Center Theatre Group Blog

Mike Sablone is CTG’s Literary Associate, starting left fielder and third-string shortstop for Dark Monday, the CTG softball team.

We start, Saturday morning, with 6 brand new plays by 6 playwrights. We then pack ten incredibly talented actors into a room and ask them to take part in cold readings of all 6 over the next 2 days. Sound thrilling?

If you said yes, let me tell you more. Each year Resident Dramaturg/Literary Manager Pier Carlo Talenti and I coordinate CTG’s Writers’ Workshop. We ask 6 to 9 local playwrights and tell them that we’d like to give them space and support to work on a new play over the next 9 months.

The first step is a weekend Salon. Each playwright decides on a topic she’d like to write about. She then interviews 2 experts on that topic, in an attempt just to get the creative juices flowing. By the end of the weekend our brains are stuffed.

From there we meet once a month and listen to scenes from 3 of the playwrights. Then we spend a few minutes giving feedback and answering questions the writer might have about her pages.

Six or so months later, Bonnie Grisan, our Associate Casting Director, gathers together a company of actors to read the scripts over the weekend-no matter where they are in the process. There is no rehearsal, no director.

And it’s one of the most thrilling weekends of the year. The scope of the new work is impressive–the actors are making fearless choices, speaking languages they don’t normally speak, playing across gender, across race, singing songs that haven’t been written yet, and in general finding the heart at the center of each piece.

For anyone who thinks that new work isn’t being supported in Los Angeles, I have terrible news for you. You are completely wrong. Watching these plays over the weekend is just the tip of the iceberg. It’s enlightening to see just how much work is being written. And it’s a shame to just use the word “work.” No one is saying it isn’t difficult, but it’s more than that. More importantly, it’s art. And the breadth of it is inspiring.

I’d like to personally recognize our 6 writers that I had the privilege of working with over the last nine months. These are incredible artists and incredible people. May you all have the pleasure of working with them very soon.

Mickey Birnbaum
Michael John Garces
Donald Jolly
Evangeline Ordaz
Matt Pelfrey
Adriana Sevan

Mike Sablone is CTG’s Literary Associate, starting left fielder and third-string shortstop for Dark Monday, the CTG softball team.

I was an absurdly lucky kid who got to go to Disney World a lot growing up. My grandfather, many, many, many years ago, won the lottery. And one of the gifts he gave to my family was yearly plane tickets to visit them in Florida, where they would hibernate for the winter. So every year my sister, brother and I would get a free trip. Because of this my parents would treat us to Disney World each year, a phenomenal gift.

I’ve lived in Southern California for three and a half years now, and have never felt the urge to go to Disneyland. But recently a friend said that a group of people were going so I asked if I could tag along to see the park through (somewhat) adult eyes.

Crucial bit of information you need to know about me: I am a complete wimp. I hate scary movies. I hate fast roller coasters. I’m not a huge fan of heights. Which makes Disneyland the best place for me to go, since there are plenty of rides for people like me.

So I spent the day exploring the storybook rides. You know, the ones that tell the old stories you know so well, like Winnie-the-Pooh, Snow White, Pinocchio, and Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride.

Here’s the thing. I’ve been on these rides before. I’ve seen these movies, read these books. Not in a long time, mind you, but I think I remember most of these stories.

At least I thought I did. Because each time the safety bar came up at the end of the ride, I was scratching my head.

I had no bloody idea what story they were telling.

Seriously. The Snow White ride? Absolutely, positively incomprehensible. As far as I could tell the Snow White ride is about a woman who hangs out with some dwarves and is chased, for no apparent reason, by a woman who may or may not be a hideous witch. What happens to that woman? To either women? To the dwarves? No idea. The ride just ends.

Winnie-the-Pooh? I think it’s Pooh’s birthday. And then, this part is a bit weird but I’m pretty sure they give Pooh some acid or peyote and proceeds to trip through his party. Don’t worry kids, he comes down from it. At least I think he does, in that the last 20 seconds is back to being “real.” With this ride I couldn’t even understand what the characters were saying. The only thing that was clear was Eeyore, which is amazing as he doesn’t speak until the very end when he moans about his gift. Way to leave em wanting more.

So after a 20 something year hiatus, what did I learn upon my return to Disneyland? That the phenomenal storytelling that Walt Disney always relied on is nowhere to be found in his amusement park.

Also, and perhaps more importantly, I learned that I am a terrible, terrible person to take to an amusement park. Seriously, who wants to go to a happy, fun, delightful place with a dork in glasses who, when exiting a ride loudly says: “Can someone please explain the story I was supposed to be following?”

Even the toddlers looked at me with disdain. Serves me right.

Mike Sablone is CTG’s Literary Associate, starting left fielder and third-string shortstop for Dark Monday, the CTG softball team.

So you know how I go on and on and on and on and on and on about how the new plays and musicals we work on are in development, and just because we’ve had the world premiere doesn’t mean that our work is done?

(If the answer is no, punch yourself in the face, and then go along with me. Harsh? Yes! Fair? I think so!)

Two weekends ago I had the distinct pleasure of seeing the second production of a show that is near and dear to my heart.

BLOODY BLOODY ANDREW JACKSON.

When we closed the show here we were thrilled with how the production looked and very happy with where the script was. Happy because we knew which parts were working the way we wanted them to, and which parts weren’t working as well as we wanted them to. By the time the show had closed, Alex Timbers (director, book writer), Michael Friedman (music and lyrics) and I had had numerous conversations about the next draft, cut chunks of the show, rearranged where musical numbers went, and generally were chomping at the bit to get it up again.

Saturday, May 16^th, 2009, I saw the show again at The Public in New York.

And I was blown away. The script is tighter, the jokes funnier, the exposition clearer. It was the show I always knew was there.

I am so incredibly proud of the work that Alex Timbers and Michael Friedman have done on this show. Two of the funniest, smartest, and most talented artists I’ve ever encountered continue to amaze me with this piece.

I’d be lying if I said to you that five minutes after the show ended, still grinning and elated from seeing the show, Alex and I didn’t talk about two or three moments that we still wanted to tweak.

Which is what makes this piece so thrilling. Even when it’s working the way we want it to, there are still small tweaks that we feel can make the show even better.

This show is everything I want theater to be. It’s young, it’s smart, it’s effing hilarious, it uses actual contemporary music to help elevate the story when it needs it, and it’s got a message, but most of all? It’s fun. Theater shouldn’t have to be work. Theater doesn’t have to be boring, bland vegetables all the time. Theater shouldn’t be something young people and kids should dread.

It can be so much more.

It can be BLOODY BLOODY ANDREW JACKSON.

Mike Sablone is CTG’s Literary Associate, starting left fielder and third-string shortstop for Dark Monday, the CTG softball team.

Highlights from my weekend in Kansas City! Missouri! Not Kansas! Like I originally thought! Me = terrible at geography!

Things I did in Kansas City:

- Experienced a snow and ice storm! We started with a nice layer of freezing rain, followed by a few inches of snow, added another layer of freezing rain, then more snow. I was excited about all this as I grew up in New England and haven’t really been around crappy weather for the past three years.

- Went to Oklahoma Joe’s, one of three suggestions from multiple natives for the best barbeque in town. Of course we decided to go during the snowstorm, which helped as there was no line. You know it’s a good restaurant when it’s in a converted gas station (er, at least I hope it’s been converted), and the only other people there are cops. 22 of them. I had not one, but two sandwiches (brisket and smoked turkey) which were pretty frickin awesome.

- Had three days of great script work with Matt Sax (writer, actor), Eric Rosen (writer, director) and Josh Horvath (music producer/sound designer) on VENICE.  (Technically this is the most important, but I’m not going to lie that the snow and brisket were pretty phenomenal.)

- Was introduced by Matt to Charles Hamilton’s track “Windows Media Player,” quite possibly the only thing that I’ve liked that Microsoft has (inadvertently) produced.

The four of us flew back to LA on Sunday to start rehearsals for the workshop on Monday in Culver City.

Luckily I was able to trade in my barbeque obsession for fried chicken. My Oklahoma Joe’s is Honey’s Kettle Fried Chicken in Culver City (the main aim of this post is to get free food. I’m not going to lie.). If only, somehow, we could have barbequed the fried chicken I might have died.

Literally.

Of a heart attack.

I managed to stay alive, and am glad I did, as I didn’t want to miss the work that Matt, Eric, Josh and an incredibly talented cast of ten (I’ll include Matt twice) put into the show. At some point later (uh huh) I’ll explain exactly what a workshop entails, but for now I’ll give this statement: By the end of the three weeks there wasn’t one page that didn’t have a rewrite on it.

As expected, we learned a ton from the audiences we had for our three presentations. We had a day off in-between our second and third presentation and took that time to completely rework the first 40 pages of the piece. We’ve now have a script that’s in really great fighting shape to go along with songs that, I’m not going to lie, were stuck in my head for a solid three weeks, and a clear road ahead for how the piece can get even better.

The main thing that keeps us going is Charles Hamilton and barbequed fried food.*

*Nothing about this statement is true unless person reading it is Charles Hamilton or from Honey’s Kettle or Oklahoma Joe’s.**

**At one point in my life I considered myself a journalist. Really! I worked for a real newspaper and everything. When I write something like this it makes me think of the days when I attempted to have journalistic integrity. I, obviously, gave up on this pretty quickly, including writing an article for my college newspaper entitled “I’ll Give You Journalistic Integrity.” Which was one of my favorite titles, along with “Something Has Sabloned,” which manages to sound dirty but was just a review of Jurassic Park 2.

Mike Sablone is CTG’s Literary Associate, starting left fielder and third-string shortstop for Dark Monday, the CTG softball team.

Note: This blog posting got lost in the blogosphere (another word I hate) and since it is part one of my two part exploration of VENICE, I reprint it here, a few weeks after the fact. Stay tuned for part 2. SERIOUSLY, STAY TUNED.

Two days from now (June 26) I head out to Kansas City.

Why Kansas City you ask?

What’s that? You weren’t asking that?

Huh. Ok then. Well, let’s just say, HYPOTHETICALLY, that you were to ask. I would say “Aww. Thanks for asking! That was so considerate of you! I like it when you allow me to give these blog entries forward momentum! It means a lot!”

Then I’d tell you that I’m going out for the first part of our VENICE workshop. About a year ago, after their run of CLAY ended, Matt Sax and Eric Rosen were commissioned to write a new piece for us, and that is VENICE. It’s a musical loosely based on the characters and themes of OTHELLO using a hip-hop score.

Now. First tangent. Note in my last paragraph that I didn’t use the term “Hip-Hopera.” Or “Hip-Hopsical.” Why? Because these are terrible names. I find them demeaning. And useless. And meaningless. So you will never hear me say them. It’s a musical that just happens to use the varied music stylings of hip-hop, rap and spoken word. I’m sorry that I haven’t given you a cute one-word phrase to capture that. I’m wordy. Deal with it.

Back on topic.

Since Matt and Eric no longer live in the same city (Matt in Brooklyn, Eric in Kansas City), they’re joining forces in KC to take a week to work on the script, which is where I come in. So for a few days I’ll hang out with them, listen to what they’ve got so far, and offer (hopefully) constructive feedback.

I will also pretend I’m a voracious meat eater and kill a few plates of barbeque.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is the most important aspect of dramaturgy.

Mike Sablone is CTG’s Literary Associate, starting left fielder and third-string shortstop for Dark Monday, the CTG softball team.

As one often does, I was getting my hair cut earlier in the week.

Note: I refuse to say “hairs cut” because it sounds ridiculous. What’s odd about that is that I’m usually all about saying things ridiculously if it’s going to mask my inherent stupidity.

Note: This does not count for my particularly New Englandy way of double and even triple negative-ing certain sentences (”That’s never not funny” being a favorite of mine.)

So, again, as one often does, one is engaged in conversation with one’s barber.

Note: I’m not a big fan of talking to my barber. I prefer to zone out and think about what it would be like if I shaved my head or had them buzz a hilariously inappropriate symbol or letters into my hair.

Note: It’s not that I don’t want to talk, I just want to avoid having to explain what it is I do. This is not a situation particular to barbers. It’s also applicable to friends, friends of friends, people at the bus stop, my landlord, my parents, the government, that sassy judge, my coworkers, Tony Danza, you know, the usual.

Note: I’m not ashamed, it’s just confusing, and because of that it leads to more talking and then more confusion and more talking, and then, before I know it, I’m living with that person.

Note: I know it doesn’t sound like it, but it is a big problem.

Here’s an idea. Instead of getting bogged down with notes, I’m just going to transcribe the conversation:

Barber: So what do you do?

Me: I work for the Center Theatre Group. I’m in the literary department. I develop new plays.

Barber: (beat) Wouldn’t there be more of that in San Francisco?

Me: Well, there is certainly a great theater scene there, but we’re a pretty big organization. We’ve got three theaters and work with a lot of fantastic artists here in Los Angeles.

Barber: Huh. (Snip, snip. Snip, snip. Snip, snip. Pause. Snip. Pause. Snip.) Uh, did you say you develop nude plays?

Me: No. No I did not. I said new.

Barber: Oh! That makes more sense!

Me: Yeah. I suppose your comment about San Francisco comment also makes more sense.

Fin.

Pier Carlo Talenti is the Resident Dramaturg/Literary Manager for CTG.

I saw Euripides’ Orestes at the National Theatre of Hungary in Budapest.  That’s right.  Ancient Greek drama in Hungarian.  It was très moderne, modern-dress, a pit full of discarded clothes, enormous mirrored flats dominating the scenery.  Orestes has been sleeping in a rusty pickup truck.  The chorus is five Hungarian housewives.

Very committed acting.  But it all got a little too obvious for my tastes, especially when Elektra shoved her tongue down her brother’s throat.

Strange thing about Hungarian audiences, which was also true at the ballet and at the opera.  During curtain call, they all applaud in their own rhythms.  But then gradually they all start applauding in unison.  It’s a bit like standing ovations on Broadway nowadays.  You can’t tell how heartfelt it is.  I don’t know.  It just felt a bit pro forma.  So I as an obnoxious American tourist was the only one who was applauding in my own time.  If I’d liked the play more, I might have subsumed my individuality to the clamor of the group. 

As for other theatrical experiences while I was on vacation in Europe, I experienced my first meal at a French Michelin-three-star restaurant.  Paul Bocuse’s restaurant in Lyon.  A whole other kind of theater:  The presentation of dishes.  Dramatic and alluring!

Mike Sablone is CTG’s Literary Associate and plays starting left field and third-string shortstop for Dark Monday, the CTG softball team.

I see my coworkers have blogged about the website, a Danny Hoch event, renovating tiny bathrooms, and their first kiss.

Angrily, I note that all of these were going to be included in my first post.

See I was going to write about my first kiss (take that Leslie!), which happened in a carpeted bathroom (take that Ritchie!) in my apartment in non-gentrified Greenpoint (take that Danny! Well, actually he shouldn’t take that. If I actually lived there then some form of gentrification was already happening.) while my roommate’s cat slept in our bidet (uh, I’m not sure who should take that one, perhaps my Polish landlord?). So now that that preposterously absurd story is out, what do I have left?

Ah, I see Mandy Ratliff has discussed the website design. Hmm. Yes. Our website. Any questions about that? Hmm. Ok. Let’s see … how about why can’t our website have an easier link to how to submit a new play to CTG? Right now we’re under “Employment Opportunities.” Which is a little too close to equating playwriting with data entry if you ask me.

So in order to skirt my responsibilities with my blog posting, I shall mock our organization’s website (zing!) and then re-post our submission guidelines. Because that’s where I’d go. Directly before “Employment Opportunities.” The blog.

I am nothing if not helpful, people.

Ladies and Gentlemen, I present, Center Theatre Group’s New Play Submission Guidelines (Caps Added For Effect):

Before you send a play to us here at Center Theatre Group, we ask that you submit a brief description of the work and from five to ten sample pages. If the piece is a musical we also request that you include a CD with samples of the music.

As always, please include a SASE for all correspondence and, should you desire it, the return of your materials. Please note that we discourage multiple submissions.

Your description need not be a full synopsis of the plot. Describe the play — the world, the characters, the conflict, your reasons for writing it. The sample pages, of course, will be most helpful to us in deciding whether or not to request the full manuscript.

You may also include any supporting materials — such as a résumé and/or reviews of your play — that might allow us a broader view of you and your work.

Send all submissions to:

Literary Department
Center Theatre Group
601 West Temple Street
Los Angeles, CA 90012

Please allow us approximately four to six weeks to review your submission.

See? It totally makes sense to find these here.

Of course I blame Mandy Ratliff for this entire thing.

YOU’RE ON NOTICE, RATLIFF.