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Written by Marcella Kearns

Meet Me at 44 -- Round Two!

For those of you who have been reading this blog, you may recall that early in the summer, while beginning to prep for this production, I visited an old frequent college hangout: a bar called Founding Fathers in Buffalo, New York. On this, the last week of 44 Plays for 44 Presidents at Forward, I can’t help but feel some buzz and brilliance about that. It feels like things have come full circle on this production, you see, but not just because we’re wrapping up. It’s because we’ve had a little touch of synchronicity to give these last few days some extra sparkle.

Let me lay it out for you: This summer, I started my work on the play at the aforementioned bar, which my friends affectionately call "44." Among other presidents, I play #44 in the production. And then—this Thursday, #44 himself came to speak on Bascom Hill on the UW campus to a crowd of 30,000 people. Yup, the current POTUS just up the street from the theater.

Now, whether you’re a supporter of Mr. Obama or not, you gotta admit his visit to Madison helps make this production’s whole process and run a beautiful perfect package. It would have been even cooler if he’d been able to swing by the theater, but he’s a little busy these days!

Admittedly, this was a theatrical career first for me—seeing the person I’m currently playing onstage. What was better, though, was hearing his words. Again, readers, no matter your political affiliation, what President Obama had to say should ring for all of us. It’s what this play is all about. When he quoted some of Gov. Romney’s statements from the debate held the night before, his crowd of supporters began to boo. “Don’t boo,” said #44. “Vote.” What a way to remind us of our own civic responsibility, our own power.

Thanks to everyone who has worked on this production. Thanks to everyone who has seen this production—you’re the reason we do it. Here’s to you.

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Written by Marcella Kearns

Blog #6 Advice to the Audience!

One of the comments I’ve received from audience members attending the play, both before and after the performance, is that while they’re enjoying it, they’re a little concerned they’re missing something. . . . they feel like they don’t know as much about the historical events in the play as they should. In answer, I would offer a hearty, “Don’t worry about it!” and here’s why:

1. Endless Variations. Each short play is a variation on a theme—among other throughline ideas, that these men are just guys who find themselves in extraordinarily complex situations. An actor puts on 

The Coat (so the audience knows who’s playing the president), and in the space of 2-4 minutes, we present a facet of that president's legacy, which may appear as a clown act, dance number, celebrity roast, exciting piece of technical spectacle, abstract representation/symbol of a concept, or some other physical or verbal feat. Certainly if you know intimate details about Taylor’s death, Garfield’s occupation before taking office, or Clinton’s welfare reform, you’ll have a special “insider’s” experience of that particular play, but by no means are you “getting” any less than you need to. As (director) Jen Gray puts it eloquently at talkbacks, the total picture is what’s most important: a tapestry of 44 people in a difficult office with a growing and great legacy. A portrait, if you will. A glimpse. It’s enough that a sensory, intellectual, or emotional resonance is transmitted to you in the space of a single play. Take it in as you might take in the experience of an art exhibit (as you may undoubtedly have in the Playhouse Gallery!). Some pieces will probably mean more to you than others. Some will probably leave you with questions or mixed feelings. That's okay.

2. Be a Nerd. If a particular play leaves you wondering what that event or incident was about, be an unabashed nerd! Check it out for yourself after the production. Did Coolidge really get up in the middle of the night, take the oath of office, and then go right back to sleep? What was Johnson’s impeachment all about? How exactly did Fillmore stave off civil war for a decade? What did France—even more importantly, the U.S.—think of Wilson’s League of Nations? Yep, the evening really does hit this level of detail and more. If your curiosity is sparked because you felt a particular play covered some aspect of history that’s fuzzy to you, continue the experience on your own! Then reflect on the play as you remember it and determine whether its meaning has unfolded itself to you in a richer way. In other words, continue to participate actively as an audience member soaking in a collaborative work of art. This playgoing experience doesn’t have to end at the talkback.

3. Speak up! And speaking of talkbacks, attend them! Post a query to Forward Theater Company on Facebook! Find a company member in the lobby! This play is all about making a meaningful connection to one another.

See you at the theater, everybody!

(photos by Zane Williams, featuring Matt Daniels, Marcella Kearns, Patrick Sims, and Georgina McKee)

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Written by Marcella Kearns

Blog # 5 Countdowns

We opened last week—what a ride! This whole week has been a series of countdowns…

TECH: As we moved into the intense last few days of rehearsal—putting all of the elements together from costume detail to choreography adjustments onstage, building and running technical cues, spacing ourselves on the set—Jen Gray began to call out the number of each president as soon as we’d finished that play. “Six!” “Nine!” “Did I say 11? 11!”

At some point during the day on Saturday, someone said we should bet on how many plays we would get through that day. Jen: Teddy Roosevelt. Jonathan: Garfield—“Grant’s going to have a lot of cues!” Patrick: Cleveland round one. Matt: Benjamin Harrison. Anneliese: Cleveland round two. And so on. Near the end of the night—down to our last few minutes of work time—Matt could feel victory: we were working on the top of the second act cues, and Benjamin Harrison is the play that begins the second act. Four minutes. Three minutes. We got through Harrison and moved into Cleveland round two. Mark called time. Matt conceded—by “Price is Right” rules, he said, the closest without going over—Anneliese won. Congrats to our assistant director!

Sunday began the same process—writing cues, running them—giving Mark and the crew their chance to rehearse. (Think about it: stage managers are there for rehearsals and are therefore intimately familiar with staging, but they’re the ones “calling” the show—all of the cues the actors and crew execute—during the performance. So although the actors get a few weeks, stage managers and crew only get a few days to rehearse while designers complete and adjust all of the visual and aural elements. Tech and dress rehearsals are when it all comes together, and in a short, intense amount of time. A pretty phenomenal feat in my estimation. This team is incredible.)

By the way… regarding tech rehearsals… one major countdown for Saturday: a welcome to the theater space itself and to dinner break. THANK YOU, FRIENDS OF FORWARD! Sustenance and morale! For anyone wondering… Yes, there were 44 brownies for 44 Presidents. I think I had enough for all of the presidents I play.

OPENING: At five minutes to curtain, costume designer Monica Butler took a picture of the cast backstage to post for the national festival. Audiences, depending on where you sit, you may or may not catch a glimpse of some of Jen Trieloff’s set dressing… but one of my favorite elements is models of some of the early space missions. Being an unabashed space nerd, I thought of some of those crews as I wished my fellow cast members good journey.

What’s going to happen? Then, curtain announcement. Then, lights dimming. There’s nothing in the world like the moment when the lights in a theater dim. The anticipation of everyone present—performers, crew, and that final element which brings a performance to life—audience—is palpable. What’s going to happen? Countdown. Liftoff.

Can’t wait to see all of you there.

(photos by Zane Williams.)

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Written by Marcella Kearns

Okay, time to face it. Time to face the elephant (and the donkey) in the room.

In the first play in 44PF44P, we hear an injunction to guard men against partisanship. George Washington, upon his retirement, gave a final address (written by Madison and Hamilton, by the way) to Congress and the nation. Part of that address:

The alternate domination of one faction over another, sharpened by the spirit of revenge, natural to party dissension, which in different ages and countries has perpetrated the most horrid enormities, is itself a frightful despotism. But this leads at length to a more formal and permanent despotism. The disorders and miseries, which result, gradually incline the minds of men to seek security and repose in the absolute power of an individual; and sooner or later the chief of some prevailing faction, more able or more fortunate than his competitors, turns this disposition to the purposes of his own elevation, on the ruins of Public Liberty.

Could this have been written yesterday? Writing style aside, sure. Partisanship: source of some of the worst bad blood we’ve seen among our countrymen for… well, let’s see. Over 200 years. From Federalists and Democratic-Republicans to Democrats and Republicans, the story hasn’t changed.

So it’s been amazing to me the last few days in rehearsal to really gnaw at the meat and bones of the final two plays, how one moves into the next. How the story of each unfolds. Presidents George W. Bush and Barack Obama have both held their tenures during a seethingly difficult era of partisanship among the American electorate. We’ve seen dirty campaigning. We’ve heard cemented viewpoints and far-reaching demands from members of the major political parties and the spectrum of liberal and conservative viewpoints that span both. We’ve seen centrists have trouble navigating through a fiercely polarized body of citizens and representatives on every level of government.

There seems to be no getting around it. (Just typing these words is getting my heart rate up.) Maybe you feel the same way. Instead of feeling empowered, so many of us are exhausted, frozen out, or infuriated at constantly running full tilt at our political opponents. That’s the story of now. That’s the story of today, where we, all of us—We the People—are. How do we as artists effectively tell the story of these two last plays, then—especially the last one, which is going to be performed even before our current president’s first term/term is over?

Our goal is not, as Georg (McKee, fellow cast member) put it this morning in rehearsal, to get to the final play and tell the audience to go out there and vote for President Obama. Nor is it the reverse! If anything, our goal is simply to encourage the audience to go out there and vote. Essentially, then, we’re exploring with incredible care how to craft nonpartisan living political theatre. So to speak.

And it’s work, folks. Check out just a few of the points we have to keep in mind:

1. The Neo-Futurist aesthetic demands that we are ourselves onstage. Even when we’re playing character, we’re still trying to be as much ourselves as we can. Naturally, we’re going to bring our own viewpoints and reactions into the rehearsal hall, with all the loaded choices and feelings that may come with it. This morning Patrick and Jonathan both spoke about the knee-jerk reaction we may bring to the table with either of these plays. How to separate that from the story given to us to tell? How much of it do we bring to the story?

2. We have to be responsible to the text of the plays as we understand them—what’s the story the playwrights are trying to tell?

3. Jen reminded us that the Obama play was written much earlier in his term. Is there an opportunity in the way we stage the play (how we craft it visually—no revisions to the text) to reflect the continuing history of his time in office as we know it? Honestly, to me the discussions, respectful disagreements, attempts, explorations, and collaboration in the rehearsal hall right now reflect the complex, messy, beautiful work of democratic governance—with Jen, our chief exec, molding what all of us are bringing to the table.

Okay, okay, there’s the idealist and literature major in me enjoying the metaphor.

But seriously! Everybody’s working hard to create a living, breathing thing, and I can’t help but make the comparison. (The lovely difference between the rehearsal hall and the outside world is that disagreements are respectful and compromise is happening. Whew, I’d love to see more of that out there.)

Here’s the main thing: collaboration. Everybody in the room is participating and trying to figure it out. That’s the wonderful part of it—it’s a team effort. I feel a part of something larger than myself, and I feel a responsibility to bring my best to it because every voice and body is necessary to create the whole.

One of the strongest references in the Washington play is to the Garden of Eden.

No surprise there—Washington’s play is all about the genesis of the office of President. What I’m reminded of is reading the source texts about Eden when I was a kid: the story goes that God gave the Garden to man to “cultivate and care for it.” That’s the source of the idea of stewardship among people of faith. The Neo-Futurists, using that culturally pervasive metaphor as a parallel for the United States and its citizens—“this vulnerable little country,” as Washington calls it with tenderness and mindfulness—sets us up in no uncertain terms to be reminded of our responsibility as citizens: Participation. Care.

Here’s to the mess, and here’s to the work.