Austin Archer’s play
JUMP receives its world premiere at
Plan-B Theatre Company April 5-15, 2018 in a co-production with
Flying Bobcat Theatrical Laboratory.
Austin, along with co-directors Alexandra Harbold and Robert Scott Smith, share their thoughts on the play and co-production.
“I’ve been writing songs for over a decade ( visit Austin's music catalog). It started slowly when I was in high school. I’d finish a song every few months or so, and I was never pleased with the result. I wanted to be a great songwriter like Bob Dylan or Elliot Smith. I believed that if I kept it up I’d eventually get better at it. And while that was true, I thought I’d get better after ten or twenty songs. In reality, I don’t think I started to get decent until I’d written maybe 100. By then I was in college and finishing a new song about every other week. I’d adjusted my methods, I’d grown as a guitarist and lyricist, but I still wasn’t where I wanted to be. As time passed, my obsession grew deeper. I’d write song after song, most of them only lasting in my mind for a few days. Many would never even be committed to paper, let alone memory. I’d developed a particular vision for what I was looking for, and I knew it when I had it. So, when it was right, the song got recorded on a tape recorder, written down, practiced, and refined. When it was wrong, it was simply released into the ether from whence it came without a second thought. I had no patience for the bad songs. In my mind, I had to push through the bad ones in order to get to the decent ones, and I had to slog through the decent ones if I ever wanted to find the elusive great ones.
If you’re still reading this, I’m sure you’re wondering when I’m going to find my way out of this overly long metaphor and get to the point.
Here’s my point.
JUMP was only the fifth full-length play I’d ever written when I submitted it to Plan-B through The David Ross Fetzer Foundation for Emerging Artists [with whom Plan-B collaborates to produce a new work each season by a playwright age 35 or younger]. I have enough taste to know that it wasn’t at the level I would’ve liked, but there was a deadline, and I had an idea that I liked, so I submitted the equivalent of a song that probably never would have seen the light of day. But here’s what writing plays has taught me about songwriting: first drafts can be improved upon! In songwriting it’s easy to spend a day on a song, realize it’s not going anywhere, and toss it. It’s easy to be impatient. But if you spend several weeks, months, or possibly even years on a play or a book only to find out that it isn’t up to snuff, it’s a lot harder to just put it in the trash.
So, I’ve been looking at JUMP like a very long, narrative song. One that starts with a compelling idea: a melody that has legs. In this case the idea was simple: what would happen if I dramatized the conversation between a first-time skydiver and his instructor as they realized the chute had malfunctioned and they’d both be dead in a matter of minutes? If a three-second car wreck can feel like ten minutes of slow motion, playing out in agonizing detail, then surely a three-minute free-fall could fill the space of a 70-minute play (and who wouldn’t want to see a live skydive staged, am I right?). What I found: not only was it hard to fill the space of a full narrative with a single moment, it was also possibly ill-advised. My first draft lacked individual characters and story and that’s because my focus was more on the idea than the actual play. In my mind nothing in the play was really happening, it was all part of some pre-death fever dream so who cared if the characters were two-dimensional? It was all about the concept. The style. The challenge. And while I’m still interested in that initial question of whether or not a person’s thoughts during a free-fall to certain death could fill an evening on stage, that’s not the play I wound up writing. I realized that even if I could script those thoughts, they might not be all that dramatically interesting: they might just be random and freeform and chaotic. I have nothing against chaos in art. I think it can be quite beautiful. But JUMP initially unveiled itself to me as a narrative surrounding four characters. I had to figure out what that narrative was outside of the central incident of the failed skydive.
And I honestly had very few ideas.
Luckily, what I did have was time and a group of more experienced playwrights to sound the play in front of. The Lab at Plan-B is such an enormously valuable resource for writers trying to troubleshoot a script. It’s basically the musician’s equivalent of being able to test and workshop each new song in front of Neil Young, Paul Simon, Mariah Carey and Stephen Sondheim (Didn’t know that Mariah wrote all her own songs? Well, now you do. You’re welcome.). It’s amazing. With their insight, I was able to begin the process of fleshing out the characters. I began to work through each character, one at a time, to turn them into people with individual circumstances, arcs and behaviors. Remarkably the story followed right in suit: turns out character and story are kind of joined at the hip. When one suffers, the other suffers, when one improves, the other goes right along with it.
I’m still fine tuning. Still trimming, adding bits and pieces. I’m still allowing the play to continue to reveal itself, note by note, stanza by stanza. But it’s there now. It’s something I can step away from and set free. It’s a song I’d put on an album.
One more thing: former Davey Foundation grant winner Carleton Bluford brought me to tears with his play MAMA at Plan-B a few years before JUMP was selected as the winner of the same competition. It wasn’t just that Bluford is a dear friend and I was beaming with pride, it wasn’t just the beauty of his words and the lovely sentiment he showed for mothers everywhere (I mean it was those things), but the play closed with a song David Fetzer had written for his mother before his death, and that really was the blow that broke my emotional dam. I was moved by the reality of a living legacy for this kind and generous artist taken far too soon. I am so honored to have my play added to that living legacy, and I couldn’t be happier with the approach Plan-B is taking with it. Jerry’s decision to collaborate with Flying Bobcat was a genius move that I believe will really make the play take flight. Alexandra Harbold and Robert Scott Smith aren’t only friends of mine, they’re also a team I’ve previously worked with to create two devised pieces. We have a knowledge of each other’s artistic vocabulary. I trust their vision and their commitment to finding solutions through imagination and good old-fashioned play. If the few conversations I’ve had with them discussing ideas for the show are any indication, they are going to blow this whole thing wide open and create something bolder and more thrilling than anything I could have done on my own. And hopefully it will be a worthy addition to the legacy of David Fetzer!”
– Austin Archer, Playwright, JUMP
“Connessione. When Robert Scott Smith and I first began devising work together at The Leonardo, we were hunting for inspiration and working methods and happened upon Michael J. Gelb’s How to Think Like Leonardo da Vinci. The da Vinci principles have become a divining stick of sorts, a way for us to navigate and dig deeper into the layers of the work. When Jerry invited us to co-produce Austin’s JUMP, connessione, my totem animal of the principles, lit up strong and bright. Gelb defines connessione as 'a recognition of and appreciation for the interconnectedness of all things and phenomena (systems thinking).' This speaks to this powerful act of collaboration and co-producing work; suddenly, the patterns and possibilities come to the fore. Disparate points become constellations.
JUMP is sinuous and capable of effortless time travel. It stirs up questions of how we metabolize loss and grief, what it means to be yoked into someone else’s experience, interdependent – what it means to take the responsibility/burden/choice to take someone else’s wellbeing upon ourselves – or to step away when that weight becomes unbearable. The contracts of love we keep and break. Our dueling impulses to calculate/mitigate risk while hungering for an experience of absolute transcendence. Connessione.”
– Alexandra Harbold, Flying Bobcat Theatrical Laboratory | Co-Director, JUMP
“If you’d asked me five years ago where I’d see my career, I never would have expected to have a theatre company, or that I’d be an assistant professor, or that I would be a successful actor living in SLC. That was not the plan. However, five years ago when I first asked Alexandra Harbold to collaborate with me on the POP-UP@LEO series at The Leonardo, I’d secretly been dreaming of this type of work for what seemed like a lifetime. That invitation led to the creation of three devised original works: SENSES 5, LOVE (our first collaboration with Austin Archer), and MIND|MATTER. This newfound collaboration stirred up our curiosity about forming an ongoing creative partnership and ultimately inspired us to form our own company, Flying Bobcat. Something must be working because once again we find ourselves with another invitation to collaborate. I was thrilled when Jerry approached us to co-produce Austin’s new play JUMP with Plan-B. We jumped at the chance (see what I did there?). Jerry has not only reunited Flying Bobcat with the amazingly talented Austin Archer, he has also given us a platform to share our work with Plan-B’s audience.
Jerry asked me, ‘Why would you want to do this with Plan-B specifically?’ Just look at what they’ve done as a company and you’d have to be insane not to. It’s almost unbelievable to imagine that Plan-B is the only professional theatre company in the country producing full seasons of new works by local playwrights. Artists supporting other artists. This is what David Fetzer was doing all along. With JUMP, it feels like the perfect collaboration of companies working in tandem to give flight to Austin’s play.”
– Robert Scott Smith, Flying Bobcat Theatrical Laboratory | Co-Director, JUMP
February 23, 2018
Jordan says applicants are required to attend a mandatory workshop on March 1st from 4:00 p.m. – 6:00 p.m. at the Salt Lake County Government Center, 2001 South State Street, north building, room N3-200**.
**Edit: The workshop room has been changed to N2-800**
The Cultural Facilities Support Program was first established in 2011 to support construction or renovations of arts and cultural facilities in Salt Lake County, says Jordan. Eligible projects must be publicly accessible arts and/or cultural facilities that serve the performing arts, visual arts, literature, media, or cultural history. Previously funded projects include Midvale Performing Arts Center renovations, new seating and lighting at Cottonwood Butler Middle School’s auditorium, and construction of the Salt Lake County Mid-Valley Performing Arts center – opening in 2020.
Jordan says each application undergoes a technical review by a team made up of Salt Lake County facilities management, finance, and Community Services staff. Their findings are then provided to the Cultural Facilities Support Program (CFSP) Advisory Board which reviews each application. The board then recommends projects to the County Mayor to consider including in the county’s annual budget with a final review and possible approval by the County Council.
More information including an application and program guidelines can be found at slco.org/community-services. Applicants can contact Phil Jordan for more information at email@example.com or 801-244-1962.Program Guidelines & Information Apply via ZoomGrants
February 05, 2018
Jenifer Nii’s latest play, THE WEIRD PLAY, is the second subscription offering of Plan-B Theatre Company's 2017/18 Season - our 27th season! Performances are March 1-11 and tickets may be purchased online.
Jenifer proudly calls Plan-B her creative home. She has previously premiered five plays with the company: KINGDOM OF HEAVEN (the first original musical in our history created with composer and co-lyricist David Evanoff); THE SCARLET LETTER and SUFFRAGE (garnering back-to-back nominations for the American Theatre Critics Association/Steinberg Award for Best New American Play Produced Outside New York); RUFF! (our third annual Free Elementary School Tour); and WALLACE (co-written with Debora Threedy). THE WEIRD PLAY is a co-production with Sackerson and is a recipient of the Dramatist Guild Foundation's inaugural Writers Alliance Grant.
FROM PLAYWRIGHT JENIFER NII:
It’s all in the title, I suppose. I just couldn’t think of another way to describe the content or the process of my latest play. It’s all different, and weird. My hope is that it’s a good weird, and not just weird weird.
THE WEIRD PLAY began as a challenge to myself: to step outside everything I was comfortable with and everything I’d done before, to face head-on the aspects of theatre that had frightened me in the past. I wanted to experiment with language, to discover whether I could retain my “voice” using another style of expression – and a style I wasn’t seeing presented in theatre at the time. I wanted to utilize the set, light, props, and movement in a way I hadn’t tried before. It’s the first time I’ve scripted in any detailed way a vision of what I wanted the piece to look like, and to use those elements as characters with roles to play. And, I wanted to write something that invited (required, really) audience members to participate and determine what the play is about and what it means to them.
This play is different also in that we had three (THREE!) readings before the play was cast. The cast changed each time. The first time, it featured two men and a woman. The next two readings featured women. I wrote it with that possibility in mind – that it might be gender-blind, or at least flexible. It also is meant to be race-blind, and to some extent flexible in the age of the cast. At least, that was my hope.
The reaction by audiences at those readings was fascinating, and tremendously exciting. Opinions varied rather dramatically regarding both the subject and the theme of the play. Some were what I had in mind, while others came out of the blue and reflected a completely different interpretation of what happened on stage. I LOVED hearing the difference, and the range of those differences.
At its core, THE WEIRD PLAY is about love. Maybe it’s first love, the ecstasy of love, really bad love, self love, religious love, the end of love, moving on from love. For me, it was about all of that, some of that, and maybe something else. Weird, huh.
Also, for me, it’s about just loving theatre – the process of making it and celebrating what it can do to engage us as an entertainment event, and with one another. It’s unique, theatre is. It’s special. I hope THE WEIRD PLAY reflects, serves, and contributes to that in some small, if also weird, way.
January 22, 2018
SALT LAKE COUNTY, UT – Salt Lake County Zoo, Arts and Parks (ZAP) is now accepting grant applications from qualifying organizations for 2018 Tier II funding. ZAP Tier II is a grant-making program that currently partially funds 171 arts, cultural and botanical organizations.
The grants ZAP distributes come from sales tax. One penny of every 10 dollars spent in Salt Lake County is set aside for this cause.
The ZAP Program first began in 1997 and was renewed in 2014 by 77% of Salt Lake County voters.
Tier II applications are due March 30, 2018 at 3:00 PM. Applications can be found on ZAP’s website.
CONDADO DE SALT LAKE, UT – El programa de Zoológicos, Artes y Parques del Condado de Salt Lake (ZAP) está aceptando aplicaciones de organizaciones que califican en el año 2018 en el nivel II de Becas, un programa que otorga becas parciales para 171 organizaciones artísticas, culturales y botánicas.
Las becas ZAP se originan en los impuestos de ventas. 1 centavo de cada 10 dólares de ventas en el condado de Salt Lake es utilizado para esta causa.
El programa ZAP comenzó en 1997 y fue reinstituido en el 2014 por un voto de 77% de los votantes del Condado de Salt Lake.
La fecha de cierre es Marzo 30, 2018 a las 3:00 PM. Las aplicaciones se pueden encontrar en el sitio ZAP.
December 27, 2017
SALT LAKE COUNTY, UT – In 2018, 22 arts and culture organizations will be funded in Salt Lake County’s Zoo, Arts and Parks (ZAP) Tier I Program – the largest funding category. Three organizations will also be funded in its Zoological category: Utah’s Hogle Zoo, Tracy Aviary and The Loveland Living Planet Aquarium.
ZAP is a grant-making program that partially funds over 190 Salt Lake County arts and cultural organizations. It also supports over 30 parks and recreation facilities.
Salt Lake County Mayor Ben McAdams said, "The arts, cultural events and the parks and trails in our county support the excellent quality of life enjoyed by residents. ZAP is the result of a community that cares about making family memories and enjoying time together with friends. I’m grateful to our citizens who have chosen to support and take advantage of everything ZAP has to offer.
Each of the selected Tier I and Zoological organizations goes through a rigorous application process to demonstrate their positive impact on Salt Lake County and how they enhance resident and visitor experiences. In the past year, Tier I and Zoological organizations spent more than $88.2 million in Salt Lake County and offered 1.2 million free admissions.
Jena Woodbury, Executive Director for Tier I recipient Ririe-Woodbury Dance Company, has seen the impact this funding has on their own work. "The support we have received from ZAP has enabled us to maintain reasonable ticket prices, create new outreach activities, commission new dances, provide free events, and develop community partnerships within the county."
Directed by state statute and county policies, ZAP can fund up to 22 Tier I organizations and 3 Zoological organizations whose qualifying expenditures are over $354,000. The Tier I Advisory Board is committed to a fair process that decides which organizations will receive Tier I and Zoological funding.
Organizations that do not receive funding in Tier I or Zoological are eligible to receive funding in ZAP’s Tier II category.
The grants ZAP distributes come from sales tax. One penny of every 10 dollars spent in Salt Lake County is set aside for this cause. ZAP was renewed by nearly 77% of Salt Lake County voters in 2014.
2018 Tier I and Zoological applicants reported an astounding breadth of work, which includes:
- Salt Lake County resident attendance totaled more than 3.9 million
- 5,719 volunteers utilized
- 2,326 full and part-time jobs provided
- 1.2 million free admissions an
- $88.2 million in expenses - that's all money pumping back into our local economy!
Funded Tier I Organizations:
Hale Centre Theatre
Natural History Museum of Utah
Pioneer Theatre Company
Preservation Utah (formerly Utah Heritage Foundation)
Red Butte Garden
Repertory Dance Theatre
Ririe-Woodbury Dance Company
Salt Lake Acting Company
Salt Lake Arts Council
Salt Lake Film Society
Utah Arts Festival
Utah Film Center
Utah Museum of Contemporary Art
Utah Museum of Fine Art
Utah Symphony | Utah Opera
Funded Zoological Organizations:
Utah’s Hogle Zoo
Loveland Living Planet Aquarium
November 07, 2017
It has taken me 30 years to write
THE ICE FRONT.
While living in Norway for three years, I found the story I could use as the vehicle for this celebration in my research files from my doctoral dissertation. In 1990, in the Norwegian National Theatre archives, I discovered the story of SISTE SKRIK (aka THE LAST SCREAM), a Nazi propaganda play that became a battleground between the actors of the National, and the Quisling Cultural Ministry.
I loved the material I found, but I was also somewhat intimidated by it. Draft after draft fell short of my expectations, so I set it aside. It did, however, revive a lot of family stories for me.
My grandparents, Ragnar and Ellik Samuelsen, lived in Moss, right at the mouth of Oslo fjord. Their house was right on the beach; my Dad swam in the ocean every morning growing up. He was seven when the occupation began, twelve when it ended, in 1945. His sister, Turid, was four years younger. My father had a boat as a kid (having a boat was, for Norwegian kids, like having a bike for American kids).
I grew up with stories about the occupation. My grandmother’s brother, my Great-Uncle Henry Evensen was a PT boat captain, tasked with making the dangerous run from England to the Norwegian west coast, carrying munitions and explosives. Uncle Henry was a war hero—one of the most highly decorated military officers in Norwegian history. I knew him a little. When we went back to Norway with my Dad (he’d emigrated to the United States in 1950), we’d always see Uncle Henry; he’d take us on his boat (which is now preserved as a museum), and then tell us stories about Viking chiefs of the past. I put it all together in my head: Vikings=Norwegian Resistance fighters=Uncle Henry=my family.
It wasn’t quite that simple. Uncle Henry, I later learned, though a kind and gentle and talented man, was essentially incapacitated by untreated PTSD; he fought alcoholism his whole life, tormented by his war memories. His brother, Uncle Fridtjoff, was a local Resistance coordinator during the war; he became a bitter and abusive, angry man.
I grew up hearing stories from my father, my aunt, and my grandparents, about the ways ordinary Norwegians fought oppression and hardship, the day-to-day challenges and difficulties.
For most Norwegians, though, the war years were filled with deprivation, but not quite hunger. My grandfather (who I always called Bestefar, just as I called my grandmother Bestemor) worked at the Moss glass factory at a decent wage, but buying food was difficult. It was rationed, and in addition to money, you needed the right ration coupon to buy anything. My Dad said that his job, when he got home from school, was to go fishing. He’d take his little sailboat out into the fjord, and fish for cod or halibut. He thought it was fun; a lark, and a way out of homework. Years later he realized that the fish he caught were dinner, most nights. Bestefar, meanwhile, after work, would ride his bicycle thirty kilometers or more from town, looking for small farms where he could buy some milk for his kids. All very black market, of course, but that was how things worked.
Still, compared with other countries conquered by the Germans, Norway was treated with comparative benevolence, at least at first. The Nazis’ insane racial theories suggested that Norwegians were ethnic cousins to Germans. Surely, in time, Norwegians would come to realize that Resistance to Naziism wasn’t just counter-productive, it was racially blinkered. And so, a major cultural institution like the Norwegian National Theatre in Oslo was not just kept open, but heavily subsidized. In time, the theory went, Norwegians would come to their senses.
Mostly, this didn’t happen. Norwegian saboteurs destroyed troop ships and bridges and factories. Most Norwegians were expert skiiers, and could swoop down, strike a German target, then ski home. Plans would be hatched in England, and Resistance fighters would execute them, fully aware of how broad popular support would be, and how easy to hide in plain sight.
My grandmother tells a story about a day when she was hanging out her wash on the back line. She could see a German troop ship steaming down Oslo fjord, heading to Germany. Suddenly, an explosion rocked the ship, and she could see it sink, and she could hear the cries of drowning German soldiers. She had a boat; she was an accomplished sailor and rower; she was perfectly capable of rescuing some of the men. She looked up and down the beach, and could see all her neighbors, all making the same calculations. Men were drowning; they could help, perhaps rescue at least a few. Calm seas, the wind fair for an attempt. And one by one, she watched her neighbors take their laundry and go inside. Yes, men were drowning. But they were Germans; the enemy. There was a war on. No. She would do nothing.
A few hours later, a German patrol knocked on her door. They were furious, and shouted ‘what had she seen, what had she done?’ She told them that she had seen nothing. What sinking troop ship? I never saw anything of the kind. That was the only answer the Germans got from any of the women on the beach. She was a little afraid, she told me once, that the Germans would shoot her as an example. But if that happened, she was prepared for it.
The other big story I grew up with involved the destruction, by the Norwegian Resistance, of a heavy water plant in Northern Norway. In Vemork, Norsk Hydro built a commercial heavy water plant, for use as fertilizer. Heavy water—deuterium oxide—was also an essential component in the creation of nuclear weapons. The Allies were worried about that heavy water being used in the German nuclear program, and so, in October, 1942, a joint British-Norwegian task force, Operation Grouse, attempted to destroy the plant and water. It failed, and the Resistance members in the attack were captured and executed. But then, in March 1943, in Operation Gunnarside, the Norwegians tried again, this time without British assistance. They managed to destroy the plant and the heavy water and then ski 400 kilometers to safety in neutral Sweden. Military experts call it the most successful and important sabotage mission of the entire Second World War. And it’s possible that, without that plant’s destruction, that Hitler may have had working nuclear weapons before the Allies did. Not likely, but possible.
On the other hand, we mustn’t pretend that there weren’t collaborators, or that Norwegian policeman weren’t crucially important when the Germans tried to round up Norwegian Jews. Among the most prominent Norwegian collaborators were two artist-celebrities. Novelist and playwright Knut Hamsun won the Nobel Prize for literature in 1920. In 1940, he was 80 years old, and estranged from his children. A pro-Nazi caregiver worked on his failing mind, and in 1942, he was able to travel to Germany and meet both Hitler and Joseph Goebbels, a meeting that so impressed him that he gave Goebbels the medal he’d been given with his Nobel Prize. After the war, Hamsun was briefly arrested for treason, but after medical evaluation, the court let him off with a small fine.
Another prominent Norwegian, the Wagnerian soprano Kirsten Flagstad, was accused of being a Nazi sympathizer. She was living in the U.S., performing at the Met, when Norway fell, in 1941. Her husband Henry Johansen remained in Norway, and asked her to join him, which, with much trepidation, she did. Johansen made a fortune during the war, profiteering on lumber and shipping, while Flagstad was allowed by the Nazi cultural officials to tour, though only to neutral Sweden and Switzerland. She was probably not actually a Nazi sympathizer, but her activities damaged her reputation badly after the war.
But, then, there was also Vidkun Quisling and his Nasjonal Samling party members. Their numbers weren’t consistent, but at their peak, there may have been as many as 100,000 NS members nationwide. When the Germans looked like they were winning, NS numbers went up; when it looked like the Germans were losing, NS members drifted away.
When the war ended, Quisling government officials were all arrested, and tried, but most escaped with small fines or short imprisonments. The exception was Quisling himself. The Norwegian criminal code did not have a provision for the death penalty. So Parliament passed a law mandating death as the penalty for acts of treason in 1940. They tried Quisling under that statute, and shot him, then rescinded the law.
I became fascinated with the subject of Norwegian Resistance theatre during the war years.
So, in 1990, I was in Norway to do research for my doctoral dissertation. I mostly spent my days in the archives of the Oslo University Library, which has a wonderful collection of theatre materials from all the theatre companies in the country. The one exception was the National Theatre; they kept their own archive, under their estimable company dramaturg, Arthur Holmoien. So those were my two main haunts; the National Theatre archive, and the Oslo University Library archive. (I also took quick research trips to Stockholm and Copenhagen). I became fascinated with the subject of Norwegian Resistance theatre during the war years. In Trondheim and in Bergen, theatres did provocative and daring productions of classic plays which they gave an anti-Nazi twist. They had to be careful, but they took remarkable chances, in a hostile environment.
The director of the Trondelagtheatret in Trondheim, Henry Gleditsch, was the most daring of these directors, with celebrated and wickedly subversive productions of such plays as LYSISTRATA, ANTIGONE, HENRY V and Ibsen’s BRAND. My dissertation dealt specifically with BRAND in production, which meant I needed most of one chapter just on Gleditsch. Sadly, Gleditsch, in addition to being a wonderfully transgressive theatre artist, was also a Resistance fighter. He was caught by the Gestapo after blowing up a bridge, and unceremoniously shot on the front steps of his theater building. But the National Theatre also did a BRAND production in 1942 (it was the only play done in every major theatre in Norway during the war).
And then, one night, as I was working away at the National Theatre archive, my new friend Arthur said ‘I couldn’t help but notice that you’re very interested in the war years. Have you ever heard of SISTE SKRIK (aka THE LAST SCREAM)?’ And Arthur told me the tale, of a playwriting contest, and this dreadful anti-Jewish play that had won and the actors’ Resistance. How they set the theatre on fire to prevent the play from opening. How they even got the theatre management to let them go up to the mountains and pick lingonberries. And how, on the much delayed opening night, as the actors performed deliberately badly and inaudibly, a German soldier fired his sidearm at one of them. And how the audience began applauding, likely saving the actor’s life.
A couple of years ago, a chance comment reminded me of SISTE SKRIK (aka THE LAST SCREAM), and I began once again thinking about the controversy surrounding it as the subject for a play. But unlike earlier attempts, the play came to me.
First, as a Norwegian-American, I wanted to celebrate the courageous resolve of the Norwegian Resistance to the Nazi occupation during World War II. I grew up hearing stories from my father, my aunt, and my grandparents, about the ways ordinary Norwegians fought oppression and hardship, the day-to-day challenges and difficulties.Second, I wanted to celebrate my family and my homeland.
Third, I wanted to celebrate the theatre. I have given my life to this magnificent art form. I love the people of the theatre, the individual grace and courage and dedication they daily exhibit.
Fourth, I wanted to honor the heroism and dangers faced by the trilogy of Nazi victims: Jews, Roma, Homosexuals.
The result is THE ICE FRONT, a celebration of the courage it takes to pretend to be someone you’re not in order to be who you are.
- Eric Samuelsen
About Plan-B Theatre
October 31, 2017
October 31, 2017
Winners have been selected for this giveaway courtesy The Empress Theatre.
Stay tuned for future giveaways!
October 24, 2017
Winners have been chosen for this Ticket Tuesday giveaway courtesy the Wasatch Contras.
October 10, 2017
A winner has been chosen for this giveaway courtesy Tracy Aviary.
Congrats to Dawn N. in West Valley City!