Updated: WOW! What a week! My thoughts on what went down in the theater community, the cancellation of The Wilde Awards, and what should happen next

Corrected Aug. 1, 2019 at 9:36 p.m. See note at bottom for details.

I’ve been asked by several people for my thoughts regarding the brutal controversy that erupted earlier this week that is still simmering throughout much of Southeast Michigan’s professional theater community. For the most part, I’ve stayed out of it – despite my name being tossed into the discussion a couple of times – and I’ve offered no public comments. (I did, however, “like” many comments on Facebook, in part to keep abreast of the ever-expanding and increasingly nasty threads.)

But with the news yesterday that The Wilde Awards show has been canceled this year – and with continuing inquiries regarding my thoughts on this latest wrinkle to the story – I decided to prepare this statement, which will be my only public statement on this entire affair. (For those of you who may not know this, I co-created the awards back in 2002.)

However, please keep this in mind as you work your way through what will be a significant chunk of your time (if you decide to stick with me till the end, that is): Because I know most everyone involved in this matter one way or another, some of whom for nearly two decades, my objective is not to assign blame or choose sides; there’s enough of that going around. Rather, it’s to offer a broader perspective than what I’ve seen all over that evil Facebook – and to be as honest about it as I can without naming names, directly pointing fingers at specific individuals, or violating confidences.

Finally, before we get to the nitty gritty, I want to be clear about something: Agree with me or not, I don’t care; my words and thoughts are not up for debate. I own them, plain and simple. But they’re based on first-hand knowledge from numerous discussions I’ve had over the past few years with various people involved on both sides of the argument.

Take a deep breath. Now dive in!

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Since my official retirement from Between The Lines and EncoreMichigan.com in late 2014 – yes, I know, I was resurrected a couple of times since then, but stick with me here – I’ve been slowly pulling myself away from the theater community. Yes, I still see some shows (but not nearly as many as I did last year, for example) and I share my mostly brief thoughts about them on Facebook or on this blog as a way of helping theaters get some sorely lacking publicity. But unless I have an occasional lunch with an industry insider, chat with folks after a show or open an unexpected email, I’m pretty disengaged from day-to-day industry news.

What this means, then, is that I’ve paid little attention to The Wilde Awards since I last hosted the affair in 2016 and served as head wrangler in determining the nominations and winners the following year. And as deference to the new team taking over as producers and hosts, I declined all requests to attend the ceremony after my departure as host.

So while I spent 15 years nurturing the event (which was probably one or two years too many, in my honest appraisal), I’m of two thoughts on the matter of its cancellation.

The first is this: Once the awards were turned over to other caretakers, my emotional attachment to the event dissipated over time. It was now for others to guide, to grow, to change, or do with as they pleased. My only hope was they took it as seriously as I did and treated it just as well. In that regard, I was no different from a teacher whose students moved to the next level or a business owner who sold their pride and joy to another: I have fond memories of it, wish it well, but I moved on with no regrets.

Except for one. And here’s my other thought.

While The Wilde Awards were created to honor the best work produced by Michigan’s professional theaters, Jan Stevenson, Susan Horowitz and I had a second, equally important goal when we created the event – and that was to offer the professional theater community a night shared with the LGBT community in which rivalries could be put aside, old friendships could be re-established, new relationships could be forged and a fun time could be had by all. And to set the tone, my co-host its first two years was an up-and-coming young drag performer who wowed the audience (while at the same time re-establishing relationships with Detroit’s Mosaic Youth Theatre, which provided our mid-show entertainment).

While I was always fully aware that some people within the theater community didn’t take the awards seriously and couldn’t have cared less what I thought or what my fellow critics thought of their work, that didn’t matter. Our goal was to produce One Wilde Night for the community, and for the most part, I believe we succeeded more often than not, and sometimes we even surpassed it.

That became even more important as other media-related awards and awards shows bit the dust. We were the last awards standing for Metro Detroit thespians.

Now, with the cancellation of this year’s ceremony, yet another sad chapter in the history of our industry has ended. And that’s a damn shame.

And the cause? If you believe some of what I’ve read on Facebook and heard through other means, this week’s brouhaha was the result of nothing more than (in my very humble opinion, a poor excuse of) a review (that never should have seen the light of day). As an editor, I would never have allowed it to run as published.

But that’s not the reason for all the turmoil.

And for the record, there’s no innocent victim here, either.

Rather, the review was the spark that ignited a long-simmering reaction by a members of the community that for the past couple of years has felt disrespected by the words and actions of the critic.

So – let me emphasize this point for the skimmers out there – it was never about the review. There was no single event that led to the launching of the bomb that followed; it was simply the culmination of several events over a period of time – and the artists involved decided they’d had enough. If you want to know the details, ask participants on both sides; you won’t find them here.

To be honest, I found some of the initial reactions and responses to the review to be quite creative. They were cryptic and fun and they tried to make delicious lemonade out of the published lemon. (In fact, many who responded to the posts hadn’t a clue what precipitated them, as names were never mentioned nor was the review or where it was published.)

But as usually the case in such situations, reactions became overreactions and tempers flared.

Then, once the open letter appeared, others with grudges piled on and the discussion got downright nasty. Equally predictably, misunderstandings occurred and things were said that shouldn’t have been. And a downright despicable text message was sent.

However, as I mentioned above, there are no innocents here: Defending yourself while calling the production reviewed a “shite musical” doesn’t do much to heal wounds, solve problems or move those trying to remain neutral to your side. Nor do snarky replies made from all sides of the debate.

Quite frankly, the result was a cluster fuck of a magnitude I haven’t seen in a long while. And unfortunately in situations like this, people chose sides without knowing all the details, which further added to the destruction.

So now that the damage is done and the carnage is being picked over by all sides of the debate, what happens now?

How about this, for starters; the rest is up to the industry:

#1: After a short cooling down period, how about both sides sit down and have an open, honest and emotion-free discussion to resolve their issues and disagreements. It won’t be easy or comfortable – and only two or maybe three representatives at most from the aggrieved theaters should participate. But there are real and important matters that need to be resolved, and the quicker this happens, the better.

#2: And how about anyone else with a valid concern do likewise? If one side is open to talk, the other must step up to the plate or shut the fuck up. And maybe if everyone approaches this like intelligent adults, everyone can move on and create great theater (and theater criticism) together!

#3: Personally, I love the idea discussed in multiple threads on Facebook about a pot-luck event for the community. However, in my now-45 years working in, consulting for and professionally observing Southeast Michigan’s professional theater community, I can honestly say it’s always been a fractious and fractured one – and this incident only serves to reinforce my view. So what I hope is this; take it for what it’s worth or ignore it, I’m fine either way:

(A) That a pot luck does take place, and it’s open to the entire industry, not to just a select few. Companies large and small, Equity and non-Equity alike should be invited, from all over the Metro Detroit-Lansing-Jackson-Ann Arbor corridor. It should be held in a central location that’s easy (relatively speaking, of course) for everyone to get to. And for heaven’s sake, include the improv community! Make this as diverse a party as you possibly can!

(B) If the pot luck does happen, anyone who reviews shows or is in the media should stay the hell away. Let this be a time where industry members can let down their collective hair without us vultures nosing around. The wall between us should be a tall and thick as reasonably possible.

(C) Don’t wait too long to have it. Based on personal experience, the end of August is the latest it should occur, as once the theater season gets underway, it becomes nearly impossible to get a large group of thespians together to do anything but stage a play. And, as one person noted on a Facebook thread earlier today, there IS a certain date that industry folk now have open! So get busy!

(D) And finally, have fun at the party! Forget all the shit that transpired this week, put rivalries aside, re-establish old friendships, forge new ones, party like there’s no tomorrow – and then go out and create a new season of innovative and exciting theater, no matter if there’s an award next year with your name on it or not.

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CORRECTION: When my post initially appeared, it included a sentence about a special 2017 Wilde Award I won and how I had never received the plaque. (I didn’t attend the ceremony.) I made light of it by admitting to the fact I still had in my possession a plaque for a winner the previous year, noting it was a long story why. Well, guess what I found? The award – placed two years ago in a box full of materials I prepared for that year’s critics meeting. (The award was given to me following lunch a short time after the ceremony.) To avoid tripping over the box, I placed it in my office closet with the intention of going through it “in a day or two” to decide what to keep and what to toss. You can probably assume what happened: Other stuff got piled on top of it, and it was never given another thought. Until this evening when questioned about it. So, yes, it’s probably a good thing I’m not reviewing anymore! In all seriousness, I sincerely apologize to everyone involved – participants and readers alike - for this regrettable error. Now I’ll go hang the plaque.

Some thoughts about: 'The Merry Wives of Miami' at Slipstream

Over my two decades of life as a theater critic, I’ve seen directors take all sorts of liberties with the works of William Shakespeare. While some were quite creative and entertaining, others caused me to question the sanity of the artists involved in such a debacle.

So when I received promotional material recently from Ferndale’s Slipstream Theatre Initiative promoting its next show, it did what any good PR piece should do: It successfully lured me into securing tickets for this past Saturday evening’s performance of “The Merry Wives of Miami.” So, yes, I’m apparently a sucker for punishment, as the show’s concept disguises The Bard’s popular comedy “The Merry Wives of Windsor” as an episode of TV’s “The Golden Girls.”

It has the potential for disaster written all over it, doesn’t it?

But based on past experience with Slipstream, I went in with an open mind. After all, artistic director Bailey Boudreau and his creative cohorts have had much success with other such oddball concepts.

This pairing, though, truly intrigued me, since it’s one that seems far more logical than other Shakespearean experiments I’ve endured over the years.

For starters, “Merry Wives” is The Bard’s only play set entirely in England, in the middle-class town of Windsor. It features two wives, Margaret Page and Alice Ford, who have great fun putting their husbands in their place at the expense of the boastful Sir John Falstaff (previously seen in the “Henry IV-V" dramas), who’s come to town and plans to woo the above-named women.

Can’t you see Dorothy, Blanche, Rose and Sophia, sitting in their Miami kitchen eating cheesecake, gleefully scheming to make a fool out of Stan and one of his hair-brained schemes just like director Bailey did? As any “Golden Girls” aficionado knows, this award-winning sitcom ran for seven seasons on NBC beginning in 1985. Therefore, Bailey and his co-conspirators present their tale as the opening episode of the imaginary eighth season. So then the question: How successful was the Slipstream team in smooshing one well-known comedy into the other?

It may not be perfect, but it sure is fun!

For starters, other than the opening scene that sets the stage for the audience – you can almost imagine Sophia saying, “Picture it: Miami. 1992” – the adaptation is primarily the unadulterated words of William Shakespeare. His script is pared down to a 70-minute running time that focuses on the comedy’s main plot. The resulting story makes sense; if you’ve never seen the original, you won’t be lost for lack of what’s been cut.

Costuming by Tiaja Sabrie was spot-on perfect, which immediately pulled me into the world of “The Golden Girls.” And whether or not their costumes and wigs inspired them, I don’t know, but Luna Alexander, Jan Cartwright, Linda Rabin Hammell and Mandy Logsdon surely looked their parts (Blanche, Dorothy, Sofia and Rose, respectively) and carried themselves accordingly. Hammell had great fun channeling Estelle Getty’s Sophia. Especially on target, though, was Alexander, who perfectly captured not only Blanche’s body language, but also her unique vocal characteristics, both of which flowed quite naturally throughout the evening. (That last part wasn’t as easy for the other actresses, though, as the voices of their counterparts are not nearly as distinctive, nor is The Bard’s dialogue always easily manipulated in order to match the Girls’ personal rhythms.)

Of the men, Patrick O’Lear’s Falstaff was immediately recognizable as badly toupee'd Stan, Dorothy’s ex-husband. And Ryan Ernst as the jealous Master Ford played his role with the same glee and expertise as I’ve come to expect from him.

Where the show stumbled, however, was with the performances of some of the younger, less experienced performers. For example, if a foreign accent is to be used, every word spoken must be clearly and concisely enunciated and delivered at a speed at which it can be understood. (This is true even when speaking typical American dialects, but doubly so when not.) As such, talking too fast AND indistinctly renders the dialogue nearly if not totally incomprehensible. Conversely, talking too slow can cause the show’s pacing to come crashing down. And finally, it helps to have all your lines memorized. All of this was such a problem that my guest – and he’ll kill me for publicly saying this – actually made the decision to take a nap during the show rather than to continue struggling to follow the plot, which had eluded him up to that point. Yes, Shakespeare can be difficult sometimes for our ears and brains to absorb, but thespians don’t need to complicate things and make it worse.

(As an aside, a running gag that I suspect goes over the heads of many a patron actually earned a semi-loud groan/laugh from me. Hammell’s character [Mistress Quickly] forgets a line, so she consults the script, which she kinda/sorta hides and carries with her. In real life, Getty had trouble remembering her lines, and so cue cards were strategically placed for her, and she’d write her lines on various props she’d use. Unfortunately, Getty died in 2002 from Lewy body dementia, an Alzheimer-like disease that may have started during her time on the show. So is this simply an in-joke, a nod to the reality of Getty’s experience on “The Golden Girls,” or just an innocent bit to have some fun with? Or is it not in good taste? As someone who has observed the realities of dementia first hand, I can’t decide on which side of the positive/negative divide this otherwise funny bit falls.)

Music from the TV series used to move the audience in to and out of scenes added to the overall concept.

The Bottom Line: While it’s certainly not one of Slipstream’s best productions, “The Merry Wives of Miami” – with some much-needed clean up and polish – has the potential to become a very entertaining night out at the theater.

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"The Merry Wives of Miami" runs through Aug. 4. For complete show details, CLICK HERE!

Photo credits: Jan Cartwright Photography

Top: Jan Cartwright, Mandy Logsdon, Luna Alexander
Bottom: Linda Rabin Hammell