First Audition Session, and Quartett at BAM

Today is Wednesday, and the first day of casting. I am oddly nervous. I did not sleep the night before, which I initially blamed on the deadly combination of cocktails and jet-lag. But I know deep down that the time had come to start translating the play in my head into something accessible and real. Dani Super (casting director) had already booked a day full of auditions, and I was able to see a variety of actors for each of the roles in the play (Peter, Angela and Death). She provides a great range of looks and ages for the roles, and also knows the background of each actor intimately - a great resource for me as I try to figure out the essence of each character. Hearing the text aloud is a real defining moment in the play's journey. By the end of the day, I have figured out certain acting habits that come out of specific training programs! We peg our favorites, and set up callbacks for later in the week. I determine to call people back in companies of three (one choice per character in the play) so that I can see how a full cast might interact with the material.

Tonight’s play outing had been planned for some time. The moment BAM released their Next Wave schedule for the fall, I snapped up tickets to Robert Wilson’s production of Quartett. This is a figure that had been discussed in almost every class in grad school, and it is one of my ambitions to have seen at least one live production of every director that has this kind of universal impact. I invited my three best friends from grad school to come to the Wilson experience with me (Kathleen Amshoff, my fellow director; Jason Williamson, the playwright with whom I’ve worked almost exclusively for five years, and Chris Dimond, another incredible playwright on the verge of breaking through).


It was a pretty extraordinary evening - unlike anything any of us had experienced before, and it provoked a lively discussion afterwards. What ended up on stage was almost exactly what we had studied and discussed in class, although the variable was the experience of watching it all unfold live, rather than having the comfort of flipping through pictures at one’s own pace. The production was able to completely create its own sense of time and space, and kept deliberately jarring the audience with unorthodox interludes (our favorite being the half-naked old man who insisted on doing some kind of clown jig during the major scene changes). 90 minutes of stage time felt like an eternity of provocation and contemplation. Watching each other watch the show was as much a part of the experience as the show itself, particularly during Isabelle Huppert’s show-opening four-minute monologue, delivered rapidly and in monotone - a novel solution indeed! We discuss the production and each other at Scopello's, a lovely Italian restaurant two blocks up from the Harvey that has become our BAM retreat. It is always so good to be with old friends. The process of finding out what has happened to one another is so very reassuring – proof positive that we are not at all alone in forging these paths ahead, and we do have people who understand and support our journeys.


From left: Jason Williamson (writer of The Red Umbrella), myself, Chris Dimond and Kathleen Amshoff post-Quartett at Scopello's

(posted by Ed)