Machinal

A site for posts by actors and crew working on a production of Sophie Treadwell's Machinal at Duke University (April 3-13, 2014).

[machinalclass]

Closing up shop. Thanks for a great semester.

[machinalclass]

I wish I could say “Let’s start with opening night,” but to be very honest, I don’t remember much of it. I’m always most nervous on opening night, so the nerves got in the way of forming solid memories :) But honestly, opening night is such a mystery to me. Given that that night is probably when...

[machinalclass]

I like what you said about listening to the audience. I think paying attention to what energized them, made them laugh, made them still, etc., really helped shape our performance and make it a unique experience every night. I think there is a lot in this play that people can relate to, things people recognize in themselves and in others (like the mom nagging or losing her patience, not recognizing her daughter's "cry for help" or yearning for guidance and affection), and I definitely feel like there were people out there agreeing with you, as you said, or sometimes disagreeing with you. It changed from night to night. Just as I think there were people who found Thomas's character awful and others who found him funny and charming (despite the awful things he does onstage). I think the mother is also a polarizing character. She isn't evil, and doesn't seem to want to hurt her daughter or cause her pain, but she nevertheless plays a key role in her downfall. 

Also- on a separate note- I feel your struggle with the lost voice dilemma. That happened to me last year in Metamorphoses, and then again in Vanya (though with Vanya it was more of a fever/cold issue than lost voice, but the congestion did make it harder to speak!) It's one of those things you can't really control, that presents a unique challenge you need to power through and work your way around. For you, I think it worked out magnificently. There was never a moment where I felt your performance was hindered. I know it caused you a lot of stress, though, and that's the toughest part. But you were awesome. I can't imagine having a better mother/lawyer for the prosecution to act alongside in this play! Kudos. 

[machinalduke]

And more than 500 years have passed since an anonymous dramatist – or more likely dramatists, one of whom may have been Shakespeare – wrote Arden of Faversham. First published in 1592, the play’s subject matter is the murder of a prosperous Kent businessman named Thomas Arden. A new production opens at Stratford’s Swan Theatre next week, directed by Polly Findlay. It is a clever choice by the RSC. The knowledge that these events really did happen, that the handsome Tudor house in which Arden died still stands in Faversham, will add its ineffable dark allure. The decision to stage the production in modern dress will heighten the sense that here is a story for all time. Arden was murdered by his wife and her lover: they wanted rid of him, and they wanted his money. It happened in 1551, but it could be happening today. Divorce on demand notwithstanding, the classic domestic murder does not die. Indeed its fascination is eternal, as is proved by the fact that at the end of the 16th century there was, just as now, a fashion for these bloody and essentially middle-class dramas. A Yorkshire Tragedy, for instance, was based on a 1605 murder case in which the outwardly respectable Walter Calverley killed his wife and two of his children. It is sometimes suggested that this play, too, was part-written by Shakespeare. Like Arden of Faversham, it has literary merit. Nevertheless one has to think that the audience appeal of these works would have derived at least as much from their rendering of actual events. The account of Thomas Arden’s death in the Newgate Calendar – which describes how Alice Arden “wept like a crocodile” as she lamented her husband’s apparent disappearance – shows that the play stuck pretty closely to the facts. The real Alice hired two hit men who repeatedly failed at their task, and much of the play’s grotesque and giggly atmosphere is generated by their incompetence. At one point, for instance, a window is shut firmly on the head of “Black Will” as he is about to launch a murderous assault.

A real Tudor murder story rekindled - Telegraph

An intriguing find on the day when we celebrate Shakespeare’s passing in 1616. Field trip to the RSC! 

(via machinalduke)

[machinalclass]

shopping

The first time I have ever used tools and built anything with my hands in the most basic sense of the word was when I did shop hours for Vanya. Despite my overwhelming feeling of ineptitude, I realized then as I did this time around that it actually a very rewarding experience because I am genuinely useful. I don’t just sit around holding the ladder, but I actually build stuff. It’s a great feeling. Almost as great as tearing it all down in the end. (I love the stapler remover thing—it was a small victory every time I yanked one out of the floor.) I also feel like participating in the building and striking of the set really cements the entire performance process together. We all work on building the space that is going to be ours for a couple weeks, and then, once our run is over, we all work together to take it down. It is somewhat cathartic. It’s not like we leave after the last show, and come back to see it disappear and Sheafer suddenly void—we take it down, just as we built it up. We start and finish the process together, and I think there’s something important and meaningful about that. Psychologically, at least. It’s also just a bunch of useful life skills that I appreciate having now. I can build things, y’all! (Somewhat.) Hooray for utilitarianism. (But DOWN with the machine!!!!) 

[machinalclass]

final thoughts

Tech was a part of the process that I was looking forward to a lot, mainly because I was eager to see how all the artistic visions we had been hearing about and expecting for months (the shadow play behind the curtain, for example) would come together. I was excited to see how everything would look with all the jazzy final touches. Though no one enjoys the long hours, and though sometimes going over a certain scene or a specific moment dozens of times can get rather tedious, I found tech extremely gratifying. It was so awesome to see everyone in costume and witness the set transform with the light and sound and become a real world for us to walk in and live in for two weeks. It was a turning point—one that marked (in an exciting but still somewhat bittersweet kind of way) the final stretch of our long process. It felt like we finally had some sort of a finished product to share, which was a huge relief going into the first performance weekend.

Speaking of which, I think we were all really excited to be sharing our work with an audience by the time the first weekend rolled around. Something that had been ours for months was being opened to the reception, interpretations, and even critiques of others. It was pretty scary, but also quite invigorating: It presented us with a new challenge, one that asked us to take all the months of hard work and take everything we knew about the show and our characters and play it out to the best of our abilities, giving it 100% every night for every new audience, telling this story Treadwell wrote and Jules brought to life. Every evening as I arrived to put on my eye makeup, (a feat of its own), I felt like I was getting ready for a brand new experience, something that filled me with a decent amount of fear and anticipation, (how was it going to go tonight?), but also excitement and comfort, because I knew we all knew the play, and would know how to get through the night together.

The incredible sense of relying on other people for this production only made me more trusting in its success. My performance relied on other people’s performances, just as their performances relied on mine, and how we all relied on Kara and the light cues. It was truly a group effort. The success of the entire show was in our (shared) hands, and to see it happen every night in front of an audience felt really rewarding. Getting the live feedback from the audience was definitely an energizer. Hearing the laughs at certain moments that for us had ceased to be funny-- (or had never occurred to us as being humorous, like that line "that's kinda funny!" that I told Justin after the old Irishwoman joke...EVERY TIME it got laughs and I never understood/will never understand why)-- emerged through the audience, breathing life into our characters and giving those moments a special place in the play. It was great to hear those kinds of responses, as well as the charged stillness I felt sometimes in the room, where I felt like they were really listening.

This was a tough play to put on. Not just considering the balancing act of keeping hats on my head (that "To Business" hat... I will never forget the struggle of keeping it in place), but hard because there was (and is) so much at stake in this play. I felt a tremendous amount of compassion for the young woman the whole way through, and I admit it wasn't easy climbing into her skin every day. It's uncomfortable being in her position. But it also felt meaningful. I wasn't doing it for nothing- none of us were- and her story is an important one. I am so utterly thankful that we shared it, and I hope it had an impact on those who came to watch it, as it definitely had a large one on me. Thank you all so much! 

[machinalclass]

comment

Ashley's words:

I was surprised to hear laughing in some parts that none of the cast thought was funny. These moments weren’t plentiful, but when they did occur it was a clear indication that the audience was present, engaged, and perhaps picked up on aspects that we as actors missed. I felt it particularly hard to gauge whether or not the audience liked the play during the performance because it’s not a funny play.

--------------------------

I think this hits to the very core of theatre. I think that theatre is an exploration of life and truth, but that means different things to each and every individual. Why did people laugh at certain points? Is it because they didn't know all of the back story of the play and were not equipped with the research and knowledge we had? Was it because they were uncomfortable and didn't know what else to do? Or was it because they truly thought it was funny?

Now, I do not know the answer and I may never know, but that's ok. The fact that they laughed means that we hit a nerve, that we struck something inside their subconscious or conscious that made them think/feel and that's pretty damn rad.

Way to go :)

[machinalclass]

LET'S DO THIS

My mom reminded me of something this past weekend when she said, many people go to the theatre to sit in the audience - to feel connected, to feel part of something.

One of the biggest reasons why I love the theatre is because it is, at its core, a collaborative and collective experience. This collaboration exists in many forms, each of which is integral to creating a work of theatre and yield beautiful, magical results that are sometimes unexpected and often greater than the sum of their parts. However, one collaboration that I think is often overlooked is that between the actors (or rather what is on stage) and the audience.

It's electric.

By inviting the audience to participate in the experience, the collaborative element is heightened. I often refer to this as "the happiness", a feeling that often rolls over me as a wave - that we’re all in this together, that everything's gonna end up the way it's supposed to be, that we're right where we're supposed to be, that the group's gellin, and that this moment is beautiful. This feeling, "the happiness", creates an unbreakable bond between everyone at each specific performance and everyone who has ever seen the show – a bond that lives on, way past when the curtain comes down.

Personally, I do not think that theatre can exist without an audience. A theatre audience is another character and breathes life into a play and brings a palpable tension, excitement, and spark to the piece. Without the audience, the piece would, over time, become stale and stagnant.

In light of this, I think it is very important to challenge the audience and provoke questions that the audience must wrestle with. Is the Young Woman cray? Is her story universal? What are the social constraints placed upon women? Is anyone, men and women, adults and children, free of these social and cultural constraints? Asking the audience to think critically and differently, and thus forcing them to be active participants rather than passive observers, is one of the best things a piece of theatre can do. The audience is smart and to spell everything out for the audience would be both boring and rude and I think it's wonderful that Machinal left so much to be interpreted.

LET'S DO THIS.

[machinalclass]

tech... kill it

I've been building sets and working in tech since my freshman year of high school. Over the next eight years, I, along with many others, have built and struck the set of numerous plays and musicals.

My love for tech is knows no bounds. However, if I were to really stop and try to break it down and unpack why I love tech - I think it's three-fold.  

1. Theatre is about creating worlds. I love helping to visually bring a particular time and place to life (perhaps for the first time or maybe again) so that people can experience it and take it further. I love helping conceptualize, create, and execute (through lights, sound, costumes, hair/makeup, lobby display, build, and stage managing) the world that will transport the actors and the audience to another time and place - taking everyone involved on a journey.

2. I love watching a show and knowing I had a hand in creating it. Every time someone walked across the depression square, I couldn't help but smile a little inside. From the moment I walked into the show ready to get to work, I was all in. The more work I do on a show, the more I feel a part of it. My soul was in the wood, the steel, the paint, and everything in between. As a result, strike is always a challenging time for me. On one hand I am sad to dismantle something that I have worked on and that has been part of my life for so long. On the other hand, strike is a very cathartic experience - it's closure.

3. The people. The carps, the electricians, the board ops, the designers, the stage managers, the prop masters, the run crew, the FOH crew, the event management gang. These people are my family and I am truly going to miss them when I leave. I mean, don't get me wrong, many of my best friends are actors and I love them to death and think they're truly incredible. But that aside, tech people are my people. I don't know whether it's a result of the production meetings, the inordinate amount of time we spend together, or that we all speak a very similar language, but tech is a family and I am so deeply proud to be a member.

Thank you. xoxo

[machinalclass]

Q: Where did the idea of the honeymoon come from? The act came about in the early 19th century in both England and America. It might be related to the decline of direct family engagement in marriage negotiations. One of the first roles of honeymoons was as “a bridal visit.” You went and visited other relatives, basically introducing each other to them. Originally, they were almost like a period to ease the transition into coupledom. Women often brought a relative or friend along. You would visit other friends or family and bring along a female companion. Q: Women brought friends with them on their honeymoon? That needs to be put in context. At the same time as there was this huge increased emphasis on the couple relationship and being in love — instead of marriage as a utilitarian arrangement — you were getting a redefinition of male and female roles. That was a reaction to the fears of instability, because once marriage is based on love, how do you keep people married? I think in part, as a probably unconscious reaction to that, love got redefined, and male and female roles got redefined. The idea became that men and women are total opposites and they need each other to complete each other. The man is believed to need a woman to have access to emotions and caregiving; and the woman, who is increasingly defined as economically dependent, rather than a coproducer on the family farm, needs a man to have access to the practical parts of life. In some ways, it was a very good arrangement for making men and women think that they needed each other, but in other ways it turned them into strangers. Lots of research shows that one of the results was a sense of marriage trauma on the part of women. Q: Marriage “trauma”? I found lots of letters from the 19th century where women would refer to men as the grosser sex — and this is totally unlike the past. There was a sense of, “I have so much more in common with other women, how will I make this transition to this guy who I need but don’t understand at all?” I suspect that honeymoons arose — totally unlike we think of them today, as getting away from your friends and family to focus on your own sexual intimacy — it was like, “Let’s slow down this traumatic transition.” Q: How has the meaning of the honeymoon changed over time? In the early 20th century, people began to see the downsides of the division of labor and the rigid sexual distinction between nurturing females, sexless females, virtuous females, and then males being all the opposite of that. There began to be a real emphasis on sexual adjustment, on getting mutual sexual pleasure. In the early emerging profession of marriage counseling, people began urging the man and the woman to go [on vacation] together, to make time and effort for this. This is not something men thought of much before the 20th century. In fact, when the first marriage advice book came out for men by Marie Stopes, she got letters from men saying, “Thank you so much, I would never have initiated foreplay with my wife for fear she would think I was treating her like a mistress.” So this sexual tension and estrangement, which I talk about as a sort of coping mechanism in the early draft of the love-based marriage, began to be a real problem. I think some of the emphasis on the honeymoon came as a result of people saying, “You have to learn to get physically satisfied with each other.” This, of course, was also completely jumped upon by the emerging resort and vacation industry. Until the 1940s and ’50s, honeymoons and other vacations were usually something that you drove to rather than flew to.

Before the bridal thong - Salon.com

HUSBAND: Well, we'll get our money's worth.

Yes. I will stop one of these days, but I keep finding these interesting stories that make me think of the show. This article is a Q&A with "marriage historian" Stephanie Coontz. 

[machinalclass]

Finally! What I wanted to show in our last meeting: a compilation of your Machinal warm-ups with special focus on your “Machine” improvisations. Apologies in advance for the shaky camera work, personal giggles, and the shift from horizontal to vertical orientation for the clip from our final performance.

[machinalclass]

oh... seeing this gave me a funny feeling in my stomach. oh dear, i am starting to realize that this wonderful project has finished! the machine of theater keeps on chugging though...

[machinalclass]

Lots of Duke theater still to see this semester!

This weekend and early week next come out and support your fellow theater artists at Duke: 

Parade Book by Alfred Uhry Music and Lyrics by Jason Robert Brown Drew Klingner's distinction project Produced by Hoof 'n' Horn Reynolds Theater, Bryan Center, West Campus April 10-12 & 17-19 at 8 pm April 12, 13 & 19, 20 at 2 pm New Works Festival in collaboration with senior seminar Sheafer Theater, Bryan Center, West Campus April 17-19, 8 pm

The Other Final class showings for Professor Hemphill's Solo Performance class Brody Theater April 21, 7 pm

The Alchemists Final class showings for Professor Conceison's Translation Studies class Sheafer Theater April 22, 7:30 pm

[machinalduke]

For weeks , sometimes months, she creates the fabric of a universe born from her mind within the confines of her 3 x 6 m studio. She does so with infinite minutiae and extraordinary patience, in order to exclude any ulterior photographic alteration. Thus materialised, these worlds turn real and concretise : imagination reverts to the tangible and the photo imagery of such fiction testify as to their reality. In the midst of each of these sets stands the artist : those self-portraits however are never frontal, since it is never her visual aspect she shows, but rather her quest for an identity, her desires and her frame of mind. Her imaginary is a catharsis which allows her to accept social repression and frustrations. The moment required to set the stage gives her time to meditate about the causes of her interior conflicts and hence exorcise them; once experienced, they in turn become portents of hope.

(via JeeYoung Lee)

[machinalclass]

From top to bottom: Nightscape, Nightmare, This is Not Enough, and Anxiety. 

I know … show’s over, but I saw this on The New Yorker’s Facebook feed today and beyond the name double-take I did (given last spring’s Young Jean Lee’s LEAR) I also flashed on Jody’s question in the Senior colloquium about expressionist art. Another amazing example of the world according to the artist’s subjective point of view. I particularly liked the last image of “Anxiety,” which seems to be perfect bubbles of white paint that have the effect of boils on the skin of an everyday domestic arrangement. Completely put me in the mind of how the Young Woman might see her home space(s).

[machinalclass]

Some of my favorites from the work of Les Todd (Duke photographer). One of these will probably be the one that goes on the wall in the main office. 

[machinalclass]

I believe this is the program that our own michaelfmyers and rm174 have been working on (in their copious free time this past weeks). Note that registration is required (and lunch is served). So visit the Duke Dance Program to sign up!

[machinalclass]

Audience Reception + Final Thoughts

I wish I could say "Let's start with opening night," but to be very honest, I don't remember much of it. I'm always most nervous on opening night, so the nerves got in the way of forming solid memories :) But honestly, opening night is such a mystery to me. Given that that night is probably when most actors are the most nervous and that that's probably when we're all least prepared, in my head, it always feels like one of the best performances which goes to show how nervousness and anxiety can actually do some good sometimes.

What I do feel that we lacked opening night was listening to the audience, which was something that we picked up as the days passed on. I don't think that I can properly articulate what "listening" to them means, but there really is something different in the air with each group of people. Some nights I could feel audience members around me agreeing with me when I'd look off into the side and make fun of my daughter: "You just said you wanted to talk!" In moments like that, where I was facing away from the other actor on stage and was closer (physically) to the audience, I really could feel some connection with the audience, like as if they were silently backing me up. Like as if some other parent was sitting by me and was silently nodding their head because they, too, knew what my character was voicing. Or some nights in Prohibited, for example, I felt much more self-conscious of how my character was speaking of abortion in public(!). I don't know if it actually manifested itself into the performance, but I was most definitely had it as subtext. 

Having an audience made the most difference for me during The Law where I had the rare opportunity of looking into audience members' eyes, feeding lines to them because they, theoretically, were jury members themselves and my objective was to convince them. Usually, people were not comfortable with me looking straight at them. I was speaking about murder, after all. But it was really nice to have rows and rows of people to perform to for the Law, which is something that I think I was never entirely able to rehearse beforehand. To be entirely honest, I don't think The Law every really "clicked" for me until the show opened. That goes to show what an Audience can do :)

Last, last Monday (April 7th), I noticed that my throat was beginning to feel a little bit itchy. I didn't think much of it and continued throughout my days. I felt fine in our pick-up rehearsal and I felt fine on Wednesday. In fact, Wednesday night I was watching a horror movie in the common room and was "screaming my lungs out" (in terror) with ease; no sickness in sight. Thursday morning, however, I woke up struggling to speak. I was living an actor's nightmare: I had 4 performances ahead of me and I was losing my voice. Interestingly, the same exact thing happened in high school a few days before opening night of my first play. The thing is that then, I knew that I was getting sick several days before opening night, and I was able to do a full run of the show with the failing voice.  It was not like with Machinal where I woke up on opening night of our second weekend to find that I had a croaky voice.

Losing my voice, well...it was what it was. Gargling salt water, drinking tea, saving my voice, and eating spoonfuls of honey could only do so much. Interestingly, Jules made a comment that my losing my voice really made the audience hang onto my words, like they had to make an extra effort to hear them. While during the first weekend I was much more focused on making a new choreography involving the now physical props for The Law, the second weekend I was dealing with the voice. I now had to be extremely economical on which lines I would scream because, physically, I was limited. 

Now that it is all said and done, however, I think losing my voice provided me with an extremely interesting (and hopefully rare!) experience. That, combined with the fact that we suddenly had live bodies in the room to watch us perform truly allowed me to see Machinal in a different shade of light. The audience laughed on lines that I didn't think were funny, were quiet on ones that I thought were, "backed" me up in some of my moments as the Mother, and listened to my story as I figuratively tore the Young Woman's story down. My voice, or lack thereof, made me more conscious of the rest of my physical being and allowed me to hear my lines in a new way (literally as well as figuratively). 

All in all, Machinal was a beautiful experience. I am so grateful for having been given this opportunity, and I am thankful for the wonderful people that I was able to share it with. I love you all. Congratulations to all of us.

[machinalclass]

Shop Diaries Confession: I am Trigger-Happy

In high school, we had one motto for sets: "the simpler, the better." While we often justified it in our minds as being for artistic reasons (although often times, it might have been -- think "Our Town" or Florida State Thespian Festival competitions where quick scene changes were a total must... right, Jessica?), it usually was because of budget constraints. Machinal, however, was entirely different. For the first time in my theater career, I had a real-life 3-D set that was more than just a few handheld props, a backdrop, and a black box or two.

In my shop hours, I was in charge laying floor panels. While this task seems extremely simple at face-value, it absolutely wasn't.

You begin by laying down one floor panel (let's assume this is the very first tile of the floor segment and that we're beginning at a corner for ease). You place the staple gun perpendicular to the panel and staple down the corner of the panel and about a quarter of the way away from the ends (or just in the middle of the panel if the panel was particularly small). So far, so simple. Here's the rub: sometimes the gun's pressure would begin to creep down, forcing you to attempt to put a staple down several times before it finally went through. And then, if you put the pressure up and it was too high, the staple would punch straight through the panel, essentially making a whole in it. The pressure had to be set just right so that the staple would go through within 1-2 tries, and only deep enough so that the edge of the staple would be just a millimeter or two above the panel surface itself. I don't know why, but the pressure gun needed readjusting every half hour or so. (Still, the staple gun is a fabulous tool!)

Once that one panel was down, we had to place the next panel down, staple, place panel down, staple, etc. until we had the last panel that would fit in that row. We couldn't staple down this last panel until we had marked off where the panel needed to be sawed. Jamie Bell taught me how to use the saw machine, which was quite exhilarating because its such a large saw and makes a terrible amount of noise for slicing through really, really thin wood that anyone could break with their bare hands and brute force if they really wanted to. We would then place that newly-sliced wood panel on its designated location and staple, staple, staple.

The next challenge came in adding a new row of wood panels. This is because you had to place this other, slightly thicker wood panel in between the old row and the new row so as to add the perfect amount of spacing. So one person would have to squeeze the new panel/row against the spacer and then a second person would have to staple down the new panel. And the process continued until about half of the floor had been covered. (An obvious and long overdue shout-out to the David and everyone else at the shop for finishing the set and doing a tremendous job!)

Having done this task of panel-laying made strike quite interesting in that what had taken me, Tierney and Jamie hours to place down took Max just 45 minutes to remove. Well, at least part of it.  Remember all those staples that the better half of us were removing for a good hour or so? All of that was from placing the floor panels down. And it really got me thinking: how do you strike the balance between making the set "sturdy" enough so as to make it look clean, professional, and well-done for the performances, but not make things too permanent, so to speak, making the striking process of the set harder than it could have been.

Put simply, I wish I had been less trigger-happy with the staple gun. 

- Roxy

[machinalclass]

HOT DOG(s). They are what's for dinner!!