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.