In summer ice cream is a serious issue.  In a real-life "Calvin and Hobbes" moment, the author saw a father tell his four year-old boy about summer ice cream as an ice cream truck pulled through the neighborhood.  The father explained that at the beginning of summer "they" make enough ice cream to fill the truck, and when the man sells all his ice cream -- that's it for the summer.  The boy was left in a true dilemma -- should he go ahead and have ice cream today and deplete the over-all supply, or should he hold off and gamble that his sacrifice now will mean the availability of supply later in the summer? Certainly anyone in line at an ice cream shop knows about the importance of choosing just the right flavor.

What does this have to do with theatre?

There are times that our regional and university theatres seem to take less consideration in choosing plays to show to their audiences than a child choosing the right flavor of ice cream.

Before readers of this column start to write that flaming e-mail about how much is taken into consideration when they select a play, let the writer assure them all he believes them.  This writer has also had to go through the excruciating process of choosing plays and putting together seasons.  There are innumerable questions to be answered -- will the board or producer or faculty committee approve it?  Can we cast it?  Do we have enough money to produce it?  What problems have to be solved to mount the damn thing?  For example, I might want to do a lovely play called The Dragon.  But a character shoots fire and also switches heads in full view of the audience. If I'm thinking of a cinematic realistic means of production and have a projected budget of $100 bucks, these questions are worth asking.  Or, put another way, doing Hamlet without an actor capable of playing the part makes for a long evening.

But there's another level of question that seems not to get asked -- particularly in view of some of the lists of plays one sees advertised around the country.  What stories do our audience need to hear and see?  Or, put another way, if I have an actress who would be the perfect Molly Brown, does that mean I must mount The Unsinkable Molly Brown next year?  If I have two young actors available to play Romeo and Juliet, should this necessitate the mounting of yet another production of Romeo and Juliet?

All too often we see producing organizations rolling out production after production -- often of good quality -- but with what regard to the audience or the theatre's community?  Using the above examples, does my audience need to see and hear Molly Brown's story now?  What will our theatre say about the life of our community with a production of Romeo and Juliet now?  How will either play cohere with the rest of our plays to help build our community -- not just the lucky people who happen to come to the play, but the community at large?  What does the season say about us and what we believe in as humans and as artists?

Several years ago the author worked in a summer festival in which the season included: King Lear, The Comedy or Errors, The Unsinkable Molly Brown,The Murder at the Howard Johnsons, and a children's theatre production of Disney's Jungle Book.  The shows were well conceived, well produced, and well received.  Were they what that community needed to hear at that time and place?  What message does that collection of plays (each worthy on their own) communicate?

This question may seem a trifle abstract to the lone actor. Nevertheless a common question of the seasoned professional is this, "How do you select which projects to work on?"  A sound, common answer usually includes formulation along these lines, "There are three questions in no particular order: 1) Does the project further my career? 2) Does the project make me money? and 3) Is the project artistically satisfying?  If the answer is 'yes' to two out of three, it's worth doing."

Again, even for the lone actor, there should be another level of question to ask.  "What do I want to tell an audience about myself through the characters I play?"  That may seem like a variant on asking whether or not a project is artistically fulfilling.  Instead, though, I think it's a different question. It's a question that goes to the heart of the social responsibility of the actor beyond any individual concerns.

Most, if not all, of us likely do what we do because it's fun. We act because it's fun.  We direct and design because it's fun.  We put on shows because shows are fun to do. And we put on shows that are fun and interesting to us.

But why put on the show?  If we put on the show simply because it's fun to do, then it may be that the audience will simply be people who enjoy people having fun.  If we have a story to tell the community that the community needs to hear and see now, then we have something which may attract a wider audience from our community.

One saw some consideration along these lines after the events of last September.  As we drift further in the long, murky twilight battle, one hears more discussion of doing this or that play because it'd be "fun" to do -- or -- "We can cast it."

If you're on the treadmill of churning out show after show because shows are fun to do, stop the churning and think about what stories need to be in your community now.  It's like ice cream.  Ice cream is fun, but we need more.

©2002 Nathan Thomas

Nathan Thomas has earned his living as a touring actor, Artistic Director, director stage manager, designer, composer, and pianist He has a Ph.D. in Theatre and is a member of the theatre faculty of Centenary College click here for other Commentary by Nathan Thomas

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