine Stockton about Colloquium, her play that explores the lives of stuffy Professors, pompous Candidates, and struggling Students, all suffering under the regime of pressuring higher education. Since then the play has had a rather successful run at Camden Fringe (see our four star review here), undergone some rewrites, played a few additional dates and is now on its way back, first to Sewell Barn Theatre, Norwich and then Queen’s Theatre, Hornchruch.

      So it seemed a good time to sit down with Katherine once more to ask about the play’s journey since last July. And this time we were joined by producer Sean Bennett to help out.

      We originally spoke last July just ahead of Camden Fringe, how did you feel the festival run went?

      Katherine: The Camden Fringe was a great step in the writing process for me. Fringe slots usually allow for an hour-long show, which was a great basis for expanding into the 95-minute production we are currently showing. One of the best things about the Camden Fringe is the opportunity for my emerging actors to display their talents – and I have a fantastic cast that deserve that stage time.

      Sean: Fringe runs are always an intense process, but the cast and crew really pulled it out of the bag. Moving from theatre to theatre allowed us to explore different staging, different movements, and generally put the play through its paces and learn as we went along.

      The result? A range of great performances with some really positive audience and critic reviews, not to mention an OffFest nomination to boot. Of course, there is always room to improve and we will be taking everything we have learnt into our next performances.

      Given that the play is coming back in 2023, we assume there was plenty of positive reactions then?

      Katherine: Our run had great reception from agents, critics, producers and, most importantly, the general audience members. Getting a great review is one thing, but it will always pale in comparison to the sound of an audience enjoying themselves in the moment.

      Sean: Productions of this play have been going, in one form or another, for almost five years now, so we have built up a healthy backlog of reviews and reactions. Each time a run ends, we have taken advice and criticism on board, made changes, and gone into another run, each one receiving better reactions than the last.

      Our Camden Fringe run was by far our most successful run to-date, with healthy attendance, plenty of reviews, and lots of positive reactions. There are still some changes to be made as we head towards our 2023 shows, but we were overwhelmed by the support and congratulations we received in 2022, so weare confident that our audience this year will love what we have to offer.

      What did you learn from the Camden Fringe run then? And has that led to further changes?

      Katherine: Absolutely. We had responses that responded very strongly to the dialogue and intellectual debates, but less so about the overarching structure of the play. This was partly due to the hour slot we had to work with. Since, I have been able to write 35 minutes of new material that addresses this issue. I believe I have been able to construct a well-balanced play that ties up all its ends.

      Sean: Colloquium is a play that, at the very beginning, started out as a pretty comedic piece. Over the years, it has evolved into more of a drama with comedic elements. Reviews and feedback from Camden showed us where that arc hasn’t quite been perfected yet, with some changes from funny to dramatic being quite stark and sudden. The script has therefore been changed to account for this and hopefully give audiences a smoother experience of the story line, ensuring they stay enthralled from beginning to end. Our staging, too, has been tweaked based of some critics’ suggestions, adding to the realism of the piece and ensuring that nothing happens on stage that could distract audiences from the story.

      Theatre, in the end, is a collaborative process. Not just between actors, producers, and directions, but also between the production and it’s audiences and critics. They want to see the best bit of theatre they can find, just as we want to give the best performances we can. Learning from each other is what makes great theatre, and so that’s what we have done.

      You also did some dates later in 2022, where these always part of the plan or did they come about from Camden Fringe?

      Sean: A mix of both. As the play gained more recognition, theatres started to approach us with dates and performance offers, but some of the shows later in 2022 had already been set. This gave us the opportunity to put our learning from the Fringe into practice quickly, while it was all still fresh in our minds, and the minds of audiences and critics.

      And how much will have changed by the time the play hits the stage again in February? Are you constantly rewriting sections?

      Katherine: The show won’t feel like a brand-new play. The six characters: the retiring professor, the ambitious second-hand man wanting his role, the Eton boy, the Welsh applicant out of her depth, the struggling PhD student and the PhD student who refuses to engage with the world of Oxford in a way that will ruin her – they will all still be there. But the writing has been workshopped and had many eyes on it, so it will be a perfected and expanded version. I think it is important for developing writers to always be editing.

      You were meant to be taking the show to the drama school at UEA Norwich, do you feel the play’s themes are perfect for taking to other universities?

      (Due to issues with the venue at UEA the show has now moved to Sewell Barn Theatre)

      Sean: Even though Colloquium focuses on Oxford University there are elements in the story that are applicable across all higher education settings. Anyone who has been to university, or is there now, will see parts of their own experience reflected on stage, so we’re confident that all university audiences will enjoy the play and resonate with it.

      Katherine: This show speaks to any person who has suffered from the hoop-jumping regime of further education. The show was also first staged at UEA, so it was going to be a homecoming for me and other UEA alum’s on the cast.

      And then it’s down to Queen’s Theatre, Hornchurch, how did these dates come about?

      Sean: Our actors are spread across London and the East of England, so the Queen’s Theatre in Hornchurch was initially a rehearsal space that we used due to its geographic placement between our two camps of performers.

      We loved the space, and the theatre in general, and our director has worked there before and was keen to utilise the space as a venue for performances rather than just rehearsals. Based on these existing relationships with Queen’s, we were offered the chance to perform there and jumped at it.

      Is it the same cast for the 2023 dates? Does changing actors alter the play in any way?

      Sean: Small changes have been made to the cast in 2022 and 2023, mostly due to actors finding other employment or due to schedule clashes. This is the nature of Fringe Theatre, and we knew this going in. However, the core of the play has always been consistent due to the majority of the cast staying the same and the steady guidance of the director and writer throughout all runs.

      Characters change when a new actor takes on a role, that is unavoidable. But it’s also a good thing. Every time a new actor has joined the cast, it has been a positive experience for the play, without question. The key is that we always ensure that our audition process is rigorous and that there are always plenty of rehearsals for new actors to find their feet, embed themselves in the story, and bond with the existing cast.

      Katherine: I love and admire the actors we have kept, but a new actor can bring in a whole new energy to the production, and find new ways into the text. It’s fantastic to have new blood. We also have an excellent director, Molly, who folds any new cast member well into the net of our show with ease.

      Do you see Colloquium being developed further throughout 2023? Or do you feel it would have reached a point that you want to move on to a new project after all this time with this one?

      Katherine: I can’t really let go of the play. I am very emotionally tied to both its characters and themes. And I am passionate about the fact that it speaks to an experience of British culture that isn’t addressed by another great play that we have currently; the University interview experience. So, I will be sticking with this project and developing it – potentially with a regional tour.

      Sean: Colloquium has developed a lot since its first run, and we intent to give it a long life past 2023, hopefully being published and moving into long-run or touring professional productions. This is a play that we believe would resonate with audiences up and down the country, and so we would like to test that theory in the coming years.

      New projects are being talked about, as eventually the time will come for Colloquium to get published and released into the world for other casts and companies to license and perform. But, for now, we’re focusing on perfect our lay during 2023 and making it the best it can be, and putting it in front of as many audiences as we can.

      Thanks to Katherine and Sean for their wonderful insight into what it’s like to further devleop a play in this way.

      You can catch Colloquium at Sewell Barn Theatre, Norwich (3 & 4 February) and then Queen’s Theatre, Hornchurch (26 & 27 February). Further information on these dates and to keep up to date with any further dates, check out Katherine’s website here. More

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      When Monsters Make the Best Husbands

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      “Frankenstein’s Monster Is Drunk and the Sheep Have All Jumped the Fences” and “Heaven,” two plays in Origin’s 1st Irish Festival, offer two very different views of marriage.The monster is nestled in a glacier when the villagers dig him out, frozen but not dead, because he was undead already. Tall, broad-shouldered, hulking in his platform boots, he is instantly recognizable, and once he thaws, proves unpretentious despite his Hollywood fame.It is 1946 in a tiny European village, and he is the most endearing of monsters: awkward, uncertain, just wanting to help out. And in “Frankenstein’s Monster Is Drunk and the Sheep Have All Jumped the Fences,” a winsome cartwheel of a show that’s part of the Origin Theater Company’s 1st Irish festival, he finds lasting romance — with a local outcast who falls in love with him at first sight. Never mind that by his own account he is “constructed from the dismembered body parts of a number of different corpses”; their sex life is fabulous.Written and directed by Zoë Seaton for her Big Telly Theater Company, from Northern Ireland, this quick-witted frolic is adapted from Owen Booth’s short story of the same name. On the smallest stage at 59E59 Theaters, with a nimble and inventive cast of four, it is a fast-moving comedy that dares to tip into poignancy.The soulful, well-meaning monster (Rhodri Lewis) and his brisk, nameless wife (Nicky Harley) spend years finding a way to fit into their tiny village, whose populace is represented by the much-doubling Vicky Allen and Chris Robinson. With a large wooden cupboard as the movable centerpiece of its no-frills set (by Ryan Dawson Laight, who also designed the costumes), the play is the story of their marriage: passion, heartbreaks and all. Also mishaps — inevitable where a slightly bungling monster is involved.“One day he gets drunk and manages to lose her entire flock of 63 rare Italian blue sheep,” Robinson tells us, in narrator mode. “They spend years arguing about that.”With a dreamy, heightened air abetted by the lighting (by Blue Hanley and Sinead Owens), the play has tender depths. The monster and his wife can’t have children, and this grieves them terribly. But they get on with life, and with loving each other. And in their imaginations, they create together a whole secret world.In “Heaven,” Andrew Bennett plays a married man who fantasizes about a young man who looks like Jesus.Ste MurrayA very different kind of marriage awaits audiences at Eugene O’Brien’s two-hander “Heaven,” also part of Origin’s 1st Irish at 59E59. So does a helpful glossary of terms, stapled to the one-sheet program. “On the todd” means single; “up the duff” means pregnant; a “ride” is having sex; and so on.Mairead (Janet Moran) and Mal (Andrew Bennett) have been married for 20 years. In their 50s, the parents of a 19-year-old daughter who has never gotten along with Mairead, they haven’t slept together in quite some time. Still, Mal says: “We are the best of pals.”Back in Mairead’s hometown for a wedding, she kisses an ex-boyfriend — one of many she had before settling down with Mal, who lately has taken to indulging sexual fantasies about Jesus that he first had as an altar boy. A young man who looks like Jesus is a guest at the wedding, and now Mal has fantasies about him, too.Directed by Jim Culleton for the Dublin-based company Fishamble, “Heaven” is constructed as a series of alternating monologues by Mairead and Mal, narrating their alcohol- and drug-fueled adventures over the wedding weekend.It’s a well acted, reasonably entertaining play. But while “Heaven” might appear at first to be interested in shaking up the status quo, it turns out to have a drearily conventional spirit, certainly where Mairead is concerned.As the play nears its end, she makes a U-turn away from her own desire, abruptly keen instead on inhabiting one of the most selfless and desexualized of female roles. It’s an out-of-nowhere switcheroo, and it feels utterly imposed.Even so, O’Brien’s final line is perfect — in a shaggy-dog-story way.Frankenstein’s Monster Is Drunk and the Sheep Have All Jumped the FencesThrough Jan. 28 at 59E59 Theaters, Manhattan; 59e59.org. Running time: 1 hour 15 minutes.HeavenThrough Jan. 29 at 59E59 Theaters, Manhattan; 59e59.org. Running time: 1 hour 30 minutes. More

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      Review: ‘Not About Me’ Remembers Decades Shrouded by AIDS

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      Eduardo Machado’s autofictional play follows the playwright’s alter ego as he navigates gay life in the 1980s and ’90s.It’s one thing for a new show to take place, for the most part, in the downtown Manhattan of the 1980s and ’90s. It’s another to make audience members feel as if they are watching it contemporaneously: Eduardo Machado’s “Not About Me,” which just opened at Theater for the New City, could have been airlifted wholesale from that era.For New York theatergoers who lived through those times, the occasionally ramshackle acting and the endearingly primitive projections make for an experience akin to stepping into a hot-tub time machine. Younger people might think they have chanced upon a diorama of vintage East Village theater. Everybody is likely to agree that the eye-searing abundance of ill-fitting pants is pushing verisimilitude a pleat too far.The protagonist and narrator of “Not About Me” (take that title with a grain of salt) is a Cuban-born gay playwright named Eduardo (Mateo d’Amato) who bears a striking resemblance to Machado, a Cuban-born gay playwright. This autofictional bent is par for the course for an artist who has long drawn on his own story. Eduardo is even married to a Harriett, as Machado was in real life for nearly 20 years — “your wife who you have always made an offstage character in all your plays,” according to one of Eduardo’s friends, Frank (Ellis Charles Hoffmeister).Machado has acknowledged that “Not About Me” was prompted by the arrival of Covid, which reminded him of AIDS, “the first pandemic of my generation,” as Eduardo puts it. The show, which the playwright also directed, starts in the mid-1980s, when AIDS was still thought of as “the gay disease.” Dancing and cruising in clubs, Eduardo and his buddies are at first oblivious to the new viral threat, then mildly worried, then terrified. Complicating matters, he thinks of himself as bisexual. Eduardo spends most of the show flirting with men, especially Gerald (Michael Domitrovich, with whom, in another example of a real-life connection, Machado collaborated on the memoir “Tastes Like Cuba: An Exile’s Hunger for Home”), and going through an obsession with a troubled, temperamental actress named Donna (Heather Velazquez). He gets flak from both sides, as when his friend Tommy (Charles Manning) jokes that Eduardo should write a play titled “How to Go From Bisexual to Gay When It’s Convenient for Your Career.”Eduardo is almost always portrayed as the object of everybody’s desire, including, in a more platonic way, another actress, the Los Angeles-based Marjorie (Sharon Ullrick, stepping in for Crystal Field at the performance I attended). They are rehearsing a short Tennessee Williams play whose feverishness reflects Eduardo’s approach to life — swashbuckling, peacockish, omnivorous. More important, Marjorie has cancer, and Eduardo must learn to accept her looming death.The play can never settle on a tone, and many scenes land askew, teetering uneasily between earnestness and flamboyance — it often feels as if dramatic ones are played for laughs, and vice versa. It’s also never quite clear whether Machado, with cleareyed honesty, deliberately paints Eduardo as somewhat ruthless and a narcissist (after learning two of his friends have died, he wonders, “On my 40th birthday?”) or if he’s oblivious to how his alter ego comes across. This tension between intention and lack of polish — the show does not feel like it’s been workshopped to death — at least makes “Not About Me” stand out.The play slowly makes its way through the decades and ends in the present, with another pandemic that both crushes and spurs Eduardo. “To write, or not to write, that is the question,” he asks. Let’s rejoice that he chose to write.Not About MeThrough Feb. 5 at Theater for the New City, Manhattan; theaterforthenewcity.net. Running time: 2 hours. More

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      Interview: Delving into the darker side of hospitality

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      Lia Burge on her Vault Festival show, Crying into Bins

      Our latest interview for the upcoming Vault Festival is with Lia Burge. In February Lia is bringing her show Crying into Bins to the Festival, which is all about working in hospitality. The show is a spoken word performance full of the horrors Lia has seen first hand. We’re sure it’s one that will resonate with many people who have found themselves in the service industry at one time or another, and even if you don’t have that experience, we reckon it could be a real eye opener! If nothing else, we reckon you should go just to find out about the Margaret Thatcher memorial dinner!

      Crying Into Bins is playing 11, 12 and 18 February and you can book those tickets here.

      Crying into Bins is quite the title. What was the inspiration behind it?

      My friend had a full-on nervous breakdown at the end of a shift one night – just cracked. She was fingering béarnaise sauce out of ramekins into a food waste bin at the time (an activity anyone who’s worked in hospitality will recognise with a withering groan). The next think we knew she was on the floor sobbing, shaking – the works. It was simultaneously one of the funniest and most disturbing things I’ve ever witnessed. 

      And what can people expect if they get along to see the show in February?

      Something a bit different in terms of style I think. Somewhere between theatre and spoken word poetry. In any case, plenty of laughs and a lot to think about. I wrote it to offer a bit of catharsis to hospitality workers, and to explore how working in service can change and shape you as a person. 

      So, is it all based on things you really saw and experienced whilst working in hospitality or have you used some creative licence to embellish a few events?

      There are things in the piece that people will think I’ve made up. But I’m sorry to say that every single story, quote and moment of Crying into Bins is true and happened either to me or one of my colleagues.

      Care to share any of the real horror stories you experienced then which we might hear about in the show?

      If we’re talking tangible horror, my first thought is the time a pigeon got into the venue and was shot down with a BB gun just before the guests arrived. Its blood and guts smattered over 1500 champagne glasses we’d just laid out to pour. But if we’re talking psychological horror, I’ll just say these four words: Margaret Thatcher memorial dinner… You’ll have to come to the show to find out what happened with that one.

      Is it your first time performing in something you’ve written then? What made you decide it was time to write your own show?

      It is. I’ve been avoiding the obligatory ‘one woman show’ for years. I love being in a company, and I could never seem to write a decent play anyway, so it never appealed. But when I got into spoken word in 2018, I found a format that made sense for the way I write, and people really seemed to respond to the way I performed my poetry. It’s just storytelling really, but it has an extra bit of magic that brings it to life. I realise now all the training and my experience with Shakespeare and modern rhythmical plays must have sunk into my soul over the years!

      We’re big fans of spoken word – do you feel this is a theatre genre that is getting more popular at the moment?

      I do think spoken word is getting more popular, and it’s a real mixed bag out there. There are incredible life changing poets like Salena Godden and Kae Tempest, and then there are just people getting up and speaking their truth into a microphone. The latter isn’t often high art, but I think it’s popular because it facilitates creative expression. I’m sort of playing around with the standard ‘spoken word’ delivery and pushing back a little against the penchant poets seem to have for trying to imitate Kae – who is extraordinary… but inimitable. I love poets who use their own voice to tell their story – that’s what’s interesting to me. 

      You have taken part in Hammer & Tongue’s National Slam competitions. What are they then and how does taking part in those compare to putting on your own show?

      Well, a poetry slam is where competitors have three minutes to speak their poem – no singing, no props, no music. Usually the audience will be doing the scoring, so whether you win or not can have a lot to do with who’s out there! For me, it all started by accident when I told a poet friend of mine a story about an unfortunate toilet accident on the back of a horse during the Euros in 1996. She said “that’s a slam winning poem, write it!” I wrote it, I won my first slam, and then I was off! There is of course something more terrifying about getting up there as yourself as opposed to a character in a play. But once you’ve done your bit you can sit down again! Putting on your own show is a massive pressure in so many ways, but I’m looking forward to bringing the two worlds together and seeing what happens.

      Are the Vault dates the first outing for the show or have you been testing it out elsewhere?

      I’ve tested out bits and pieces at poetry nights and at a brilliant scratch night called Scratch Meet in Brighton, which I highly recommend. To be honest I did it to get my friends off my back about writing the piece in full, but the response was great – I think that’s because so many people have worked in hospitality over the years, which makes it highly relatable.

      And as the show is about hospitality, when you are a big star of the stage what would you like included in your own rider?

      Hahaha! I’m not sure… sparkling water? Whatever it was, I’d thank the person who brought it to me effusively.

      Thanks to Lia for taking time out of her day to chat to us. Crying into Bins plays at Vault Festival on 11, 12 and 18 February, at 3.10pm each day. More information and bookings can be found here.

      You can also keep up to date with Lia and hear about forthcoming shows via her Twitter account here. More