A Note from the Director – My Preparation

The choreographer has finished his blog, but I, as director, asked him to hold off on his post, until I do this one. I want to talk about my artistic process and how I approach a piece as a director. I realize that I’ve been analyzing Follies for you thematically and critically, but it dawned on me that I should talk a bit about how I prepare a musical from a broader perspective. You are reading a good deal about of what I think about Follies. I think I should add the frame to the picture I’ve been painting of this production.

You may ask why have I decided to do that now. Well, it’s pretty simple. I’ve had number of actors email after the last post when I talked about holding a reading of Follies. First, I want thank all who wrote me and shared their point of view. Some wrote saying how great it was to hold a reading. Others who wrote were upset or concerned that I had pre-cast the show. They were concerned that I had my mind set on certain actors because I had invited actors that know and respect to read for me. These actors must, of course, be the front-runners for the casting of Follies. I can understand these actors’ concerns since many of them do not know me.

So now I will talk about myself and my process as a director of a musical, including holding readings. Hopefully, I can assuage fears about pre-casting – either literally or mentally. I want to assure all the actors who may be reading this and interested in being a part of this production that I have not cast any part. All parts are open, and the artistic team and I are open to any musical theater actor who wants to join us on this journey. So, join us and audition in December. If I were to pre-cast (as I have done for in the past), I would tell you upfront. Auditioning is never easy. I think that directors should never mislead actors as to the availability of a part.

When I start preparing a musical – and this usually takes place when I am throwing my hat in the ring, so to speak, and interviewing with a theater about directing a production – I start with two things: the script and the score. I must know these things thoroughly before 1) I make the decision that I want to tell a story, and 2) I try to persuade a theater to trust me with a lot of money and resources in order to put up this story on their stage.

A musical – and this seems like such a simple concept but one I have seen ignored time and time again by qualified directors – starts with the music. The music feeds and colors the words of the script. That is what makes doing a musical so special. You have two different sets of arts – words and music – to play with in communicating the story created by the author, the composer and the lyricist. And this does not even begin to incorporate the third art – dance – that is a vital part of most musicals. Thorough analysis of script and score is paramount, and for me, I find it one of the most exciting parts of putting the show together. It’s the time for dreams and make believe.

I’m fortunate to have had an introduction to music at an early age since my father was a professional musician. I learned how to comprehend music young and was fortunate to develop the skill of reading music. I’m grateful to my dad for this. I remember in college sharing with a dear friend this very thought. We met in college concert choir. We both had early musical training and could read scores. We were talking once and opined about how easy it was to read a score and hear what the music would sound like in our head. This skill was something that we appreciated. We also (pompously I think) could not imagine not being able to do that and felt sorry for people that couldn’t read music.

Understanding music and its structure has served me well as a director of musicals, since I can analyze both script and score together, rather than relying on recordings that often are incomplete. Using recordings is particularly a problem in approaching the modern musical, where underscoring is such a significant part of the spoken scenes, unlike musicals prior to 1970 where there was minimal underscoring. The music supports the words and not hearing it can hurt the story telling. The music is always telling you something. This is also one of the reasons that I’m very leery of people that cut music that they decide is in the way of their story. It’s one thing to re-work a musical with the composer and author; it’s another thing to slice music out of the musical score because you don’t know what to do with it. My advice: start over and figure it out. It’s there for a reason.

So I start with the script and score. I open myself up to seeing if they talk to me. How do I know if they talk to me? I start seeing pictures; I start seeing movement. Something clicks and images start occurring in my mind’s eye. Some scripts don’t talk me. I read them and read them and read them, and I don’t see anything. Oh yeah, I could probably stage them, but it would probably be more elbow grease than wanting to tell that story. But, boy, when I start seeing a script come to life with images – those moments are highs and for me, a creative high is one of the great moments in life. I feel so alive. It’s like what I imagine having a past life regression would be like. I see the story coming alive with such vibrancy and visual intensity.

Some musicals that I have done have started with seeing a character. Some start with seeing a scene. Still others start with a dance combination or the musical staging of a number. It doesn’t really matter where it starts, because once it starts, it spreads like a puddle into the other parts of the story. After reading and re-reading the script and the score, the visual story takes shape. This, of course, happens well before technical choices are made about set, costumes and properties, and before a show is cast. Everything sits in the imagination. (So, what did I see first in starting this journey with Follies? I’ll tell you – it was Phyllis’ folly, The Story of Lucy and Jessie.)

Of course, musicals are collaborative. So many people need to be involved and contribute to their creation in order for them to come to life. I’ve been fortunate to work with some fine creative colleagues to put together the musicals I’ve directed. Being able to partner with and lead them as director is based on this initial imaging of the story.

But stories can’t stay in my head, because all of those images have sprung from me and it’s not a one-man show. So, to get it out of my head and my interpretation, I enlist talented actors I know and respect to read the script out loud. The actors know that they are not being auditioned or pre-cast. They are creative friends helping out the director. This ‘out-loud’ reading helps immensely in making the story move from imagination to reality, and it helps shake it loose from me holding on to it exclusively.

The hardest aspect for me – and the most disciplining – is to annotate this vision and write it out before rehearsals begin. Because this primer serves as the guide and springboard for what will happen in rehearsal with the actors and in creative design meetings, I must write it down and be able to share it. I suppose that the choreographer in me is the one that has taught the director to put it down on paper, since the choreographer really needs to write it all out in order to be ready to teach the choreography. He tells the director that having it down on paper is really helpful.

For me, the director makes the psychology of the scene come alive by imbedding in the staging the objectives and subtexts of the actors. There are clues for the characters in my staging choices. For me, this process of dreaming and writing works well. It serves as a baseline and starting point for rehearsals, and allows me to be there for the actors as they discover who they are as characters in the story. It opens me up to watch and listen to them, rather than focusing on the needs in the scene. That’s already been done in this early preparation.

Working with fine actors is always a delight and a surprise. They so often bring so much more than I have dreamed up as the director – and often a different way of seeing something – that renders the music, the staging, and the choreography more powerful and honest. I love it when the ‘booster rocket’ of my preparation takes off and the actors then commandeer the ‘space ship’ to the stars. Cheesy metaphor, eh? Best I could come up with.

I promise the choreographer will write next. Thanks for the indulgence.

Next up: Vaudeville at its Best – Let’s Dance.

For additional information about the production itself, go to The Arlington Players website: www.thearlingtonplayers.org.

If you have questions for the director, feel free to respond to the blog or email him at folliesdirector@gmail.com. Responses to the blog may be posted publicly; email correspondence will be private.