To say that this new reworking of Cyrano is ambitious would be an understatement. In just over an hour, the play manages to be both an unforgiving mirror which invites the gay male community to look at itself, as well as a quick-witted satire of that community as well.
On the 19th, I attended Hannush's Under, performed by The Con-Etiquette Players. Using flashbacks between a psychiatric hospital and Yale University, a group of millennials explore the themes of friendship, mental illness and ambition.
The New York International Fringe Festival this summer includes a new opera by Matthew Zachary Johnson: The Boston Tea Party Opera. This show marks a new direction in his work. Johnson is the composer of a body of often-performed classical saxophone works.
At times absurd and slightly twisted -- adjectives not wholly unwarranted when describing people who've garnered fame for no discernible talent -- this show manages to maintain both its humor and heart.
Working on this play is unlike anything I have ever worked on as an actor. We got random pieces of the script at a time, instead of a complete script. We actually received a completed Scene 3 before we had written Scene 2.
DeAr FrInGe DiArY: If U don't have a !BiG AuDiEnCe! for your show, a cool way to get ppl 2 come CU is to scream at them while already in costume for that show. Ppl will be so impressed that u r in character 24/7 that they will HAVE to come see you.
It's hard to believe this festival is in a little city in Scotland, because it's big. Well, big doesn't do this thing justice -- The Fringe is bigger than big. It's huge, massive, enormous, or in American terms, it's super-sized.
There's a delicate art to selling a show at the Edinburgh Fringe. When my sister was helping me flyer for the show I'm producing at the 2012 Fringe, we discovered an entirely new flyering move -- straight-up lying.
Summerhall is a terrifically cool space, with a fascinating community of international artists wandering in and out of its nearly 500 rooms, playing music, watching films, hanging from the ceiling fans, getting naked, and making art in all mediums.
I miss my child, I'm anxious about opening night, and still there's a vein of joy running through my day, through these streets. There's no need to feel motion sick from swaying between these disparate identities. There's room for all of it here. I'm right at home.
Most comics there have done the Fringe, and all had great stories to tell. But two separate female comics in two separate conversations told me I was going to have a lot of fun, then both said, in these exact words, "but you'll cry quite a lot." Cry? I'm going to cry?
I've always told my siblings that I would only move to Texas if I were on my death bed -- and now that seems likely. The medical system is excellent, and it's my mother who is. Dying, I mean. And therein lies my dilemma.
If you've never been to the Fringe, let me paint a little picture: imagine being an athlete headed for Olympics, except instead of training for the big event with daily exercise and drills, you down BLT triples, sleep weird hours, and drink like a sailor to cope with stress.