How Does BSB Choose a Play? Let us begin.

As Artistic Director of a small, artisan theatre whose choices aren't bound by a committee, one of my responsibilities (that I mostly enjoy) is to select what works we will mount.  Though it sounds straightforward enough, it's trickier than it may seem. I thought some of you might want to get a behind-the-scenes view of the labyrinthine navigation that actually occurs before the “Eureka—this is the one” moment, and why sometimes, it takes a while.  After the first point, there's no particular order of importance.  Everything has to work, more or less, at the same time.

First, the Fun Part.  Year round, I read plays that I've never read, reread many I have, research, go back and read/reread some more. So many works from which to contemplate content and imagine the acting: it's exhilarating.  And then comes reality—that's when the famous philosopher's perfect, imaginary chair meets its earthly carpenter. Here we go.

Second, the Setting of A Play.  Imagine this.

Sampling of necessary scenic criteria as specified by various prominent playwrights.

Play A:  “An enormous circus tent. A huge, slanted pole thrusts the canvas out and up.”

Play B:  “A dark prison cell with only an iron cot and straw mattress. . . A tier of cells forms an ominous column, vanishing into the shadows above.” (Cells must be atop each other in three tiers as per the plot/action. And yes, people act on them.)  Two pages later, same scene: “The floor cell magically turns into a bedroom. The straw cot becomes a luxurious double bed. A small table with a gramophone appears” [along w the occupant's lover--who is easier to get onstage than the table and the gramophone].  Another two pages pass, same scene: “The phantasmagoria of she and the bedroom vanish,” and immediately we're back to the iron cot/straw mattress, sans luxurious bed, sans table, sans gramophone—soon to turn into an art museum.

Play C:  Describing an old flat in an apartment house:  “The room is German.”

A and B (powerful, classic plays) could only be mounted by large theatres with budgets to match. Such elaborate scenic necessities are not uncommon in the realm of requirements of many classic plays, even some more recent ones.  (I added C for fun. I'm sure we could figure out what a “German room” is and present one.)  The point is that physical possibility and affordability of a set figure prominently in choosing a play.

Third, the Venue.  Obviously, the location of our productions ties in with the settings of the plays.  For example, an Irish play set in an old pub or poor cottage won't work at the Joslyn Castle but can be rendered expertly on a created set at First Central Congregational Church. A play that calls for a multitude of theatrical lamps/special lighting effects can't be mounted at either location or any of our other non-theatre-designed venues.  Non-theatre buildings are not wired to accommodate the electrical demands that a lot of theatrical lamps require. 

     (That's one reason I keep deciding against mounting Death of A Salesman.  The many “specials” of lighting that I imagine, side-by-side with pitch dark areas, may not be possible.)

     The venue variable also includes availability of the space.  We're fortunate to have developed relationships with several kind and supportive organizations who are willing to offer rental opportunities that make possible our 9ish-performance-plus-dress-rehearsal-week runs. But they have calendars of events of their own that, of course, we must plan around as far in advance as possible, and this is a significant determiner in our schedule and to some extent, the nature of the play.

Fourth, the expense.  As we all know, costs since the pandemic have risen significantly.  And suppliers of materials, along with workers who construct sets/lighting for public performances, have been as hard hit as performing groups, not only because of current costs, but also in continuing to recover from over a year of little business because of the covid threat. The average cost of a BSB play is now well into five figures, including all scenic elements, design/construction, space rental, and actors/technicians.  So of course, the costs of setting and talent, including cast size, enter in to the choice of production.  (When people suggest we do an Oscar Wilde comedy, the first thing I think of is the rental cost of men's formal wear. Whether it's nineteenth-century or later, you might be able to fudge the fit of a woman's frock, but not so for tail coats or tuxes.  Or keep Victorian characters from changing clothes two or three times a day.)

Fifth:  Can we cast it effectively?  Do we dare settle on a title before we know?

The short answer to the first question is, I rarely know; to the second, it's yes and no.

     Once I finish reading a play that propels me into “we just have to do this,” the next vital question arises.  Can we cast it?   Outside of big-city, Equity markets where there are many more actors and a wide spectrum of age among them, I doubt that any director can answer that question immediately following reading a script.

     Omaha is unusual. For a city that offers no means of a living wage for an actor, we have a considerable number of talented stage actors, some so gifted they'd excel on Bdwy stages. The choice to be at home here rather than in NYC or traveling from one regional theatre to the next, the choice to lead less-frenetic, less lonely, less volatile lives is unrelated to any degree of talent. I'd even venture that for gifted actors it can lend something a little extra, a little different.  Maybe that's why this city has so many theatres.

     Those two elements: actors having family responsibilities and “civilian” jobs outside of theatre, along with the number of theatres producing, complicates casting here.  The former circumstance can result in scheduling conflicts that make it impossible for an actor to take part in a particular production.  The latter sometimes results in the same, but because of prior theatre commitments. 

    Often when I'm reading a script, a particular actor comes to mind for a role.  I might “hear” them speaking the lines or imagine the way in which they might convey a certain idea.  If that stays with me, I'll contact them to see if they're available and if they'd be interested in reading the script. If they're not available/interested, re-imagining begins, along with searching and discovering actors I don't yet know.  Sometimes I envision specific people in several roles and imagine how they would fit within an ensemble. And then someone brand new walks into an audition, reads well, and the reconsidering/reshuffling begins.  It's never exactly the same; sometimes it works, sometimes not.  It's almost always a matter of kismet.  But rarely would BSB go forward with announcing a title without some assurance even before auditions that we can anchor it with one or two (or more) experienced actors fitted to key roles. 

       A note on a kind of Rep company  Longtime directors over years develop working relationships with actors who are somehow on the same wavelength as they are, and that's true in my case here at BSB. Patrons will recognize many of these artists, and this theatre is enormously fortunate in having  cultivated their friendship and in sharing their work. Sometimes when a new auditionee is cast, it only takes a handful of rehearsals for that actor and director  to “get” each other, to tune into the same zeitgeist, and that's also true in my experience. When thinking of casting an ensemble, those people come to mind to take part in it.  Working with a familiar company of talented actors who share that committed, yet open sensibility—a kind of repertory—enables the process of discovery to develop more quickly because it furnishes a relaxed, welcoming, down-to-earth working environment for all, including first-time BSBers who will, we hope, return.

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As you see, play selection at Brigit can get a bit complicated: elements are interdependent, and they  don't always come about as quickly as we'd like.  This logistical explanation is longer than I'd anticipated, but delving into the aesthetics of the kind of plays we choose would be even longer.  We'll save that for another time.  Or two. 

Best wishes and see you at the theatre.  

Cathy M. W. Kurz

Artisitic Director