Flashback: Minority Status Quo [CCC, 1995]

Today, I begin a new series in which I will discuss shows that I have produced, directed, or written in the past. The purpose is not to revel in nostalgia, but rather talk about the lessons leaned with each production and how those things inform what I do now. These installments will be occasionally tossed in between the regular review segments at irregular intervals. Hopefully, some of you will enjoy going down memory lane with me.

The first play I ever wrote started as bits and pieces of a screenplay I was working on in high school in 1992, which is the year I graduated. That movie script was going to be called The Pioneers (after the name of the OCHS sports team), and it was going to be a topical teenage drama about a lot of different things, from bullying to abortion to being gay and in the closet. Remember, in 1992, some of these things were only just beginning to have a public forum, and there was a lot of politics surrounding such topics, just as there is today, except the details of the struggle differ slightly from back then.

By the time I had taken acting and theatre appreciation classes in college, I had developed a real affection for live theatre. I wanted to write a show that I could produce as a student project as Clackamas Community College where I was getting my transfer degree. I decided to revisit the abandoned Pioneers screenplay and see if I could mine it for some dramatic gold. I'd have to choose just one of the several story lines to focus on. I settled on the story of the closeted gay boy (Martin), and I found a way to work in two of the screenplay's other characters as foils for his self-examination: Zeke Marvel, the outspoken lead singer for a garage band, and Wendy, the leader of the high school Christian club. I asked myself, "What would happen if these three people were locked in a room together and forced to talk for a couple of hours?"

Of course, my problem--which would never actually be resolved--was that there was no good way to force these characters to be together outside of their own will. One early critique of the script went something like: "I cannot make myself believe that these three people would willingly stay in the same room together after hurling insults at each other, having nothing in common, when it would be so easy to just leave." But I did my best to overcome that challenge by setting up a situation where everyone had a reason to want to talk to each other. Martin just needs someone to confide in, and he figures Zeke is the school freak who's got no room to judge anybody. So Martin invites Zeke over. Zeke comes over because he likes to exploit people's dramas for song-writing material. And Wendy comes over, uninvited, because she thinks she can bring the recently-outed Martin to Jesus and ultimately repentance from a sinful lifestyle. So there they are. And they argue. And they fight. And the reconcile. And they have a million reasons for leaving, and a million and one reasons for staying. They hash it out. The text reads a little bit like a political debate between a gay rights activist and a preacher with a little heckling thrown in. It was didactic. But it was such a balanced discussion of the issues, I must say I was pretty pleased with myself by the finished product, which I called Minority Status Quo.

I got the opportunity to direct it as a student project, thanks to newly installed drama chair, David Smith-English, in spring of 1995, which was the last term before I got my Associates Degree. It was an intense whirlwind of a time because I had a LOT going on that term. That was probably one of the busiest times ever for me. I got a mostly great cast, featuring Craig McCarty as Zeke (I had worked with Craig in some projects in acting class the previous year, and he had become a rather big cultural influence in my life, and I think I ended up modeling the character of Zeke partly from the way I saw Craig in my mind) and Jennifer Johnson as Wendy. The central character of Martin was played by Jeffrey Woods, and here's the first lesson I want to talk about from this play. And this is nothing against Woods. He has gone on to become an amazing lighting and set designer, but has mostly left acting behind. He wasn't terrible, but I can see why his strengths were more in technical theatre. I cast him because I simply liked him and wanted to work with him, but his performance as Martin was very low-key and lacked the urgency of the inner turmoil of the character. And I was a new director too, so I didn't know how to draw out a stronger performance. In hindsight, it would have been better for me to look harder for a better match for that character.

Shifting now to some comments on the set, which I think I'm more proud of than anything. The mainstage production at the time was Betty the Yeti. The set for Betty the Yeti was several large mounds of dirt scattered across the small stage. Now, when you're doing a student production, you can usually move some furniture and things from the mainstage to accommodate your needs. You still have to live with the immovable parts of the set (the walls, etc), but it's something you can adjust to pretty easily. Not the case here. We could not move the giant mounds of dirt! So the question became, how do we hide them? Well, fortunately, there was a large area, down center, that had no dirt. I guess it was the primary playing area of Betty. So what we did was took a couple of 2-foot high knee-walls and created a boundary in front of where the dirt began. They were at a 90 degree angle from each other to represent two walls of our set. But because they were only two feet high, we had to do something to suggest the rest of the wall. Of course, this is a high school boy's room, and it's going to want to have posters of favorite bands and movies, etc. But without walls, how do you do it? And I don't remember if it was me or my brilliant lighting/set designer Chris Steffen who came up with this, but we got long narrow strips of 1x4, but the same length as the knee-walls. We attached those to the ceiling and then attached posters through varying lengths of wire to hang down from the boards and create a brilliant wall effect. And because there were two "walls" at a 90 degree angle, it looked very realistic. It didn't matter that there was no tangible wall in between the posters. The posters themselves did the job. (And I want to give a shout out to Chris Steffen, who has gone on to work in all kind of high profile film and TV stuff as a techie.)

I should backtrack a little bit here to talk more about the development process. When you're doing a new work--and especially if the writer and director are the same person--there is a lot of room for flexibility and collaboration and feedback. This process was sometimes challenging (I was thin-skinned and, you know, your works are your babies), but also very productive and rewarding. There were some things that got changed in the process. One my great mentors, the late Barbara Bragg, read an early version of the script, and her response was, "Where's the drama?" In other words, I had plenty of thoughtful and topical content in my dialogue, but none of it was very high stakes. I needed to learn ways to heighten the tension, and also to make it less static. One thing I did was add moments of physical conflict, times when the characters would get so heated that a beverage got tossed in someone's face, a brownie got shoved down someone else's throat, and a role-playing game got out hand and turned into a brawl. One could argue that I over-compensated here, and had more physical stuff than I needed to, but it served the purpose of punctuating the intensity of the conversation.

Another thing I explored was creative movement. I added sort of an expressionist interpretive dance piece where the characters transformed themselves into a lion, a lamb, and a snake. This game helped to bring out the characters' inner prejudices. This was very influential for me, going forward. As a writer, I would continue to explore that kind of experimental aspect, plunked right down in the middle of the ordinary. I also added a celebratory slam dance towards the end of the play when the characters had more or less become simpatico. In the end, these additions may have made the play less realistic, but a lot more interesting to watch.

I learned the value of getting audience feedback. Barbara did something unusual for me with this one. She always made her theatre appreciation class attend and write up the student one acts. She collected a whole bunch of the reviews that students had written and gave them to me to read. It was such a special and rewarding experience because we had an audience of a wide range of different beliefs and philosophies. Some people thought I leaned on the Christian side, others thought I was totally on the gay side, never realizing that both perspectives were from my own life experience. But the really awesome thing is, no matter what people's religious and political leanings were, they loved the play. They thought it was honest and sincere and moving. They did not have to agree with every point of view expressed in order to get something from it.

I've done many productions since that time, but Minority Status Quo will always have a special place in my heart.

Spring television

Don't worry, I'm not going to write an in-depth analysis of every show I watch, but maybe just a brief mention of what I'm watching, and why. And highlight some special ones. A few entries ago, in talking about American Crime, I lamented the fact that we've mostly written off the major networks in favor of the often more challenging, provocative offerings of cable. Then I suggested those generalizations aren't always true. Let's see if that still holds up.

The Family

Just about when American Crime was ending on ABC, The Family was beginning. It is an ensemble drama about an affluent family in Maine whose mom (played by Joan Allen, in a shiver-inducing performance of amazing iceberg frigidity, even in her softest moments) is running for Mayor. Soon her young son Adam gets kidnapped and things are thrown into chaos...but she still wins the mayoral election. Why let a kidnapping stop her? And indeed, the whole family has this same ambitious attitude. Why let the lack of a body stop them from assuming murder and framing the known-pedophile neighbor (played by a surprisingly cast executive producer Andrew McCarthy)? Why continue to look for answers when you can bury your dark secrets in booze, adultery, and repressed self-hating lesbian obsession? 

Okay, I admit this show is a little tawdry. Even the network describes it as "your favorite guilty pleasure." But things take a slight tonal shift when Adam shows up again ten years later. Liam James is nearly unrecognizable from his role in that nostalgic comedy The Way Way Back from a couple years ago. He is also, as it turns out, unrecognizable as the family's lost Adam. Well, who can blame him? He's been stuck in a child molester's forested secret underground dungeon for the last ten years. He's all grown up now, and boy is he dirty! Now his mom is trying to run for Governor, but will this amazing turn of fate cause her to slow down her campaign? Of course not. 

Lots of soap-worthy drama ensues, and many unlikely plot twists. This is not American Crime, folks. But it is fun, in spite of the sideshow dysfunction. Alison Pill delivers what might be the show's strongest performance as a deeply troubled, manipulative, but ultimately dutiful daughter whose primary purpose in life seems to be to "fix things" at whatever cost. Liam James also brings a level of humanity to a family that is otherwise strongly lacking in people to root for. In spite of the sensationalist trappings, The Family is strongest when it focuses on the boy's victim-hood and hopeful recovery. 

As I write this, the show is mid-season. There are surprises that I haven't given away here, and more that I have yet to see. I'll revisit it when it's over. For now, I suggest catching up with it, because it is at least entertaining. 

The Ranch

I never really liked Ashton Kutcher. (Oh sure, he's attractive, and he even is okay in his acting ability, but something about early works like That 70's Show and Dude, Where's My Car? left an indelible impression, and not a positive one.) So why I would set about to watch a ten-episode comedy series on Netflix with him as its main star, I'm not exactly sure. It's probably because the lure of Sam Elliott attracted my parents, and I'm always looking for stuff to watch with them. 

The Ranch is a show about a washed-out football player named Colt (Kutcher) who returns home to live with his crusty, cranky dad, Beau (Elliott) and his uber-heathen brother Rooster (Danny Masterson), where he is subjected to hard ranch work, old flames, familial jealousy, and his own personal demons. By the way, it's a hilarious comedy, complete with distracting laugh track. Two other actors I should mention: Debra Winger as the mom, and Bret Harrison (a Tualatin native who I directed in a play 16 years ago and never tire of reminding people). 

There's really not a whole lot to say about The Ranch, other than the fact that beneath all the insults and depraved humor, there is a tender heart of a family that, in spite of its dysfunction, loves one another...which might be more than you can say for the family of the The Family (above). I suppose if there's one thing I don't really like, it's the Rooster character who is a little too crass and self-absorbed for my taste. I get it--that's what makes him funny. But it's not really my thing. 

Comments on other shows

Blindspot started terrible, but it's gotten better in 2016. The stories, more in depth character development, and the addition of Francois Arnaud to the cast, all contribute to the show's improvement. Major Crimes had a terrible 5-week arc that was tacked on as a season closer; boring and pedantic, I say skip it. Bates Motel had a rocky beginning to its fourth season, but it's gotten better. Norman is a little more crazy, and Norma is a little less so...at least for now. You can't help but root for her marriage to the sheriff. And the romantic union of Emma and Dylan is sweet beyond words, and Max Thieriot retains his status, in my humble estimation, as the most beautiful man on earth (that I'm aware of anyway). Limitless remains one of my favorite shows, also a network show, so less popular. It is funny and innovative, as well as being a nice procedural. I really hope it gets renewed. Bosch Season Two on Amazon Prime is not as engaging nor as accessible as Season One, but actor Titus Welliver makes it well worth the effort. The Real O'Neals is a funny comedy about growing gay in a Catholic household, and it's got the always-wonderful Martha Plimpton and a strong young lead in Noah Galvin. I suppose it may be inevitable to have sacrilegious content when you put Catholicism and homosexuality head to head in a comedy, but I could do without "Slacker Hippy Jesus" popping up in the young protagonist's imagination, an image of Christ that kind of offends my own sensibilities. But no, I'm not lacking in a sense of humor, and that's why I still watch it. I watched the first episode of Game of Silence, which turned out to be a retread of the simple-minded and homophobic film Sleepers, so I won't be watching any more of that. 

Becky's New Car

There’s nothing subtle when you walk into this lobby. There are cars everywhere—model cars on tables, posters of cars on the walls, a real auto enthusiast’s dream. (Come to think of it, I’m surprised my dad didn’t hang out in the lobby for much longer to look at it all.) And then when you walked into the theatre itself, the theme continued. There were “lanes” made of yellow and white tape on the carpet in the aisles. There were road signs on the walls on either side of the audience. And the stage itself completed the picture; even though there were three playing areas to represent a living room, an office, and a back porch, the walls had multiple floating road signs, and the stage was painted as a road, leading from upstage to downstage center. Before you get to your seat, you’re thinking, “Okay, I get it, I get it! This is about cars and roads and destinations.” 

Yes, but only metaphorically, you see.

The auto-themed presentation didn’t stop there though. The soundtrack was full of songs about cars and driving, the best and most relevant of which was Traci Chapman’s 1980’s hit, “Fast Car”, which is actually a slow and sad song. I would give points for “I Drove All Night”, but they didn’t use the gut-wrenching Cyndi Lauper version; I don’t know what version they used.

Becky’s New Car is a relatively recent play by popular playwright Steven Dietz. And it is indeed about journeys and destinations, and stops along the long—or short, depending on your perspective—road of life. It focuses on a seemingly cheerful, middle-aged housewife and mother of a grown son who lives in the basement (hate those slackers). Her job is successful…enough. Her marriage is happy…enough. And yet something in her life is just not…enough. Her husband is distant, her son is entitled, and her job is thankless. When a confused and wealthy man shows her more attention than she’s used to, she takes advantage, unleashing a series of events (both comic and dramatic) that effects the lives of everyone she knows and loves.

This play is a star vehicle for a leading lady, so you’d better have a good one. And HART does in this production. Patti Speight strikes that perfect balance of humor and the restless ennui that propels her title character to make the wrong choices in a late shot at happiness. There isn’t a time when we don’t empathize with what she’s feeling or are unable to understand her actions. Although this dramedy teeters dangerously close to sitcom territory at times, it is saved by Speight’s solid and reliable performance.

And, really, all the performances are strong here. I always have to give a shout out to my friend Paul Roder, who is a character in life and is thus always an interesting one on stage. Finding comedy in a character’s pain and tragedy is not an easy thing to pull off, but Roder takes us to that edge of morbidity without throwing us over. Carl Dalquist’s performance as the wide-eyed son--at first selfish and pretentious, then startled and affected by love—is his best that I’ve seen yet. And Bryan Luttrell, as the widower who mistakes Becky for a widow, is at once quirky, awkward, vulnerable, and intensely likable. And I’ll whisper you a secret: my heart was most with this character.

Most any problems I had were not with the production itself, but with the script. Dietz is a great writer, but it’s hard to strike the delicate balance between comedy and drama. I don’t think he is entirely successful here. And I really dislike plays that require audience interaction when you’re not expecting it. Not only are audience members put on the spot in the position of wondering what the right response should be, but it also takes you out of the world of the story. Breaking the fourth wall is okay, but there are rules that should be adhered to. Either have only one person talk to the audience and be aware of them, or have everyone in on it. This play was consistent with only one fourth wall-breaker (Becky herself) until the final scene. When the husband does it, it throws you off.

Lastly, there was a moment when I thought the play was going to end, with Betty alone in the car, talking to the audience. My personal wish is that it had ended there. It would have been much stronger. But instead, the play lasts about 15 more minutes in order to tie things up in a nice bow, which would be all right if it didn’t represent a turn towards the didactic. Moral ambiguity goes out the window, and Life Lessons are thrust upon us.

She should have just kept on driving.