Eliza

Why am I writing here? Show's over. Guess I just needed to contribute this little finding to our once-discussion of pareidolia and simulacra. Found here, this is in reference to Eliza, one of the first "chat-bots" and how people tended to behave with it (her?):

"The phenomenon Weizenbaum was observing was later dubbed "the Eliza effect" by Shelly Turkle, which she defined as the tendency 'to project our feelings onto objects and to treat things as though they were people.' In computer science and new media circles, the Eliza effect has become shorthand for a user's tendency to assume based on its surface properties that a program is much more sophisticated, much more intelligent, than it really is."

And now, an update.

It seems that my online wanderings keep leading me back to a theme here. Reading up (to stave off my unending appetite for to play the game Portal 2) on the trivia for the video game Portal, this little nugget popped up. It's regarding one of the props your character uses in the game, the companion cube:

The Weighted Companion Cube inspiration was from project lead Kim Swift with additional input from Wolpaw from reading some "declassified government interrogation thing" whereby "isolation leads subjects to begin to attach to inanimate objects";^[38][41] Swift commented, "We had a long level called Box Marathon; we wanted players to bring this box with them from the beginning to the end. But people would forget about the box, so we added dialogue, applied the heart to the cube, and continued to up the ante until people became attached to the box. Later on, we added the incineration idea. The artistic expression grew from the gameplay."^[42] Wolpaw further noted that the need to incinerate the Weighted Companion Cube came as a result of the final boss battle design; they recognized they had not introduced the idea of incineration necessary to complete the boss battle, and by training the player to do it with the Weighted Companion Cube, found the narrative "way stronger" with its "death".^[45] Swift noted that reported psychological comparisons to both the Milgram experiment and 2001: A Space Odyssey are happenstance.^[42]

I can't say that the world is trying to lead me to something for sure. But it surely is feeling that way.

ETC Article: March

And We All Float On...
Tucked into a closet deep in the inner workings of the Electric Theatre Company there are a few things of mine: a pay-as-you-go cellular phone, an old Charlie Chaplin marionette and a new-but-somewhat-used rod puppet named Rudy Lippers (né Kalinowski).  These are of course some of the trappings of The Puppeteers, which performed its last show on February 6.  The fate of the rest of our cast of some thirty puppets, prefabricated and made specifically for this show alike, I don’t know.
          Well, a good many of them went home with Conor, as he provided them and owns them.  With him too, and with Heather and Elizabeth as well, went their respective “doppelgänger” hand puppets - closing gifts from yours truly.  But that leaves quite a few more.  Some, I suppose, may have been scooped up by their makers, or by the amazing Chris Estevez or his brother, who spent hours beautifully and creatively applying color to our creations.  No one could take them all though, and many of them were made of otherwise disposable materials.  So, while some I’m sure got boxed up and shelved somewhere (this is a not-for-profit theatre, after all) many might have had existences as fleeting as a work of theatre.
          That is to say, now many of the puppets probably exist only in our memories.
          Nowadays, there’s a temptation to describe theatre as a uniquely temporal entertainment.  We’re so focused on recorded media that it presents a context for something as fleeting as a theatre production to seem oddly archaic, when in fact the theatre is the more common experience.  Sure, there’s all this stored and saved information - more and more every day.  But life itself is temporal.  The very experience of our day-to-day is a series of moments that can never be relived, no matter how repetitive or familiar they may seem.  It’s commonly held that this is part of what gives life its value, the fact that it ends.  In a way I find very similar, a show exists in the moment and, eventually, only in memory.
          So, some memories, incredibly partial and in no particular order:

• Almost as soon as we discovered that golf-club covers could be made into wonderfully simple puppets, we fell in love with them and the Veedoots (as they came to be called) seemed to take on a life of their own.  And to think: When we went shopping at the craft store for general supplies, I almost ruled out the little white cardboard circles that became their eyes for being too generic.
• In Prohibitive Standards, I broke Heather’s toe with a chair.  In The Very Nearly Perfect Comedy of Romeo & Juliet, she tore something in her calf.  In The Puppeteers she re-injured that calf, and in every case she continued on with the show, incorporating her injury.  (Heather may have to be the director next time, for her own safety.)
• Come to that, we had illnesses and injuries galore during this process, from actors to company managers.  Only Conor escaped unscathed, which seems about right somehow.  We came to refer to ourselves as the Spider-Man of Scranton, in reference to the Broadway show now racking up injury liability left and right.
• When rehearsal got too overwhelming or we needed time to refocus, we set to work on coming up with puppets.  For a couple of weeks there, the theatre space was an amazing pastiche of trash, and we kept being nervous someone had left the glue gun on.  It was a lovely mess.
• Before proper rehearsal, when everything was still unformed, we had these amazing improvisations that might even as time goes on become confused in my mind with the show itself.  We might have made three whole shows in our process, if only someone could have had the organizational super-power to gather our scraps.
• The first night we all went out for a nightcap as a company, to Jack’s, midway through rehearsal.  The warm light, relaxation and an icy snow outside.
• “We have another interview today.  We have another interview today?!”  I think there was a week or so there where I was continually surprised by strangers in our rehearsal space.  The frenzy of production and the torpor of bedtime, and all that permissible obsession.
• How worried we grew about technical support as time marched on, and how Jim Langan and Drake Gomez swooped in and performed miracles on the space akin to the ones Chris and his brother performed on our puppets.
• The many moments in rehearsal when, as we innocently explored the characters’ personal conflicts in this whimsical comedy, I was surprised to find myself deeply moved by the actors’ portrayals.  Leonoria’s never-ending battle with her crippling fear, Tina’s amazing discovery of deep wells of emotion and, of course, Bob’s heart-breaking crisis of confidence.
• Those first audience laughs.

There’s no shortage of memories with this production and, ultimately, that’s the best I can hope for.
          That sentence proves my assertion from the first of these articles - that I’m an excellent liar.  The fact is, I can hope for more.  I can hope that our show created some memories for those who participated in it with us, behind the scenes and from the audience.  Undoubtedly some of the people who joined in the action of act two will likely remember their roles as either Dorothy, the uniform Ozian or the Wicked Witch of the West.  More than that, however, I hope for a few of the children from our audiences to grow up remembering fondly our unworthy scaffold and its little story.
          One of the messages of The Wizard of Oz is that we each carry a little bit of our home with us, no matter where we find ourselves.  I like that idea.  It’s important that a memory of home lives on in us because, as they say, no matter where you go, there you are.  I look forward to my next visit to Scranton (which I often refer to as my artistic home away from home) to collect my little talismans.  There will be no stories to write, or windows to dress, or crocodiles to construct, but many friends to see. And though things will be different, they will also be new, and that’s a good way for life to be.
          One last thought. (I promise, because if I go on much longer we’ll have gotten WAY too introspective.) There’s another idiom about home that strangely in all my thinking about the themes of the show I never came up with. That is: You can never go home again. I think that one’s true as well, and it terrifies me, and that’s life - nothing stays the same. The trick is in learning to go with the prevailing winds when you can. Like a good balloonist. Don't worry, we'll all float on. Even if things get heavy, we'll all float on, all right...

Pareidolia or Simulacra? 2

Or both!

Found here.

Bill Williams (Elizabeth's dad)

Elizabeth's father maintains his own 'blog, and had some insightful and interesting ideas to share recently that were partly inspired by attending one of our matinées.  Check out his thoughts on education and theatre here: Scranton Sunday.

Punxsutawney Puppet

Super Punch had a post today that reminded me of one of the puppets we made from a screen duster found at Staples.  We made ours into more of a googly-eyed-alien-thing, but different strokes, etc.

Final week of shows begins tonight!  Getcher tickets!

Electric City Review

We've received a lovely review from Alicia Grega at The Electric City.  See it here: Uproarious Effort - Zuppa del Giorno's The Puppeteers Is a Laugh Riot.

Marybeth's Show Report: 1/28

Show Notes 1/27/11 


Time:     (6-9)  6-set up/warmup Showtime: 7:10
                Act I – 61 Minutes; intermission –13 Minutes;  Act II-  39 Minutes
HOUSE  29


             OH MY GOSH a little boy just told Leonoria “That’s YOU!” referring to her doppelganger [puppet].  He’s so cute!  See, little kids ARE great!  And he helped Leonoria build a fort and is now “The small puppet in the front row” -the newest member of our cast!  Also, our cast is taking some different routes and by that I mean experimenting with lines, voices, and ALSO entrances and exits – completely different show!  Hello, Zuppa!  “Love is sometimes like going to Northern Light and getting a fancy coffee with a picture in it and listening to a guitar, and sometimes it’s like the Avian Bird Flu.”  Poor little Rudy lost his legs… The two little kids in the front row were a fabulous combined witch!

Marybeth's Show Report: 1/26

Our esteemed stage manager emailed me the show report after last night's performance, and I thought her color commentary too endearing not to include on the 'blog.  And so, for your edification, ladies and gentlemen, Marybeth Langdon's show notes:

Show Notes 1/26/11 

Time:     (6-9)  6-set up/warmup Showtime: 7:11pm

Act I – 59 Minutes; intermission – 13 Minutes;  Act II-  39 Minutes Minutes

HOUSE  30

  

                The audience is eating the show like CANDY!  There were a bunch of college students and a few kids.  Oh my gosh and they CLAPPED when Bob found his voice!  One of the best audiences ever!  And now a little child has one of her puppets on a string of garland… and Bob used it to threaten Leonoria… This is insanity!!!!  I LOVE IT!  Best responses to kisses and roaring!  So… the veedoot basket got caught on the clock sign????  Luckily it went along with the sound[; by] Jimminy Crickets these veedots know how to cause problems.  So I had to throw two airplanes because the first got caught on the lights and took a nose dive.  Le sigh. VERY interactive second act.  Lots of energy!!!

ETC Article: February

The Other Side
I am back home, in Queens.  I still have a spot of crocodile-green (actually “chalkboard spray paint”) on my right forearm, and a warm glow in my heart from the way things came together opening week.  The director’s process, you see, is done.  I have given the show over to two very influential creative types now: the actors, and you - the audience.  Most of the time shows are merely handed over to the actors after the director has left, but in the case of a show that has no script and is as dependent on audience interaction as ours is, it’s as much (if not more) the audience’s as it is the actors’.
    So what is of the utmost import now, is that we have an audience.  I have some hopes for this, even going into what is routinely the toughest sell - the second week.  The second week is the awkward middle child of the run.  It gets none of the torrential press of opening (see the ‘blog for coverage from no less than six sources) and none of the last-minute dash of closing.  The second week is the one during which people literally forget that there are performances.  Yet, as I say, I have some hopes.  We’ve worked hard to promote the show from even before the articles, even before the rehearsals began.  If you are reading this in the newsletter, you probably received one of our unique holiday postcards, and if you’ve been by the theatre you may have lost in a coat pocket somewhere a fabricated stick puppet, or even a bag puppet you made yourself.
    At the end of my time in Scranton, I got to be an audience member a few times.  Preview performances don’t count (I could still [and did, very much so] take notes then) and opening is far too high-pressure for any sensible appreciation of a show.  That left two performances before I had to cross back over the Delaware Water Gap and of those one had a highly responsive audience, and the other less so.  This is extremely important, and I and the rest of the troupe were lucky to have this contrast.  It meant we were tested against both high-energy audiences - a boon for comedies such as this - and lower-energy ones, which can show some unfortunate failings in a given show.
    I’m very pleased to report that our show succeeds both as an interactive, zany comedy, and as a tender and intelligent little story about bravery and friendship.
    I am, of course, a little biased.  At least I’m basing my evaluation in part on audience reaction.  Even the quieter audience was all smiles, and leaned forward in their seats.  At its heart, our play is a story about how confronting personal challenges can bring people together, and I think that’s the kind of story a broad range of people can appreciate.  Especially when it’s funny to boot.
    And it is funny.  I’ve heard directors say, and occasionally as an actor believed, that a comedy lives only once it’s left the director’s hands.  I can now claim that theory to be definitive.  All our little experiments for audience participation have had their tweaks now, and they work beautifully.  Even the big gamble: text messages from the audience to the players!  At the eleventh hour, literally when I was feeling past all hope, we acquired a new performer in the form of a Mr. Cory Brim.  Cory took up all the offstage duties of ancillary puppeteering, and he is like the epoxy of our strange little world.  Most of all, however, the actors have found their show.  They know how to play it, and when to let it play them, and there’s a sense of satisfaction to that like I’ve never known.
    It was for me, however, slightly bitter-sweet to watch the show from the other side rather than participate in it.  I’ve been grappling with this in little ways even as I sat in an empty audience in rehearsals, but it really hit home as I watched the actors riff on and ride out all-new jokes while friends and strangers laughed around me.  While the audience gets to experience inclusion for the first time, and even participation, I have had to acknowledge that my involvement is waning.  And when I return to watch the final shows, They’ll be something completely different from what I helped make.  They’ll be your performances.  And that’s going to be amazing.

Mark Dennebaum Jr. & that Thing called Theatre

Every so often, the collaboration involved in a creative endeavor (like theatre) goes beyond simple reciprocation, and there are unexpected rewards.  When Mark and 25/8 Productions Inc. came by and then created a fantastic promotional video for us, I thought that was the end-all, be-all of results.  I was gratifyingly wrong.  A whole heap of 25/8ers came to the show opening night, and apparently enjoyed themselves and - much to my surprise - Mark ended up writing a really wonderful response to what turned out to be among his first encounters with live theatre.  Your can read that here.

I like this about theatre, that it can have a direct effect on someone and you get to be there to witness it happen.  I also love this about information technology, that it gives us the opportunity to communicate about that kind of experience not just in the room, but more at large.  Lastly, we like Mark.  Somebody out there make him rich and famous, stat.

The Abington Journal

Photo by Ryan D. Beardsley

Ryan Beardsley came by a couple of weeks ago and did a great write-up on us for the Abington Journal.  You can check it out here: The Abington Journal write-up of The Puppeteers.  I really enjoyed speaking with Ryan, and he seemed to really understand what we are about, to the extent that he considered quoting the actors in his article a priority.

The best part, of course, may be that it's now in print that Conor has promised to wear deodorant for the run of the show.  That's binding and in the record, McGuigan!

Is This a Puppet? 7

Found here.

Go Lackawanna

Photo by Niko J. Kallianiotis

Rich Howells did an extensive interview with me a couple of weeks ago - my first for this show - and on the 18th the article went to press.  Read it here: Go Lackawanna on The Puppeteers.


Rich really impressed me with his insights into what we are doing, and he's expressed some interest in following up with a visit to explore more of the inner workings of a contemporary commedia troupe.  I hope we can work that out, because he's one honorary cast member I'd love to personally introduce to our lovely land of Oz.

First Preview

First of all, thanks to everyone who made it out for our first preview performance!  It goes for all theatre - but especially the commedia dell'arte sort - that the final cast member to join is the audience.  We had about 35 daring folks join us for our very first foray with that "cast member," and we learned a lot from the experience.  Primarily, we learned that including the audience as much as possible is going to be key to this show's success.  We had a lot of enthusiasm from last night's crowd, and that was incredibly exciting.

We also had a lot of gaffs.  That's what preview performances are about, after all.  Pleasingly, all the gaffs were technical ones, which is the aspect of the show that's had the least rehearsal.  One sock puppet got put on upside down (the next puppet show I direct may feature exclusively sock puppets with eyes on their bellies), a giant bag puppet needed about a minute to find its way to the stage and we were flat-out missing a plot-central sound cue.  What was rather inspiring about the whole thing was that because the show is semi-improvised, all these gaffs brought us to exciting and useful discoveries about the show.

And our stage manager, Marybeth Langdon, deserves a Tony for delivering the missing sound cue verbally in her inimitable style.

I'm very much looking forward to tonight's second preview, and can only hope it brings in an audience as varied and generous as last night's.  Official opening is this Friday, and I actually feel a little bad for the folks planning on attending then.  The show will be so slick by then, they'll miss some of the developmental fun...

25/8 Productions Inc.

This, dear friends, is exciting.  Mark Dennebaum Jr. came by with his production company, 25/8 Productions Inc., and not only interviewed us all but produced a video from it to boot.  I love the set-ups and editing on this - it makes me feel far more professional than I have any right to, and portrays the performers in all their effortless glory.  Enjoy!

The Weekender

Photo by Jason Riedmiller

Michael Lello did an unbelievably great article on our show for The Weekender, one which included interviews with the actors and photos of their acrobalance practice.  You can read the two-page spread online here:  The Puppeteers write-up in The Weekender.  Be sure to scroll down for the acro-photos!

The Times-Leader

Photo by Niko J. Kallianiotis

Mary Therese Biebel interviewed me about The Puppeteers for the Times-Leader, and you can view the polished results of my disjointed rambling here: Puppeteers write-up in the Times-Leader.  I really appreciated Mary Therese's emphasis on the characters in her article.  It seems in keeping with our process, and how the foundation for all the zaniness is grounded, recognizable and original characterization.

The Times-Tribune

Photo by David Zarko.

Patrice Wilding wrote an article on our show, and it was a pleasant (albeit somewhat overwhelming) surprise to find it in a central, red-bordered location on the front page of the arts section of the Times-Tribune this morning. Talking to Patrice was a joy - the experience was more like a conversation between friends than an interview.  You can read the result here: Times-Tribune write-up on The Puppeteers.

Introducing...THE VEEDOOTS!

Rich Howells

I don't like to pick favorites, but this interview Rich Howells did with me would be it, if I did such things. His style lent itself to a more conversational approach, and we really got into a discussion of what the ideas behind the show were. I didn't think of it as a significant moment at the time, but reading back over it I realize it was some of my clearest thinking about the show prior to its opening.

ETC Article: January

Window Dressing

I was working on the window display along Spruce Street for the theatre yesterday - this is exactly the sort of thing I get obsessed with when there’s something actually important to get done - when I got to thinking about how to summarize everything that’s happened with the development of The Puppeteers since my last article.  I spent several hours dismantling Christmas decorations, searching for raw material for our display and setting it up (and re-setting it up), and in that time I realized something important.

    It can’t be done.

    I could tell you about the two weekends spent in Scranton prior to the holidays, and all the plot and concept developed out of that.  I could emphasize that we are all here in Scranton now, through the end of things; that in the past six rehearsals that we’ve had we’ve constructed some two dozen puppets, created an entire play, thrown out half of it and condensed the rest into a first act.  I could go on to let you in on the fact that I structured a scenario for act two last night which, with any luck, the brilliant actors will improvise around tonight and find inspiration in.  There’s a lot of detail I could relate to you about what we’ve been up to.

    The trouble is, none of it would fully relate the strange place in the development process we’ve now entered.  It’s not dissimilar to travelling to a magical land of color and song, in fact.  Everything is predicated on instinct now.  Ideas are realized fast and without thinking, and most discarded just as quickly based on sheer non-verbal responses.  Improvisations are as likely to be created during break time as they are during stage time.  There’s sheer glee and utter terror, more questions than what we know to do with, and two craft tables in a TOTAL CHAOS of paper, glue, foam, dowel rods and googly eyes.

    It’s wonderful.

    The aspect that probably sets this show apart from our previous collaborations is the sheer number of cast members.  We are vastly outnumbered by performers made of felt and cardboard, and often upstaged by them at that.  The ideas for a transforming set are coming together nicely as well, and we will soon be playing with a replica Punch-n-Judy box and a human-sized puppet stage.  Conor and I will soon be recording sound cues for a psychedelic travel sequence, musical themes for our main characters and even a ferocious, threatening crocodile’s bark.  But all of that, even the joy-infusing, scene-stealing puppets, is just window dressing.

    The key to a good show under any circumstances, but particularly when said show is going to be semi-improvised comedy, is a strong ensemble.  It seems to me that is one of the things audiences really come to the theatre, and few places else, to see.  Real people in having true interactions in real time.  It should be like watching an encapsulated family - dysfunctional, perhaps; hilarious, hopefully - and recognizing all the ways in which they push one another’s buttons.  The actors have found that in the past week.  Continue to find it, in fact, in new and surprising ways, and this is what gives the show its substance.  Every day it has more heart, smarts, and bravery.  In a word, more ensemble.

    So since I can’t summarize where we are (who after all can define the boundaries of Oz?), you’ll just have to come down and experience it for yourself.  The development log is still up and running, and soon will have backstage video: http://thepuppeteersproduction.blogspot.com/.  And if you find yourself strolling down Spruce Street and are suddenly blinded by the glare of golden streamers from a window display, don’t fear for your eyes and run!  Come inside, past the window dressing and up to the second floor, and pop in to see what sort of anarchy we’re up to.