Farce, Part 3: Moon Over Buffalo

The greatest theatrical experience I've ever had, apart from those as a playwright, is undoubtedly when I had the chance to direct Moon Over Buffalo by Ken Ludwig. I had wanted to direct it from the very moment I first read the script and I thankfully did not have to wait long to get that opportunity.

The year was 2003 and I was a board member at Lakeshore Players in White Bear Lake, Minnesota. Despite being on the board, landing a directing position was not a sure thing, so I did my homework and came to the interview prepared. I wrote out a complete vision for the show, complete with scenic design sketches and blocking sheets for key scenes. I got the job, but I'm sure it had less to do with my preparation than it did my enthusiasm for the play.

Have I mentioned that I love Moon Over Buffalo? Well, I do. When it opened on Broadway, it was criticized for having a somewhat creaky script, yet it ran for a healthy nine months and has since become enormously popular with regional, community, and high school theaters. It's a beautifully constructed farce with delicious characters and hilarious situations. In my mind, that makes it a huge success. So there!

I strongly believe that 90% of good directing is good casting. If I can match the right actor with the right character, then I can step aside and let them find their own way through the material. After all, I'm not the one who will be standing up in front of hundreds of people. But it doesn't end there. A good director also needs to match the right actors with the right actors. This is something I believe I'm particularly good at, and one of my favorite parts of the process. To create a community from scratch and have the opportunity to watch it develop is what I believe the theater is all about.

When given the choice between the best actor and the best person, I always choose the best person. I firmly believe this leads to a happier creative atmosphere; one where the actors are able to work in a safe environment, free from competition, which enables them to develop a genuine chemistry that cannot be faked. I can work with someone not perfect for their particular role, so long as they are able to work with me. Thankfully, I did not have to make such concessions on Moon Over Buffalo. The best actors were also the best people, and the memories of our rehearsals together are among the fondest I have.

The greatest cast and crew ever assembled. Moon Over Buffalo, Lakeshore Players, 2003.

After sitting at the keyboard for what seems like an eternity, I realize that I do not have the proper words to express what my cast and crew of Moon Over Buffalo meant to me then, nor what they continue to mean to me today. But I can say that our little group of 12 put on one hell of a good show. While the play may have been farce, our brief time together was far from it. So while I cannot generate the words, nor share any proof other than my word, nor find an audience member who saw anything more than what made it to the stage, I know in my heart that the experience was something special. "Magic" is about the best word I can think of to describe it.

Come to think of it, this inability to put my feelings into words is exactly why I'm so enamored with the theater. Theater exists only in the present, evaporating the very moment it's over. Sure, the memory of a great performance might stay with a person forever, but the actual moment -- the magic -- lasts but a second. And it's the hunt for that moment, that second, that magic, that makes me smile, makes me laugh, makes me happy.

That's farce. That's theater. That's life.