(BACK) 

From Issue #4, Winter 2004
The Politics of Readers Theatre
by Mary McDonald-Lewis
Co-Artistic Director
Readers Theatre Repertory
Portland Oregon

Readers Theater is a wonderful medium for children¹s tales, and sweet stories of love and laughter. We¹ve gone further with challenging adult stories, some pretty dark. Audiences have responded warmly, and enthusiastically.

But, could we stage controversial political Readers Theatre successfully? Or, would it scare off our demographic and set back a company that¹s taken us three years to build?

Readers Theatre Repertory is housed in an intimate art gallery in Portland, Oregon. The gallery is the city¹s oldest artist collective, with different groups of two or three artists exhibiting their shows every month.

Every month the art show is different, and every month, on some level, we as a theatre company must respond to that: by blocking our shows around the art, if it is sculptural and takes up floor space; through our design of entrances and exits, using the collective¹s moveable walls (and the paintings on them) creatively; and by treating the art as set pieces. Sometimes a canvas is a window to the busy street below, other times a painting of a flower vase is treated as actual blooms in a home, imagined on a sideboard or dresser. I recall a watercolor rendering of a tea set on one wall referred to when one character invited another to tea, and our real cups and saucers became part of the larger image just behind it.

All of these opportunities have allowed us to expand our simple theatre, which is comprised of the gallery floor, the three large moveable walls, two benches, two chairs, some white rectangular pedestals of varying heights, and four black stools and music stands. To these few pieces we add light, sound effects, music, some scant props, minimal costumes, creative audience seating (traditional rows, in the round, at a diagonal, randomly chaotic - we¹ve done all that and much more!) and the stage is complete. Of course, a great story must lie at the heart, or all the bells and whistles in the world, or lack of them, will not make viable Readers Theatre.

In early January we learned that the artist hanging his show in April, Harry Widman, had themed his exhibition "Greed, War and Deception," designed to be a scathing condemnation of the Bush administration. As a company we don¹t have a political position, but we had an idea.

What if we held a play writing competition to respond to Widman¹s art in some way, and then staged the winners? We had legitimate worries. though. We might put off our audience. We might not get enough play submissions. We might offend the artist, or the gallery. Worst of all, we might fail dramatically, with poor works that neither entertain, nor reflect Widman¹s show.

We persevered, however, believing that if we dedicated ourselves, we would have a good chance of staging something deeply exciting and profoundly legitimate. But the stakes were high, as disaster was also a possibility. We were willing to bet on the idea, but losing the gamble would be a tremendous setback.

Using our local theatre chat list, a call was put out to the play wrighting community, detailing the competition, and inviting all interested to a meeting with Widman and RTR. Eight playwrights joined us at Blackfish Gallery on January 20th, where Widman showed slides of his work, and talked about his vision for the art show. The writers asked questions, and we shared the perimeters of the plays they could submit: the shows had to suit the simple space; they had to be no more than 20 minutes long; they needed to rely on ideas rather than effects, large casts, elaborate sets, costumes, or props. Most of all, the stories had to respond to Widman¹s show. We made sure the playwrights understood that it didn¹t matter if they agreed or disagreed with Widman, that RTR wasn¹t demanding a particular political position from them, but rather whatever personal reaction they wished.

There was no pay involved other than royalties of $15 per play, per performance for the ones we selected to stage. Deadline for submission was March 1st, just over a month away.

By deadline we had ten plays to consider. One or two playwrights chose not to submit, and others, who did not meet Widman at the gallery, did. A few submitted more than one play.

Out of the ten, we would use no more than 5, depending on length.

March 15th was the company¹s deadline to read all the plays and vote for their favorites. As we worked on this, we also cast and prepared to mount our production of Brian Friel¹s Lovers: Losers, set for March 14th and 15th (we always stage Irish theatre in March.) To say we were busy is an understatement!

Of the plays, two or three just weren¹t good theatre. Another one or two were off topic, which brought us down to six or so to choose from. As we began to juggle the shows, it soon became apparent that certain plays "wanted" to be staged with others. There was a way to build the evening logically, ways the shows fit together, that eliminated the last few that just didn¹t work with the arc of the production.

Becoming a Bag Lady, by Ginny Foster, is the story of an elderly woman who fears her thrifty habit, and poverty, has turned her into a bum. Ellen West¹s My Hat tells the tale of a mother and daughter isolated from a perceived enemy, and what happens when one is encountered. Behind Enemy Lines, written by Ebbe Roe Smith, is the fever dream of a traumatized soldier, and Francesca Sanders¹ Uncle Dickie¹s Funhouse is a crazy carnival of a kid¹s TV show, featuring Dick Cheney as the host, with special guest George Bush appearing as a sock puppet.

We had our plays, which in total produced just over an hour of storytelling. We called the project The State of the Union.

I was the director of two plays, my colleague Jamie Miller two. Casting was completed, with 8 actors filling the roles. There was a bit of script doctoring to do between March 15th and April 4th, our first table read, with the playwrights eager to oblige. Press releases were shipped to our usual media outlets, and the local Pacifica station, intrigued by the concept, invited the artist and me to appear on its theatre program to talk about the show. Another P.R. windfall: one of the cast members is a producer for a Clear Channel radio station. He cut a :30 PSA about the show and shipped it to Air America, now broadcasting in Portland, where it ran 31 times.

We had our traditional two rehearsals, attended by the playwrights and artist Harry Widman. Our sound designer, company member Bob Martin, suggested that we have no music between plays, except for the transition from the horrifying Enemy Lines to the satirical Uncle Dickie, and that instead of our stagehands changing the sets, we use the actors from each play to set the scene for the play following it. The silence and smooth transitions, with no interruption from outside the world of the plays, would create a seamless "whole" of an evening. Jimi Hendrix¹s "All Along the Watchtower" would cap off the night as curtain music.

We were ready, or as ready as we could be. Recalling our earlier concerns, we wondered: this was Easter weekend. Are we going to enrage our audience with these inflammatory plays? Would they work as theatre as well as amplification of Widman¹s art?

Reservations started coming in, via phone and website (readerstheatrerep.org). Folks were even calling the gallery, which directed them to me (I¹m also the company box office!) When we set out our chairs on April 9th, there weren¹t enough. We added more, and that Friday we had 43 in a house that usually holds 30.

On Saturday, we had 57.

Standing room only!

On both nights, after the show, the audience refused to leave, but engaged in passionate conversation with each other, the playwrights, the artist, the actors, and the company. Instead of our usual 30 minute strike, we were there for over an hour! Some people found Enemy Lines offensive. Others felt it was tragically accurate, and asked for a copy of the script. One woman approached playwright Sanders, and about Uncle Dickie said, "This is the first time I¹ve been able to laugh, thinking about September 11th. Thank you," she said, with tears in her eyes, "Thank you."

One thing was certain: no one left without a strong opinion of the evening.

Lessons learned? Don¹t be afraid to take a controversial stance and stage it. Make sure it¹s a powerful story, not political polemic, and works as a play alone, separate from its position. Trust that the audience appreciates challenging theatre, that they hunger for it, in fact.

Future plans? To see what is being exhibited next season, and determine if we should produce another show in response to it. We¹re also considering an Original Oregon Playwrights¹ month, with a specific month in the Spring always reserved for the competition.

We grew as a company in April, with an expanded reputation and audience growth. Personally, I¹ve learned how to organize play writing competitions; how to analyze original plays; how to work side-by-side with playwrights, directing their work to our needs; how to mount brand-new theatre. The stakes were high indeed, but happily RTR had a winning hand.

(HOME)