/p> The Plays of Max Sparber

FAST, CHEAP & OUT OF CONTROL

A lunatic series of short plays designed to be produced on microbudgets; all of these plays are currently being offered without licensing fee -- go ahead and just do them!

Minstrel Show by Max Sparber

MINSTREL SHOW, OR THE LYNCHING OF WILLIAM BROWN

Two itinerant African-American blackface performers retell the harrowing tale of the murder of an African-American man in Omaha, Nebraska in 1919.


"Mr. Sparber has taken a shameful, little-noted event in American history and fashioned a raw, gripping work."-- The New York Times

Minstrel Show by Max Sparber

MAD ABOUT THE BOY!

A lip-synced musical created from a series of gay themed novelty records from the Sixties, telling a story of love before Stonewall.


"A hilarious and biting sendup of the time before the gay rights movement." -- Omaha World-Herald

Mad About the Boy

CHELSEA (FROM A TO B AND BACK AGAIN)

Two years in the life of an artist inspired by Andy Warhol, telling of his art, his self-invention, and the making of a disastrous movie.

Chelsea by Max Sparber

THE BLOG

Bunny Sparber's musings on theater, playwrighting, and misbehavior.

Bunny Sparber

NINE LESSONS IN THE INVENTION OF THE SELF

Posted by Max Sparber On 4:35 PM
SYNOPSIS: A one-man show in which Oscar Wilde, on his speaking tour of America, offers an impromptu -- and unwittingly revealing -- speech on how one might become a celebrity.

HISTORY: Nine Lessons in the Invention of the Self was commissioned by Omaha's Joslyn Castle as part of a festival of Oscar Wilde. It debuted in June of 2012, starring Kirk Koczanowski and under the title Oscar Wilde: Between Barbarism and Decadence.

DOWNLOAD a copy -- COMING SOON.

To read the script, you will need a copy of Adobe's free Acrobat Reader program. Download it here.

ADDITIONAL MEDIA: Here is a trailer for the Omaha production, featuring Kirk Koczanowski as Oscar Wilde in Joslyn Castle.

HOW TO MAKE YOUR SCRIPT IMPOSSIBLE TO UNDERSTAND

Posted by Max Sparber On 1:10 PM
I’ll be reading 20 or so plays in the next week, and have already read a dozen. It’s a dubiously pleasurable undertaking. These are submissions to a theater conference I participate in, and I am one of the first readers to winnow through everything that comes over the transom. Some of it is dazzling. Some of it is workmanlike. And, any of you who know Sturgeon’s Law can guess, 90 percent of it is crud.

I don’t mind it, really, although I spend a lot of time moaning when I’m actually doing the reading. There’s something encouraging about the fact that so many new writers try their hands at playwrighting, and that so many old writers keep trying, despite failing so definitively and so repeatedly. I don’t know what they expect to get out of playwrighting. There’s no money in it. Your audiences will be small. At least writing for television provides a steady paycheck and you might get to meet Tori Spelling. Who do you meet as a playwright? Local actors? You can do that just by going to a nearby bar.

But it’s a grand form, and I’m glad that people still try it, even if I wonder if they might be delusional. Good for them. If it wasn’t for the delusional, there would be no theater at all. And I want them to succeed. Every single one of them. I don’t care what they write -- I just want them to succeed in telling the story they want to tell, in the way they want to tell it. And there’s something exciting about seeing unpracticed writers trying to script a play. Plays can be so challenging. Just getting somebody in and out of a room is a hurdle, and one that’s easy to fumble on. Writing a scene in which five people must take turns talking, each having their own agendas, each forwarding a plot in their own way? It’s like that non-Euclidean geometry that H.P Lovecraft used to write about, which would drive people made just by seeing its broken lines.

As a result, a lot of the plays I read end up being incomprehensible. This is not such a bad thing -- incomprehensibility is a valid theatrical choice. However, with most of these plays, I don’t think the authors meant for them to be incomprehensible. It’s really a problem of translation, in that they know what they want us to know, but they don’t have the language to tell it. Deciding what the audience needs to know and when they need to know it is one of the great challenges of playwrighting. Tell too much too soon, you’ve frontloaded a script with exposition, and you’ve probably embarrassed yourself by having characters tell each other things they already know. Deny the information for too long and it starts feeling like a cheat. I can’t tell you the number of plays I’ve read where everybody in the play knows something, but they won’t let the audience in on it, and so they say things like “This reminds me of when daddy … well, you know.” “Oh yes, on that awful day when he … well, you know.”

I say to heck with it. Incomprehensibility is the bolder choice. Just make sure you’ve decided to be incomprehensible, instead of doing so by accident. The audience might throw chairs or set fire to the theater, but so what? There’s a noble tradition of that in theater, and it’ll probably get you some press and eventually an Off-Broadway production. So here are my tips on being incomprehensible. On the other hand, if you want your play to be understood, you might consider doing the opposite of this:

1. Jump around in time. You’d be surprised how many scripts include in their stage directions something like “5 years later.” I love this, because the audience can’t read the stage directions, and often there is nothing else in the script to indicate any time has passed. Don’t even bother to put it in the stage directions. Just have the play boldly leap around in time and don’t bother to tell anyone. This is even better when you make extensive use of flashbacks, or, most challenging yet, run an entire play in reverse chronological order.

2. Write an entire play as a way of getting back at your ex-lover. This is generally accomplished by having the main character represent you and you antagonist represent your ex-husband, or a girlfriend who jilted you, or something similar. This would muck up a more traditional play, because usually you’d want the two characters to have their own competing agendas. But there is a beautiful simplicity to this, in that both characters have the same goal: The protagonist needs to yell at the antagonist, and the antagonist needs to be yelled at. If you are an author of exceptional skill, try to write the whole thing without telling us anything about either character except what their relationship is to each other, and make your complaints as general as possible, such as “You never respected me,” or “You were kind of a bad man.” Don’t muddle this up with specifics -- that’s just pandering to the audience. Heck, just call the man “man” and the woman “woman.” Even better still, couple this with my next suggestion:

3. Set the play in no specific place. No, I’m not talking about establishing some sort of representational, limnal space, like the universes inhabited by Beckett’s characters. I’m talking about setting the whole play in a white room. Or a blackened stage where the characters are occasionally illuminated by spotlights. If you really must set it someplace, make it as general as possible: a hospital room, a living room, a hotel room. Remember, if you’re trying to confuse your audience, lack of specificity is your friend.

4. Have everybody talk exactly the same way. This especially useful if that style of speaking is unnatural and mannered. You’re going to be temped to distinguish the characters from each other by one quirk. One smokes, for example, and the other is bitchy, and one is really pompous. If you must do this, drop it midway through the play in favor of having the characters resemble each other. This is where not naming a character becomes important. Even if she stops chewing gum, I might remember that a character is named Cindy. But if you’ve just called her Girl 3, you’ve got me. And, by that, I mean you’ve lost me.

5. Have too much plot. The real trick to this is to have most of the action take place offstage, and to make it very, very complicated, and then have the characters attempt to explain it to each other. If you really want to make this work, make sure that at least one of the offstage actions makes no sense, if you really think about it. But make sure you’ve embedded it into the text of the play as being absolutely essential. So you’re going to have to explain why it actually makes sense. And then you’ll think about it some more, and realize your explanation raises as many questions as it answers. So provide new answers. Here’s where you can get caught in an endless loop of trying to justify your script. Trust me -- a lot of this sort of stuff is far more perplexing than a little of it. Dazzle your audience with too many explanations and sooner or later they’ll give up, and then watch as your Fringe page starts filling up with reviews. Sure, they won’t be good, but while one bad review might drive audiences away, 40 will cause your show to sell out.

Enjoy your runaway hit!

Originally published on Minnesota Playlist, December 2, 2010

POP-UP THEATER

Posted by Max Sparber On 12:45 PM
There’s been a lot of talk lately about something called “pop-up theater,” or, since most of the talk seems to be taking place in the United Kingdom, “theatre.” The idea is pretty simple, and certainly not especially new: Instead of producing a play in an established theater venue, you instead produce it somewhere unexpected.

Often the chosen locations comment on the play. The Young Vic, for instance, did a play called “The Container” that dealt with refugees entering England on the back of a truck. The play was produced in an actual shipping container. But pop up theater doesn’t have to be so literal: Art darling Banksy debuted his documentary “Exit Through the Gift Shop” in a 150-seat theater, that was built in an unused tunnel under Waterloo Station, billed as London’s “darkest and dirtiest” theater.

One suspects this is because London is so darned expensive. Rather than deal with the cost of maintaining a year-round theater space, or even renting a theater space for a few months, performers are just grabbing whatever corner of London they can for the run of a show, setting up a makeshift lighting kit, and hightailing it out of there when things are done. And this is why I’d like to discuss the fad, although I should take a moment to point out its antecedents.

It's not especially new
This is similar, of course, to Off-Off-Broadway. In part for financial reasons, Off-Off-Broadway rejected New York’s established theater spaces in favor of churches, cafes, and other nontraditional venues. But Off-Off-Broadway quickly morphed into small black box spaces -- they developed their own sort of permanence, while pop-up theaters are intended to be short-lived. And pop-up is similar to site-specific work, except that site-specific work is typically, well, specific to the site being used. The work is built around the space, and may not make sense elsewhere.

Nonetheless, this is a trend that has a lot of history. Heck, back in 2001 or thereabouts, Skewed Visions produced a show at the Fringe called “The Car” that took place in an actual car, driven around the city. Our own Alan Berks helped create a series of short plays performed in area bars, and his last Fringe entry was produced in an art gallery. Off-Leash Area produced their play “A Gift from Planet BX63” at a series of garages last summer (I wrote the dialogue for that show), and Michael Sommers has actually built a traveling theater on the back of a bike just for the purpose of transporting shows to neighborhood venues. The Walker regularly brings performances that take place outside their theater. I think the name “pop up theater” appeared, not because it’s a new trend, but because there is so much of it all of a sudden.

Why it's worth talking about
But I think it’s especially worth considering now, especially in American theater. We suffer from a dearth of new productions nowadays, and the book “Outrageous Fortune” by Todd London and Ben Pesner identified a number of reasons for this, and one of them was the institutionalization of non-profit theater. A large number of small American theater companies maintain their own theater spaces, and, as a result, a large percentage of their budget goes into paying rent. Even without the space, there’s a great need to spend money to support the institution year-round, including paying salaries. And just as you cannot serve both God and Mammon, it’s quite difficult to make maintaining an institution a priority and produce financially risky new work. There’s a large disincentive, in fact, to experimenting. This doesn’t mean it’s impossible, of course -- new work does get produced, and a lot of it is quite risky. But the amount of this work that debuts every year is passingly small.

Pop-up theater offers an alternative financial model. If you do a play project-by-project, rather than maintaining a company year-round, and you see almost anyplace as a potential venue, you pare back on production costs dramatically. Even renting a theater space can be quite expensive -- you may not need to maintain it 12-months a year, but somebody has to, and they’re going to charge enough to cover that, as well as make a profit. But there are an endless number of cheaper rental spaces, and free spaces, in any city. Performer Ann Magnuson, in what may be one of the earliest examples of what we now think of as pop-up theater, took over the elevator in the Whitney and sang along with the elevator’s Muzak soundtrack for five continuous hours. I have my own example, which I’ll mention briefly: I have a play titled “Sleaze Book Club,” which is just that -- a group of actors get together and provide book reports for mid-20th century pornographic literature they have read. The last time I produced this, we simply requested a room at the Central Library downtown, telling them we were an actual book club. Which, in a way, we were. Total cost of the venue: $0.

Pop-up theater for playwrights -- and others
It’s especially useful for playwrights to think about writing for pop-up theater. We tend to write plays with the idea that they will be mounted on a traditional stage, but odds are against us on this -- most mid-level playwrights will only get half of what they write produced, and, even then, it will only enjoy one brief production. The solution to this, as playwright Mac Wellman likes to tell people, is to produce your own plays. But this is often economically unfeasible, as playwrights may not have the capital to rent spaces and lighting kits and seats and whatnot. Individual playwrights don’t have access to grants in the way institutions do, and they don’t tend to have their own non-profits, so they can’t solicit money the way institutions do.

But pop-up theater can bring the cost of a production down to a manageable level. And this is worth considering for anybody involved in making theater -- not just playwrights. Independent producers can potential do more or riskier work, and even performers can take the reigns in producing work that they are interested in, rather than waiting for a theater to put on a play that they are appropriate for.

Really, it’s just a matter of finding a location that is willing to serve as your venue -- and you’d be surprised how many places are available for free. Bars, for instance, are often willing to set aside a night for a performance, as it is to their benefit to get a certain number of people into their space to buy drinks. If you can find a nonprofit to act as an umbrella organization for your production, people are often willing to donate unused office spaces, or storefronts, or other commercial property, for the length of the run in order to be able to write off what they would have made in rental. Simple lights kits can easily -- and cheaply -- be rented from audio/visual businesses, often for under $200 per week, and under $100 for a weekend. Folding chairs can likewise be rented. And there you have it -- a theater space, for as long as the play lasts.

And there’s an even cheaper option, although it’s riskier: just take over a space, perform a play, and get the hell out. It’s what the underground rave scene used to do in Los Angeles, and it’s a very appealing option for a certain type of theater. There’s an especially odd group called the Surveillance Camera Players who would produce short scenes directly into security cameras. More famously, Improv Everywhere deliberately chooses unlikely and surprising locations for their performances, and don’t even let their audiences know that they are about to see a show. It will just start, in the middle of a Starbucks or subway station, and, a few minutes later, be done.

It’s been quite a long time since Shakespeare told us that all the world’s a stage. This is an especially good time to take him too literally.

Originally published on Minnesota Playlist, January 31, 2010.
FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE: MAX "BUNNY" SPARBER'S PLAY “SLEAZE BOOK CLUB” AT CENTRAL LIBRARY, SEPTEMBER 3, 4:30 p.m.

MINNEAPOLIS -- Max “Bunny” Sparber, a Minneapolis playwright and former City Pages theater critic, whose the New York Times called “raw” and “gripping,” and who the New Yorker praised for his “intelligence and sheer talent,” brings his self-assembling play "Sleaze Book Club" to Minneapolis's Central Library.

“Sleaze Book Club,” consists of performers -- actors and non-actors alike -- providing self-written book reports on tawdry paperback pornographic novels found at adult bookstores, along with a dramatic reading from each. At the end of the play, audience members are assigned books of their own to read. And that’s it. That’s the entire play.

The play is the first of what is intended to be a series of self-produced projects by Sparber which he has dubbed “self-assembling theater.” Instead of writing scripts, he writes directions for the assemblage of a play, of sorts, constructed by the actors themselves out of found material and based around the self-organizing rituals of everyday people, including drag shows and group sex sessions. Each of these plays examine when people abandon privacy, and each are deigned to be performed without rehearsal, so that the resulting play unfolds itself in front of the performers at the same moment as the audience. No performance is ever to be repeated, no two performances will ever be the same, and the play violates the usual approach to theater, in which the process of creating a play is masked and the moments when the cast discovers the play are lost in the rehearsal process.

These self-assembling plays are part of a larger experiment by Sparber and his occasional writing partner, Coco Mault, called Fast, Cheap & Out of Control. These are pays designed to be performed on a microbudget, in found or squatted locations, and Sparber and Mault provide the scripts freely to anybody who wishes to perform them,
without expectation of licensing fees or royalties; they don’t even expect to be informed when a play is to be performed, but instead ask for some sort of documentation that the play has been performed. More about these plays can be found at
http://www.maxsparberplays.com/2010/06/fast-cheap-and-out-of-control.html

Information about “Sleaze Book Club,” as well as a larger downloadable digital version of the image for the play, can be found at http://www.maxsparberplays.com/2010/07/sleaze-book-club.html

The premiere production of the play occurred August 6 as part of Storefront in a Box; video from the premiere can be seen at http://www.maxsparberplays.com/2010/08/sleze-book-club-performance-august-6.html

WHAT: “Sleaze Book Club,” a play by Max “Bunny” Sparber
WHEN: Friday, September 3, 4:30 p.m.
WHERE: Central Library Mark E. Johnson Conference Room N-202, 300
Nicollet Mall Minneapolis, MN 55401
HOW MUCH: Free

Playwright Max “Bunny” Sparber can be reached for interview at maxsparber@gmail.com or 612.217.1234