MEETING THEATER PATRONS HALFWAY >>>

It's that time of year again, when theater companies gather to haggle over their upcoming seasons. For various reasons (including, I suspect, our training in academic theater), most troupes operate from September to May. Directors stride into meetings with all guns blazing, ready to defend their chosen scripts to the death. Board members flinch when unfamiliar titles are mentioned. The artistic director tries vainly to remind everyone of their mission statement, which plainly discourages all-nude productions of Our Town. The technical director is near tears as she adds up the cost and labor necessary to mount K2. And actors immediately begin psyching each other out when some coveted role is put forward. It's amazing how a genial smile can so persuasively convey, "You'll pry the role of Cordelia from my cold, dead hands, you pasty anorexic bitch!"

There are way too many factors to consider. First of all, companies have to stay financially solvent. The operative question has always been, "What do you, our paying pubic, want to see?" The average American knows the names of maybe half a dozen playwrights, only one or two of which are alive and still working. The names "Deborah Zoe Laufer" or "Tracy Letts" will not be a draw to the average South Sounder, no matter how good their oeuvres might be. Every actor wants to test his or her mettle against the Bard, but Shakespeare elicits as many shudders as smiles from regular patrons. Do we give the community what it wants, or what it should want? Who are we to decide? Frankly, what does our audience know? Aren't we the experts? Ah, but they're the folks with money, so...

That nice lady who runs the flower shop keeps pestering us to produce Arsenic and Old Lace because she loved it as a child. Our renegade director with the happy/sad mask tattoo wants to do Speed-the-Plow. An actor with a killer body but not-so-hot talent thinks she'd be terrific as Medea. We decided last year to do Greater Tuna this year, but nobody wants to direct it. Should we do a musical? My cousin Jerry can play the accordion. If we start rehearsing now, maybe we can learn how to tap dance by April!

Often, theater companies vie to produce the same script within months of each other, and this doesn't just apply to the hottest new scripts fresh from off-Broadway triumphs. That's how we got two productions of Little Women (one musical, one not) running concurrently, and three productions of Doubt in as many years. Is that good or bad? Is it rude to stage a show someone else did last year, or is it just being savvy enough to take advantage of that group's marketing budget?

Then there's the question of scheduling. One of my proudest achievements was helping found a not-for-profit theater company in Ada, Oklahoma, where a serious issue each spring was the date of the PBR rodeo tournament. Good luck drawing houses against that behemoth! In Olympia, where we're certainly not hurting for quality theater, it seems there are certain months each year where friendly competition devolves into an ugly game of chicken. There was a weekend this spring when half a dozen plays opened within 48 hours of each other. No one blinks. It's arrogant, I think, often costly, but it's hard to avoid.

My fellow critics and I are compiling our own reviewing schedules for 2011-2012. We groan over the inclusion of old war horses, and perk up at any glimmer of novelty. We look forward to the work of established artists, and to meeting new talents and watching them come into their own. Most of all, we wish you all challenging opportunities, not to mention positive balance sheets in June of 2012.