A few words from Eric Lee Brotherson, Dance Captain, ensemble member, and “mule” in the current production of Man of La Mancha at Pioneer Theatre Company.

There is something so remarkable to me about just sitting on stage watching a story unfold.

Normally, you as an actor face the proscenium and see the audience recede into the dark, and you are dancing, and singing, and sweating, and rapidly changing costumes. But Man of La Mancha has been a bit different for me. There are times when I get to sit on stage and I am not sending my energy out into the house, I am sitting very still, watching the story a few feet in front of me. The chance to be a storyteller, in a show about a story changing the lives of hardened, sad, fearful people, is a privilege. And I didn’t always understand what a privilege it was to be able to be a storyteller.

I remember being five years old and gathering my parents in the living room to watch my sister and me perform on the fireplace mantle. Or backyard dance extravaganzas we would actually invite neighbors to watch. From an early age, I was a storyteller, but I didn’t realize how important it was to me until I was almost thirty. I had performed for years, but had always thought I was supposed to be a therapist. So I was in the middle of a Masters degree in Social Work at the University of Washington in Seattle. I was doing well, but felt sad often, and I wasn’t sure why. I suppose I had always had a bit of a tortured relationship with the arts and my life’s work, because didn’t lawyers and accountants and stock brokers get more respect, and money?!

One night I had a dream. It may sound silly, but I was back in “caveman” times. We had hunted and gathered for the day, and night had fallen. We were sitting in a cave, and there were people doing cave paintings. I was telling a story around the fire, and I remember very clearly in my dream the firelight reflected off the eyes of the people listening fiercely to my tale. Their eyes shone. Truly. And I woke up, and in one night all my self-doubt about the arts was gone. Next to having a roof over your head, and food in your stomach, the next most primal need for humans is to create, to tell stories. I realized that there were no accountants or lawyers or marketing specialists back in our first days. There were providers, and there were storytellers. And I realized what an ancient, sacred profession the art of storytelling was and is today. I went right out and quit my Master’s program, and have been performing and telling stories ever since.

And here I am on the Pioneer Theatre stage, and the first thing I do is walk out, and sit down by a fire, and begin to be part of telling a story. I can’t see the audience’s faces, but I can feel the energy, and I can see the fire in my fellow performers’ eyes, and I am proud to be a part of this world. It is really a charge the moment William Michals sets down his makeup case, and begins to transform into Don Quixote. It is a rush just raising my arms above my head and putting a donkey/mule puppet head on! Speaking of primal, I get to play an animal in this show…which for an actor is about the most primal elegant storytelling you can do. And this is my fifth animal I have played on stage! (Cat, cow, dog, alligator, and now mule.) It really strips down your storytelling skills to very elemental choices. There is magic in it, and I love to do it (though my neck sometimes doesn’t…). And who knew that all the years I worked on my Dad’s cattle ranch in the summer would pay off now? That is the thing about storytelling, you can research all you want about how to create the story, but there is something about just living a life with a wide variety of experiences that has helped me in whatever show I have done. All my education, my training, my family, my relationships, my travel, my heartbreaks, they have all informed the storyteller in me. Living a full life I hope has made my work more full, and more true. Thanks to Charles Morey, my family, my coworkers for making this show about storytelling resonate even more in me.

Now, go tell a story around the fire!

(posted by Heather)

One of the coolest things about my job is that I get to sit in on what’s called a “Designer Run” for each of the shows.

And in the Man of La Mancha Designer Run last week, I saw—even only in that relatively small (at least when you compare it with the Main Stage) space—a truly moving and beautiful production. In fact, for the first time I finally got why I’ve heard so many people, when asked what their favorite musical is, claim Man of La Mancha for that accolade.

The stage show has been around for almost fifty years (and the story on which it is based nearly four hundred). Since it debuted on Broadway in 1965, it has been produced in a multitude of venues: The first production I saw was in a makeshift theatrical space at my alma mater that employed the use of an overhanging balcony in the back of a music hall so that the stairway through which Cervantes enters his Inquisitional prison could descend. Years later, I saw a lovely production here in Salt Lake at SLCC’s The Grand Theatre starring the stunningly-voiced Ginger Bess as Aldonza. (Little side note: Ginger’s husband Daniel T. Simons plays guitar for the muleteers in our upcoming production.) And of course, many PTC patrons will tell you of the legendary Robert Peterson portrayal of the poet and madman—an experience I’m very sorry to say I missed out on, since I only moved to this state several years after the last incarnation of “Bob of La Mancha” as it’s affectionately referred to in PTC’s halls and in local theatre circles.

But, for the first time, even in an incompletely rehearsed run-through of this show, my eyes were finally opened to the magic this story holds.

Don Quixote is a man obsessed with potential. He doesn’t judge books by their covers, to say the least, and he in fact sees only the most romantic and lovely versions of all that he encounters.

Aldonza, even in her oppressed and impoverished state, clings desperately to the powerful idea of free will, and controls what she can in spite of the albatross of her meager circumstances and daily hardship.

Sancho Panza is as loyal a friend as there has ever been, and the kindly Innkeeper sees the goodness and the value of an individual that many see as only a nuisance and a troublemaker.

And, of course, the story of Don Quixote is one that has survived, been told and retold for centuries—even longer than much of Shakespeare. The fervent optimism of the man has transcended time periods, cultures, and languages. In fact, it has even contributed to the development of at least one language other than the one in which it was written—English adapted his name as a word for his character: quixotic, and the phrase “tilting at windmills” is used regularly even still for those who dare to Dream their Impossible Dreams. The traits embodied in the story are so universally human that it still has the power to (and did) bring several people to tears in a rehearsal room at PTC in the middle of the workday.

I can’t wait to see what it has the power to do on opening night.

(posted by Heather)

I was fifteen the first time I saw a real-live, honest-to-gosh stage show. That’s relatively old, I guess, especially for someone who would eventually go on to major in the subject, and then make that subject her (albeit nine-to-five, bow-to-the-man, and largely uncreative) livelihood. Oh, I’m sure I must have seen a show or two here or there before that—elementary school field trips, or class performances or what have you. But the moment I first remember walking into a black box theatre, slowing my steps as my heartbeat quickened and my breath caught in my chest, came when I was a high school sophomore. It was a college production of Midsummer, back in my hometown at Sweet Briar College’s Babcock Fine Arts Center (that’s right, there’s a Babcock Theatre at the University of Utah, too, in the very same building that PTC is housed – ironic? Or, magical?) I even remember the bouquet of fresh paint and lumber from the scenery on stage before me. I also, very clearly, remember that after seeing that entire hilarious, beautiful and magical production I thought, “I want this to be part of my life from now on.”

Last week, PTC hosted Riverton Music’s annual Piano Sale. That means that our lobby was filled with the sounds of tuning from morning till evening, and graced from time to time with the tentative testing (and, more often, fervent serenade) from musicians young and old who hope to soon have a lovely new piano to call their own. It also means a (very welcome) glut of patrons in the direct path from my office to the ladies room, so at one point last week I sneaked through the theatre’s house to avoid the bottleneck.

As soon as I opened the door and stepped onto that darkened mezzanine, I was taken back to that life-changing day from my youth. The sweet smell of freshly cut wood and open paint cans wafted up to me. I sat down, hidden by the ghost lights on the front row of the loge, and watched my work colleagues from obscurity for a few moments. And I relished the awe and power of the things that the artistic teams do here seven times a year. The monumental accomplishments of a staff small and mighty. Dedicated. Talented. And the blessing that is experiencing a story unfold in front of you on one culminating, electrifying evening that crosses the boundaries of all five senses: the sights of massive set pieces from periods and places years and miles from our own realm of experience, the sounds of bellowing actors and sweeping orchestras, the smells of carpentry and artistic hands, the cool touch of a fog generated from a backstage machine, or the warm touch of a loved one’s hand from the seat beside you. Of a unique and unexpected emotion tapping gently on the door of your heart for the first time—or for the first time in a long while.

That’s the beauty, the thrill, the singularly splendid experience that is live theatre. And I feel endlessly lucky that we have so much of it to share.

Do you remember your first live theatre experience? Tell us about it!

And, experience our next production with us, Man of La Mancha May 4 – May 19, 2012.

Long-time Pioneer Theatre Company artistic director, Charles Morey, premiered Laughing Stock in 2001. Although 2001 doesn’t seem that long ago to me, ten years certainly does… Wait. Let me start again.

Long-time Pioneer Theatre Company artistic director, Charles Morey, premiered Laughing Stock over ten years ago. Despite the extended shelf life, this timeless comedy easily prevails any day and age. After all, if you can’t laugh at yourself, who can you laugh at?

Laughing Stock is a laugh-out-loud play that chronicles a summer season of theatre.  Although the play isn’t true to life from any one particular event or any one character, it seems to be a culmination of Morey’s personal experiences.

“The characters are mostly composites, fragments of personalities fit together into one character. None of the events in the play ever really happened. Some elements of events are drawn from reality and exaggerated into a comedic shape.”

The title, Laughing Stock, plays on the natural meaning of the phrase and on the shoptalk theatre term summer stock. So what better question to ask the cast and crew but for them to tell us their best personal laughing stock moment?

Laughs with the cast and crew after the jump

Laughing Stock by Charles Morey is a comedy in two acts inspired by events PTC’s Artistic Director experienced during his tenure at the professional summer stock theatre, The Peterborough Players in Peterborough, New Hampshire.

Two current cast members, Joyce Cohen and Anderson Matthews, are feeling a little déjà vu these days. I sat down with them recently to chat about that, and here’s what they had to say:

Me: What are each of your previous experiences working on Laughing Stock?

Joyce: I played Sarah McKay when it premiered here at PTC in 2001.

Andy: I played Gordon in that same production, and then played Gordon again for Chuck at the Asolo Rep in 2005.

Me: What are some of the challenges of playing a different role than you’d played before in the same show?

Joyce: I think the first thing is acknowledging that you are an “old person now.”

Andy: Me too – well, I mean, I understand it with Joyce…

Joyce: What?!

Andy: …but I’m still wondering how he got there for me.

They both dissolve into heartfelt, friendly laughter.

More laughs with Joyce and Andy after the jump

A few words from PTC Artistic Director and Laughing Stock playwright, Charles Morey

“The world of the theatre is as closed a tribe and as removed from other civilian worlds as a gypsy encampment, and those who enter it are spoiled for anything else and are tainted with its insidious lure for the rest of their lives.

Moss Hart, Act One

I suppose the notion of writing a play set in a summer stock theatre had been drifting in and out of my consciousness for at least a decade before I actually set fingers to keyboard sometime in 1999. It surely swam into the forefront at the time I first directed Noises Off simply because there was a little too much in that play that was distinctly and uncomfortably familiar to someone who had, at that point, spent close to twenty summers doing summer stock.

As long-time PTC subscribers know, several years after my first outing with Noises Off I found myself in the business of adapting nineteenth century novels to the stage. The second of those was Bram Stoker’s Dracula, which PTC premiered in 1990. It was apparent from the first reading that the material was so melodramatically over-heated that it tottered dangerously on the precipice of self-parody and with just the slightest push the material could become very, very funny indeed whether I wanted it to be so or not. It was clear that anything less than a pretty polished production of the play would almost certainly lose its balance.

More from Charles Morey after the jump

Sitting in the house for the last few minutes of the show before the student talkback began, and hearing the wild whistles and catcalls as the cast of Emma took their curtain call, it occurred to me that these guys must feel like Regency rock stars.

We love and appreciate our student matinee program. Their enthusiasm as an audience is unmatched. Here are some highlights from last week’s student talkback as this week’s is currently taking place!):

In attendance: Jordan Coughtry (Frank Churchill), Ward Chapman (Ensemble), Elizabeth Summerhays (Jane Fairfax), Laura Innes Melton (Ensemble), Michael Sharon (Mr. Knightley), Nisi Sturgis (Emma Woodhouse), Kymberly Mellen (Mrs. Weston), Summer Spence (Ensemble) and Katie Fabel (Harriett Smith).

Moderator: Elizabeth Williamson, Emma dramaturg and PTC Associate Artistic Director. The dramaturg handles the literary and research side of the show. Elizabeth picked the adaptation that we used.

Student Question: Is Emma’s hair really blonde?

Answer: Emma’s hair is really blonde, like it is in the show, but she still wears a wig onstage. [It makes it a lot easier for our amazing Resident Hair & Makeup Designer, Amanda French, to style in the Regency period style, which is very specific and very different from how we wear our hair today, consistently for each performance.]

SQ: How long did it take to learn those British accents?

Nisi Sturgis: I’ve played around with it since I was a kid, and coming from Arkansas like I do there were a lot of dialects to overcome. But I had training in college and grad school, and there is a dialect coach on the show that has been with the cast since the beginning of rehearsal. That coach told us things like how each person/character in Austen’s world would still speak slightly differently from each other based on status. Also, there’s an International Phonetic Alphabet that helps you transpose different sounds from different places.

More student Q&A after the jump

There isn’t much that the award-winning HBO gangster series, Boardwalk Empire, and Jane Austen’s story of genteel nineteenth century English life in the countryside, Emma, have in common – except, that is, for Nisi Sturgis, who plays roles in both. Hey, versatility is what this business is all about.

Boardwalk Empire is described as the show that “chronicles the life and times of Nucky Thompson, the undisputed ruler of Atlantic City, who was equal parts politician and gangster.” It’s produced by Martin Scorsese and Mark Wahlberg, and has a starring line-up that includes Kelly Macdonald, Michael Shannon, Michael Pitt, Shea Whigham, Gretchen Mol and Steve Buscemi.

Sturgis’ theatre background was actually something that helped get her the role of June Thompson on the show, the wife the corrupt sheriff of Atlantic City. “Shea Whigham stays in character between takes on the set, so they were looking for someone to pair with him who had that level of focus.” Sturgis says that when she and Whigham met at a coffee shop after she was cast he was impressed by her theatre background and training, and that they’ve enjoyed working together.

On the show the couple have eight kids. “I met my eight kids for the first time this season,” says Sturgis. A fellow actor on the set that day told her after the introductions, “Very few people can wear the mask of authority with grace, but you did.” Sturgis commented, “My mother, who’s a schoolteacher of 42 years, would really appreciate that statement.”

Despite the fact that they’re both written in dialogue that’s performed by actors, theatre and film have a lot of differences – differences Sturgis says she’s learning firsthand, more and more. “My character’s not important enough to kill off so hopefully I’ll have a life on the show through the end of production.”

“In filming the show, people are recreating a moment so quickly,” she said. “The thing we have in theatre that film doesn’t is time. When they say action that’s what they mean, and a hundred people are standing around waiting for you to get it right. Just imagine if the whole team at PTC – marketing, box office, costumes, scene shop everyone – were waiting for a single moment from an actor.”

More with Nisi after the jump