Empty display cases at the Longacre Theatre (Photo by Howard Sherman)

The fact that Nerds, a musical about Bill Gates and Steve Jobs which has been in development for a decade, cancelled its Broadway run less than a month before its first preview, shouldn’t be entirely shocking. After all, the marquee of the Longacre Theatre, where it was to begin performances, still carried the logo for Allegiance, the musical that closed there in February. At 5 pm on March 8, the day of the announced cancellation, the lighted display cases on the front of the building were empty and dark.

By the same token, the box office lobby was crammed full of equipment boxes for the show’s load-in. The cast was already in rehearsal. Presumably there was a nearly finished set somewhere, costumes on racks, and so on.

What happened to Nerds seems to happen every so often, but it’s one of the lesser discussed examples of a show going awry on Broadway. It doesn’t have the ignominy of closing immediately after its opening night (like the musical Glory Days) or the gossip page-worthiness of shutting down in previews (like the Farrah Fawcett vehicle Bobbi Boland). It’s not a case of a show that announced plans to happen, but never really came together, like Pump Boys and Dinettes did two years ago.

It’s not a saga like the cursed, headline-making musical Rebecca, twice underway and twice cancelled, with a con artist posing as the representative of a fictional investor behind its undoing. Because Nerds never began performances, it will never enter any of the history books or databases that would preserve its brush with Broadway.

Nerds was simply a lower profile show that, like a number before it, couldn’t survive the withdrawal of a key investor late in the game – or at least it stated that was the reason. The same thing happened to a revival of Godspell in 2008, although that one managed to get on three years later, with much of the same creative team and even a few of the same cast, albeit under the aegis of a different producer. But that’s more the exception.

The fate of Nerds is a reminder that for all of the bullish words about Broadway’s health – highest attendance! highest revenue! – many of the shows that get there may be doing so while playing a game of brinksmanship, racing the clock to get in the entire capitalisation by the legally mandated deadline. After all, if shows feature 10, 15, even 20 producers above the title, how many individual investors stand behind them, to make up budgets that can now be $4 million for a play, and in some cases four times that for a musical?

With Nerds, there are people who have suddenly been put out of work with no warning, there are people on the hook for expenses for a show that had its last full performance for a small invited audience on Wednesday in its rehearsal hall, there are creators whose dreams have been dashed. Nerds may quickly fade from the memories of the relatively few who were familiar with it, and it joins a list of other shows to meet the same fate. But it’s also an important reminder – in the era of juggernauts from The Phantom of The Opera and The Lion King to The Book of Mormon and Hamilton – of how many pieces have to come together to make a show a success, and just how fragile a new production can be.

The achievements of Lin-Manuel’s Hamilton are significant and expansive, so much so that I need not add to the proliferation of reviews, essays, parodies, think pieces and so on engendered by his landmark work. However, I feel that, in light of my increasingly senior status and the years of theatre history stashed in my head, I must point out that Lin was not the first to merge rap and American politics on the New York stage.

Travel back with me over 30 years, to an Off-Broadway venue in Greenwich Village known as The Village Gate. A cabaret theatre, it was home a number of acclaimed revues in its day including Jacques Brel is Alive and Well and Living in Paris in the 1960s, National Lampoon’s Lemmings (with Chevy Chase and John Belushi) in the 1970s and Tomfoolery in the 1980s. Closed in 1994, today the building that housed The Village Gate is, last I noticed, a CVS pharmacy.*

“Rap Master Ronnie” on vinyl

But for a very short time in 1984, thanks to composer Elizabeth Swados and lyricist Garry Trudeau (yes, of Doonesbury fame) then-President Ronald Reagan could be found on stage rapping away, while he was simultaneously in residence at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue. The opus that provided this platform? An hour-long revue called Rap Master Ronnie, with actor Reathel Bean in the title role.

An off-shoot of the Broadway Doonesbury musical that Trudeau and Swados had created just the year before, in truth Rap Master Ronnie had only a single rap number, the title tune (which then-Times critic Frank Rich cited as a high point). But while its musical styling wasn’t really beatbox-based overall, the show did interrogate Reagan’s presidency pointedly and musically in the weeks leading up to the 1984 election (which would ultimately see Reagan win a second term).

Speaking to Stephen Holden in The New York Times, when the revue began performances, Trudeau talked about the impetus for his theatrical advocacy, four years before his HBO series Tanner 88 and decades before his Amazon series Alpha House:

”I don’t know if there’s anything artistic being done about this election – it is either being ignored or given up on,” Mr. Trudeau observed. ”It didn’t seem right to me to let it go without trying to say something. The piece is enormously challenging because, as everybody knows, Reagan has proven unusually resistant to frontal assault. That’s a very difficult target to take aim at.”

It’s an interesting statement to read in an election year 32 years later, no?

I digress. I also admit to making the Hamilton link in perhaps my BuzzFeed-iest ploy for attention, just to lure you in to learn of largely forgotten bit of theatrical agitprop, that has nevertheless left one wonderful artifact: the music video version of the title track of Rap Master Ronnie. So I apologize for making you wade through everything up until now, and invite you to see a rapping political figure from days gone by – when everyone’s friend and role model Lin-Manuel was but two years old.

More trivia: Rap Master Ronnie’s limited run at The Village Gate was succeeded by another musical about a politican, Mayor, which portrayed then-NYC mayor Ed Koch in a decidedly more lighthearted lampoon. It was created by composer and lyricist Charles Strouse and marked the first significant credit for a young writer named Warren Leight, who would go on to win a Tony for Side Man and has been steering the Law and Order: Special Victims Unit franchise for several years. But again, I digress.

* Update: I am informed by reader Rafael Gallegos that the one-time Village Gate is now the nightclub Le Poisson Rouge. I swear it was a pharmacy for a time, but this shows you the last time I sought either medication or entertainment on Bleecker Street.

Bruce Willis in Misery (Photo by Joan Marcus)

It’s a tad too early to announce the emergence of a new trend, but two recent announcements suggest that there’s something brewing in the theatrical zeitgeist.

The announcements to which I refer are Quentin Tarantino’s repeated references to adapting his newest film The Hateful Eight for the stage, and Warner Bros Theatre Ventures’ announcement that Stephen Adly Guirgis will adapt the 1974 film Dog Day Afternoon for Broadway. I’m more sanguine about the latter than the former, because Guirgis is a proven theatrical talent who is likely to assert his own unique take on the true-life story that fuelled the Sidney Lumet film. While some have noted that The Hateful Eight is, if you strip away the profanity and slurs, the widescreen, and the protracted running time, really a western equivalent of an Agatha Christie locked room mystery.

The potential wave of which I speak is the movie-into-play adaptation, which seems poised to supplant the movie-into-musical and jukebox musical trends of recent years. This isn’t a brand new idea, and has actually been more common on British stages than American ones, with Chariots of Fire, The Shawshank Redemption, Cool Hand Luke and The Ladykillers among the examples. But when British exemplars have crossed the Atlantic, they haven’t set Broadway afire, with Festen and Elling being blink-and-you-missed-them failures. The Graduate ran for a year, but it closed more than 12 years ago.

Misery, now on Broadway in a different version than the UK one in the early 1990s, has held its own in the face of negative notices, buoyed no doubt by the Broadway debut of Bruce Willis, but its fortunes have been declining. Breakfast at Tiffany’s and A Time To Kill both closed particularly fast.

Experts will be quick to note that in many cases, the movie-to-play adaptations are often based on an original book from which the film and play have been adapted separately. But it’s usually the movie’s success and familiarity that prompts the theatrical version. The same impulse that has driven the trend for musical adaptations of movies seems to be behind these play efforts, with movie companies eager to exploit even properties that perhaps don’t lend themselves to musicalisation.

The problem is that drama into drama efforts often aren’t transformative enough to make the new stage versions compelling. When assembling songs into a story (like Mamma Mia!) or adding songs to one (Dirty Rotten Scoundrels), there is inevitably a change in the source material. But the play into play paradigm doesn’t necessarily undergo the same kind of revision and rethinking – even though it’s essential to making great theatre. And of course without fundamental change, the inevitable comparisons are easier to make.

The best film into stage adaptations (The Lion King, Once) create something that is an altogether new way of looking at the preceding work. If film companies’ only goal is to generate more income from existing material, and to trade on our affection for it, then this incipient genre may well prove an unsatisfying one, as so many jukebox musicals and movie-to-musical adaptations have been before.

Having also produced Misery, Warner Bros’ choice of Guirgis is a heartening one, particularly if they give him room to let his own imagination and language truly create a new work for the stage, rather than a photocopy. While I never want to see them lured away for long from original work, I can only imagine what artists like Annie Baker, Anne Washburn, Stephen Karam, Suzan-Lori Parks, Mike Lew, and Tarrell Alvin McCraney could do with some classic and – better still – not-so-classic films. But only if it interests them creatively – not just for the money.

This essay originally appeared in The Stage, under a slightly different title.

Bernadette Peters in Into The Woods

At first, they were a few lunchtime tweets, which proved of little interest, it seemed. But when I collected a couple, and added a few more, for a Facebook post at 9:30 pm on New Year’s Eve, they seemed to resonate. And so, with little ado, my New Year’s resolutions by way of lyrics and dialogue from works of theatre, but no less heartfelt for being so.

1. Talk less, smile more.
2. Wake each morning to realize I have a good thing going.
3. Never walk alone.
4. Decide what’s right, decide what’s good.
5. Half the fun is to plan the plan. All good things come to those who can wait.
6. Many people have to depend on the kindness of strangers. Be that stranger.
7. When I speak, and I will, be kind.

Sources

I don’t want to patronize those who recognize where these are all from, or presume that everyone will know each one. So if you want to seek any of these out in their original contexts, here are some details.

1. Lin-Manuel Miranda, Hamilton, direct quote
2. Stephen Sondheim, Merrily We Roll Along, “And then one morning I woke to realize, we had a good thing going.”
3. Oscar Hammerstein II, Carousel, “Walk on with hope in your heart and you’ll never walk alone.”
4. Stephen Sondheim, Into The Woods, “You decide what’s right, you decide what’s good.”
5. Stephen Sondheim, Sweeney Todd, direct quote
6. Tennessee Williams, A Streetcar Named Desire, “I have always depended on the kindness of strangers.”
7. Robert Anderson, Tea and Sympathy, “When you talk about this…and you will…be kind.”

Brian D’Arcy James, Andrew Rannells and Jonathan Groff perform at Ham4Ham

If you’re a dedicated fan of the musical Hamilton, or if you follow me on social media, you may well have come across the streetside #Ham4Ham show videos I’ve been sharing since late July. As I write, they’ve collectively been viewed on YouTube about 890,000 times – and that doesn’t include views of the same videos that have been uploaded directly to Facebook. So without doing a careful count, I can truthfully say the videos have been seen over 1.1 million times.

As a result, I have been labeled a Hamilton “superfan” on social media, and I’ve been interviewed by a handful of media outlets. I’ve been credited as “Ham4Ham documenter” in Entertainment Weekly. I even get recognized by people in the crowd when I show up to record the shows. But I’ve also found that there’s a lot of curiosity and outright confusion about what I’m doing there, so I’ve decided to satisfy the questioners and settle any uncertainty by asking myself questions I’ve actually been asked about my continuing presence at the #Ham4Ham shows – and a few no one has asked.

Why do you do it?

I started recording the shows in late July, before there hadn’t been much press specifically about #Ham4Ham shows, because I thought it would make for a blog post at some point, and also be material for my weekly column in London’s The Stage newspaper. That said, both the blog post and Stage column mention ran in early August.

But it’s now December. Why are you still showing up?

During previews, #Ham4Ham shows were happening daily, sometimes even twice a day. In the final weeks of previews, I was trying to get there pretty consistently, in the hope of coming up with a few great videos. But once the regular run began and Ham4Ham dropped to twice or perhaps three times a week, I found it had become a habit and, being a creature of habit in many things, I just keep going.

How do you manage to get to every one?

I don’t. I’ve missed dozens. I didn’t go for the first two weeks, and I’ve had week-long trips to California and England, as well as assorted conflicts. Because I do in fact have to work, and have a personal life, I’m not there all the time.

So how many times have you been to #Ham4Ham shows?

I’ve seen 43 of them.

But there are only 42 videos online right now. Why are you holding out?

That’s because I screwed up the recording once, on Halloween. I managed to start recording and accidently hit stop, without realizing it, about halfway through. I felt like an idiot. Fortunately my friend Laura Heywood (aka BroadwayGirlNYC) was also there that day, so there’s still good video readily available.

Do you work for the show?

Absolutely not. I’m doing this entirely on my own. In fact, I’ve decided that if anyone connected with the show ever calls me and specifically asks me to record something, I’ll stop altogether. I am not part of the show’s marketing and communications plan. If I shoot a video, I know full well that they may use it, but so can anyone else.

Do you know what the performance is going to be before it happens?

The night before Thanksgiving, I did an interview with Lin-Manuel for Dramatics magazine (look for it in February or March) and he did tell me what he had planned for that weekend. Once Lin tweeted me to say that he wouldn’t be at the show but that there would be “a lot” of people performing. That turned out to be the Broadway Inspirational Voices. But other than those instances, I don’t know anything more than what anyone can learn from reading Lin’s Twitter feed.

How can we believe you?

If I knew what was going to happen, I would have been in a much better position when Alexander from the Big Apple Circus did his juggling act. The only reason that turned out reasonably OK is because of camera zoom.

What kind of equipment do you use?

My iPhone. That’s it. I have a really nice DSLR that shoots video, but I’ve never learned how to use the video function. So I’m going the simple route.

Why won’t you use an even better camera if you have one?

Maybe I’ll try to learn how it all works during the holiday break. But you have to understand, I’d been shooting #Ham4Ham videos for a couple of weeks before I realized I ought to figure out how to get them off of my phone. I’d never posted to YouTube prior to that. It took me even longer to discover how to upload HD video. But let’s hear it for the iPhone.

How many times have you won the lottery?

Never. I don’t usually enter. I’m there for the Ham4Ham show. I’ve only entered a couple of times, when I’ve had friends in tow.

But you have seen Hamilton, right?

I’ve seen it twice, once at The Public and once on Broadway. I’d enjoy seeing it again, no doubt. Maybe for my birthday (hint, hint). And my eldest niece is dying to see it, so maybe I can figure out taking her.

Do you have any advice for people who want to shoot their own videos at Ham4Ham?

Always shoot horizontally – vertical only looks good on your phone. Hold your phone or camera with two hands, to keep it steady – you’d be surprise how hard it is to hold steady for four or five minutes. Get there about 45-50 minutes ahead of time for a decent spot – but remember that people are shooed off the sidewalk, so plant your toes as close to the curb as possible. Don’t sing along, laugh hysterically, scream Daveed’s name excitedly, and so on, because you’ll likely shake your camera in the process and you will be the loudest thing on your video.

Are you doing this to build your social media profile?

I admit that I’d love it if more people learned about my advocacy work as a result of this, but my sense is that people are watching because of Hamilton and not many find their way to my actual work. Sigh.

Have you monetized your YouTube stream?

No. I don’t own the rights to anything in the videos – the performances, the song rights, etc. I shouldn’t even try to profit from them.

Do you hear much from fans?

I see a lot of people posting how happy the videos make them. The most frequent comments seem to be a variant of people either  “dying” or “dead” as a result of watching. I’d just like to say that I have an alibi, and no jury would convict me.

Do people say anything to you directly?

People have been unbelievably warm and appreciative in writing to me about my videos. It’s lovely.

But c’mon, why do you really keep doing this? You’ve ducked the main question.

When I wrote the blog post that was the reason I started, I wrote about the extraordinary generosity of Lin-Manuel in creating the Ham4Ham show, which is entirely his doing. It’s not part of the production’s marketing plan, and given how the show is selling, they hardly need more promotion. I’ve kept this up because I’m not a performer myself (anymore), but if Lin, the Hamilton company, and people from many other shows can be kind enough to offer this up, it seems the least I can do is to try to preserve these one-of-a-kind moments for posterity, and help them to be seen by more than just the crowd on 46^th Street. This is my act of generosity, and I like to think that these videos will be watched for a long time to come. Just like Hamilton.

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Counting down my top five #Ham4Ham videos to date on YouTube (keeping in mind that these are just from those I’ve recorded, and other videos by various other people have even more views than some of these – plus views of direct uploads to Facebook aren’t counted):

Amber Riley, Shanice Williams and company in The Wiz. (Photo by Virginia Sherwood/NBC)

Last week, more than 11 million people in the US watched a live broadcast of the musical The Wiz, an adaptation of The Wizard of Oz that came almost 30 years before Wicked. Created for a black cast, it won best musical at the Tony Awards in 1975. The Wiz (2015 edition) was the third annual live musical from producers Craig Zadan and Neil Meron, following The Sound of Music in 2013 and Peter Pan last year. The Wiz was, by consensus, vastly superior to the previous two, and I happen to agree; in fact, I tweeted that opinion only 75 minutes into the three-hour broadcast. As has always been the plan, The Wiz production is now expected to run on Broadway in the 2016-17 season, although it’s unlikely the stage version will manage to field a cast like the broadcast did. Among the performers were Mary J Blige, Queen Latifah, Ne-Yo and, in a cameo role, Common.

Mind you, the early days of US television, when most broadcasts were live, were filled with adaptations of plays, and some distinguished works first written for TV, like Horton Foote’s The Trip to Bountiful or Rod Serling’s Requiem for a Heavyweight were later adapted for both the stage and as films. Remarkably, what seems to be driving the new popularity of live staged TV are social media, which value the immediacy of sports, awards broadcasts and, yes, theatre, because as they unfold in real time – with all of the spontaneity and potential for gaffes intact – they create the opportunity for shared experiences online. Indeed, audience members can chat away with one another throughout these shows without disrupting anyone else; they can even let their cellphone rings without causing an interruption in the performance.

This blurring of the stage and screen is happening at an accelerating pace in a variety of ways. While NT Live has forged new paths for the streaming of theatre to cinemas around the world (though they’re only really live in the UK and nearby time zones), the US has been much slower to adopt the model, due in part to more restrictive, and therefore expensive, union agreements. That said, just last night, the Off-Broadway production of the intimate musical Daddy Long Legs was streamed live online for viewing anywhere, which is an important development that will surely be closely watched as a test case. Can the embrace of video technology add value to a property or production even when it’s offered up gratis?

This week has also seen the daily release of new videos from the second series of My America short films from Centerstage in Maryland, where artistic director Kwame Kwei-Armah has been exploring the intersection of film and theatre by commissioning original short plays from an array of writers. The new series has been shot guerrilla-style on sites where racial violence has taken place, essential spots in the new civil rights movement. But it blurs the traditional lines between the mediums by shooting plays in real-life settings specifically for video viewing; it’s theatre that won’t play in a theatre.

Just as the word television is becoming more a term for a specific viewing appliance, as opposed to the content itself, what we consider theatre may have to evolve as well. Purists will say that The Wiz was a Broadway text and score produced for video, not theatre – in no small part because there was no audience present – and that despite the credentials of the participating authors, My America is essentially a film series.

But perhaps we should be worrying less about the labels and looking more at impact: The Wiz may have inspired an interest in theatre among young people who may never be able to attend the show’s promised Broadway run; the Daddy Long Legs stream may help promote a chamber piece into the musical theatre repertory; live audiences could not have attended a play performed outside the burned out chemist shop that went up in flames during the Baltimore riots.

And in the US, it’s worth noting that the largest national audience for musical sequences from Broadway shows isn’t on the annual Tony Awards broadcast – it’s found in the first hour of the broadcast of the venerable Thanksgiving Day Parade from New York, which is seen by more than 20 million people. Just because it’s not performed in a theatre, does it stop being theatre?

This essay originally appeared in The Stage.

It is not my habit to offer my opinion about current productions, and I tend to even avoid doing so retrospectively. But I do want to briefly discuss the shows I’ve seen over the past week or so, because they’re never the same each night, because they’re exceptionally brief, and because they’re free. I’m referring to the “Ham4Ham Show,” the two to three minute bits of entertainment offered up outside the Richard Rodgers Theatre at the ticket lottery two hours before each preview of the new musical Hamilton.

For those who haven’t seen them or heard about them, the Ham4Ham shows can be anything – you have no idea what you’ll get – that the protean Lin-Manuel Miranda and the company choose to present. It could be a song, a dance, a Q & A with Lin in which he answers using only the lyrics of a favorite musical. But what it means is that those who’ve trekked to 46^th Street in hope of snagging a pair of seats in the front row of the theatre for the performance two hours hence for only $10 a ticket may walk away empty handed, but they’ve gotten a little something more than suspense out of the experience.

Now it’s easy to look at this and be cynical, if you tend that way, thinking this is all about selling tickets. But while videos of the nightly event may spread out on social media (and the show’s official accounts do participate in that), the performance is first and foremost for people who haven’t bought seats, and very possibly can’t get or can’t afford tickets any other way. It is an act of generosity by Lin and the company, without a marketing message attached; indeed, it seems more an expression of gratitude to fans than anything else.

I say this as someone who has attended a dozen of these little shows, and viewed others online. I find the spirit of the crowd and of those who come out to perform to be enormously congenial and electric. I’ve seen no jostling for space, no rivalry among those competing for the same tickets, and I’ve watched the crowd spill into the street in blazing heat and humidity without complaint. I don’t attend to enter the lottery – I’ve been going to see, enjoy and record the shows for those without the proximity or time to attend in person. It just so happens that my office is on 46^th Street and I simply have to cross Broadway to be there.

As theatres talk about how to engage audiences, there’s no question that Ham4Ham is a sterling example, if not necessarily a replicable model. To tick off just some the things that make this unique: 1) Lin-Manuel wrote and stars in Hamilton, so it’s truly his show, 2) no one is required to perform, they’re doing it entirely of their own accord, 3) lots of theatres don’t have the easy foot traffic that New York can generate to draw impromptu crowds, 4) not every show has the advance excitement (and sales) that Hamilton has generated off of its run at The Public – and so on. But it’s also worth noting that, my personal example aside, people would be there trying for the cheap tickets regardless – Ham4Ham is simply a bonus.

For all the reasons why Ham4Ham would be difficult to reproduce, there is something at its core that can perhaps provoke other models of engagement for other shows, for other theatres. If we can all learn from Lin-Manuel’s example and actively engage in giving something to audiences that they can’t get anywhere else, outside of the space that they need a ticket to enter, that may even stand alone and apart from what’s being offered on our stages, then perhaps we’ll find some new friends and new relationships that go far beyond just ‘how do we sell more tickets.’

Once Hamilton opens on Thursday, Ham4Ham may be less frequent, or perhaps change in format. So for everyone who has been out on 46th Street since the Ham4Ham shows began, thanks Lin, thanks Ariana, thanks Jon, thanks Renee, thanks Okieriete, thanks Karen, thanks Jon, thanks Philippa, thanks Alex – and thanks everyone I haven’t named too. The best show in town was the crowd, outside the R. Rodgers Theatre for A. Hamilton.

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The videos above were all shot by me (and let’s hear it for the iPhone), as was the photo at the top of the post, but here are a few more, shot by others in the crowd, that I think you’ll enjoy:

Sundays tend to be slow days for theatre news, if you get most of your theatre news online. By the time I sit down to trawl through “the Sunday papers” for theatre stories to share, primarily through my Twitter account, I’ve seen most of what’s on offer already. The New York Times Arts stories start filtering out through Twitter and Facebook as early as Wednesday, the Sunday column of Chris Jones at The Chicago Tribune is usually available by Friday afternoon, and so on.

I look at my theatre news curation on Sundays as perfunctory (just as Saturdays tend to be particularly busy), knowing I’m unlikely to find much, which is why a story in the Lincoln, Nebraska Journal Star managed to catch my eye. It’s not, so far as I can tell, in the paper’s arts or entertainment section, but in local news, the sort of charming slice of life that columnists look for to illuminate their communities. However reporter Conor Dunn found out about impresario Dylan Lawrence’s production of Shrek: The Musical in a neighbor’s backyard, I’m awfully glad it came to the paper’s attention, and that I stumbled upon it. If you haven’t seen it yet, here’s a taste:

Now 13, Dylan pulled off his first major production this weekend — “Shrek: The Musical” — at The Backyard Theatre in southeast Lincoln, a venue literally carved out of a family’s backyard and completely run by kids.

This isn’t the first time Dylan has directed a play, however. It’s just in a new location. Last summer, he and 10 of his friends performed “The Wizard of Oz” in his Lincoln backyard. Dylan said the cast put the show together in just nine days and about 70 people attended.

*   *   *

While most theatrical productions have a set and a stage crew, Dylan took most of the roles on himself, alongside directing and performing as Lord Farquaad in the show.

He’s sewn the costumes, designed the props, rented a sound system and also created light cues using a software program on his laptop. He even created The Backyard Theatre’s website.

I have no doubt that there are other Dylan Lawrences out there, so I like to look at this story not as a wholly unique incident, but rather as emblematic of the grassroots love of theatre that inspires kids, and that in turn can inspire even those of us working at it professionally. I’m glad it’s finding resonance online ­– my post has been “liked” on Facebook 72 times in less than two hours and shared 37 times, including by David Lindsay-Abaire, who wrote the show’s book and lyrics. I suspect the number will climb much higher, because I believe that many more people will connect to it in the same way that I did.

There was one comment posted to me on Twitter, where I also shared the Journal Star story, saying “Hope he has the rights.” While I am adamant that authors should be compensated for their work, I wonder whether this ad hoc production by children 14 and under, with no institutional backing or adult leadership, reaches the level at which a license is required, and I intend to find out. However, if it turns out that a license should be paid, I don’t want my decision to share a local story that might have otherwise gone unnoticed to be visited upon Dylan and his company; consequently, I’ll pay for any rights required myself, to help Dylan practice what I preach, because it’s a small price to pay for encouraging the love of theatre and for a tale that reminds so many of us why we got into this crazy and thrilling business in the first place.

I performed on stage for the very first time as Charlie Brown at my day camp’s condensation of You’re A Good Man, Charlie Brown into about 20 minutes. I’m willing to bet it was unauthorized and unlicensed, and I don’t say that to encourage scofflaws, but merely as a fact. While it sounds like The Backyard Players of Lincoln, Nebraska are considerably more sophisticated than the rudimentary theatrics at Camp Jolly circa 1969, I feel a kinship to Dylan, even though he is obviously significantly more enterprising than I was. So I urge you to read his story and, perhaps, remember that very first time you made a stage in your backyard or your basement, or sang a show tune in elementary school before you’d even seen a play. Because we all started somewhere, and we need to always celebrate those taking their first theatrical steps whenever the opportunity presents itself.

Update, July 27, 7 a.m.: 18 hours after I first shared the Journal Star story via Facebook, my posting has been liked 107 times and shared 81 times. I have no way of knowing how it spread beyond there, but the original story on the Journal Star website has been “Facebook recommended” over 2700 times. We are that kid.

Not to dash anyone’s dreams, but I think it’s fair to say that the majority of the hundreds of thousands of students who participate in high school theatre annually will not go on to professional careers in the arts. The same holds true for the student musicians in orchestras, bands and ensembles. They all benefit from the experience in many ways: from the teamwork, the discipline and the appreciation of the challenge and hard work that goes into such endeavors, to name but a few attributes.

But for some students, those high school experiences may be the foundation of a career, of a life, and it’s an excellent place for skills and principles to be taught. As a result, I have, on multiple occasions, heard creative artists talk about their wish that students could learn about the basics of copyright, which can for writers, composers, designers, and others be the root of how they’ll be able to make a life in the creative arts, how their work will reach audiences, how they’ll actually earn a living.

I’m not suggesting that everyone get schooled in the intricacies of copyright law, but that as part of the process of creating and performing shows, students should come to understand that there is a value in the words they speak and the songs they sing, a concept that’s increasingly frayed in an era of file sharing, sampling, streaming and downloading. Creative artists try to make this case publicly from time to time, whether it’s Taylor Swift pulling her music from Spotify over the service’s allegedly substandard rate of compensation to artists or Jason Robert Brown trying to explain why copying and sharing his sheet music is tantamount to theft of his work. But without an appreciation for what copyright protects and supports, it’s difficult for the average young person to understand what this might one day mean to them, or to the people who create work that they love.

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All of this brings me to a seemingly insignificant example, that of a production of the musical The Wiz at Skyline High School in Oakland, California back in 2011. Like countless schools, Skyline mounted a classic musical for their students’ education and enjoyment, in this case playing eight performances in their 900 seat auditorium, charging $10 a head. These facts might be wholly unremarkable, except for one salient point: the school didn’t pay for the rights to perform the show.

The licensing house Samuel French only learned this year about the production, and consequently went about the process of collecting their standard royalty. Over the course of a few months, French staff corresponded with school staff and volunteers connected with the drama program, administration and ultimately the school system’s attorney. French’s executive director Bruce Lazarus shared the complete correspondence with me, given my interest in authors’ rights and in school theatre.

I’m very sympathetic to any school that wants to give their students a great arts experience, and so the drama advisor’s discussion in the correspondence of limited resources and constrained budgets really struck me. Oakland is a large district and Skyline is an inner-city school; I have no reason to doubt their concerns about the quoted royalty costs for The Wiz being beyond their means. But their solution to this quandary took them off course.

Skyline claims that they did their own “adaptation” of The Wiz, securing music online and assembling their own text, under the belief that this released them from any responsibility to the authors and the licensing house. While they tagged their ads for the show with the word “adaptation,” it’s a footnote, and if one looks at available photos or videos from the production, it seems pretty clear that their Wiz is firmly rooted in the original material, even the original Broadway production. Surely the text was a corruption of the original and perhaps songs were reordered or even eliminated. It’s also worth noting that Skyline initially inquired about the rights, but then opted to do the show without an agreement.

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OK, so one school made a mistake over three and a half years ago – what’s the big deal? That brings me to the position taken by the Oakland Unified School District regarding French’s pursuit of appropriate royalties. OUSD has completely denied that French has any legitimate claim per their attorney, Michael L. Smith. In a mid-October letter, Mr. Smith cites copyright law statute of limitations, saying that since it has been more than three years since the alleged copyright violation, French is “time barred from any legal proceeding.” Explication of that position constitutes the majority of the letter, save for a phrase in which Mr. Smith states, “As you are likely aware, there are limitations on exclusive rights that may apply in this instance, including fair use.”

As I’m no attorney, I can’t research or debate the fine points of statutes of limitation, either under federal or California law. However, I’ve read enough to understand that there’s some disagreement within the courts, as to when the three-year clock begins on a copyright violation. It may be from the date of the alleged infringement itself, in this case the date of the March and April 2011 performances, but it also may be from the date the infringement is discovered, which according to French was in September 2014. We’ll see how that plays out.

The passing allusion to fair use provisions is perhaps of greater interest in this case. Fair use provides for the utilization of copyrighted work under certain circumstances in certain ways. Per the U.S. Copyright office:

Copyright Law cites examples of activities that courts have regarded as fair use: “quotation of excerpts in a review or criticism for purposes of illustration or comment; quotation of short passages in a scholarly or technical work, for illustration or clarification of the author’s observations; use in a parody of some of the content of the work parodied; summary of an address or article, with brief quotations, in a news report; reproduction by a library of a portion of a work to replace part of a damaged copy; reproduction by a teacher or student of a small part of a work to illustrate a lesson; reproduction of a work in legislative or judicial proceedings or reports; incidental and fortuitous reproduction, in a newsreel or broadcast, of a work located in the scene of an event being reported.”

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Rather than parsing the claims and counterclaims between Samuel French and the school district, I consulted an attorney about fair use, though in the abstract, not with the specifics of the show or school involved. I turned to M. Graham Coleman, a partner at the firm of Davis Wright Tremaine in their New York office. Coleman works in all legal aspects of live theatre production and counsels clients on all aspects of copyright and creative law. He has also represented me on some small matters.

“In our internet society, “ said Coleman, “there is a distortion of fair use. We live in a world where it’s so easy to use someone’s proprietary material. The fact that you based work on something else doesn’t get you off the hook with the original owner.”

Without knowing the specifics of Skyline’s The Wiz, Coleman said, “They probably edited, they probably varied it, but they probably didn’t move it into fair use. Taking a protectable work and attempting to ‘fair use’ it is not an exercise for the amateur.”

Regarding the language in fair use rules that cite educational purposes, Coleman said, “Regardless of who you are, once you start charging an audience admission, you’re a commercial enterprise. Educational use would be deemed to mean classroom.”

While Coleman noted that the cost of pursuing each and every copyright violation by schools might be cost prohibitive for the rights owners, he said that, “It becomes a matter of principle and cost-effectiveness goes out the window. They will be policed. Avoiding doing it the bona fide way will catch up with you.”

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That’s where the Skyline scenario gets more complicated – because their “adaptation” of The Wiz wasn’t their only such appropriation of copyrighted material. In 2012, the school produced a stage version of Julie Taymor’s Beatles-inspired film Across The Universe, billing it accordingly and crediting John Lennon and Paul McCartney as the songwriters. The problem is, there is no authorized stage adaptation of the film, although there have been intermittent reports that Taymor is contemplating her own, which her attorney affirmed to me. In this case, the Skyline production is still within the statute of limitations for a copyright claim.

I attempted to contact both the principal of Skyline High and the superintendent of the school district about this subject, ultimately reaching the district’s director of communications Troy Flint. In response to my questions about The Wiz, Flint said, “We believe that we were within our rights. I can’t go into detail because I’m not prepared to discuss our legal strategy. We believe this use was permissible.”

He couldn’t speak to Across The Universe; it seemed that I may have been the first to bring it to the district’s attention. Flint said he didn’t know whether other Skyline productions, such as Hairspray and Dreamgirls, had been done with licenses from rights companies, although I was able to confirm independently that Hairspray was properly licensed. Which raises the question of why standard protocol for licensing productions was followed with some shows and not others.

*   *   *

My fundamental interest is in seeing vital and successful academic theatre. So while their identities are easily accessible, I’ve avoided naming the teacher, principal and even the superintendent at Skyline because I don’t want to make this one example personal. But I do want to make it an example.

Whether or not I, or anyone, personally agree with the provisions of U.S. copyright law isn’t pertinent to this discussion, and neither is ignorance of the law. The fact is that the people who create work (and their heirs and estates) have the right to control and benefit from that work during the copyright term. Whether the content is found in a published script and score, shared on the internet or transcribed from other media, the laws hold.

If the Skyline examples were the sole violations, a general caution would be unnecessary, but in the past three months alone, Samuel French has discovered 35 unlicensed/unauthorized productions at schools and amateur companies, according to the company’s director of licensing compliance Lori Thimsen. Multiply that out over other rights houses, and over time, and the number is significant. This even happens at the professional level.

At the start, I suggested that students should know the basic of copyright law, both out of respect for those who might make their careers as creative artists, as well as for those who will almost certainly be consumers of copyrighted content throughout their lives. But it occurs to me that these lessons are appropriate for their teachers as well, notwithstanding the current legal stance at Skyline High. There can and should be appreciation for creators’ achievements as well as their rights, and appropriate payment for the use of their work – and those who regularly work with that material should make absolutely certain they know the parameters, to avoid and prevent unwitting, and certainly intentional, violations.

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One final note: some of you may remember Tom Hanks’s Oscar acceptance speech for the film Philadelphia, when he paid tribute to his high school drama teacher for playing a role in his path to success. It might interest you to know that Hanks attended Skyline High and thanks in part to a significant gift from him, the school’s theatre – where the shows in question were performed – was renovated and renamed for that teacher, Rawley Farnsworth, in 2002. Hanks also used the occasion of the Oscars to cite Farnsworth and a high school classmate as examples of gay men who were so instrumental in his personal growth.

I have no doubt that there are other such inspirational teachers and students at Skyline High today, perhaps working in the arts there under constrained budgets and resources. Yet regardless of statutes of limitations, it seems that the Rawley T. Farnsworth Theatre should be a place where respect for and responsibility to artists is taught and practiced, as a fundamental principle – and where students get to perform works as their creators intended, not as knockoffs designed to save money.

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Update, December 3, 2014, 4 pm: This post went live at at approximately 10:30 am EST this morning. I received an e-mail from OUSD’s director of communications Troy Flint at approximately 1 pm asking whether the post was finished and whether he could add to his comments from yesterday. I indicated that the post was live and provided a link, saying that I have updated posts before and would consider an addendum with anything I found to be pertinent. He just called to provide the following statement, which I reproduce in its entirety.

Whatever the legality of the situation at Skyline regarding The Wiz and Across The Universe, the fundamental principle is that we want the students to respect artists’ work and what they put into the product. My understanding is that Skyline’s use of this material is legally defensible, but that’s not the best or highest standard.

As we help our students develop artistically, we want to make sure they have the proper respect and understanding of the work that’s involved with creating a play for the stage or the cinema. So we have spoken with the instructors at Skyline about making sure they follow all the protocols regarding rights and licensing, because we don’t want to be in a position of having the legality of one of our productions questioned as they are now and we don’t want to be perceived as taking advantage of artists unintentionally as we are now. It’s not just a legal issue but an issue of educating students properly.

While everyone I have spoken with about this issue disagrees fairly strenuously with the opinion of the OUSD legal counsel, it’s encouraging that the district wants to stand for artists’ rights and avoid this sort of conflict going forward. I hope they will ultimately teach not only the principle, but the law. As for past practice, I leave that to the lawyers.

Update, December 3, 2014, 7 pm: Following my update with the statement from the school district, I received a statement of response from Bruce Lazarus, executive director of Samuel French. It is excerpted here.

By withholding the proper royalty for The Wiz from the authors, the OUSD is communicating to their students that artistic work is worthless. Is this an appropriate message for any budding artist? That you too can grow up to write a successful musical…only to then have a school district destroy your work and willfully withhold payment?

It needs to be made clear to the OUSD and the students involved that an artist’s livelihood depends on receiving payment for their creative work. This is how artists make a living. How they pay the rent and feed their families. It is simply unbelievable that this issue can be tossed aside with an “Our bad, won’t happen again” response without consideration of payment for their unauthorized taking of another’s property.

Are other students of the OUSD, those that are not artists, being educated to expect payment for their services rendered when they presumably become doctors, engineers, entrepreneurs and the next leaders of the Bay Area? Of course they are. And so it goes for the artists in your classrooms, who should be able to grow up KNOWING there is protection for their future work and a real living wage to be made.

Equal time granted, I leave it the respective parties to resolve the issue of what has already taken place.

10 days ago, I was completely unaware that an Icelandic musical had established a beachhead in one of Off-Broadway’s larger theatres. To be honest, I’d never given much thought to Icelandic theatre, let alone their musicals. So when I spotted an online Village Voice story about the show’s musical score and gave it a skim, that alone was enough to make me want to see this rara avis. So I spent Saturday afternoon, a beautiful August afternoon, in the dark at the Minetta Lane. But there’s actually a slew of other reasons why I went.

RARITY As someone who prides himself on obscure knowledge and eccentric experiences, I am fairly (but not absolutely) certain that there have not been major productions of Icelandic musicals before in New York, or even the United States. I remember a Polish musical making it to Broadway, although I didn’t see Metro, and there was a Dutch musical of Cyrano, but I daresay a piece of Icelandic musical theatre making its world premiere in New York is most likely a first. Please contradict me if you’re able.

Cady Huffman & Marrick Smith in Ragnar Agnarsson (Carol Rosegg photo)

NAME Let’s face it, it’s pretty hard to resist a title like The Revolution in the Elbow of Ragnar Agnarsson Furniture Painter. At least it is for me. While it’s not as mellifluous as Oh Dad, Poor Dad, Mama’s Hung You In The Closet and I’m Feeling So Sad and doesn’t approach the monumental length of The Persecution and Assassination of Jean-Paul Marat as Performed by the Inmates of the Asylum of Charenton Under the Direction of the Marquis de Sade, I wanted to catch it before the musical buffs start calling it simply Ragnar or Elbow, shortened like How To Succeed or Forum. Just mentioning that I was going to it genuinely startled some people and I suspect the title will have that effect among the uninitiated for some time.

ICELAND I’ve actually been to Iceland. Not in a “quick stopover thanks to cheap flights via Icelandair on the way to Europe” way, but a two week stay. Mind you, I was 15 and it was a Boy Scout trip, but Iceland was the first foreign country I ever visited – I hadn’t even been to Canada when I went. I chose it precisely because I didn’t know anyone who had ever been there, passing up (if memory serves) alternate forays to Scotland and Jamaica. I went with so little preparation that I didn’t even know that the sun doesn’t set there in July. I climbed a (then dormant) volcano. It was all a discovery.

As a result, I’ve always followed news of the island country and thought it might give me an excuse to troop out some old knowledge. Without prompting, I explained to my wife, based solely on the title, that I knew the title character Ragnar’s father is named Agnar, given the patronymic naming that prevails in the country. Impressed? Incidentally, when I checked the website RagnarAgnarsson.com, I discovered that it belongs to a filmmaker, not to the show. For all I know, Ragnar Agnarsson could be the Icelandic equivalent of John Smith.

MUSIC I am well aware that there have been successful bands and performers out of Iceland, like Björk and Sigur Rós and The Sugarcubes, but to be honest, I’m not sure I’d recognize any of their music, only the swan dress, so perhaps this was a chance to acquaint myself with a certain rock style that had passed me by. Of course, I have no way of knowing whether the score by Ívar Páll Jónsson is representative of current tastes in Iceland or not. But now, it’s all I’ve got.

Kate Shindle & Cady Huffman in Ragnar Agnarsson (Carol Rosegg photo)

THEATRE Frame of reference, I realized as I watched, was something I lacked theatrically as well. While everyone I met in Iceland all those years ago spoke both English and Icelandic, that didn’t tell me a thing about what theatrical styles might be favored in this country of only 300,000 residents. Have they evolved their own aesthetic, do they lean toward America or England or Scandinavia or some other European region? Do they stage sagas? One show, I realized, wasn’t going to teach me that. But it was a reminder about how much of world theatre has passed me by, or that I have passed by.

It was interesting to note that the director Bergur Þór Ingólfsson directed the hit Icelandic production of Mary Poppins and producer Karl Pétur Jónsson was behind Icelandic productions of Hedwig and the Angry Inch and The Complete Works of William Shakespeare (abridged). So maybe the cultural chasm isn’t all that wide. Of course, since the show is premiering in New York and not Reykjavik, we don’t actually know what the Icelandic public thinks of Ragnar. It could be an outlier there. Interesting strategy.

CAST Cady Huffman. Kate Shindle. What’s not to like? Those were the only two names I recognized when I looked the show up in the Theatrical Index. But it’s also great to see actors I’m not familiar with too, in this case the rest of the cast.

PLOT What appealed to me most about the plot its utter opacity. I’ve reached the point where it’s pretty difficult for me to see a show without some sense of what I’m in for. Save for my experiment a year ago at the New York International Fringe Festival, where I let someone I still have never met choose my itinerary, I have some manner of preconceived notion, however slight, about everything I see. What a joy to approach a show as a completely blank slate. For all the shows I go to with anticipation about the cast, the author, the director and so on, or with a vague sense of dread, I rarely feel the excitement of the utter unknown. Even with the fringe, I did read show synopses once I was given my marching orders. Perhaps what I felt was akin to what the folks are trying to do at the Lyric Hammersmith’s Secret Theatre in London, though in some cases there, you may recognize the play as soon as it starts. In Elbow, everything was new.

*  *  *

Basically, I saw The Revolution in the Elbow of Ragnar Agnarsson Furniture Painter so that I could practice what I preach. Admittedly cost and time are usually part of our decision making, and legitimate factors at that, but we are forever self-selecting our entertainment. Once in a while, it’s refreshing to go to something completely in the dark. For those of us in the business of the arts, it’s a reminder of the faith audiences place in us when we convince them to come to an event that doesn’t have famous names or a familiar title. It takes us outside of the bubble of professional connections and journalism and gossip that inform our own decisions on what to see and, at least until we’ve spent a little time taking it in, enables (or forces) us to be completely open about a show because we know so little.

Obviously I’ve been very careful not to say what I thought of the show, and nothing herein should be extrapolated out to as either endorsement or indictment. It will open at the end of the week, and then it will be difficult to experience the show as unaware as I did, as others declare their opinions for your consumption. After that, you’ll have to look for, perhaps, an Estonian epic or a Uruguayan musical when it lands on our shores for your own tabula rasa experience in the theatre.

As for me, I can just say that I’ve plunged rather unknowingly into two Icelandic adventures in my life and – you should pardon the allusion – how cool is that?