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The Play's The Thing (over thirty tv forum)
producers and playwrights are lost without actors and audiences...
the paradox of original playwrighting is only in seeming...
a really original artist doesn't have to worry about plagiarism because: they are original.
no real rip off artist can do as well as an original -- so then of course you get to a place where
the envious COULD have spent time perfecting their own process.
french anarchist antonin artaud "The Theatre And Its Double" -- about LIFE,
and how theater simply makes parts of life more large so as to observe them.
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Permalink Reply by mikal marques haley on -
working title..."in stereo..."
Excellent android, Dr. De Valia. It looks exactly like Christina Aguilera."
she battered her long eyelashes and blinked at the assembled press. she said something in japanese...i didn't program it.
they applauded, though.
"how did you do it? make a long story short if you can." the japanese reporter for GOPOP! smiled nervously. I thought: how old is she, sixteen is the world really getting smaller? "basically...i made A botany based life form because short term thinkers of western science are very annoying to me."
in the back room i could clearly hear hank in his office doing what he said he would do, cranking loud old black flag and ignoring us pointedly. if it had been pointed at me it would have hurt. whatever." christina gave me a lock
of her hair -- i told her what i was going to do and she said, yeah, right. using some patented botany techniques and my own plasm, i concocted --"
"your, your own, did you say, excuse me did you say 'plasm?'"
Henry ROARED from the back room.
another improbable day at 9000 Industries.
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Permalink Reply by mikal marques haley on
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The press thing went well, and in fact, i feel with humble insight that the Xeno Mariki is in fact the greatest thing that has ever been built...
I made her without human genitalia on purpose because...people are sick and i want to have it right.
but i know how to make a breeder. i am gonna, too...later. we need more staff here...
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Permalink Reply by mikal marques haley on
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to clear up questions: writing structured improvisation scenes is all about flowcharts.
in artistic improvisation the writing team shares acting credits, the acting team shares writing credits, and so forth.
so the writers create flowcharts, but as in any situation the writer and the actor share in creating the character!
as in: if Vanessa Angell had been cast, as was intended, as the lead in XENA: WARRIOR PRINCESS (c) she would have created a different character than Lucy Lawless...
(from wikipedia: "Conceived by Robert Tapert, Xena originally was supposed to die at the end of the episode Unchained Heart. However, the studio decided to expand the Hercules franchise, and Tapert chose Xena for a solo series.
[edit] Casting
The original choice to portray Xena was the British actress Vanessa Angel[5], but an illness prevented her from traveling. The role was offered to another four actresses before being given to Lucy Lawless.
Lawless became an international celebrity as Xena. She appears annually in the Xena conventions primarily sponsored by Creation Entertainment."
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Xena
in structured improvisation a mood not unlike "free jazz" comes to play with the players.
the authors create a flowchart - the characters MUST SAY x, y, z lines to get the play moving PLOTWISE...
as long as the actors know that they must say a FEW lines -- they can improvise.
character development is shared in this way: the actors know that certain lines are the motivation for the characters
-- Hollobecque:
"You two are evicted from the downstairs."
Renata: (with bored excitement) "Let's fake our own deaths."
Henri: (hapless resignation. (how was I supposed to know he went to Kenya? In the wheel well?)
structured improv is anarchistic in this way...
from wikipedia
In November 1926, Artaud was expelled from the surrealist movement, in which he had participated briefly, for refusing to renounce theater as a bourgeois commercial art form, and for refusing to join the French Communist Party along with the other Surrealists.
if you LOOK for structured improv to be defined, you will find loads of directions to JAZZ music...
jazz lends to the theatre...a sense of freedom within the structures of the proscenium in the third dimension, and a sense of freedom to make it all up and LITERALLY "play..."
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Permalink Reply by mikal marques haley on
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(radio theater is easier than video or stage. or it CAN be. a complicated and unfriendly scenario can make ANYTHING
far too expensive...for the simple reason that playing with friends is ALWAYS LESS EXPENSIVE than WORKING with angry bitter artists who demand top dollar for just BEING there. these are things we inevitably learn, if we learn...
radio theater helped an already successful series of books -- the famed Hitchhikers' series by Douglas Adams -- gain even greater notoriety, as often Adams' comedic take on scifi became even more "humourous" when read out loud by actors...
just like Shakespeare would have gone unknown without actors whose names are mostly forgotten by history...
to go on: as cheap compared to expensive camera-renting sessions a radio play can be: a teleplay can be less expensive by using GREEN SCREEN instead of, oh, New Zealand, the kalahari or whatever expensive location might have been on your mind.
with greenscreen or bluescreen technology, a little of it, well, you can shoot in a studio -- and avoid leaving garbage and ripped up sod like Peter Jackson did in his harsh disservice to the ground of New Zealand, to say little of the writing of JRR Tolkien.
so much great poetry left on the cutting room floor, so Jackson could make HIS movie...grr...)
Venus' Vengeance
(
Narr# 1 (male)
Narr# 2 (female)
Posey
Derrick
others
introduction:
derrick (v. o.):
she loves me and i love her and she loves him and no one wants to hurt
anyone so we never talk about it.
basically we are really nice people and love is most important to all three of us. people who don't value love lie and say spiteful, cruel, and untrue things. but we all love each other and we agreed to simply let it go. and that is what it is about.
(narr # 2)
with little explanation you are FLUNG. here there is a galactic Dominion.
no one chooses who they will marry -- or make love with. you get a card and you stay with that person: you have "x"amount of babies.
you woke up and it was like that.
no way! said some people, and there was shouting and pain. you live on a planet called venus; some of you decided that love and choice were more important than loyalty to Governance by --
(sound efx sound like a industrial saw going backwards. gets slowly louder, more grinding and industrial as the above monologue goes on)
(Narr: #2
years passed.
now your name is somehow last name Hara, first name Posey. your truck
looks like atruncated bullet - it is from theline of shuttles that
they were making in the eightis.
you are Posey, you are a trucker.
keep on truckin'
from: the journal of Posey Hara-
venus prime.
vengeance house.
day 174.
still nothing quite like a Christmas here.
i thought I would miss snow but I don't. I feel industrious...we all
do. Something about this place; you just feel like doing more and
thinking more...thinking is easier. M'Panza says it has to do with
magnetic fields.
Says the earth has different magnetic fields, with more tied up in
them. We were used to the way energy flowed on Earth: here there is a
different core, our auras, he believes are less influenced by things
like the grid, which is far less complicated here on Venus Prime, it
being much less developed and complicated.
Not sure if I agree with him; not sure if I disagree.
This whole fight is a lot different than the Earth resistance. I mean,
i didn't have to shoot anyone at all in the earth resistance, it was
all talk, all rational and people ended up listening to reason once we
started actually using it. This shit: it's like the wild wild west here.
Archer was almost shot yesterday.
But I am getting ahead of myself.
Currently staying here now are a bunch of people from the second wave
of immigrants, people from all over Earth, there were a lot of
Canadians in the last wave. the weirdest thing is all the girls who
have started callng themselves Venus -- it's like jennifer was back home.
This Venus is named Venus and a B-something or other.
And there is a Ramon, he is a total wise ass, very funny and he knows
all about field modulation which will be better for the crops.
And ultimately it is all about the crops; we have to eat, after all.
vibrocentric journeys...
....in stereo
stars in the water seeming
to be alone on a strange island with hardly any friends. no friends?
so lonely, no friends.
My name is Two, and I sit here in the automated city.
I can't remember, and I forgot on purpose. what a thing to remember?
so here I am in Amnesia Park.
It's basically a glass dome. I mean, there are stairs and elevators
that go down beyond this obvious surface level that i am on, and there
is music that comes throbbing up, on certain levels of this structure,
I can feel the bass emanations through the floor. but for some reason
I feel as if...there were a presence nearby i can't see, but i
feel...I always go to the edge and walk around the perimeter...
I sit here at the end of a large table. There are many seats, like a
banquet table, but I am the only person here.
Overhead, so many stars! Flickering. Twinkling. Bright. Stars, planets...
I can walk and walk in this place, and I have. Has this always been my
home? I don't remember. Don't want to. No.
I could leave this room, enter a corridor. Over the railing is a
yawning vestibule, a fountain. Lights dance in the water. lights,
glass everywhere. Even beneath my feet as I walk. Where did all this
glass come from.
i feel dry...arid, like a desert walking in this dome, this glass hotel.
i walk slowly down the corridor and let my hand gently drift across
the railing..it seems like the water is alive, but that's just the
reflection of starlight from above, from all sides.
it's a long way down.
I can press this button here--a new hum, vague and faint, in the
walls. this place is full of hums, echoes, buzzes...music plays in
faraway corridors...
elevator comes. I can see my own face for a moment. I look sad.
why do I think I look sad? I must have been happy once.
the doors slide open.
"welcome," the elevator says. The palette of destinations flashes.
i enter and press a button
"I see we have levels to go together," the elevator seems to mention
offhandedly.
it's almost heartening to have one of the talking machines say a few
words to me...i dimly remember having conversations with actual
people…dimly.... But I don't wanna get into a big long drawn out
debate with an elevator right now.
"Down, please."
...and the glass elevator begins to slide between the walls of Amnesia
City...it's a wandering voyage laterally and then vertically, then
laterally again...
"Down it is."
I like talking elevators...neat trick. But I press one of the middle
buttons to shortchange any notions of further chitchat.
The doors open, like an eye. I am at the foot of the fountain.
"Is here better, or any worse?"
I am caught off guard. "Uh, yeah, I guess." I thought i turned that
off...I step out into the atrium.
"Thank you," the contralto voice replies.
There is a moment when I am taken by the shimmering glass archway, by
the lights of the elevator dancing away down the wall.
There is someone here at the end of the cavernous walkway. I see her,
I have seen her before. what is her name? she is oblivious to me,
nodding her head and almost dancing, but not quite...she's wearing
`phones over her ears.
i could go and talk to her, but she might tell me who and where we are.
i'm not sure. I think- no, I am sure. I forgot on purpose.
at that moment -- at the moment I decide not to disturb her--
you see-i noticed her, slightly, dancing and nodding her head to her
music and looked for awhile. Here we are in Amnesia Park, this
transparent enclosure. I looked and considered speaking for awhile, as
i listened to the sound of rushing water.
when I decided -- at the very moment, the instant I decided not to
approach her, she spun on the ball of her foot and noticed me. Her
mouth opened and made an O. Then she bolted -- ran around the corner.
Mixed feelings.
II
Here I am in this clear bubble.
the stars, the black sky.
I am a runaway from prison. There were so many prisoners, I don't
remember how I escaped--we were all crammed together, so little room
to breathe…now I have been in this excellent glass fortress-- how long?
It's so different. I am who I was before, in prison, but not really.
I am wandering and there's this person!
No! Don't want to see, talk to, be with anyone. Someone to tell me who
I am.
I just want to feel the pulsations, echoes from deep below -- the
music comes from below the floor, a beautiful sort of music --
no! I don't want to see anyone now! just want to be alone!
I ran around a corner. I thought I was going to be -- at peace here,
alone. No questions! No hassles! I don't know, but I know that there
are others who might try to make up my mind for me.
I run down long hallways, take left and right turns...
There is a moving staircase that seems to flow out of the glass floor,
seamlessly. I will stop here – no steps coming to pursue me.
I like that fine.
I won't be trapped, cornered, made prisoner of any kind! No! There are
other things to do, explore, look at my reflection in the glass walls,
explore all the rooms.
Reflective surfaces all around me. Running water, canals with very
regular straight edges. I cup my hands and take a sip of the water
that flows. So clear and beautiful to taste...
this place--what is it?
It's another form of existence, I realize somehow. A spiritual asylum?
I don't know how I got here and my memories of my former life as a
prisoner are indistinct and fading…But here -- here is a different story.
All I have are the prison clothes I'm wearing – `phones.
music. how do I somehow know this music that emanates from the
underneath of this place, from some basement chamber?
Two.
Who cares? meanwhile, I can find my room. "My room".
All that means is that I have returned to the same cubicle in this
glass dome structure on more than one occasion.
I usually just find myself there. It's somewhere nearby. But...I just
want to stop here and look at this fountain.
There's something about water under pressure. It – at the top of the
fountain - is almost dancing and hypnotic.
And as I gaze at the pinnacle of the water jet, I observe the
curvature of the dome, the reflection of the inside of this place, the
stars, the multitude of stars...! It's peaceful here...like there is
something to do, but no hurry, no rush to do it...
I feel that it would take only the slightest bit of concentration, and
i could rise, like a cloud of steam, and pass through the levels above
me, floating...
The fountain is mysterious. There's a round crystalline base, with a
canal that leaves it and oases into a lagoon, twinkling and gurgling,
past my feet. I could get in and swim if i wanted to, but i don't want to.
© 2012 Created by Bill Hayes.
