MINNEAPOLIS/ST. PAUL

By Jayme McGhan

The professional theatre has a new branch. Smack in the middle of the glossed over rows of indistinguishable houses, next to the mega strip malls with the Bed Bath and Beyond in the middle shining like the last bastion of soccer-mom bliss, around the corner from the forty-seventh Starbucks/Caribou/Dunn Brothers, nestled in the remnants of an honest to God strip mall from the eighties is the new home of the Twin Cities metro areas latest artistic endeavor, Yellow Tree Theatre. This is theatre for the burbs and by the burbs. You can’t beat it with a stir stick.

You also can’t help but admire the absolute tenacity and bravery the dynamic duo who started it possess. While all of their peers are heading to graduate school to continue their education, Jason Peterson and Jessica Lind figure they’ll just take the money they would have dumped in to an educational institution and open up their own theatre instead. Oh, it helps that they’re married and can co-sign a loan and a lease. The young husband and wife (father and mother as well), both originally hailing from one of the many suburbs of Minneapolis and St. Paul, recently moved back to Minnesota from New York City with exactly this plan in mind; to start a professional theatre company in the suburbs. Jason, a talented actor with television credits including Six Degrees, Guiding Light, and As The World Turns will serve as the companies Artistic Director while Jessica, a member of the Guild, will get the joy of watching her plays on her own stage. The theatre will kick-off their season with Jessica’s play String this fall. In the meantime, a festival of short work will introduce the community to Yellow Tree Theatre in May.

“We always wanted to start a theatre in New York, but it was simply too overwhelming. Minnesota seemed right for us,” says Jessica. “There’s a ton of exciting theatre in the downtown area,” adds Jason, “but we wanted to bring the theatre to our own community, where we live. So we though, why not Osseo?” Why not Osseo indeed? After all, there are nearly two million people within twenty square miles of the northern suburb. Located on an extremely busy intersection, well over forty-thousand of this built in audience drive past Yellow Tree Theatre’s space every day. And what a space it is. Converted from the warehouse section of an old strip mall, the theatre now takes up a majority of the square footage and includes a lovely wine bar and socializing area.

The happy couple met while pursuing their undergraduate theatre degrees at the University of Minnesota, Duluth. Married during their junior year, they began to get that inevitable bug to try their hand at New York theatre. After graduating, they moved to NYC and, for a short while at least, began a relatively successful climb. But it sure wasn’t a bowl full of cherries. “I was in constant communication with an editor at Samuel French who was trying to shop my play to a New York audience,” explains Jessica. “He finally told me that there simply wasn’t a market for my writing there. According to him, New York audiences don’t like happy endings. So, what’s the next move after that? Minnesota.” Hopefully Minnesota audiences do like happy endings.

“We want to tell good stories, that’s it. We want to produce new and exciting plays,” says Jason. “We don’t want to be a theatre for theatre people, for artists, for those who are already a part of the mix. We want to produce theatre for people who don’t see theatre,” he adds. “Even if we tried to be a theatre for theatre people, we’d fail at it,” laughs Jessica. Yellow Tree’s mission statement backs this up one-hundred percent, exclaiming proudly, “We want to see your uncle Al, the big burly truck-driver in the third row, get out his hanky, wipe his eyes, and blame it on hay fever.” In an industry that seems to continually be filled to the brim with artistic nepotism, this concept is an absolute gasp of fresh air.

Of course, the risks are high. In a country where new theatre companies fold quicker than an omelet, these two are putting their money where their mouth is. They took out a small business loan to get the theatre on its feet. “We’re positive we’ll at least break even. Worst case scenario, we walk out after our two year lease is done in debt,” says Jason. “But if we went to graduate school, we’d walk out after two years in the same debt. We’ll just consider this the school of hard knocks.” Jessica pipes up with conviction, “I’m more afraid of not pursuing my dream, what I really love to do, then being in a little bit of debt. It’s more important to us that we give it a go, and maybe establish a community while we’re at it. It’s not Broadway, it’s not the Guthrie, but it’s ours.” It seems that being behind the wheel of your own fate is, with a little roll of the dice, possible. Not only possible but perhaps preferable to leaving it in the hands of a literary manager/casting director/artistic director who have their own visions to worry about, sponsors to please, and friends to produce. Yellow Tree Theatre seems bent on proving it.

So all you suburbanites out there who have been wandering in the stucco-front capitalist desert without a fulfilling artistic drink for what seems like ages…never you fear. Yellow Tree Theatre has arrived. And they want you to invite your uncle Al.

MINNEAPOLIS/ST. PAUL

By Jayme McGhan

I met her at a laid back Minneapolis restaurant around seven p.m. Approximately three hours and five or six ice-cold Belgian lagers later (who’s counting really?) and it occurred to me that Kimberly Burke, a Minneapolis based playwright and musician, is indeed a talent to be reckoned with. The girl can play. The girl can drink. She’s got a smile and personality that’ll knock the blues back. And, most importantly, you better believe she can write.

Here’s the rap sheet: writer of Minus Tide, Lacuna, Taboo and various others, recipient of the Michener Fellowship for playwriting at UT Austin, a Jerome Fellow, member of Workhaus Collective, a core-member of Austin Scriptworks, commissions from The Guthrie, The History Center, Emigrant Theatre and more, a number of awards and recognitions, productions across the country, numerous workshops and readings, and all in a very short period of time. Kim’s plays can easily be described as darkly lyrical, almost melodiously geared without the necessity of instruments. The cadences are laid out so clear to the eye and ear that one might think they are reading an epic poem or an exceptionally good book to a musical. It turns out that there is a mighty fine reason for her stylistic writing. Kim is a rockstar.

Well, not completely. Not yet at least. When she’s not plugging away at the screen, chewing on her Nicorette (she quit smoking some time ago but still refuses to write without it), she is balancing her secondary life as a musician. Kim plays bass guitar in the increasingly popular Austin based alt-rock band Shearwater. So how does her music inform her writing, and vice versa? “I find that the role of the playwright and the role of the bass guitarist are very similar. I create the rhythm and the template for each, allowing other artists to build on top of it. I also try to find the story through the words, not just the rhythms. I try not to value one more than the other.” As an added bonus, she also gets a few nagging impulses out of the way while on stage. “I love the band because it allows me to have fun, to play, to take care of that pesky need to perform,” she admits.

Kim began acting at an early age after seeing the West End production of Starlight Express with her mother. “I was absolutely enraptured by that show. I figured it would be a good idea to start getting on the stage,” she says with a smile. She later enrolled at The University of the South in Sewanee TN as a theatre major with an emphasis in acting. “The truth is, while I loved acting completely, I wasn’t going to be any good. Playwriting scared the living hell out of me. So I figured I’d do it,” she remarks calmly. After taking a few years off and working as the Marketing Director for Hyde Park Theatre and the Fringe Festival, she applied for and received the coveted Michener Fellowship at UT Austin. Three years later she was awarded her M.F.A in Playwriting. Immediately following that she landed another coveted award, the Jerome Fellowship, through The Playwrights Center.

Kim describes her writing as relationship plays with elements of the fantastic. “I always start with one image, and that image becomes a metaphor. The image for Lacuna was a tattoo. That tattoo became the driving force for the play. Recently I’ve been interested in palimpsest, the idea of many layers of writing overlapping other layers. I’m not sure what I’ll do with it yet, but those are the kinds of images that get me started.” These images are certainly palpable in her plays; one iconic figure invoking another and another until each image adds up to a whole.

When asked what kind of theatre moves her she chooses her words carefully, “The theatre I care about is the theatre I make an emotional connection to. It may be simple, but that’s the truth. I am pleasantly surprised by contemporary playwrights because they are allowing their characters to lie in ways that they never have before.” After a second or third bathroom break, another pull of the pint and a coy smile, she makes an admission that almost makes me shoot hops through my nose, “I hate to disclose this, but I’m also a big structure geek. I’m often moved to tears by well structured plays. I know, I know, it’s not normal!”

With various productions on the horizon including the world-premier of her new play “The Trials of Gertrude Moody” at Workhaus Collective, Kimberly Burke is making her presence known. Which brings up a lovely thought; what if playwrights were treated like rockstars? What if there were red-carpet extravaganzas for dramatists with thousands of fans stalking the velvet rope for a glimpse of the new generation of writers who have something intriguing to say? I’d like to think that Kim would show up fashionably late in the back of an Aston-Martin with a mostly emptied bottle of Belgian lager in one hand, the other hand proudly hoisting up a middle finger at those damn paparazzi, and her mouth agape as she screams at the top of her lungs beautiful poetic words that make your soul crumble.

It’s fun to dream, isn’t it?

Minneapolis/St. Paul

By Jayme McGhan

You would think they were affectionate siblings the way they riff off one another, but Trista Baldwin, Dominic Orlando, and Deborah Stein, co-founders of Workhaus Collective, Minneapolis’ newest theatrical endeavor, are simply three talented writers who have a pretty groovy and revolutionary idea; put the playwright in charge. Wait. What? The playwright? You mean that creepy little bundled enigma in the corner who won’t stop biting her fingernails? Yup, her. As Ms. Baldwin says warmly, looking up from her cup of hot tea, “Put up or shut up.”

Workhaus began as an unrefined idea, bouncing between the craniums of the three. “I’d like to spearhead a ban against the word “organic,” but that’s what this is. There’s no other way to put it,” says Mr. Orlando, a firecracker of a personality whose show A Short Play About Globalization successfully kicked off the new season for Workhaus. “So many companies are producing new plays, but they’re producing the approved new plays. We’re simply attempting to get the raw material out there,” adds Ms. Stein. “We wanted to put the production in the hands of the playwright, to give them artistic authority.”

Essentially, Workhaus places the enviable hard-hat of Artistic Director on the playwrights head, putting them in charge and making them responsible for their own art. This is not, however, a one-person show. Playwrights do not necessarily direct or design their own work, but do have full-say in who does. Also, to ease the load, certain production quandaries and responsibilities: fundraising, AEA contracts, and the like, are relieved by the other collective members so that the playwright can focus solely on their production. Workhaus Collective’s season, produced at the Waring Jones Theatre in The Playwrights Center, consists of three to four shows per year. Each writer is slotted a production and must make the decision for themselves what work of theirs they want to see performed. There is no committee meetings, no board of advisors to choose a show. It’s simply a writer and their gut instinct. “What do you want to see on stage?” asks Ms. Stein. “Well then, go ahead and do it.” We should all be so lucky.

The three co-founders certainly have a great deal of credibility to back up there incredulous claim that playwrights can, in fact, be in charge. With a mess of Jerome Fellowships, McKnight Advancement Grants, and a myriad of national and local productions between the three of them, it’s difficult to call them on it. And, really, who wants to? The ultimate aim for the company is to simply get new work on its feet and running. “A play is not a play without the third dimension,” says Ms. Baldwin, whose play Sand will receive it’s Off-Broadway premiere in the coming months. “A play shouldn’t work in a reading. If it works in a reading, there is most likely a problem. Playwrights are not literary creatures.” she adds. “Writers and their plays are, for the most part, homeless,” remarks Mr. Orlando. “And what we want, all of us, is a home for our work. Our hope is that we’ve found it here in Minneapolis.”

The Collective currently consists of the three founding members plus five rotating satellite members. New membership will be considered as the Collective continues to rotate. “New members will have to be okay with the fact that this is a marriage, a family.” says Ms. Stein. “Membership means that the playwright must be honest in their creation. They have to be willing to let one another be wrong, to learn from each experience,” adds Ms. Baldwin. Asked what their number one requirement for future membership would be, Mr. Orlando says with conviction, “A Workhaus member has to have a sense of event, of full-on theatricality. Without that, there’s nothing.”

Making a concerted effort to uncover something new in theatrical collaboration seems to be the course laid out for this eclectic crew. “Concrete solutions have not been attempted to this juncture,” says Mr. Orlando. “Once we put our faith in the writer to make these decisions, anything is possible. Who knows what’s going to happen?” he exclaims. “Who knows what the audience experience will be?” adds Ms. Stein. “We want to make the Twin Cities audience jazzed on us, to give them an entirely new theatre occurrence.” In fact, as the four of us sat outside a comfortable Up-Town restaurant, the three co-founders seemed to make rather important discoveries about each other, oblivious and unafraid that an outsider was, in fact, writing down every word that left their mouths. The willingness and excitement to make these new discoveries may very well be what propels the Collective forward in the coming years.

With all of the development, workshops, and readings offered by producing companies across the country, it’s good to know that Workhaus Collective is putting their words where they belong…on the stage. “We’re not removing ourselves from the apparatus,” says Ms. Baldwin. “We’re simply offering an alternative that we hope will be absorbed by our community.” With any luck, the Twin Cities will not be the only sponge to soak up their philosophy.

MINNEAPOLIS/ST. PAUL
By Jayme McGhan

August 1st. On my way to rehearsal for a show I was directing, I decided to stop off at the University of Minnesota to drop off some flyers. I rolled in to campus at around 5:30 p.m., propped some eye-catching bright green postcards on the counters of local coffee shops, and made my way back to the rehearsal space. I drove over the I-35W Bridge a little before 6:00 to make it back to the south side of Minneapolis. When I arrived at the rehearsal space twenty minutes later, I opened my internet browser to check my e-mail. Headline: I-35W Bridge collapses at 6:05. No shit. Besides the obvious moment of panic, the whole “What have I done with my life up to this juncture that warrants me still being alive?” reaction to an intense situation, my initial response was, like that of the actors in the show, true concern for those who were trapped. But, somewhat to my own disgust in hindsight, a more selfish concern came to mind an hour or so in to the rehearsal. How will this affect the attendance of the Minnesota Fringe Festival? Thank God for Minnesotans. They pitched in, did everything they could, and no doubt saved many lives. And they still turned out to the festival in droves.
The Minnesota Fringe Festival, now in its fourteenth year, is one of the biggest in the world. And though attendance was down a bit this year due to the general zeitgeist of the Twin Cities after the collapse, the festival was still successful. With 162 companies producing 162 shows in 11 days at 22 venues, many coming from around the country, the MN fringe is a little piece of two different worlds. It can be both that extremely tangible and magnificent dream that changes a small piece of you AND that horrific nightmare where you wake up screaming in a puddle of your own sweat. The Fringe is not, unlike many of its counterparts, a juried festival. All shows are chosen randomly by lottery. This is of benefit to new, up-and-coming companies who desire a spot in a nationally recognized festival. But it also leaves a good deal of talented companies and productions on the outskirts, left with nothing but hope that enough shows will drop out and that maybe they will be called up from a waiting list the length of a Russian novel. The random chance picks for what shows are in the festival makes the audiences job a little more difficult. It’s never fun walking in blind to a show you know nothing about…and walking out ten-minutes later. That problem has been slightly remedied, however, by encouraging audience members to write reviews on the Fringe’s website. The MN Fringe also supplies ten official bloggers/critics who keep theatre-goers abreast of what shows to see and which ones to avoid like the plague. But, like anything else, taste is everything. And the Minnesota Fringe is the Old Country Buffet of theatre.
There are, of course, the local favorites; companies that have been producing shows at the fringe for nearly a decade now. Their shows receive a massive amount of hype and sell out quickly, the critics all love them dearly (as most of them are friends), warranted or not, and the audience usually enjoys the product. Then there are the neophytes; folks who have never fringed before and may never do it again. These are truly hit and miss. Some are amazing, some are absolutely wretched, and most fall somewhere in-between. There are the movement performances from local dance companies that are almost always worth a watch. There are a handful of children’s plays that keep the smiles on the youngster’s faces…and mine, coincidentally. And, of course, what fringe would be complete without the nine-hundred thousand solo-shows that stampede the festival like the beaches of Normandy.
Spread out across the city and using such venues as Bedlam Theatre, Theatre de la Jeune Lune, Mixed Blood, and the Minneapolis Theatre Garage, the festival is on a fairly massive scale. But the intimacy of each show and company is what contributes to its success. And the connection between the Fringe staff and the artists is palpable. They are there for the sole purpose of helping the artists. And they are good at what they do. Aside from the courteous nature of the staff, each company is given four full access passes to see any show for free, plus twenty golden comps for their own shows to hand out as they see fit. And for those companies that worry about the four-hundred dollar entrance fee, never you fear. The fringe allows each producing company to keep sixty-five percent of the house take. That well exceeds most fringe festivals in the country, and more than covers the entrance fee and costs. Believe it or not, it’s possible to actually make some money doing a fringe. Not enough to buy that new Audi you’ve always wanted, but certainly enough to buy the arm rest. As an almost objective opinion and a completely unsolicited plug, any company out there looking to expand your reach and experience a new theatre scene should highly consider entering the lottery for 2008.
More than anything, the MN Fringe is an opportunity for artists and audience members alike to feel like a community. Each night, after a long day of fringing, an after party is held somewhere in Minneapolis. One evening in particular, myself and the members of Cockroach Theatre (Las Vegas) who were touring one of my shows to the fringe, found ourselves sitting around a table at Joe’s Garage, a local haunt, with a few pints of Midwestern micro-brews in hand. The company members ventured off to mingle with the other folk, leaving me alone at the table to watch the goings on. Sitting there, I could do nothing but smile at the dozens of audience members interacting with the performers. They were asking questions about the shows, telling stories of how they related to a particular character or plot line, and showing genuine interest in what these people had to say. One older gentleman in particular had a tear in his eye as he relayed the story of his wife who passed away to a female actor he swore talked just like her in a production he witnessed that evening. And the great part is that the artists were expressing their interest right back. They wanted to know who these people were, where they came from, and their candid thoughts on the shows they had seen. All maudlin emoting aside, it may have been the first time I saw that very real connection I heard so much about in my undergraduate Intro to Theatre class. A relationship was sparked on the stage that evolved in to personal conversation with no pretense or agenda. Lovely. Maybe it was the micro-brew talking? Maybe it was the nearly near death experience a few days earlier? But for the first time in a long time, it felt really damn good to be a part of the theatre.
For more information, please visit the Minnesota Fringe Festival Website at: www.fringefestival.org

Cockroach Theatre recently opened a production of my play "The Methuselah Tree" in Las Vegas. The reviews came out this week, absolutely annihilating the show. The critics, Anthony DelValle of the Las Vegas Review Journal, and Steve Bornfeld of Las Vegas City Life collectively called the play both a "metaphoric mess" and "simple...the audience is two steps ahead of the writer." How it can live in both worlds, I'm not sure? That said, the play also garnered a great amount of support at it's run in the Minnesota Fringe Festival. Caitlin Gilmet, one of the fringe critics, called the play "...top of mind when I'm recommending shows to others. Jayme McGhan's script is fascinating; highly recommended for writers, armchair philosophers, or humorists. The acting is some of the best I've seen in Fringe, and the show is thrilling, heartbreaking, and unexpected."

Hmmmm...how can it be both an absolute mess and fascinating/thrilling at the same time? Well, I'm not quite sure to be perfectly honest. In fact, it kind of irked me a bit to know that so many people absolutely hate the show while so many people absolutely love it. The question is, why? Why can't it just be a generally enjoyable night of theatre?

Will Adamson, the Artistic Director of Cockroach wrote an open letter to address the issue. I think his insight is invaluable, has answered many questions for me, and I thank him for it:

Dear readers and theatre patrons,

I've just read our second review from our Las Vegas leg of our run of the original dark comedy, The Methuselah Tree, and I just had to jot a thought or two. The title of the review is "The twilight drone," and the production is cited as a "campy mess."

The review journal review: "Methuselah' tries to make something out of nothing"

A Point of information: Cockroach Theatre traveled to Minnesota for a national Fringe festival with this same play- same cast (aside from our new apparition character, The Man in the Attic)- with the same blocking, same lines, same intentions, and yet - a completely different audience. I offer this only as a side-bar because I am suprised at the local critics response to a show that was written up so gloriously by our preceding audience.

fringefestival.com: "I had heard good things about this show, and it exceeded anything I thought it would bring. The acting is unbelievable..."

In fact, what I've discovered (and please see the show and call me out on this) is that the line seems to be drawn in the sand pretty objectively- people really love this play (belly laugh at the jokes, discuss it passionately, and come back to see it in repetition)- or get so lost thinking too hard- it becomes a "metaphorical mess..."- a frustrating and unpleasant experience.

What changes nightly on this show that the response can be so dramatically different?

The audience. The experience becomes so dramatically different from night to night- as a cast, I feel like our audience becomes our final character- "what type of play are we doing tonight?" And that is what makes this play such a strong piece of theatre. It can stand alone as a comedy, an absurdist perspective on the fleeting nature of life- cast a line to people who have a strong faith and inspire them to discuss "The MAn in the Attic" and what happens when he/she's no longer present in your life.

The real richness of a live performance comes to the surface with a script like this, and you can "over"-think it. Most people do. During our run in Minneapolis, a ten year old girl was overheard in the lobby after the show. To paraphrase, she said:

"the man in the attic is God and Jeremy died and danced in heaven with his mom and god at the carnival"

yup.

I don't think this play is a metaphorical mess. I think there is an overall theme that you understand or do not- depending on your personal faith- and that is:

"Humanity needs God- not religion- but a personal connection with something greater than ourselves to finally be happy and healthy. Without it, we're doomed to toil in our basements to find a solution that was never there to begin with."

Do I think you should see this play more than once to enjoy the richness of it?

Yes.

I would say the same thing about Shakespeare, Mamet, Williams, Beckett, Sartre, Checkoff, and a few other guys that did ok in the performing arts. Jayme McGhan, please keep writing and inspiring people to challenge their brains to think about life in a different way- otherwise Theatre Companies like Cockroach Theatre would have thrown in the towel years ago and died of saddness for lack of having interesting words to say, and worthy scripts to produce for the survival of our chosen collaborative art form.

Cast/Crew- lets have a great show tonight- we've got a story to tell.

Respectively,

William Adamson
Artistic Director,
Cockroach Theatre Group

I am proud of what we've done as a collaborative group. The actors are phenomenal, the direction is wonderful, and the overall effort has been magnificent. Whether you find yourself in the hate column, or the love column...just know that Cockroach Theatre will continue to push the theatre to a place where it needs to be, angry critics and all. Thank God for that.