Dressers think a lot of stupid things are funny. Like the way a single hanger can travel from location to location throughout the show. Or naming ensemble characters with ridiculous names. (In Ghost Light, Peter Macon’s character in the film sequence is named Baboo, and Danforth Comin’s “Man 1” has become Keith-Bobby. Hell, we even think it's funny when George Moscone’s shirt magnetizes itself to the refrigerator backstage.)
One of our favorite things to bide our time thinking about is the realism of quick changes. Last season, fellow dresser Alex Zeek and I spent much of our time obsessing over the fact that, in Three Sisters, Natasha had a quick change that occurred in real time of the play, so there should not have been two dressers changing her — in the reality of their Chekovian world, poor Natasha would have had only the help of one little woman, Anfisa, and I’m guessing it wouldn’t all go down in a minute and a half.
But that, my friends, is the reality and magic, of living breathing theatre, which takes me to the root of our story, the rise in our action, and the quick change that rocks the world. Yes, folks, you guessed right: I am talking about the transformation of Mr. Bill Geisslinger from seedy prison guard to the honorable Mayor Moscone.
Bill Geisslinger as Mayor Moscone in the background with Tyler James Myer; Christopher Liam Moore in the foreground. Photo by kevinberne.com
Quick changes such as this are choreographed with the grace and beauty of Olympic-level synchronized swimming. Alex and I arrive in the stage right quick-change room about six minutes before the Prison Guard exits his last scene. We prep the room: chair in the center, pants pooled on the floor, shoes out of the way, pre-tied necktie on my arm, and magnetic shirt in my hands — all awaiting the arrival of Bill and his arms.
After the gunshots and dreamworld transition music, the auditions begin with Reggie van Huuson. Our cue “It’s Van HOOOOOOOsen” is the moment Bill arrives, sliding his arms into his shirt like a snake darting at the neck of a small child. Standing behind him, I slide the tie over his head while the shirt magnetizes itself closed. Alex unzips his gnarly boots while Bill drops his pants and sits in the chair. Alex then puts his legs through the pant legs, and slides on his shoes, while Bill and I apply the Moscone wig to his head. I glue down the sideburns and hold them as Bill stands up, buckles his pants and belt, and turns toward the mirror. I continue to apply pressure while Alex helps him into his glasses and wedding band. I clip the toupee clips that hold the back of the wig to his own hair as Bill perfects the infamous Moscone curl at his forhead. Alex runs to page the curtain for his entrance, while I help Bill into his suit coat. And by the time the Puppeteers and Ghost puppet are done with their audition piece, Bill has left my sight, like a ghost, vanishing into the depths of backstage blackness.
I am left to clean up my brush and adhesive, and scram so that Barbara Blair can change Louise into her last show look.
I grab my wig block and walk the stairs back to the wig room, knowing that I will do nearly the same thing again tomorrow, in a job that is monotonous, but never mundane.
Sarita Ocon, the Moscone wig, and I wait in the green room for our next cues in act two.
It's hard to believe that a whole year has gone by since Mike Daisey performed The Agony and The Ecstasy of Steve Jobs on our Thrust Stage. Even then it was clear: for Mike, this wasn't just about creating a successful theatre piece -- it was about changing the values of one of the largest, most popular American corporations.
Or, perhaps, "American and Chinese corporations."
Because, as the Twitterverse pointed out recently, for all its billions, Apple has $0 in American manufacturing. (Again, that's from Twitter. Debate at will.) (Also from the Twitterverse: "People, we're also responsible b/c of our lust for the products.")
The waves that started here in Berkeley have reached epic proportions in New York, where Agony enjoyed a terrific run at The Public -- and returns there on January 31.
In the meantime, the largest tidal wave came in the form of a special episode of This American Life featuring a portion of Daisey's monologue followed by a rigorous discussion and debate. It aired the weekend of January 6. Mike Daisey reports that it's the most downloaded episode in This American Life's history. Listen to it. I heard part of it in the car and was mesmerized -- thankfully, I wasn't the one driving.
And yesterday, the New York Times posted this article, which has since moved up the front page of its site and garnered over 1,000 comments.
Earlier this week, Mike emailed "Some Big News" to Berkeley Rep, among many others. I had seen a version of this email on his Facebook wall, and I'll excerpt it here. After all, Mike can say it so much better:
"That same week [as the TAL airing] news broke that hundreds of Foxconn workers had a stand-off that lasted two days, where they were all threatening mass suicide by throwing themselves off the roof of the plant over their working conditions.
http://tinyurl.com/7tbtoo8
"This is at Foxconn, a company which Apple's own 2011 Supplier Responsibility Report said was completely up to code, and which Apple applauded for their efforts. This is the company about which Steve Jobs said the employees enjoyed a virtual paradise of movie theaters, swimming pools, and luxury.
"A week after our show was broadcast, Apple made an abrupt announcement. After years of stonewalling and silence, they released the full list of their suppliers, and agreed to outside, independent monitoring of working conditions in the factories they use. It is not everything, but it is a small step down the right road.
http://tinyurl.com/6ojorxx
"Many news outlets are crediting THE AGONY AND THE ECSTASY OF STEVE JOBS for being a large factor in Apple's decision. I've received a number of emails from Apple employees who have told me they believe that hearing this story on THIS AMERICAN LIFE, a program many Apple employees listen to with their families and their children, created "a morale situation" that finally compelled Apple to begin to do the right thing.
"I would like to thank everyone who has heard this story and then told it on to the next person. In theater we sometimes doubt that we can effect change—I think we all doubt it, sometimes. The truth is that telling stories, person to person, is the best way we have ever had of connecting to the human—and whatever this show may or may not have achieved, it has come out of the conversations happening night after night after night."
And thank you, Mike, for telling the story first.
Berkeley Rep's shops are filled with pretty awesome, talented artisans who are always curious and ready to learn new things (and build some awesome things too). That tradition continued last Friday when the costume shop hosted an in-house fabric origami workshop taught by the amazing artist Chris Palmer, author of Shadowfolds. He taught members of the costume, prop, and scenic shops his method of folding fabric to make three-dimensional geometric designs.
Kitty Muntzel, the costume shop's draper, instigated this post -- and pointed me to a terrific blog post by our Scenic Charge Artist Lisa Lazar, who allowed me to repost it (with some slight changes) here.
I could a tale unfold...
On Friday I had the great fortune to participate in a workshop with artist Chris Palmer.
Or your laptop. Or even the newest search features on Google that save us all the hassle of pulling down the dusty Encyclopedia Brittanica from the shelf.* (Alright, so maybe not while #SOPA and #PIPA were in effect, but even still...)
Last week, Berkeley Rep played host to a lunchtime gathering of 30 of our city's brightest high-tech innovators. The monthly Infusion lunch series, hosted by Sylvia Paull, welcomed Seymour Rubinstein, a veteran computer programmer and tech guru, to talk about his newest endeavor. Most of the attendees also participate in the Berkeley Startup Cluster, a relatively new initiative that encourages local high-tech companies to create a home for themselves in Berkeley. Here's a photo from the event, captured by our very own Robert Sweibel:
Many of our lunchtime guests are also Berkeley Rep regulars. Perhaps you can start an interesting conversation with your fellow audience members the next time you're at the Theatre. (Tip: these folks go crazy when you ask them about their favorite programming language.**)
* Nothing against encyclopedias.
** That's where they lost me.
At the opening night reception for Ghost Light, actor Bill Geisslinger and I encountered two things: tiny cups of wine and audience disbelief. It went a little something like this:
Kyle from Marketing: Congrats!
Me (sipping tiny wine cup): Thanks Kyle, it’s so nice to finally be open!
Kyle: So I have to know, in real life, Bill Geisslinger has very light gray hair, but as the prison guard it's black…
Me: (Sip second tiny cup of wine in preparation for the following:)
Well Kyle, and other curious Berkeley Rep patrons, I am so glad I am here to demystify the quizzical hair situation of my good friend Billy G. (That is the rap name I bequeathed him, but don’t tell, he doesn’t know yet.)
Bill Geisslinger haunts Christopher Liam Moore in Ghost Light. Photo by kevinberne.com