Episode 1: The Script

“…a picture is worth a thousand words, make sure they’re the playwrights.”

Wendall Harrington

First page of text from my script of Little Shop

Words on a page, the first parameters for building a world.

Now, there are some fundamental tools of script analysis that most theatre artists are equipped to use regardless of focus. I’m not going to go through those here because this is a design-centric theatre tale. Suffice it to say, if you are interested in such things, do look up David Balls book Backwards and Forwards.

How do I personally go about script analysis specifically for design? Well, I go in with a foundational question: what do we need to tell the story? Some concrete things that I look for in every script to start helping flesh that answer are:

• Stage Directions (***Please note, the stage directions are a little like the pirate’s code in that they are more like “guidelines.” Sometimes an estate or still living playwright will rigidly dictate that stage directions can’t be altered in any production. More often, however, one is allowed to treat them with a degree of discretion. I tend to look at them to get an idea of how the progenitor originally conceptualized a moment, and because they sometimes subsequently incite what I discuss in the next bullet…)

• What is said by the characters (This is a little less elastic then stage directions, but still can be interpreted with some discretion. Ex: a character may say, “Would you look at the time‽” which could mean there is a clock in view…or maybe it’s through a doorway to a room leading offstage, or a wristwatch…again, definitely more pressing then the stage directions, but still some room to wiggle depending on what the director is looking for in the moment.)

I usually go by a rule of three reads at least when I get a script. The first read: try and just read the piece for what it is (don’t turn on the design brain, just react to the piece as is). Second time: I start notating any words I don’t know, putting in questions (does the director see this as inside or outside? Clarify how we want to make this work etc.). The third time is where I’ll start sketching little thumbnails in the margins and getting a little more designer-y (ex. how can we show the contrast of how this character is processing their inner darkness in this moment of death as opposed to their complete jubilation later when they return from the depths of despair….yeah, my teenage anxt self can come back in my notes, don’t judge).

Soooo, Little Shop of Horrors is a wild show with a wild script to match. Musicals, to start, already present their own special challenges. They often have:

• Multiple locations

• You have to shift through to those locations very quickly and seamlessly because, tempo people!

• You have to style the world so that it’s a place where people believably express themselves through song on a regular basis.

• Often there is a large-ish cast (**Little Shop is somewhat an exception here. We were going to have 12 people in our production, but that was because we fleshed out a small ensemble. I have seen the show done with just 8 people).

• Practically, you have make sure the scenery supports the action and the choreography.

Little Shop has all these fun things plus one teeny tiny extra thing; A VERY LARGE AND VERY ACTIVE PUPPET.

To be specific (in our show) four puppets. Three out of those four need to very strongly interact with the set. Especially the final puppet, the largest one that has to successfully eat three people live onstage (one of whom is running at full speed into it with a machete, but, meh, details) safely and effectively. This isn’t even getting into the practicality of how we seamlessly move these various puppets on and offstage without audience seeing the moves…nope we aren’t even close to thinking about that yet.

At the point where I got through my three readings of the script, I found myself of two minds.

The first:

UMMMMMMMMM………..

And the second:

EEEEEEEE!!!!!

This is an iconic musical. This is one that holds a warm place in the hearts of many, including my own. The music is just good!! I mean, it has so few reprisals, the whole show is full of new songs that span the gamut in style and yet all work beautifully. The plot is macabre and utterly ridiculous, but it does beg the questions that are close and uncomfortable; how far would you go to gain financial security? To never have to worry about anything ever again? To be adored and held in esteem for no other reason than you own something unique? How far would you go to escape poverty, abuse, and danger to achieve the promise of love, prosperity, and a bright future? The show is whimsical, but it’s not fluffy.

This is where I got to in my analysis of the script. I had some ideas about what we were going to need. But, before I could clarify and move on I obviously had very important people I needed to start being in close concert with from here on out; the director and the rest of the creative team.

Lost and Found (A "thesis" story)

OFFICIAL DESIGN ASSIGNMENT OFFER

This was the email I’d been waiting for.

To briefly to introduce you to the circumstances I’m an MFA candidate in Scenic Design at the University of Connecticut. Part of the deal is that I’m technically a designer in residence for the Connecticut Repertory Theatre for the academic year. Myself and my fellow grad students, and sometimes undergraduate, are often the ones designing the various aspects of the shows that are produced by CRT outside of the Nutmeg summer shows. In our third year of grad school, one of our show assignments also acts as our MFA Project (which we refer to as our “thesis” show even though technically it’s a Master’s Project). In addition to fully designing a realized production in the season, we produce a “book” that catalogs our whole process and all the pertinent materials necessary to our design. We then have to present that documentation and discuss our work with a committee that then formally determines if we have successfully accomplished our Project.

Little Shop of Horrors presented at the Harriet S. Jorgensen Theatre by the Connecticut Repertory Theatre, is my MFA Project. The email above was the official confirmation of that assignment. I smiled wide when I got it. Little Shop holds a warm place in my heart, and I knew it would be a “thesis” worthy challenge. Plus, there was some fun history with the director that I will reveal in later posts. I knew it was a beast of a show. I was already anxious about whether I could actually meet the demands it required. Still, I’d wanted it badly. It was mine, and I was going to do my utmost to make it amazing.

Obviously….some things are different now. I find myself in the place of many of my fellow theatre artists. Our show is canceled as a complication of COVID19 prevention measures. This is painful. The creative team has been working actively together on this production since November 15th of 2019; some of us had been working on it since April of that same year. We had just gotten to the point where we had first rehearsals and we were just beginning production of the scenery and other elements. It was going to be a really good show. The cast was excellent, the production facilities new and ready to handle the scale of the show, and the designs…..they were all quite stellar. Another casualty among the myriad of consequences that I’m sure we will still be navigating years from now.

I have mourned for that unrealized piece of my work. I was deeply excited to see it in motion; more excited than I’ve really admitted even to those closest to me because I cry ugly and I prefer to to do that in private. Now, though, what’s left? Actually, quite a lot.

See, I’m really lucky. I’ve done a huge amount of work, all the creative team has. We’ve been living with this show since November (design process at CRT is quite long), and for me that means I’ve produced 3/4 of the materials that I would have ultimately needed for my show in full. I have pages of research images, sketches, a veritable graveyard of model pieces, a fully colored (and darn good looking) color model, a completed drafting package, detailed paint elevations, and miles of photographic proof that this design was real. I’m sad that I won’t be able to include pictures of the pieces coming to life full size. I won’t be able to gasp in delight as the actors interact with the world we made, but, all is not sadness.

My Project is safe (i.e. I can still present and graduate on time) because thankfully it’s set up to be flexible. So long as I did the work (and oh I most definitely did!), I can’t be penalized for something as unprecedented as a pandemic. “In fact,” my mentor told me in a phone conversation not long after the school moved to online and the show was canceled, “documenting and responding to this event will make your thesis probably more interesting and unique than what anyone would have imagined previously.” I heard the subtle message intertwined in his already blatant encouragement; this is a rough situation that could prove a unique opportunity, use it.

And so, I am. I’m taking this space to open up my process. I’m going to walk through the wild places of how the scenic design for this show came into being and show you, to the best of my abilities, what that design would have looked like had you had the opportunity to see the production. Obviously, no paltry model photos or orderly drafting will ever equal seeing a production. However, I would pose these questions to you; how often do you really get to see the design process showcased? How often does a designer stop to really show all the pieces that went into the model box in the display case at the end? Also, how often do we find ourselves with a little more time to actually explore that process in such detail?

This journey is not just about me. It’s also about my collaborators. Sure I want to show you the process of my design, but more than half that process is inextricably tied to the relationships that I share with my collaborators. We have our specialties, but we are an ecosystem where every design decision profoundly affects everyone else’s choices. How we make those choices together and as individuals is what makes our art form unique. This team was amazing and I want to use this showcase to give you a glimpse of how the way we work together is really the thing that makes our work something worth seeing.

I will be showing and telling in detail. I hope you can see how hard we worked to bring you something wonderful. Even though this is a shadow of a thing deferred, this is the way I want you to see my work. This is my MFA Project, a culmination of three years of grueling labor to become better at my craft. I am proud of this. And so, from here, the posts will showcase parts of the process and the people in that process. Welcome to the Shop!