Okay, got the new front page up. Tonight I hope to finish the final 10% of the script, rearranging bits of Inanna's monologue from the StN audiobook to give Reed some of her words, and decide where to put it in the script.
This is the first year that I'll be doing a show for the Fringe Festival without having been part of the organization of the Fringe. I started at the Fringe, what, four, five years ago. I remember sitting with Dean Seal (then new Executive Producer and all-around theatre impresario) at the Caribou coffee with a handful of other people, figuring out what the heck we were going to do. I remember trying to put together the venue signs at the Loring Playhouse and finding they had no hammer in their scene shop.
For those who have never been to a Fringe Festival, this is how it works: instead of a review committee that decides which plays are good enough to be seen, you get a bunch of theatre companies, and bunch of venues (which may or may not be actual theatre spaces the rest of the year), and over the course of 10 days (here in Minneapolis, anyway) you get over a hundred different productions.
It's a theatre overdose. And it's absolutely fantastic.
In the course of those ten days, you'll probably see the worst play you've ever seen. And you'll probably see the best play you've ever seen.
I remember watching the "post-modern juggling" of Blink and being utterly dumbfounded that someone could combine existentialism and bowling pins. I remember watching someone do something that seemed like performance art they'd show on Laverne and Shirley, only she was serious. "Wow, people still do that," I thought. The next year I saw a thirty minute play called "Chasing Rabbits" which was absolutely chilling.
Trying to put together a Fringe show is a challenge in and of itself. It has to be less than an hour and be able to get on and offstage in ten minutes. And keep in mind that you're competing in the acting pool against 100 other companies.
Okay, enough rambling down memory lane. Finish the script, Bill.
This is the first year that I'll be doing a show for the Fringe Festival without having been part of the organization of the Fringe. I started at the Fringe, what, four, five years ago. I remember sitting with Dean Seal (then new Executive Producer and all-around theatre impresario) at the Caribou coffee with a handful of other people, figuring out what the heck we were going to do. I remember trying to put together the venue signs at the Loring Playhouse and finding they had no hammer in their scene shop.
For those who have never been to a Fringe Festival, this is how it works: instead of a review committee that decides which plays are good enough to be seen, you get a bunch of theatre companies, and bunch of venues (which may or may not be actual theatre spaces the rest of the year), and over the course of 10 days (here in Minneapolis, anyway) you get over a hundred different productions.
It's a theatre overdose. And it's absolutely fantastic.
In the course of those ten days, you'll probably see the worst play you've ever seen. And you'll probably see the best play you've ever seen.
I remember watching the "post-modern juggling" of Blink and being utterly dumbfounded that someone could combine existentialism and bowling pins. I remember watching someone do something that seemed like performance art they'd show on Laverne and Shirley, only she was serious. "Wow, people still do that," I thought. The next year I saw a thirty minute play called "Chasing Rabbits" which was absolutely chilling.
Trying to put together a Fringe show is a challenge in and of itself. It has to be less than an hour and be able to get on and offstage in ten minutes. And keep in mind that you're competing in the acting pool against 100 other companies.
Okay, enough rambling down memory lane. Finish the script, Bill.
posted by Bill at
7:48 PM
