Saying Goodbye to Thebes

My first main stage production with theatre KAPOW was in September of 2013 when we mounted our first run of The Burial at Thebes. It is a beautiful contemporary adaptation of the Antigone play by the famous Irish poet, Seamus Heaney. It is an uncommon privilege in the theater world to come back to a script and perform the same roles over several years, however, this was the experience for myself and a handful of other actors. For the past 5 years we have returned to Thebes each September to perform for the freshman class at St. Anselm College to coincide with the these new students’ reading of Antigone. We have also performed on a few other occasions for high school students.

This September will be our last run of the show and our 7th time re-mounting the show. Many actors have performed in various roles over the years and just the other day in rehearsal we were attempting to count up the total number of people who have contributed to the production. For the past 5 years I have marked the coming of fall with not only my return to teaching and my children’s return to school but also with the mid-August email from Matt Cahoon, usually entitled “Return to Thebes” or most recently, “The Very Last Thebes (We think)”. Facebook and Instagram have faithfully popped up pictures of the original show photos and many other rehearsal pictures from over the years.

As I reflect on this, it occurs to me how much I will miss receiving Matt’s email and how sad it will be when we actually do put this production to rest. Like many greek tragedies, Antigone deals with the flaws and strengths that make us human and is full of timeless themes such as love, pride, power, morality, betrayal, loyalty and fear. Each year as we’ve return to the play, we’ve found new relevance in its content. For me, the poetry and themes never get stale. We have found connections to 9/11, the Boston Marathon Bombings and other news stories and political climates throughout the 5 years.

I have played Ismeme, sister of Antigone, each year as well as a chorus member. Each year I’ve found a new lens to see Ismene through and different ways to analyze her relationship with Antigone and her decision not to follow her sister's plan to go against the “laws of the land” and bury her brother. In her I have found a fierce love of her family, but a true fear that perhaps we’d call her tragic flaw. Fear is certainly an emotion we can all connect with and one that so often decides our decisions in life. Was Ismene wrong to deny her sister her support and to not, as she states, “defy the laws of the land”? This question of who was right, Creon or Antigone, has been an ongoing conversation for the company and one that is always discussed in our talk backs after each show. There have been many different opinions and insights over the years, but as Tom Hanks as Forest Gump says so eloquently when describing what life might mean, “maybe it’s a little of both.”

Ismene is spared by King Creon and we never really find out what happens to her. Fear may have been her flaw, but it wasn’t a fatal one for her, unlike most of the other characters in the play, so maybe she’s wiser than we thought. Last year one of the college students asked me what I thought happened to Ismeme at the end of the play.  Where did she go? I have thought about this a lot and my favorite imagining is that she fled far away to the seaside and lived out her days watching the tides in solitude. Perhaps never forgiving herself for living and her sister dying, but somehow finding peace in her escape from the tragedy at Thebes.

~Rachael Longo

(photos by Matthew Lomanno)

Names Read Aloud

"Tigers die and leave their skins; people die and leave their names."

-Japanese Proverb

The list of names on the 9/11 Memorial in New York City

I’m not giving anything away when I tell you that names play a major role in Anne Washburn’s Mr. Burns, a post electric play.  

In act one we meet a band of travelers sitting around a campfire.  We come to learn that these people are living in a world after a cataclysmic event that has destroyed the electrical grid. Before too long a stranger enters and, after a few tense moments trying to ascertain whether he is friend or foe, the group pulls out their notebooks and reads lists of names of people that have gone missing.  It is clear early on that some of the names only remain on the lists as a way to remember them rather than out of any hope that they will be found.  

In act three, 75 years have passed and the notebooks have been replaced by a large tome from which the names are read aloud.  For a contemporary audience, this moment is clearly reminiscent of the annual tradition of reading the names of people who died on 9/11.  Washburn includes names that clearly indicate that their owners were from a variety of backgrounds.  The apocalypse didn’t discriminate.  

Street artist writes out the list of the victims
of the Sandy Hook shooting

Unfortunately these lists of names have become commonplace in our culture.  On December 16th, 2012, Broadway composer Jason Robert Brown wrote a song in response to the Sandy Hook school shooting which had taken place just two days earlier.  He entitled the song “Twenty-Six Names” and posted it along with the names and ages of everyone who died in that shooting on his website.  At the top of the page he wrote, “I will remember their names and I will sing them to a safer place.”  It’s a beautiful and haunting piece of music and I try to remember to listen to it every December 14th.  I’m ashamed to say sometimes it’s hard to remember to remember.  

Like many of us, last week I was glued to my TV watching the news about the horrific events at Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School in Parkland, Florida.  On Thursday afternoon, just about 24 hours after the shooting, Broward County Sherriff Scott Israel started his press conference by reading the names of the victims of that senseless and still inexplicable act.  He was emphatic that their names be the focus and that their families be respected during this period of immense grief.  

The conversations that I had with my co-workers, my students, and my daughter following the Parkland shooting give me hope that this would not be an event that would fade so easily from our collective memory.  This time, I swore to myself, would be different.  This would be a call to action.  While there is certainly more that can be done, my first instinct was to seek out way to make a financial contribution to help make a difference.  That’s when I came across Sandy Hook Promise and I encourage you all to check them out.  Based in Newtown, Connecticut, Sandy Hook Promise’s intent is to honor all victims of gun violence by turning their tragedy into a moment of transformation by providing programs and practices that protect children from gun violence.  Sandy Hook Promise is absolutely taking the lead in training students and adults to know the signs of gun violence.

I was walking across the Pinkerton Academy campus this afternoon plotting out this blog post and how I was going to discuss the listing of names in Mr. Burns in context of current events when my phone buzzed signaling an incoming email.  The subject of the email was “Honoring Dylan” and it was written by a woman named Nicole Hockley whose six year-old son died in the massacre at Sandy Hook.  Even though I had made my donation last week, I knew that it was an automatically generated email sent from Sandy Hook Promise.  It’s a heartbreaking but inspiring email filled with pictures of Dylan who was just the absolute cutest kid you have ever seen.  Then I came to this passage which I share here in its entirety:

Dylan Hockley

After my precious Dylan was killed in the senseless violence at Sandy Hook Elementary, my other son Jake asked my husband and me not to say Dylan's name aloud. The reminder of how quickly and violently his best friend had been snatched away was too painful and raw.

Now, I sometimes hear Jake talking to Dylan, just chatting to his brother quietly while he plays. I stop, steel myself, allow myself to feel the anger that Jake can no longer play with his brother, and then I remember that this is Jake's way of moving forward, of keeping Dylan's memory alive.

I hate that this woman had to write this, but I love this sentiment.  Even after we are gone, our names will keep us alive in the memories of those we’ve left behind.  

These blog posts almost always end with some kind of pitch to come see our next show.  While I certainly want you all to come take part in the craziness that is Mr. Burns, a post electric play, what I really hope is that, in light of current events, we will all take a moment to remember the names of those lost.  Let’s write them down and read them aloud and, more importantly, let’s work everyday to make the world a better place.  

~Matt Cahoon

The Courtship of Season Planning

Okay, so I’ll admit up front that in the last nine years I’ve done a lot more season planning than dating, but it strikes me they are pretty much the same thing. Hear me out. Imagine, that a play is the boy/girl of your dreams. You’re totally into this play, you do all your research so that you know as much as you possibly can about him/her. Are you compatible? Is he/she up to your standards? Is he/she worth the time and energy necessary to make the relationship a successful one? Can you afford him/her? (Okay, so maybe the metaphor doesn’t work so well there, but you get the point and besides, I warned you that it had been awhile since I’ve done this). So you’ve found him/her, the one you really want to be with. You know that a relationship with him/her will be so good for the both of you. You decide that now is the time to make your move so you work up the nerve and pick up the phone or send an email (or submit answers to a bunch of questions on a website form). You say, “Listen, I know that we’d be good for each other, I really like you and I’d love to spend a rehearsal process getting to know you better.” Admittedly, my suave talk probably isn’t what it used to be, see above. If you are lucky, the response is, “Absolutely, I’d love to go out with you, I just need to check my calendar and see when I am available.” In the best case scenario, you hear back almost instantly. You are both available to meet at a mutually agreed upon date (or weekend) and all is good. Sometimes though, sometimes it doesn’t go so well. You work up the nerve to ask and the response is “Gee, I’d really like to, but I’m already going on a date that weekend with someone else in your area,” or “Sorry, but I only date professionals,” or “I haven’t started dating Americans yet.” Sure, the initial letdown can be harsh. After all, you had done your research and out of all the boys/girls you really thought you had found the one for you. Sometimes you know that if you are patient they will come around eventually. And, sometimes you let out a huge sigh of relief because you were scared shitless at the prospect of dating this particular person anyway. Often though, and this is key, the process of getting rejected makes you look a little harder and dig a little deeper and, I think more often than not, you find someone else so much better. Okay, I think I’ve played out this metaphor.

In just a few days, theatre KAPOW will announce the shows that will make up the schedule for season nine (yikes, nine, wow). I’ll be honest, we’ve courted a lot of plays over the past few months. I’ll also tell you that some of the plays we wanted weren’t available for one reason or another. Some of them remain on a short list of what I refer to as “tries.” We can’t do the show now, but we will try again in the future. This list gets longer and longer each year, but it means that there are some really great shows coming in future seasons. But, and as I said before in that horrible metaphor that started this perhaps disastrous blog post (yay for you if you’ve stuck through it thus far), I think the plays we’ve chosen are better than the ones that we originally pursued. We have a really strong season with wonderful stories and even more wonderful characters. Oh, and trust me, there is one major surprise. And now, dear reader, is my opportunity to play coy with you. I turn my best sultry look towards you and say, “if you want to learn more about what we’re doing next season, let’s hang out on Saturday night (or perhaps at the Sunday matinee) at the performance of Raining Aluminum.” Yeah, I admit, my game has some holes in it, but you get the point. We are thrilled with season nine and we know that you will love what we have in store.

~ Matt Cahoon

P.S. Anyone looking for relationship advice can hit me up on facebook.

The Evolution of a Season - Our Relationship with Technology

It’s no secret, by now, that I’m really into season planning. At this time of year, several of us read dozens of plays and have long conversations about themes we are interested in exploring moving forward. While I’m certain some future post will be all about planning season 9, that’s not what I’m thinking about today. Rather than spending this time planning for future seasons, I find myself reflecting on season 8. No, it’s not done, there is still a lot of work to do, but as I sat to work on Grounded this morning, I found myself thinking of the show in context of the season as a whole.

If you’ve been following tKAPOW this season, you know that our theme is BREATHE. I think it’s a great theme and really touches upon both our interest in the importance of those things that make us human and the practical use of breath as a part of our training and storytelling processes. But, as I reflect on this season now that Grounded is nearly up on it’s feet, I find a different theme emerging. What I think we’ve really been exploring this season is humankind’s relationship with technology. It wasn’t planned that way and since it wasn’t planned somehow it feels more sincere. Here’s a reminder of what season 8 has looked like so far.  

In December, we produced Duncan Macmillan’s Lungs. The play centers around a young couple making deciding whether or not to have a baby. The relationship between M and W in that play is in the foreground, but one of the clear factors contributing to the couple’s (especially W’s) reluctance to have a baby is how much of an impact the child will have on the environment. Ultimately, I think everyone would agree that having the child was for the best and that M and W were able to live much happier lives as a result. At the end of the play, however, the world is literally covered in ash.

This year’s February comedy was Marie Jones’ Stones in His Pockets. Rich and Peter had a great time playing a whole bunch of different characters including members of both the local, rural Irish village a Hollywood film crew. As is fairly typical of a tKAPOW comedy, the show was funny on the surface but had some very serious undertones. At its roots, Stones explores the impact of outside modern influence on a traditional community.

With Grounded (opening this weekend at the Derry Opera House), the relationship between humans and technology is forefront. As the technology of warfare has shifted away from fighter jets and towards unmanned aerial vehicles (drones), the way we conduct war has changed considerably. So much of this show is about the guilt associated with inflicting harm without ever putting yourself in danger. The show also asks serious questions about how technology can desensitize even those in the most critical of fields. When our world is reduced to what can be seen on a small screen, what are the implications of our actions?

Looking back I’m really proud of the season aesthetically and think that a lot of the design elements also speak to our relationship with technology. Lungs was just two actors (wearing their own clothes), an 8’x10’ area rug, and a few Ikea light fixtures (oh and a grand total of 6 light cues). The world reduced to the minimal. The set for Stones was a physical representation of the influence of man (the rectangular platform) on nature (the circular grassy hill). David Brown provided beautiful traditional fiddle music which was contrasted by Tayva’s visible movie lighting equipment. Grounded, as you will see in just a few days, is a mess of technology. It’s as technologically complex a show we have ever done with 5 flat screens, multiple cameras, two laptops, and dozens of video clips. All of that technology is juxtaposed, however, by a single actress, in a single costume, standing in an 8’x8’ room with one very plain looking chair.

It’s fascinating to me that without really meaning to, we’ve been exploring this idea of our relationship with technology all season long. I think this speaks to the fact that amazing things can (and will) happen if you make a priority of producing well written shows and purposefully stringing together pieces that complement each other.

As we plan season nine (it’s still amazing to me that it’s already been eight years), we know that we have a responsibility to ourselves as artists, to the playwrights whose work we produce, and most of all to our audience, to continue to make deliberate choices when constructing the season. I’m excited to explore new themes in season nine and to see what conversations result.

~Matt Cahoon