Let the Hate Flow Through You…

**DISCLAIMER: There will be no more Star Wars references going forward**

There is a place in the world for the bad…

So it was about ten years ago. Maybe more. Wait, how old are my kids? Good lord, I’m old.

Okay, it was more than ten years ago, but not quite twenty, and I was younger and energetic and doing a lot of theater. Primarily an actor, I also did lighting and directing and dance. Writing had been limited to short plays for children, so no experience with real, full-on adult drama. Still, I knew what I loved about theater; the art, the precision, the work ethic. Creating great product was more important than making dollars. I was passionate, and part of being passionate is working on thoughtful, interesting, insightful works which are seen by a handful of people, yet touch each of them deeply.

Going to “big” theater was rare, unless I was there to hang lights or run cables. For a birthday present or an anniversary gift or something, tickets to a show which had garnered a lot of attention from critics landed in my lap. I won’t say the name of the play here, because that would be rude. But it was the talk of the town, and I was excited. I wore a tie. I hated ties. They’ve grown on me, since. But back then, they were a choke-chain collar.

Upon walking in, the set was a cool, open-space kind of thing; three-quarters in the round, and sparsely furnished. I liked it. It was nothing but possibilities. They were playing some pop song which was popular that week. Excellent, new production, playing music of a new theater generation. Good move. The lights went down, the actors took their places, and we dove into the world. Twenty minutes in, and I was really digging it.

Then the first scene change happened, and everything went to hell.

The lights went down. Music came on. What the frick? Was it intermission? No, it’s too dark. The actors left the stage, and from the wings emerged a horde of crew members, all wearing black, but with headsets and walkie-talkies with little glowing lights. They moved about the stage (note that I didn’t say sped or scampered or ran, they took their sweet time), picking up and moving set pieces, rearranging, adjusting things, all the while their little lights bobbing up and down, round around. It looked like the world’s laziest rave. Then, when all was set and done, the actors came out, in the dark, took their spots with… um… slightly overly dramatic poses, and the lights came up.

And fifteen minutes later, it happened again.

And again.

And again.

Every set change was the same thing. Lights down, a solid, SOLID minute to two minutes of set changes, actors in place, lights up. And every time it happened, it broke the flow of the performance. It threw needless interruption into the story and made it impossible for the audience to become engaged fully. It was a terrible choice, or series of choices, or whatever.

And I. Was. Mad. So mad, in fact, that as I rode the train home, I talked about it nonstop. I was relentless, to the point where the person with me said, “well if you know how to do it better, you should.” And that shut me the hell up, not because it humbled me, but because they were right. I should do better.

I spent the next few days pondering over how to create a story which would flow from one scene to the next, no interruptions, no breaks, and still give the actors enough of a breather to recoup after a powerful scene. It forced me to think about technical aspects – set pieces, costumes, props – and how to integrate them in a way which didn’t require crew members lumbering on and off stage. It was a challenge, but one I felt could and should be addressed.

Within a month, I’d written a play called, “The Perfect Ending”. It wasn’t amazing. It was funny, and clever, and needed a lot of work. It took three actors to perform, and was ninety minutes which kept up the pace while moving the audience between multiple spaces. The concept was relatively simple: storytelling. Characters were literally telling each other stories. Because of this, they could speak their dialogue while changing to set to match whatever part of the story was coming up. And yes, some might see this as a bit of a cheat, but that’s not the point.

Without the bad, I wouldn’t have known what was good.

There is a place for the bad, be it writing, art, film, science… anything. Because it’s what you do with it, and how you let it drive you, that matters.

Find something bad, then do it better.