Friday, June 21, 2013
Thursday, June 06, 2013
Monday, May 27, 2013
Wednesday, April 17, 2013
Friday, March 15, 2013
Monday, March 11, 2013
Outside
And now
Not tomorrow
Yesterday
Not tomorrow
It happens today
The damage today
They fall on today
They beat on the outside
And I’ll stand by you
Now not tomorrow
It’s happening now
Not tomorrow
It’s happening now
The crazed in the hot zone
The mental and divas hands
The feasting of life
To the music outside
To the music outside
It happens outside
The music is outside
It’s happening outside
The music is outside
It’s happening
Now, not tomorrow
Yesterday
Not tomorrow
The music is outside
It’s happening outside
The music is outside
The music is outside
Outside
Outside
Outside
Tuesday, March 05, 2013
Fantastic Voyage
Should turn to erosion and we never get old
Remember it's true, dignity is valuable
But our lives are valuable too
We're learning to live with somebody's depression
And I don't want to live with somebody's depression
We'll get by, I suppose
It's a very modern world, but nobody's perfect
It's a moving world, but that's no reason
Shoot some of those missiles
Think of us as fatherless scum
It won't be forgotten
'Cause we'll never say anything nice again, will we?
And the wrong words make you listen
In this criminal world
Remember it's true, loyalty is valuable
But our lives are valuable too
We're learning to live with somebody's depression
And I don't want to live with somebody's depression
We'll get by I suppose
But any sudden movement I've got to write it down
They wipe out an entire race and I've got to write it down
But I'm still getting educated but I've got to write it down
And it won't be forgotten
'Cause I'll never say anything nice again, how can I?
Wednesday, February 27, 2013
Where Are We Now?
You never knew that
That I could do that
Just walking the dead
Sitting in the Dschungel
On Nurnberger strasse
A man lost in time near KaDeWe
Just walking the dead
Where are we now?
Where are we now?
The moment you know
You know, you know
Twenty thousand people
Cross Bose Brucke
Fingers are crossed
Just in case
Walking the dead
Where are we now?
Where are we now?
The moment you know
You know, you know
As long as there's sun
As long as there's sun
As long as there's rain
As long as there's rain
As long as there's fire
As long as there's fire
As long as there's me
As long as there's you
Thursday, February 21, 2013
Are You a Hero?
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I can remember
Standing
By the wall
And the guns
Shot above our heads
And we kissed
As though nothing could fall
And the shame
Was on the other side
Oh we can beat them
For ever and ever
Then we can be Heroes
Just for one day
Thursday, February 14, 2013
We're Being Accurate
No, we are not done going through all the applications and audition videos yet. We are being very accurate. You will have to wait a few more days.
Thursday, February 07, 2013
Saturday, February 02, 2013
Tuesday, January 29, 2013
Join the Conversation
Yes, you too can join STAC and get in on THE BIG DISCUSSION.
Here is the link to get the info and application!
Monday, January 21, 2013
Join STAC and FLY!
Yes, you too can join STAC. And now it is easier than ever because the application and everything is finally finished!
Here is the link to get the info and application!
Thursday, January 03, 2013
Monday, December 10, 2012
Wednesday, December 05, 2012
St. Joe
What a handsome devil. And he had a good looking brain, too.
Uncle Bela says...
"Szánd rá az időt "
Remember this - it is great advice for you at your age.
Monday, December 03, 2012
Friction for December
"I do not want to know another thing about what a nice guy or gal someone on the stage is: This is entirely irrelevant to me. Some sort of desperation has crept into our theatre--all of our arts, really, but we're discussing theatre--where we feel a defensive wall is erected around the meretriciousness of our work by highlighting how hard someone has worked; how many hours they've put in at the soup kitchen; how many hours they spent researching the aphasic mind in order to replicate the actions of one; how many ribbons sweep across their breast in support of causes; how much they love their lives and how lucky they feel to be on Broadway!
There is very little art, but there is a great deal of boosterism. Fill the seats; buy a T-shirt; post something on the Internet; send out an e-mail blast.
I'm in my eighties, and I think I should have left this earth never knowing what an e-mail blast was.
I saw a play recently that was festooned with understudies: Not the actual understudies, but the hired, primary actors, all of whom performed (if that is the word) precisely like a competent, frightened understudy who got a call at dinner and who raced down to take over a role. No depth; no sense of preparation. These were actors who had learned their lines and who had showed up. And that is all.
I spoke to the director afterwards. By all accounts a nice and talented and smart guy. I asked him why a particular part in this play--a Group Theatre classic--had been given to this certain actor. He's a great guy, was the response. Prince of a fellow. Well, perhaps, but send him home to be a prince to his wife and children; he is a shattering mediocrity. But nice and easy counts far too much these days. Another director told me--proudly--that he had just completed his third play in which there wasn't one difficult player; not one distraction; not one argument. Can I add that these were among the most boring plays of our time? They were like finely buffed episodes of Philco Playhouse: tidy, neat, pre-digested, and forgotten almost immediately, save for the rage I felt at another missed opportunity.
All great work comes to us through various forms of friction. I like this friction; I thrive on it. I keep hearing that Kim Stanley was difficult. Yes, she was: in the best sense of the word. She questioned everything; nailed everything down; got answers; motivated everyone to work at her demonically high standard. Everyone improved, as did the project on which she was working, whether it was a scene in class, a TV project, a film, or a play. Is that difficult? Bring more of them on.
Is Dustin Hoffman difficult? You bet. He wants it right; he wants everything right, and that means you and that means me. I find it exhilarating, but in our current culture, they would prefer someone who arrived on time, shared pictures of the family, hugged everyone and reminded them of how blessed he is to be in a play, and who does whatever the director asks of him.
Is Warren Beatty difficult? Only if you're mediocre or lazy. If you work hard and well, he's got your back, your front, and your future well in hand. He gets things right--for everybody.
No friction. No interest. No play. No film. It's very depressing.
I don't want to know about your process. I want to see the results of it. I'll gladly help an actor replicate and preserve and share whatever results from all the work that has been done on a part, but I don't want to hear about it. I've worked with actors who read a play a couple of times and fully understood their characters and gave hundreds of brilliant performances. I don't know how they reached that high level of acting, and I don't care. My job is to provide a safe environment, to hold you to the high standards that have been set by the playwright, the other actors, and by me. I hold it all together, but I don't need to know that your second-act scene is so true because you drew upon the death of your beloved aunt or the time your father burned your favorite doll.
Now the process is public, and actors want acclimation for the work they've put into the work that doesn't work. Is this insane? Read the newspapers, and there is an actor talking about his intentions with a part. I've pulled strands of O'Neill into this character, and I'm looking at certain paintings and photographs to gain a certain texture. And then you go to the theatre and see the performance of a frightened understudy. But a great gal or guy. Sweet. Loves the theatre.
Every year or so, I tell myself I'm going to stop going to see plays. It's just too depressing. But I remember how much I love what theatre can be and what theatre was, and I go back, an old addict, an old whore who wants to get the spark going again.
I don't think we can get the spark going again because the people working in the theatre today never saw the spark, so they can't get it going or keep it going if it walked right up to them and asked for a seat.
It's a job, a career step, a rehabilitation for a failed TV star or aging film star. I got a call from one of these actresses, seeking coaching. I need my cred back, she said.
This is not what the theatre is supposed to be, but it is what the theatre now is.
I don't want to just shit on the theatre: It's bad everywhere, because it's all business, real-estate space with actors. It's no longer something vital. I used to think that the theatre was like a good newspaper: It provided a service; people wanted and needed it; revenue was provided by advertisers who bought space if the paper delivered, but profit was not the motive--the motive was the dissemination of truth and news and humor. Who goes to the theatre at all now? I think those in the theatre go because it's an occupational requirement: They want to keep an eye on what the other guys are going, and they want to rubberneck backstage with those who might use them in the future. But who are the audiences? They want relief not enlightenment. They want ease. This is fatal.
I talk to Sidney Lumet. I talk to Mike Nichols. I ask them if I'm the crazy old man who hates everything. You might be, they say, but you're not wrong. They have the same feelings, but they work them out or work around them in different ways.
The primary challenges of the theatre should not always be getting people to give a shit about it. The primary challenge should be to produce plays that reach out to people and change their lives. Theatre is not an event, like a hayride or a junior prom--it's an artistic, emotional experience in which people who have privately worked out their stories share them with a group of people who are, without their knowledge, their friends, their peers, their equals, their partners on a remarkable ride." ~~ director ARTHUR PENN
"I do not want to know another thing about what a nice guy or gal someone on the stage is: This is entirely irrelevant to me. Some sort of desperation has crept into our theatre--all of our arts, really, but we're discussing theatre--where we feel a defensive wall is erected around the meretriciousness of our work by highlighting how hard someone has worked; how many hours they've put in at the soup kitchen; how many hours they spent researching the aphasic mind in order to replicate the actions of one; how many ribbons sweep across their breast in support of causes; how much they love their lives and how lucky they feel to be on Broadway!
There is very little art, but there is a great deal of boosterism. Fill the seats; buy a T-shirt; post something on the Internet; send out an e-mail blast.
I'm in my eighties, and I think I should have left this earth never knowing what an e-mail blast was.
I saw a play recently that was festooned with understudies: Not the actual understudies, but the hired, primary actors, all of whom performed (if that is the word) precisely like a competent, frightened understudy who got a call at dinner and who raced down to take over a role. No depth; no sense of preparation. These were actors who had learned their lines and who had showed up. And that is all.
I spoke to the director afterwards. By all accounts a nice and talented and smart guy. I asked him why a particular part in this play--a Group Theatre classic--had been given to this certain actor. He's a great guy, was the response. Prince of a fellow. Well, perhaps, but send him home to be a prince to his wife and children; he is a shattering mediocrity. But nice and easy counts far too much these days. Another director told me--proudly--that he had just completed his third play in which there wasn't one difficult player; not one distraction; not one argument. Can I add that these were among the most boring plays of our time? They were like finely buffed episodes of Philco Playhouse: tidy, neat, pre-digested, and forgotten almost immediately, save for the rage I felt at another missed opportunity.
All great work comes to us through various forms of friction. I like this friction; I thrive on it. I keep hearing that Kim Stanley was difficult. Yes, she was: in the best sense of the word. She questioned everything; nailed everything down; got answers; motivated everyone to work at her demonically high standard. Everyone improved, as did the project on which she was working, whether it was a scene in class, a TV project, a film, or a play. Is that difficult? Bring more of them on.
Is Dustin Hoffman difficult? You bet. He wants it right; he wants everything right, and that means you and that means me. I find it exhilarating, but in our current culture, they would prefer someone who arrived on time, shared pictures of the family, hugged everyone and reminded them of how blessed he is to be in a play, and who does whatever the director asks of him.
Is Warren Beatty difficult? Only if you're mediocre or lazy. If you work hard and well, he's got your back, your front, and your future well in hand. He gets things right--for everybody.
No friction. No interest. No play. No film. It's very depressing.
I don't want to know about your process. I want to see the results of it. I'll gladly help an actor replicate and preserve and share whatever results from all the work that has been done on a part, but I don't want to hear about it. I've worked with actors who read a play a couple of times and fully understood their characters and gave hundreds of brilliant performances. I don't know how they reached that high level of acting, and I don't care. My job is to provide a safe environment, to hold you to the high standards that have been set by the playwright, the other actors, and by me. I hold it all together, but I don't need to know that your second-act scene is so true because you drew upon the death of your beloved aunt or the time your father burned your favorite doll.
Now the process is public, and actors want acclimation for the work they've put into the work that doesn't work. Is this insane? Read the newspapers, and there is an actor talking about his intentions with a part. I've pulled strands of O'Neill into this character, and I'm looking at certain paintings and photographs to gain a certain texture. And then you go to the theatre and see the performance of a frightened understudy. But a great gal or guy. Sweet. Loves the theatre.
Every year or so, I tell myself I'm going to stop going to see plays. It's just too depressing. But I remember how much I love what theatre can be and what theatre was, and I go back, an old addict, an old whore who wants to get the spark going again.
I don't think we can get the spark going again because the people working in the theatre today never saw the spark, so they can't get it going or keep it going if it walked right up to them and asked for a seat.
It's a job, a career step, a rehabilitation for a failed TV star or aging film star. I got a call from one of these actresses, seeking coaching. I need my cred back, she said.
This is not what the theatre is supposed to be, but it is what the theatre now is.
I don't want to just shit on the theatre: It's bad everywhere, because it's all business, real-estate space with actors. It's no longer something vital. I used to think that the theatre was like a good newspaper: It provided a service; people wanted and needed it; revenue was provided by advertisers who bought space if the paper delivered, but profit was not the motive--the motive was the dissemination of truth and news and humor. Who goes to the theatre at all now? I think those in the theatre go because it's an occupational requirement: They want to keep an eye on what the other guys are going, and they want to rubberneck backstage with those who might use them in the future. But who are the audiences? They want relief not enlightenment. They want ease. This is fatal.
I talk to Sidney Lumet. I talk to Mike Nichols. I ask them if I'm the crazy old man who hates everything. You might be, they say, but you're not wrong. They have the same feelings, but they work them out or work around them in different ways.
The primary challenges of the theatre should not always be getting people to give a shit about it. The primary challenge should be to produce plays that reach out to people and change their lives. Theatre is not an event, like a hayride or a junior prom--it's an artistic, emotional experience in which people who have privately worked out their stories share them with a group of people who are, without their knowledge, their friends, their peers, their equals, their partners on a remarkable ride." ~~ director ARTHUR PENN
Tuesday, November 27, 2012
Love & Forever Changes
I first heard of Love when I was in college my freshman year. I found a book at a used bookstore on campus called The Rock Encyclopedia or some such, and I read it constantly for months, learning about bands, albums - rock history in general. Under L was an entry for a band called Love, and it described their third album, Forever Changes, as a minor masterpiece. I special ordered it.
They were a strange band. In 1966 they were mixed race, which was unheard of, and the lead singer, Arthur Lee, rather than playing R&B, was writing folk music and sang like (gasp!) a white guy. They released maybe 3 or 4 albums, most of the band was ravaged by drug abuse and dropped out of sight. Brian McLean (the guy holding the guitar in the picture), who wrote their biggest hit "Alone Again Or," eventually kicked his heroin habit after discovering religion. He probably would have gone on to be a major talent had he not screwed himself up so badly. Arthur Lee succumbed to peer pressure and abandoned his folk roots and adopted a style that was somewhat more in keeping with what musicians of color were expected to do but it didn't work out well. He did some time in jail and spent the remainder of his life playing the music of Love, and especially the songs on Forever Changes.
I've always thought this album was one of the greatest rock albums ever made, and in recent years it has gotten its due: Rolling Stone Magazine ranks it #40 in its list of the 500 all time greatest recordings. It sits with Sgt Peppers Lonely Hearts Club Band, Pet Sounds and Axis: Bold as Love as being a high point of the psychedelic rock movement of the 1960's. There's not a bad note on it, as it skitters from ballads to rockers, from fuzzy solos to flamenco guitar parts, to strings and what sounds like a Mariachi horn section. The recording is clean and not burdened by acoustic artifacts of the time, like too much reverb and echo. Arthur Lee has a weeping, plaintive voice that at times snarls. He even turns in one performance that sounds like proto-rap.
It's a fantastic record.
Monday, November 26, 2012
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