Faux-vations

I go to a lot of local theatre productions. I wouldn't have it any other way. I love to see what's going on and to support my friends and neighbours in their work. It works in reverse, after all- they are always supportive of my endeavours, too.

On the topic of standing ovations, my understanding has always been this: when you like a performance, you applaud. When a performance is so good, transcendent even, that it "sweeps you off your feet," you may choose to participate in a standing ovation. You may find yourself indifferent, in which case you will more likely than not offer polite applause. If you really hated it, you might boo, but chances are, you will have walked out before the final curtain.

Lately, I've been baffled by the amount of standing ovations I have found myself participating in, and not for the reasons you might think.

You see, somehow the meanings have shifted. It seems that more frequently than ever, standing ovations are becoming the norm. To not ovate is to send a message of contempt or apathy, it seems. Because I go to a lot of local shows and because I know several people involved with most of the local productions, I find myself "faux-vating" more often than I'd like. Am I swept off my feet? No. Did I like the show? There's always something to admire. But I feel like if I don't stand, like everyone else is, then people will think I didn't like it. It's like, I worry that the girl seated behind me will think that didn't like her uncle's acting job or something. I may not have minded said uncle's acting job, I may even have liked it, but I stand because I don't want to be thought unsupportive. I guess narcissism is at work here to a degree - why should I assume that anyone in a given theatre cares what I think?

It's happening in the professional/semi-professional scene, too. Last weekend, I entered Bigfork's production of Happy Days with glee, eagerly anticipating a true, no-strings theatrical experience. Within seconds of the opening curtain a bunch of idiot-sticks sitting next to me were pointing their friends out on stage (the idiot-stick reference also extends to their ill-mannered use of cell phones throughout the play). The show was fun, but I'd have to say also mediocre (mostly due to a poorly cast Fonzie and an unfocused script), and yeah, there was a standing ovation, and yeah, I stood because I didn't want to stand out as not standing. I just want to go to a play where I can engage with the actors on my own terms.

There is, of course, another response: silent rapture. That happens to me rarely, but it does happen. Sometimes my responses to a performance are too complex to share with a big group right away, and I may have really liked it, but I'm mulling it over. And please, dear Lord, can we do away with the thing where the actors wait for the audience in the lobby (in costume!) and shake our hands? It's awkward. It's too soon. Anything I say at that moment is going to be contrived and dumb.

So, people, here's what we do. The next time you go to a play, if it's good, applaud. If it's awe-inspiring (AWE-INSPIRING! not simply good), stand (if you like). That's it. Even if other people rise to their feet, don't do it unless it was truly outstanding. I'll do it too, and then we won't be alone, and the girl seated behind us doesn't have to think that we didn't like her uncle's acting job.

Process

I have a way of doing things. When I write plays, what tends to happen is that I start by writing 60 pages. I try to limit the amount of characters somewhat, I have an idea of where it begins and where it ends, but beyond that I don't edit, I try as much as possible to let things go where they may and not question.

I let that sit for awhile, and then I pick it up again, recoil in horror at what's there, and then sift through to see what I can work with. 90 or so pages later, I do it again, this time more fussy about detail and structure. After about the third draft, I feel confident enough to approach a group of people who will sit in a room with me and read the play aloud. That usually tells me what's working and what isn't. More drafts, a public reading, more drafts yet and maybe send it away to a contest.

That's all I got so far. A week or so ago, I finished the 60 pager for Tooth Sized Hole. I think there might be some decent material in there, after all. I'm in the process of preparing for another rewrite of The Mimic's Riddle. It's hard because I know what needs to be done, I'm just not sure how t go about it. I want to have this next draft done by August 13, to send to the Yale Drama Series Competition. I let you know how it goes.