Sometimes You Just Need a Good "F%&@ You" (Ruminations on Making It, Part 1)

She handed me a poem to critique. When I was teaching writing, I always tried to read my students’ work before they handed it in for a grade to give them feedback in order to improve. As my college professors said, handing students a graded paper with a ton of comments is time-consuming and helps no one. Better to get the comments to them before they write the final draft.

This girl had written a poem about being a teenager with a roller coaster as a metaphor for the teen experience, with all the ups and downs. Yeah, not that original. When I gave her feedback on how to improve, her response to me was, “But this is really what it’s like to be a teenager.” To which I probably said something like, “Yes you’re right, but this is poetry, and one of your goals is to express something in a way no one has said before (or at least not that 500 million other people have said before).” When she handed me her final poem, she hadn’t changed a word.

The best writers I ever had—be it of essays, short stories, poems, or plays—were those who appreciated feedback and applied it to their writing through the filter of their own vision. I had my fair share of kids who handed me their final draft, and it was the exact same as the working draft I had written comments on. A rare few really felt like their lack of changes were justifiable (and I always let kids sit down and explain their reasoning), though most were either just lazy or conceited.

How we as artists (or humans, really) handle critique determines where and how far we go in life. Sometimes, I am so overwhelmed by my own lack of knowledge and skill about so many things that I wish I could get a graduate degree in nine or ten areas. There are people, though, who simply cannot handle being told how to do anything better or face any kind of critique, from the minute (you really didn’t handle that situation right) to the grand (that guy you’re about to marry is a loser).

It can be hard because we all want to think the best of ourselves. Who doesn’t want to be perfect? The problem is that as writers, actors, directors, and so on, we have to face criticism in order to grow.

Of course, the critique always has to be filtered through your own vision. You don’t want to be a chicken grabbing at everything that looks like feed, gobbling it all up without consideration. In my younger and less educated days (okay, just about six years ago), I received some critique on my play. One comment a wise, older man told me was that I needed to incorporate more historical details, making reference to changes in daily living that were affecting the people. I did just that, and a few years later, I removed almost all of them because they were more of a distracter. I needed the maturity of time to realize that references of that nature weren’t required for the story.

But if you shun everything and realize your own genius before everyone else does, you’ll be hard fit to figure out why you’re not “making it” on Broadway (or anywhere).

One time I was reading a sitcom someone was writing. People sat around in a bar, telling jokes. I told the person, “It’s funny, but there’s no plot.” The response I got was, “What do you mean? There’s a plot!” I don’t think this person could even outline a plot. If you can’t handle critique, then don’t expect your talent to get anywhere. No one is born knowing everything.

My aunt used a term the one time I read a short story she wrote. She said, “Be brutal.” That’s my mantra as well when getting critique. Yes, it is nice (and important) to know what you are doing well, but facing the tough thoughts are the ones that will help you.

In my younger days, I was very open to critique, and I ate it up (and still do). But I wasn’t smart. Someone read something I wrote—and let me tell you what a rare blessing that is—and when he offered his great points of critique, I felt the need to say, essentially, “That’s really good, but please understand that, even though it was the wrong choice, it was an intentional choice.” Unfortunately, I think it came off as, “I disagree.” I later wrote a thank you letter better explaining my intentions.

New Yorkers, I am finding, give the best critique. An acquaintance (another person who spoke truth into my life when it was hard to hear) once told me there was a New Yorker cartoon where there was a person from Los Angeles greeting a person from New York on a street. Now I’ll paraphrase here, but the New York person was saying, “F%&@ you,” while the man from Los Angeles was saying, “Hello.” However, the person from Los Angeles was thinking, “F%&@ you,” while the man from New York was thinking, “Hello.” If you’ve ever been to both places, you know nothing could be truer.

A few months ago, I got a good “F%&@ you” from a New Yorker who read my work, and it was the best thing ever.

Peter Filichia once wrote a column on TheaterMania.com where he commented on how much he liked David Yazbek's work in Dirty Rotten Scoundrels but strongly criticized Yazbek’s cheating with rhymes, matching “obscene. Her” with “Orangina” and “what it’s fer” with “Bar Mitzver.” I don’t remember Yazbek’s response word for word, but he basically said, “Yeah, you’re right. They don’t rhyme.”

So . . . find someone in your life whom you trust to say “F%&@ you” from time to time, particularly when it comes to your art. If it comes from a place of concern, love, or respect, it’ll be the best thing in the world. If it comes from a place of jealousy, spite, or mean-spiritedness, it’s probably the second best thing in the world.

the Broadway Mouth
November 22, 2008

High School Musicals, Part 3: Dancing in Women’s Underwear . . . ?

Midway through The Wedding Singer, my thought was “This would be such a fun show to do in a high school. Too bad it can’t be done.”

It’s a myth that old Broadway shows were purely wholesome entertainments. I once saw a great regional production of Oklahoma! with a group of teachers who had grown up loving the movie. They were more than slightly surprised by some of the lyrics in the stage version. In the old days, though, when schools did shows like Oklahoma! or The Pajama Game, they could easily look to the film adaptations for guidance on how to incorporate alterations to make the show appropriate for their students. The lyrics were already changed by the original creators for the movies, so there was no danger is adapting those changes.

My college directing teacher told us that you could get away with taking out the swear words, but really, anything other than that, you were legally out of bounds. She taught us to respect the work of the playwright, to honor their intentions, and that if a show in its entirety wasn’t right for your actors or your audience, then it was best to pick another show.

When I saw The Wedding Singer, I knew there was no way for a high school to do the show without severely damaging the integrity of the piece. Here was a show with instant name recognition for the audience, with really catchy songs, and loads of laughs. Plus, kids would love the retro 80s factor. The Wedding Singer really would be a blast for high school students to tackle.

But from beginning to end, there’s too much material not appropriate for high school actors. Songs incorporate the f-bomb, strippers, drugs, and sexual practices. A major plot element involves a character waking up to wonder if he’s had sex with a woman he doesn’t love, not to mention her seduction of him the night before. And what would a high school do with a gay character like George (who, in song lyrics, dances in women’s underwear and professes not to like women at all).

I’ve also wondered what high schools will do with Hairspray. There’s not much inappropriate in the stage version, but there are lines about kids with condoms, a lesbian phy ed teacher taking advantage of her students, plus a few other devious lines here and there that would give administrators cause to wince. If you can easily leave a line out, that’s not so bad for a high school director to do, but to take on rewriting dialogue or lyrics is crossing the line. Hopefully, when it is licensed, the writers will provide equitable solutions for high school directors to use.

With the exception of a big, challenging show like Les Miserables, I don’t think most high school directors would opt for a “School Edition” or “Jr.” production of a show. High school directors generally do aspire to make a great show, and while “Jr.” productions are great for middle schools, to do a The Wedding Singer Jr. at a high school would be beneath most students and directors (though, there is an audience for high schools doing High School Musical, so what do I know?). The creators could re-write a PG-rated The Wedding Singer, but that would just be cheap. There’d have to be too many major changes (as opposed to changing a line of dialogue or a lyrics here or there).

Dirty Rotten Scoundrels is another show that has the potential to be a heap of fun at a high school that would simply not work for a high school to produce.

Maybe that’s why the most common new shows to make it to high school are Seussical and Beauty and the Beast. They can actually be done at a high school.

the Broadway Mouth
September 18, 2008

Amazing Broadway Performer: Sherie René Scott

When you don’t live in New York, you consider yourself blessed beyond measure for getting to see a Broadway star of Sherie René Scott’s caliber once. I can’t tell you how thrilled I am to have been able to see her twice.

I first saw her in Aida. I had never heard of her before, except for her appearance on the Aida concept album. I figured that Heather Headley and Adam Pascal would blow her out of the water. Oh, but then she sang, “This is the story of a love that flourished in a time of hate,” and I learned Sherie René Scott is no third wheel to anyone.

Scott gives those stick-to-your-ribs types of performances, so when you’re listening to a CD, you can remember what she did and how she did it. I adored her layered Amneris with her rock ‘n roll inflections, and whenever I page through my souvenir program, I remember her simple feminine qualities which sheltered a deeper, stronger person trying to break out. And when she came out in the black dress to belt out the ending to “My Strongest Suit,” I was exhilarated beyond words.

How great it was that she had returned to Dirty Rotten Scoundrels by the time I made it to the show in its final month. I don’t want to give away too much of the show, but I totally fell in love with her character and, like every other person in the theatre, was cheering for her by the end of the show. Listening to her say with such great excitement, “These fries are French!” on the OBCR is one of the highlights for me.

I know she’ll make a delightful Ursula in The Little Mermaid, and I can’t wait to hear what she does with “Poor Unfortunate Souls,” and I hope to be able to see her in the part as well. If I miss another Sherie René Scott role, I’ll surely be a poor unfortunate soul myself.

After seeing her in Aida, I was compelled to buy her Men I’ve Had CD. I would love to hear a more theatrical solo album, but she sounds great. And the picture on the back of the case is worth the price alone.

Getting to Know You Interview: http://www.broadway.com/gen/Buzz_Story.aspx?ci=512596&pn=1



the Broadway Mouth
July 23, 2007