“One of the worst things you can do onstage is tell the audience something is funny”

1. Please give a short description of AEFD from a Director’s Perspective. What

Dan Berkowitz

are the images or themes that drive your process?

Another Effing Family Drama is a wacked-out farcical comedy which makes fun of “kitchen-sink” drama, normal theatrical conventions, and a bunch of other things which I’m sure I could remember if I didn’t have a hangover. I think – no, I know – I was drawn to it when I read what author Catherine Pelonero said of the show way back before I was even approached to direct it. She wrote “if you’ve ever wanted to tear your own hair out when angst-filled characters start spewing their dark secrets, if you’ve ever wanted to punch Eugene O’Neill in the face, this is a show for you!” How can anyone resist a show like that?!? Well, actually, there are a lot of folks who can, but they’re the ones we’re making fun of…

Seriously, I don’t have any hair to tear out, and punching Eugene O’Neill in the face would be difficult and messy to do these days. But I’ve been around long enough to have had hair to tear out when I first had to deal with overly-serious theatre artistes, the kind of folks who think entertainment is for the bourgeoisie, and that only angst-filled, guilt-driven, utterly humorless drama can be considered “art.” A lot of them are still around. Note to self: Renew gun permit.

Effing allows a bunch of actors to be totally wild, yet demands they be utterly sincere and serious within the world of the play. At the first meeting with the cast, I told them about when I was studying acting with Stella Adler many years ago. One day, she brought in as a guest the actor Larry Blyden, who’d just won the Tony the night before for A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum. What he said that day has stuck with me all these years. He said that in comedy, you have to tell the truth every moment you’re on, whereas in farce you have to lie every moment you’re on. But whichever it is, you have to be utterly intent and believable in what you say and do, totally committed to the truth of the play, and logical within the world of those characters. Funny Thing isn’t all that far in tone from Effing, and what we’re working hard on is making sure the actors are living truthfully on the “Effing Planet.” One of the worst things you can do onstage is tell the audience something is funny – they have to find it out on their own.

2. How did you prepare for directing a new piece versus other pieces? What interests you about this piece in the Fringe?

I’ve directed lots of new pieces – in fact, I’ll miss one of the Effing performances because I’ll be on the east coast casting the next play I’m directing, another new work.

With a new play, the first thing you have to do – after reading the play about a hundred times – is talk with the author, find out what he or she wanted to accomplish when writing the it. And one of the best ways to do that is simply to let the author talk.

One thing which drives me up the wall is when a director approaches a play with a “vision” without finding out whether that “vision” is what the author intended. Let’s face it, the play’s the thing, and the person who created it has the last word on how it’s to be done. A director’s first and most important job is to realize the playwright’s vision as closely as possible. You should come in with a plethora of ideas – how to make things work visually, which sometimes a playwright won’t have thought of; how to get textures and layers of meaning out of the lines; how to make sure situations and transitions are clear and accomplish what the playwright intended.

Often you need to work with a playwright as a dramaturg, and suggest additions or deletions or changes in order to make things clear. In the case of the Effing Family, there were only a few minor suggestions I made before we began; Catherine agreed with some and vetoed others, and we were off.

As a director, you should have very strong ideas about how to make the play work, and you should argue strenuously for them when necessary. But in the end, if the playwright disagrees, it’s his or her work, and that’s that. If you don’t like it, quit. But no director has the right – especially for the first production of a play by a living author – to impose anything onto a work which the author doesn’t want.

Another thing I do to prepare, and some people laugh at me for it (but they’re idiots, so I don’t care), is count the words each character speaks in the play. When asked why, I usually joke that it helps me block the curtain call. But actually it’s a fascinating exercise for a number of reasons. First, it makes you go through the script very slowly, and you often see things in a different way when you do that. Second, you become aware of who really dominates a given scene, and it isn’t always the person who says the most. Third, it gives you an idea of the running time. Not to mention that it helps you block the curtain call.

Whether I’m directing a new piece or something by Shakespeare or Moliere, the basic process remains the same: read the script; (hopefully) understand it; French-scene it for purposes of rehearsal, and to help figure out timing for costume changes and other technical matters; block it on paper before the first rehearsal so you have a structure to start with; open yourself to ideas from anyone and everyone; and jump-start – not curb – your enthusiasm.

The nice part about working with a living, breathing playwright is that you can often help shape a piece, as the author will sometimes see something in rehearsal which gives rise to another line, a different approach, another layer – that can be exciting.

I think Another Effing Family Drama is ideal for the Fringe. It’s way out there on the edge, yet totally accessible even to dummies like me, and it’s a good time. What’s not to like? Come see it! Come again!

3. What was the biggest challenge in directing this piece and how will you overcome it (if you think you will)? AND

Monica Martin & Eve Minemar

4. What is the biggest challenge to directors in Los Angeles? How have you found your way here and where do you hope to go?

The biggest challenge so far – no kidding – is working with actors who are trying to make a living in show biz in Los Angeles.

I’ve directed about 50 plays and musicals, and more than 100 cabaret revues, but had never directed in LA until this spring; Effing is only the second production I will have directed here.

Part of my problem is that I’ve gotten spoiled over the past six or seven years, in that whenever I’ve directed, it’s been a full-time job for the actors, and they’ve been paid well, so I can set a rehearsal schedule and that’s it. Period.

Clearly, though, when the actors are making four cents an hour, you have to adjust around their work schedules, as we all have to pay the rent and shove food down our gullets. No problem there, usually, as most businesses operate like businesses and you can predict what your schedule will be.

However, LA is a film and TV town, and the people who are in charge of the film and TV biz are, by and large, even more wacked-out and disorganized than people who work in the post office.

I still remember when a good friend of mine, an actor, was up for a supporting role in a network sitcom, back when there weren’t so many cable outlets and a network sitcom was a big effing deal. This show had a major star in the lead role – I mean really major – and was one of the most anticipated shows of that season, having been planned for months on end. My friend got the call that he was cast at 5:00 PM on the day before the show was to start shooting – as well as about 18 other calls on his machine from the costumer, the makeup guy, the business reps, yada yada yada, all of whom had to talk to him right now! And this for something on which millions of dollars were riding.

So what do you do when you’re directing a show for the Fringe which pays the performers only a very modest stipend, and you get an email from an actor the night before a rehearsal saying he’s booked a job for the next day? Or a phone call from someone who says she has to fly out of town for three days on a project? Show biz in LA is more insane than any biz anywhere else, and unless you have enough money to say “This is your job for the next 3 weeks,” you’re effed.

How to overcome it? Hope for the best.

As for where I hope to go from here, who knows? I had my life planned out when I was young and stupid. Now that I’m old and stupid, I find myself occasionally thinking of what the mythologist Joe Campbell, whom I knew, once said: “You have to be willing to give up the life you’ve planned to have the life that’s waiting for you.”

Effing awesome when you think about it…

If you want to buy tickets now – and who wouldn’t? – here is the link!