Letters to Holly

Wednesday, July 2

Talking Scripts

The script committee now has until August to choose the plays. We also need to pick more of them. Instead of the original four, we need to pick seven. Because the board isn't sure when and where the next season will run, it wants extra choices in case we produce more shows to make up for lost ticket sales.

We're in the home stretch for play consideration, but we're still getting new scripts. I just finished The Trial of Ebenezer Scrooge, a small show I was given yesterday. I have three more before next week's meeting. We have plenty of good shows to choose from, and now we're building consensus.

I went head-to-head with another member over two farces written by the same guy. They're very similar, and one, I think, is clearly superior. She wanted the other one on the grounds that the theatre already performed the script I liked. My point was that the theatre made that choice for a reason, and the other script shouldn't be presented just to be "fair" to it. This is a show she really wants to do, though. I agreed that a play so similar to the one I prefer can't be all bad, but it's clearly inferior. It's much like a bad episode of "Three's Company."

The committee is wary of doing dramas. Every theatre thinks dramas are the least-commercial choice to present and the hardest shows to cast. I don't agree. I think you're likely to get more actors when they don't have to sing. We might do Glass Menagerie, a show I did in 2002. We're also going to look at The Rainmaker. We can't just offer comedies and mysteries. We need meatier stuff, and I think a good show will bring in audiences, no matter what genre it represents.

Your Sis is trying stir-fry made on the grill. We have a new porous wok, and we're grilling corncobs give to us by Your Parents.

The recent funerals are giving me weird dreams. Last night, I dreamed I was one of the few survivors of a planetwide disaster. I scavenged and set up residency in the remains of My Parents' house. Last night, I chopped an onion, and it almost got me weepy for real. I'm obviously affected by recent events, and I'm not sure how to wring them out.

Picture of the Day
David Cronenberg and Placido Domingo are making an opera version of the former's The Fly. That was a remake of the original '50s grade-b horror film. Opera is desperately trying to remain relevant and bring in younger audiences. This -- and the hit London Jerry Springer opera -- is the right path.

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