Handcart
Ensemble: A Young NYC Theatre Company
Part
Two in a Two-Part Series
by Barrett Ogden
Art springs from discovery of the ever-new in the familiar—there is no formula for a masterpiece—but in the theatre, prolonged full-time group effort will make such a birth far more likely.
We rehearsed in a dingy 10 x 12 room whose relative affordability and proximity to Times Square were enough to reel us in. What we hadn’t anticipated were the paper-thin walls and ceiling that transformed the place into a sound trap, treating us to full-volume offerings of the neighboring opera singer, a group of would-be ascendants to the Spice Girls throne, and deafening barrages of tap dancing overhead. And there we were attempting to rehearse 17th century verse tragedy. It was a good exercise in concentration.
The performance space was one of the better bargains we’d found, located in the heart of the East Village’s Off-Off scene across from the world-famous LaMama Experimental Theatre Club. Our space was located on the 3rd floor of what once had been a Ukrainian Society building through the ‘50s, since identified as a base of operations for the KGB during the early Cold War years. The walls throughout were done in Soviet red, complete with portraits of Lenin and a vast array of propagandist décor hanging in the halls.
The theatre being located over a bar, we were assured the owners would turn down their music as a matter of course during showtimes. Not only did our friendly downstairs neighbors end up behaving in quite the opposite manner, I soon learned why the place was frequented by such an odd mix of Wall St suits and trust fund hipsters: it enjoyed the distinguished reputation of being a noted cocaine magnet. On top of that, the theatre was beastly hot, in spite of the air conditioning window unit. While backstage we would huddle in the closet-sized dressing room, using our toga costumes as fans and sipping on water bottles to keep from dehydrating, while the poor audience sat in the hard wooden chairs and staunchly endured. These factors should have been enough to kill the show outright, but the audiences were surprisingly receptive and continued to show in large numbers, selling the house out on several nights.
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| Scene from Andromaque |
Andromaque was enthusiastically received, both by critics and audiences alike. Handcart recouped a net return nearly equivalent to the initial investment, highly unusual for a fledging company’s Off-Off Broadway debut, especially with such an obscure play. This was enough to merit continuing with plans for further production, and take stock of how to proceed from what we had learned.
The show now ended and fall swiftly approaching, the majority of the cast and crew were off to other commitments that awaited them. We knew that realizing our vision of producing world-class theatre would demand a full-time group involvement. Substantial financial resources would be required to compensate our members in order to make this commitment possible. Raising such ambitious sums would require continuing to build a reputation through sustained production effort, continuous cultivation of a growing audience, and building a production history by which we could establish credibility with potential benefactors. We could not go on like this for too long. Michael and I had families to support, hopes of children not far off, and our day jobs would not provide sufficient income or benefits. The clock was ticking, which meant the Ensemble would not survive for long doing only summer productions.
If our dream were not to become a quickly fading memory, it would be vital to move significantly nearer to establishing a full-time coterie of creative and administrative personnel, with a permanent core group of actors being the most important component. This was the intention behind "Ensemble" in the first place, rather than as a cover name for one-off projects.
We began planning an initial fundraising campaign.
Sponsored by Unique Projects, Inc., a non-profit organization, we were eligible to receive tax-deductible contributions. How to go about securing such contributions was the question that plagued us. None of us had any schooling or professional experience in marketing, advertising, or public relations. It was simply a matter of learning as we went, seeking ways around obstacles as they arose.
After some months, we’d finally devised a basic fundraising letter, a very modestly designed informative pamphlet, and thanks to tech-savvy friends, had a website up and running. We carefully selected specific individuals -- from among the group mailing list, as well as certain family members and friends -- those whom we thought would be willing and able to contribute, requesting amounts from $100 to $500.
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| Scene from Andromaque |
Meanwhile, the box office revenue from Andromaque being nearly sufficient to cover the cost for another show, plans proceeded for the next production. We’d decided earlier to do an original verse adaptation of Honoré de Balzac’s The Wild Ass’s Skin, which Scott would write and direct. Originally we’d hoped to stage this in the winter, but thanks to pilot season auditions and graduate school commitments, a suitable group of actors large enough to take on the project could not be gathered. The Wild Ass’s Skin was set for August 2000.
The costume/set and lighting designers for Andromaque were friends from the Y, and had rendered their services gratis. Their contribution had relieved our budget of a significant burden, as decent designers can be quite expensive. In lending their expertise, both had to take time out of busy professional schedules and pass up paying work. We knew that to make the next project possible we’d have to find a similar situation, since our budget was still not large enough to pay anyone.
A cast assembled and designers secured -- again all but one being LDS, incidentally -- rehearsals for The Wild Ass’s Skin commenced in June (this time in a thankfully more hospitable environment than last year). We are now but a few days from opening night.
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| Scene from Andromaque |
The Wild Ass’s Skin is an original verse adaptation by Scott Reynolds of Balzac’s novel "La Peau de Chagrin", a melodrama reminiscent of Goethe’s Faust. The story revolves around Valentine, an aspiring young man of letters who comes to despair of ever making his mark among the literati or of capturing the heart of the woman he adores. While on the brink of suicide, there falls into his hands a magical donkey skin whose magical properties enable him to obtain his heart’s desires on demand. This power, however, comes with the following caveat: its possessor’s lifespan diminishes each time his yearnings are uttered or merely felt. The young man enters into this ill-fated bargain and the nature of happiness is excruciatingly examined thereby.
Balzac provides a healthy contrast to last year’s Andromaque. The rhythm and quality of the language and staging is rollicking and transformational, conveying a sense of Valentine’s whirling trajectory from the precipice of despair to the heights of fevered giddiness. This is in stark opposition to the icy formality that restrains the white-hot centers of Racine’s archetypal figures. Balzac’s story is translated to the stage as a quivering, multiform amoeba of activity, with the actors changing to different characters at a moment’s notice, conspiring in a whirlpool of action that spins like a lurid carnival ride. Valentine remains affixed in their midst, transfixed by his own will, like a skewered exotic insect on display. In Andromaque, the actors played the same characters throughout. Instead of scurrying in fevered orbit around a central point, they interlocked as calculating opponents, like alabaster chesspieces in a claustrophobic endgame.
Out of the various projects Reynolds has directed, The Wild Ass’s Skin marks the first time he has made use of more than one or two props in a single show. Though still minimal in set design and properties, the actors use an assortment of sundry items in telling the story. This is also the first time Reynolds has staged a play in other than a proscenium setting (where the audience views the action as if through a picture frame). Here instead, the spectators are seated on either side of the playing area, presenting numerous challenges in assuring sightlines are clear and the action "reads" to both sides of the house. Because the audience is divided in two halves, there is less space between the back rows and the stage, ensuring a greater intimacy and connection between the actors and audience. The theatre has 39 seats (mercifully cushioned this time) -- the same number to which we limited last year’s capacity -- in order to foster as close a connection between performers and spectators as possible.
The Wild Ass’s Skin runs August 8 — 12 & 14-19 Monday through Saturday at the American Theatre of Actors, Beckmann Stage, 314 West 54th St, 2nd Floor (between 8th & 9th Ave), in New York City. Show times are 8:00 pm, with an additional matinee on Saturdays at 2:00 pm. Tickets are $12 w/ reservation, $15 at the door. Call (212) 726-8054 for reservations.
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| Scene from Andromaque |
Our first annual fundraising campaign was a success. Though only a fraction of those who received our letter chose to respond, those who did were sufficiently generous that -- provided the The Wild Ass’s Skin renders a net box office return comparable to last year -- there will be sufficient funds for an April 2001 production (with no pay). This will be a 16th century Italian comedy (selection not yet finalized) in a new translation by Scott Reynolds and Michael McCurdy. Michael, who is proficient in Italian, will provide the literal translation, and Scott will render it in a poetic verse form. Adam Houghton, a talented colleague and long-time friend (who is presently training in traditional Japanese theatre techniques), will leave his Kansas City home for 3 months to sleep on our floors and direct the production. Adam’s talents will provide opportunity for new insight and discovery, while allowing Scott to focus on refining an original verse tragedy planned to run August 2001.
Currently titled David and Bathsheba, Reynolds' new play combines the tragic dimensions of a timeless biblical narrative with an innovative form of spoken verse. This will mark Handcart’s first foray into scripturally derived material, a direction we intend to develop further as awareness and support among the LDS community grows. Our second annual fundraiser will commence next June.
We’re not well known yet (outside of certain small New York circles), but the momentum continues. A loyal audience base, composed of LDS and nonmembers alike, will continue to grow. Art springs from discovery of the ever-new in the familiar—there is no formula for a masterpiece—but in the theatre, prolonged full-time group effort will make such a birth far more likely. If support for our vision builds up faster than the ticking clock spirals down, our dream may yet survive.
*For further information on Handcart Ensemble, to contact us, or to find out how you can help or get involved, please see our website at http://www.handcartensemble.org, email us at handcart@handcartensemble.org, or call our information line at (212) 726-8054.
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