BULLSHOT CRUMMOND: a history of the play, and a brief history of parody

Note: This essay first appeared in the program for Lakewood Theater's Production of Bullshot Crummond

BACKSTORY WITH BOBBY KENISTON 

In 1974, Ronald House and Diz White were in a fringe comedy troupe called The Low Moans

when they first developed the initial concept for Bullshot Crummond, tonight's entertainment.

The idea was fleshed out with fellow troupe members Alan Shearman, John Neville-Andrews,

and Derek Cunningham, and had its first production in San Francisco at the Palladium Theater

the very year it was written.

The play, as you will soon witness for yourselves, falls into a very particular style of comedy we

like to call parody. Specifically, Bullshot Crummond, the name and the play, is a send-up of the

character Bulldog Drummond, who was created by author H.C. McNeile in a 1920 novel named

after the hero. Bulldog was a World War I veteran who had trouble going back to the boredom of

a humdrum civilian life. He decided to place advertisements, looking for excitement, until, lo and

behold, he transformed from listless veteran into a world class adventurer! And there were

plenty of adventures to be had--- McNeile wrote ten more novels, four short stories and four

stage plays about them!

Certainly there are elements (including his name) that made Bulldog Drummond a perfect target

for the parody provided by The Low Moans' performers. While researching this play and the

source material it spoofs, I began to wonder just how long parody has been around, and where

it all came from. It should have come as no surprise to learn that it has been around since

Ancient Greece at the very least. In his Poetics, Aristotle mentions Hegemon of Thasos as the

inventor of parody. Hegemon would slightly alter the wording of well-known poems, and thus

“transformed the sublime into the ridiculous.” There were other narrative poems in Ancient

Greek literature known as a “parodia”, which took the ideas of epics, but treated them in a light,

satirical manner with mock-heroic subjects, like The Diliad (sadly, a lost parody of the Iliad,

mentioned by Aristotle) by Nicochares. Aristotle, always a bit self-serious, wasn't much of a fan,

saying that Homer made men better than they were, while these writers of parody made men

worse.

Perhaps Aristotle was missing the point, or simply didn't know how to take a joke. Parody

continued to thrive. It was first mentioned in English in 1598's “Every Man in His Humor” by Ben

Jonson, and Shakespeare, of course, used parody quite freely, notably in A Midsummer Night's

Dream with a group of rustics making a clown show from Pyramus and Thisbe, complete with a

talking Wall (something our former President would no doubt love) and Lion.

Nowadays, it is not uncommon for the parody itself to outlive its source material, which may be

the case for Bullshot Crummond, a play still widely produced and a well-known crowd pleaser

(trust me, you'll see in just a few minutes). It is reported that when Mel Brooks, a master in the

art of parody, saw the play, he was so impressed by its zaniness and humor that he said it

couldn't ever possibly be filmed. And while Mr. Brooks has been right about so many things in

his 95 years, he was wrong about this. Perhaps inspired by the success of other parody films

like Airplane!, a movie adaptation simply called Bullshot was released in the UK in 1983, with

three of the Low Moans reprising their stage roles, and several cameos from famous British

comedians. The film was produced by George Harrison's production company, Handmade

Films, as the former Beatle was known to love a good laugh.

And a good laugh is what we have in store for you, dear audience, as our very own lively troupe

of performers wait in the wings for the curtain to rise on Lakewood Theater's production of

Bullshot Crummond,

 If you are interested in learning more about the play or producing it, you can check it out at Concord Theatricals by following this link: https://www.concordtheatricals.com/p/5604/bullshot-crummond

AN APPRECIATION OF LITTLE SHOP OF HORRORS (THE MUSICAL): an anaylsis from a playwriting perspective, Part 2

Yours Truly as Seymour Krelborn, and Cary Libby as Orin Scrivello, the Dentist, in a production of "Little Shop of Horrors" I directed and starred in for the Center Theatre in Dover-Foxcroft

Greetings, everybody, and welcome to Theater is a Sport.  Today is Part 2 of my analysis of one of my favorite musicals, Little Shop of Horrors, from a playwriting perspective.  If you haven't read Part 1, feel free to CLICK HERE to read it. 

Please remember, in this in analysis of Little Shop of Horrors (with book and lyrics by Howard Ashman and music by Alan Menken), there will be "spoilers", so, if you're not familiar with the musical, and don't want it ruined for you, don't read any further. 

In yesterday's post, I talked about how LSOH was a nice modern example of Aristotle's rules for Tragedy, despite being a dark musical comedy.  I also talked about the rising action up through the end of Act I, where Seymour is feeding Orin Scrivello, the Dentist, to Audrey II, the hungry plant. 

Some might argue this is the major turning point in the play, or the climax, and that Act 2 is all falling action, catharsis and denouement (or, what would be Acts IV and V of a Tragedy).  I do not hold to this argument, and, most people I talk to agree with me.

You see, at this point, Seymour may literally have blood on his hands after feeding the dentist to his talking devil plant, but he didn't kill him.  He couldn't.  He wanted to, but his moral center is so strong, that he could not do it.  No matter how wicked and awful the dentist was as a human being, Seymour couldn't kill him.  Granted, Seymour could have done something to save Orin's life when he was in the midst of gassing himself to death, but, inactivity is not the same thing as murder. 

Act II begins with another thriving day of business at Skid Row's Florist, home of the ever-growing Audrey II.  After a frenzied bout of phone answering, Audrey and Seymour talk.  Audrey is racked with guilt over Orin's disappearance because deep inside, she wished for him to die.  Seymour comforts her, and they perform perhaps the most famous song in the show, "Suddenly Seymour", and effectively acknowledge their love for one another, and their intentions to spend their future together.  It is a beautiful moment, interrupted by Mr. Mushnik, who is acting very strange.  Once Audrey says goodnight, Mushnik informs Seymour of some evidence he has found linking his adopted son with Orin's disappearance.  At this point, Audrey II, unheard by Mushnik, lures Seymour into feeding him once more in the song "Suppertime".  Mushnik tells Seymour that he won't call the police if Seymour disappears.  Seymour, feeling trapped, especially now that he has the girl of his dreams, tells Mushnik that the day's cash deposit is inside of Audrey II.  Sure enough, Mushnik goes to get it and is eaten. 

It is at this point where I think the climax occurs.  Again, Seymour doesn't literally kill, but he must take responsibility for Mushnik's demise--- this is not a case of inactivity, but actually causing the death to happen.  And from this point, everything changes. 

In my opinion, the following number, called "The Meek Shall Inherit", is Act IV of a Tragedy in one long song.  Seymour is faced with all of these opportunities--- to be on the cover of life magazine, go on lecturing tours, have his own weekly TV show--- all of them presented to him by the actor who played Orin in Act I (although in the production I directed, only one of them was played by that same actor, so I could involve more people in the production).  These people, waving the contracts, are Seymour's Furies in a sense, leading him to his downfall.  You see, Seymour has a moment of conscience in the song, where he realizes that taking these offers would mean more killing, and he tells himself he can't do it.  But he changes his mind, because he's afraid Audrey won't love him anymore if he goes back to being poor and a nobody. 

So in this sense, Seymour, as a tragic flaw, has self-doubt and low self-confidence. 

Seymour signs the contracts with the Ronnettes, our street urchin Greek Chorus, egging him on. 

In the next scene, we see Seymour, almost mad with guilt and remorse, refusing to feed an angry Audrey II.  After Audrey comes to check on him, and assures him that she would still like him ("I'd still love you", she says) if he was poor, Seymour decides that after they pay him for the photo for the Life Magazine cover, he will take Audrey away from Skid Row, and buy her that house she always dreamed of.

Unfortunately, Audrey II is to smart for that.  After Seymour steps out to get Audrey II some ground beef from the butcher's, Audrey, who couldn't sleep comes back to the shop.  The plant lures Audrey, and Audrey is almost eaten.  Seymour rushes in, pulls her from the plant, but it is too late. 

Which leads us to "The Death of Audrey", a song, in my opinion, is the most poignant catharsis in musical theatre history.  Audrey implores Seymour to feed her to the plant, so that it will grow big and strong, and give him all the wonderful things he deserves.  And, if she's in the plant, she's part of the plant, so they will always be together, and she will, at last, be somewhere that's green. 

Just thinking of this scene brings tears to my eyes.  It is so sweet and intimate, so innocent yet sad. 

And here is where Seymour differs from Faust.  Seymour never cared about the money or the fame he was getting--- sure, he enjoyed it to some extent--- but all he wanted Audrey.  And when she is gone, there is nothing left for him.

In the final scene, a man named Skip Snip arrives, with a business proposal for Seymour, who is truly insane with grief.  Mr. Snip wants to take little cuttings of Audrey II, and develop little plants to be sold to every home in America.  It will be bigger than the hula hoop.  Seymour, realizing this has been Audrey  II's plan all along, world domination, climbs inside the plant with a machete, intent on destroying it from the inside--- although, maybe, to some extent, Seymour knows he is crawling into his own death... after all, what does he have left to live for?

In any case, Skip returns with the Ronnettes, and they begin to take their cuttings.  The Ronnettes tell us how Audrey II's plans have come to life all across America, and, in the final number, the cast warns the audience, "Don't Feed the Plant".    In this number, we see how Orin, Mushnik, Audrey and Seymour have all become part of Audrey II. 

What I find different about Seymour as a tragic hero as opposed to many classical ones, is that he really is somewhat passive in his downfall for the most part, and that every decision he makes is because he wants to impress the woman he loves.  He is so easily led and bamboozled.  He does not sell his soul to the devil consciously as Faust does.  He's a fella who gets in over his head.  Which means, when he loses everything, and goes to his death, in my mind, it makes the denouement all that much more effective. 

In any case, if you agree with my analysis that Little Shop of Horrors is a prime example of Aristotle's rules for Tragedy, feel free to comment below.  Feel free to comment even if you don't agree.  And if you have any questions, feel free to e-mail me at theater.is.a.sport@gmail.com

Thanks for checking out this post.  I love talking Little Shop.  I love it. 

Until next time, please remember--- Don't feed the plant, and theater is a sport.

AN APPRECIATION OF LITTLE SHOP OF HORRORS (THE MUSICAL): An analysis from a playwriting perspective, Part I

Cast of "Little Shop of Horrors" at the Center Theatre.  Perhaps my proudest moment as director and actor.

I'm not ashamed to admit that I admire a great number of musicals, but, the one I have the most special place for in my heart is Little Shop of Horrors, a musical with a book and lyrics by Howard Ashman and music by Alan Menken.  Ashman and Menken would also collaborate on a musical version of Kurt Vonngegut's God Bless You, Mr. Rosewater, and perhaps become most famous for their work on such Disney films as The Little Mermaid, Beauty and the Beast, and Aladdin.  Sadly, Mr. Ashman is no longer with us, but his work with Little Shop continues to live on through countless community theatre and school productions every year.  A few years back, it had its Broadway debut (it originally was an Off-Broadway smash, and Ashman was happy to keep it as an Off-Broadway show in his lifetime), and, of course, their is the movie version starring Rick Moranis, Ellen Greene, and Steve Martin, which has achieved a cult status.

Of course, Little Shop of Horrors the musical was based on a cheesy 1960 B-movie of the same name, directed by B-movie master Roger Corman, and featuring a young, unknown actor named Jack Nicholson in the role of a masochist who tastes of the sadistic dentist's talents. 

The story is basically a Faustian one:  poor insignificant fellow (in this case, Seymour, an employee of a flower shop on Skid Row) meets a shady character (in this case, a giant Venus Flytrap-like plant called Audrey Two) who starts to make all of his dreams come true--- success, love with his Helen of Troy (in this case, a sad and abused fellow flower shop employee named Audrey), and plenty of money.  Unfortunately, all of this comes as a price, and our poor hero loses everything because of the blood on his hands. 

All this in a musical comedy.

I was fortunate enough to direct and star in a production of this musical a few years back, and I can safely say it is the work I am most proud of as a director (and, perhaps, even as an actor--- forget perhaps, it definitely is).  I was lucky to have a wonderful and hard-working cast, fun and interesting puppets, and just great stage chemistry all around.  Perhaps one day, I will write a blog post about this wonderful experience, but tonight, I'm going to talk about Little Shop of Horrors from a playwriting perspective.

Howard Ashman presents Little Shop of Horrors as a musical comedy (albeit, a dark one), but, at the same time, he adheres to Aristotle's theories of tragedy.  In fact, this musical is a perfect, entertaining lesson of Aristotle's thoughts on rising action, climax, catharsis, as well as his notes on a tragic hero.  (I am discussing the stage version of the musical, not the movie, which changed the stage ending for a more upbeat one). 

The very first thing we hear in the stage production is an announcer's voice introducing us to the world of the show.  A prologue, if you will.  Next, we meet the Ronnettes, three young ladies on Skid Row, who serve as the musical Greek Chorus of the show.  Oh, what wonderful imagery in the very song, even!  What clever lyrics!  Do a 1950s sounding number, we have lyrics such as "Shang a lang, feel the sturm and drang in the air"... such a brilliant way to set up the dual aesthetics of the show!

I don't want to ruin the show for anyone, so if you are not familiar with it, please stop reading this post, as it is almost impossible to analyze it without giving away any major plot points.

We learn quickly that our tragic hero, Seymour Krelborn, is a bit of a nerdy putz, working at Skid Row florists (a dying business) for the formidable Mr. Mushnik, who took Seymour in when he was just a kid.  Seymour nurses a crush on the sweet, but terribly abused Audrey, who often shows up to work with black eyes or a cast on her arm. 

Seymour discovered a strange new kind of Flytrap after a total eclipse of the sun, which he has named Audrey II, in tribute of the woman he's in love with.  After showing it to Mushnik at Audrey's insistence, and displaying it in the shop window, business takes off.  Unfortunately, the only way for Seymour to keep Audrey II healthy is to feed it his own blood.  Suddenly, Skid Row Florists is a huge success, and Seymour is becoming a bit of a celebrity.  The shop is renovated, Mushnik is happy, but, alas, Audrey is still with her abusive boyfriend, Orin Scrivello, a sadistic, nitric oxide huffing dentist.  Yikes!

Of course, what Seymour doesn't know, is that Audrey reciprocates the crush, and dreams of living in a sweet matchbox home with the "sweet little guy". 

After being adopted by Mushnik (as Mushnik is afraid Seymour might leave the shop with Audrey II, thereby ruining his new thriving business), Seymour discovers that Audrey II can talk.  And it is HUNGRY.  Too hungry for Seymour to feed with his own bandaged fingers anymore.  Audrey II suggests that if Seymour kills someone so it can feed, Seymour will get everything he desires... even that "one particular girl", Audrey.  Seymour is horrified at the thought of killing anyone, saying that no one deserves to die and be chopped up and fed to a plant.  However, Seymour changes his mind after witnessing Orin hurting Audrey, and he decides to kill Orin.

Unfortunately, Seymour can't do it.  He goes to Orin's practice with every intention of shooting him, but his conscience won't let him.  Fortunately, he doesn't have to.  Orin overdoses on nitric oxide, and dies.  Act I closes with Seymour feeding his chopped up body to Audrey II. 

All up to this point is a brilliant example of rising action.  Unlike many musicals, Ashman's lyrics always advance the plot or advance character development.  Nothing seems wasted.  And the songs are so clever, seamlessly weaving character development and exposition, as well as forward-moving action all into one. 

One could do worse in learning to set up a play in classic Aristotle Tragedy form than studying the first act of Little Shop of Horrors.

In my next post, I will discuss Act II of my favorite musical, and how Ashman follows the rules of climax, falling action, catharsis, and denouement. 

UPDATE:  To read Part 2, CLICK HERE

Until then, thanks for reading, and remember:  Musicals are pretty awesome, and theater is a sport!

As always, if you have any thoughts or comments, feel free to comment below, or e-mail me at theater.is.a.sport@gmail.com

HOW TO BE A PLAYWRIGHT or HOW TO ENJOY REPEATEDLY BANGING YOUR HEAD AGAINST THE WALL

Hello everyone, and welcome to Theater is a Sport.  I'm excited today, because it's Tuesday, and Tuesdays are going to be the days where I talk about one of my favorite subjects:  playwriting.  I hope the title of this blog post does not deter any potential playwrights--- trust me, banging your head against the wall can be very rewarding, especially if you have a finished play to show for it.  Perhaps the greatest perk of writing plays for me, is when I am in the middle of writing, everything else goes away (just like practicing music for Natalie in Next To Normal).  This is a source of great peace, no matter how frustrating composition may become.  So, if you've got the discipline and the courage, I would like to welcome you to the odd and beautiful world of drawing the blueprint of a play, so that other artists may build the house which is known as a production.  Feel free to bring a helmet.

I would like say in earnest, before I begin, that I love playwriting, and love everything about it, the highs and the lows.  And while I can teach you all some simple tricks to help you along the way to avoid the many pitfalls, I cannot make anyone a great playwright.  I can assist you in avoiding some common mistakes, give you some exercises and reading material that may serve to build some skills, but being a "great" anything comes from within.  It is a matter of love and drive (and for some lucky few, genius).  Person A may write a really good rough draft of a script, while Person B writes an absolute stinker.   Person A, however, may settle for good enough, while Person B writes draft after draft, mounts workshop after workshop, and keeps fixing the PU script until, perhaps after years, it becomes a great script.  So, there you go.

All right class, I like to begin my playwriting classes by talking a little bit Aristotle and his Poetics, which is his guide to tragedy.  Aristotle had an opinion about everything, but there is a great deal of merit in how he discusses the structure of a play.    Here is a link to perhaps my favorite outline of Aristotle's theory on tragedy.  It helps cut through a great deal of dry reading.    http://www2.cnr.edu/home/bmcmanus/poetics.html

I'm going to apologize in advance for the inherent sexism of Aristotle's day and age.  Some of my favorite playwrights are women, including the nearly divine Paula Vogel and the breathtaking Suzan-Lori Parks. 

I have my own language when I describe the overall structure of a play to my high school students.  It begins as follows:

CATALYST:  This is what I call the beginning of a play.  Others may call it the "incentive moment", but I prefer catalyst.  It is the moment or moments that cause every other moment of the play to occur.  For example, in Tennessee Williams' play A Streetcar Named Desire, I might argue that the catalyst is Blanche moving in with her sister Stella, and her sister's husband Stanley.  This action allows every other action to happen.

After the catalyst, we have RISING ACTION, or what I call CHEMICAL REACTIONS, where we learn about the characters, how their wants fizz and bubble, we discover the protagonist and antagonist, and, most importantly, we learn the major CONFLICT of the show (more, heck, MUCH MORE on CONFLICT as this online tutorial continues).

So, as the characters and actions fizz, bubble, hiss and steam, and, in time, come to a boil, we have what's called the CLIMAX ( I could pretend I call it something more chemical sounding, like the BOILING POINT, but that would be a lie--- I mean, who doesn't like the word climax, after all).  People think of the Climax as the turning point, and event or action that alters the rest of the play.  Think Hamlet killing Polonius. Romeo killing Tybalt.  Corie and Paul's big fight near the end of Act II of Barefoot in the Park.

Important Note:  You may not know the plays I talk about.  That's okay.  One of the first assignments I'm going to give you is designed to help remedy this. 

Okay, so after the CLIMAX, we have FALLING ACTION which leads to the RESOLUTION, or, more appropriately, the DENOUMENT, where all the loose ends and subplots are tied up and, in a tragedy, everybody of importance dies, and, in a comedy, they live happily ever after.  Of course I'm being a bit over-simplistic here, but I think it's good to start with a generalized version of things before moving into the areas where black and white become a gazillion different shades of murky grey. 

This is a good deal to throw at you all at once without being able to stop and have you ask questions.  Don't worry.  Take from this what you can.  Digest what you can.  And, of course, if you have a question, I'll give you my e-mail at the end so you can ask it, or you can always drop a question in the comments. 

If you will allow me to turn on some headlights as we drive this road together, I'd like to offer some thoughts I find illuminating when first tackling the craft of playwriting:

1.  Characters have to WANT something.  Every character, always.  This is where CONFLICT, and, hence, DRAMA come from. 

2.  Most great plays are about an event.  George and Martha having guests in "Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf", Hamlet's mom gets married to his uncle and he sees the ghost of his father,  Aleksandr and Yelena visit Vanya and Sonya, throwing their quiet life into disarray... you get the idea.

3.  Point A leads to Point B, Point B leads to Point C, etc.  This may seem fairly obvious, but, trust me, it's not always. 

4.  Human beings are not perfect.  Characters shouldn't be either.  Audiences like characters with flaws.  It makes them relatable, human. 

5.  This is very important:  don't be afraid to get messy.  Playwriting is messy.  Allow yourself to make mistakes in the act of writing.  And don't stop when it gets hard.  It is much easier to fix a draft of something than recapture an idea you have completely deleted when the going got tough. 

This is a very rough overview of ideas that will be explored in greater detail as Tuesdays come and go.  Your assignment for next Tuesday is to take a look at the Aristotle link, but, beyond that, READ SOME PLAYS.  The best way to learn to write plays is to read plays and to watch plays.  Now, you may not have a chance to watch a play before our next class, but I still want you to do this for me:  if you watch a movie or a TV show, try to break it down from a structural standpoint (old reruns or "Law and Order", the original, are good for this:  crime is committed, detectives work to find the person, the lawyers try to convict, and either they do or do not.  Beginning, middle, end).  See what works.  See what TV shows or movies do this well (believe it or not, in TV and movies, they do refer to having and Act One and an Act Two, sometimes even an Act 3). 

If you want some suggestions for plays to read, drop me a line.  Better yet, think of the types of stories you would like to tell, and try to find plays of that genre.  At this point in your lives, reading should be enjoyable, so I don't necessarily want to dictate what plays you read, just so long as you read some plays.  Still, I'm happy to offer suggestions.

Next Tuesday, our class will be discussing monologues, and we will begin writing them.  How 'bout that?  Soon, you will be an honest-to-God playwright.  Aren't you excited? 

To go right to LESSON TWO, simply click HERE

Thanks for reading this installment of Theater is a Sport.  If you would like to drop me a line, please do so:  theater.is.a.sport@gmail.com.  If you want to learn more about me as a playwright, feel free to visit my facebook page https://www.facebook.com/pages/Bobby-Keniston-Playwright-Page/148232788536601

If you would like to become a fan of Theater is a Sport on facebook, do so here:  https://www.facebook.com/pages/Bobby-Keniston-Playwright-Page/148232788536601#!/TheaterIsASport

So, thanks again.  Tune in tomorrow when I'll be giving out some simple audition tips for community theater actors.  Until then, have a great time in your lives, and remember:  Theater is a sport.