My 24 Hour Project Script – A Cup of Sugar

As is customary, I post my 10-minute play scripts after they are initially performed. Also, as is customary, I offer my scripts up free of charge for other theatres to produce if they wish to do so. My only stipulation is that they ask permission by emailing me at kevintcraig @ hotmail.com first. I like to know when and where my plays are being performed. I had one of these short scripts performed across the world, from Australia to India to several states in the USA. It’s a thrill for me to know they are getting traction.

The 24 Hour Project was a fundraiser for MYSTERIOUS ENTITY THEATRE. Mysterious Entity is a company of theatre artists based in Peterborough, Ontario. The 24 Hour Project took place at GORDON BEST THEATRE in downtown Peterborough.

From their website:

mysterious entity represents:

-theatre as empowerment

-innovation and exploration

-communities in creative exchange

-complexity and diversity

-theatre as a communal experience

-making change by connecting audiences and artists

Headed by Em Glasspool, the 24 Hour Project was such a exciting dynamic piece of theatre. 5 playwrights – 5 plays – from inception to performance in 24 short hours. Em himself even acted in one of the short plays. This was the first short play festival in which I took part where there were almost no prior stipulations set out for the playwrights. We weren’t even kept to the usual 10-minute timing format. This made it a little bit more exciting for me, as I was able to wander off in any direction. The only string that tied each play together was a single sentence that had to be used in every play. On Friday night Em ran around to other patrons at the ONLY CAFE in Peterborough and asked them for text messages on their phones. He’s braver than me…it was interesting seeing strangers open up their phones and give their text messages freely.

The sentence that appeared in every play?

“I just discovered eleven ice cream sandwiches in my fridge.”

The text actually said FREEZER, but there was a bit of lost in translation happening. In my opinion, this made the sentence even more interesting. (-:

So, without further ado, here is the script from this past Saturday’s 24 Hour Project,

TITLE: A CUP OF SUGAR

PLAYWRIGHT: K Thomas Craig

SYNOPSIS: On again off again warring siblings get together to meet the new boyfriend and sling some more arrows.

CHARACTERS:

  • JOEY
  • BEN – Joey’s new live-in boyfriend
  • DARLENE – Joey’s older sister
  • WILSON – Darlene’s husband
  • HARPER – Joey’s neighbour – a flamboyant old queen who feels more comfortable in a caftan than a pair of jeans. (Present however the director/actor sees fit)

SETTING

JOEY & BEN’S APARTMENT

DARLENE [arms folded in a hostile stance. Looks around, appraises the place]: I guess it’s okay. It is a little minimalist though, Joseph. Don’t you think? Your last place with Collin was so nice.

JOEY: It’s Joey.

DARLENE: What. Are you twelve?

JOEY: The name’s Joey, Dar. Always has been, always will be. My name; my rules. And you were supposed to come in peace, goddammit. You said you would come in peace.

DARLENE: Release the fangs, little brother. I see you still have that charming confrontational attitude you’ve always had. The revolution’s over Joseph. Time to step down off that mountain.

JOEY: What does that even mean? And, it’s Joey.

BEN [looking to Wilson]: Were they always like this?

WILSON: Depends on what you mean by always.

DARLENE [turning quick to Wilson]: I thought you weren’t going to talk to the boyfriend?

WILSON [shrugs]: And I thought you weren’t gonna start in on Joey the second we got in the door?

JOEY: Why wouldn’t you talk to Ben? What’d he ever do?

WILSON: I didn’t mean anything by it. I was just being pissy earlier. You know how it is.

BEN: No worries, Wilson. It’s all good. I get it. I’m the new guy. Allegiances and all.

DARLENE: But do you really get it, Ben? Collin was around for forever. He was my brother-in-law. We loved him. That kind of makes you the other man. The homewrecker.

JOEY: Homewrecker, Dar? Really?

DARLENE: If you get to be Joey, then I get to be DarLENE.

JOEY: Collin cheated on me and then left me for another guy. Ben had nothing to do with that. We met after. Collin’s gone because of Collin. Can we stop using his name? I’ll have to get the apartment smudged to rid it of his bad mojo.

DARLENE: You never mentioned that. How was I supposed to know what happened?

JOEY: You’re never around. How was I supposed to tell you?

WILSON: Tough break, kid. Sorry to hear that. And sorry I wasn’t here.

JOEY: It’s in the past now. But thank you, Wils.

WILSON [ruffles Joey’s hair]: No sweat, kid. So I guess this means I can be nice to your new beau now, all things considered.

BEN: Would definitely be appreciated.

WILSON: Let’s start over, shall we? [holds out his hand] I’m Wilson.

BEN [shakes Wilson’s hand vigorously]: Ben. Nice to meet you.

DARLENE: My friggin’ guitar’s busted up, otherwise I’d play Kumbaya for you, boys. Can we put a cap on the cheese before we get too carried away? I didn’t bring my macaroni with me.

JOEY: What’s wrong, DAR? Can’t stomach civility? You really do take after Mom, don’t you? If we’re not throwing punches, you don’t know what to do with your hands. I get it. That’s why pockets were invented…repressed rage. Just shove those fists right down in there and things’ll work out fine.

DARLENE: Why do I bother trying to reconnect with you? Could somebody remind me why we do this dance every few years? It would be so much easier to just be done with you and your theatrics.

WILSON: French toast.

BEN/JOEY: What?

WILSON: French toast. French toast!

DARLENE: Not called for yet, Wilson. I’m holding my own. I’m the picture of pleasantry.

BEN: What’s not called for? What’s going on here?

DARLENE: I wasn’t talking to you. [turns to Joey] Joseph, why is your new man being so nosy?

JOEY: It’s Joey. What’s French toast?

WILSON: It’s our safe word.

JOEY: Safe word?

DARLENE [glares at Wilson for spilling the secret]: He says the word, I remember I’m trying to be nice to you. French toast is two words, Wilson. I told you that earlier. I thought we were going with lemonade. Are we safe yet?

JOEY: Really? You need a safe word? You need to be reminded to be nice to your own brother? Your little brother, even?

BEN: I once poured an entire Long Island Iced Tea over my sister’s head. I can appreciate French toast in this context, babe. A safe word might have prevented that terrible situation from happening.

WILSON: There you go.

[WILSON and BEN high-five]

DARLENE [to Wilson]: I preferred your plan to be combative and non-communicative. You being nice just makes me look like an asshole.

JOEY: Or… maybe you’re doing that all by yourself.

WILSON: French toast.

[There’s a knock at the door.]

JOEY: Saved by the bell. [calls out] Door’s open.

HARPER [from offstage]: Hello? Hello, my little piggies. It’s just me. It’s Auntie Harper. Hello?!

BEN: Come in, Harper. We’re just visiting with Joey’s sister and brother-in-law.

HARPER [from offstage]: Oh, sweeties. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude.

DARLENE [stage whisper to Joey]: Why don’t I believe that?

HARPER [holding out a measuring cup, purse first, barging into the room]: My lovelies, Auntie Harper needs a cup of sugar. I’m making a batch of muffins and Heather’s on a sugar cleanse. The bitch tossed all my white stuff down the chute. Blames me for the new roundness in her hips, if you can believe it.

BEN [taking the measuring cup from Harper]: I’ll see what I can do.

JOEY: Let me come with.

DARLENE: It takes two to pour a cup of sugar these days? Did I miss that memo?

[BEN and JOEY exit to retrieve the sugar]

WILSON: French—

DARLENE: Don’t even bother. That ship has sailed.

HARPER: Honey, I’m not much for ships. I’m a landlover. But I do like the French. What are we talking about?

DARLENE [gives Harper the side-eye]: You’re just a bit too high-octane there, mister. If anyone ever needed a safe-word, it’s you. Do you stop to breathe or are there gills in there somewhere?

HARPER: Miss Thang, no. You need to cool your jets, honey. Don’t go doing this nasty business in these lovely boys’ home. You’ll spoil the atmosphere. You need to land now and push the broom aside.

WILSON: Whoa-hoa-hoa. [goes to high five Harper and backtracks not soon enough…realizing too late what he’s done]

DARLENE: I suppose you’re fully on Team Joseph now too, are you? That didn’t take long.

WILSON: Joey.

DARLENE: Good Lord in heaven. Have I no allies today?

[JOEY and BEN return with an empty cup]

JOEY: I’m so sorry, Miss Harper. I was certain we had sugar. We just had tea last night. We’re right out.

HARPER: That’s okay, honey. Remember… Heather has a key. The evil witch probably came in here and took all your sugar too. She’s good, that one. Diabolical.

BEN [hands Harper the measuring cup]: Sorry, Harp. I guess we don’t get any of your yummy homemade muffins now?

HARPER: I have a tasteless sugar-free vegan cardboard and sawdust recipe somewhere. I’ll dig it out just for you, child.

BEN: That’s okay, Miss Harper. Don’t trouble yourself.

HARPER: Truth be told, Ben, I was just being nosy anyway. Just checking up on my boys. Mother hen’s gonna be henning.

[Harper looks to Darlene and points their fingers at their own eyes and then rotates them towards Darlene, bouncing back and forth a couple times]

DARLENE: What’s that supposed to mean.

HARPER: Means what it means, Joey’s sister. I got my eye on you. I’ve heard stories. I’ll be watching you.

DARLENE: Of all the—

WILSON: French toast.

DARLENE: Joseph. Joey. Are you telling family secrets? To strangers. You know I love you, don’t you? You know my anger is usually out of love, right? You get that, don’t you?

HARPER: Sister, anger’s just a recipe for sadness. Anger’s a muffin without the sugar. Nobody wants a sugarless muffin, honey. Where I come from, that’s just a rock. Something to throw. My understanding is Joey’s all you have and you’re all he has. Why complicate that tenuous bond with anger? It’s lazy of you.

DARLENE: I didn’t come here to get lectured on my relationship with my brother. Especially by the likes of you. We’re doing fine, thank you very much.

JOEY: We are?

WILSON: French toast. French toast.

HARPER: All’s I’m saying is family, chosen or otherwise, is all we got. Wouldn’t you like to be around more often? Aren’t these two of the loveliest boys you ever met?

DARLENE: Well, I only just met Ben. I don’t really know him all that much.

HARPER: I dislike when my point is proven so quickly by the other side. Honey, you’re doing all my work for me.

DARLENE: Did you come here to attack me?

WILSON: French toast.

DARLENE: Okay, Wilson. We all get it. Enough with the French toast.

HARPER: Oddly, that is the one thread in this conversation that has me absolutely perplexed. Does it have something to do with the sugar ruse? Because I wasn’t really looking for sugar. We’re all clear on that, aren’t we?

JOEY: But our sugar has been confiscated. So.

BEN [to Wilson]: Want to see the den? I should show you the den.

WILSON: I thought you’d never ask.

[BEN and WILSON exit the stage]

HARPER [to Darlene]: Look. You could be a really sweet girl for all I know. If you’re even half as lovely as your brother here, you’re my kind of people. I just came to let you know how special he really is. I mean no foul.

DARLENE: I’m sorry. I get my back up sometimes. [turns to Joey] You know Momma always played us against each other, don’t you?

JOEY: Which is why we really should call a truce, Darlene. This war’s gone on long enough.

DARLENE: I swear, sometimes I feel like my life is nothing but a walking disaster. If I don’t get angry and defensive it’ll all just slip away from me. Best to have the upper hand. Take it by the throat and choke.

HARPER: Honey, please. I just discovered eleven ice cream sandwiches in my fridge. If that’s not disaster porn, I don’t know what is. You get to be my age and you find your toilet paper in the microwave and your dishtowel in the freezer. I’m just saying take it easy. Learn to exhale.

DARLENE [sighs]: What I wouldn’t give for an ice cream sandwich right about now.

HARPER: Honey, you’re welcome to them. The point I was making, however, is that all eleven have perished and died to death. They’re as soup as soup gets. My addled old brain mistook the fridge for the freezer and joy has died this day. There’s no coming back from that kind of mistake.

DARLENE: Well, it must have been a twelve-pack, no? Perhaps there was a little happiness on the way home from the store?

HARPER: See what I mean. There’s hope for you yet. Find the good bits. If you can’t sift through the wreckage and find the light, there’s no point breathing.

JOEY: Why do I feel like a third wheel in this conversation? Are you two actually getting along?

DARLENE: Oh, for heaven’s sake, Joseph—um—I mean, Joey. Are you jealous now? I can’t talk to your neighbour?

HARPER [raises their measuring cup to the sky]: You know. I think my work here might almost be done. I should be off before I overstay. Leave them wanting more, my old daddy used to say.

JOEY: Thanks for looking in, Harper. Appreciate it.

HARPER: Son, you moved in next door to a hurricane. I’m always gonna barge in on things. Especially when I sense a problem brewing. Neighbours borrowing a cup of sugar is almost never about the sugar.

DARLENE: I’m not sure what just happened here, but maybe thank you for the distraction?

HARPER: Honey, all I’m here for is sugar. I don’t know what it is you’re referring to. I’d certainly like to know this French toast business, though. But we’ll keep that for another time. You make sure you check in more often, now. Joey told me some nice things too, you know. He misses you when you’re not around. Family’s all we have in the end, ain’t it. Chosen or otherwise.

[BEN and WILSON return to the stage]

BEN: Leaving so soon, Harper?

HARPER: Honey child, I’ll say it yet again. I came only for a cup of sugar.

DARLENE: It was nice to meet you.

HARPER: The same to you. Maybe next time you can stop by for an ice cream sandwich. I’ll be sure to put them in the freezer this time ‘round. I’m 708. Just two doors down the hall. Don’t, whatever you do, knock on 706. Old man Jones’ll tear you a new one just for knocking.

DARLENE: That sounds nice. The ice cream sandwich, I mean. I’d like that.

HARPER: Well, the invitation’s real.

JOEY: Thanks, Harper.

HARPER: Child, no need to thank me for crashing your party. You should never reward bad manners.

JOEY: No. Really. Thank you. [kisses Harper’s cheek]

HARPER: Best be on my way now. I’ve been holding this ridiculous cup long enough.

[HARPER exits]

DARLENE: Should we maybe try this again soon, JOEY? Our place? Supper? Next Saturday? We can have a real visit, maybe get to know Ben a little better if that’s okay?

JOEY: I’d like that, sis. Yeah, let’s do that.

FADE OUT

END PLAY

Again…if you wish to use this play, please feel free to do so. Just…PLEASE email me first. At kevintcraig @ hotmail.com Thank you so much!

Bed & Breakfast in the Distillery District – Mark Crawford’s Play Comes to Soulpepper Theatre (A Review)

The story of small-town gays leaving home for the brighter lights and safer havens of the big city streets is a well known one. Gays have been escaping the tyranny of close-minded homophobic home towns for so long, it’s a well worn trope. Growing up in the 80s, Bronski Beat‘s Small Town Boy became an anthem for thousands upon thousands of young gays stuck in horrible nightmare existences, fending off bullies at school and homophobic parents at home. The battle was never-ending. The song informed some of a way out, as it reminded others of the way they escaped.

Mark Crawford’s play, BED & BREAKFAST, turns this escape from small-town oppression ass over teakettle. He brings the gays back into town. Brett and Drew are a gay couple who inherit a family home when Brett’s beloved Aunt Maggie passes on. While they struggle with the chaos of their careers in the big city of Toronto, they slowly imagine themselves chucking it all in and retreating to the quieter existence and the more down to earth affordability of the small town in which their newly acquired home is located. Against the better judgement of their ridiculously flamboyant real estate agent friend, they eventually succumb to the notion and leave the city lights behind.

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Bed & Breakfast, now playing at SOULPEPPER THEATRE in the Distillery District (August 11th – September 2nd, 2018)

I want to say hilarity ensues. In fact, if I did I would be hitting the nail on the head. Because HILARITY ENSUES. I actually can’t remember the last time I laughed so much at a play. If Bed & Breakfast were a kid on the playground at recess, it would probably share its snack with NOISES OFF. It’s that kind of high-jinx funny. It’s so intelligent and witty and fast-paced. The same kind of high-camp that brought tears to my eyes while watching the bedlam and madness of NOISES OFF. Bed & Breakfast is gorgeously hilarious. I had a hard time choosing which of the two actors I adored more. They each play a bevy of different characters and the way they transform from one character to another is often as funny as the characters themselves. Both Paolo Santalucia and Gregory Prest were flawless. Just spectacular. If you go, keep your eye out for those first appearances of Santalucia’s earrings and Prest’s hoodie going up. Absolutely delightful.

I think the greatest achievement the two actors pull off is the absoluteness of the character transformations. At times the switches from character to character are so instantaneous and frequent, there’s the equivalent of a crowd on stage…and it is only the two of them, each juggling characters with such accurate perfection the audience never loses track of who’s appearing. How they kept the balls in the air, I’ll never know.

Now for the reason I hesitated in saying hilarity ensues. This play was extremely hard-hitting. As much as I laughed, I also cried. That’s because Mark Crawford nailed small town bigotry in a few brief instances that really took my breath away. This playwright has a powerful way of drawing in the audience with laughter, making them feel comfortable about what it is they are there for…a few great laughs. When he pulls the rug out from under you with the hard-hitting truth that not everything in the gay world is kikis and Cher and rainbows and glitter, you’re unprepared…but you also somehow know it was coming. It’s built into the premise of the play. Problems were bound to arise. The gays dared to return to the small town they escaped.

If BED & BREAKFAST is not yet on your radar, it should be. It’s a heart-wrenching, heart-warming story told with great comedic timing and soul. The depiction of what it’s like to be gay and facing homophobia and bigotry, as well as its opposite when the stakes are raised and support and love flood in, is so spot on it will break your heart if you’ve experienced it yourself in the past. If you haven’t, you’ll see it played out accurately on the Soulpepper stage. Without giving away too much, there’s a scene with a man in his 80s–a neighbour to the gay couple who opened their bed and breakfast–that will tear at your heartstrings. It’s the rub, perhaps of the story itself. When the ugliness of the world shows itself, there’s only one way to tamp it down. LOVE.

GO. SEE. BED & BREAKFAST. As they say, “you will laugh, you will cry.” It will definitely move you.

CLICK HERE FOR THE BED & BREAKFAST PAGE ON THE SOULPEPPER THEATRE WEBSITE.

DIRECT LINK TO TICKETS

BED & BREAKFAST by MARK CRAWFORD

Running at SOULPEPPER THEATRE

in TORONTO’s DISTILLERY DISTRICT

from AUGUST 11TH TO SEPTEMBER 2ND!

Bed & Breakfast Now Playing at Soulpepper Theatre!

Canadian playwright Mark Crawford‘s play BED & BREAKFAST is currently on at Soulpepper Theatre in the Distillery District of Toronto. I’ve been waiting for this one! I can’t wait to see it tonight!

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Here’s the synopsis from the Soulpepper website:

CANADA 2015

When Brett inherits the family home, he and Drew move out of fast-paced Toronto to set up a B&B in a picturesque tourist town. But will these big city boys face friction in their new community? With dozens of hilarious characters, all portrayed by two actors, Bed and Breakfast is a heartwarming comedy about “being out” in small town Ontario, family skeletons in the closet, and finding a place to call home.

Bed & Breakfast is an LGBTQ story set in Ontario. Fantastic to see LGBTQ representation on stage in our city. This was enough to draw me in. It promises to be a hilarious show, too. What sounds most intriguing is that the cast is made up of only 2 actors (Gregory Prest & Paolo Santalucia). “Dozens of hilarious characters, all portrayed by two actor.” Yep! I’m here for that! Especially when it’s Soulpepper putting on the production. Everything I’ve seen from them thus far has been flawless.

You can catch BED & BREAKFAST from now until September 2nd, but don’t wait…I’m guessing tickets will go quickly. And it’s in an incredible Toronto neighbourhood, too! There’s some great restaurants in the Distillery District. We’ll be heading to El Catrin, a Mexican restaurant, ahead of the show for a certain someone’s BIRTHDAY celebration dinner!

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Distillery District in Toronto, a gorgeous neighbourhood…and the home of Soulpepper Theatre!

There’s a bit of a warning on this one>>> “Note: This production contains strong/mature language.”

If I were able, I’d definitely check out the their new interactive feature MATINEE MORNINGS. Matinee Mornings offer an engaging and interactive 90 minute workshop prior to the August 22 matinee performance.” If your Wednesday mornings are free, you can check out the details for this performance HERE.

YOU CAN GO DIRECTLY TO THE BUY TICKETS PAGE FOR BED & BREAKFAST BY CLICKING HERE.

As always, Soulpepper Theatre has an interactive hashtag for you to become a part of the conversation around BED & BREAKFAST.

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Soulpepper Theatre is located right inside the Distillery District in the Young Centre for the Performing Arts, Toronto.

JOIN THE CONVERSATION USING #spBedBreakfast

I’m really looking forward to tonight’s performance! Can’t wait to see what they do with this play!

 

Orlando at Soulpepper Theatre with a Book Club Tie-In!

After taking in the amazing production of La Bete at Soulpepper Theatre this past spring, I’ve been keeping my eye on their schedule for new shows. Turns out, they found a way to mash two of my favourite things–Theatre and Books. When I saw that they’re putting on a production of Virginia Woolf’s ORLANDO, I was excited. Then I discovered they’re also running a book club for those who want to read the book ahead of the show. How awesome is that!

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Readers can participate in online book club discussion as they read ORLANDO pre-show. AND on certain performance nights there will be post-show talkback with other book-lovers.

We’ll be taking in one of these shows ourselves. I’m re-reading the book right now to familiarize myself with it. There’s still LOTS of time to do so, if you pick it up right now.

As you read, you can use the #Soulpepperbookclub hashtag to discuss the book with other readers. And it’s quite the book. If you’re not familiar with Orlando, it’s about a poet who lives for centuries and changes sex from man to woman and meets key figures of English literary history along the way. It’s considered a feminist classic, and is often the topic of gender and transgender studies. Pick it up today and read it ahead of the production!

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If you’re a book geek slash theatre geek like we are, this will be right up your alley. After you click on the BUY TICKETS button, don’t forget to use the code BOOKCLUB for entry to the show and post-show discussion group. HERE’S THE LINK:

OH! Also, the book is super cheap at Amazon. Less than $2. I had to buy a Kindle copy, since I long ago lost contact with my paperback. I grabbed THIS VERSION HERE FOR $0.99 for my Kindle. If you DO read along, come to twitter to chat about it using the #soulpepperbookclub tag. I believe the play itself has a hashtag too… #spOrlando

See you there! Psssssst…we’ll be at Friday’s performance if you’d care to join us. Now I have to go do some reading…

LA BÊTE Coming to SOULPEPPER!

I can’t believe we haven’t gone to the theatre yet in 2018! Time to rectify this. Next Wednesday (May 16th, 2018) is opening night for La Bête at Soulpepper Theatre! In case you’re wondering, it runs through to June 22nd…lots of time to arrange tickets and get there. Us? We’ll be there on opening night!

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La Bête – Soulpepper (from Soulpepper website)

I absolutely LOVE a good comedy. And as a playwright, I know they are one of the hardest things to write. The thing about La Bête, which is an award-winning Broadway play, is that it’s written in RHYMED COUPLETS OF IAMBIC PENTAMETER!

Why the ALL-CAPS, you may ask. Because my FAVOURITE PLAYWRIGHT OF ALL-TIME also wrote in rhymed couplets of iambic pentameter. Co-incidence?, you may be asking. No. Well, not exactly. It’s actually because La Bête is an homage to–or at least inspired by–Molière. He wrote my favourite play, Tartuffe (I wrote a post last year on this blog about seeing Tartuffe for the first time on stage—after loving it for decades on paper). The thing is Tartuffe was first performed in 1664. For the La Bête playwright, David Hirson, to have tackled rhyming couplets of iambic pentameter in 1991?! It blows me away. For the play to hit Broadway and be so well received? Magical!

And NOW we get it here in TORONTO! Courtesy of and thanks to SOULPEPPER.

The SOULPEPPER synopsis of the play:

La Bête is a modern comedy of classical insanity. When the Royal Patron grows weary of their theatre troupe, actors Elomire and Valere fight for survival, as art squares off with ego in a riotous theatrical showdown for the ages.

My own thoughts on the play:

This play was originally set in the France of 1654, which takes us back to 10 years prior to the opening of Molière‘s Tartuffe (see above–because I’m a theatre nerd and I notice these things). I really hope SOULPEPPER goes large with how revolted Elomire is with Valere. Elomire sees himself above Valere, who is a mere street performer. He also sees Valere as an idiot, unworthy of their theatre company. Valere is also large and in love with himself, but a total dolt. He misses the insults. The royal patron foists the two together and they are thrown into a sort of love it or list it situation–save the theatre or lose it. They just have to figure out how to get along long enough to pull off saving the theatre troupe.

I can’t wait!

VISIT THE SOULPEPPER WEBSITE TO FIND OUT WHAT THEY HAVE IN STORE FOR TORONTO THIS SPRING/SUMMER

VISIT THE LA BÊTE PAGE OF THEIR SITE FOR INFORMATION ON THE PLAY AND TO PURCHASE TICKETS!

LOCATION AND BOX OFFICE INFORMATION FOR SOULPEPPER

LA BÊTE

SOULPEPPER

Young Centre for the Performing Arts
50 Tank House Lane
Distillery Historic District
Toronto, ON M5A 3C4

RUNS: Wednesday May 16th – Friday June 22nd 2018

See you there!

Staged Readings of Two of My One-Act Plays…

THE HISTORY OF US and KING OF THE CREASE, two one-act plays I wrote, will be stage read NEXT TUESDAY (AUGUST 1st, 2017) from 7pm-9pm at Port Perry Church of the Ascension (266 North St. Port Perry).

Thanks to THEATRE 3×60 for putting this on. I was thrilled to find out that they were doing this with both of the first two one-act plays I have ever written.

If you recognize the title of the first one, THE HISTORY OF US, it’s because it began life as a 10-minute play…which I wrote for DRIFTWOOD THEATRE‘s TRAFALGAR 24 Play Creation Festival. I was fortunate enough to land two incredible actors for the original production of this play. Both Christopher Kelk and Adriano Sobretodo Jr. were phenomenal in their roles as Alzheimer’s suffering Charlie Wilkins and his son-in-law Ben. Making a ten minute play into a one-act was a difficult task, but creating more for and about these two characters was a labour of love. Charlie suffers from Alzheimer’s disease and is mourning the recent loss of his wife, while adjusting to the changes taking place in his life. These changes include moving in with his son and his partner…and dealing with the complications this entails with other family members.

In King of the Crease, we have retired NHL goalie Frank Eno, who is struggling with aging and chronic back pain. His live-in adult daughter has a suitor who Frank admires while others in his family do not. It’s the story of a father and son, in the end…disguised as more of a family drama.

I hope you will join THEATRE 3×60 next Tuesday to see how these two plays pan out on the stage.

3xCanadians Staged Readings – Kevin Craig, August 1, 2017

7:00 PM – 9:00 PM

Port Perry Church of the Ascension (266 North St. Port Perry)

Theatre 3×60’s summer company performs staged readings of Kevin Craig’s King of the Crease and The History of Us.

CLICK THE IMAGE BELOW TO BE TAKEN TO THE THEATRE 3×60 WEBSITE AND A DIRECT LINK TO WHERE YOU CAN BUY TICKETS TO THE EVENT FOR $10 EACH:

theatre360

BUY TICKETS HERE: https://squareup.com/store/theatre-3×60

 

A MESSAGE FOR WRITERS AND PLAYWRIGHTS: Staged Readings are interactive and the audience has an opportunity to provide feedback on the plays being read. These readings are GREAT WORKSHOP OPPORTUNITIES for playwrights and wanna-be playwrights. It will be a learning experience for anyone thinking of taking on playwriting. And, yes…it will be a terrifying experience for me, the playwright. I’ve never done anything like this, but I have an open mind and a desire to better my playwright skills. This is just the kind of opportunity that could make me grow as a playwright. For my local writer friends, this is an invaluable experience…come, learn, contribute feedback. I hope to see you there!

 

 

 

A Playwright’s Dream – Trafalgar 24 by Driftwood Theatre

THE FOLLOWING ARTICLE IS ONE I WROTE FOR THE WCDR WORDWEAVER NEWSLETTER, FOR THEIR MAY/JUNE 2009 ISSUE. It describes my very first foray into play-writing. It’s a little aged today, as I have now had 10 short plays produced…6 of them for Trafalgar24. I just wanted to give a little flavour into the experience from a playwright’s POV. It’s an amazing experience.
Following the article, I have posted some info on this year’s (2017) Trafalgar24 event. GET TICKETS! I promise you, it will be an experience you’ll never forget. One of the best nights out of the year, for sure.
Here’s the article:
A Playwright’s Dream – Trafalgar 24 by Driftwood Theatre
 
 
 
It’s Friday the 13th and we are in a dark basement corridor of a haunted 19th century castle. Out of the eerie silence come the first ear-shattering shrieks.
 
 
          “Margo! Margo!” A girl runs towards us. She is lost, panicked and terrified.
 
 
          So begins the unfolding of one of my lifelong dreams. The girl’s shouts are words I penned twenty-four hours earlier when I was locked into that basement and forced to write a 10-minute play.
 
 
          Forced is an exaggeration. The fulfillment of my dream actually began a month earlier when I wrote a hesitant e-mail to Ruth Walker. I had received a WCDR e-mail calling for playwrights for Driftwood Theatre’s 6th annual Trafalgar24 event and I ruminated over whether or not I should apply. Actually, I painfully agonized. I asked Ruth if I was completely crazy to even consider contacting Jeremy Smith, Driftwood’s artistic director.
 
 
          When I received Ruth’s encouragement (instead of the expected laughter), I sent Jeremy an e-mail. I began with the truth: I am not now, nor have I ever been a playwright. I followed my confession with much pleading and begging. You see, I had always imagined myself as a playwright. Imagination is a wasted gift when not forced into action.
 
 
          Much to my surprise—and horror—I received the following reply from Jeremy: I am delighted to inform you that if you still have an interest in staying up all night in a haunted castle between Thursday, March 12, and Friday, March 13, we would love to have you.
 
 
          Fast forward a month and here I am in the dark basement corridor, in the back row of a standing-room-only, sardine-packed audience. The young woman is lunging toward us, shrieking out her lost friend’s name. I’d like to say I wrote a dramatic play that would move my audience to tears—I went in there with visions of Blanche Dubois meets Phantom of the Opera—but that would be a lie.
 
 
          When we arrived at the castle twenty-four hours earlier, we playwrights were each given a sheet of paper. Mine included three things: headshots of my actors, the room I was assigned to and the play’s theme—Friday the 13th in a haunted castle. I took one look at my actresses and I knew what to write. I sat on the floor of the basement corridor and attempted to bring my newly acquired vision to life.
 
 
          Within an hour and a half, I victoriously announced: Done. Comedy. Now I can relax about deadline & edit.
 
 
          Throughout the hours of edits that followed, I was comforted by one fact: Lucy Brennan was upstairs. I interrupted her and commiserated with her a few times throughout the night. We even went on a Tim Hortons’ run with some of the other playwrights. She was my unwitting rock. She had no idea how much comfort I took in knowing she was a mere staircase away.
 
 
          Come morning, the playwrights were allowed to go home. As we drove to our beds, the actors and directors swarmed the castle. They only had a few hours to read and rehearse the ten plays we had left behind. It was all very The Elves and the Shoemakers if you ask me.
 
 
          Opening night! The Trafalgar24 play-creation festival is a fundraising event for Driftwood Theatre. What’s special about Driftwood is that they bring professional theatre to Ontario communities for pay-what-you-can admission. Trafalgar24 helps to make this possible. The event had a wonderful silent auction and a dessert table to rival every dessert table ever assembled on this or any other planet. It also had a dizzying array of talented actors and actresses who poured their hearts into roles that did not even exist less than 24 hours earlier.
 
 
          I was now an audience member. Each person in attendance viewed six of the 10 plays. I saw some incredibly heart-wrenching performances. I travelled from the library to the cathedral to the piano room and beyond—Lucy Brennan’s was my favourite! I was mesmerized by the beauty of the night—flawlessly orchestrated by all—including the stage director, WCDR’s own Nancy Melcher.
 
 
          I made my way to the basement. In the hushed moments prior to my character’s screams, I noticed the evening’s emcee standing to my left. Neil Crone, the man who has given me years of poignant laughter, was about to watch my words brought to life. I was suddenly more terrified than I had been when faced with the impossible demand of writing a play in eight hours. But I had forced my imagination into action. I was now a playwright.
 
 
          ‘Lucy‘ made her way onto the set and was startled, poked and prodded by the wickedly playful ‘Margo.’ Neil Crone laughed! I will beg Mr. Smith to allow me to be a part of the next Trafalgar24. If he doesn’t grant me the incredible honour of being playwright, I will be there in the audience watching another year of magic unfold. Only a fool would miss it!
 
END OF ARTICLE
Want to learn more about the 2017 Driftwood Theatre Trafalgar 24 Play Creation Festival? FOLLOW THIS LINK TO READ ABOUT THIS YEAR’S PLAYWRIGHTS, JUST ANNOUNCED!
 
 
HERE’S A LINK TO THE DRIFTWOOD THEATRE WEBSITE. Don’t miss Trafalgar 24 2017. You’ll love it!

I am Tartuffe – It’s 1664 and the Curtain Rises. Or, the Evolution of a Writer.

I am Green Eggs and Ham. I am Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. I am Little Women. I am The Great Gatsby. I am Tartuffe.

I don’t know if all writers are the same or not. But for me, there were always signposts along the way. I know precisely the signposts that gave me direction to the writer I have become.

  1. Green Eggs and Ham
  2. Charlie and the Chocolate Factory
  3. Little Women
  4. The Great Gatsby
  5. Tartuffe

These are the stepping stones I climbed to get here. These are the cornerstones that support the burden of my creative existence.

I vividly recall the electricity I felt when, at first, Green Eggs was read to me by my father. I wanted to be this. Whatever this was. I could not yet voice the thing, but I knew. With all my heart, I knew.

I remember first opening Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. His grandparents all in the bed. The family’s squalor and despair. Charlie’s compassion and passion for the world. I wanted to capture that. But I couldn’t yet put into words how I would go about doing that. I just knew that it had something to do with creation.

Meg, Jo, Beth, and Amy. I was granted a window into their lives. That window allowed for heartache, sorrow, joy, wonder. That I could feel all these emotions simply by reading words on a page. It was alchemy. I wanted to be that kind of a magician. I wanted to control the emotions of others with words.

East Egg. West Egg. Glamour. Lights. One little light, shining beacon-like across the water. Nick Carraway, the gentle observer of decadence. Removed, enticed, sickened. Gatsby became the template from which I have judged all novels since. None stand strong against it, though a great many have come close. You remember your first. That first moment when you know you have met with perfection. Even flawed perfection is made perfect by your own adulation of the thing. No matter the flaws that have been or will be pointed out to me in The Great Gatsby, it will always be that book. I will forever aspire to write THAT book.

With the exploration of words in full throttle, came the search for the perfect play. I had already read A Streetcar Named Desire. I was pretty sure I would not find another. It was my play. Then, somewhere between ninth and tenth grade, maybe. My memory fades. I stumbled upon a book called Tartuffe & Other Plays. Molière. First performed in the Palace of Versailles in 1664. Scorned by the Catholic Church. French. Paris (my lifelong love of the city drew me to anything in its periphery). I quickly discovered that pretty much ANY and ALL creative works frowned upon by the laughably reprehensible Catholic Church ended up being something I admired and liked. The swirling controversy surrounding Tartuffe made it REQUIRED reading for me. I read more about the play before reading the play than I ever read about anything prior to reading the thing for myself. The controversy surrounding Tartuffe when it first came out, culminated in the Archbishop of Paris announcing an edict warning anyone who watched it, read it, or performed in it total excommunication from the church. That’s serious shit. Then I read the play. And I laughed. And I laughed. And I laughed.

These are the books and creative works that formed me as a writer. My signposts, my evolution, my muses of creativity. I mention them today because of a little incident that happened on the way home from work yesterday. Or, perhaps not even an incident…but a happenstance. As I drove by the Scarborough Music Theatre (and I think Community Centre—I never really paid attention to what the building was) at Markham and Kingston Roads, I noticed a sign that has been there forever. On it was flashing the word Tartuffe. It rose above the din and caught my eye as it was meant to do. I got instantly and ridiculously excited. In all the years of re-reading the play, I had never actually seen it performed. It had never once come to life for me outside the page. Long story, short (too late)…I secured tickets for opening night. 353 years after its original opening night, I am attending a performance of TARTUFFE! Writers are such geeks, aren’t we?

From the theatre website:

tartuffe
CLICK ON THIS IMAGE TO BE REDIRECTED TO THE THEATRE’S PAGE FOR TICKETS AND INFO.

The description of the play, from the Scarborough Theatre Guild’s Website:

It is 1699 in Paris and Tartuffe, claiming to be a religious man, is living as a guest in the home of Orgon. His true goal is to acquire his host’s fortune and to seduce his wife. Most of Orgon’s family can see through Tartuffe’s pretense at holiness. Orgon, however, is completely fooled and offers his so-called “friend” all his property and marriage to his only daughter. It is up to Orgon’s faithful wife, Elmire, to expose the evil of their hypocritical house guest.
Recommended for ages 14 and up.

March 10*, 11, 16, 17, 18, 23 and 24 at 8:00pm

March 12, 19 and 25 at 2:00pm.

*A wine and cheese reception will follow the opening night performance on March 10th.

Regular tickets: $22

For detailed ticket information, please see the Box Office page

I wonder if all writers have their building blocks to how they got there…to writer. Do they remember each stepping stone? Do they honour those stones? Do they revisit them? Do they aspire to them?

I’m going to TARTUFFE! If you’re in the area, it’s not too late to get tickets (see above). I promise, you will laugh at this farce. Yesterday was a good day. I see a lot of names in lights, but seeing Tartuffe rise up out of the din of my advertising-thick commute was a godsend I’ll not soon forget. It’s silly, but to see a production of Tartuffe has been an almost life-long dream. As Julia Roberts (as VIVIAN) said to Richard Gere (as EDWARD) in Pretty Woman BEFORE their evening out, I will NOW say to the performers at SCARBOROUGH THEATRE GUILD.

“In case I forget to tell you later, I had a really good time tonight.”

The Train Wreck – A 10-Minute Play

Another year goes by, another 10-minute play is written. I really scraped by this year, I think. I thought I was writing a comedy…but I think I totally missed the mark. When it came time to submit it at the end of my 8 hours, I called it a DRAMEDY.

I had a chance to speak with the actors and the director of the play, and they seemed to genuinely love it. They did a FANTASTIC job in the performance I saw. Flawless. During the Trafalgar 24 evening, they performed the play 6 times…to a rotating audience that amounted to approximately 300 people. There was some laughter, but not exactly what I was going for. It’s a chance you take, when you write comedy. I really did lean on the drama side of dramedy this year. I just hope it was okay. I love the event…and I loved having a play in it…my 7th Trafalgar 24 play! And IN THE CHAPEL! The most beautiful room in the castle.

traf
Going to the Chapel… Trafalgar Castle Chapel in Whitby, Ontario. This is the scene of my latest play, The Train Wreck…

The prompt given to me prior to writing the play was:

The bride and groom have just left for their honeymoon. The groom was late to arrive at the wedding, and, the groom may or may not have struck the priest during the ceremony.

THE TRAIN WRECK (Originally written for the 2016 Trafalgar 24 Play Creation Festival in Whitby, Ontario)

TITLE: The Train Wreck

GENRE: Dramedy

SYNOPSIS: After a bad wedding experience, Emily and Jarod are ready to avoid them at all costs. Or are they?

CHARACTERS:

EMILY LANCASTER (Mary Krohnert) FORMAL WEAR

JAROD MAXWELL (James Dallas Smith) CASUAL WEAR

DESCRIPTION: Emily and Jarod are Maid of Honour and Best Man at a train-wreck of a wedding. Could this turn them against weddings forever?

SETTING

CHAPEL

 

[EMILY and JAROD walk up the aisle together, exhausted. Defeated.]

EMILY: Thank God that’s over!

JAROD [sits on the stairs at the front of the chapel, head in hands]: Oh my god. That was the biggest disaster I’ve ever seen. How did it crash and burn so quickly? [Looks up at Emily] What even happened? I just don’t get it.

EMILY: You tell me, Jarod. Isn’t the best man supposed to be the one making sure everything runs smoothly? Wasn’t it your responsibility to make sure the groom was in line?

JAROD: I will never get married.

EMILY: You’re preaching to the choir, believe me. I hate weddings. But it was still your responsibility.

JAROD: You have no idea how much I tried. I wanted everything to run smoothly. Honestly, I did. Have you even met Arthur?

EMILY: He just married Rachel. My best friend since we were practically fetuses. Or is that feti? What’s the plural for fetus? We were neighbours before we were born. Anyway, of course I’ve met him.

JAROD [stands up and paces in frustration]: Huh? The point is I had no control over what happened. Arthur was a one man wrecking crew. I just could not save it.

EMILY: Well, look on the bright side. They’re married. It’s over. Besides, I suppose all weddings are gonna have some glitches and bumps along the way. Right? Overall, I think it was rather grand.

JAROD: Glitches and bumps? Grand. Really? Which part of that fiasco on legs did you think was grand, if you don’t mind me asking?

EMILY: I’m not loving the sullen defeatist attitude you’re wearing. They both showed up. They walked down the aisle. They’re married.

JAROD: Rachel is your best friend. Since you were plural fetuses. Don’t you feel bad for her? Before he went insane this morning, Arthur was worried sick about screwing it up. He said she dreamt about her wedding her entire life. He had nightmares for weeks about pulling an Arthur on his wedding day. And if she’s not devastated by how it played out, I’ll eat my inappropriate wedding attire.

EMILY: That was one of the questions I had for you, actually.

JAROD: I know. I saw you ogling us throughout the ceremony. I felt the hostility. I’m sure everyone wondered.

EMILY: And?

JAROD: The tuxedos went over the balcony at the hotel this morning. It was an accident. Don’t ask.

EMILY: Why didn’t you just go downstairs and get them? How difficult would that have been?

JAROD: It would have involved swimming.

EMILY: Really? They fell into the pool?

JAROD: The deep end. I hate weddings.

EMILY: Well, at least you’re wearing pants. Did you see the look on Rachel’s face when Arthur walked in wearing his Bermuda shorts?

JAROD: They were a compromise. It was either Bermuda shorts or actual swim trunks. The loud theme of the Bermuda shorts had to be overlooked. They covered way more leg than the trunks.

EMILY: When you’re getting married and you lose the tuxedo at the eleventh hour, a compromise is dress pants, chinos, slacks. Christ, jeans would have been better. If there’s going to be bare legs at a wedding, they should at least belong to the bride.

JAROD: In his defense, he was packed for Bermuda. It is where they’re going today.

EMILY: I’m sure she’s pleased with him right now. She’s probably killing him in the back of the limo as we speak. I can’t say I’d blame her.

JAROD: Remember that time when you said Arthur and Rachel’s wedding was grand? Why, it seems like it was just five minutes ago.

EMILY: Well, yeah. When you start nitpicking at the flaws and put them under the microscope, I can see where it might be construed as a fiasco. I mean, I’ve been to saner weddings in the past.

JAROD: Saner? [JAROD walks to the podium, clears his throat. Theatrical] Ladies and gentlemen, we are gathered here today to celebrate the holy matrimony of Art and Rachel. [makes the motions of punching himself in the side of the head and flailing from the impact] [mimics Arthur’s deep hostile voice] It’s Arthur, asshole! [returns to his own voice] I rest my case.

EMILY: [trying not to laugh] Well, yeah. But did he really hit Father Frank? I mean, you seem to be over-interpreting that situation.

JAROD: Really, Emily? Am I? How does one over interpret a punch to the side of the head?

EMILY: There’s really no need for embellishments or exaggerations. That was hardly a punch.

JAROD: Why are you sticking up for my best friend and throwing your best friend under the bus?

EMILY: I’m not, really. It’s just, Rachel hides behind a constant resting bitch face. I can’t tell when she’s upset, because she always looks upset. Maybe Bermuda shorts and a sucker-punch aren’t really enough to put a damper on such a huge moment in her life. I mean, has she ever looked happy to you?

JAROD: She’s your friend, not mine. I hardly know her. Something tells me these things would be devastating to any girl who always dreamed of the perfect wedding.

EMILY: Maybe she should be happy with what she got. She could do worse than Art.

JAROD: Careful. Don’t call him Art to his face. You saw what happened to the last guy who did that.

EMILY: Are you even going to tell me why you were so late?

JAROD: We were earlier than we thought we’d be.

EMILY: But you were still over an hour late. Father Frank was ready to call it off. Rachel’s grossly overweight Aunt Helen was in her pew fanning herself, hyperventilating and mumbling, “Land sakes!” over and over again like she was about to meet Jesus.

JAROD: After we decided there’d be no way to dry the tuxes on time, I had a hard time getting Arthur out of the pool.

EMILY: So you did try to rescue the tuxes?

JAROD: Well, it was more like Arthur saw an opportunity to go for a swim. You know, I think he might have been still drunk from last night’s bachelor party.

EMILY: That’s what Rachel kept saying. “What if he’s drunk? What if he’s dead? What if he’s changed his mind?” It was fun to be here with her while you were out there swimming.

JAROD: I told you, I tried. And I was never in the pool. You seem to be waffling. Either the wedding was grand or it wasn’t.

EMILY: I’m just asking the questions I know Rachel would want me to ask.

JAROD: Right. Since you were friends ever since you were feti and stuff.

EMILY: Don’t make fun of me. I don’t have to listen to this. [turns and heads down the aisle] I’m not the one responsible for wrecking Rachel’s wedding. That’s your distinct honor.

JAROD: Wait. No. Don’t go. I’m sorry. I’m just frustrated.

EMILY: [stops and turns back to face JAROD] It was kind of funny when Arthur tripped up the aisle. [walks back toward the front and fakes a trip into one of the pews] I thought his mom was going to have a heart attack over that one.

JAROD: His mom is a heart attack. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. I’m surprised she didn’t show up in a grass skirt or a tutu. Your friend doesn’t know what she’s getting herself into. Arthur’s family is messed up.

EMILY: Anna Karenina?

JAROD: Huh? Are we naming Russian Lit novels? I see your Anna and raise you with a War and Peace.

EMILY: No. The line. Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way. The thing that’s broken in the Middleton family causes their son to wear Bermuda shorts to his own wedding. Rachel may have shown up in the right outfit, but her family is just as messed up.

JAROD: How so? I mean, Arthur punched a priest today.

EMILY: Last night, Rachel called off the wedding. Just to me, of course, but still. She said she didn’t deserve him. She thought he was marrying beneath himself. The drunk thug swimming in the hotel pool with his tuxedo was too good for her.

JAROD: Ah. I get it. Unhappy families.

EMILY: We all have our crosses to bear. Some of us are so mad at the world that we punch priests for saying our name the wrong way, and some of us just take it all out on ourselves.

JAROD: You’re bringing down the mood, Em. We still have a reception to get through.

EMILY: That’s another thing. Who doesn’t go to their own reception? They’re probably at the airport by now. If she hasn’t killed him and dumped the Bermuda shorted body, that is.

JAROD: Arthur’s dad insisted. That’s how the Middletons have always done it. From the chapel to the plane. La tee da.

EMILY: [looks at JAROD and gets an idea. Smiles] Come here. [they get in line with one another] While I have you here, I just want to try something out. [she walks him up the aisle arm in arm. She begins to hum Here Comes the Bride. He joins in while they stand at the front of the church]

JAROD: Um. Weird. That felt kinda good. It felt right, or something.

EMILY: Yeah. Um. No. Let’s not get carried away. We hate weddings, remember? I just wanted to know what it felt like. You were the closest available arm. That’s all. Don’t read anything into it.

JAROD: Well, yeah. I just mean…yeah. Whatever.

EMILY: When I get married, everything will run smoothly. My wedding will be absolute perfection.

JAROD: Mine too. Like clockwork.

EMILY: You probably should find someone other than Arthur to be your best man.

[they turn to walk back down the aisle to leave the church.]

JAROD: We really should be getting to the reception. With no bride or groom, won’t that make us the guests of honour or something?

EMILY: Hmph. I guess so.

[they start to leave the church, at first separately. They fall in together and lock arms, humming the wedding march again.]

JAROD: I’m surprised by how good this feels.

EMILY: Ack. Weddings are so damn romantic, aren’t they?

[they exit arm in arm at the back of the church]

 

END PLAY

 

As is always the case, feel free to use this or any other 10-minute play posted to this site. My only request is that you email me at kevintcraig @ hotmail.com and ask permission (let me know).

 

 

Panic is Behind Me – It’s Out of My Hands!

There is nothing I can do now. I have performed my duties as Elf Playwright. Whatever will be, will be. Que sera, sera.

traf
Just one of the many rooms in Trafalgar Castle in Whitby, Ontario. Tour the castle while you watch plays take place inside 6 of its many rooms!

Right at this very moment there are 12 actors and 6 directors inside Trafalgar Castle School in Whitby, Ontario. Along with Driftwood Theatre founder and Artistic Director Jeremy Smith. They are reading 6 freshly inked plays. They might be laughing, they might be crying, they might be pulling out their hair, they might be looking for a corner to hide in. I have no concept of what they do for the 8 hours on the day of the Trafalgar 24 event. I write the play and I walk away. It’s their turn in the castle. All I know is that when I go back tonight those 12 actors and 6 directors will have hammered the 6 plays off the page and onto the stage. I still imagine their roles in all of this to be so much more difficult than mine. The real magic happens when the actors take up the words and when the directors take up the action. That’s why it’s so magically incredible to see my own play performed in front of an audience the day after I write it. The actors bring life to the characters and the directors bring life to the characters, the setting, the space. After my very first year at Trafalgar 24, I never again looked at actors and directors the same way. I used to think they had it easy. Now I know they get a rudimentary piece of archaeological hieroglyphs and they see whatever it is they need to see in it and they breathe life into it. They are magicians.

TRAFALGAR 24 TICKETS CAN BE HAD BY CLICKING ON THIS!

Tonight is when the audience converges on the castle. Tonight is when each of the 6 plays is performed 6 times. Tonight is when the wine and cheese and meats and crackers and desserts are spread out before you. Tonight is when the silent auction of awesome things takes place. Tonight is when Driftwood Theatre gets celebrated by the Durham Region arts community. If you live anywhere near Whitby, Ontario…you should click the link above and secure your tickets. Not only do you get your fill of wine and cheese and dessert, but you get to see 6 fresh plays while touring a beautiful 19th century castle. There’s nothing like it anywhere else.

Doors open at 6:30pm and the performances begin at 7:30pm.

FROM THE DRIFTWOOD THEATRE SITE:

Twenty-four artists receive a scant 24-hours to write, rehearse and perform six site-specific plays in Whitby’s beautiful 19th century castle. TRAFALGAR 24 is a theatrical event unlike any other, where the audience is right on top of the action as each of the 10-minute scripts play out around them in locations throughout the castle. At TRAFALGAR 24 audience members play a vital role of their own, helping to select one winning play to receive a commission for further development from Driftwood Theatre.

March 11, 2016 | 6:30pm Silent Auction Starts | 7:30pm Performances Begin | Trafalgar Castle, 401 Reynolds Street, Whitby

NEW for 2016 Trafalgar 24 Royalty VIP Ticket | $100 | Explore TRAFALGAR 24 like never before with a special Trafalgar Royalty VIP ticket. In addition to general admission, your TRAFALGAR 24 experience is enhanced by private pre-show reception with TRAFALGAR 24 playwrights, exclusive Auction Concierge service, and membership to a special VIP audience group guided by a famous Driftwood Theatre artist.

General Admission Ticket | $60

Twitter: #trafalgar24

Hope to see you there!