It's Not Always Nice, But One Must Take It

There has been a struggle with my play. Getting audience. Getting press. However, when there is audience and the actors are feeling calm and confident, the magic is there. Sometimes, it all gets a little less magical, what with there being no audience. I wish I didn’t give a flying load. But I do.

For World Premiere reviews, most of the attention is on the writing. Which is sort of an awful position to be in if you are the writer. The reviews, in general, are often forgiving to the actors and the director. Hell, it’s a new piece and if they come off at all okay, then all goes well for them. The thing under scrutiny, truly, is the play. And sometimes it slides in a positive way toward the writer, sometimes not. This is how it should be. And if you put your big wordy ass out there, you have to take your lumps.

Today, I saw a preview of the LA Weekly review and at its best it states this:

Using the same tart wit he displayed in his one-man play, American Air, Cummings subtly sets the artists’ self-absorbed creativity against their neighbors’ artless bluster and destructiveness — all with a sorrowful Chekhovian languor.

The very next sentence:

Unfortunately, the play is at least half an hour too long with three endings.

The rest of the review flatly retells the general story points of the play. Which is never a good thing. And the underlying tone of disapproval is palpable throughout. True, Steven Leigh Morris saw the play on a night with just a handful of people in the audience. (My publicist had a one hour warning that a reviewer was coming) And the play was quite pokey that night. But the actors did do their best under the sepulchral circumstances. And the audience just kind of didn’t care. There it is. 99 Seat theatre at its least affirming. Getting a snarky review is always disappointing.

I did get quite a glowing review in IN LA. Which was affirming, though less distributed:

The Highest compliment one might pay to Don Cummings’ alternately hilarious and heartrending new play, The Fat of the Land, is that it has its Chekovian moments....His modern day play is driven by witty, ultra-contemporary banter...With some judicious tinkering, Cummings’ gripping seriocomedy could have an illustrious future.

Again, these world premiere reviews really go at the writer.

One cannot live and die by the press. It’s too schizophrenic and masocistic. But one does anyway. It’s a professional communication that takes place. And though it is harsh, it is necessary.

The only thing to do in these cases is to have date night.

Adam and I went to the movies. We saw The Queen. Helen Mirren was outrageously good. The story was so delicate and so ambivalent and so well told, you have to wonder if the masses will go see it. Truly, a lovely movie. Helen Mirren is Oscar bound. Surely.

Now, I go back to The second half of the run of The Fat of the Land. Audiences do seem to get a lot out of it. I did get an important agency that loved it. I did set out to write a big, long play with lots of stuff in it. One takes a chance. And I stand beside my choice.

I have decided to keep looking forward. Always forward. To dust oneself off after the bumpy ride is essential. And to get back in the seat. And to proceed. Joyfully. This was made in joy. I am grateful that it is out there. I will continue with joy.
And I am learning. Because that's how it works.