Artists I admire: the cast and creative team of The Color Purple

This past Wednesday evening, I had the distinct pleasure of seeing the current Broadway revival of The Color Purple. I went with a friend from work who I often see theatre with, andthese artistic experiences that we have together fuel all sorts of discussions and thinking that we do about current events, cultural trends, and social justice issues. Given our interests and past production choices, The Color Purple seemed like a great choice. The revival, directed by John Doyle, had received a positive review in The New York Times, and I personally was curious to see Jennifer Hudson. I wouldn't call myself a fan, but I'm interested when "big names" make Broadway debuts.

Well, within the first five minutes of the show, I knew we were in for it, in the very best way possible. The staging immediately set the tone for an experience that would be ensemble-driven and focused on storytelling. A simple scenic design kept our focus on the acting and the singing, and the singing was extraordinary. This company of performers may be the strongest group of singers I've ever seen on Broadway. A lot of power and precision, led by the incredibly gifted Cynthia Erivo as Celie and Jennifer Hudson as Shug Avery. Jennifer Hudson sang effortlessly, alone and in her duets with Erivo, and then when it was time, she stepped back into the line and blended beautifully with the other female ensemble members. Erivo stepped out and up, and suddenly we were presented with this extraordinary singing force, filled with powerful interpretation and nuance. It was there all along, but Erivo was so skilled at calibrating her performance to mirror Celie's journey, that when she revealed the depth and power of the character, the vocal matched it in a transformative way. Her performance is a master class in playing a character's arc, one that I want every one of my acting students to see. It was an unforgettable experience from start to finish.

I've highlighted Ervino and Hudson, but the entire ensemble deserves praise and recognition. All of the principals, including Isaiah Johnson (Mister), Danielle Brooks (Sofia), Kyle Scatliffe (Harpo), and Joaquina Kalukango (Nettie) are fantastic, and the company as a whole is great. After the curtain call, I heard someone say, "I've never been to a Broadway show where everyone could sing so well." Totally agreed. If you want to hear some power and moving voices, then you should get a ticket to this show. Pronto.

Unforgettable. And an absolute privilege to witness. Particularly in a season when one show is getting so much popular attention and praise. Well-deserved I'm sure, but seeing The Color Purple illustrated just how important it is that I pay attention to everything that's happening.

For bringing such joy and power and commitment to their performances, for showing what clean and focused direction and design can achieve, for sharing an amazing story that needs to be heard now more than ever, for stopping the show twice for standing ovations (Cynthia Erivo), and for giving me another evening in the theatre that I'll never forget, the cast and creative team of The Color Purple are the artists I admire for this week.

Earning a moment

For one of the projects in my undergraduate directing class, I require students to create a non-verbal story set to a song of their choice. I think of the project as a live music video of sorts. The story that the director chooses to tell can have direct connections to the song, or the song can simplify provide the underscoring for the story.

I always learn a lot from seeing what my students create for this assignment. To begin, I discover a lot about popular music, as I hear songs by artists I didn't know existed. I also have the chance to see how new approaches to staging might work (or not) in the Provincetown Playhouse, where I'm lucky enough to teach the class. I love working in this theatre, but like any performance space, it has its idiosyncrasies and challenges. My students have taught me tons about the space as they present their projects each fall.

The projects also usually teach me something about playwriting, as I'm always reminded of how important it is to be conscious of how characters earn the right to know a piece of information. So often we rely on coincidences or magical solutions to help move a plot forward, and as a result, a character suddenly knows something important without having discovered it in full view of the audience.  Or a discovery happens more quickly than it would be possible in logical, real life circumstances. It's in these moments that I talk to young directors about making sure that characters earn the information that they have access to in a story. This is an important lesson for playwrights as well, and actors should keep it in mind as they work to discover how the characters they play make meaning of their worlds. All of these elements need to be considered if we want an audience to buy into the authenticity of the stories we tell.

Earning a moment requires investment in all of the given circumstances leading up to that moment. A playwright needs to write that clearly, a director needs to stage it with attention to rhythm and pacing, and an actor needs to play it with logical responses in mind that allow the moment to be legible for an audience.

Preparing to eat some pie...humble flavored

It’s 1:00am on Saturday morning, and I should be in bed.  The alarm will go off at about 5:00am, as I’m scheduled to be on a train at 6:45am to Philadelphia, where my brother Kevin will pick me up, and we’ll head to the second half of a 24-hour play festival.

As I type this, five playwrights are up writing as well, frantically piecing together a ten-minute play that must be submitted via email to the producer of the event by 7:00am.  This madness is part of a fundraiser for Learning Stages, the theatre company that I co-founded and have worked with for 20 years.  I’ve participated in these 24-hour events before in a few different places, but tomorrow will be my first foray into acting in one of these “quickies” and my first time on stage in about two and a half years.

Given that I am writing and directing a project for NYU at the moment, I thought it would make sense to do something “easier” and just act.  That sounded like a good idea four months ago when the date was set and I committed to it, but on Friday morning when it registered that I was going to be acting in front of 200 people in about 36 hours, I suddenly had second thoughts.  I’m tired from my own process, I’m frustrated with this particular moment where I’m waiting for elements to come together, and I’m weary of the rehearsal process.  The last thing I want to do is get up in front of a group of people and have to be funny or vulnerable or whatever the playwright hands me.  I started the day in a shite mood about this, wondering how I could get out of the trip altogether.

Later in the day, I had a bit of a revelation while talking with my dear friend and colleague, Judyie Al-bilali.  She had stopped into the office to prep for her next class meeting, and we started talking over the photocopier about the show and my frustrations and lots of other things.  We got into a discussion about actors and acting and teaching and directing actors in a university setting, and suddenly it dawned on me that going to New Jersey and acting in a short, ten-minute play was exactly what I needed to do in this moment.  I needed the humbling experience of remembering what it means to be an actor.

Two weeks out from opening, and this is about the time when the pressure starts to wear on me, and the actors become easy targets for my impatience and discontent with the process in general.  They are struggling to retain their lines and remember their blocking on an ever-evolving set that’s different every day that we go into rehearsal.  It’s easy to become frustrated, sitting out in the house, my script plopped open and coffee in hand, thinking I know it all, as they flounder around, valiantly I might add, working hard to tell the stories that we’ve spent the last four weeks exploring and creating together.  The task before them is overwhelming, and the last thing that any of them need is a director without compassion or empathy.

And so it goes that I’m going to eat some humble pie in a few hours and remember what it means to be an actor, what it means to hold a script in my hand and to have to communicate someone else’s story to an audience of people looking to be entertained or enlightened about the world.  Hopefully, the experience will be a positive one for all of us involved in the 24-hour play festival, but however it turns out, I know that the experience will remind me that the actor is the primary communication material that any playwright or director has to work with, and that knowing what it means to be an actor and tell a clear story to an audience will be invaluable to me as I enter the last stages of my own rehearsal process.  Without that compassion and empathy for the actor’s experience, I won’t get very far as the director, and neither will my production.