What the hell is going on?

This was the over-riding thought I had when I finished reading Exit the King. Ionesco's writing, I knew, like Beckett, like Sartre, can be esoteric and difficult to decipher. "Avant-Garde." "Absurd." "Didactic." In other words: inaccessible. I would be lying if I said I did not agree with some of these labels, especially during my reading of the play. For every insightful notion, there was a confusing one. At one moment I would be inspired by the eloquence of his language, at another irritated by his apparent pretentiousness. This is most certainly a play meant to be seen, not read, I thought to myself. It needs to be on its feet! We need our read through!

What the hell is going on??

Boy was I wrong. Upon completing our cast read through, I not only was left feeling similar to how I felt after reading the play, but if anything, I had more questions! I had suspected Ionesco would be daunting, and yet here I was feeling like years of performing theatre had left me utterly and singularly unprepared to turn these words into something resembling a coherent performance. Luckily, it appeared to me that I was not on an island in my thinking. Here were artists I respect and admire, and we all seemed equally humbled by how truly massive this text is.

If you had asked me what I thought our rehearsals held in store, I likely would have responded: Frustration. Confusion. Doubt. Or perhaps some combination of the three.

Fast forward four weeks.

What do I find dominate my memories of rehearsal thus far?

Tears of laughter. Barely concealed grins. Countless (failed) attempts to remain in character. These have been found in abundance through our rehearsal process. I believe this is due to a critical discovery made early in the process.

We discovered, that buried underneath a masterfully written political commentary, Ionesco has written a very funny play. This is our password. Our Rosetta stone. Because at the end of the day, Ionesco's wonderfully relevant text is useless if the audience does not connect with it. But because he was really, really smart; he wrote the key into the play.

Find the silly. Find it, and embrace it.

Laughter has the wonderful power to bring people from all walks of life together in a shared experience. This is intensely needed, in a time where people live in digital echoing chambers and spend their time dehumanizing "the other team." That is to say, anyone with different opinions.

One does not grow by hearing their own preconceived notions repeated back to them covered in sugar. One grows by honestly listening to someone who thinks differently. Who believes differently. One grows when one sincerely tries to step into their shoes. One grows when one realizes that "the other team" are human beings. Human beings that breathe oxygen, human beings that cry when they get hurt, human beings that just want to be happy.

Human beings that laugh.

That is what this play needs to do. It needs to invite the audience in. Reach out a hand, a genuine offer of inclusion. The production should invest and respect the audience as fellow human beings capable of rational thought.

This connection is made by showing them the silly, absurd things human beings do. But then show them the worst and best in all of us.

That inside every human being lives a great leader, with the power to inspire millions with a word. But inside every human being also lives a tyrant, who cultivates fear and dissent through propaganda and manipulation.

Inside every soldier lives a hero, who saves lives without regard for their own and stands up to injustice. But inside every soldier also lives a pawn, who only follows orders, and lets fear rob them of their spirit.

Inside every heart lives a lover, who puts their heart in the hands of another human being, risking shame, humiliation and pain for the chance at true happiness; who lets the one they love inspire them to be better, stronger, kinder. But inside every heart also lives a skeptic, who distrusts the world and lashes out with insecurity and fear. Fear of shame. Humiliation, Pain.

Inspiration. Fear. Heroism. Impotence. Happiness. Pain. In other words, being alive. This play shows what it is like to be alive. That we are all capable of greatness. That we need to strive for it. That we need to be better.

Be better.

~ Jimmy Stewart

theatre KAPOW presents Exit the King by Eugene Ionesco March 3 - 5, 2017

When did you first fall in love with theatre?

A few years ago (and undoubtedly this year) on Valentine’s day I saw a post online asking, “When did you first fall in love with theatre?” For me, this is both a simple and a complicated question. When did I first fall in love with “doing” theatre? As a child, I put on puppet shows, made tape recording of “radio plays” I wrote, and all kinds of make-believe happened. These are all forms of making theatre. I often think that I would love to climb under a table and have it be a secret entrance to another world like it was in Kindergarten.Once the awkwardness and tension of late elementary and middle school set in, I didn’t do any kind of theatre. Not until late in high school, on the other side of the work did I start. And since then I have not stopped.

When did I first fall in love with seeing theatre? I have three memories of seeing theatre as a young person. I was enthralled by the full transformation of space and the human form at a production of CATS when I was in 5th grade. (I know, a musical, and of all things, CATS.) It was magical. in 8th grade, I remember attending A Midsummer Night’s Dream at Arena Stage. Again: magical, but a different kind of magic this time. I remember so clearly that the part of Puck was played by a woman, and she wore black and white striped knee-highs below here cut-off pantaloons. The magic of this world was created simply, by the complete engagement of the body and voice of this actor, and by the clean lines and simplicity of the costumes.

Just as you develop and grow to learn what a loving relationship is, these early experiences weren’t really love, simply crushes. As a senior in college, I saw a production of Peer Gynt by the National Theater of the Deaf. I paid $5. (Oh, student prices!) I had studied the play in class, but there is no substitute for seeing/hearing/feeling a play. And this production used light and sound in ways that I had never experienced before. It wove puppets, mask and costume into the experience in ways that I had never experienced before. (I now know this production was a collaboration with Pilobolus.) A story of searching for one’s identity that is heart-wrenching and funny, and told/shown in such a compelling way. I sat in my chair when the show ended, not wanting it to be over, not wanting to move and break the spell. Again: a kind of magic.

My love of seeing theatre is refreshed anytime I see a show that moves me, that takes my breath away and makes me lean forward in my seat. I don’t always have that experience sitting in a theatre.  But these are the experiences I want to have: to have my ideas and assumptions challenged, to question what it means to be human and to see characters, or cities, or worlds, struggle with what it means to be a community. And my love of making theatre is closely tied to those same questions and challenges. I know a show is really good when I simultaneously think, “I can never do that and I should stop doing theatre altogether” AND “I want to do that and I must keep working.”

I fell in love with theatre and I stay in love with theatre when I see good work. It inspires me to do good work.  So, when did you first fall in love with theatre?

~Carey Cahoon

Season 8:breathe

Dream. Awake. See. Breathe.

There are so many reasons that breathe makes a fitting and wonderful theme for season 8. The Latin word spiro, to breathe, gives us the English word inspiration. And the related word spiritus means breath, the soul, vigor, that which animates life. The breath provides a return to the most basic thing that makes us alive.

Kristin Linklater gives a wonderful tip which applies to both the artistic life and quotidian life: “Do fall in love with your breathing. It's you. It's your emotions. It's your voice. It's not a machine." Frequently at our open trainings, we talk about the importance of returning to the basics of training, including voice and the breath. Season 8 will be a good season to reinforce that message and to connect respiration directly to the work on stage.

It is a very busy season with, ironically, few opportunities to come up for breath. We start off very early in September by returning to Seamus Heaney’s The Burial at Thebes for a fourth time. The production will be September 8th, 9th, and 10th at the Dana Center at Saint Anselm College. While it is a piece that we have explored a number of times, we always try to add new elements. This year we’ll be incorporating some puppetry including a brand new marionette that we had made specifically for the production by a carver in Prague.  

The first weekend of October (2nd-4th), tKAPOW will present Duncan Macmillan’s beautiful play Lungs. Lungs tells the story of a young couple living in a time of global anxiety, terrorism, erratic weather, and political unrest, who wants to have a child but are running out of time. If they over think it, they'll never do it. But if they rush, it could be a disaster. Macmillan expertly balances humor with heartbreak and really poses questions about how we can live (and love) in a world as tumultuous as ours.

For Halloween we’ll return to yet another familiar piece as we remount our award-winning production of Macbeth. Shakespeare’s famed “Scottish Play” as interpreted by three actors using minimal props and costumes. An audience member who saw the show last year commented,”The production had an amazingly guttural (raw) feel to it; the energy of the production was palpable.” This year, we’ll be taking the show to two venues where tKAPOW has never performed: Seacoast Repertory Theatre (October 29th-31st) and the Capitol Center for the Arts (November 6th).

The very popular ARTiculate playreading series at the Currier Museum of Art is now in its third year and will continue this year with two readings. The first play Bakersfield Mist by Stephen Sachs will be read December 13th. In this very funny new play, when it turns out that a thrift store gag gift may in fact be a long-lost Jackson Pollack painting, an expert is brought in to determine its authenticity. In March, tKAPOW will be reading Filming O’Keefe in relation to a piece in the Currier’s permanent collection: Cross by the Sea, Canada 1932, by Georgia O’Keefe. The play explores the relationship between O’Keefe and Alfred Stieglitz through the lens of a school project. The funny but poignant play explores the bonds of familial relationships as a teenage boy seeks to uncover his family’s hidden past.

After the success of 2013’s Penelope, tKAPOW is pleased to once again present a wonderful piece of contemporary Irish dramatic literature with Marie Jones’ Stones in His Pockets. This Olivier Award-Winning play (Best New Comedy, 2001) tells the story of a movie location shoot in Ireland, and the delightful, touching characters caught up in it. The piece is a comic tour-de-force for two actors who play all 15 roles. Not to be lost in the quick changes and ridiculous situations is a play with tremendous heart. Stones in His Pockets will be presented February 26th-28th at the Stockbridge Theatre.

In April, tKAPOW will return to the Currier for some very special events. tKAPOW, was part of a group of arts organizations and educational institutions that has come together to host a copy of Shakespeare’s First Folio. As part of the folio’s visit to NH, tKAPOW will be performing a selection of Shakespeare scenes (April 21st) and leading an educator workshop (April 23rd) at the museum.

May is a very busy month for tKAPOW. At the beginning of the month (April 29th-May 1st), we’ll be presenting George Brant’s explosive one-woman play Grounded. When an unexpected pregnancy ends an ace fighter pilot’s career in the sky, she is reassigned to operate military drones from a windowless trailer outside Las Vegas. She hunts terrorists by day and returns to her family each night. The play, which just completed a very successful New York run featuring Anne Hathaway, asks questions not only about the nature of modern warfare, but about its impact on families at home.

In mid May, tKAPOW goes on the road once again. This time we’ll be headed to the Charlestown Working Theatre in Boston to spend a week workshopping a new piece tentatively entitled Raining Aluminum. The piece weaves together the parallel storylines of the 1917 explosion in Halifax Harbor (and the corresponding American relief efforts) and refugee stories from Operation Yellow Ribbon (the Canadian response to the terrorist attacks on 9/11). While these two moments in history are often associated with great tragedy, Raining Aluminum seeks to highlight the tremendous instances of gratitude and the strength of human spirit. We are so thrilled to be collaborating with some fabulous artists on this project including the Czechoslovak American Marionette Theatre and world renown PEI fiddler, Cynthia MacLeod. The piece will be workshopped in Boston May 15th-21st in advance of the world premiere production at the Opera House in Derry June 24th-26th.

It will be a very busy season and one full of great theatre. In the words of the Buddhist monk, Thich Naht Hanh, “Smile, breathe, and go slowly.” A mantra for this busy season indeed.

The Necessity of Theater

Over the past few weeks, I have been reading The Necessity of Theater by Paul Woodruff. An excellent philosophical text, it challenged me to rethink what I define as theater, and what I define as good theater. Among other wonderful points, Woodruff asserts that theatre - the experience of watching and being watched - develops empathy. As watchers of good theatre, we are drawn to stories of characters that engage our emotion. This is not limited to “good” characters as opposed to “evil.” The capacity to pay attention to others for their own sake, is the basis of good ethics. This, he concludes, is what makes theatre necessary in our world. We practice the capacity to pay attention to others for their own sake, or more simply, to care about others. “When truth is spoken in theater, theater can show us what it is like to be the person who believes this truth.”

I am an avid reader of texts about theatre, acting, and performance technique, and a reader of plays. In The Necessity of Theater, Woodruff reminds me that reading a script, a “literary study”, is not the same as seeing a production. It is a valuable experience, but a very solitary one. In a similar way, the primary difference between theatre and film or television is the exchange of energy between actors and audience. The words on the page are stagnant, the carefully designed point of view of the film never changes. A script may be printed and notated, but for any given performance, the community of actors and audience members gathered in that place and in that moment of time is unique. The performance is ephemeral and is a unique yet shared experience. From this comes the value, the necessity of theater.


I am a theatre artist who believes in the importance of training, of practice. How can I “train” the capacity for empathy, for caring for others? How can I practice the crucial capacity for understanding and connection, and therefore for community? One of my goals for this year is to see good work more often, and thereby to develop the skills of being a good watcher, an active and engaged audience member. I believe that this will make me a better artist, and a better human being.
~ Carey Cahoon

Finding the familiar and facing the fear

Recently, theatre KAPOW was asked to collaborate with the NH Philharmonic on a program they were doing called Shakespeare Lives! The show featured pieces of classical music by some of the best composers of all time, including Tchaikovsky, Mendelssohn, and Verdi. The pieces all had one thing in common: they were all inspired by the plays of William Shakespeare. tKAPOW was asked to read some selections of text throughout the concert. Peter, Carey, and Olivia provided the audience with wonderful context for the pieces of music and it was a really amazing concert. While sitting there watching the show, I was struck by a couple of things. First, I was surprised by how much of the music I recognized though I was previously unaware of its connection to the bard (Mendelssohn’s Wedding March from A Midsummer Night’s Dream being the best example). Second, I found it incredible that so many pillars of classical music were inspired by the works of Shakespeare. What does it say about how great the work of an artist is when Tchaikovsky is inspired by it?

The opportunity to take part in this concert was particularly synchronistic as we are currently working on our first foray into Shakespeare in the mounting of Macbeth. Approaching any Shakespearean text, but perhaps more Macbeth than any other, you have the feeling of treading on hallowed ground. This is a work that has inspired (and terrified) generations throughout the world. One of the things that can be intimidating about this play is that you encounter one of the most iconic lines of text ever written at each turn of the page. Upon first reading, or first re-reading after a long time, it’s easy to have an experience similar to the one I had listening to those famous pieces of music. You come across a line and think “Ah, so that’s where that is from.” I find it fascinating that so much of Shakespeare’s language has transcended the plays in which it was first written. His quotes, in many cases, are more popular than his plays (Perhaps we should change the marketing for the show to read “Come see an actor deliver the famous ‘Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow’ speech!”). When you study this play closely, you find not only those famous lines but a number of sayings that have taken root as part of our common parlance. Without Macbeth, we’d have no “be-all and end-all,” no “one fell swoop,” no “sorry sight,” and, perhaps most tragically, no “Knock, knock! Who’s there?” It’s obviously no secret that Shakespeare was a great wordsmith, but it’s the way he brings the language together in such an incredibly efficient and compact way that makes Macbeth stand apart from so many great plays.

We are in tech week for the show and that means that we are within just a few days of sharing our work with audiences. We do so with an understanding that this production is one in a long line of productions that trace their way all the way back to the tip of Shakespeare’s quill. tKAPOW’s production uses only three actors to play all the roles in the play. We did this not to try to “do something new” (when it comes to Macbeth, everything new has already been done), but to place emphasis on the story. Our production features three storytellers aware of their place in the storytelling process. They take on their roles in view of the audience using just a few simple props and actively include the audience in the telling (don’t worry, you won’t be asked to murder anyone). While a big cast outfitted in period Scottish costumes playing on a realistically painted castle set may be nice, we opt instead to bring you a production with a little less “sound and fury.” What you’ll see is three actors at the top of their game sharing one of the greatest stories ever told. We can only hope that our production will inspire the next great symphony.

Photo by Matthew Lomanno

~ Matt Cahoon

Instant Acting and Kismet

Just add water...and a script, a director, a castmate, copious amounts of coffee.... a couple of slices of pizza won’t hurt.

Walking into the kickoff meeting of the 2014 24 Hour Play Festival, I really had no idea what to expect, but I thought I did. I knew there would be about 30 people there. I knew that five playwrights and five directors would be paired up by the luck of the draw and that the rest of us would be assigned to a cast by lottery.  But I did not know the sweet moments of kismet, or the confidence in my ability to work fast….really fast, and pretty well.  I’m hooked.

I knew two people in the room, Debera Lund and Olivia Dodd, a director and an actor with whom I’d just worked for a week last month. I secretly hoped I’d work with Deb, because I liked her process and didn’t get to work with her nearly long enough. The first playwright, Patrick Cleary got to pick a card from the “director” group. He drew Debera. After the other playwrights randomly chose their directors, they got to pick their cast size. Patrick drew a cast of two.

Then, Debera was the first director to “cast” the show by blindly picking cards with the actors’ pictures on them. Suddenly, the picking-teams-in-gym-class feeling washed over me. I thought, “Please don’t let me be the last kid picked. Please don’t let me be the last kid picked”, until I realized that having a card with your face on it picked at random is more like being part of a card trick than being chosen (or not) for a dodgeball team. Debera picked my card first. Hooray! First kismet moment. By the end of the evening, our team included Patrick, Deb, myself, and a young actress named Jasmine Roth, who also happened to be one of the playwrights for the Festival.

The playwrights then chose a prompt in the form of an image or a quote. Our prompt was a picture of the M. C. Escher elephant. He chose a genre: Drama. There were a few minutes for the four of us to get together. When I meet new people, I fight an urge to talk. It is my job to make everyone in the group comfortable. Or uncomfortable, as the case may be. Even when it’s not. Somehow, I blurted out something about having a wicker table in the shape of an elephant. Because, you know, elephant is sort of random. It seemed like a team-building statement. Well, guess what? It kind of was. Because Patrick said he sometimes likes to approach things literally, and what did the elephant table look like, exactly? So I described it. Second kismet moment.

After the kickoff, the actors and directors got to go home to re-convene in the morning. The playwrights were challenged to write a play before 7:00 AM, while the rest of us slept. Although, I am not sure sleep is an accurate description. My mind was “on” all night. Would I get there in time? Would I be able to get my son to his cross-country team breakfast at approximately the same time I had to be at the theatre? Who was going to braid my daughter’s hair for her own theatrical performance that night? Would John, my husband, encounter any crazy theatre-dad issues he was unprepared for? Would everyone have enough to eat? (That last question is always there...I am probably the reincarnation of somebody’s zaftig ethnic grandmother….but I digress).

8:00 AM. On time. And Deb is already here. And there are scripts on the table for us to read. And there’s coffee! And a wifi password! Oh, this has already surpassed my expectations.  Jasmine arrives. Patrick is having some well-earned sleep. To me he has become an elusive fairy-godfather who worked through the night to deliver us an incredibly crafted play to bring to life. The script is entitled “Possession”. And, yes, it does involve an elephant-shaped wicker table. And the conflict between two women, a hoarder and her well-intentioned family member, at odds over the inherent value of stuff. And whether the table is, in fact, a table, or an elephant sculpture. I read it. I love it. It’s 10 pages (not, 17, thank you Patrick!). It’s about people I’m related to. You see, I have the I-break-at-yard-sales gene. (That’s a thing, right?)  I fight that gene tooth and nail, but I have it. Third kismet moment.  

In the script there’s a squabble over an opal ring. An opal ring, really?  Fourth kismet moment.

And we began. In spite of having Debera Lund as our director, I was certain this would have to be a day of blocking and memorizing. How can you possibly find the depth and soul of a character whose ink is barely dry in 10 hours? How can you create a backstory and undercurrents to the character relationships before lunch with a story that has just been read for the first time. Well, you can. You SO can! And, all of a sudden, I recalled days of working summer theatre twenty years ago….when ten days seemed more than sufficient to work on a full-length musical and fill a 1,300 seat house for two weekends.  It’s called total immersion. We had a day. But we had that WHOLE day. There was no world outside to attend to. Yes, we took breaks. Yes, we ate lunch. But those were the moments when the things we worked on took the time to seep into our limbic centers. There were no distractions. No one needed us to make their lunches. No one needed a ride to a friend’s house. No one needed to take over the kitchen with three friends to make cupcake sans recipe. And not a single person brought mud potion into the rehearsal room and accidentally spilled it.

We blocked. We formed relationships between the characters beyond the story at hand. We got to know these two women Patrick created literally overnight out of a prompt and a commitment. Debera was there to share her metaphors, to guide us, to push us to change up our approach, and change it back, and find the sweet spot. She calls it “whiplash” directing. I call it brilliant.

Jasmine and I got to know each other pretty well, in an “I’m-sorry-I-have-to-grab-you-and-throw-you-on-this-pile-of-hoarded-stuff” sort of a way. (The director made me do it.) In spite of the fact that she was up most of the night writing a play for another team, she was good. She was quick. She was a lot of fun to work with. My character was sort of obviously nuts. Her character was more difficult, I thought, walking a fine line between being a supportive and loving family member and just having-it-up-to-HERE already!

We teched at five. Our show opened at 7:30. First up. And we did it. We formed characters out of Patrick’s well-placed words on a page and adrenalin and coffee and water and trust and thought and repetition. Fifth kismet moment. And I want to do it again.

~ Deirdre Hickok Bridge