(un)missed connections

Benefiting: GLAAD (Gay & Lesbian Alliance Against Defamation)

Produced/Written by Mark-Eugene Garcia

Directed by Rodrigo Bolanos

“(un)missed connections is a modern drama, a brief glimpse into the lives of eight strangers, brought together through chance – and Craigslist. It’s about being at the right place at the right time, or wrong time. Its about searching, online, in line, next to you, across an empty room, even on a massage table for a moment, for a connection.”

Show Times:

• Wed 6/6/12 @ 9:00pm
• Mon 6/11/12 @ 10:00pm
• Tues 6/12/12 @ 7:00pm
• Sun 6/17/12 @ 10:00pm
• Sun 6/24/12 @ 1:00pm

Answers by Mark-Eugene Garcia

(Playwright)

Karen Tortora-Lee’s Question
How did you come up with the title for your show?

Mark-Eugene:   We actually had quite a few titles. The play is based on missed connections from Craigslist, so I originally gave it that title of Missed Connections. But the play really about isn’t missing the connection as opposed to finding them. After speaking with Rodrigo, our director, we came up with (un)missed connections.

Diánna Martin’s Question
If you were going to invite 5 people (from the past or present) to see your show – who would you invite … and why?

Mark-Eugene:   1- Armistead Maupin- because he is probably one of the biggest influences in my writing. I love his plots. I love his books. I love that, without ever meeting me, he taught me so much about who I am and how to live my life. 2&3- Lynn Ahrens and Stephen Flaherty- It was through their music that I figured out that I wanted to write theatre. 4- Randy Brunk- a fantastic actress and mentor I knew who supported me in everything I did, pushed me in my theatrical pursuits and was the inspiration for a short play I wrote. I would LOVE to see what she would say about my endeavors now. 5- Laura Linney- She is amazing, probably my favorite actress, a huge crush of mine, and I constantly seem to be one connection away from her at all times. My friends have met her. Even my ex-friends have met her. I know people she knows…She even signed an autograph for me, through them. But I never have met her. Can someone tell Ms. Linney to come see my show and connect with me?

Antonio Minino’s Question
What is the biggest sacrifice you’ve made for your art and was it worth it?

Mark-Eugene:  I’d have to say that the biggest sacrifice has been most of the nights and weekends out that most others had in their twenties. How I found a partner without being social is a miracle. I’m kind of a homebody. I’d rather be writing, I guess. But considering that the play is opening soon I think the trade off was well worth it.

Geoffrey Paddy Johnson’s Question
Was there any unexpected discovery made during the development of this production and can you share it with us?

Mark-Eugene:  The play originally had a very different much darker ending. In a past incarnation, a producer made a quick suggestion that perhaps (blank) should happen and (blank) shouldn’t. At first I thought, “Who the hell are you? This goes against what the play stands for and what I want the audience to walk away with.” But then I took a few breaths, swallowed my pride and thought about it. The producer had a point, and so did I. So I took a night, thought about my options, found some happy mediums and I went with the happiest medium. Like what I did there?
(Karen: Yes I do, Mark! Adorbs!)

Michelle Augello-Page’s Question
What do you hope the audience receives from the experience of seeing this show?

Mark-Eugene:  I want the audience to take a look around and see who is standing nearby. When I sat at home and began reading the missed connections ads, I noticed something. These weren’t just people looking for sex or love. These were people, all nearby, who were reaching out and searching for some kind of connection. Whatever they saw in an eye wink, a smile, a quick exchange of conversation was what they were looking for. Those missed connections ads tell us as much about the writer as they do of the moment. We all are looking for connections. They can be anywhere. A train, a bedroom, a bar, a restaurant, and hopefully… in a theatre.

___

Planet Connections runs from May 30 – June 24 at The Bleecker Street Theater located at 45 Bleecker Street, New York, NY. To purchase tickets to this or any of the shows click here.

Related Posts:

• Smacker And The Highway – 5 Things To Know About The Show Before You Go (2012 Planet Connections Festivity)
• Naked Brazilian – 5 Things To Know About The Show Before You Go (2012 Planet Connections Festivity)
• The Closet – 5 Things To Know About The Show Before You Go (2012 Planet Connections Festivity)
• Ye Elizabeths – 5 Things To Know About The Show Before You Go (2012 Planet Connections Festivity)
• Acts Of Love – 5 Things To Know About The Show Before You Go (2012 Planet Connections Festivity)

See Bob Run

Benefiting: RAINN
Produced by Dancing Torero Productions
Written by Daniel MacIvor
Directed by David Gautschy

“A dark and edgy dramedy about a young woman hitchhiking across the Canadian prairies. Determined to meet her estranged Father at the water, Bob is talkative, paranoid and full of secrets. Told through direct address, monologues to unsuspecting drivers and twisted fairytales. The play is a complex portrait of the many effects of abuse.”

Show Times:

• Wed 6/6/12 – 5:00pm
• Mon 6/11/12 – 4:00pm
• Saturday 6/16/12 – 8:00pm
• Wednesday 6/20/12 – 4:00pm

Answers by Allison Plamondon
(Actor, Producer) 

Karen Tortora-Lee’s Question
How did you come up with the title for your show?

Allison:  Daniel MacIvor wrote the play in the 80s so he named it then.

Diánna Martin’s Question
If you were going to invite 5 people (from the past or present) to see your show – who would you invite … and why?

Allison:  Daniel MacIvor (because he wrote it-although don’t tell me when he is there because I will forget all of my lines)
Caroline Gillis (because she originated the role in 1986 and I would love to buy her a beer after the show)
Tim Ryan (head of my theatre program-passed away in 2009. because he would be proud)
John Cameron Mitchell (because Hedwig and the Angry Inch is totally inspiring!)
Robert Downey Jr (because wouldn’t you want him at your show?)

Antonio Minino’s Question
What is the biggest sacrifice you’ve made for your art and was it worth it?
Allison:  Leaving everything I had in Toronto and moving to New York. Was it worth it? You have to ask?

Geoffrey Paddy Johnson’s Question
Was there any unexpected discovery made during the development of this production and can you share it with us?
Allison:  In 2011, we worked on See Bob Run part-time for months and months before doing a workshop presentation in the fall. When we picked it up again (8 months later) it was amazing how quickly everything came back. Phew. So, the unexpected discovery was now that the groundwork was laid, we could take more risks and have more fun with it. Exciting!

Michelle Augello-Page’s Question
What do you hope the audience receives from the experience of seeing this show?
Allison:  I hope the audience walks away saying “eh” at the end of every sentence like a true Canadian.

___

Planet Connections runs from May 30 – June 24 at The Bleecker Street Theater located at 45 Bleecker Street, New York, NY. To purchase tickets to this or any of the shows click here.

Related Posts:

• Accidental Incest: Someone For Everyone – 5 Things To Know About The Show Before You Go (2012 Planet Connections Festivity)
• (un)missed connections – 5 Things To Know About The Show Before You Go (2012 Planet Connections Festivity)
• Smacker And The Highway – 5 Things To Know About The Show Before You Go (2012 Planet Connections Festivity)
• Naked Brazilian – 5 Things To Know About The Show Before You Go (2012 Planet Connections Festivity)
• The Closet – 5 Things To Know About The Show Before You Go (2012 Planet Connections Festivity)

There’s a reason that the second rule of Fight Club is the same as the first rule of Fight Club.  Because Tyler Durden (and by extension, author Chuck Palahniuk) understood that it’s human nature to break rules.  First rule of Fight Club – don’t talk about Fight Club.  Second Rule of Fight Club:  DO NOT talk about Fight Club.  So what did people do?

What does this have to do with August Schulenberg’s new play DEINDE?  Simple.  DEINDE – a sci-fi story of quantum biologists who use a  Dineural Entangled Intelligence Network DEvice [a "clumsy acronym, really, not even a real E at the end"] to “loop in” in order to juice their brains so that they can be smart enough to cure a virus that has been killing the world’s population – begins with four simple rules:

1. When using DEINDE do not think of anything other than work.
2. Do not keep the connection to DEINDE live outside of work.
3. Do not use DEINDE to communicate with each other.
4. Do not use DEINDE to accss the world online.

Sounds so easy to follow, right?  So did “Don’t talk about Fight Club” and we all know how that turned out.

The rest of the play is about how those looped in to DEINDE systematically break the rules as they find themselves becoming addicted to the unnameable and unbelievable power that overtakes them, courtesy of this strange and wonderful and terrifying new level of understanding.

The play itself begins with a chess match – a conventional one –  which then thematically unfolds throughout the entire play, on a much more subtle level.  In the first scene the game is being played on a recognizable board and the notion of checkmate has no hidden meaning or agenda. On one side of the board we have Cooper (David Ian Lee) who plays a very analytic and thoughtful game where he tries to see every available move before he proceeds. However he doesn’t have the intuitive leap to be able to move beyond what is in front of him in order to win the match.  On the other side of the board there is the older, wiser Malcolm (Ken Glickfeld) who is the embodiment of 95 years of trial and error.  This dictates not just how he plays a chess match, but how he moves through life.  While it seems that he is using intimidation and brio to distract his opponent in actuality he doesn’t need this slight of hand – he’s won the game anyway, based on his innate knowledge which comes from something that can’t be taught – something that can only be experienced.  By zeroing in on the fatal flaw of his opponent rather than relying on the limitations of his own body of knowledge, he is able to win the game.

DEINDE featuring Isaiah Tanenbaum, Ken Glickfeld, David Ian Lee, Rachael Hip-Flores, and Nitya Vidyasagar (Photo credit Justin Hoch)

DEINDE works with this theme throughout the play;  constantly pitting two sides against each other with much higher stakes, and a checkmate which implies not just the end of a game but perhaps the end of human progress.  The battle is between information vs. intuition, intelligence vs. maturity, wisdom vs. knowledge.  If you’re paying attention it’s easy to see how the moves will play out – but nonetheless thrilling to watch as they unfold.

There’s a lot of science here – this is, after all, a sci-fi tale, but it’s laid out in a way that is conversational, interactive and engaging.  If some of it goes over your head, well, that’s almost the meta-point.

DEINDE is what would happen if Charly and Sybil had a love child who evolved at the speed of light.  If you remember your high school reading assignments, Flowers For Algernon dealt with Charly (or Charlie), a learning-disabled man who is chosen by a team of scientists to boost his intelligence.  As Charly becomes self aware, and soon hyper-intelligent he becomes disenchanted both with his former self as well as those around him whom he once admired.  Similarly, Jenni and Mac – the young, eager (already brilliant) quantum biologists who undergo the DEINDE process find themselves on this same road – unable to return to the blandness of the existence they had before they looped in.  So they simply don’t.

As they further break the rules they become reliant upon the technology, even as they surpass it.  Those around them,  once considered mentors, colleagues and advisers are now considered troglodytes.  Speaking with them is like ”talking through tar” to Jenni and Mac who are on an accelerated path – always.  Further, as they break rule number 3 they find themselves justifying their own behavior to (and with) each other, as they now are “one person in two bodies” who still speak out loud to each other, but in unison because it “feels grounding, like we’re still human in some meaningful way”.  Further they decide they are there “not … to abolish the law but to fulfill Man’s destiny”.  Yes.  They are THAT GOOD. Or so they think.

But there are consequences for breaking the rules.  Not punishments.  Consequences.

Throughout the play in every way director Heather Cohn balances precision with chaos.  Will Lowry’s set and scenic design is awash in mathematical equations, written in a steady hand and proving the undeniable.  Electronic devices are clear lucite and allow for anything since they are beholden to nothing.  Martha Goode’s sound design brings scenes crackling to life with music that is classical, indicating moments which are very calculated and decisive, straightforward and blunt.  This makes the dischord which begins once the rules are broken all the more salient and pronounced – where things once were clear and ordered they are now explosive and uncontrollable.

Similarly the acting is in perfect balance; a composed and measured Nabanita (Nitya Vidyasagar) is in perfect counterbalance to the (at first) bouncy, youthful, Mac (Isaiah Tanenbaum) and Jenni (Rachael Hip-Flores) who move quickly to manic and frenzied.   Cooper and Malcolm do fantastic work in the middle ground, showing both compassion and tolerance in the face of a technology that is terrifying, wonderful and unquantifiable.

Another strong Flux Theatre Ensemble production which melds science with sentiment and allows the “what if”s to paint a picture of possibility.  Beautiful and meaningful – not to be missed.

~~~

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There is a very telling moment which comes two thirds of the way into Mariah MacCarthy’s play The Foreplay Play which is currently being produced by CAPS LOCK THEATRE  at a site-specific location (WAY off-off Broadway) in Williamsburg.  This dramedy about the tension which builds between two couples as they tentatively (and sometimes not so tentatively) lay the foundation for a night of orgiastic bliss has many titillating moments, but the one which encapsulated this show for me was probably the least sexual of the night.

After a series of awkward missteps, false starts, jumping the gun (but not without a few hot hot, drrrrrty, breathtaking, throw-you-up-against-the-wall, take-you-right-now-on-the-kitchen-counter moments) Kyle, the sole male of the intended foursome is strumming a guitar and the quartet has just finished a rousing rendition of Springteen’s Hungry Heart.  In and of itself  Hungry Heart is a beautiful moment – each character singing with completely different motivation: some with actual hunger in their heart, some with nothing more than Springsteen Joy, and others with the taste of a memory, perhaps.  Regardless of subtext, the four voices blend beautifully, and yet perfectly naturally – the way any four people with decent singing voices might automatically take the harmonies.  They all know the words, they understand the nuances, they enjoy the camaraderie the singing produces, and the moment is binding.  The telling moment comes right after, when three of the four decide to launch into Since You’ve Been Gone.

Nic Grelli, Lindsey Austen,Diana Oh and Parker Leventer (Photo by Kacey Stamats)

“I don’t know this song,” pouts Anika (Lindsey Austen) and soon her pout erupts into full-on anger.  She has a tantrum, runs from the room, and leaves the others feeling awkward, embarrassed, perhaps guilty, but – let’s be honest – a little smug.  We know something you don’t know.

Herein lies the key to good group ANYTHING – but for the purposes of this review we’ll stick to group sex.  In order for it to work, everyone has to be in harmony.  Everyone has to feel comfortable.  Everyone has to know where to pick up, where to leave off, where to come in, and when to hold back.  Moving forward when someone clearly doesn’t “know the words” to a certain song (read – doesn’t know the rules of a certain situation) is only going to lead to tantrums.

What The Foreplay Play illustrates and illuminates beautifully is that bringing the fantasy (again, of anything, but specifically group sex) into the real world is a daunting process even if all the clothes are laid out neatly on the bed for you beforehand.  Just because you have a piano and ten fingers doesn’t mean you’ll suddenly sit down and start playing Mozart.  Even further – simply because you can play the piano doesn’t mean you’ll be able to play a complete performance of all the Chopin Etudes.  And so – just because you like sex doesn’t mean you can have it with three other people you’re fond of without someone hitting a harsh note.  Perception is easy.  Reality is hard.  Or … let’s go with “difficult”.

The foursome of The Foreplay Play is made up of  Kyle (Nic Grelli) who is sweet, earnest and charming.  He’s manly and studly but he’s gentle enough to break down and fall apart when emotions overwhelm him.  (And this night is rife with overwhelming emotions of all types).  Kyle’s girlfriend is Anika (Lindsey Austen) - a yearning, tentative girl who fancies herself experimental but, when push comes to shove, can’t get out of her own way far enough to move past “vanilla” (which, to this crowd, is more of an insult than a subtle flavor choice).  They are hosted for the evening by Anika’s co-worker Isabel (Diana Oh) who is a power house of sexuality and seduction.  While Izzy doesn’t actively set out to seduce everyone in the room she is somehow the center of the sexual vortex here as both Kyle and Anika find themselves longing for her in ways that (if you’re an audience member with any sort of pulse) will have you catching your breath.  The quartet is rounded out by Isabel’s live-in lover Kelly (Parker Leventer) who is sure of herself, a self-professed Dom who dominates in rooms other than the bedroom and enjoys making others feel uncomfortable, even as she insists on ground rules and guidelines for the evening.

Throughout the evening of foreplay each gets their turn to take a spin in front of the mirror, as it were.  On display this evening for all of us (and for each other) to see are each character’s most charming qualities, their most annoying habits, their sexiest urges, their most awkward discomfort.  Separately and together they all find themselves acting out, taking the lead, taking a backseat, or simply bobbing along as they watch the inevitable happen.

The cast is strong, each delivering a nuanced performance which gives you an opportunity to side with them or against them depending on the flow of the evening.  Under Leta Tremblay’s fine direction the night is hyper-real.  The play is, as I mentioned, site specific – so this Williamsburg apartment (big by New York standards but rather intimate for a play) creates an immediate fly-on-the-wall scenario.  (Be warned that seating is limited and, like a game of musical chairs, there’s a rush for seats once the apartment door opens.  Latecomers will be sitting on cushions up front.  Those with knee problems who are loathe to sitting on the floor are, unfortunately, SOL).

The intimacy of the space allows Tremblay to give the characters a whole host of real-time actions to work with – actual dinner to be prepared, actual exits from the apartment to be made.  Tremblay also deftly balances all the craziness (Twister! Knife play! Costumes and fake accents! Spin the bottle!) with a solid anchor of gravitas so that rather than feeling MacCarthy is throwing a lot at the wall to see what sticks in terms of theme this feels much more like four actual people who are twisting and turning their way through a strange encounter in order to make it fit for all involved.  Unfortunately no matter how many games of Twister they play the right combination just won’t fall into place.

MacCarthy aims for – and delivers – a night of questions rather than answers.  A night of seeking rather than finding, and a night which flips over the rocks to explore the grime underneath.  While no one gets very naked, emotionally the cast strips bare and the four individuals share intimacies on a level much deeper than the simple exchanging of bodily fluids.  Ultimately sex is besides the point.  MacCarthy, in her Playwright’s Note, admits that the play “ends up being a celebration of love, not sex”.

CAPS LOCK THEATRE, on their website, states, “We like plays where people are at both their worst and their best; where people screw each other–or themselves–over, and have to find a way to deal with it; where people’s hearts hurt, or open, or blossom.”  I’d say that The Foreplay Play does all of this – and perfectly.

~~~

THE FOREPLAY PLAY

A new play by Mariah MacCarthy
Directed by Leta Tremblay
This play takes place at a site-specific apartment in Williamsburg - Brooklyn, NY
Location will be disclosed to audience members upon ticket purchase

Thursdays-Sundays at 8pm

April 19-May 6, 2012

Click here for tickets

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In 2010 The Happiest Medium was thrilled to be able to be one of the media sponsors for the Planet Connections Theatre Festivity – “a place that shelters new and experienced artists who want to use their art to make a difference”.

We’re excited to be able to sponsor the festivity once again this year! Planet Connections runs from May 30 – June 24 at The Bleecker Street Theater located at45 Bleecker Street, New York, NY.

The Planet Connections Festivity is New York’s premiere eco-friendly/socially-conscious arts festival. Fostering a diverse cross-section of performances, the Festivity seeks to inspire artists and audiences both creatively and fundamentally, in a festive atmosphere. At the heart of the Festivity are like-minded individuals striving to create professional, meaningful theatre, film, music and art while supporting organizations, which give back to the community at large.  

In the month leading up to the festivity we’ll be bringing you our fun feature “5 Things To Know About The Show Before You Go” – a chance for every one of the shows to give you a taste of what they have in store for you!  We’ll also be reviewing a selection of the offerings so check back daily to see what we thought!

Just follow this link to get to the Planet Connections site.  There you’ll be able to see all the great things that are being offered … the free staged readings, the full scale productions, the special events … and don’t forget to check out what’s going on in the Festivity Lounge where there will be free entertainment such as singers, comedians, readings and art exhibits benefiting local charities. You can also buy some refreshments!   And if you join on FOURSQUARE you may win a prize!

So come be a part of the great work that’s being done by the amazing team at Planet Connections!

We’ll see you there!

Related Posts:

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• Celebrating Life, Love, And Connections – Congratulating Carol Carpenter

While there’s nothing to indicate that Sondheim influenced Larry Kunfosky’s Your Boyfriend May Be Imaginary in any way (in fact, extensive interviews with Larry Kunofsky beforehand never once included references to The Man or the the musical I’m about to cite) we all have our own personal archives.   To me, there was an undeniable Company element (albeit an updated one) which manifested early on and lingered for most of the play.  Perhaps unintentionally Kunofsky has, in Your Boyfriend, offered up the city which Another Hundred People paid (somewhat contemptuous) homage to – the “city of strangers” with the people who “meet at parties through the friends of friends who they never know”. And as main character Marci spends the night living out the line: “I looked in vain”, another hundred people just got off of the train.

In other words – New York and its parties and crowds and social pecking order hasn’t really changed much in the 40 years since Sondheim wrote of the swarming masses of New Yorkers who gather and pretend to socialize when really they’re just desperately trying to be seen, and be seen being seen.   Your Boyfriend tosses main character Marci (an absolutely perfect Darcy Fowler) into this muddle of humanity although (by her own affectation and admission) it’s the last club in which she’s interested in truly having membership.  She’s only out on this buzzing Saturday night because it’s her six month anniversary with her boyfriend and (despite plans) he’s MIA.  His lack of phone, real address and other oddities give her little choice but to brave a tenuous labyrinth of  parties in order to seek out acquaintances who may or may not know where her “off-the-grid” boyfriend may be.  However, since Marci herself is a bit off the grid no one quite believes that this relationship exists – even as one character, Beth, concedes “Her story is elaborate.  Even if it’s fictional it’s layered … and that in and of itself is a feat.”

Clearly Marci’s not a party girl, so these parties are more hostile than hospitable to her skittish temperament.  She tries to remain as invisible as possible (“I’m not here” is her mantra of the evening) … the idea is to just get what she needs and get out. In fact,  she’s so out of her element that it hadn’t even occurred to her to dress for her destinations.  She’s wearing what she slept in, which is what she wore the day before, and she has no compunction admitting that she hasn’t showered.    This is just one of the quirks which sets Marci apart from this writhing mass of cell phones and hot music and cool eccentricity she continually encounters which hums and babbles and hugs and waves and clumps together and breaks apart but does little to actually connect on any level that matters.

“It’s kind of like Alice in Wonderland,” Kunofsky had said in his interview with me, “if Alice were an adult, had a boyfriend, couldn’t find him, and jumped into the Rabbit Hole that is all the parties that people are having in the Big City on a happening Saturday night.” And while there is a fish-out-0f-water element that parallels Alice’s there is also no denying that the “other”ness of Marci is an echo of what so many city-dwellers feel and have felt since … since they began admitting their feelings to their therapists.  But not to their friends.

Your Boyfriend May Be Imaginary featuring Zach Evenson, Debargo Sanyal, & Darcy Fowler Photo credit Meg Sturiano

Marci is one main character – the other main character is not so much a person but The Crowd itself which surrounds her.  This crowd of ubiquity babbles random things, snatches of which can be heard during scene changes, and it’s the random stuff that’s funny and inconsequential and yet somehow very important; because in this miasma of humanity where Marci is sifting and searching, these snatches of words are as valuable as anything else she will hear.  In other words: not very valuable at all.

Sometimes bits of the crowd break off to interact with her, but for the most part The Crowd remains a solid mass of something she not only cannot penetrate but – more importantly – something she wishes to have no part in.  While she’s present she’s certainly not included.  Those giving the parties would have her believe otherwise; there’s the self-centered Cassandra who - surprised to see Marci – greets her with a “Marci! I’m sorry I haven’t called or seen you or kept in touch with you in any way.  I’m so glad you’re here.” It’s like this everywhere she goes: she keeps being assured that she was invited … informally of course because really the process is so random.  More of a “you know you’re always welcome, even though we actually haven’t talked to you in … what?  Four years?” And another hundred people just got off of the train.

Cassandra (played by Risa Sarachan)  is vain and self-centered, she preens and pouts and simultaneously demands your attention while dismissing you. She has nothing to offer Marci except a lamp which Marci then carries with her throughout the play.  What seems like an odd and superfluous gesture is really a symbol of all the empty, unnecessary (and useless) pieces of comfort New Yorkers so often exchange – it’s an “OhMyGodI’mSoSorryYou’reGoingThroughThis” and a “LetMeKnowIfYouNeedAnything / WhatCanIDoToHelp?!?” empty token that, once offered, alleviates the giver of their guilt but is about as useful as … an unplugged bedside lamp in the streets of New York.

Marci, however, dutifully carries this pointless gift which serves partly as a talisman, partly as a flashlight which (unplugged after all) only underscores how useless it is at illuminating her way.  It is a metaphor for all her friends who don’t know how to help her becuase they can’t understand how she needs to be  helped.

Director Meg Sturiano makes some terrific choices that keeps the crowd feeling alive and pulsating while never being overwhelming for the small stage.  Sturiano keeps the pacing quick and energetic – allowing the surreal to coexist in the same arena as the real, which is the perfect way to encapsulate the New York scene. With repetitive moves that are distinctly choreographed to encompass everything an evening out might require (from “come here” to “go away”) Sturiano has the crowd speed up, slow down, and do exactly what Kunofsky requires of them without pulling focus from whatever may be going on at any given moment.  When necessary they fulfill the requirements of a Greek chorus, and even when not “in use”, they are never underutilized.

Characters bubble up from the crowd, distinguishing themselves, in order to move the plot along.  Besides the self-centered Cassandra there’s Toddwhatshisname (Debargo Sanyal) who is a Chelsea boy and comes complete with a trademark phrase and an inability to know his boundaries. Paul and Paula Paul (Jordan Mahome and Danielle Slavick)  make a charming couple who are just contentious enough to make you understand why the party they’re throwing is to celebrate their divorce, but just amicable enough to make you believe that they’d feel the need to celebrate this moment together rather than apart.  It’s here where Marci bumps into Hunky Dave (Quinlan Corbett) the man she’s been accused of stalking and the base-note that creates the whiff of “why don’t I believe you?” when it comes to Marci’s story about her missing beau.  Marci – so misunderstood by her “friends” – reads as desperate enough to concoct someone rather than live in the tragic wake of the rejection of a (hunky) man.

Ultimately this long evening wraps up with a shift in tempo and tone; Marci escapes the frey of the scene which exists OUT THERE and exchanges it for the one that exists IN HERE.  While the final scene serves as a calming ballast to the hectic frenetics which came before it, and while the conversation between Marci and her (perhaps only true) friend Denise (Maya Lawson) is sweet, endearing, and realer than any moment of the play, it does threaten to stretch out longer than a production of this length can handle and borders on overkill.  But then, just in time, the truly charming last few lines exchanged keep the play from toppling over.

In the end, You Boyfriend May Be Imaginary is a perfect reflection of the missed opportunities an overly social life can create.  It  illustrates the ironic fact that no matter how many people you surround yourself with, if you don’t make that connection on a deep level the person you’re telling everyone you are may as well be imaginary.

~~~

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• Larry Kunofsky Take 2 … Still Imaginative – Nowhere Near Imaginary
• Larry Kunofsky – Unimaginably Imaginative. But NOT Imaginary – Take 1
• Early Risers / Night Owls … Come With Me – Help Save UNDER St. Marks
• Lickin’ With Bricken – An Interview With Bricken Sparacino
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HA! is a trio of Rich Orloff’s most popular and acclaimed one-act comedies:  Oedi, a parody of Oedipus Rex, The News From St. Petersburg, a Chekhovian spoof set in 1905 Russia, and The Whole Shebang which portrays the entire universe as just a college student’s masters thesis on another dimension.  What they all have in common is a talented cast, and a base-note of comedy which ranges from the absurdly silly to the thoughtfully facetious giving audiences an opportunity to indulge in every kind of laugh from the titter to the snort to the guffaw. Coincidentally all three plays just happen to take place at 4:00 in the afternoon.

Each member of the talented cast has an opportunity to play multiple roles throughout the evening as they traverse from ancient Rome to the well appointed living room of the Russian Aristocracy, to, ultimately, some nebulous region that sits high above the universe we call home.

Gerrianne Raphael, Mike Smith Rivera, Evan Thompson and Jarel Davidow

Oedi takes us to the land of Thebes, where the king is meeting with his advisor (and brother-in-law) Creon as well as the blind old seer, Tiresias.  As delicately as possible they are trying to explain the situation Oedipus got himself into when he fulfilled the prophecy.  No spoilers here – poor Oedi killed his dad and married his mom, Jocasta.   While he’s devastated and trying to deal with this news it seems Jocasta takes it all in stride.  In fact, she wasn’t in the dark at all – and sees marrying her son as simply in keeping with tradition.  ”Look at the Gods,” she proclaims. “The immortal Zeus has slept with his half-sister, his quarter-sister, his sixteenth-sister. If our own immortal gods get to diddle their relatives, why can’t you?” When Oedi protests Jocasta remarks, “Must you make everything so complex, Oedipus?”

Oedi is filled with rim-shots and one-liners; broad humor which swings wide and never fails to telegraph a wink to the audience.  This serious story is all in good fun, and with Mike Smith Rivera playing Oedi as an overblown comical fist-shaker the audience can’t help but laugh their way through this one-act.

The News From St. Petersburg finds the landowner Fyodor and his wife Anya, discussing what passes for the important matters of the day: does the sky turn black or does it turn a dark blue towards evening? The rest of the conversation is a delightful poke at Chekhovian text as neighbors with multi-syllabic names are referenced.  Aekseyevich Kulibin and Semon Penteleyevich Rogov and Ivan Konstantinovich Begushkin just to name a few. After which Fyodor muses “I hear that in America, there are people named Bob.”

Into this discussion comes their friend, the good doctor Nikolai who is there to deliver news of revolt and uprising and revolution.  Sasha the servant tells of freedom marches, and the entire household is turned upside down by the news.  At least, it appears to be.  By the time the good doctor leaves fact is separated from fiction and we find that the news which traveled through the lower ranks was more idealization than realization. Fyodor and Anya are as they were in the beginning, completely unaffected by the events and, just as when we met them, riding out the late winter afternoon until dinner.

The final piece of the evening is The Whole Shebang – a clever situation that gives us a student delivering his master’s thesis. Without fanfare he explains that he devised a “self-sustaining and self-evolving, matter-based ecosystem in a universe of three dimensions. And so I created the heavens and the earth.” From here the entire act fashions this nerdy, eager student as The Almighty Creator who must now define and defend all he has created to his two professors.  While discussing various aspects of the universe, ultimately the entire success boils down to the creation of human beings.  Two people are brought in as examples and even though somehow they’re the wrong 2 subjects (and don’t give as exemplary a picture as the student would have hoped) the conversation which ensues is both amusing as well as clever and a great fable that holds up a mirror to humanity and speaks to our reliance as a species.

Jarel Davidow, Anne Fizzard, Gerrianne Raphael, Mike Smith Rivera, and Evan Thompson play well off each other and create a wonderful atmosphere where Orloff’s lines are able to zing and bounce for best comic effect.  Each actor does a solid job of bringing new spark to each role; every time the lights come up they have completely transformed themselves and yet  consistently  deliver  laughs.

Just as thoughtful as it is funny, HA! is a well staged show that features a terrific cast.  Definitely a great night of theatre that has as many lessons as it does laughs.

~~~

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You’ve read part one.  You clamored for another round!  What could be more fun that sitting in on a conversation between me and brilliant playwright Larry Kunofsky as we discuss the road that led to his upcoming production of Your Boyfriend May Be Imaginary?

Last time Larry explained how everyone has an imaginary component (in a way) … and he explained how his main character, Marci, spends a Saturday evening running from party to party in New York City looking for the man she’s dating — only to discover she possibly didn’t know him as well as she thought she did.  We also got into what lies at the heart of Larry’s writing. Good stuff!

Today we’re talking about how Larry and The Management came to partner up for Your Boyfriend May Be Imaginary,  Larry references Tolstoy AND Voltaire (in the same answer!) and gives us a little taste of what your dinner conversation will be like after you see his play.  So, grab your drink, settle in, and enjoy … Larry Kunofsky, Part 2:

Let’s talk for a minute about finding the right company to produce your work. Your Boyfriend May Be Imaginary is being produced by The Management. What are some of the great things about having another company produce your work as opposed to doing it through your own company, Purple Rep?

Well don’t get me wrong, I am committed to Purple Rep and have grown to love producing, even though I know that I’m not anywhere near the kind of producer that I want to become just yet. But having someone else produce my play – which is something that hasn’t happened in a while on my own home turf here in NYC – that ROCKS!

I feels so decadent! I can be Just The Playwright! I feel like a Roman Emperor! Where are the slave girls to dangle grapes over my gaping mouth?!

And if you knew The Management’s budget, you’d be laughing at me here, not with me (which you might have been doing already). This is not a decadent company. They are workers, and they have a guerrilla approach to doing more with less (in terms of budget, at least), and this is inspiring to me. When Purple Rep grows up, I want it to be just like The Management. But also different.

I have been Just The Playwright in the room at other times in my career and have felt a weird compulsion to get up and apologize for being there. But not with The Management. They were excited about me and by my work from the beginning, and their sincerity and warmth in making me feel welcome in their “home” has never wavered – just as the rigor of their talents has never seemed to diminish.

Purple Rep is still evolving (and is designed to have an ever-floating repertory of theatre artists on board), and everyone who takes part in a Purple Rep project is in our home because I opened the door and asked them to come in. With The Management, there was already a family in this home, and I’m the guest. But I love this family. I’m very familiar with Josh’s work as a playwright and with Megan Hill’s work as an actor. And to have them involved in the production of my play is deeply meaningful to me.

Working with The Management has allowed me to collaborate with director Meg Sturiano and to get to know her as an artist and human being. This has been among the very most satisfying aspects of this experience for me. Meg is an amazing director. Her process is so active, kinetic, muscular, and her approach and her spirit and her enthusiasm has been so nurturing and empowering.

But the whole family thing means more to me than the relief of not having to produce my play myself. Nicole & Josh Beerman just had a baby boy. And we looked at pictures during rehearsal the other day, and we were kvelling! Maybe I’ve been the curmudgeon-in-residence at other times in my life, but it has been so lovely to get to know this family and to be a guest in their home.

It seems that every off off Broadway production company I know of has some sort of mission statement that goes beyond “we do great plays” and fine tunes it down to: “We do plays centered on promoting XYZ” or “We produce plays that take place in a certain part of the world” or “a certain time in history” or “come from the perspective of X” As both a playwright – who looks to work with other companies – as well as someone who started his own production company, what are your thoughts about that? And did it make finding a company for Your Boyfriend May Be Imaginary easier or more difficult?

Well the second part of this question is easier to answer, so I’ll start there:

The Management was actively looking for new plays by other playwrights. The first show of The Management that I saw was MilkMilk Lemonade by company member Josh Conkel (of whom I’ve already proclaimed my love), but starting last year with Crystal Skillman (if I say I love her, too, does this make me seem like I love everybody? [a little bit ... yes] Because I don’t, but when I do love somebody, and/or their work, I shout it from the rooftops, and I really do love Crystal) [Well then that's just necessary, I would say ...], and her play CUT, The Management was clearly looking beyond Josh and his work.

But I didn’t approach them, they approached me. Actually, they approached me after they approached Adam Szymkowicz.

Well, that’s quite an honor!  Like being the one Brad Pitt chose after he chose Jennifer Aniston …  That makes you Angelina.

Adam Szymkowicz is one of the finest playwrights I know, whose work is always elegant, funny, inventive, and heartbreaking. He also has a blog on which he interviews playwrights – and this blog has become an amazing resource, and a way to validate lots of lesser-known playwrights, as well as a way of informing the public about the inner workings of some better-known playwrights, too.

He also happens to be among my very favorite people in the world. I was the Best Man at his wedding, a fact that I never tire of informing people about.

I think originally, The Management asked Adam if he’d send them one of his own plays, but somehow that didn’t work out (I think the dude has, like, FIVE off-Off Broadway plays lined up, which has got to be a record!), and then I think he suggested his wife, Kristen Palmer’s play The Heart In Your Chest, which I think The Management is strongly interested in, but it might have been too daunting for this season. And so then Adam suggested that they read Your Boyfriend May Be Imaginary.

I don’t think that The Management knew back then what a close friend I am to Adam, and so they figured, wow, this dude Adam’s interviewed hundreds of playwrights, and then he just throws the name Larry Kunofsky out there, so this dude Kunofsky must be the fanciest playwright in town.

I know that’s what I would think!

Which, of course, is hilarious, because I am so not fancy.

Well, a little bit.  Some times you’re a little bit fancy.  But I’m sorry … go on …

And so then, Meg Sturiano, Management company member and director-in-residence emailed me, asking for the script.

Now, I have a personal ethic about rapid response to all communications, both personal and professional. If you contact me, whoever you are, I will get back to you within a day, or I will commit Seppuku or something.

Damn, Larry.  That’s hardcore.

There must be something Calvinist hidden within my Modern Orthodox Jewish upbringing.

Oh, wait … you said “seppuku”.  I thought you said … ah … never-mind.  Keep going …

However, when Meg first wrote to me, I was in rehearsals for The Un-Marrying Project during the first season of Purple Rep. And I was trying to wear all these hats on my one head: playwright, Artistic Director, “Producer,” money-borrower, favor-caller-in-er, plumber, etc., that I actually took a couple days to get back to Meg, whom I hadn’t even met, and, really, this goes against the very core of my belief system, but Meg didn’t know that, so she must have figured, wow, this dude is so fancy that he doesn’t even want me to read his work, which is hilarious because I used to spend way too much time BEGGING for directors and producers to read my work.

So Meg wrote back in this really humble way, apologizing for asking to read my script again, but if the very notion wasn’t too offensive to me, it would be an honor for her just to hear back from me, or something like that. And then I was just too embarrassed about the whole thing to even acknowledge how I violated my own ethics in my rapid-responsibilities. So I just emailed her the play with, I think, no comment. Which probably made me seem even more aloof and remote.

I’m on the edge of my seat  … I can’t wait to hear what happens next!

But then Meg and the company read the script, and they actually liked it, and then they met me in person, and we hung out, and they realized that I wasn’t really a jerk, it just seemed that way via email. And then we started working together.

All of that is not to suggest that one should act like a jerk on purpose, because chances are, you will be successful at coming across as a jerk that way. I was just illustrating how, despite so many conflicting factors at play, it was the right place and the right time for me to collaborate with The Management.

Wow. That was just the answer to the second part. I haven’t even gotten to the first part. I may not be fancy, but I am verbose.

And, a bit hypnotic because at this point I’m not sure I remember my question.  I think it was about how every company has a fine-tuned mission statement and how does that affect you submitting your work to other companies.  But that was just a jumping off point.  Get around to it when it makes sense to.

I’m actually very bad at submitting my work to other companies, because I’ve been writing plays for a long time and it seems that the only way to get your work seen by the right people is when they come looking for you.

The problem with this philosophy is that this particular instance is the ONLY time this has ever worked out for me.

So I’ve got to get better at submitting my work to other companies. Both as an individual playwright with a bunch of unproduced plays, and as the Artistic Director of a (VERY!) small theatre company with a tiny budget (picture me walking around clothed only in a barrel held up by suspenders, because that’s my new look for next year) that is eager to co-produce with other individual artists and producing entities, my need to collaborate more with as many other theatre companies and theatre artists as possible is essential for me to remain even a blip near the radar screen.

The Off-Off Broadway scene is really, really happening right now. There are a lot of companies doing really, really fine work. I love Flux Theatre Ensemble and The Amoralists, and Nosedive, and Packawallop, and Boomerang, and Blue Coyote, and Rising Phoenix Rep, and whatever’s happening at The Brick is always exciting, to name just the companies I didn’t have to spend even one second thinking about.

When I look back at the last sentence I just wrote, I don’t really think about the “sensibility” or the “aesthetics” of these companies, I think about how I love the plays that these people produce, the playwrights, actors, directors, designers who tend to work with these companies, and basically, I like the people who work at these companies. I dig them as people. I grok them, if you will. (I use that word in a lot of my plays. Look it up. Seriously.)

I’ll do you one better:

I think that’s really what it’s about. And yet, these companies do have a very specific sensibility and aesthetic, and my own company, Purple Rep, most emphatically does, too!

But it’s important to remember that when I become interested in a theatre company (and I think this is true for most people), it’s rare that I care first and foremost about their mission statement. If I like the plays that the company produces (and they have to produce, not just develop! Because institutionalized Play Development is the NINTH CIRCLE OF HELL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!), and I like the people involved, then I’m interested. But it’s good when a company has a very clear mission. It makes them look like they know what they’re talking about.

There’s another lovely tension between the idea that everyone working consistently Off-Off Broadway is part of (in a sense) one company, and the fact that, as it appears on the surface, different companies do different things. Another way of saying this is: the Off-Off Broadway community (in which I am deeply honored and proud to participate) is often just a bunch of tiny communities. And other times, it really is one community. And that tension gives us balance; it’s a good thing that both things are true. Sometimes the tiny company- or project-based communities are like ghettos, but their separate-ness brings diversity and richness to what we do. So sometimes I’ll work in my little Purple Rep shtetl or visit the ‘hood around the corner. As an Artistic Director, I aim towards a fidelity to the ideals on which my company was founded, but as a playwright, I have a more promiscuous attitude – I want to crawl into bed with all kinds of companies. Please Note: This last bit is a metaphor. I don’t want theatre companies considering my work to think that sleeping with me is a requirement.

Noted.

Karen, do you think anyone is still reading this at this point?

Well, I am.  You are.  Presumably Adam Szymkowicz stuck around.

I mean, it was a great question, but the answer makes War And Peace look like a novella. But to paraphrase Voltaire, I didn’t have time to give you a short answer, so I only gave you a long answer.

Look at me.

It’s come to this now.

I’m the guy who goes around paraphrasing Voltaire.

Sometimes I worry about myself.

Back to your play. I’m going to give you a scenario. A group of friends go to see your play and then go out to dinner afterwards. What do you think they will find the most interesting part of the play to chew on over dinner? What will be that one point that they all either have varying opinions on, or the one part that (hopefully) gives them the most to think about?

Well I like to personally attend all the performances (or as many as possible) of my plays in production, so since I’ll be there, I think that this group will no doubt speak, to some degree, about my play, at least at first, but then they will no doubt spend the rest of their evening remarking upon how strikingly handsome I am. Sure, the guy’s talented, I can hear them saying, but damn, he’s SO GOOD LOOKING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Can we see that picture again?

Oh wait, does this imaginary scenario take place in something similar to reality?  Well, I wasn’t specific, but let’s go with “yes”. If so, I feel that I should revise my answer.  Not necessary, but I won’t be the one to stop you.

Honestly, I think that this is the PERFECT question for this play in particular.  Thank you.

There’s no intermission in this play, so it’s technically a full-length one-act, but there are two very separate parts of the play, both with distinct energies. It starts out pretty manic and antic and frenzied and kooky and almost dreamlike and surreal, and surreal in a way that feels almost hyper-real, and then it gets MORE manic and MORE antic and MORE frenzied and MORE kooky (or kookier) and MORE dreamlike and surreal and hyper-real, but then… after all of that… it shifts gears.

As the play winds down (after it gets to a point where you think it might run off the rails), as the play begins to prepare you to usher yourselves out into the night, the play becomes quieter and slower and softer of tone and spirit and more wistful and more somber, but also still funny, but funny in a whole different way.

And this new and different energy that the play finds in itself becomes almost like a whole second act, or perhaps even a whole other play entirely.

And I think that’s what people will be talking about later that evening. That transformation. And how… transformative…. It was. I really do!

How the play was one thing, and how it reached a fever pitch of that one thing, and how it then became another thing altogether. And how those energies affected them, these imaginary friends of yours, and, one hopes, the actual audience, as well.

Maybe some people won’t dig it, that shift. But I bet some people will. And perhaps some people will greatly prefer one of these two energies to the other. But I bet some people might connect deeply to the way that the energy went one way and then went another way. Maybe this evening of theatre and its shifting energy will remind people of the day they just had. Because some days are like that. And personally, any day when I see a play that has its own distinct energy, it changes the rhythm of my whole day. I know that theatre – really great theatre – can change your life. My simple hope is that my play will just change your day. In a good way, of course. And I want to say one more time that, yes, this is what I truly expect people to be talking about after they’ve seen my play.

But all my plays are about intimacy and tenderness and the need to connect, and how DIFFICULT all these things can be, and so if all I do with my life is to help generate the conversation of strangers towards these themes, then, despite what my teachers predicted, I won’t have been a complete and total screw-up.

Bonus Question! (but mandatory). You can answer this last one any way you want – it’s free form! Leave me with some last thoughts about the play, tell me a joke, give me a recipe, create a haiku, promote your favorite cause … tell me the best purchase you ever made. Really, the sky is the LIMIT! Anything that you feel like sharing - GO!

I’ll just say one more thing:

The last time I saw you, you told me that I was your favorite playwright.

I stopped you, and said, REALLY?! (Because I had to double-check. We had both been drinking.)

And you said, yes, you, Larry Kunofsky, are my favorite playwright.

And I responded to that by saying, I bet you say that to all the playwrights! But I think that was my way of being un-ready to handle the compliment you were giving me.

So I have a follow-up question that I will both ask of you and then answer for you:

Question: Do you know what that means to me?!

Answer: Everything. It means everything to me.

_______________

Well, the conversation doesn’t end there, but the interview does, my lovelies!  So — now that this 2 part interview has stimulated your brain and given you all sorts of breadcrumbs about Your Boyfriend May Be Imaginary don’t forget to mark your calendars and buy your tickets now.  And be sure to stop back and read the review!

~~~

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Related Posts:

• Your Boyfriend May Be Imaginary – A Epic Quest Through Another Hundred People
• Larry Kunofsky – Unimaginably Imaginative. But NOT Imaginary – Take 1
• A Play Takes Flight – The Making Of “Caitlin And The Swan”
• The Myths We Need -Or- How To Begin: The Play You Need To See
• The Un-Marrying Project: Passion Is Easy – Commitment Is Hard

The Real Thing featuring Synge Maher & David Nelson

Art imitates life.  Life imitates art.  Often times -for the life of a playwright- the lines are so blurred that it’s almost impossible to distinguish realism from hyper-realism or acting from genuine feeling and emotion.  When fact and fiction can no longer be untangled it isn’t always easy to recognize if the words you’re hearing are being spoken from the heart or simply being recreated from a scene plucked from the past.   Somewhere amid all this, one would hope to find The Real Thing.

Written by Tom Stoppard and first performed in 1982 The Real Thing hardly shows signs of being a 30 year old play; in fact Boomerang Theatre Company’s production directed by Cailin Heffernan now playing at The Secret Theater in Long Island City is vibrant, cunning, engaging and smart.  It brims over with the kind of energy that makes live, independent theatre so absolutely vital and important, and throughout the 2 hour show everything comes together to make what amounts to a gift to the audience.

The play centers around two British couples who are bound by marriage but straining against those binds.   Who exactly is married to whom isn’t directly obvious at first as Stoppard creates a slight of hand by giving us a play within a play as the first scene.   It’s enjoyable and weighty with plummy words and an idiosyncratic male lead, but it does teeter dangerously close to having the ability to turn grating should it go on for too long.  No sooner does the needle veer into the red does the scene end and the next scene reveals (slowly at first, which is the charm of it) that what was just witnessed was a play written by Henry (Aidan Redmond), one which is then poked at by his wife Charlotte (Valerie Stanford) and Max (David Nelson) who only moments before played husband and wife.

Max’s wife Annie (Synge Maher) soon arrives to round out the foursome and as the two couples chatter and regroup it becomes clear that Annie and Henry have been having a searing love affair, one which Annie insists they make public so that they can move on and be together.

What ensues over the next hours is a clever weaving of pure human need at it’s basest.  Love rises and falls, and with it – trust.  Marriages unform and reform, strong, then weak as passion is no longer enough to keep nagging thoughts away.  And, as promised, the first scene is played over and over again in various forms as each character finds themselves imitating the art that was either a foreshadowing or an homage to these lives.

The Real Thing featuring Aidan Redmon & Synge Mager

Through it all, Stoppard finds ways to display wonderful moments of thoughtfulness that come across as neither pedantic nor preachy, simply as the kinds of conversations people have when they are at the crossroads – not once but several times over.

Cailin Heffernan’s direction is marvelous; so many of the defining traits of the main characters are unpleasant, and their motives are selfish, however Heffernan summons a duality in each character so that they are always understandable, always relatable – if not in deed then at least in motive.

The entire cast is amazing. Aidan Redmond’s Henry is absolutely fantastic. Here is a man who struggles with his inward demons, often casts them off onto others, and yet still has the ability to take a moment and guide his daughter through the minefields of early adulthood.  Redmond plays Henry with the kind of sneer that makes you want to leave your phone number tucked into his back pocket – even as you walk away muttering about how conceited he is. Synge Maher as Annie and Valerie Stanford as Charlotte play their parts perfectly – each wed to him and wife to him — differently because they themselves are as different as can be.  Yet each the perfect balance to Redmond and just what he needs at a particular moment of his life.

Special mention goes to Zach Calhoon who plays Billy – he plays the young man vying for Annie’s affections with all the acting back-flips that any actor would use when trying to impress his co-star; and while the part is meant to be showy Calhoon pulls it off without overdoing it.  He is a joy to watch.

With just a few shows left, The Real Thing should not be missed.  Playing at The Secret Theater, don’t let this show be a secret too long.

~~~

Boomerang Theatre Company presents
THE REAL THING
by Tom Stoppard; directed by Cailin Heffernan

The Secret Theatre
4402 23rd Street
Long Island City, NY 11101

Click Here for tickets

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You may think my life is all about going to shows, sitting in the dark, absorbing — going back home … writing reviews.  It is NOT.  My life is about highlighting, showcasing and celebrating the talented people of the independent entertainment world that I am lucky enough to experience.   I only know how to do that one way: by knowing their work first, and then – if it works out – by meeting them for interviews, then seeing them socially … then interviewing them again.  It helps when I can know the artist from the inside out – Know Them: Know Their Work.  In turn: Know Their Work … Understand How To Distill It To An Audience.  Voila - suddenly it’s all second nature.

Larry Kunofsky and I started out like any playwright/reviewer.  But we soon learned that we had a lot to say to each other. A LOT.  Larry is many things: a playwright, a thinker, a brilliant man.  He’s as much an interviewer as an interviewee, and that’s what makes for a good give and take.  In a few weeks The Management Theater Company will be doing his play Your Boyfriend May Be Imaginary. I had a lot to ask him.  He had a lot to tell me.  As a result I ended up with a two parter – and so did you, lucky reader.  So, grab a drink and get ready to find out why New York City on a Saturday Night can be like falling down the rabbit hole, read why every relationship has an imaginary component to it,  and, if Feist gets mentioned, play some of her music as you read. That’s what the link is for.

Love the title: Your Boyfriend May Be Imaginary.

Larry Kunofsky: Thanks, Karen. I won’t deny it, some of my titles are pretty nifty. I’ll let people like you speak to the merits of the plays themselves, but I hope that you and your readers will indulge me my little self-back-patting when it comes to Title-Pride.

If a play is sex, then a good title is foreplay. And if giving good foreplay is my legacy, I’ll accept my lot in life.

And we’re off!

Truthfully, Larry – How many imaginary boyfriends do you think are floating around out there? I bet in New York alone there are THOUSANDS. What’s your ballpark figure?

LK: I’ve never met any adult who has admitted to having an imaginary boyfriend or girlfriend. I think there are probably scores of undocumented cases of such things, but how would we quantify this? It’s kind of like trying to find out how many people cheat on their taxes.

Wait. Just got an idea for a play. An Internal Emotional Revenue Service that documents the love that we feel for others. A society in which intimacy is taxed. And your imaginary boyfriends need to be declared. That could be the next play… written by somebody else. That’s a terrible idea!

Frankly, I’ve heard worse.

LK: Your Boyfriend May Be Imaginary is not really about imaginary people. And in general, I’m much more interested in how we imagine our actual partners to be. Y’know what I mean?

No.  Tell me more.

LK: Whenever friends talk to me about their partners, it always feels so intimate, since I will never see their partners the way that they do. And perhaps we never really know how our significant others talk about us, so we ourselves are always alien to the imaginary versions of us. And then – not that I’m conducting any kind of social experiment here, but it is something that I notice a lot – I find myself comparing my firsthand knowledge of the boyfriend or girlfriend or Otherfriend in question to the version of this same person as described to me by their partners. This can often create a fascinating disconnect.

I think that even the most aware and truthful and pragmatic of lovers can’t help but impose their own meaning of their partners onto their actual partners. So, in essence, all our boyfriends and girlfriends and friends in general are imaginary, because we sometimes see the idealized version of them, and sometimes (maybe when we’re cranky and having arguments in the middle of the street; although I’ve never been party to such base behavior) we see our partners in the most hypercritical and uncomplimentary ways.

But the key to any adult relationship is getting to know the other person beyond our own perspective. It’s a yin-and-yang thing. You need to split the difference between how you see the one you love and how the one you love sees her-/himself. To love and to be loved in any meaningful way involves factoring in all these versions of one another and striving towards our most truthful selves.

I think I was putting something together there, but it all fell apart like Jenga. My brain just slapped me in the face.

No no … it stuck.  Not every Jenga brick fell to the ground. Okay.  So, theoretically, everyone is imaginary when they’re being thought of more highly than they are, or demonized somehow … the real person is somewhere in the middle of the huge pendulum swing.  I  got it.

So then, what’s going on here then? What makes everyone suspicious that this boyfriend may be imaginary? Tell me a little bit about this play and what made you write it.

LK: Ah, now I can just plug the bejeebus out of this play!

Great!

You’re Welcome, The Management!

Thanks, Karen – you’re good.

Okay.

“It’s a busy, happening Saturday night in the Big City, and everyone we know is having a party in their apartment. Apartments! Parties! People! Music! Dancing! Cell Phones! Flashbulbs! Making Out! Longing.”

Those are the opening stage directions for the script of Your Boyfriend May Be Imaginary.

We’re following Marci, a woman of good character but of low standing in the society and mini-societies within this play, as she goes from party after party looking for her missing boyfriend, or at the very least, some information that would lead her to find her boyfriend.

It’s kind of like Alice in Wonderland, if Alice were an adult, had a boyfriend, couldn’t find him, and jumped into the Rabbit Hole that is all the parties that people are having in the Big City on a happening Saturday night.

I love that.

LK: Everyone Marci encounters apologizes to her for being so busy and so out of touch. At first it seems that Marci has failed to connect with the other people in her life, but along her search, we see that everyone around her is failing and failing again to connect with anyone and everyone.

And the more Marci enquires into the whereabouts of this boyfriend that no one has ever met, the more people suspect that Marci doesn’t really have a boyfriend.

And so not only does Marci need to find her boyfriend, she has to find someone who believes her, or believes in her. And the more “clues” that she discovers about her missing boyfriend, the more Marci realizes that she’s not only looking for where her boyfriend is, but also, and even more importantly, who her boyfriend is. And these questions make her wonder who she, herself is, and where she is right now, within her own life.

It’s funny.

It’s sad.

It has mysteries and discoveries.

It has love between boyfriends and girlfriends, and it also has love within relationships that we don’t even have names for yet.

That’s Your Boyfriend May Be Imaginary.

Thank you for asking.

Really.

I’m so proud of The Management and the phenomenal ensemble for this production.

When I hear “your boyfriend may be imaginary” to me, that’s a very different subtext than “You’re lying! You don’t have a boyfriend!” It’s actually very gentle, cautious … like you’re approaching the person with a comfy blanket and some cocoa, hoping not to disturb the fantasy. Am I wrong? Are the people in this play warm, fuzzy blanket people trying to help, or are they those buzz kills just trying to be balloon poppers?

LK: This question speaks so much to my philosophy on how to be a real friend.

My mother always used to say, whenever anyone screwed up or said or did something stupid: “They mean well.” And the older I get, the more I do appreciate good intentions, and I really do see her point as deeply compassionate and forgiving.

But I also can’t deny that I find the well intentioned among us to be somewhat oppressive when they try to help us in the way they think we need to be helped (or loved, or treated in general), rather than in the way that we want them or need them to. It’s like asking someone for the time, and they give you instructions on how to build a watch.

Ha!

LK: So this is a play about someone who needs something very specific from people, but who is mostly given the other person’s version of what they think she needs, rather than what she’s asking for.

And Marci, our heroine, seems to have a long history of not getting what she really needs from people. But since she needs to find her boyfriend, she forces herself to ask others for help. The fact that most people in Marci’s life don’t help her is (I think) among the funniest and most poignant aspects of the play, but the ultimate challenge for Marci is to allow others to help her in their way until she can find someone who can help her in her way. And I think that’s a challenge for all of us. Often what people give us is not really what we need from them, but it helps if you accept what people give you, just the same. At least some of the time. Because, like my mom says, “they mean well.”

There’s a song on Feist’s latest album that goes “When you comfort me / It doesn’t bring me comfort, actually.”

And I suspect that the subtext of this song is that the First Person Narrator is missing out on something profound.

My theory is that this person (and I somehow cannot accept that Feist is singing about herself here. I’m not entirely sure why, but I have a lot of strong feelings about Feist in general, so bear with me) refuses to face the challenge of being comforted.

Perhaps how we expect or want to be comforted is too complacent, and we have to get past an outmoded comfort zone in order to find true comfort.

Isn’t that a fascinating paradox?  (It is.) Do you have Feist’s email address? (I don’t.) She needs to know about this right away!   (Maybe she’s reading this …? Possibly? We have a lot of readers !)

The main characters in my plays are usually so put-upon in their struggles for basic kindness, intimacy, understanding, that this struggle (which I admit, seems on the surface to be common and ordinary) is, in itself, heroic.

It’s my way of turning the mundane into an Epic Quest. Because I always find the struggles of someone as seemingly ordinary as Marci in her search for her boyfriend to be far more compelling than someone like Sir Galahad searching for the Holy Grail. That’s just how I’m wired.

By the end of the play (Spoiler Alert: This is NOT a Spoiler!) Marci finds someone she can help and from whom she learns to accept help and comfort and intimacy and companionship in return.

Wow, that sounds really nice!

I was going to say that Larry.  So I will: That sounds really nice!

LK: Not all of my plays have happy endings.

This play has a lot of happiness in it. But I think people will cry at the end.

Maybe that makes me sound like I think I’m All-That-and-a-bag-of-chips (as if! Wait, who am I right now? I don’t really talk like this!), (You don’t.  But you’re on a roll. ) but when I see the lovely actors in this powerful ensemble really BRINGING IT in rehearsals, I get a little verklempt myself.

So bring a hankie to Under St. Marks.

But the good thing is, it’s a Happy Cry.

And sometimes we all need a good Happy Cry.

Sometimes?  I need a good Happy Cry every other Thursday.  So, looks like I can put away my Barry Manilow Somewhere Down The Road 45 the week I’m going to see your show.

Okay.  Moving on.

I’ve seen 2 of your plays so far: The Myths We Need – or – How To Begin and The Un-Marrying Project. On the surface both those plays were acres away from each other in terms of theme, but at the heart of it the pulse that drew the audience in was the 1:1 relationship between two people be it man and woman, man and man or woman and woman. So, would you say that Your Boyfriend May Be Imaginary is similar?

Meaning – probably looks and feels different from your other works but has the same heart?

LK: This question makes me reflect deeply on the past year, Karen.

I haven’t known you all that long (even though we’ve become fast friends; a phenomenon that should happen more often between playwrights and reviewers! I mean, it’s one thing to give your friend’s work a good review, but it’s another to become good friends with someone whose work you respect and admire. And on the other end of that equation, it’s easy for me to let you in on my creative process, because I actually like talking to you and hanging out with you), but Boyfriend will be the third play of mine produced in NYC within a single year.

That’s very rare. I’m not sure I’ll be so privileged again anytime soon.

This fills me with both pride and humility.

I have some anxiety about the future of Purple Rep, my theatre company, and I also have some anxiety about finding more opportunities for myself as a playwright beyond my own company (and beyond New York City, for that matter).

But ultimately, when you’ve collaborated with the kind of talented people I’ve worked with this past year, you get really hungry for that kind of work and for those kinds of working relationships.

It freaks me out a little (not knowing where my next creative “meal” is coming from), but it also helps me focus on working for what I know will feed me, creatively – keeps my head in the game.

Maybe that was a bit of a tangent, but it was worth reflecting upon.

These three plays are a good cross-section of the kind of work that I do as a playwright.

The Un-Marrying Project plays with form (is it a film or a play or a film-within-a-play?) and is among the most politically engaged of my plays (it deals with the fight for Marriage Equality. And now it’s a “period piece,” at least in New York, but I feel that this play continues to be relevant in the questions it asks about political activism itself (particularly now, in the age of the Occupy movement), as well as the questions that the play asks of us beyond politics, as in: What does it mean to be together with someone? What does it mean to separate from someone you’ve been with for a long time? When the obstacles against connection with others are external, how does this change our internal harmony with others? And what happens when we do get what we want, politically, artistically, romantically?

The Myths We Need – or – How To Begin plays with language. It’s written in something I like to call Ole Timey Talk. And it’s part of my cycle of biblical plays, The Genesis Tapestries, which dramatizes, reinterprets, and sometimes challenges themes from the Old Testament. The plays in this cycle might seem, on the surface, to be my least personal, since they take place in different times and places than where I am in my own life, but in many ways this long-term, ongoing project comprises my most personal work, in that I’m stretching the canvas, painting in broad strokes, and seeing how these ancient stories and themes reflect my own life, and vice versa.

Your Boyfriend May Be Imaginary might seem to be the most conventional of these three plays. It has some social satire in it, but it’s basically a character-driven comedy. It’s probably most similar to my play What To Do When You Hate All Your Friends – an anti-social comedy then any of my other work. (Both plays have a bunch of parties in them, and both plays deal with the weird hierarchies we place on our friendships, relationships, and social circles), but it does play with form (more on that later), and may not be political in any way, but does ask questions about how we as individuals interact within our community, and it does play with language, in that everyone speaks in this play in what I call Bi-Polar Speak, all run-on speech, and breathless syntactical (il)logic, but ultimately, all these plays are about how we love.

We all love. And we all love differently. And in many ways we all love badly. Or, at best, we don’t love enough, or we don’t love well enough. But there is hope that we can love better. That is, in essence, what I am always, always, always writing about.

That was the long answer to your question.

Here is the short answer:

Yes.

~~~

Can’t get enough of Larry Kunofsky?  Neither can I.  That was part 1.  Part 2 is coming up soon.  It’s just as funny, thoughtful, moving and minxy as this was.  So … grab another drink, stay tuned, and get ready for more of the same (but completely different)!

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• Larry Kunofsky Take 2 … Still Imaginative – Nowhere Near Imaginary
• The Un-Marrying Project: Passion Is Easy – Commitment Is Hard
• The Team Behind “Gay Plays For Straight People (And Also Gay People)” Gives Me Some Straight Answers (And Also Some Gay Answers)
• Your Boyfriend May Be Imaginary – A Epic Quest Through Another Hundred People
• The Myths We Need -Or- How To Begin: The Play You Need To See