Acting Citizen:Assessing What Went Wrong…and Right

By James Knudsen

Now that “The One-Act Play That Goes Wrong” has concluded, I would probably benefit from some assessment of what went right … and wrong.
    Topping the list of what went right was selecting this play. As a department we are still finding our feet following a pandemic-induced hiatus. My production was the first on the mainstage since March 2020, when “The Humans,” directed by Chuck Erven, and featuring yours truly, ran for two weeks just as the pandemic enveloped the world.
    Students are once again roaming the halls, and lounging in the “Green Room,” but they are a new group. They are learning who we are, and at this stage we are learning who they are and what they are capable of.
    Adding to the already unusual circumstances was the building and its relative middle-age. The heating, ventilation, and air-conditioning system has in recent years relegated the Studio Theatre to something akin to a meat-locker with frigid air being pumped into it at such force that an arctic howl is heard as you close the door. Next month a new system will be installed closing down much of the theatre building until July.
    The usual schedule of one show in the Studio Theatre, followed by a break of two weeks after the final performance, had to be shelved. The compressed schedule went something like this:

“The Brothers Grimm Spectaculathon,” opened in the Studio on March 3, performing four times in two days, with two different casts, and continues as a touring production performing at area schools through April.
   “The One-Act Play That Goes Wrong” went through its “Tech Sunday” on March 5 and opened five days later.

    Three of the cast members were also in the “…Spectaculathon,” and the technical faculty staff are involved in all shows, making for a non-stop two-week slog for much of the department, beginning on February 26 and not ending until the end of the first weekend of “…Goes Wrong,” on March 12.
    Choosing the one-act version meant a set with less complexity that could be assembled within the time frame available. Play choice: went right.

The next step was casting. And once again I’ll give myself passing marks for putting the right people in the right roles. Turnout to auditions skewed heavily toward female actors. The show has two female roles and six male roles. My cast for the eight speaking roles comprised four men and four women. Two non-speaking roles were added and filled by actors both of whom use the pronoun “he.”

    I’ll also take credit for trying to create as much visual contrast among the actors as possible. Tall and short together is a comedy standby, and casting choices, when other factors were negligible, came down to who would bring the greatest visual contrast to the stage.

    Aiding this was my costume designer, Rich Fine, and my request that tall actors wear heels, and short actors wear flats. Rich quickly grasped my willingness to embrace the zany and his costumes reflected this with their bright colors and loud accessories. Rhinestone buttons the size of playing cards graced the leading lady’s coat, and were a perfect complement to her wide-eyed characterization that one professor of theatre compared to silent film star Lillian Gish.

    Against a sedate set design, these costumes may have seemed garish. Designer Christina McCollam-Martinez’s 1920s-themed set, in a bright green livery, was toned down by the carnival-hued costumes. And technical director Johnny Cano made the set “malfunction” cues consistent and seamless.
    With all of these positives, the show wound up being a hit with the audiences. Prior to opening night the cast had never performed in front of a large enough audience to have a sense of which comedic bits were playing successfully. As the last audience members to arrive on opening night took their seats, I waited with crossed fingers to see, and hopefully hear, the response of a crowd enjoying comedy on stage. The efforts of the cast and crew were rewarded that night with a raucous evening of laughs and applause that confirmed to us, “we have a show.”

Of course, not everything works, and I learned that what seems funny in one’s head doesn’t always translate to laughs. Even when the set designer provides a three-foot-long foam sledge hammer. And a true “cherry on top” bit, a chandelier that drops several inches as its lights flicker out to the sound of arcing wires and a giant light bulb popping, never got the laughs it deserved.
    And the biggest disappointment was the lack of people in the seats. Our audience numbers stayed in the 50 – 60 range, which is fine for some of the Los Angeles venues I performed in during the 2000s. But our main stage accommodates over 300, and “…Goes Wrong” is a different, better show with a large audience. This was proved on the final performance, a Sunday matinee of almost 150. And this despite Herculean efforts at promotion.

    If any artists are creating theatre near you, give them your time, money, encouragement, old furniture – it may be argued that we owe our civilizing and civilization to theatre.

Copyright © 2023 by James Knudsen