Under the ABS challenge system, a team begins each game with two challenges. If a player gets an umpire's call overturned, their team retains the challenge. In effect, this means a team has unlimited challenges until they get two wrong.
I started in stand-up because it felt like the most direct way to connect with people. There's no filter. You go on stage, and you find out very quickly if something works. That shaped everything for me. It forced me to be honest. If you're not honest, the audience knows. That idea still drives how I work today.
The thing is an almost-four-hour-long continuous explosion - actors dancing, grappling, and hurling furniture; the director present onstage ripping pieces out of the set; paint and blood and flowers and feathers everywhere.
I don't want to be working in ballet or opera things where it's like 'Hey, keep this thing alive,' even though it's like no one cares about this anymore. All respect to the ballet and opera people out there.
To deny one's own experiences is to put a lie into the lips of one's own life. It is no less than a denial of the soul. The concept I stick to - my core principle - is simple: I write in plain English, and only when I actually have something to say.
We decided this could be an opportunity to design something specifically for those theatergoers, and maybe many others who may have been reluctant to attend on their own. This is not 'singles night.' If a meaningful connection happens, that's a bonus. But at the end of the day, it's really about being comfortable going solo to a show and enjoying it with people who have that same experience.
In a dimly lit, dusty church basement, eight people meet and place their cellphones into a wooden box. Each member of the octet struggles with a dependency upon the very tool that enables us all to enjoy a level of historically unprecedented convenience - the internet. Like the characters, audiences are called to unplug and immerse themselves in the world of Studio Theatre's production of Dave Malloy's unique a capella musical, Octet.
Lucy Liu knew the instant she watched Lawrence Shou's open-call audition video that the neophyte East Bay actor would be the perfect choice to portray her troubled cinematic son in the wrenching Rosemead, inspired by a real-life Southern California tragedy. The 23-year-old Shou, a lifelong Fremont resident, won out over hundreds of others eager to play 17-year-old Joe, a troubled San Gabriel Valley area high school student with schizophrenia whose distraught mom Irene (Liu, in a transformative performance) is dying of cancer.
The short version: Hannah was married to Andrew, and Anna was married to Ryan. Then Anna and Andrew slept together and both marriages blew up. Then, six years after that, just as Andrew was finishing the manuscript of a novel closely paralleling his breakup, he found out that Hannah had beat him to the punch: Her book about a marriage-destroying affair (subtitled "A Memoir [kind of]") would be published nine months before his.
Worries, fears, hang-ups, and desires are translated through highly skilled puppetry, as interview scenes cast puppet couples talking about their sex lives. Written by Mark Down of Blind Summit, a cohort of exceptional makers and puppeteers expanding the definition of a puppet, this collaboration with the UK's National Survey of Sexual Attitudes and Lifestyles pulls from real-life conversations to get puppets talking dirty.
We've seen Robert Icke's Oedipus as a political thriller on Broadway last fall, Shayok Misha Chowdhury's revival of the choral Gospel at Colonus at Little Island in the summer (if you missed that, I recommend a tape of the 1985 production on YouTube), and now, Alexander Zeldin's The Other Place at the Shed, a version of Antigone turned into a bourgeois family drama.
When a stranger smiles at you, you smile back. That is why, when Sir Ian McKellen ( The Lord of the Rings, X-Men, Amadeus) walked on the stage in front of me, looked me straight in the eye, and smiled at me, I smiled back. It was the polite thing to do. It was also completely unnecessary, because McKellen was not actually on the stage in front of me. He smiled at me through a pair of special glasses.