I had a fabulous (but way too brief) visit to the thespianically sumptuous Oregon Shakespeare Festival in Ashland last week. It's more than a gem of a small town, and more than a buffet of handsomely and brilliantly performed and produced plays. What struck me most was the sense of Home Team Theater. And a hilarious Hamlet.
Hamlet (Dan Donohue) and Horatio (Armando Durán) find themselves at Ophelia's funeral. Photo by David Cooper.
OSF hires an ensemble of talented actors to perform in rep and in residence for nine months at a stint. Besides allowing OSF to produce long runs of plays (some all season), it makes stars out of their actors. Most of the actors have been in residence for multiple seasons, letting audiences become long term fans. Even if only for a weekend of shows, audiences can track actors' work - following them from part to part. I overheard this energized fascination for an actor's breadth during the intermission for the charmingly blushed production of She Loves Me directed by Rebecca Taichman.
"Mom. That was Hamlet. For real," a mussy-headed teenage boy whispered, jostling his mother in the next row. "Hamlet was singing. Hamlet was so funny!"
His mother and all his mussy-headed friends agreed -- Hamlet (they never referred to the actor, Dan Donohue's real name) was the best actor, like, ever. Exact quote.
This brood had just seen Donohue perform the most coveted classical role in Western Drama the night before (in Bill Rauch's updated production that I look forward to seeing). Tonight they were seeing Mr. Donohue play a scene-stealing angry maître d' in OSF's honeyed musical romantic comedy, wherein this sometimes Prince of Denmark gets ass-pinched by a lobster. (It's unabashedly hilarious). And these kids were wild for it. But they were wild for the duality, not the singularity, of the experience. They were wild for the distinction and diversity on display. The were amazed by both productions, not just one (about half the boys favored the kissy musical and half favored Shakespeare's metaphysical masterpiece -- go figure). They were responding to the changeable, surprising, craft of theater as a craft.
And how blissful it is to hear "Hamlet was funny" at a Shakespeare festival.
The Head Waiter (Dan Donohue) explains how things run at the cafe to Georg Nowack (Mark Bedard). Photo by Jenny Graham.
That's Home Team Theater. When an audience is given the time and opportunity to see an actor, love an actor, and commit to an actor. Fellow playwright Josh Tobiessen compared this experience to baseball -- the loyalty and delight of rooting for a home team hero. You know them, you love them, you cheer every time they come up to bat. We decided that we might even need actor baseball cards with stats ... or is that just a headshot/resume. Whatever. "I'll trade you a Pacino in Merchant for a Donohue in Hamlet. Anybody?"
We see this stardom dedication with film and TV actors of course (which is why Broadway is full of them); and in some ensemble-based theater companies. It's just so clear that fostering a solid local family within a theatrical community is a pure gift to audiences and to actors. Sure it's kinda cool to have a famous/semi-famous actor in your show, but outside of New York I'm not so sure it it really matters. In fact I've always heard such frustration and confusion from local acting communities that bemoan the practice of many big LORT Theaters that hire primarily out of New York. The audiences get to see a NY resume in the program (with the requisite Law and Order appearance), but after the run of the show they don't see these actors again (except on Law and Order). This doesn't create community, and for working artists it often strains it.
Exceptions are many, of course. Sometimes your community doesn't have the exact Ophelia you're looking for. And there are amazing actors living in NYC and working around the country. And boards often want famous faces on their stages. And OSF is a nearly impossible-anywhere-else haven of big time theater with small-town logistics (many OSF actors are from NYC). The OSF ensemble is overwhelmed with talent (the entire cast of SHE LOVES ME deserved the thunderous standing ovation and more), the productions are sumptuously designed and executed with vision and resources, the audiences are loyal and plenty. Not everyone has that combination of abundance with which to play.
But there's a lesson here for us all. Something about fostering more local "stars" in our own theatrical communities, which might just foster audience loyalty -- and has got to save theaters some money these days while certainly helping support local talent. Something about creating, sustaining, and further promoting a Theater Home Team atmosphere -- whether its actors, writers, directors, designers. Or is it just something about collectible theater trading cards? Anyone?
"Think Global, Art Local" is not a new thought but one worth emphasizing as this recession make us all reevaluate our strategies for the creation and sustaining of new performing art. I'm sure these administrative conversations are taking place in regional theaters throughout the US. But as I sat in the audience of She Loves Me, I was simply struck by the immediate and energetic relationship these kids had to theater as a whole through Donohue's Hamlet/Funny Waiter Guy. They had ownership and connection -- walking out after the show they were abuzz and ready to see what Hamlet was up to next. Love it.
My colleagues know how theater works. We know that actors create different living portraits in every role, just as directors and designers reimagine style and process in ever production, and playwrights conceive of strange and distinct cosmos in every play. But it was a thrill to hear these young kids get excited because they saw what theater does best: offer wild and different worlds every night. Professional theater artists can remember and encourage the audience's blooming wonder in what we do. If it takes turning the great Hamlet into a Lobster-Assed Clown, I'm for it. Theater was made for the breadth of experience, just like our audiences.