Center Theatre Group News & Blogs

Bid Whist

Megan Matthews — Fri, 24 Apr 2015 19:31:00 -0700

Bid Whist is similar to Bridge and Spades. It involves strategy, card counting, and careful communication between partners.

The game originated in Turkey, and was brought to the United States by slave traders from Europe. At that time, slaves were forbidden to learn to read and write — activities thought to lead to independence and rebellion. But slave owners allowed card games like Bid Whist that taught and improved math skills, which were necessary to track cotton barrels and crops.

After slavery ended, Bid Whist continued to gain popularity, and became a favorite among porters and waiters working on train lines. As a result, many Bid Whist terms come from trains and cross-country travel. The phrase “running a Boston” is thought to come from the all night card games played on the longest routes. If you were the big winner, you could brag, “I won all the way from New Orleans to Boston!”

Talking trash is a big part of playing Bid Whist. In fact, it’s listed in many different instruction manuals — part of playing the game is finding creative ways to insult your opponent. Because the game requires a lot of concentration, trash-talking distracts your opponents, causing them to make mistakes. It’s considered bad manners, though, if the put downs get into areas other than a player’s Bid Whist skills (or lack of skills).

Card Terms

Bid:: The number of books a player thinks they can earn in a hand.
Book:: After each player has played one card, those four cards make up a book; also known as a trick.
Suit:: Spades, Hearts, Diamonds, or Clubs.
Boston:: When a team takes all of the books in a round, they’ve “run a Boston.”
Uptown:: Means high cards will win the book.
Downtown:: Low cards win the book.
Go Under:: When a team fails to earn the number of books they bid.

Blind Spots, Bias, and Bigotry

Megan Matthews — Fri, 24 Apr 2015 19:26:00 -0700

It is unlikely Evy would consider herself prejudiced or homophobic. But as the audience, we can see her biases clearly. She describes the type of relationship she wants Jesse to have, a relationship with “someone who will support you unconditionally, someone who will forgive you when you are wrong, someone who will expect the best of you… someone who has a good and moral heart, who honors and loves you just as you are.” She doesn’t realize that her bias against homosexuality is preventing her from seeing that Jesse already has exactly that kind of relationship with Kristian.

RONNIE: “When you talk that way about white people you’re talking about me.”
TONY: "But I don’t see you that way.”
— Immediate Family

Tony is the kind of person that gets along with everyone. But in an argument with Jesse, he makes generalizations about white people that Ronnie overhears and is hurt by. She reminds him that she’s biracial, and to be more thoughtful, saying, “BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU SAY. THINK.”

Like Evy and Tony, many of us are operating with unconscious biases about race, gender, sexual orientation, religion, class or political beliefs. Can we, like the characters we meet in Immediate Family, start to acknowledge our own biases, and work to change them? How can we do that within our own families? In our community? In our nation?

In a country with so much diversity, how do we talk about and accept our differences? How do we get to a place where no one has to hide any part of his or her identity? How can we make our differences into our greatest strengths?

Change "Walking the Tightrope"

Lynn Clark — Wed, 22 Apr 2015 19:47:00 -0700

Change can happen in the tiniest of ways. Sometimes it feels like a huge tidal wave. Experiencing change can make us very happy or make us feel extremely challenged.

In Walking the Tightrope, Esme and her Grandad Stan are going through an enormous change, even though everything around them looks the same as it has for years. Luckily, they have each other. The strong connection that we watch them develop, and their great love for one another, will ultimately get them to the other side of this very difficult transition that life has brought to them.

Clowns "Walking the Tightrope"

Lynn Clark — Wed, 22 Apr 2015 19:43:00 -0700

Walking the Tightrope’s clown wears a classic clown costume, white make-up and a bulbous red nose, just like circus clowns found in our Western culture. However, this clown has other jobs, besides making us smile. It serves as a symbol, or metaphor, in the play. The clown also acts as a bridge between the physical and spiritual worlds. Its role is closer to that of sacred clowns found in other cultures, such as the Native American Pueblo clown.

Walking the Tightrope’s clown was not a part of the original script. Director Debbie Devine added the clown character to the play in order to enhance the storytelling. Debbie had an “aha!” moment one night when she awoke from her sleep with the realization that the show should have a clown. She contacted the playwright, Mike Kenny, to get his permission for this addition. The clown would be a silent character, so none of the dialogue would change. This being the case, Kenny happily agreed. This situation is a perfect example of collaboration during the creative process.

Interview with playwright Mike Kenny & CTG's Student Ambassadors

Center Theatre Group — Wed, 22 Apr 2015 19:37:00 -0700

Ambassadors: What is your role as a playwright?

Mike Kenny:

Part of the clue about the role is in the name, in the difference between wright and write. A playwright is not really a writer. We create blueprints that other people build and inhabit. It’s like being an architect of a building which is actually living. It’s a social art which is more like a craft. It is about bringing people together in a space and telling the tales of what it is to be human.

The script for Walking the Tightrope is very open to imagination. It is written in poetic prose without stage directions. Can you tell us about your reason for leaving so much room for interpretation?

Before I was a playwright I was an actor and a teacher. For about 10 years I worked in a theatre company, which created work to take into schools. In my view the real play happens in the hearts and minds of the members of the audience, not on the stage. The theatre should only put in front of people things to provoke the pictures, which should find a pathway straight to their own memories and feelings. So, starting with nothing, you choose very carefully. This applies across the board — the set, the costumes etc. — but especially to the words spoken. It leaves room for everyone else — actor, director, designer, musician and most importantly, the audience — to do their jobs. I have seen many very different kinds of productions of my plays. There was a production of Walking the Tightrope in France that was done as a one woman show. It worked because the director understood that the job is to put pictures in people’s minds, thoughts in their heads and feelings in their hearts.

To my taste, I feel too much that is offered to children treats them as part fool, part customer. It’s trying to sell them something — a view of the world, maybe. However, children are extremely clever and can see that stuff coming a mile off. They are usually not buying it.

Do you have any rituals (activities you repeat) around writing?

I’m not a big one for rituals. You just have to get on and do it. I write best in the mornings. I carry a notebook with me always, and these days I love my iPad. I came from a very ordinary, working-class background, and I suppose I thought people like me didn’t become writers. I didn’t think people like us lived the kinds of lives that would be of interest to others. I stumbled into writing almost by accident, and now I think the lives of ordinary people are absolutely the subject of art. And I don’t develop rituals because I don’t want to make it appear to be magic. It’s just about paying attention, then starting to write.

Who do you relate to more, Esme or Grandad Stan?

Both, I think. I was the one and now I’m the other. I always say I write characters for myself to play (though I haven’t actually acted professionally for 30 years), and these days I would look pretty strange as Esme (the beard might be an issue).

What do you eat for tea?

I have a bread and butter pudding story. If you’ve never had it, it really is made of what it says it is. It’s comfort food made of leftovers and stuff people have in their fridges — eggs, milk and so on. It is great. Well, once I was working on a play in France. I speak French, but not great to be honest, and I was staying in a big house with the director and the actors, and some clever person suggested that we share the cooking. So I thought I would make B and B pudding. Which would have been fine had not the director’s grandmother come to stay and [decide] she wanted to see what I was doing. She spoke no English and asked me how to make it. So, I stood there, cooking and explaining this dish (in French) as I made it, while a French grandma watched my every move. In the end, she tasted it, pronounced it a success (though it would be better with cherries) and said it was just like a French recipe called Pain Perdu. It means Lost Bread. Isn’t that cool? I thought, one day I will write a play called that: Lost Bread.

Where do you imagine these characters are five years after the events of the story?

My grandmother and I were close right through to her death. In the last few years of her life she lived in a nursing home and was around long enough to meet my eldest son Billy as a baby. I think there is a very special relationship between grandchildren and grandparents. And Esme? I don’t know. I like to think she may have followed in her grandmother's footsteps. She liked balancing on the sea wall, after all.

The Center Theatre Group Student Ambassador Program is a free program for Los Angeles County high school students who are curious about the arts and want to build leadership and teamwork skills. Student Ambassadors work with other students and with theatre professionals on exciting projects that get more young people involved in the Los Angeles arts community.

American Theatre Examines ‘Debbie Devine and 24th STreet Theatre’s Tightrope Act’

James Sims — Wed, 22 Apr 2015 10:10:00 -0700

Debbie Devine—tall, with blonde curls, an alto voice and a resonating presence—stands outside the green double doors of her 24th Street Theatre, located in a rough-and-tumble neighborhood of Los Angeles not far from the University of Southern California. Devine evokes, in her way, the city’s mysterious patron saint, Nuestra Señora la Reina de los Angeles—Our Lady the Queen of the Angels. In fact, she calls the 24th Street venue her church, recalling that a distraught woman recently wandered in through the open green doors, believing the place was an actual church.

For Devine, it might as well be. Theatre for her is a sanctuary in a city and a culture where sanctuary is often hard to find.

Devine is unfailingly kind but unmistakably assertive. When she’s dealing with a lobby full of children bused in by the Los Angeles Unified School District to see a play at the 99-seat venue, Devine will be heard. The woman can silence 100 kids screaming in English or in Spanish as efficiently as if she were using a bullhorn. (It’s just old-fashioned stage projection.) Running backstage to deal with an emergency, she moves like a gazelle.

Her purpose is always clear to her. Sometimes it’s less clear to others.

Read the full article online at American Theatre.

Photo Credit: Tony Duran and Micaela Martinez in the 24th Street Theatre production of "Walking the Tightrope." (Photo by Cooper Bates)

Family Matters: A Conversation with Paul Oakley Stovall

Lynell George — Fri, 17 Apr 2015 19:51:00 -0700

As a young gay black man, Stovall was able to push through the isolation, but the power of that self-imposed silencing remained with him – later becoming powerful creative fodder. His play Immediate Family tackles not just the adverse effects of muting one’s essential self, but explores the cultural dynamics surrounding and inspiring it. Immediate Family looks squarely at the fraught intersection of race and sexuality, of love and hypocrisy and the minefield of omission and silence.

Lynell George:
You’ve been writing since you were 16. How did that become your creative outlet?

Paul Oakley Stovall:

I usually mention that I started at 16 because I was put in a class – you know how they call students gifted – I’m so afraid of that word – but we were in this poetry class. I had an affinity, I imagine, the instructor saw, for getting a thought across clearly, with very few words. My poetry was very succinct...

...and was published in a book soon after?

When I was told I couldn't, it was 'Watch and see...'

Just a couple hundred copies went out, I’m sure. But at 16, I didn’t even know what was happening. But to answer the question more in earnest, my passion for writing actually didn’t happen until years later. I went into acting and theatre and singing. And in 2003, I joined a theatre company in Chicago. The company was preparing to do its winter festival of new works with work generated by the company. I was told, “Paul we would like you to sing a few numbers between each presentation and keep them entertained” and I said, “I’m a company member, and I feel I should contribute my thoughts dramatically”; I was the only African American member of the company. They said, “No, you are going to entertain.” So I said, “Well, actually, I already have a play.” They asked: “Oh you do? Can we see it?” I told them: “You can see it tomorrow.” And I went home and wrote. I wrote enough scenes so that I could come back and say: “I only feel comfortable giving you one scene.” As it turns out it was the scene between Tony, Kristian and Jesse that would become Immediate Family. That’s all I had.

What was the reaction?

The audience went nuts and so then they asked: “Do you have the rest of it?” I said, I need to do some edits, and I’m not ready to show it.” I ended up writing the whole thing in about a week. So these characters came to life then. Obviously it’s changed so much. But really that’s what began my passion. Cracking that nut. When I was told I couldn’t, it was “Watch and see....”

How did you make that segue into theatre?

I was an athlete. And I was in every sport available, every quarter in school. The basketball team would be in the gym but that’s also where the school stage was. Sometimes they just pulled in whoever had energy. When I was in 8th grade, they needed some boys to be in West Side Story. They actually gave me a speaking role – Chino – and boy I loved it. When Chino shoots Tony, the audience goes: “Huah!” – as soon as I did that – I thought: “Oh, I can do that?” Then it became, “How can I jockey the schedule so that I can do that and athletics and student government and math club....”

With all that juggling, what were you hoping to accomplish?

I think it was in order to not deal with other things. I wasn’t the kid who ate my problems away, I was the kid who, if I leave the house at 8 a.m. and don’t come back until 10 p.m., I’m good. So I just joined everything I could. Eventually, I think theatre just grabbed ahold of me in a more personal way.

But what were you running from at home?

I think I was running from a fear of being excommunicated from my family for being gay. I had loving, super-intelligent, sophisticated, modern parents, so this was all in my head. But once you realize you have a secret, things shift. I was brave enough to go ahead and know that eventually, these two things are going to bump and I’ll have to come out – but I won’t deal with it until I have to.

So you were building not just your courage but spirit it sounds like?

Yes. I love that you chose the word “bump” because often that crash is what creates something new. Yes, that’s what I think created Immediate Family. You know when people talk about the play...people come to me, very humbled and thankful. Often people say Jesse is the protagonist, but really it’s Evy. This play is about her. Jesse is a major, major supporting role, but the play only happens because Evy’s conflict is set in motion.

The play is ostensibly about love and all the permutations and possibilities of it. But it also deals with the limits of acceptance that often exist in families. Particularly the African American family. Why do you think this remains such a difficult hill to climb?

The simple answer is what I think holds anyone back from something: Fear – that things will work out. Now, I know you didn’t think I was going to say that second half. Because if it works out, then what? Do you die once there is no conflict? We thrive so much on conflict. We feed off of it. Look at all the TV shows. But what if they were all nice to one another? No one would care. So there’s a fear – maybe a fear of not feeling vital. I think the opposite is true, that if we got it together, think about the things we could do. We could levitate! But it’s so devilishly fun to roll around in the mud.

Part of bringing people together in the context of the play is a dramatic game of bid whist, it’s a device that works as a bridge – how did you come to the decision that this was going to be a centerpiece?

...if we got it together, think about the things we could do. We could levitate!

I fought for it for years. Because producers would read that scene and they would say, “It just looks like some gobbledygook and you can’t understand this game.” But it’s not about understanding how to play the game. It’s about understanding what it means to these people. I learned it growing up. I have lamented how my little nieces and nephews barely know how to play Spades. But for many black people, bid whist was a rite of passage. It was serious. And it was important to realize that not anyone can sit at the table.

The play also examines the ways in which religion, and the Bible in particular, is used both as weapon and wedge between our hearts and reason. It’s also used – painfully as you so illustrate – to determine who can sit at the table – so to speak. The family struggles mightily with its perceptions. Why is there still such a divide?

It’s education. Education. We need real education. About the Bible, theology and about history. We need to be more informed. That’s why also the discussion about heroes is so important. Let the children choose who their hero is. Pull all the information out, and let the child choose.

People often ask writers, “What do you hope audiences take away?,” but really I am wondering what sort of conversations do you hope begin to take shape after people have experienced this, because this play opens doors we so often simply walk past.

I hope that people might have a conversation with someone that they didn’t necessarily think that they would. The integration of the audience at the Goodman was so wonderful. To have the gay community and the black community and older patrons and very young patrons in there. They would come in groups – you know how black women get their groups together – and they would start hanging out at the bar with the white boys and start talking. And then the white boys who came with their black boyfriends started talking to the women who wouldn’t ordinarily want to talk to them. So it was who was talking. That’s one thing that I want. Because you’ve been laughing and that muscle has been worked and your defenses are down – and the rest of It – the deeper stuff – it will come.

Post-its to Possibilities: A Day at the Theatre

Brandon Nease — Wed, 15 Apr 2015 20:24:00 -0700

Each year, CTG brings thousands of students to select main-stage performances. A trip to our theatres starts with a conference for educators to discover the production and ways to bring it to life and connect with their curriculum. These professionals receive rich educational resources, including a Discovery Guide and Educator Resources, for them and their students. On the day of the matinee, students enjoy a full length matinee and post-show discussion with artists from the show. Some schools even got a visit from a CTG teaching artist and were able to dive into the themes of the play before attending!

As the students arrived at the theatre, they were greeted by CTG staff and volunteers, and escorted to lines outside the theatre. You could see all of the anticipation bubbling in each child as they stood in line. As they waited, we wanted them to have some fun, and begin to immerse themselves into the show. The concept was simple, have the students write an answer to the prompt, “If you could change one thing about the world, what would it be?” The range of wishes encompassed everything: new updates for Mine Craft, to stop hunger, to be able to fly, and to end all violence and crime. The little stars held more than wishes, they held hope for the future. These fourth and fifth graders knew what had to be changed, and they had the promise of magic motivating them to write it down on their little post-it star. Saving endangered species, or saving their parents from smoking, the stars proved that these young children could see the issues in the world.

Once inside the theatre, everything was buzzing. I was sitting in the back of the mezzanine when a little boy turned to me and asked, “Does the stage change?” For someone who has been going to the theatre his entire life, I thought the answer was obvious—“of course it does!” Then I realized, from the hands being raised, that most of the kids in the audience had never been to a professional theatre production before.

Comments overheard throughout the production included the range from wonder: “Is that really her voice?” To problem solving: “I already know how the dress changes. The Fairy Godmother cast a spell on it and had the fireplace shoot out the pretty dress. I saw it.” Then personalization: “I would hate to live in that house; you can only see half of it.”

There was almost constant laughter, conversing, cheering, and even some sorrow as the students watched this Cinderella story. With all of the great things that the kids had to say, there was one comment that was better than all of the rest: “Can we see it again?!”

This experience taught me that if we are going to do the impossible, we cannot be worried about whether we think something can or cannot be done. In the words of the Fairy Godmother, “Impossible things are happening every day.” After seeing these kids, I know that nothing is impossible with a little help and a lot of kindness.

The library I grew up visiting doesn't exist anymore: The Shop Chronicles

Jesus Reyes — Tue, 14 Apr 2015 20:29:00 -0700

When I approached the branch managers of Benjamin Franklin Library, Malabar Library and Robert Louis Stevenson Library to host several of The Shop project programs, including the Play Readings, each one of them was enthusiastic about the idea. I was grateful but a bit worried, “What about the noise?” Each librarian assured me that most libraries had gone from civil to communal places; quiet was no longer the golden rule. At the library you can still check out a book and sign up for a computer and at the same time listen to a string quartet, pet an exotic animal, hold a neighborhood council meeting or listen to a play. In fact, each branch manager encouraged me to let it be known that libraries were resource/community centers for people to use.

For the Play Readings we partnered with East LA Rep, Off The Tracks Theatre Company, Watts Village Theatre Company, El Teatro Campesino and Artists at Play. Each organization was responsible for choosing a play that fit within their aesthetics and tapped into their network of artists and audiences. The Play Readings are meant to invite people to the library and surprise library patrons. For many, the Play Readings would be their first intersection with theatre.

East LA Rep presented Black Butterfly, Jaguar Girl, Piñata Woman and Other Super Hero Girls, Like Me by Luis Alfaro. Based on the writings of Alma Elena Cervantes, Sandra C. Muñoz and Marisela Norte, five girls from East L.A. are given a writing assignment: to write about their lives. The girls don’t believe that their lives are worth writing about, but like walking, they place one word in front of another and eventually, they find their wings and fly!

Off The Tracks Theatre Company presented the Spanish language play, Memorias de Dos Hijos Caracol by Conchi de Leon and Antonio Zuñiga. Coco and Toto are school friends. Toto dreams of becoming a butterfly to escape from his mother. Coco is certain that she was exchanged at birth. This is a story of friendship and imagination that questions how we look at the institution of family and come to understand that home is where your heart is.

Watts Village Theatre Company presented Riot /Rebellion by Donald Jolly. Riot/Rebellion revisits the historic six days in August 1965 when the struggle of race, class and power exploded in the once-ignored section of Los Angeles known as Watts. First person interviews are weaved together in a theatrical piece that seeks to make harmony from the discordant voices of a community that refused to be silenced.

Each play has been very different and the reaction from the library patrons has been very positive. The Spanish language plays have been extremely popular and we have seen people ease into theatre, moving from the rear of the library to the edge of the reading area. Library staff huddles in between book shelves and listen while they work. Teenagers wearing headphones and ignoring the performance suddenly laugh at each punch line.

But there is also a degree of responsibility that has to be addressed when art ascends onto a community. As I listened to one of the plays it suddenly struck me that library patrons have a specific need and expectations. A diverse population visits each library everyday and when a work of art suddenly appears in their space, how does that fit in? A theatre audience has purchased their ticket to a show and has an expectation regarding the story and the quality, but when a library patron walks in and takes a seat, what will he/she think of the play? Will the unsuspecting patron understand, like or be offended by the material? How can I make sure to provide the context for each reading that leaves room for the journey a good story will take the audience on, but acknowledge that this may be a different experience? So many questions need to be asked by arts organizations when they leave their buildings and work in community or when community is invited in. And still, every laugh, smile and applause makes the work worth it.

And the show continues. Coming up in April is, Popol Vuh: Heart of Heaven by El Teatro Campesino. A theatrical adaptation of “Popol Vuh,” the sacred creation book of the Quiche Maya, and the chapter “Heart of Heaven”: The tale of the creation of the world.

In May with Artists at Play presenting 99 Histories by Julia Cho. 99 Histories is a story about the bonds mothers and daughters, generation to generation. Eunice, a Korean American former cello prodigy, comes home pregnant and unmarried, and tries to mend her relationship with her mother. Haunted by violent memories and previous battles with mental illness, Eunice must confront her ghosts before she can move forward.

The library that I grew up visiting doesn’t exist anymore and the same can be said for the theatre I grew up attending.

To learn more about the Play Readings please click here.

Boyle Heights ticket to the theatre: The Shop Chronicles

Manuel Prieto — Mon, 13 Apr 2015 20:34:00 -0700

Workshop #1: Participants learned how to attach buttons, snaps, hooks and more to fix their own wardrobe and theatrical costumes.

Workshop #2: Participants got down and dirty with stitching! They learned the four most common stitches: Basting-stitch, blind-hem, cross-stitch and back-stitch. They were
able to fix rips, add fun details and hem their own skirts and pants!

Workshop #3: Participants measured up to expectations! They discovered how to take measurements and learn professional terms and methods to organize costume designer’s work.

Workshop #4: Participants sketched their superhero costume design and learned the differences between drawing clothing for women and men, and they even had the opportunity to select (swatch) fabrics.