Poetry & Blindfolds

I am hosting the readthrough of “The Observatory” tonight and, in preparation, I wanted to jot down a couple of notes with which I could introduce the “mind” of the piece.  These notes conspired to become a full presetnation, which, because I like the thoughts contained, I offer below:

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A strong case and a relatively weak song can be made for the cliché “there’s a thin line between love and hate.”  A stronger case – and yet, due to its complexities, no songs – can be made for the barely discernable line between right and wrong.

I put it to the artists, audience and world that what determines right and wrong is not a manufactured or created morality but rather a clock.  Time will tell an intelligent person when murder is righteous and when it is an abomination.  Time will inform the individual who sleeps with someone other than their spouse whether such an act is a massive error of judgment or a miracle of an awakened and passionate heart.

Time will pass judgment on a nation obsessed with domination, invading countless other, smaller nations, killing millions and rendering the survivors as little more than free and fully expendable labor.  Indeed, time has already told you, personally, whether the nation I just described was Nazi Germany or America.

Thus, it is merely our perception that determines right and wrong.  These determinations become part of our memory, collectively and individually.  Who doesn’t remember the phrase ‘all men are created equal’?  Who remembers with the same gusto that male African Americans were deemed to be 3/5^th of a man (presumably, black women fared worse than this)?  Who doesn’t think of the Pledge of Allegiance with some reverence?  Yet, in that same mental breath, who recalls the Pledge was written by Francis Bellamy, a socialist, for a newspaper designed to sell American flags to schools? 

Half of our history in this nation had slavery.  Three-quarters had active and public discrimination.  Two-thirds were populated by women who could not vote.  Who remembers this as part of their own perception of America?

With ‘The Observatory’, I try and eradicate the tiny line between good and bad and, as a result, go a long way towards erasing the line between the dynamic duo of most plays: the protagonist and antagonist.  Either of the leads in this play could be either, and indeed they are both.  It all depends on how you define right and wrong.  Hopefully, this will at least fit your definition of entertainment.

When not practicing my deepest and most sincere humility, I am wont to occasionally troll through the internet in search of ‘Vincent Truman.’  The results that pique my interest, however, rarely have anything to do with me; the gentleman with my same name who might be an Australian long distance runner or a retiring librarian are far more interesting than some stray blog or video that mentions the version of Vincent Truman that is me.  A couple of weeks ago, I found myself fascinated by finding among a list of entrants for a screenwriting competition a play by Andrew Thompson entitled, “The Early Retirement of Vincent Truman.”

It is not my practice to reach out to (other) authors, but occasionally I will give it a shot, either half-heartedly, in the case of Gina Welch (“In The Land of Believers”), or with a mind towards one day sharing a cup of tea, in the case of Kerry Cohen (“Loose Girl”).  However, so intrigued was I with the fact that there existed a screenplay in which a fictional version of myself – OK, I’m reaching, I realize this – was the victim of early retirement that I immediately sent an email to the screenwriting folks, explaining who I was and how my name was used in the title of one of the plays under consideration.  They graciously put me in touch with Andrew Thompson, my not-even-fictional biographer.  Andrew was very kind enough to send along to me a copy of “The Early Retirement of Vincent Truman” and I thought it fair to send a copy of “The Observatory” to him.  Note: this is a common practice for me, I confess; in exchange for Ms. Cohen’s autograph on my copy of “Loose Girl”, I sent her a copy of my cartoon book, “This Is My First Time So Please Be Brutal”, which I presume is propping up one quarter of an otherwise-slanted table in the Cohen household somewhere.

Reading “Retirement” has been a very fun experience for me, and not really because my name happens to be in the title.  Rather, I had the opportunity to read a new work without a critical eye or a thought of producing it or having to learn lines; it’s been sheer entertainment.  A mental Wii.  Since Andrew has requested some sort of feedback, I have read the screenplay with my red pen at hand – but confess I have only used it to write variations on “ha ha ha” in the margins.  It’s quite a funny piece of writing – the scene in which the titular character attempts to reclaim a tie his dead friend is to be cremated in had me in stitches (Andrew, if you’re reading this, I hope this doesn’t give too much away).

Speaking (ever so fleetingly) of Wii, the wife and I were presented with one for our collective birthdays by the wife’s mother.  This mantel of white accomplishment had to be accompanied by the other mantel of white accomplishment: the wide-screen television.  Since these two objects have invaded our home, I have taken to playing virtual tennis and the wife has taken to watching the first season of “Lost.”  I cringe at the idea of “Lost” as I cringed to the idea of “E.T.” all those years ago.  Anything that popular, so goes my logical and atheistic mind, cannot be good for you.

Tomorrow will mark the day of my readthrough/workshop for “The Observatory.”  Even more than getting live feedback for the play, I am thrilled for the opportunity to have so many people I respect and have worked with in attendance.  I am still in the “fun” phase of playwrighting; the eventual production will be the nightmare phase.  But that is for another day.

As I ramp up towards the public readthrough/workshop for Draft 4 of the “The Observatory”, featuring many friends from many areas of that business called show, I am trying to figure out the best way to produce the thing (provided the workshop reveals the piece to be produce-worthy).  My own opinion is the work is quite worthy, and a significant departure from my last two plays, “Remote” and “The Tearful Assassin”, to warrant mounting for the stage.  What sets “The Observatory” apart is that it could be read or interpreted at least two very significantly different ways – either as a straightforward comedy/drama/tragedy or the imagination of a mind gone a little crazy.  And, while thinking about the play’s possible production, I realize I may have to do it fairly quickly to have the show up and over by October 2010, as there may be a fairly consuming project on the horizon.

The Museum of Science and Industry, easily my favorite museum in Chicago, is holding some sort of odd contest looking for a what amounts to a live-in exhibit for one full month.  The chosen candidate would live within the walls of the museum for a full month, learning all about what goes on and what will go on.  Upon hearing of this just recently, I made a mad dash for the computer to work on the necessitated essay, video, application and waiver forms.  I figure I’m an excellent candidate, as I see the potential and the problems of being a 24/7 inhabitant of a museum and still want to do it.

A colleague of mine, who knows I smoke, asked me how I could handle being in a non-smoking facility that long.  I confess I’m not sure.  She advised that, if nothing else, I could become an exhibit for detox, with signs on the glass box in which I would be contained bearing such legends as “hasn’t smoked in 5 days – beware.”

This thrilling and off-putting immersion would begin in the middle of October 2010, which is why my mind is swirling with ways to produce “The Observatory” prior to that time.  I figure, if the workshop goes well and I am not sent back to the drawing board, auditions could happen in a couple of weeks.  A strong, six-week rehearsal period could follow, which would still leave a four-week run prior to my disappearance into the museum.  Since I would not know until October if I was chosen (among how many, I don’t know), delaying the play’s production wouldn’t serve anyone’s interests – well, mainly mine, if I were to direct and/or be in the thing. 

And all this hinges on whether or not I could find a suitable venue.  I’m quite fond of the Charnel House, the place where I pretended to be an actor for last year’s “The Woman In Black”, due to its proximity to my own house as well as the unusual décor of the place (it was previously a funeral home) that would compliment the isolationist approach the play requires.  Barring that, there’s probably some others – Viaduct, The Theater Building, Stage Left – that I might be able to work something out. 

So, until next Friday’s workshop, I am in a holding pattern, occupying myself with gardening, home improvement and thinking of what else to do.