The thing I like most about writing plays is that a play is not just my story. Each play is a conversation, which I start when I write the script, but after that it gains the thoughts and opinions and talents of everyone else who touches it: directors, actors, designers, audience members, and more. Collaboration is what makes theatre special, and it’s a large part of why I keep writing. To have a conversation in a different language, though, and from half a world away, is a unique and special experience that I don’t think I ever would have expected to be so fun and fruitful. As a writer, I spend a lot of time in an office by myself, typing away, and so it’s hard to believe that some folks in South Korea would ever see those words, connect with them, and go to the trouble not just to translate them to a different language, but then to translate them to action, as well! It’s the kind of experience that I fear may be once-in-a-lifetime, which is doubly heartbreaking considering that the birth of my son kept me from being able to come out and view the festival in person. Such a setback, though, just makes me all the more certain that I will do everything I can to make sure that it happens man times more, as much as possible, and that I’ll be there to see it (perhaps with the whole family!). Seeing the results of this festival, even just on a video screen, has made me think differently about the way that my work fits into the whole world, and the kinds of conversations that I’m able to have with it (as well as who I can have them with!).
I am especially glad that my chance to collaborate with all these artists came with a collection of short plays, which are some of my favorite things to write. A two-hour long play is like a long conversation over dinner; you are able to go very deep, but all the food has to be within a consistent palette, and you can never go too far astray. But with a short play, you can try the wackiest and craziest recipes that you want, and involve all the weird stuff you can think of. It’s a perfect opportunity to take a spark of creativity, capture it in a recipe, and give it to another collaborator to cook up. This festival took my recipes and did things I couldn’t have imagined with them. I never expected the joy of seeing some bobbing balloons bring a play about dinosaurs to life, or see real fireworks at the end of a play about two hobos trying to go to space. The use of environment, and space, and sheer raw theatricality were a delight to view and speak to the creators about, and I watched all the videos with a huge smile on my face, next to my wife and with my young son on my lap. Even in a different language, the heart of each piece shone through, and I saw new and stunning ideas coming through, which taught me about plays that I’d somehow thought I knew everything about already. It was fun, and surprising, and deeply deeply touching, and it pains me that I was not able to be there to see it all in person, but will cherish the memories that it gave to me.
Two hobos, Chester, a hobo, tries to send his friend Otis, another hobo, into the outer space. Otis, not willing to leave the Earth, fiercely resists to break free from the ‘spaceship’ yet in vain. A Sci-Fi Farce by Walt McGough.
The socks who became solo shares their story. Are we supposed to be in pairs or solos? We gently put on the stories of socks. Just like we wonder if theatre is supposed to be done in solo, or in pairs.
This performance is an adaptation of a play by Walt McGough, Two Socks Discuss Loss with the permission of the author.
10cm-large AI robotic cleaner sweeps up the house, continuously evolving through self-directed learning. The mighty robot, swallowing everything placed on the ground, threatens to clean up Kyle and Jennifer, the real source of garbage in the house. The couple, isolated on the sofa in trying to escape from the robot, realizes they are finally able to have a proper conversation at this moment where no civilization remains for them.