reflections from week one: rhythm, language and camaraderie

as is the case with communication of any sort (electronic or otherwise), it is polite to begin with an introduction.

i go by the name and answer to the call of tyler james greene. i’m a recent graduate of kalamazoo college, in sunny kalamazoo, michigan. yes, friends, there really is a kalamazoo and it doesn’t live only in the mind of frank sinatra. after graduating from “the zoo,” unlike my colleagues, i could rest easy at night. i knew where i was going for the next nine months and it was due largely to the education i received at k-college. there is a reason the song isn’t called, “what do you do with a b.a. in theatre?” i already had the answer: work with one of the finest regional theatre in the country as a directing resident.

before i divulge all the intimate secrets housed within the walls of rehearsal hall b and “prayer for my enemy,” you should also know:

i don’t believe in capitalization and i enjoy looking at joseph gordon levitt.

***

it’s day one of my residency and eric tells me there’s a chance i might get to observe bart sher in rehearsals. this is for craig lucas’ new play, “prayer for my enemy,” which was commissioned by the long wharf theatre and premiered last month in seattle. i slap myself seven times at eric’s invitation and respond with a respectful nod of affirmation. days later, i’m introduced to mister sher with the warning that, at some point in the course of this process, things could get heated. this is the first thing i find out: the company is fond of impassioned discussion, never bereft of intellectual weight or focus for that matter. it is a fine mix of brutality and camaraderie, a mix that works for this particular moment in time.

after one week of observation, i’ve come to realize that language and rhythm are two of the most vital components of the theatrical event. it is through language that characters are brought to action or inaction. it is through a manipulation of language that actors are able to do their job. and it is through communication (the playing with language) that a director comes to terms with the text and the collective genius in a rehearsal room. bart sher knows language and, even more, he knows how to manipulate it for the sake of the play. in other words, he knows how to communicate in the moment to each individual actor - these methods of communication meld and mold based on personality, type of training and the moment. he is a master of finding the right words.

once he discovers those words, it becomes a question of rhythm. how does this moment (which is now understood by both actor and director) play on a stage? mr. sher is also a musician. his scene shifts are calculated with a dancer’s rhythm, the specificity of a marching band battalion. a scene shift which could otherwise be lifeless and transitory finds it’s way into the play itself. and when it comes time to stage the scenes themselves, it is only by looking into bart’s eyes that you realize the importance of rhythm. he is inside the play and the two are having an intimate conversation, figuring things out for each other.

***

at a moment when our world is faced with catastrophic circumstances, it is appropriate to zoom in on the microscopic and intimately examine our domestic instability. this play does that and so much more. the challenge in the coming weeks will be to adjust this work for a smaller space, to zoom in that directorial microscope in order to enhance the experience for a significantly smaller audience. it is my understanding that the stage in seattle was significantly larger with much different acoustics. bart and the company have been addressing this concern and, to be honest, i cannot wait for you to see the results. it’s like being trapped inside a diorama attached to a ticking time bomb.

the rhythm ticking tightly, ignited by the fury of language.