Color Model

Our model has come a long way since we first assembled it in white. We’ve printed out color patterns and pasted them to the walls and the road. Additionally, we cut and painted some extra elements to be placed in the scene, giving our theoretical actors more to play with. We’ve also finished our paper models for our cars.

The theoretical setup will involve 30k lumen projectors pointed at each of the front walls, and ultra short-throw projectors lighting up the RP screen. Our actual setup will involve one projector in front and one projector in back.

Our play will start with an usher walking out onto the stage. They will apologize for any inconvenience or disappointment, but due to a tragic injury during last night’s performance, there will be no performance of Furious! The Fast and Furious Musical tonight. Instead, they hope you’ll enjoy this performance of… uhh… He pulls a piece of paper out of his pocket. Please enjoy “Hedwig and the Angry Inch!”

The song “Tear Me Down” will be performed with the original Fast and Furious tech still playing. The piece will involve bright lights streaking past the stage, and receding into the distance on the RP screen, creating the illusion of depth. The number will end with a spectacular crash. Flames and sparks will be projected all over the walls. The car stage left, which had been hanging from the ceiling, will crash down onto the floor. That… didn’t seem planned.

The next song to involve projections will be “Origin of Love.” Hedwig will roll out an old-school overhead transparency projector. It really is a far cry from the tech spectacle that we witnessed earlier in the show, but hey, you work with what you have. She will lay down transparencies over each other, helping to tell the story of the creation of the world. When she reaches the part where Zeus decides to destroy the world, she will lay down a clear pan filled with water and begin adding colored oils, á lá Joshua Light Show. This trippy light show will start out on the upstage screen and grow to cover the whole stage. We will accomplish this by fading down her overhead projector and fading up pre-rendered digital imagery. This will mark the turning point from the “realistic” world of the failed Broadway show into the Hedwig’s fantasy world. This is the song for which we will be our fully fleshed-out video.

We will present will be “Wicked Little Town (reprise)” as our final song. By this point, Hedwig will have destroyed most of the set over the course of the show. The rear projection screen will be torn down during “Exquisite Corpse,” leaving an empty stage behind it. We will be projecting on to Tommy Gnosis’ body, following him around the stage. We don’t know exactly what our content will look like yet, but we hope to really try to visualize our core concept of growth through pain, and we like the idea of an image starting small and growing to take over the stage.

White Model

The last time we met up, we decided that the biggest theme in our approach to Hedwig would be “growth through pain.” There is so much destruction that happens through the course of the show, and out of that destruction Hedwig emerges as a stronger and more compassionate person. Building off of that, we decided that our show would take place on the set of FURIOUS! The Fast and the Furious Musical. This fictional musical will have just closed due to a terrible accident that occurred in the previous performance. Hedwig have the chance to perform on a set that is physically dangerous to perform on. As Hedwig’s character is broken down, the set will break down with her.

We began thinking about what an actual “Fast and Furious” set might look like. The idea of speed and danger was important, not just for the fictional musical but for the story that we were trying to tell with our production of Hedwig. Everything should feel on-edge.

We decided that our set would feature a Los Angeles street with two cars racing out towards the audience. One of these cars would be in mid-air and flipped upside down, mimicking the famous car stunt from the first film.

To help sell the idea of a street extending back into z-space, we wanted to use forced perspective. Ideally a patron sitting in the audience would have the illusion that the set goes farther back than it really does. We accomplished this by placing circles of exponentially increasing radii around a central vanishing point, and then using those to determine where our office buildings’ windows should be.

Sketches done in Vectorworks.

From there, we printed out maps of how we would cut out our set in quarter-inch white foam core. We decided to make the set in half-inch scale, which would provide us with more surface area to project on in detail. We hung translucent material on the windows and on the back wall to stand in for rear-projection material we would be using for a real production.

From here, obviously, we need to decide what our projected content will be. We decided that our three songs would be “Tear Me Down,” “The Origin of Love,” and “Wicked Little Town (Reprise)”. “Tear Me Down will be the first song, and it will use the tech from the fictional Fast and Furious musical. Aesthetically, imagery will reflect the speedy directional blurs from the film’s poster design. Lights will move backwards along the wall, giving the illusion that the cars in the center are racing towards us. At the end of the song, the flipped car will break from its suspension, crashing onto the stage. It will appear to be a random accident, but will actually be controlled and safe.

“The Origin of Love” will mark the transition from Fast and Furious-land into Hedwig-land. This will be the moment when we really enter into Hedwig’s world. Hedwig will begin the song by wheeling out an old-fashioned transparency projector. She will be using actual slides for her presentation. She will create some cool analog effects with transparency and using liquids to mix colors á la Joshua Light Show. At a certain point in the song, the physical transparency projector will fade out as our digital projections fade up, creating a seamless transition to a high-tech projection design covering the entire stage.

“Wicked Little Town (Reprise)” will mark an emotional low point for our character in some ways, but will be inspirational in others. By this point in the show, entropy will have taken over. The set will be broken, as will our characters. As for exactly how that will be shown visually… We’re not totally sure yet. We know what direction we want to go with it, but we don’t quite know exactly what we will be displaying.

There is obviously quite a bit of work to be done from here, including the creation of a full-color model and setting up our actual projectors.

Sentences

(1) Hedwig is about growth from pain.

(2) Hedwig is about the process that we go through when we are forced to remake ourselves.

(3) Hedwig is a story about someone who is betrayed by the men she chooses to follow and loses pieces of herself along the way. She uses music to reinvent herself and survive. She is able to begin to heal and regain her agency when she recognizes that she is recreating those same cycles of abuse.

Our Group!

Our group is:

Nick Tanic

Ryan Grippi

Mary Notari

Topher Blair

Hedwig and the Angry Inch Response

“What is space like on this planet? Interior or exterior, built or natural? Is space here confined or wide open? Do you see a long passage with many “stations”? Do you see a landscape of valleys and mountains? Sea and land? Are we on an island? In a cave? In a desert or a jungle? On a country road?”

-       Space on this planet is entirely interior. Although the story takes us through Germany and Kansas and New York, we see all of those places through the mind of our protagonist.

“Now ask about the time. How does time behave on this planet? Does “time stand still”? Is time frantic and staccato on this planet? Is it leisurely, easy-going time? How is time marked on this planet? By clock? By the sun? By the sound of footsteps? What kind of time are we in? Cyclical time? Eternal time? Linear time? What kind of line? One day? One lifetime?”

-       Time in this narrative follows a couple of different paths. One path goes through a night of a single performance, and the other path takes us through our protagonist’s life. Just like space, time is completely filtered through Hedwig’s eyes.

“What is the mood on this planet? Jolly? Serious? Sad? Ironic? Sepulchral? The mood is not just a question of plot (comedies are “happy,” etc.), “tone” also contributes to mood. What is the tone of this planet? Delicate or coarse? Cerebral or passionate? Restrained or violent? How are mood and tone created on this planet? Through music? Light, sound, color, shape? What shapes? Curves? Angles?”

-       The mood of this planet runs from comical to tranquil to angry, but underneath all of it lies an incredible sadness. Even at its lightest and most irreverent moments, this world feels the weight of what has happened to its main character over the course of her life.

“Look at the first image. Now look at the last. Then locate some striking image near the center of the play [...] Why was it essential to pass through the gate of the central image to get from the first to the last?”

-       The first image of the show is a loud, bombastic and angry Hedwig complaining about Tommy Gnosis’ comeback tour. The final image is of Hedwig and Yitzhak singing a duet together, with Yitzhak in drag. Near the center of the play, we see an image of Hedwig’s mother and former lover convincing her to get gender reassignment surgery. We needed to pass this central image to truly understand Hedwig’s growth. The moment of the surgery shows us why Hedwig is so frustrated at other people creating an identity for her, which is the reason why it matters so much that she finally allows Yitzhak to perform the way they’ve wanted to.

Conceptual Sentences:

-       Hedwig and the Angry Inch is a play about identity.

o   Hedwig and the Angry Inch is a play about the difference between the identities we create for ourselves versus the identities other people create for us.

§  Hedwig and the Angry Inch is a play about the conflict between one’s self-chosen identity and the identity crafted by society, and whether those two concepts can ever be truly separated. The play begins with Hedwig’s anger at Tommy Gnosis, who recently rebranded himself after what could have been a career-ending error in judgment. It ends with with Hedwig accepting her partner performing in drag, finally accepting that people in her life won’t always stick to the roles assigned to them, a choice she never felt like she had.

Cornell Box

One of the most important emotions I felt happening in the piece was constant pressure. Even before we knew exactly what was happening in the play’s post-apocalyptic scenario, there was always an uneasy sense that something could go wrong at any time. Hence, I had the idea to essentially put a box inside of a box. I wanted a man-made feeling box under constant pressure from the outside, protecting the delicate humanity within.

And yet, even with the stakes so high, I never wanted to lose the element of whimsy, which is present in the play even during its darkest moments. I coated the outside box of the layer with blue-stained paper. I wanted the blue to communicate depth and pressure, but I think the watercolor texture helps to make the situation feel appropriately absurd.

The same philosophy went for the interior box. It was wrapped in metallic coating, representing the artificial habitat keeping our characters alive, but instead of a solid metal frame, I felt that wrapping a cardboard box in metallic-looking plastic felt appropriate. The whole structure feels a little janky, just like it does in the play.

When it came time to create a collage of the eponymous artifacts, just collecting photographs didn’t feel right. A photograph of a converse shoe wouldn’t have felt as precious as it should, given how the characters felt about it. Thus, I chose to translate photographs to an ink-and-paper sketch. The artifacts feel less solid this way, and also more important.

Artifacts of Consequence Response

Elinor Fuchs Response to Artifacts of Consequence

“What is space like on this planet? Interior or exterior, built or natural? Is space here confined or wide open? Do you see a long passage with many “stations”? Do you see a landscape of valleys and mountains? Sea and land? Are we on an island? In a cave? In a desert or a jungle? On a country road?”

-       The world of the play is entirely interior, and very much man-made. It feels high tech, but also kind of shoddy. It is an underground habitat, but not the kind we could imagine existing in our reality. Think less Isaac Asimov, more Terry Gilliam.

“Now ask about the time. How does time behave on this planet? Does “time stand still”? Is time frantic and staccato on this planet? Is it leisurely, easy-going time? How is time marked on this planet? By clock? By the sun? By the sound of footsteps? What kind of time are we in? Cyclical time? Eternal time? Linear time? What kind of line? One day? One lifetime?”

-       There is no sunlight in this world, so time isn’t quite measured naturally. Instead, time is measured by routine. The routine of Dallas going out for supplies, of Ari learning her lessons. In our own world, long term time is marked by cycles: birth and death, decay and renewal. In this world, however, nothing really gets renewed – long term time is a slow march towards entropy with no possibility for rebirth.

“What is the mood on this planet? Jolly? Serious? Sad? Ironic? Sepulchral? The mood is not just a question of plot (comedies are “happy,” etc.), “tone” also contributes to mood. What is the tone of this planet? Delicate or coarse? Cerebral or passionate? Restrained or violent? How are mood and tone created on this planet? Through music? Light, sound, color, shape? What shapes? Curves? Angles?”

-       The fact that the setting of this planet is so removed from reality allows for some tonal dissonances as well. The mood is comical, yet desperate. The scale is global, but intimate. Conversations are more cerebral, with passions being implied beneath the surface.

“Look at the first image. Now look at the last. Then locate some striking image near the center of the play [...] Why was it essential to pass through the gate of the central image to get from the first to the last?”

-       The first image that comes to mind as striking was that of Dallas coming back for the first time, and the three characters acting almost like a normal family, full of well-meaning quips with their own deep subtext. The final image that comes to mind is that of Ari holding a limp string in a dying habitat, knowing that nobody is coming to save her. My middle striking image is that of Ari putting her mouth on Theo’s stomach.

-       Ari’s arc through the story is essentially one that we all need to learn as part of growing up: that sometimes doing the right thing means denying immediate desires. That sometimes we need to set aside what we really want for what is best for ourselves and others long term. Most people learn that lesson at least partly before they reach Ari’s age in the play, but I think Ari hadn’t had to deal with a dilemma like that yet because she hadn’t been exposed to something that she really wanted before.

-       Thus, I think that the scene of her expressing her desire for Theo is critical for the story. Before the story began, she had been surrounded by two extremes, the tough and pragmatic Minna, and Dallas, the sentimental art connoisseur. Dallas was constantly breaking protocol to get what he wanted, and Minna was constantly destroying beautiful objects that she saw as an impediment to survival. Her wanting of Theo, as understandable as that desire may have been, was the moment when she began to be implicated in the complexities of adulthood.

Artifacts of Consequence Conceptual Sentences:

-       Artifacts of Consequence is about what we choose to value.

o   Artifacts of Consequence is about what and whom we choose to value when life forces us to make difficult decisions.

§  Artifacts of Consequence is about making decisions about what are values really are when life forces us to make difficult choices. Compassion, pragmatism, loyalty and integrity are all considered to be positive traits on their own right, but what happens when we’re placed in a situation where those values all contradict each other? The characters in the play are in an underwater habitat in a post-apocalyptic setting, and their values are tested when the supplies that they’ve been counting on run out.

Response to Peter Brook and Elinor Fuchs

It’s rare that a school assigned reading can make me cringe so badly that I have to put it down and walk away for a second. But that’s what happened while I was reading Peter Brook’s “The Deadly Theatre.” It’s not that I didn’t like the article; I actually found it very illuminating. It was that his cutting description of a certain kind of theater rang so true to some of the projects that I have personally worked on that even thinking about it was cause for embarrassment.

Before coming to ITP, I spent six years working for a LORT theater in Denver (I don’t wanna name names, but there’s really only one…) While the company occasionally did good work, just as often the product that it put out felt… tired. Obligatory. It was obvious that some plays existed, not because they were the play that people wanted to do, but because they were the plays that people expected to do. I remember taking a date to an opening night production of The Glass Menagerie that I had done a little bit of work for. After the show, we went to the lobby for the party, and everyone there was visibly deflated. The play didn’t feel like an accomplishment so much as it felt like one more box checked for the year. My date, who had spent a long time in amateur theater around town, turned to me and said, “This is the most depressing opening night I’ve ever been to.”  It was at that moment that I realized just how deadly the work we were doing there truly was.

How can we avoid this Deadly Theater? At a certain level, working as a theater professional means that you eventually will be doing work out of obligation. Is it possible to avoid such a thing?

A couple weeks ago, I saw a show called “Date Me”. The show was a mish-mash of rom-com clichés, gay best friend and everything, molded into a contemporary live sketch show with a loose overarching narrative about online dating holding it together. The actors, doing what sketch comedians do, tried to compensate lack of depth with an increase in volume It was ultimately fine, but kind of tired. I think Peter Brook would call it deadly.

However, for me at least, the show really came alive during improv interludes (I think there were three of them over the course of the show). I don’t know how many felt the same way, but I found myself unconsciously exhaling a bit. While during the scripted bits it seemed like the actors were forced into the broad caricatures drawn by the script, during the improv sections they felt more relaxed, and like they could respond to the audience’s mood and go where they needed to go organically. It felt immediate.

If it feels like I’m advocating improv over scripted theater, I’m not. Lord knows there’s enough deadly improv out there. But I think it’s interesting that Brook’s prescription for “immediate” theater involved a lengthy rehearsal process on the part of the director. He bemoans the harsh Broadway rehearsal schedule that he feels doesn’t allow a director and an actor to find the right approach on their own, but rather just gives an actor time to learn rote moves, often pre-planned by the director. It feels like the approach that Brooks advocates is borderline-improv, in that he asks actors to try things and adapt to the audience’s response (in this case the audience being the director.) In this way, actors and directors can hopefully create a show that is simultaneously immediate and replicable.

In some ways, Brook’s approach reflects the ethos put forward by Elinor Fuchs. In Fuchs’ essay “Visit to a Small Planet,” she asks us to, before taking a deep dive into any details of a play, to “squint your eyes” and try to take in the “world of the play.” She asks us then to gradually understand the details of how this world operates, going from more general to more detailed. I think that Peter Brooks likes to treat directing and designing in the same way. He has to be in the room with his cast to understand the “world” in which he operates before he can really move on to finer details.

Immediacy is just as important for a designer as it is for an actor, but in many ways it’s harder to achieve. While an actor might worry about their performance growing stale, a designer’s work is usually canned from the moment the curtain rises on opening night. Does that mean that our field is doomed to be “deadly”? The trick, I think, is to be in open two-way communication with the director, and to be understanding and open to how the play is developing in the rehearsal room. Brook himself described a similar process when he wrote about designing some of his own sets. This isn’t an easy thing to achieve, either mentally or technically. Staying open and fluid during rehearsal is one thing for an actor, but another thing when you’ve spent dozens of hours working on one particular vision of a show, only to see that your vision no longer fits with the way the play is going. But this kind of flexibility is crucial.

Brook says of a stage designer that, “the later he makes his decisions, the better.” To be honest, I wouldn’t go that far. I’ve found that being prepared going into a rehearsal process is one of the best ways to stay fluid. It’s hard to be creative when you’re crunched for time. But I do agree that we need to arrive at conclusions alongside our ensemble, and that our work needs to fit in with theirs in order to feel complete. Stage designers are part of the performance, and as such we need to be able to adapt to the show’s needs, just like a performer does.