Award-winning Los Angeles Playwright and 16-time recipient of Artist-in-Residence grants from the City of Los Angeles Department of Cultural Affairs. October 3, 2018 Silver Lake, CA - Henry Ong, a fixture of the Los Angeles theatre community for more than 35 years, died Saturday, September 29th after a long battle with cancer. Ong was the quintessential Los Angeles playwright: a first-generation Asian-American, he was interested in the exploring the immigrant experience, and conducted writing/oral history workshops in many LA communities as diverse as the city itself.
Ong grew up in Singapore and later attended graduate school in the U.S., graduating with a master's degree in journalism. Post-graduation, he moved to Los Angeles, where he began to pursue his career as a playwright. He was a member of Interact Theatre Company and Company of Angels. In 2014 he was awarded the Lee Melville Award from Playwrights Arena for outstanding contribution to theatre in Los Angeles.
An internationally-produced playwright, Ong's works span an eclectic mix, from plays inspired by true events to biographical drama and adaptations of classic novels. Credits include: Madame Mao's Memories, Sweet Karma, Fabric, The Legend of the White Snake, and People Like Me, which won him a Drama-Logue Award for Excellence in Writing in 1998. A number of his plays have been produced nationally, including New York and San Diego (at the Old Globe Theatre); as well as internationally in London, Edinburgh and Singapore. Other works include: The Masseur, Ascent, and theatrical adaptations of the Anthony Trollope novels Rachel Ray, and Nina Balatka, all in various stages of development.
Ong was a 16-time recipient of Artist-in-Residence grants from the City of Los Angeles Department of Cultural Affairs. He collaborated with Marlton School, Los Angeles' only day school for deaf and hard-of-hearing students, on staging a series of Asian folktales for youth. In addition, he was one of the founding members of the non-profit Artists Against Oppression (AAO), whose primary mission is to create and support artistic endeavors that elevate the lives of oppressed or disenfranchised communities.
In 2017, Ong fulfilled a life-long dream to have his six-hour adaptation of the Chinese classic, Dream of the Red Chamber staged, co-directing the play at the Edward Vincent Jr Park in Inglewood. In June his play, The Blade of Jealousy, an adaptation of the Spanish Renaissance Playwright Tirso de Molina's La Celosa De Sí Misma, had its world premiere at the Whitefire Theatre in Sherman Oaks.
As a champion of LA theatre, Ong was an avid theatre-goer, attending 150 performances annually. He served for many seasons as an active voter for The Ovation Awards, the Southern California award for excellence in theatre.
Dubbed “the shyest man in theatre” by theatre website Stage Raw, Henry famously avoided the spotlight and cameras unless he was on the other side of the lens. Everyone in the theatre was “a famous person” in his world. No audience member or performer escaped his attention. Ong felt, he said in a 2016 Stage Raw interview, that “everybody deserves to be seen, and wants to be seen.”
Henry is survived by his husband Matthew Black, mother Geok Lian Yan, and sisters Noi Giddings and Stella Ong.
Almost a decade ago, I met Tom Jacobson during my transition from undergrad studies at Princeton back to Los Angeles theatre life. A few alumni contacts recommended I involve myself with Ensemble Studio Theatre/LA because it was one of Los Angeles' premier theatre for new play development. Tom was active in the company's artistic directorship and took me under his wing.
What I remember most about my mentorship with Tom Jacobson was his staunch belief in outlining before writing. Because of his adherence to this rigorous prep work, Tom's plays remain immensely well-researched, planned and cared for, structured, and richly detailed.
Tom Jacobson's newest creative endeavor is The Ballad of the Bimini Baths, a trilogy on the now-forgotten but once (in)famous Bimini Baths, a hot springs resort that only the City of Angels could produce. Tom's trilogy boasts an unprecedented exploration of almost 50 years of Los Angeles' history through the lens of the Baths. Each of the works in The Ballad of the Bimini Baths will be produced by a different LA intimate theatre: Son of Semele's production of Plunge will run until June 17; Rogue Machine's presentation of Mexican Day runs through July 1; and Playwright's Arena's premiere of Tar opens June 9 and runs through July 2.
Recently, as Tom prepared to take LA theatregoers to the Baths, I checked in with him to find out about this exciting project.
Donathan Walters and Darrell Larson
Roger Q. Mason (RQM): You are writing a trilogy on a forgotten place in LA. I'm already in love with the prospect of these works. What drew you to the subject matter?
Tom Jacobson (TJ): Bimini Baths was located a block from my house. It's in an unnamed neighborhood at the edge of Koreatown, Historic Filipino Town, Silver Lake, and Wilshire Center/Westlake. A lost stream called Sacatella Creek used to run through it to a swamp called Bimini Slough. There were two movie studios and a restaurant on the top floor of the American Storage Building called Thirteenth Heaven where the waiters wore angel wings (until they were shut down for liquor violations during Prohibition). Lots of drama happened in these few blocks, including fires (Palomar Ballroom in 1939, civil unrest in 1992), floods (Sacatella Creek overflowed as far southwest as Mariposa and 6th) and several drownings in Bimini Baths. A lot of the conflict in the area grew out of racial bias, and these stories of the past are still relevant today. Plus, I'd like the neighborhood to get a name: Bimini Basin.
RQM: Which piece came first? Why did you start there?
TJ: I workshopped one play with Son of Semele Ensemble for several years, trying to create a site-specific work that encompassed 100 years of stories. That proved to be too much for one play, so I broke it into three plays, starting with Plunge, set in 1918. I outlined all three plays to tell one novelistic story, and then started at the beginning with the original sin that overshadowed the next 30 years.
RQM: Now, three of LA's finest companies are working with you to present the trilogy. Wow! What a feat! How did this production arrangement come about?
TJ: I had relationships with all three companies (Captain of the Bible Quiz Team in 2016 at Rogue Machine, The Orange Grove in 2004 at Playwrights Arena, plus the workshops with SOSE), and John Flynn, Jon Lawrence Rivera and Matt McCray all liked the idea of collaborating on a theatrical event related to the history of our city. They've done a terrific job of linking actors (some characters appear in more than one play), sets, costumes, sound, lighting over the 30 year span of the story. It was wonderful to see the directors exchanging ideas about how to link their productions.
Jully Lee and Jonathan Medina
RQM: The trilogy traverses a critical time period in LA's history: 1918 to 1948. The two Great Wars, the rise of Hollywood, the Roaring 20s, the Great Migration, the television age, our first freeways - just to name a few milestones. In your research, what major cultural shifts caught your eye during this time frame?
TJ: Plunge begins with the founding of Otis Art Institute, a proud civic moment as Los Angeles was just starting to envision itself as a city focused on the future. As Los Angeles boomed during the early Hollywood years and as a center of production during World War Two, civil rights became more of a focus nationally and in our city. Race figures prominently in all three plays, andMexican Day chronicles an early (and mostly unknown) civic rights victory.
RQM: Ultimately, one of the things I adore about this project is that it is an investigation of Los Angeles history written by a Los Angeles playwright which will premiere before a Los Angeles audience. You have always believed in the power and dignity of developing dramatic work in this town. Why should writers continue to make theatre in LA?
TJ: There are so many unexplored stories in our vast city. Any writer can find Los
Angeles tales that touch their hearts, probe their questions and bring to life issues about which they are passionate. We're so much more interesting than the cliches of beaches, Hollywood and plastic surgery. Together we can rediscover our landscape and remind ourselves of what we have in common as well as what tears us apart (which is drama). We can shape our public image in the stories we tell. Los Angeles is really coming into its own, a true city of the future, emblematic of our country's future, and that should be celebrated on stage.
Every month or so, playwright Boni B. Alvarez and I have a kiki (Queer dictionary moment: kiki = chit-chat, coffee, shoot the…you understand). We meet up to talk shop, dream, scheme, and generally relish each other's company. Fresh off the opening of Boni's new play Nicky, you know I was eager for this month's talk. And I thought I'd invite your guys, our lovely Better Lemons readers, to the party.
Roger Q. Mason
Roger Q. Mason (RQM): I'll never forget how we met. It was 2009.
Boni B. Alvarez (BBA): Yes, it was my play Ruby, Tragically Rotund. My first production – with Playwrights' Arena at Los Angeles Theatre Center, directed by Jon Lawrence Rivera.
RQM: I remember seeing that play and being wowed by the theatricality of the piece, the originality of the writing and the singularity of perspective. Until then, I had not yet seen a Filipino-American play on stage.
Boni B. Alvarez
BBA: The funny thing is I don't think of it as a Filipino-American play. I mean, obviously, it is. I am Filipino-American and there are a lot of Filipino and Filipino-American characters in it, but the inspiration actually came from reading a Maria Irene Fornes play. I think it was Mud and then I just envisioned a fat girl in a pig pen and that brewed in my head for about a year. I had always wanted to write a fat play, or a play of size. And what came out was Ruby, Tragically Rotund.
RQM: Did you start that play while you were at the USC's MFA?
BBA: Yes, it was my thesis play and Jon Rivera saw the reading and committed to it pretty quickly. We developed it and shopped it around. I graduated in 2007 and the production was in 2009.
RQM: That's sort of a fairy tale ending to the MFA experience. So many people bemoan the year after the MFA. You are broken of old habits by the MFA and then you are re-broken by the rejections that come thereafter, especially in that first year out because you're new, people don't know your work yet, and you're trying to establish those relationships. Some people thrive after that first year or so and others don't - they move on from the business. How was it for you coming out of the MFA and having a production right away?
BBA: You have something to look forward to. You know you're getting produced, but it also is a double-edged sword. It was two and a half years after graduation. The play wasn't reviewed as well as I thought it would be, yet audiences really loved it. It was a pretty sold-out run with a couple of extensions. It's kind of disappointing when you don't get that second production of a play when you hoped it would.
RQM: How's your new show Nicky going?
BBA: Really great!
RQM: What's it about?
BBA: It's an adaptation of Anton Chekhov's Ivanov.
RQM: Uh oh! Folks better watch out. Boni is taking on the canon.
BBA: It's what I deem as the problem play. It was Chekhov's first play which he labeled a comedy. Contemporary audiences would be like, “Where's the laughter supposed to be?”
RQM: It's Dantean comedy: a journey from a low play to a high place.
BBA: Right! And I keep to the Russian origin. The lead is Russian-American. But the play is definitely inclusive of places and cultures of the world that we live in now. That's usually my goal as a writer. If the play isn't all Filipino, it usually will have a little bit of everyone in it.
RQM: You really inspire me. My mom is Filipino, so I identify as Filipino American. For many years, I didn't know what to say about that aspect of my identity in my work. I just kept coming to your plays and seeing your vigilance in exploring it on the page. You look at the Filipino experience in the US and globally. The East always has one eye on the West.
BBA: The American dream is always at the forefront of my plays. In some works, it's more obvious than others. It's a testament to the career that I've chosen. It's a dream - an elusive dream: to be a playwright who works enough to sustain an existence on playwriting alone.
RQM: So whenever we hang out, we often talk about The Business. No, I'm not asking for your trade secrets in public, but really though, how do you keep working?
BBA: I get really excited by a story. But, once that inspiration hits, it's not like you can just immediately sit down and write that story. You have to let that inspiration live through you and bubble up - what the story is and who the characters will be. Usually it'll be 6 months to a year in between that first strike of inspiration and the first word I commit to the page. At that point, it's boiling to come out of me. I get inspired by the people I work with: directors, actors, companies. I know that times are tough. With the whole 99-seat debacle that's happening in Los Angeles, it's probably wiser for a writer to sit at home and write two-handers and one man shows. But all of a sudden, Nicky has 14 characters. My next play has 9. I've just written a three-act 11-character World War II epic play set in the Philippines. I'm not shying away from the bigness, how grand or how large things need to be. I meet more and more actors. I want to work with people and have things for them to be in. I think that is a big inspiration.
RQM: Process - let's discuss. For me, my writerly coming of age journey has entailed announcing to myself and others that I'm not a “traditional” playwright. A lot of my writing happens through improvisation and experimentation in the room. The work is interdisciplinary too - there's music, there's movement, it's like opera but at a slimmer ticket price. A friend has called what I do librettism. I'm a librettist for performance experiences. Knowing that about myself was a huge relief. What about you? What are your writing conditions like?
BBA: So after an idea boils up, I start writing. I've been fortunate enough to be in a lot of writers groups with various theatres in Los Angeles so I have an avenue in which to write it in, a forum that has a structure to it with deadlines. Usually, I've been working on three or four plays at the same time, juggling between the projects. Now, I have to be more focused. There's usually a project I'm writing from scratch and then there's something I'm revising either for a production or a reading.
RQM: How do you compartmentalize the plays so they don't sound the same?
BBA: Sometimes they do sound the same. But, you know what, audiences aren't watching them at the same time. It's okay. I mean everyone has a trademark. I say that in jest, but also not.
RQM: What is Boni Alvarez's trademark?
BBA: Oh lord, I leave that up to the audiences, to the future. Maybe my trademark is that I've been emerging. It's been 10 years since I got out of the USC Dramatic Writing program and I feel like I am finally hitting a stride and that now most of my efforts are going towards storytelling and playwriting of some sort.
RQM: You are a career playwright. We can say that. We are going to say that.
BBA: Yes, okay. It's important to own it. I am a career playwright.
RQM: So 10 years…Is that about right? That seems to be the timeframe. I remember reading in the New York Times years ago when August: Osage County first came out that Tracy Letts was considered then an “emerging playwright.” I found that quite laughable at the time, considering the man had been working for years. But I guess emerging takes on many definitions and phases - even within the context of one person's career. You can be emerging in some new aspect or developing some new skill set to add to your tool box, and in that sense, you're emerging.
BBA: I'm emerging on the national level, to bigger theatres - getting on their radar through literary departments or other artists. It's an uphill climb being a playwright in LA. We live in the shadow of “the industry” - television and film. And it's hard to get the proper street cred as a playwright coming out of LA.
RQM: But yet you've stayed. So what keeps you here?
BBA: I lived in New York. I'm from the San Francisco Bay Area. My agents told me to move to LA. I never wanted to. There's a NorCal/SoCal thing and an East Coast/West Coast thing and I even had stuff in storage in New York while I was in school at USC.
BBA: I had every intention of moving back. But I found a tremendous community here. There's a humungous theatre scene here - so many talented practitioners of theatre.
RQM: How do plays that have developed here make it to the national scene?
BBA: You have to submit to everything. It detracts from your writing time, but it is writing, it's part of the process. They all ask for some kind of statement of purpose. Those statements help as a check-in for what you are doing, what you are working on. When you have to do a statement about your play, you have to think about why you are writing it. You have to be selective, too. I applied to this one thing year after year. I was a finalist one year. I didn't get it, but there was a private email from someone on the selection committee that said, “I'm a big fan of your work. I know it can seem like you are sending your script out into this empty black hole. You probably don't know if anyone is even reading it. It is being read, it is being appreciated. But it's not always recognized by the entire committee.”
RQM: Oh, the politics of readership.
BBA: There's politics in every committee. And so many points of view. If you are a director, you will judge a work from a director's point of view, what plays you'd like to take a stab at or if you're a producer, there are circumstances you have to take into account in selecting plays. You can't escape the baggage of who you are or your position. But you should also read it outside of that perspective as well.
RQM: And we can't be phased by any of that. We have to write our truth.
BBA: Right! You will write what you will write. And, hopefully, your champion reader will find it. I've been very lucky to have met a lot of generous people.
RQM: This is the people business.
BBA: And it's not just about the work. Are people going to want to work with you? Kindness is so undervalued and underrated. Just being nice - not pure as snow - but someone that people want to have in their presence and work with. For Nicky, we had over 200 submissions. We saw almost 100 people and I'm always amazed - wow they want to be part of my play. They want to be part of something I created.
RQM: And let's be real, some of them are coming specifically because it's YOU, Boni.
BBA: Yes, I realize that and I'm humbled. Some of my plays are mostly Filipino and I have fans who are not necessarily of the ethnicities of the characters I write for.
RQM: You know, according to Anthony Bourdain, we are in vogue. If restaurant trends are harbingers of larger cultural movements, Filipino-Americas are the new thing.
BBA: And we need to get ready to step into our light - the Filipinos of the world. Capitalize on the moment.
RQM: It is a really exciting moment to be a Filipino-American who tells stories.
BBA: I've got a question for you: as an Asian American playwright, do you feel a responsibility to include Filipinos or Filipino culture or African American culture in your work?
RQM: That comes back to my house and my home life. In many ways, my mother came to America to re-imagine herself outside of her Filipino life. Specifically, she came here to be a Western woman. That always bothered me growing up. She did not teach us any Tagalog growing up, amongst other things. My mother had a very difficult home life in the Philippines and she conflated her specific domestic situation with the Philippines as a whole. I had to come into my Filipino self on my own. I'd look on the internet and bombard her with purposefully mispronounced versions of useful Tagalog phrases like “I'm hungry” or “Good morning.” I made her correct me. Then, during the holidays, I went to my cousins' houses and it was like a different country. They served food from lace-doilied buffet tables; after the meal, the adults would sit around the television and give the kids space, and then the karaoke machine would come out. My aunt's house was decorated with a mixture of Chinese statuary and Filipino Catholic icons. I imagined that, were I born in a slightly different household, my world would be completed different. The Filipino world fascinated me, and I wanted to absorb everything I could from it.
BBA: Now this is fascinating.
RQM: I remember going to the Philippines in my 20s and being awed by the resilience, the vibrance, and the pliability of the culture. Here was a place that defined cultural fusion before the tastemakers started commenting on it. During that same trip, I went to Antipologos and looked down on Manila Bay. There was no middle class. It was ritzy Makati City on one side and the shanties on the other. That duality read like tortured poetry to me.
BBA: Well, the middle class of the Filipinos is not in the Philippines. They're all working abroad.
RQM: And also, the telecom industry is creating an emerging middle class there in the Philippines as well. That's another fascinating subculture. You discussed this in your play Dallas Non-Stop: a workforce that is trained to perform a version of self on the phone that is familiar and comfortable to the West. It's a kind of passing. Cultural passing. I am thousands of miles away but I know just what you need out of your hotel or your flight from Omaha to Detroit.
BBA: It's a type of global passing. You have Filipinos infiltrating the States, the UK, Japan, Israel, Australia. What's that show? There was a Filipino caregiver who won X Factor Israel.
RQM: Get out!
BBA: No, I'm not kidding you. Our people are all over.
RQM: Yes, we are! But, we digress. Back to your question, I've never really been able to speak to a monolithic identity, whether it's Filipino or Black American. On both sides of the family, my world is quite strange and unique so my work centers on speaking to that uniqueness as best and clearly as I can.
RQM: So, what have you got brewing next?
BBA: I have a reading of a new play, my WWII epic play Refuge for a Purple Heart as part of Echo Theater's Labfest in July. I have a played called Fixed, inspired by Calderon de la Barca's work.
RQM: Is this the lady boy play?
RQM: I am so excited right now!
BBA: It's about a family of lady boys who run a massage parlor in historic Filipinotown. This is going up at the Echo Theater in September.
RQM: This is literally putting a smile on my face right now. I am over here completely beaming. There is a play. About a house of lady boys. In September. In LA. Yasss!
BBA: The House of Malacanang.
RQM: Everybody needs to try and get into that house. Will there be tea?
BBA: Tea is always served, it might just be too strong for you.
RQM: Oh honey, yes! I just have a feeling. I can smell a smash hit from 4 months away.
BBA: You're a mess!
RQM: I always try to be.
BBA: You succeed, trust. So what's next with you?
RQM: My solo show The Duat is going up in July at Son of Semele Theatre. It's inspired by the shootings at UCLA which took place in the 1960s between differing black student groups on campus. This piece imagines a COINTELPRO informant's spiritual reckoning in the Egyptian afterlife. I feel really good about this piece - a great team and the script rewrites are coming together. Then I'm off to New York. My show The White Dress, the gender queer coming of age play, will be performed at the Araca Project in November. And then I'm filming a movie based upon my short play Softer, the gay slavery piece.
BBA: Look at you - so busy!
RQM: I'm doing what I Iove.
BBA: What is the picture of happiness in terms of your career?
RQM: What is it for you? I'll answer, but you go first.
BBA: Enough success to keep me writing plays. I'm at a point where I feel I need more productions. I mean, what playwright doesn't? But you can't just sit at home and write plays. You learn so much - the experience of being in rehearsal. Revising for production, really focused on the arrival of an audience. Audiences, they're a key element of the work.
RQM: The happiness for me comes in stages and waves. For the longest time, it was knowing what I was. And now that I know I write performance work with a foundation in playwriting, that happiness is fulfilled: I know who I am and what to do. But, as you know, happiness is addictive. So now I've got to get to the next happiness. Well, the next happiness is having a forum to do that work that's supported - my own theatre company, commissions, residencies. That's part of the happiness. The other aspect of the happiness is one that's always been there for me. I remember my first workshop production (and I'm saying that so you readers know the play is still available for world premiere rights). The play was Onion Creek, my Reconstruction-era Adam and Eve tale. At auditions, I remember seeing people in the hall trying their hearts out to come in the room and bring the strongest rendition of those sides. I saw firsthand that I was creating something larger than myself, something that people want to do.
BBA: It's a completely and utterly humbling experience.
RQM: Yes, and that's the happiness that sustains us.
Brad Schreiber's non-fiction book investigating the Patty Hearst case, REVOLUTION'S END, is a matter of the right writer coming together with the right subject matter. Many journalists have been enticed onto the dance floor with rich girl Patty in her guerilla garb and Kalashnikov rifle - most recently Jeffrey Toobin in American Heiress - but no one else has been able to break it all down and connect the dots persuasively before this. Schreiber gave himself up to the twists and turns of the story, following the winding path with more determination than any writer before him. As he related in a recent stop on his book tour, he finally ran into a brick wall and was afraid all his work might have been in vain; then he stumbled upon the man who possessed the Federal government's dossier on Patty Hearst - and was willing to show it to him. The result is a quintessentially '70s story, West Coast style, that takes us into the realm of government mind control, drug-dealing and contract murders, all in the name of discrediting and undercutting the grassroots leftist movements that were flourishing in California. Schreiber's book was just awarded the 2017 Silver Medal in True Crime from the Independent Book Publishers, and it is well deserved. The Twisted Hipster has some experience in this arena, and I am simply in awe of the way that Schreiber tracks down his elusive leads and gets it all on the record. This is your government, folks. This is how it works. You need to know this. (Skyhorse Publishing, 2016)
CHECKING INTO "THE HOTEL PLAY" AT USC'S RADISSON
Angel Star Felix and Keyla Monterrosa Mejia and audience in "The Hotel Play"
Two things right up front: I am not a fan of site-specific theater. And if you can somehow wrangle a ticket to the final few performances of Playwrights Arena'sThe Hotel Play, then by all means go for it. You'll have an interesting experience - it just may not be the one that Artistic Director Jon Lawrence Rivera, who conceived this play, or the 7 playwrights who wrote it, had in mind.
The idea behind site-specific theater is, to a certain extent, a literalizing of the phrase "if these walls could talk." I have been to numerous crumbling churches and synagogues and nursing homes and hospitals for the criminally insane, not to mention museums and childcare centers - all locations for site-specific plays that attempt to evoke the spirits of the place, to conjure these spirits and capture their conflicts, their tales of human yearning and suffering. But theater, by its nature, is artificial. It presents human behavior in a designed construct intended to effect the audience in a specific way, to yield certain results. But placing this artificial construct in a real setting only tends to make it seem more artificial, not more real.
Without a doubt the best site-specific theater I've ever seen were Richard Foreman's early plays in his loft in downtown New York City. These events always featured Foreman himself at the control panel running the show and starring his girlfriend Kate Mannheim (usually in some form of undress) and had titles like Rhoda in Potatoland. The evenings were erotic, funny, weird, unpredictable and deeply personal. They seemed to present a map of Foreman's imagination, of the fantasies he had in his loft. It could be argued that this theater piece would also be effective in a black box theater space with a regular stage manager running the lights and sound, and I'd have to agree. But there was something about being in Foreman's loft and having him at the controls that made this experience different, and one that I've never forgotten. These plays had no real socio-political significance, nor did they aspire to. But they seemed truthful to the theater maker's obsessions, including the darker side of his nature, and they drew you in, sometimes unwillingly. The walls definitely seemed to be talking, and to be doing so in an uncensored way.
Moises Castro as the son and Mariana Marroquin as his transgender mother
The First Act of The Hotel Play takes place in six rooms of the USC Radisson, and the Second Act concludes on the patio by the outdoor pool. The conceit of the play is that the Class of 1992 from a South Central High School is having a 25th Reunion, stirring up all the old ghosts from the Rodney King riots. Seven women playwrights have written the scenes in the rooms and on the patio - Paula Cizmar, Velina Hasu Houston, Jennifer Maisel, Nahal Navidar, Julie Taiwo Oni, Janine Salinas Schoenberg and Laurie Woolery. Sixteen actors work hard to convince us that we are observing them in their most intimate moments as they prepare to meet downstairs for the reunion. There are unresolved issues from those tragic times which will be resolved tonight - or so we are promised. And to a great extent they are. Whether we actually care that much is another issue, one that I'll let each audience member decide for himself or herself.
Tamika Katon-Donegal and Ryan Moriarty and onlookers out on the patio
I had a directing teacher a long time ago named George Ferencz who always told us that our task as theater makers was to "beat the street." By which he meant that we had to make something that was more interesting than what people could get for free outside the theater. But when your theater is in fact outside on a pool patio, then that task becomes a lot more difficult. Police cars raced by with sirens blaring, fire engines raced by too, and at one point there was a horrifying shriek of brakes on the unseen street, which was thankfully not followed by a crash of metal. But any hope these actors had of engaging our emotions was pretty much undercut by "the street," until I felt my attention wandering to the interesting people in the audience, a truly diverse group of Angelenos whose chatter between scenes was often more interesting than the melodramatic dialogue that took place in the rooms. There was a captivating scene between a drug-dealing son and his male-to-female transgender mother, which did get richer later on when the son stood up for his mother to the woman who had had a crush on her in high school. But too often the scenes simply didn't beat the street, while striving too hard to make statements of socio-political consequence.
Still, I had a great time at The Hotel Play because it felt like an event, and a specifically Los Angeles event at that. Los Angeles is a city of transients - not a new idea, even kind of a tired one, but it struck me in a new and powerful way on this particular evening. Maybe it had to do with the sadness of those hotel rooms, unchanged by its many occupants, where we audience members were voyeuristic ghosts, crammed into the spaces between these bickering characters, skittering out of the way as they lurched in this direction or that one, while we froze awkwardly next to women examining their bodies in the mirror with displeasure and applying way too much makeup.
Or maybe it had to do with taking the train down there and back, rather than driving my car, as I usually do. The train was packed - something I don't experience often here - and the riders included the Phantom of the Opera, who hung near the back. It brought back memories of New York City, of course, where I took the subway to school every day for years. But the trains here are different, narrower, more intimate, and they don't go underground. That may seem like a small thing, but it isn't. When the subway goes underground, there's nothing to look at but each other, except that no one in a New York subway likes being looked at. Also there's no smartphone reception down there. Staying above ground the whole way, I could really take in the Los Angeles sprawl, and what an enormous number of people there are here, trying to make a life, to keep things together.
Antonio on the Metro
A few stops into the ride back, a good-looking young man burst into the train car, saying to everyone and no one, "Wouldn't you believe me if I told you that I was serious about getting my shit together this time? Wouldn't you give me a second chance and go out with me?" His gaze settled on a young woman who was sitting beside her boyfriend or husband. "Wouldn't you give me another chance if I told you that this time it was going to be different?"
The young woman shrugged and said, "Maybe don't keep reminding her how you messed up before. That doesn't really help your case."
"But it's all gonna be different now, that's my point," he said. "If I can just get my shit together."
"If?" the woman said to him, shaking her head.
Soon she and her male companion and most of the other folks in our car got off the train. The young man sat down opposite me. I noticed that his shirt was inside out. Somehow it made me doubt that he was ever going to get his shit together. But hey, who was I to judge?
"Hey, I'm Antonio," he told me.
"Twisted Hipster," I responded.
"Huh?" he asked. Then he smiled as if just getting the joke. "That's a good name for you," he said.
I smiled back. Really, who was I to judge about anything? Maybe the play hadn't been great, but the evening had been full of surprises, and wasn't that the point of going out for the night?
Director Jon Lawrence Rivera founded Playwrights' Arena in 1992 at the time of the LA riots. Wanting to produce plays by LA-based playwrights and to create opportunities for actors of color, Rivera has been changing and challenging the Los Angeles theatrical landscape for 25 years.
To celebrate 25 years of producing new work, Rivera wanted to do something big, something that also addressed the era that the company was created in. Thus sprung an idea for The Hotel Play. Set at a 25 year high school reunion, audience members are greeted at a registration table at the pool area of the Radisson Hotel across from USC. The first act consists of six scenes which will each be played consecutively in the adjacent hotel rooms facing the pool. For this first half, the audience will rotate from room to room to get each bit of the story. The second act, everyone will congregate at the pool patio.
Having just had a production meeting at the hotel to see the rooms and discuss logistics, he shows me one of the rooms before we sit down by the pool to discuss the play.
The initial idea came from a Danish film called The Celebration he saw 15-20 years ago. “I remember watching this movie,” says Rivera, “in the first half you see vignettes of different rooms, they're all getting ready for a celebration. There's a lot of discussion about having anxiety about the celebration and seeing certain people. So there's all this intrigue that's happening. And then in the second part they come down to the ballroom - it's the 60th birthday of the mother. Then you get all these big reveals of secrets people have been hiding for years.”
He continues, “as I was watching this movie I thought - this would be really interesting if it was happening live. In my head, it was something Playwrights' Arena would never be able to do because where do you get the money [for something of that scale]?”
Cary Thompson and Stevie Johnson
About two or three years ago the idea reemerged. Knowing that the 25th anniversary was fast approaching Rivera wanted to celebrate by doing something he'd never done before. For their 20th anniversary they did Flash Theatre LA, with 20 short site specific pieces throughout Los Angeles. This time, he wanted to create a full length site specific play.
“I started revisiting the idea of doing a show in a hotel. Then I thought who's going to write it? Is it one person, three people? Ultimately it was a time when we were discussing women playwrights in American theatre and how they're underproduced. This was an opportunity for me to do a play and to exclusively ask women to write it.”
After asking female playwrights he had worked with (and suggestions from them for other playwrights) he finally settled on having six playwrights write each scene, with each taking place a separate room for Act One (Velina Hasu Houston, Jennifer Maisel, Nahal Navidar, Julie Oni, Janine Salinas Schoenberg and Laurie Woolery), and one playwright (Paula Cizmar) to write Act Two, which is where all the characters congregate by the pool.
“When I finally decided on the seven playwrights two years ago - I told them about the movie [Celebration]. When we started, we all sat around a table and I put out six squares and we just started talking about what's in each room. What types of characters are there? So that was the beginning of the conversation. From there they were each assigned to a room” with Cizmar writing the second half.
“About six months later they got their first drafts in and we read them. From there we started to fine tune - oh that character in your play can interact with this character because they know each other. So it's been a two year process of that.”
Director Jon Lawrence Rivera working with the company
He made sure to keep them all focused on what they are trying to address. He elaborates, “Playwrights' Arena came out of the 1992 LA riots and the racial conflicts of that time. 25 years later, where are we? Are we still the same, have we moved forward?”
The tone of the conversation shifted after the election. “When in November when we had a different,” he hesitates, “President... the conversation has shifted again about racial relationships. We were at a different path writing this play so after the election we had to address that.”
Was it more hopeful before the election? “Yes! It was a much more hopeful thing. Now, it's not so much. And 25 years later how do these people who have experienced racial tension and unrest here in Los Angeles - how do they then interact with each other?”
They've created a fictional high school calling it South Central High School. “We've made it near Crenshaw and Jefferson, around that area,” says Rivera. “We tried to make it be a place where the unrest was really bad. In our play, the high school had to shut down [during the riots] so they never had a formal graduation.” Which leaves a lot of things unresolved, disconnected and unanswered.
Stevie Johnson and Melissa Greenspan
“It has really been a journey up to this point with re-writes. And we're still re-writing.” They just locked in the script this past Sunday. Explaining the process he adds, “Paula Cizmar, who is the main architect of the second act - she basically got all the scenes for the first act and wrote what she thought would happen with them when they all come together, with a consultation from the other playwrights. She did an amazing job to get all the pieces into a solid shape.” Of course, there's the back and forth with the other playwrights with things like, “I don't think my character would say that.”
The conceit of the play is that it's happening in real time and so some things will be adapted per show in order for everything to happen in real time for the audience. For instance, if it's Saturday or Monday night, they'll make reference to that.
Rivera has been rehearsing the show at LATC (downtown) and has shown the actors pictures of the rooms to give them a better sense of their playing spaces. Although there's a guide for each room, the audience is free to follow the characters around the room and sit or stand anywhere they please. To help with this, Rivera has had other actors not in the scene being rehearsed sit or stand in the space. If an actor needs to be in a certain area, then they just have to gently move the audience member.
“Unfortunately we only have two previews,” admits Rivera. “So those are very important for us to get a sense of how people are interacting with each other.”
Because there are knocks, phone calls and characters going from one room to another, the timing has to be precise. “The actors are now getting into the rhythm of things because they need to be in time for when those things happen. If it's delayed, they have to add whatever they need. Or if it's early they have to make an adjustment because the knock or phone call will happen at the exact same time every night. If there's a key line, they better say it before they open the door.”
Director Jon Lawrence Rivera working with the company
Christina Bryan, the stage manager, will be the one knocking on doors and coordinating phone calls. So she is the keeper of the time. They've gone through the script and have carefully timed these moments so she will be there with a timer making sure everything's running smoothly.
“In the rehearsal room we all see each other,” in other words they aren't practicing in separate rooms but in one big space. They've been finessing the timing in rehearsals because for the show it will be the same time, every time.
It takes a lot of fundraising to put on a project of this scope: 15 actors, seven playwrights, four associate directors, stage management, and designers - not to mention the fact that they are renting six rooms at the Radisson. Rivera chuckles, “I'm so stubborn - once I have an idea, I'm relentless. I started knocking on people's doors. I talked to Diane [Rodriguez] over at CTG and told her about the project. I told her I wanted to be able to support the playwrights. They didn't even blink, they gave me what I asked.” He jokes, “I should have asked for more!” That money was essentially a commission fee for the playwrights. Then he developed a partnership with USC's Visions and Voices and they gave them money which went towards rehearsals, fees and some of the hotel expenses. The Puffin Foundation also funded some of the workshop process. And the rest of the money is from their end of the year fundraiser. Rivera adds, “So all of that got us to this point, to make this happen.”
Cary Thompson, Stevie Johnson and Durant Fowler
What's next for Playwrights' Arena?
“That question always lingers, what is the next step? Having a space and being able to accommodate larger audiences is a desire for most companies. I feel conflicted about that. Because new work is such a hard sell. We're always going to be doing new works - and with that sometimes the work is by unknown playwrights. I don't think audiences in LA are trained to go to new work. That's a problem.”
Perhaps the future is in building more partnerships. “I would love a real relationship with an organisation where we can have housing,” for Playwrights' Arena to be a resident company. He continues, “for me, I think it's all about partnerships. I find that we are able to do a lot more stuff when there is a partner. Native Voices is talking to us about a future collaboration. We already have a relationship with Skylight Theatre. Maybe that's where we need to go - go build more permanent relationships.”
For now, Rivera is “very excited with this project. It's epic!” He adds, “I feel that we're trying to create something that I've never done myself. With Flash Theatre, those were five minute pieces. With this, it's huge! Even just sitting here, I'm wondering how I'm going to pull in the focus of the audience when they're all over the place. We'll see. Should be fun!”
The Hotel Play runs April 1 through 16, on Saturdays at 8 p.m., Sundays at 3 and 7 p.m. and Mondays at 8 p.m. There are two preview performances on March 31 at 8 p.m. and April 1 at 3 p.m.
There's still time to experience The Jerry Maguire Video Store - this pop up by Everything Is Terrible has acquired 14000 VHS tapes of the Tom Cruise film and has recreated a video store. They'll eventually be building a giant pyramid. On till Jan 29.
Scherzo Theater Company is remounting their delightful 8:03over in Hollywood to raise funds for the American Cancer Society.
Bloodlettingby Boni Alvarez is closing this weekend. Don't miss this tale about Filipina witches! Closing Sunday at Atwater Theatre.
Playing this weekend is SEVEN written by seven female playwrights - Part theatre, part documentary, SEVEN is an affirmation of the boundless power of hope and determination. Playing at LA Theatre Works.
Cornerstone Theatre Company is currently running fellowshipthe eighth play in their Hunger Cycle, which is an immersive experience that puts you in the role of volunteer. Runs until Feb 12.
Microtheater LA is an immersive social art experience. Five different theater companies present 5 plays, 15 minutes each, 5 times a night, inside working art studios. Each performance holds only a small group of audience members to allow for a unique intimate theater experience. Jan 28t at 7pm.
What MUST SEE events are you going to this week? Let us know in the comments!