In our current post-truth world, where the sifting, delineation, and dissemination of information through social media platforms has blurred the lines of what is considered fact or fiction, the idea of masks, where an individual can hide behind a particular character and persona, has translated to the dark corners of the internet in an almost inhumane capacity. People now feel emboldened to say whatever they want without repercussions, whether one agrees or not with what is being said. And if there are repercussions, what is the actual resolution without muddying the outcome more? Relativism at its finest. There are no absolute truths. Where does that continuum end? My hope is to show the character Natasha representing the one shining light in this play within an already dark world, to combat the distortion of facts and truth. – Jed Alexander
A few observations now that the Hollywood Fringe Festival has been over for two months…
I was inspired to write down these thoughts, and post the pictures below, when I found out that I might not be able to get access to a video recording of my first play. A video was done by my co-producer but, due to my lack of experience as a producer and my carelessness, I didn’t inquire about it in a timely way. When I finally did, two months after Fringe was over, it was too late: the co-producer, Justin Key, and the director, Jed Alexander, both gave me the cold shoulder. And when that happened, I panicked: “Maybe it was all a dream. No video. Disowned by my collaborators. Did it really happen? Crying for Squirt City!”
The play—Nights in Squirt City, Phukenburg—was, in my book, a success. Jed did a fine job. He was complimentary about my writing. He worked extremely hard. He assembled a fabulous group of actors. When we really started rehearsing, it was a joy to see it all come together.
There were three big issues as we prepared our project. First of all, since it’s a festival with four hundred shows, rehearsal spaces and times for the shows are inconvenient and limited. Second, people kept dropping out due to the shocking and dark nature of the story. Third, I never really developed a great rapport with Jed.
This happened the night of the table read: I arrived at his apartment building early. We were supposed to use the community room for our reading. Since I was early and didn’t feel like waiting in the street, I asked some neighbors if they would let me into the building, and they said yes. I walked into the community room, and a few minutes later Jed saw me as he came in from another entrance: “What are you doing here? Why did they let you in? It’s outrageous that people off the street are being let in! Hold on, I’m going to text the management …” And for the next five minutes that was all he could think of.
Once, I wrote a five-hundred word email explaining my intentions in a scene, and he wrote back, “All very unclear.” In some basic way, we never clicked.
What drove me crazy was that Jed kept referring to the setting of my piece as the “dark web.” It’s not the dark web by any stretch of the imagination. It’s a chat room.
But after fifty to a hundred lengthy messages, he finally understood and ended up with a good show. I was pleased with the result (with one flaw I won’t go into now).
In other words, the finished product was an island of perfection in a sea of chaos.
It came as a blow to me to realize that not only did I not have a video of our play but that both the people I’d worked so closely with have moved on and washed their hands of me. Maybe when you’re Done in Hollywood you really are DONE.
As for that Justin Key…He’s got 9,000 Facebook friends plus six hundred followers, and every little bit of show business wisdom he imparts to his fans (mostly former and current students at AMDA) gets at least 150 likes (“You rock, Justin!” “Dope!” “Yeah!”), but there’s no substance behind the glitzy façade. During the months we worked together, he’d occasionally vanish for days on end. “Justin will work magic for us, you’re gonna love it!” Our Justin may be a popular and charismatic mentor at his junior college, but he did next to nothing when it came to social media, promoting, getting postcards and posters made, reaching out to other shows, coming up with creative ideas to attract an audience, or going to Fringe workshops and meetings.
The cast couldn’t have been more different: the lovely Zulima, the enthusiastic Andrew and Jonathan, the loud and funny Arnie, the profound Joe… I miss them. What happened to our little community? With every day that passes, the lines these actors spoke disappear further from memory…
I’m now in the midst of my next project, Revocable Trust. Of course I will make sure to hire a videographer. But, beyond that, I find myself rebelling against the fleetingness and maybe even the futility of theatre. All that work. All those meetings. All that time. For what? On the other hand, now that I’m working with a pro—John Coppola—I’m beginning to sense that the process as well as the product can be fulfilling and satisfying.