00055: THE SIGNS OF BURNED OUT ARE SHOWING!!!

I have been directing for many years, more than I care to admit. In my long years as a theatre director, I have learned many things, mainly that I don't know everything. Throughout my directing tenure I have made mistakes from which I have learned some important lessons. Regardless of the benefits, the majority of those mistakes have been forgotten; they're gone with the wind. Others, however, still lurk in the back of my mind just to remind me that, although I may be a theatre director, I am not that good of a theater director. In short, the many mistakes I have made in my directing career have kept me in check. 

One of the biggest mistakes I made long ago, was allowing the artistic director of a certain company to influence my casting decision. I had the perfect actor for a specific role. And being that such role was very important within the show, I knew this particular actor was the perfect match for the role. This actor had the commanding voice the character required. They also had the singing chops the role demanded. (I was directing a musical.) They had the acting chops, the attitude, and a very clear understanding of the character. Yet, when it came to casting the show, I allowed the artistic director to dictate who the actor for that specific role should be. I knew it was the wrong choice, so I fought back, but after some going back and forth, I gave in and cast the person they wanted.

Through the rehearsal process, I quickly realized what an incredible mistake I had made by casting such an actor. I went back to the artistic director and voiced my worried about the casting choice. I was told I was exaggerating and that the actor was fine; "They just needed practice." A few days later, I unintentionally learned that the actor I had cast had provided a hefty donation and had also promised free advertising for the theater's season. You cannot imagine the anger and the disappointment I felt toward myself at that moment, as well as the guilt I felt for the rest of the cast. 

Through the rehearsal process I tried my best to ignore anger, doubts, and struggles; I honestly made an effort to work around the actor's inefficiencies. Behind the scenes, the cast worried about the actor's inability to perform its best and, behind closed doors, they continually questioned the reason(s) why I had cast such an actor. The night the show opened, the actor froze in the middle of his most important song. The orchestra kept on playing, revamping over and over, and over, but nothing. The actor just stood on stage, looking out the audience, terrified. Other actors tried to help him by "humming" the lyrics and some even started singing some of the lines. But no one knew what to do because no one ever expected the actor to completely freeze on stage the way they did. And as I witness such event from the audience, my heart sunk along with my body. By the time the actor came back from whatever stage fright trip they had taken, the damage had been done.

After the show, the company hold a reception for patrons, theater donors, special guests, the cast, and crew. The infamous actor didn't show. And I wish I could have done the same but, as a director, I was expected to mingle with the crowd. I tell you, I never felt so uneasy in my life, and if I'm a master at faking smiles and "good times," this was the biggest test and I passed with flying colors. The next day, when the theatre review appeared in the main city's paper (yes, those existed back then), all my greatest fears were confirmed. All the actors were praised for their work and efforts, except one, of course. But the majority of the review concentrated on the directing, stating that I, as a director, did not had a clear understanding of the material because of some of my casting choices. The theatre reviewer went on to say that I perhaps I was not the right person to direct that particular musical or any musical for that matter. That comment hurt me the most for just a few months before, a very successful run of a much bigger musical had ended, and I had been praised for my directing vision and my unique approach to the material. It hadn't been in that particular city with that particular company, but still.  

I tell this story for two reasons: the first one is obvious, such experienced scared me for life and even now, after so many years, it still hunts me. The second, which is something I had never spoken about, is the fact that my biggest theatre mentor, my first acting and directing teacher, my guide, told me how disappointed they were because of show's results. I tried to explain myself and I even said, "Look, you know I got this gig because of my work on Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Raincoat, which I directed and choreographed, by the way." It wan't my fault. I was forced to cast that actor. My mentor got very upset and even told me to stop making up excuses and accept my errors or I would never become a better person or director.

Our talk turned into an argument and I remember seeing my theater idol angrily walking away and leaving me standing in the middle of the room. After that exchange, I felt very disappointed in myself and also very hurt. I thought that if there was at least one person that could actually understand what had happened with that particular production, that person would be my mentor. Unfortunately I had created faulty expectations. As a result, I built a lot of resentment toward my mentor. In fact, after that encountered, we would never speak to each other again and I would never seek their mentorship. My mentor had been a pillar and theatre pioneer for the city and community, so when he passed, I only attended the funeral services, out of respect for said theater community. I was physically present but like Morales from A Chorus Line, I felt nothing. 

Today, I'm directing a play that could have been done with 12 actors. Instead, because I wanted to give opportunities to everyone and also "contribute to the building of our theatre program," I double the casting number. We have only been in rehearsal for a month and I'm already regretting my casting choice. Too many absences, too many unprepared actors, too many... well, no matter the reason(s), It's not their fault. I made the decision to cast them and I'm responsible to make sure they all understand the importance of punctuality and the responsibility of being part of a theatre production. 

I know that at the end, everything is going to turn out fine. The actors will know their lines and they will have their moment under the spotlight. The show will open and close and there will be something to celebrate by the end of the semester. Yet, the incidents happening right now, with students arriving late or calling in sick, is bothersome, and obviously is bringing up emotions and unresolved issues from the past. The skeletons in my closet are showing. 

There are sudden instances where I think I made the mistake of casting against my gut, and all because "I want to give students opportunities and help our theatre department grow". Or maybe my mistake is that I'm too soft nowadays and don't rule with an iron fist as I used to. Or maybe I'm just too old now to deal with the younger generations and their woke approaches to everything. Or maybe I have reached my limit, I'm burned out, tired, old, and directing shows with big cast numbers is no longer something I should be doing. Or maybe the time has come to retire. Yes, that's it! The time has come to retire. Wouldn't it be lovely? Unfortunately I'm too poor to stop working and not old enough to call it quits. I just have to take this project one day at a time, breathing every time I get a notice saying that so and so won't be there because of "this and that," and breathing once again because an actor doesn't have a pencil to take down blocking or they decided to go to the greenroom the moment they stepped out of their scene. Whatever the news, I just have to take big breaths and keep on going. 

Breathe, Carlos-Manuel. Breathe. 

00054: WHY WOULD I MISPRONOUNCE MY OWN NAME?

Let's start with the obvious. Irma Herrera is not an actor, and I don't mean this in a negative way. She's a "writer, solo performer, social justice activista, lawyer, and world traveler." That's how she introduces and identifies herself on her website, irmaherreradotcom. But more than a "solo performer," I would say Irma is a storyteller and she proves that in her one-woman show: "Why Would I Mispronounce my Own Name?" presented at Central Stage in Richmond CA.

The original production was directed by Rebecca Fisher and while I don't know the exact date of the show's original opening, information from Irma's website makes me believe the show first happened around the year 2021. The production I saw last September 2024 still credits Rebecca Fisher as the director. 

The show tells the story of Irma herself, who talks about the fact that her name is pronounce IRMa or, in my better phonetic English assimilation: ear-ma but never ur-ma or ERma. Not only does Irma talks about the importance of standing up to people who mispronounce your name but also about the courage it takes to stand up and correct them when mispronouncing it. I connected with this bit of the show, mainly because my name is Carlos-Manuel and back in high school some teachers called me Karlos-Manual... and I never corrected them.

In her show, Irma also addressed the issue of colorism within our own community and how her mother always told her she was "como una mosca en la leche-like a fly in the milk," referring to the fact that her skin was darker when compared to other family members. This section of the show made me laugh because, when I was young, while we never say anything related to flies and milk, we always use the word "prieto" when trying to remind someone that they were not as "white as they should be" or worse, as "white as we were." For the record, we are brown people, darker than our European American neighbors. We have never, ever been white. 

Irma's show does not just revolved on her personal experiences growing up but also addresses national issues such as politics and the danger of using and/or making fun of names which are different than those used by European Americans. She also highlights the irony about being a person of color and serving in the military but then, when done from your military duties, being ignored, mistreated, and worse, killed in the country you defended. The irony is, if it escapes you, fighting and surviving a war only to comeback to the country you were born and then be shot by racist people, who demand you go "back to your country" because of the color of your skin. Sad but very much a reality in the "greatest country of the world."

As a storyteller, Irma carries herself with ease, and her soft voice forces the audience to closely pay attention to her words and narrative. And while her show is already written, it is easy to note, at least to me, where new information was inserted in order to keep some of the discussed subjects as current as possible, which works fine because the one-hour show is full of insight, educational tidbits, jokes, personal moments, connections with the audience, and a few surprises that make "Why Would I Mispronounce my Own Name?" a must see theatrical experience. 

00053: CHOIR BOY

The first time I heard about Tarrell Alvin McCraney was for his play WIG OUT!, which I saw at the Royal Court Theatre in London. The show was an unforgettable theatrical experience so, naturally, when I was in NYC and ran into information about a new play by the author, I had to see it.

It turns out the play was CHOIR BOY, a play I knew nothing about except for the fact that, because of its titled and its author, I figured it had to do with gospel music. I was partially correct. The show takes place at the Charles R. Drew Prep School for Boys, a private all black male institution. The story revolves around a young man named Pharus who, after waiting for years takes his rightful place as the leader of the legendary gospel choir. But of course, Pharus has his secrets and so does everyone else around him.

Fast forward to the present, September 2024. Shotgun Players in Berkeley, CA is producing Mr. McCraney's play. So naturally, I had to go see it, mainly because I teach a Queer Theatre class and this is one of the plays I ask student to read so we can have discussions about it. Having a live production "refresher" was not a bad idea.

CHOIR BOY is a gay theme play and Pharus is a young gay man who wants to succeed as a choir leader. But hardly anyone is ready for Pharus' life style and the school will make any effort to dismiss Pharus, while his classmates will either dislike him for being gay, behaving in very homophobic ways, or will tolerate him because well, perhaps it is the best Christian thing to do.

The production at Shotgun Players was entertaining. The group of actors portraying the prep students, as well as the two actors playing school figure authorities committed to the roles they played. The singing was glorious and the choreography was eye-catching. Unfortunately, at least for me, not everyone was on point. From the 8-actors ensemble, four of them stood out. Wesley Barker who played AJ James and Pharus' roommate was very charismatic and caring. Chachi Delgado as Junior Davis carried his role with lots of energy and his singing and dancing were high quality. Omar Stewart  showed a lot of vulnerability and insecurity as David Heard. As we see him loving and hating his situation, we come to like him, dislike him, but also understand him. Malcom B. Rodgers as the "white" professor was outstanding as someone who carry himself with both authority and concern for the students. 

The rest of the ensemble was a series of hit and misses. William Schmidt singing was potent but his portrayal of Pharus didn't carry enough emotional vulnerability to truly make me care of his situation. Miles Meckling, as the troubled bully, was extremely too angry and confrontational that his character almost became a stereotype. Brandon DiPaola as "Ensemble Member" and Fred Pitts as Headmaster are easily forgettable, despite the fact that, unlike Mr. DiPaola, Mr. Pitts has a major role in the story. 

For me, the singing and the choreography were the best part of the production. Every actor playing a student had a very strong voice. It is clear they worked hard for the production because their harmonies were on point and a welcoming sound to hear. And while the choreography was eye-catching and creative, it is clear that not everyone in the ensemble is a dancer. Yet, the actors committed to the execution of every single step, shape, and movement. 

When I first saw the show in London, and later in NYC, the productions were about 90 minutes long, Shotgun Players' production ran 1 hour and 50 minutes without intermission, most of the extra time is attributed to the scene changes, which unfortunately pull you away from submerging into the story to truly fall in love with the characters. 

Overall, though, the production is worth seeing, especially because of the singing and the choreography. Tarrel Alvin McCraney's script is strong, containing some very good one-liners that made the audience laugh out loud or shriek in disgust or shock, and all those reactions are expected when one watches a play written by Mr. McCraney. CHOIR BOY is not an essay play to produce. It requires an ensemble of young people who can act, sing, and move with authority and ease. Shotgun Players production's efforts to reach such goals are almost there. For this reason along, and for the fact that Darrell Alvin McCraney's script is so beautifully written, attending this production is worth our time.