In the article, she compares the politician’s actions to that of somebody who sees a drowning child.  “We all know what the difference between taking action and being caught trying looks like. If you saw a child drowning, your first thought wouldn’t be, ‘I probably can’t do anything to save him, but the important thing is just to be caught trying.’ No, you’d take action and dive in.”

This cuts to the very core of what it means to be a Performer.  “Performer, with a capital letter,” writes Jerzy Grotowski, “is a man of action.  He is not somebody who plays another.  He is a doer…”

As with the drowning child, action requires heroism.

Being a director, I encounter actors who try to stall “doing” by talk.  It isn’t because of an inability to do, instead it’s related to fear.  Fear of not being able to do.  Fear of making a mistake.  Fear of our own limitations.  Fear of judgment.  Fear of ridicule.  Fear of rejection.

***

Renowned mythologist Michael Meade believes the ego is born when “the soul, in the fullness of itself, can’t be seen for what it is– its essence.”  Though it takes many forms, it is often experienced as a moment of, usually unintentional, rejection between a parent and child.  Ego, a block, is formed to protect the wound.

The moment takes place while we are too young to remember.  However, subconsciously we remember the terror we felt and rejection becomes our biggest fear in the world.

In our training, I ask the actors to explore their innermost impulses.  This is very different from a kind of “group therapy” where a director or teacher forces an actor to relive one of their worst memories in front of others.  To access these impulses and allow them to become concurrent with action (doing) requires eradicating many layers of blocks– both physical (beginning with those ingrained by society) and psychic (mental).

Removing psychic blocks is a delicate process for the actor.  The wrong word at the wrong moment can result in a closing instead of an opening.  Each layer that is stripped away leaves the actor vulnerable to experiencing the same rejection that created the block.  This prospect creates a crisis for the actor.

Yoshi Oida, a highly regarded actor who works with Peter Brooks, speaks about crisis in his book An Actor’s Tricks:  “It seems that we have more possibilities than we realize.  Usually, when we perform, we stay within our normal consciousness and understanding.  We do what we know we can do.  Yet when we find ourselves in a state of panic or confusion a power we are unaware of sometimes emerges.”

Training in the Suzuki Method with SITI Company, I was taught to plunge headfirst into the moments of crisis.  These moments are when I learn the most about myself and the moments the audience find most intriguing.

When an actor frees his impulses enough to make a “total gift,” completely exposing the being behind his life-mask and puts himself in crisis by risking not being accepted by the audience, according to Grotowski, “The spectator understands, consciously or unconsciously, that such an act is an invitation to him to do the same thing, and this often arouses opposition or indignation, because our daily efforts are intended to hide the truth about ourselves not only from the world, but also from ourselves.  We try to escape the truth about ourselves, where here we are invited to stop and take a closer look.  We are afraid of being changed into pillars of salt if we turn around, like Lot’s wife.”

***

Finally on their feet, the actors again avoid the risk of doing.  Instead, they “act” and hope to be to be caught trying.

But the difference is as clear as diving into the water.

-Benjamin Rexroad
Managing Artistic Director

Host Benjamin Rexroad
interviews Wendy Duke
director of
Miller South’s Commedia Troupe

Click to go to the HUAR page and listen.

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Host Benjamin Rexroad
interviews Cat Kenney
writer for
Chaos Theory

Click to go to the HUAR page and listen.

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Search “Heads Up Arts Radio” in the itunes store to subscribe.

Host Benjamin Rexroad
interviews Melissa Barber
writer/actress for
Divorcing Batman, Dating all of Gotham City

Click to go to the HUAR page and listen.

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Before I explain those divergent trains, a background of the play is necessary. The Bluest Eye is adapted from Noble Prize-winning author Toni Morrison’s novel of the same name.  The story centers on young Pecola Breedlove, a black girl living in Ohio in the years immediately following the Great Depression. Pecola yearns to have blue eyes, like little white girls. Throughout the story she faces racism, incest and child molestation and, consequently, the book is banned from schools and libraries across the country.

Needless to say, this play isn’t for the faint of heart.

During curtain call of 'The Bluest Eye'

Although I’ve never encountered Toni Morrison beyond the mandatory reading of Sula during my junior year of high school, I felt this production was soft-shoeing around the grittiness of the reality of being poor, black, and living during the 1940s. (Not to mention incest and child molestation.)  I remember having a gut-wrenching reaction to Sula. I walked out of this production saying, “that’s too bad” but otherwise being unmoved.

For this, I feel the responsibility lies mostly with the script.  Lydia R. Diamond, the woman who adapted the novel for the stage, did just that– adapt a novel for the stage. The play had the dynamics of a book on tape. Fortunately for her, she picked a majestic/compelling/insert-positive-adjective-here piece of literature.  Morrison’s lyrical poetry was ever-present throughout the play. Many of my “reviewer” notes included quotes, which turned out to be appropriated from the novel.

After doing research to write this review, Diamond could have picked better events from the story to ensure the play had the emotional impact of the novel.  Or– and I don’t say this often– I would have gladly sat through something longer than the 90-minute one act that was The Bluest Eye.

I left wanting more.

Which brings me back to the divergent thoughts. Seeing the play, I felt I had enough of an understanding of the book that I didn’t need to read it. On the flip side, I wanted to devour everything Toni Morrison has ever written.

The actors deftly handled Morrison’s poetry; it flowed from their lips as natural as everyday speech and infinitely more beautiful.  Their talents turned a lackluster script into an enjoyable evening of theatre. This group of actors was a well-oiled ensemble, whose interactions made the family dynamics and intricate relationships sizzle.  A special mention goes to Andrea Belser, who plays Pecola. Her ability to exude a deep, deep sadness is limitless and made me want to run onstage and carry her far away from the pain.

Belser, center, is able to exude a super-human sadness

Karamu made a wonderful decision putting The Bluest Eye in their black box theatre. The intimate space– which couldn’t fit more than 50 people– places you in direct confrontation with the characters and their terrible situations.  The only problem is that more audience members won’t get to experience this engaging production.

The show continues Feb. 10-26.  Thursdays-Saturdays at 8 pm and Sundays at 3 pm. Several performances are already SOLD OUT. Tickets range from $16 for students to $25 full price.  Visit Karamu House for more information.

-Benjamin Rexroad
Managing Artistic Director

Host Benjamin Rexroad
interviews Deborah Magid
guest artist in Cleveland Public Theatre’s Big Box Series.

Click to go to the HUAR page and listen.

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One question we received during our initial staged reading of 1,000 Hills was, “who are the people telling the story?” We lacked a framing device to properly contextualize our script.

Preparing for the reading, my research focused on the genocide itself. Between the Tutsi people and their Hutu accomplices, 800,000 men, women and children were brutally slaughtered over a 100-day period in 1994. (Mostly by machete or other hand-to-hand method.)

During this workshop, my research expanded to the culture of Rwanda. I stumbled across these facts: Though many Rwandans claim Islam or Christianity as their primary form of worship, most still follow some sort of traditional religious practice– from paying devotion to dead ancestors (guterekera) to the belief that objects contain spirits (abazimu).

Kubandwa, a secret cult among the Hutu people, uses imandwa (the ones who are grabbed), to enact a form of ritualized possession. During Kubandwa celebrations, Ryangambe, the most venerated ancestor, “grabs” the initiates and they become his lieutenants. Often, they would enact ritualized scenes as a symbolic protest against Tutsi dominance.

In an earlier draft of 1,000 Hills, the character Fran had a line toward the end of the script, “the day I left Rwanda plays over and over in my mind at least 100 times a year.” Even if characters survived, some experiences are powerful enough to devour the spirit. Reliving these events, the characters admit that, at least part of them, is trapped.

Using these ideas as a launch pad and setting our production in a cabaret (a bar that serves as a center of life for a Rwandan village which was frequently used as meeting place for the Hutu perpetrators of the genocide), we began to re-vision the play.

Searching for answers to help us frame the text, I discovered another question.  What’s worse:  being murdered as part of the genocide or leaving part of your soul behind to relive the events ad infinitum?

-Benjamin Rexroad
Managing Artistic Director

Host Benjamin Rexroad
interviews Lisa Louise Langford and Jennifer Sandoval
guest artists in Cleveland Public Theatre’s Big Box Series.

Click to go to the HUAR page and listen.

We are also on itunes!
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Our production, 1,000 Hills, is no exception.  Written by Akron native India Burton, the play is an hour-long gauntlet of people trying to survive one of the most gruesome events in history– The Rwandan Genocide.  “The first time I heard of the Rwandan Genocide, I was a senior in high school.  I can remember thinking: why is this the first time I’ve ever heard about it?”

Between research, college courses, a part-time job, acting in and directing other productions, it took Burton over a year and a half to write Hills.  Time constraints aside, Burton said the most difficult thing about writing the play was trying to portray each of the different characters and making them human, not caricatures.

Burton, a founding member of Heads Up, wanted to give something to the company and decided to offer her show.  Our innovative company of 20-somethings likes the show because it pushes the envelope, challenges audiences and performers alike and meets our socially conscious mission.

Jozsa, reprising his role as Bronner

The play had a staged reading in October 2010, just 16 years after the events that sparked the show.  Though the 100-day genocide of an estimated 800,000 Tutsi people, an ethnic group in the small east African country, happened within the lifetime of everyone who watched the performance, many echoed Burton’s original sentiment.  As one reviewer wrote, “this story took me well beyond the understanding I’d gained in news releases at the time.”  Jozsa was quick to point out that, before seeing this play, many people couldn’t even remember the country’s name, confusing it with neighboring Uganda.

The October performance served as a workshop for Hills with Heads Up asking the audience for feedback about the play.  Burton took the criticism and rewrote the play.  “I understand these characters a lot more.  I was 22 when I started writing the play and I’m 24 now.  A lot of things are evolving; these characters have evolved.”

The initial production of Hills was such success, we felt the need to mount the retooled version of the script.  This time we wanted to reach a bigger audience, so we applied for Cleveland Public Theatre’s Big Box Series.

According to their website, CPT is “one of the nation’s leading experimental and political performance venues.”  With programs such as Big Box, the theatre continues to be an incubator for some of Northeast Ohio’s top artistic talent, including New World Performance Laboratory, GroundWorks DanceTheater and, this January, Heads Up Productions.

Big [Box] will mark Heads Up’s debut into the larger Cleveland theatre community and a current of excitement can be felt throughout our company.  Jozsa, who will reprise his role as Australian filmmaker Bronner, believes, “1,000 Hills deserves to be at Big Box, not just for the writing but for the performance.  It really is beautiful to watch.  Even under these horrific circumstances.”

The cast of 1,000 Hills

The performance features 9 actors who play a variety of roles, including color, gender and age blind casting.  We did this to challenge the audience’s way of looking at gender and ethnicity– both of which figure prominently in the play.  Punctuated by gripping drumbeats, the play rapidly twists and turns, building to its climax in a way that captures the chaos of a mass extermination of people.

1,000 Hills runs January 19 to January 21 at 7:00 pm at Cleveland Public Theatre.  Heads Up shares a double bill with Mamai Theatre Company’s To The Sea… Both performances run 1 hour.  Tickets are $10 on Thursday and $15 on Friday/Saturday with free beer and wine after the performance on Friday. Ticket are available at www.cptonline.org or by phone at 216.631.2727.

***

Visit our Heads Up Arts Radio page to find an extended interview with playwright India Burton!

-Benjamin Rexroad
Managing Artistic Director

In the internet age, Keith Malley and Chemda Khalili skyrocketed to www. stardom by producing a 5-day a week comedy talk show.  KATG, as it’s known among fans, features guests from the New York comedy scene as the hosts lampoon the daily news, pop culture and taboo subjects like racism.

When I first downloaded the show, I was confused by their “comedy” moniker.  To me, KATG was centered around a hyper-masculine white guy who went on insane rants that deeply offended my sensibilities.  (Episodes entitled Reading is for Faggots, Keith and the Sand Nigger, and Titties for God confirm that the podcast is not for the faint of heart.)  I kept listening for a couple of reasons:  1.)  the show was so offensive that I had to be missing something, 2.) though Keith might have been asshole, The Girl seemed to make sense and 3.) the Thursday gossip queen, Patrice, was so funny that I shit a brick.

After about a month of listening, things started to make sense.  The show is a searing satire of our cultural climate.  Keith is an asshole, but a funny one.  And neither holds anything back.

Many fans enjoy the show because of the “NO HOLDS BARRED/TAKE NO PRISONERS” attitude.  In fact, the self-named “KATG Klan” have helped the comedy duo win multiple honors, including “People’s Choice” and “Best Mature Podcast” at the Podcast Awards and a Swedish prize that has more consonants than the million plus downloads a month the show receives.

The one-time serioso couple, a word Keith and Chemda created to describe a long-term relationship stronger than boyfriend-girlfriend but not quite a marriage, have been through a lot since creating the show– much of it on air.  They have fought, shared intimate details of their lives and even lost friends while we’ve listened and picked it apart on the popular KATG forums.

The biggest shock came in 2010 when the co-hosts announced that they were broken up, had been so for over a year and, what’s more, Chemda was dating a woman.  I was unloading the dishwasher when I heard the announcement.  I had to pause my iPod and leave the silverware untouched in its tray.  My hands grasped the counter to steady myself.

As much as other people rely on music, I have Keith and Chemda’s voice playing from my earbuds.  I came to age with and through their show.  KATG played a huge part in my transition from boy to man.  (Though, as Keith says, you don’t really become a grown up until 25, so I’m still not quite there.)  In the absence of a father, Keith dispensed of such fatherly as advice as:  if your customers are excessively rude, it is okay to give them a free milkshake.  And it’s equally okay to shit in it.

After a few seconds/minutes/hours of stunned silence, I pushed play and their voices resumed.  The reason, it turns out, for their deception was a clause in a contract they had signed for their book, What Do We Do Now?   Smart Answers to your Stupid Relationship Questions.  (Which they are currently recording as an audio book.)  They had to stay together for at least a year after the book came out, otherwise they would be taken to court.  Only a select number of people, countable on one hand, knew what happened.   After 18 months, Keith and Chemda were able to start a new chapter of their lives.

And that new chapter involves KATG VIP, a subscription-only section of their website that gives members full access into the Keith and the Girl world.  According to the site subscribers receive “every KATG in-studio episode ever created” (the 10 most recent are available for free) “constantly updated material including the What’s My Name show” (Chemda’s weekly podcast) and downloadable versions of “exclusive bonus content such as KATGtv.”   Subscriptions range from $11 to $15 a month.

All information regarding Keith and the Girl can be found at www.keithandthegirl.com.

-Benjamin Rexroad
Managing Artistic Director