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Presenting... the cast of "Titus Andronicus"!
So far this blog has spent an awful lot of time talking about She Kills Monsters, since it was the next show we had opening and all... but now that it's taken the stage, our next show is on deck - Josh Bailey's post-apocalyptic take on William Shakespeare's legendary Titus Andronicus!
Who'll be treading the boards at the Browncoat to bring Titus to life? Well here is the official cast!
Titus Andronicus - J.R. Rodriguez Tamora - LaRaisha Burnette Marcus Andronicus - Ron Hasson Saturninus - Nick Reed Bassianus - Andrew Liguori Lavinia - Ariana Tysinger Aaron - Darius Bego Demetria - Olivia Arokiasamy Chira - Lily Nicole Alarba/Nurse/Messenger - Shawn Sproatt Lucius Andronicus - Hal Cosec Quintus - Paul Homick
Titus Andronicus opens on October 8th, and we'll be keeping you updated with behind the scenes news until then!
Break legs!
-Nick
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The first review for She Kills Monsters is in, and according to encore magazine's Gwenyfar Rohler, you need to see this show immediately! Check out the review, and get your tickets for next weekend... we return to the stage Thursday night with Free Comic Book night sponsored by Nerdvana Comix!
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Come Out & Play
“That’s not even a real theater.”
It’s a refrain I’ve heard many times over the course of my 6 years directing shows at the Browncoat. In the beginning, when I’d hear it, I’d get incredibly defensive. These days… well, I still get defensive, though I like to think I’ve toned it down a little.
What is a real theater? You look up the word on Dictionary.com, and it says a theater is “a building, part of a building, or outdoor area for housing dramatic presentations, stage entertainments, or motion-picture shows.” Ok. Sounds pretty real to me. We have a building, a stage. We have seats. We have a movie screen. We do dramatic presentations, stage entertainments, and motion picture shows. But the sense is still that we’re not a real theater.
Why is that, I wonder? I mean, I know the Browncoat has more than a few “quirks” that can make doing a show there difficult. The roof leaks, no matter how many times the landlord has said it’ll be fixed. The air conditioner and heater work when they choose to… which isn’t often, and is usually in the wrong season. The upstairs is usually a wreck as we try to cram the materials to run a theater into a space that wasn’t designed as one. But any space has its challenges. Do they make it less of a theater?
Maybe it’s because the place doubles as a geek karaoke bar. We’ve got posters of sci-fi legends on the wall, you have to walk into a T.A.R.D.I.S. to get to the bathrooms, what we have that passes for wing space is behind a door that says “DON’T OPEN, DEAD INSIDE.” Comic books line the bar and wallpaper the bathroom walls. And there’s a parade of singers every night who take our stage that would make Simon Cowell weep with shame. So the Browncoat definitely has its own personality. Does that make it less of a theater?
Or is it something a little more personal, a little more sinister? Is it just simply that people don’t like the guy that owns the place? Now I know I take some heat for being Richard Davis’ cheerleader, but he’ll be the first to admit… I’m not really his cheerleader. I am after him all the time about the way he does certain things. If I’m a cheerleader at all, it’s for what he’s made, and the opportunities he’s created. Whatever he’s done that people don’t agree with doesn’t change the fact that with Guerilla Theatre and later the Browncoat, he’s done something pretty special. He’s created a way for people to have a chance.
A chance to do what, you ask? A chance to do theater. Real theater. A chance to find a story you’re passionate to tell, and the ability to tell it your way. A chance to nab that leading role when anywhere else you’d be in the chorus. A chance to create a production from the ground up. A chance to stretch yourself. A chance to try new ideas or experiments where the art is more important than the commerce. A chance to stumble, a chance to learn, a chance to grow. It’s a chance I’ve always appreciated. A chance that’s given me an opportunity to do things I never thought possible. That is what he’s done, not just for me, but for so many others. That is worth cheering for. That is why, despite how much I’ve appreciated the chance to work for other theater companies recently, I still go back to the Browncoat.
To paraphrase Tony Soprano, you don’t gotta love Richard, but you gotta respect him. More importantly, you’ve gotta respect the number of indelible, moving, funny, downright amazing moments that have happened on that little stage. The harrowing drama of A Piece of My Heart. The hilarity and inventiveness of Sides. The touching love story of Beautiful Thing. The ingenuity and novelty of Murder Boat. The experimental edge of Severe. The stirring original and challenging takes on Romeo & Juliet and Hamlet. The barely contained comedic chaos of the Pineapple-Shaped Lamps and Thursday Night Live. The Shakespearean familial strife of William and Judith. The “how awesome is this” creepiness of Gallery. The soaring musical numbers of Cannibal and Little Shop of Horrors. Some incredible talent has taken the stage over the years, and continues to do so, both in front of audiences and behind the scenes, and say what you want about the place or about the man, but those artists deserve your respect and your support. That’s the idea that Richard had. That’s the idea that, for better or worse, he’s fought to preserve.
It’s also the idea that he has to step away from. The idea that he’s asked me to care for now.
Many of you reading this have probably already heard, but the last several months have had me transitioning into the role of Artistic Director of the Browncoat Theatre Company. Richard is stepping back, focusing more on his wife Amber’s health. For the past couple of years, she’s been fighting against a very rare kidney disease, and it’s taken its toll on both of them. Meanwhile, he’s asked me to take on more and more of running the theater, which started with the announcement of our “AMAZING WONDER STORIES” season and will continue on into preparation for our 2016 season as well. But my biggest job, the one that I’m most determined to do, is to get the word out about the Browncoat, about the opportunities it has, about the terrific shows you can see there and nowhere else, and to make it a place where everyone in town enjoys working and creating art.
Why am I saying all of this to you? Because I’m asking you for a favor. I’m asking you to give the Browncoat another chance. As an actor, or a director, or a writer, or a technician, or an audience member. Give us a chance to show you what we can be. And in return, on this blog, I’m going to give you an honest, no-holds-barred look at what goes on there, and will treat it as something of an ongoing version of a Reddit Ask Me Anything. Post your questions, and I’ll answer them to the best of my ability, all of them. Questions, concerns, raves, criticisms… all is welcome.
When Richard asked me to design an official logo for the Browncoat a few years ago, I decided to mimic the logo of Firefly, the TV show from which the Browncoat takes its name. The show was set in a future where American and Chinese culture had essentially melded into one, and the original logo had some Chinese hanzi characters. I decided to research and see if I could find a couple of characters that would fit the theater well. The two I found, and ultimately used, were hanzi for the words “place” and “play.” Literally translated, it means “a place for playing.”
We aren’t a normal theater. Hell, maybe we aren’t a “real” theater by some arbitrary definition. But we are a damned fun place to play. I invite you to come play with us.
Break a leg,
Nick
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