Chaos, and Other Worldly Possessions - a play
"I really want to tell people to see this play. How do I describe it?"
-- Real, live audience member
"It's a gorgeous shit storm of a play."
-- Manny Igrejas, playwright (Margarita and Max)
-- Manny Igrejas, playwright (Margarita and Max)
Production stills from Chaos, aOWP!
All photos in this slideshow are by Krista Fogle (thank you, Krista)
"Thank you, Truant Arts, for your mad experimentations."
- Amanda LaPergola (Theatre Is Easy)
A very little about the play ...SynopsisSeven people on a stalled subway fall into a sort of grotesque Our Town on acid as it is slammed by a The Divine Comedy tornado. What survives is a black, mangled hipster delusion and, hopefully, satori.
"Brilliantly acted" The characters:
Dante is a foul-mouthed, disgusting excuse for a human being after 800 years trapped in the purgatory he popularized. He has become a mad man/prophet. Conductor is the voice of the G train as the voice of the G train wishes it could sound. Shayna is a well-kempt Upper East Sider who needs to learn to care in order to escape the wreckage. Jane is a farm girl with big city dreams and an anxiety disorder. Cassandra is a quirky idealist with a heart of gold and a full bladder. Helyn is a compulsive sketch artist. Sarah is just plain old pissed off. "They had it! "Highly enjoyable" "Awesome!" "Awesome!" We hear it over and over again. - Mgt.
|
"That was so great. It was like as acid trip." -- someone Rachael doesn't know
Random snaps of the chaos |
"It felt like I was stuck with the Manson family in a Beckett-run subway car. Add to that ... a little Bob Fosse and the Valley of the Dolls and it was great evening."
An interview with the playwright
R. Arson Teague wrote the full-length play, "The Play with No Name: Or Fuck I Hate Titles"* for Chaos Under Construction after meeting with director Amy Surratt and actors Cassandra Andrus, Jody Christopherson, Christopher Lazariuk, Helyn Rain Messenger, Jane O'Hara, Sarah Schoofs and Shayna Strype for two hours on a brisk March Saturday.
He's agreed to answer a few questions for us.
Truant: First, R. Arson Teague? Seriously? What the hell is that all about?
Bob: A couple of things. My grandfather told me when I was six or seven that I should be a writer because R. Arson Teague is a great writer name. I became a writer but I didn't use R. Arson Teague, because, frankly, it is pretentious as hell. I went by Bob and that was great. Easy to spell. Easy to fit on a name tag at writer-type events.
But I got an email one day when I was a columnist for a little newspaper in the Deep South. This woman was thrilled to finally get in touch with me ... this was at the beginning of the internet age ... she told me I changed her life. The gushing went on for about half a page and then she said "the way you broke down barriers inspired me."
Um? Huh? About the only barrier I've ever broken was a police line on 6th Avenue when I was trying to escape the Halloween parade in Greenwich Village the way a cat will go anywhere and do anything when it is freaked out.
But I knew what happened. This woman had done a web search for "Bob Teague writer" and my name came up at the top of the list because I was writing regularly. Unfortunately for her, the Bob Teague she was looking for was one of the first black TV journalists. That Bob Teague wrote "The Flip Side of Soul" and "Letters to a Black Boy." I had to let her down gently ... explaining that I had no soul so I couldn't have a flip side of it and that if I wrote letters to a black boy I could have been arrested.
I decided that I should change my official writer name to avoid such, but the newspaper wouldn't let me because I'd already branded Bob Teague in my market. When I dumped my evil corporate overlords, I took back my right to call myself whatever I pleased.
You got a problem with that?
Truant: Not at all. In fact, I care so little I got about four paragraphs more answer than I wanted.
Bob: That's what happens when you ask a writer a question.
Truant: Let's move on and talk about Chaos Under Construction.
Bob: I've got another funny story about the other Bob Teague and my racist grandmother. Do you want to hear it?
Truant: Let's move on.
Bob: You sure?
Truant: (heavy sigh) What was your process as you worked on .. what is the title of this play anyway?
Bob: I don't know yet. I hate titles.
Truant: Do you plan to have one by the time the production opens?
Bob: Oh, I'll have something.
Truant: Great.
Bob: Thanks.
Truant: Back on topic. What was your process as you worked on whatever you are calling this play.
Bob: In detail?
Truant: No. Just do the broad strokes. We want people to be able to get back to their lives.
Bob: We met. We played. It was fun. I went away. Some of the actors emailed me stories about random meetings they'd had. I rolled around in my head all the information about who the actors were and the stories they told and the way they interacted during the improvisations. I thought. I thought some more. I thought some more after that. I came up with a dozen ideas. I threw them all away. I came up with a baker's dozen ideas and kept the last one.
It solved most of the problems presented by the process.
Truant: Problems?
Bob: Sure. The cast was heavily weighted female (6 to 1) because of who showed up to play that first day, which tossed away traditional stories of love and betrayal. And as an old guy I didn't feel I could really write a "coven" piece with any legitimacy.
It was a larger cast -- with seven actors -- and I wanted to use them all as close to equally as possible because they were so generous with their time.
It had to address young person issues, because everyone but me is in their 20s and besides, that is unfortunately the audience for indie theater.
It had to be funny, at least by my definition, but it also had to eventually mean something because that's what the actors and director wanted.
It had to take place with little to no set for budget reasons. And finally, it had to take place on a subway, because that was the last thing that was said as we walked out the door on the first day.
So the last idea I had solved a bunch of the problems.
Truant: Can you give a brief idea of what whatever the hell it is called is about?
Bob: Short answer? It is about angst -- specifically about millennial angst, which isn't all that different than greatest generation angst or boomer angst or Gen X angst, but because the actors are all millennials it is about millennial angst.
Slightly longer answer? It is about getting trapped on a stalled subway car after a shitty night at a party where you had hoped something great was going to happen, but something great didn't happen and it is 4 a.m. and all you want to do is be home with your cat in your crowded little room whining about how shitty a night it was to your friends on a social networking site.
It is about the fact that you will never get out of that subway car because it isn't ever going to move again and besides even if it did, what difference does it make? Your life is still gonna be shitty because it is your shitty life and you aren't changing anything.
Truant: So, it's a comedy then?
Bob: I think so. Or it will be if people laugh.
Truant: Just one last ques--
Bob: Oh! It's also a cage match between Western and Eastern thought.
Truant: Ok...
Bob: So it would mean something and be artsy.
Truant: Ok...
Bob: That's apparently important in theater stuff.
Truant: Sure.
Bob: But mostly it is about how much everything is shitty ... and how sometimes you really have to pee, but can't.
Truant: ...
Bob: That's a lot for under $20 a ticket, right?
Truant: ...
Bob: More bang for the buck, yo!
Truant: Yes.
Bob: Yo!
Truant: One last question.
Bob: You had a list, didn't you?
Truant: Sure.
Bob: And damn it, you are going to ask all the questions on your list, right?
Truant: ...
Bob: Come hell or high water.
Truant: What was the biggest/most surprising/most useful thing that’s come out of this process?
Bob: That's really three questions. Fortunately, I'm a concise guy -- do not mouth "bullshit" because I can feel you do it - I am a concise guy and I can boil it down.
I was surprised by the speed with which the play went from idea to something I'm proud of.
I'm surprised at the way having the actors and director in the process from the beginning actually changed the way my brain worked. I never would have gone where "whatever the hell this is called" went without the challenges and the feedback from the team.
Having someone in your corner telling you that whilst your draft sucks eggs, the idea is solid and there is more "not sucking" than "actively sucking" going on is hugely valuable to a writer. And having them toss ideas into the mix, well ... wow.
Basically the answer to your questions is that the process was the biggest/most surprising and most useful thing to come out of the process. From start to finish, stem to stern, tip to top, alpha to omega, here to etern--
Truant: We get it.
Bob: Can I go now?
Truant: Sure. And thanks for your time.
Bob: No problem. You wouldn't happen to have a spare smoke would you?
END
* Since this interview, R.A.T. figured out a title. Here's the addendum he sent us.
"The title is Chaos, and Other Worldly Possessions. This is a perfect example of that question you asked -- the good one, not that piece of crap about my name. The title actually came from Kristy Caldwell, the woman who is designing our poster.
I don't know how she came up with it, but she used it as a dummy title for the poster mock up and when Amy, my director, and I saw it we both sorta said, "Well, that solves that."
Actually, that's what Amy said. I said something that started with "Fuck me running" and ended with "Sweet baby Jesus." I don't want to get into more detail because I don't want to offend anyone.
Kristy is an illustrator (and a damn good one), which means she draws stuff, but she wrote the perfect title and I'm not giving it back. Also, as she was working on the illustration for the poster, she found something in the text that I'd only hinted at almost accidentally. But, when I saw the art, it screamed "Hey, Bob, you need more of this!" so I did a rewrite to incorporate what Kristy had seen.
This is an example of the power of collaboration and it is what I found to be so great about the process."
He's agreed to answer a few questions for us.
Truant: First, R. Arson Teague? Seriously? What the hell is that all about?
Bob: A couple of things. My grandfather told me when I was six or seven that I should be a writer because R. Arson Teague is a great writer name. I became a writer but I didn't use R. Arson Teague, because, frankly, it is pretentious as hell. I went by Bob and that was great. Easy to spell. Easy to fit on a name tag at writer-type events.
But I got an email one day when I was a columnist for a little newspaper in the Deep South. This woman was thrilled to finally get in touch with me ... this was at the beginning of the internet age ... she told me I changed her life. The gushing went on for about half a page and then she said "the way you broke down barriers inspired me."
Um? Huh? About the only barrier I've ever broken was a police line on 6th Avenue when I was trying to escape the Halloween parade in Greenwich Village the way a cat will go anywhere and do anything when it is freaked out.
But I knew what happened. This woman had done a web search for "Bob Teague writer" and my name came up at the top of the list because I was writing regularly. Unfortunately for her, the Bob Teague she was looking for was one of the first black TV journalists. That Bob Teague wrote "The Flip Side of Soul" and "Letters to a Black Boy." I had to let her down gently ... explaining that I had no soul so I couldn't have a flip side of it and that if I wrote letters to a black boy I could have been arrested.
I decided that I should change my official writer name to avoid such, but the newspaper wouldn't let me because I'd already branded Bob Teague in my market. When I dumped my evil corporate overlords, I took back my right to call myself whatever I pleased.
You got a problem with that?
Truant: Not at all. In fact, I care so little I got about four paragraphs more answer than I wanted.
Bob: That's what happens when you ask a writer a question.
Truant: Let's move on and talk about Chaos Under Construction.
Bob: I've got another funny story about the other Bob Teague and my racist grandmother. Do you want to hear it?
Truant: Let's move on.
Bob: You sure?
Truant: (heavy sigh) What was your process as you worked on .. what is the title of this play anyway?
Bob: I don't know yet. I hate titles.
Truant: Do you plan to have one by the time the production opens?
Bob: Oh, I'll have something.
Truant: Great.
Bob: Thanks.
Truant: Back on topic. What was your process as you worked on whatever you are calling this play.
Bob: In detail?
Truant: No. Just do the broad strokes. We want people to be able to get back to their lives.
Bob: We met. We played. It was fun. I went away. Some of the actors emailed me stories about random meetings they'd had. I rolled around in my head all the information about who the actors were and the stories they told and the way they interacted during the improvisations. I thought. I thought some more. I thought some more after that. I came up with a dozen ideas. I threw them all away. I came up with a baker's dozen ideas and kept the last one.
It solved most of the problems presented by the process.
Truant: Problems?
Bob: Sure. The cast was heavily weighted female (6 to 1) because of who showed up to play that first day, which tossed away traditional stories of love and betrayal. And as an old guy I didn't feel I could really write a "coven" piece with any legitimacy.
It was a larger cast -- with seven actors -- and I wanted to use them all as close to equally as possible because they were so generous with their time.
It had to address young person issues, because everyone but me is in their 20s and besides, that is unfortunately the audience for indie theater.
It had to be funny, at least by my definition, but it also had to eventually mean something because that's what the actors and director wanted.
It had to take place with little to no set for budget reasons. And finally, it had to take place on a subway, because that was the last thing that was said as we walked out the door on the first day.
So the last idea I had solved a bunch of the problems.
Truant: Can you give a brief idea of what whatever the hell it is called is about?
Bob: Short answer? It is about angst -- specifically about millennial angst, which isn't all that different than greatest generation angst or boomer angst or Gen X angst, but because the actors are all millennials it is about millennial angst.
Slightly longer answer? It is about getting trapped on a stalled subway car after a shitty night at a party where you had hoped something great was going to happen, but something great didn't happen and it is 4 a.m. and all you want to do is be home with your cat in your crowded little room whining about how shitty a night it was to your friends on a social networking site.
It is about the fact that you will never get out of that subway car because it isn't ever going to move again and besides even if it did, what difference does it make? Your life is still gonna be shitty because it is your shitty life and you aren't changing anything.
Truant: So, it's a comedy then?
Bob: I think so. Or it will be if people laugh.
Truant: Just one last ques--
Bob: Oh! It's also a cage match between Western and Eastern thought.
Truant: Ok...
Bob: So it would mean something and be artsy.
Truant: Ok...
Bob: That's apparently important in theater stuff.
Truant: Sure.
Bob: But mostly it is about how much everything is shitty ... and how sometimes you really have to pee, but can't.
Truant: ...
Bob: That's a lot for under $20 a ticket, right?
Truant: ...
Bob: More bang for the buck, yo!
Truant: Yes.
Bob: Yo!
Truant: One last question.
Bob: You had a list, didn't you?
Truant: Sure.
Bob: And damn it, you are going to ask all the questions on your list, right?
Truant: ...
Bob: Come hell or high water.
Truant: What was the biggest/most surprising/most useful thing that’s come out of this process?
Bob: That's really three questions. Fortunately, I'm a concise guy -- do not mouth "bullshit" because I can feel you do it - I am a concise guy and I can boil it down.
I was surprised by the speed with which the play went from idea to something I'm proud of.
I'm surprised at the way having the actors and director in the process from the beginning actually changed the way my brain worked. I never would have gone where "whatever the hell this is called" went without the challenges and the feedback from the team.
Having someone in your corner telling you that whilst your draft sucks eggs, the idea is solid and there is more "not sucking" than "actively sucking" going on is hugely valuable to a writer. And having them toss ideas into the mix, well ... wow.
Basically the answer to your questions is that the process was the biggest/most surprising and most useful thing to come out of the process. From start to finish, stem to stern, tip to top, alpha to omega, here to etern--
Truant: We get it.
Bob: Can I go now?
Truant: Sure. And thanks for your time.
Bob: No problem. You wouldn't happen to have a spare smoke would you?
END
* Since this interview, R.A.T. figured out a title. Here's the addendum he sent us.
"The title is Chaos, and Other Worldly Possessions. This is a perfect example of that question you asked -- the good one, not that piece of crap about my name. The title actually came from Kristy Caldwell, the woman who is designing our poster.
I don't know how she came up with it, but she used it as a dummy title for the poster mock up and when Amy, my director, and I saw it we both sorta said, "Well, that solves that."
Actually, that's what Amy said. I said something that started with "Fuck me running" and ended with "Sweet baby Jesus." I don't want to get into more detail because I don't want to offend anyone.
Kristy is an illustrator (and a damn good one), which means she draws stuff, but she wrote the perfect title and I'm not giving it back. Also, as she was working on the illustration for the poster, she found something in the text that I'd only hinted at almost accidentally. But, when I saw the art, it screamed "Hey, Bob, you need more of this!" so I did a rewrite to incorporate what Kristy had seen.
This is an example of the power of collaboration and it is what I found to be so great about the process."