Cranking 'Em Out

I've always admired those creative types that consistently turn out new work at a rapid rate. Folks like Woody Allen, Steven Soderbergh, Stephen King, Louis CK, Dave Sim. People like these—and several others—who produce new works in their respective field at least once or twice a year (or in Sim's case, once a month). Prolificacy is something I've always looked up to. Hell, even with creative types whose work I hate, I've still been impressed with their productivity.

Some of it's motivated by compulsion. No matter how many times he's announced his "retirement," King clearly just can't stop—or slow down—writing. Woody Allen has said in interviews he makes a movie every year because it takes his mind off his life and feels restless when on vacation for too long (he also comes from a background in television, where you don't have the luxury of waiting for inspiration to strike before creating—you have to produce content week in, week out, no matter what). Some of it's dictated by the rules of the field. Monthly comics, like television, have to produce on a fixed schedule. And some of it's motivated by good old-fashioned work ethic. Louis CK announced that he's going to start from scratch with material every year, and come up with an hour's worth of new material annually. (Even amongst other professional stand-ups, this is unheard of.)

Whatever the reasons—and look, I don't know these people personally, so I'm not interested in engaging in too much mind-reading armchair psychology—there are creative types that are known for being unusually prolific in their medium, and it's something I've found incredibly inspiring and compelling.

This is not to say that the output of these people is always gold (there are many films by Woody Allen that I've found seriously rushed and underdeveloped), or that I don't appreciate, admire or enjoy the work of those artists who meticulously take their time with seemingly forever to complete their projects (the Kubricks, the Malicks, the Flauberts, the Brian Wilsons and Lauryn Hills). It's just that when contemplating my own work, I've always wanted to be in the former camp in terms of creative output.

I'd rather write and stage 20 plays or more in 10 years that are hit-or-miss than two in the same timeframe that are considered (by either myself, the audience, critics, or some combination of all three) masterworks.

Although I'd like to consider myself prolific in the playwriting field, it really seems I'm just on par with the scene (my buds and colleagues Qui Nguyen, Derek Ahonen, Joshua Conkel, and Jeff Lewonczyk among many, many others, are all staging one new play a year or more). I guess for folks like us, it's inconceivable to do less. I mean, we love doing this, we can do this, and we're fortunately in a position where we can get our work staged the way we want it staged. So what's the alternative? Just not write?

Lately, however, I've wondered about the advantages of taking considerably more time to work on a new script or project. Now that Nosedive is over 11 years old, we no longer have Something To Prove (we've done over 20 shows in 10 years and have two new shows lined up for the summer; I think we can be seen as an actual theatre company at this point). We can afford to take time between productions.

Also, at this stage of the game, I don't want to just be producing solely for the sake of producing: writing a play simply because we've got an open slot in the upcoming season that needs filling.

In other words, I don't want to just be marking time.

And again, hey: I'm still a huge fan of Stanley Kubrick. Maybe there's something to taking a substantial amount of time in creating something. So maybe, after 11 years of writing and producing theatre at a steady clip, it'd be worth looking into being more meticulous with the next project.

Besides, wouldn't it be fun to spend over a decade producing two to three new works a year, then go into hiding for a year or two (or three), then unveil some new long-in-the-works secret project?

(This isn't to say that I'm against revising or rewriting, but just that the revision process is still part of the fast turnaround—a month writing the rough, a month putting it away and working on something else, then a month revising.)

Well, it doesn't seem to be sticking. I've quickly found that "taking my time" rapidly devolves into "procrastinating writing," which in turn rapidly devolves into "not writing at all."

It's not that I've run out of or am having a tough time coming up with ideas. Quite the contrary. I've currently got a number of ideas I'm contemplating. But I'm really only doing just that: contemplating. I've been procrastinating, dragging my feet, waiting for one of these ideas to grow on its own before making a decision to cultivate (translate: write) one.

Yeah, clearly this method of creating just isn't for me. In some ways, at this stage in the game, I wish it were. But I don't think I have it in me.

So, although this season—Blood Brothers, Captain Moonbeam & Lynchpin, and possibly Infectious Opportunity—has already been written (not counting if we're invited back to the Vampire Cowboys' Saturday Night Saloon), there's currently nothing yet written for 2012. Which means that needs to change. And soon.

This also means I need to make sure this isn't just a case of me marking time: it means I need to follow Louis CK's philosophy of keep working, keep producing new material, but make sure every new work is better than the last.

We'll see how this goes.

Back to work.

Breaking for nobody,

James "Spaceball One" Comtois

The Shining (Stanley Kubrick, 1980)

There are spoilers throughout.

Stanley Kubrick's liberal adaptation of Stephen King's novel, The Shining downplays the book's supernatural element and makes it more about a recovering alcoholic becoming crushed by isolation, despair and failure, and falling off the wagon in the most spectacular way imaginable.

I'll be honest: The Shining isn't a movie that grabbed me when I first watched it. It's a movie that grew on me exponentially since my original viewing. Not that I disliked it when I first encountered it, but when I was 13, I found it overlong and took too much time kicking into gear, with many false starts (although it did have Jack Nicholson running around this large nearly empty hotel terrorizing people with an axe, which my 13 year-old self appreciated).

And okay, fuck it. I first saw The Shining during my full-blown, rabid Stephen King fanboy days, a time when I would take less-than-faithful adaptations of his work a little too personally. Though, I think by now we all know that this isn't a "Stephen King film." It's a Stanley Kubrick film, through and through.

Carrie is a Stephen King film (even though it's quite ably directed by Brian De Palma). Stand By Me is a Stephen King film (again, no offense to Rob Reiner intended). The Shining is a Kubrick film that, like all his films (virtually all of Kubrick's feature films were adapted from literary works) happens to use King's novel as creative fodder to tell this own story his own damn way.

So, I won't go over the differences between the book and the film, simply because there are just too damn many. It'd be a shorter list of how they're similar (pretty much the characters' names and that it takes place in a closed up haunted hotel are what they have in common).

When I saw it again five years later, I found every single frame filled with menace and dread, from the ominous opening credits to the slow tracking shot of Danny in the bathroom talking with his imaginary friend Tony about his dad getting the job at the Overlook Hotel. And those are just in the first few minutes of the movie. We haven't even gotten to those fucking twins or the woman in Room 237 or seeing "ALL WORK AND NO PLAY MAKES JACK A DULL BOY" written in various formats on reams of paper (it's such a simple scene but it's so effectively chilling).

And I've seen it many, many times since. It's a creepy-ass movie.

Despite King's originally expressed disappointment with the film, the material suits Kubrick well. His signature unnerving slow tracking wide-angle shots are perfectly suited for a horror film (his only entry in the genre), truly capturing the cold, bleak isolation of the expansive Overlook Hotel.

You may be asking a very reasonable question. Why am I praising The Shining, which has a much longer run-time and is all about buildup and eerie atmosphere, when I criticized Rosemary's Baby of being substandard for the same reasons? First off, I find Rosemary's Baby dull and find The Shining engaging. For me, Kubrick is more successful in creating a mood of slow and steady dread in The Shining than Polanski is in Rosemary's Baby. In some ways, it's as simple as that. But no, I'm a quasi-professional here, so I'll continue to elaborate.

Second, and I admit this is pretty bitchy, things actually happen in The Shining. From Danny's hallucinations to Jack's slow and steady meltdown to Jack's investigation into Room 237 to the relentless, "Oh, shit! Dad's got an Axe! RUN!" conclusion, shit actually happens. With Rosemary's Baby, you've got one amazing sequence, a whole lot of nothing, then a muted and somewhat anticlimactic conclusion.

And third, simply put, The Shining is scary while Rosemary's Baby is not.

(Okay, I really should stop, lest this seem like I'm just bashing the shit out of Polanski's film. I don't hate it. Really. I just think it's overrated and should be cut by 30 minutes.)

The Shining opens with Jack Torrance (Jack Nicholson) interviewing for a job at the Overlook Hotel as its off-season caretaker. In the interview, the manager warns him that a previous caretaker got cabin fever and killed his family and himself during the long winter in which the hotel, which is built on the site of an Indian burial ground, is completely isolated.

Jack's son, Danny (Danny Lloyd), talks to his imaginary friend, Tony, about his bad premonitions about the hotel. Jack's wife, Wendy (Shelley Duvall), tells a visiting doctor about Danny's imaginary friend "Tony" and that Jack had given up drinking because he had dislocated Danny's shoulder after a night of heavy drinking.

The family arrives at the hotel on closing day and is given a tour. The elderly black chef Dick Hallorann (Scatman Crothers) speaks to Danny telepathically, offering him some ice cream.

While they have ice cream, Hallorann explains to Danny that he and his grandmother shared the gift; they called the communication "shining." Danny asks if there is anything to be afraid of in the hotel, particularly Room 237. Hallorann tells Danny that the hotel has a certain "shine" to it and many memories, not all of them good. (Hallorann's simile of the memories lingering like the smell of burnt toast is an element where Kubrick tries to connect the concept of ESP and evil spirits connected to the real world.) He warns Danny to stay out of room 237.

A month later, Jack is trying to write, but doesn't seem to be making much headway. In fact, when Wendy tries to engage in chitchat with him, he's outright hostile.

Danny enjoys riding around the endless halls of the hotel in his Big Wheels bike, until he has one of his..."hallucinations." That's right. It's those fucking twins; the two daughters of the previous caretaker who went batshit insane and went after his family with an axe.

Yeah. Fuck this hotel.

When the snow piles up, the family is officially shut in for the winter. The snowstorm knocks out the phone lines and makes travel nearly impossible. I particularly love the sequence where Wendy is speaking to a dispatcher on the radio, needing to go, "Over," then switching the radio from talk to listen mode for the conversation (emphasizing how cut off they are from the outside world).

Then there's that truly horrific scene in Room 237 where Jack goes to see what's in there that attacked Danny. Even before the "gotcha" moment when the hot naked lady turns into the not-so-hot deformed semi-corpse naked lady, the scene, which unfolds slowly and in one of those long wide-angle shots Kubrick was known for, always puts me on edge.

But throughout all this supernatural creepiness, which builds and builds and builds until Jack is eventually coached by the ghost of the previous caretaker to "correct" his family (and of course by "correct," I mean, "chop up into little pieces with an axe"), there's a through-line of a recovering alcoholic desperately trying to keep it together...and failing, due to outside forces beyond his control.

Though Kubrick has never been known for his warm portrayal of humanity (and The Shining definitely follows Kubrick's theme of humans being insignificant and powerless specs against giant outside forces of nature), and I certainly wouldn't argue that The Shining is an exception to this rule (it's not), I was struck listening to Jack's rant about going on the wagon after injuring Danny (at the four-minute mark in the above clip). He clearly feels regret about injuring his son, but still tries to downplay it as an accident anyone could have made (that Wendy has blown out of proportion). For someone not known for portraying humanity, this is a surprisingly emotionally honest scene.

Although The Shining ultimately reveals that the ghosts and demons are literal (how else would Wendy see the furries going at it, and how else would Jack escape the walk-in fridge, and what about that final shot of the old photo with Jack in it?), the film just as interested - if not more so - in the metaphorical demons that trigger Jack Torrence's descent into homicidal madness.

Making sure the Sidewinder still runs,

James "Snowblind" Comtois

Carrie (Brian De Palma, 1976)

This entry contains spoilers, but seriously: is there anyone reading this who hasn't seen the movie?

"I wanna be normal, I wanna start to try me, a whole person, before it's too late."

-Carrie White

Although I wrote in an earlier post that I've been more than a little reluctant to cover the universally agreed-upon Great Horror Films from the 1970s, since they've been talked about to death, I think the time has come for me to stop being such a weenie and offer you a few entries on some of the established milestone horror films from the '70s; those films that are invariably on most, if not all, Top 10 Horror Movies of All Time lists. Besides, it's not like I haven't written about classic horror films from the '70s before.

My first entry in this quasi-category for this new batch of horror film assessments is Brian De Palma's 1976 adaptation of Stephen King's first published novel, Carrie, which is considered by many (including by King himself) to be one of the best adaptations of the author's work. De Palma's film is simultaneously realistic and baroque in portraying the high school caste system. (The latter of which isn't really in King's novel. The story in the book is told in retrospect, often in court transcripts, eyewitness testimonies, and news stories, giving the story more a police report/case study feel. That's not a criticism, lest you think I'm disparaging the novel.)

Carrie is a very simple and straightforward story about a very withdrawn, socially inept and unpopular high school girl who has the ability to move things with her mind. She's mocked and hated by many of the other girls in school and emotionally stunted by her religious fanatic of a mother, who believes she has been tainted by the devil.

The movie opens with Carrie White in the shower after gym class, and getting her period. Since she's unaware about women's menstrual cycles, she panics and thinks she's dying. The rest of the girls taunt the hysterical loser. (Even Miss Collins, the one teacher genuinely sympathetic towards Carrie, can't deal with her histrionics, and slaps her to calm her down.)

The makers of Carrie also reveal how easy it is for even the "nice kids" to get caught up in mob mentality. When we're first introduced to Sue Snell, who's actually a kind-hearted character, she's joining her schoolmates in mocking Carrie and cruelly tossing towels and tampons at her in the shower room. Sure, she regrets her behavior later, but at the time, it doesn't even occur to her to go against the grain and try to help her classmate (De Palma doesn't show any shots of Sue looking reluctant to join in the mockery; he shows her diving right in).

After this incident, Sue and another girl, Chris Hargensen, use their boyfriends to deal with the aftermath. Sue wants to help, so she asks her boyfriend, Tommy, to take Carrie to prom. Chris wants revenge, so she gets her boyfriend, Billy, to humiliate her at said prom.

Although Carrie reasonably suspects that Tommy's request to take her to the prom is part of a scheme to make fun of her, she eventually believes him, and reluctantly accepts his invitation.

I always have a problem with pretty actresses playing nerds or geeks in movies, the casting of Sissy Spacek as Carrie works perfectly, perhaps because she isn't a typical nerd or geek. Spacek, though very pretty in this film, still conveys a painful awkwardness that makes it clear that no one would be caught dead hanging out with, let alone dating, her. Her mousy manner, her stringy hair always covering her face, only to occasionally be pulled back to reveal her innocent-bordering-on-psychotic bulging Kewpie doll eyes. In fact, the movie takes great pains to point out that she is in fact quite easy on the eyes, but that her demeanor and personality (as well as social status) prevents her from being remotely attractive to the boys in school.

(Though this really is a device used in films in later years, Carrie mercifully doesn't use the hatefully clichéd and lazy, "Girl Gets Jaw-Dropping Makeover Based More Or Less Solely On Getting New Hairstyle And Removing Glasses" device.)

Watching the movie again, I forgot that, in the scene where Carrie and Tommy dance (with the camera spinning around them faster and faster until the viewer gets motion sickness), Tommy kisses her, which really opens a whole can of worms for the three characters (Carrie, Sue and Tommy). Originally, Tommy takes Carrie out at the request of his girlfriend. He's clearly a bit chagrined and amused by this task, until this scene. He's not just kissing Carrie to make her feel better about herself. I wondered if this weren't a film about a telekinetic girl, would a whole new story have followed this trajectory? Would Tommy tell Sue about the kiss? Would he then stop interacting with Carrie after the prom, or would he develop feelings for her and break up with Sue? And if so, how would Sue react? I would imagine not too well: after all, Sue's trying to do something nice for Carrie, and in turn, Carrie steals her boyfriend.

Of course, there's no opportunity for this can of worms to be dealt with. Chris gets her revenge by rigging the prom king & queen election so that Tommy & Carrie win, then dumping a bucket of pig blood on Carrie when she's up on the stage with her bouquet of roses and tiara, reminding the school that she's the outcast of the social order, not the prom queen. The bucket then falls on Tommy's head, knocking him unconscious.

Then, all hell breaks loose.

Unfortunately for Chris and virtually everyone else in the school, Chris' revenge scheme works. Carrie, pushed too far, unleashes her telekinetic fury on the bulk of the school, killing and maiming many, many people (including Chris and Billy later).

When she goes home, her mother, vindicated in her assertion that everyone was going to laugh at her if she went to the dance, tries to kill her daughter. Carrie uses her powers to impale her mother with as many kitchen utensils as possible, killing her.

Consumed by rage, humiliation and physical pain (her mother has stabbed her, after all), Carrie brings the house crashing down on her and her mother with her mind. She is buried in the rubble and killed.

It would be incredibly vulgar and tasteless, not to mention dunderheaded and inaccurate, to suggest that King and De Palma "predicted Columbine." They didn't "predict" anything. What they did was tap into that hurt and rage that many alienated and outcast teens stuck at the bottom of high school's social pecking order feel.

Revisiting this film (and skimming through the novel again), I found the prom scene almost unbearable, knowing how it would all turn out. You have this outcast who's finally coming out of her shell (and looking absolutely beautiful) and developing the inklings of something resembling self-esteem and confidence, only to have it come crashing down horribly in the blink of an eye. It's crushing and to see that her mother's nasty predictions all come true (and Mrs. White really isn't a character you want to be right).

(I was almost tempted to cover my eyes at the shot where the pig blood is dumped on an elated Carrie, but I didn't. I came here to do the job, and do the job right.)

The scenes I found the most horrific were the ones grounded in reality (I mean, sure, I jump when Sue has the dream about Carrie's hand coming up from the ground to grab her, and wince when De Palma cranks the soundtrack for those other obligatory "boo" moments): when Carrie freaks the fuck out in the shower in the opening, when she pleads with her mother to comfort and love her (to no avail), seeing hope and happiness register on Carrie's face through the course of preparing for and attending the prom with the knowledge that Chris will succeed in taking that all away, forever.

Ultimately, Carrie is a tragedy about an outcast girl who just wants to be normal before it's too late, and is very close to fulfilling her very simple and not-terribly-ambitious goal, yet fails.

And that's horrific.

Glad he's out of high school,

James "Not So Nostalgic" Comtois

And We're Spent

We've closed the show. The Blood Brothers Present...The Master of Horror has now gone off to the Great Production in the Sky. Despite rocky beginnings, it was a great run. Hell, we got to stage plays based on Stephen King stories. It's not often you get to do something like that, so that was a whole hell of a lot of fun.

Most of the folks in Nosedive Central can now nap. I now have to write a bunch of stuff.

Turnin out the lights,

James "Janitor" Comtois

'Nother Review, Three More Shows

The Blood Brothers Present...The Master of Horror delivers what it promises - humor, fear, and a healthy (or unhealthy, depending on your point of view) dose of gore. And when was the last time you saw a group of actors who could be so good at being so evil?"
-Byrne Harrison, Stagebuzz

We begin our fourth and final weekend tonight. Buy your tickets.

Looking up your skirt,

James "Totally Appropriate" Comtois

For The Blood Brothers show on Halloween Night...

We're offering some libations (read: beer and wine) at the beginning of the evening. Those that come in costume get a free beer or glass of wine. For the rest, it’s $3 for either.

Leering at the young ladies in the lobby,

James "Halloween Treat" Comtois

Just Three More Shows

Our final weekend is approaching. What are you waiting for? Buy your damn tickets already.

It is interesting to look back on the disastrous opening night and my severe depression regarding it as some sort of vague and distant memory; almost as if it happened to some other group of people other than us. The show has been playing like gangbusters ever since. We here at Nosedive Central are having a great deal of fun with it, and are almost surprised the run is almost up. (Has it already been a month? Damn.)

There was even some interest expressed by a play publishing company about publishing the scripts, but not surprisingly, we couldn't get publishing rights (which is fine by me; I went into this knowing King's estate was giving us a "One Shot Deal" with this production - we didn't create this show for publishing, extensions or getting "picked up" in mind - and his people have been very helpful, accommodating and reasonable throughout this process).

Still, it was (is) quite flattering to receive some genuine interest in the show from people outside our immediate mailing list.

So kick off your Halloween right by checking out The Blood Brothers Present...The Master of Horror. It's an early enough show (it starts at 7:30 and is only 90 minutes long), so you have plenty of time to trot on over to whatever Halloween shindig you have lined up for Friday night afterwards.

Your guide to creepy,

James "Handsy" Comtois

Photos:
#1: Marc Landers
#2: Ben Trawick-Smith (left), Michael Criscuolo, Marsha Martinez
#3: Jessi Gotta
All Photos © Aaron Epstein

New Stephen King Interview

Coinciding with the 30th anniversary of The Stand, Salon.com interviews Stephen King about religion and today's politics.

Photo © Mark Peterson/Redux

(H/t to Mr. Pete Boisvert.)

Tonight we begin our third weekend of The Blood Brothers Present, for which you should get your tickets as soon as possible.

Getting religuous,

James "Clergybear" Comtois

Revisiting "Nona"

It's amazing what a few small tweaks can do. I'm now really happy with this show and looking forward to having more people come see this.

One of the biggest challenges we all had with my entry, "Nona," is that the climax of the short story was (is) damn near unstageable. Without giving too much away (although the plot is public knowledge), the climactic scene is simultaneously cryptic and dealing with what seems to be the main character's internal mental meltdown. He's basically being simultaneously seduced and consumed...sort of. Hell, even the Wikipedia entry only says, "he encounters a possibly supernatural force." Well, yes. That's pretty much the best I (and Pete and a few other people in the company who read the story) could come up with.

Possibly a supernatural force.

I certainly didn't picture the climactic scene in the story in any linear, cinematic or theatrical way when I read it.

So, when I was originally working on the script, I will admit there was a small temptation to just Lynch it all up (so to speak) and leave it all up to Patrick (the director), Jessi (the eponymous Nona and "possible supernatural force"), Jeremy (the protagonist and narrator), and the audience to fend for themselves. It was a small temptation, but a temptation nonetheless. And fortunately, I didn't succumb to it. Exactly.

Actually, I think Patrick and I may have been a bit too literal and straightforward with the scene on our first try out. In other words, we had our loverboy protagonist confront a straight-up monstrous supernatural force (turning Jessi into a straight-up ghost-demon hybrid).

And, of course, 99 times out of 100, the unambiguously "monstrous" approach leads to snickers from the audience in a live stage play.

(Okay, bitches. You can all say it with me: "Duh, James.")

So, after first weekend, when we realized that that wasn't the best way to go, we talked about what to do. We had no intention of completely reblocking, rewriting and redesigning the show (actually it was an impossibility), but at the same time, I didn't think that was necessary. All it needed (in my estimation) was a few small changes.

So after changing some of the blocking, one prop, two lines, and one sound cue (we didn't do any massive overhauling of the show, we really just tweaked a few very small things), the climactic scene now has more of the ambiguity that King's original story has, which I think makes the play substantially more disturbing (at least to me; I found myself being genuinely creeped out watching the play last night). We brought some minor elements from Lynch's and Miike's work (as well as a small nod to the Greatest Horror Film Ever Made: The Texas Chain Saw Massacre) to make it much more eerie and make it much more our own.

I love the way we were able to change that scene in "Nona." I hope people enjoy it as well (well, "enjoy" being a relative term).

Unfortunately, due to the stipulations in the contract with King's people, we can't videotape this show, so we can't do some sort of "before and after" comparison and contrast. I guess you'll just have to take my word for it. Or just come see the show again.

Mucking it all up,

James "Ruckmaker" Comtois

Blood Brothers on Lilja's Library

We've got some international mention. Scroll down a bit on this Swedish Stephen King fan site and there's a nice write-up/shout-out for The Blood Brothers.

We're gearing up for our second weekend. Now that we've hammered out the kinks, I'm really looking forward to more people coming. Get your tickets as soon as you can, as this space fills up quickly (we're actually looking to be full up tomorrow, so Friday and Saturday are good nights this week to come, just FYI).

Reattaching mt sister's eyebrows to her face,

James "All in the Name of a Cool Effect" Comtois

Beginning Tomorrow: The Blood Brothers Present...The Master of Horror

Well, the time is almost upon us.

Tomorrow night at 7:30, we'll be unveiling our collection of horror plays based on short stories by Stephen Freakin’ King at the Endtimes Underground @ the Gene Frankel Theatre on 24 Bond Street (between Lafayette and Bowery).

We've got exploding body parts, severed limbs, cannibalization, self-mutilation, and more. What more could you ask for in a show?

Buy your tickets here.

Plus, following the debut performance on Thursday, October 9, we'll all be going to Dempsey's Pub on 61 Second Avenue (between East 3rd & 4th streets) for a post-opening night party, where they're offering attendees of the show an open bar on all domestic drinks, wine and house cocktails for two hours for $18.

A living cartoon character,

James "Vote Quimby" Comtois

Buy Your Tickets for The Blood Brothers Present Now

In just three days, Nosedive will be unveiling The Blood Brothers Present...The Master of Horror,its collection of new horror plays based on the short stories of Stephen King. This is gonna be a whole hell of a lot of fun.

Two things I can't stress enough:

1. Buy your tickets as soon as you can.

2. The shows are at 7:30. So if you show up at 8, you'll miss my piece ("Nona").

And one more thing I'd like to add (but not really "stress"):

Following the debut performance on Thursday, October 9, we'll all be going to Dempsey's Pub on 61 Second Avenue (between East 3rd & 4th streets) for a post-opening night party, where they're offering attendees of the show a pretty sweet deal: for $18, we get an open bar on all domestic drinks, wine and house cocktails for two hours. It would rock the werewolf's ass (to paraphrase the late great Wesley Willis) if you could join us.

Yeah, I really can't wait to get this thing off the ground.

Get Your Tickets For The Blood Brothers Present...The Master of Horror

In just one week, Nosedive Productions unveils its collection of new plays based on the short stories of Stephen King. Those looking for some lovely on-stage gore and mayhem need look no further.

Now, here’s the deal: tickets for this have been selling faster than we expected, so it’s a really good idea to buy them as soon as possible.

And again, all shows are at 7:30 p.m.

See you there!

Wanting to feed off you for sustenance,

James "Um...I'm Not A Vampire" Comtois

Blood Brothers on nytheatrecast!

Hey gang. Check out the latest episode of nytheatrecast, which features a podcast interview with myself, Qui Nguyen and Mac Rogers on the upcoming Blood Brothers show here.

Stammering like a moron,

James "Podcastgenic" Comtois

Oldie (But Goodie) Article on King in Salon.com

This is an old but still excellent article by Andrew O'Heir from Salon.com about Stephen King.

In it, Mr. O'Heir not only explains that Mr. King "one of the most important writers of our age," but also offers a good primer reading list for folks unfamiliar with Mr. King's work. (As a parenthetical, The Stand is not on the list, but Mr. O'Heir makes a decent argument for why it isn't. It, one of my favorite books of all-time, however, is.)

Mr. O'Heir writes:

"King's great talent is to keep you reading. His books will suck you out of your regular life and dangle you over the darkest unexplored abysses of your mind, while your flesh crawls around your skeleton as if trying to escape; they're nobody's idea of glittering literary style.

Read the whole thing here.

Irritating the literati,

James "Book Rash" Comtois

Getting Back Into King

We had the first reading of the scripts for The Blood Brothers Present on Monday night and rehearsals are now underway. I had a fun time hearing the other entries, particularly Qui's and Mac's entries, Quitter's, Inc. and In the Deathroom (respectively). I just sent in my cuts and amendments for my entry, Nona, to Patrick, which seem to meet with his approval.

In the meantime, starting this project has inspired me to reread King's epic, The Stand, which I have read twice before (but the last time was when I was in junior high or so, if I recall). I have to say, it still holds up. At first, I was a bit apprehensive at his (what I first found to be) excessive detail: the point of the first chapter is to introduce Stu Redman, the dying Charles Campion and how his crashing into Hap's gas station triggers the outbreak of the superflu. So did we really need a complete geneology of Stu's family history? (With this huge tome on my lap, I knew I would not remember where Stu's brother lives or what he did for a living five pages later.) However, that apprehension blew away by the second chapter.

And, for a book that's nearly 1,200 pages, it flies.

I'm not the fastest reader, but I just read 200 pages in one sitting like it was nothing. Even with roughly 20 or so major characters, the narrative is never cramped or confused. Each segment blends in seamlessly with the others (which was the exact opposite way I felt with-please forgive me, Isaac-Philip Pullman's The Amber Spyglass. Just when I'm wrapping up Nick Andros's dilemma with the rednecks who beat him up and robbed him in Arkansas, I'm wondering how ole' Larry Underwood is doing in New York and lo and behold, the next chapter gives me just that.

So, yeah. Damn fine read.

I think I've mentioned this before, but I'll mention it again. Stephen King was one of my first favorite authors (Isaac Asimov was another). His work was the first I would buy in hardcover as soon as it would come out: no checking out at the library, no waiting for paperback. Rereading The Stand (as well as flipping through some of the stories in Everything's Eventual and On Writing), I've been reminded why I love King's writing...

(despite some annoying literary ticks he has, such as his ultra-folksy walk-on characters and his tendency to be hyperbolic with the good and evil qualities of his heroes and villains)

...and how his work got me to love reading in general.

I'm looking forward to reading the rest of The Stand, and with this production, looking forward to seeing how people like our adaptations of his shorter work.

A total fanboy,

James "Trashcan Man" Comtois

The Blood Brothers Present...The Master of Horror

From Nosedive Productions...

The Blood Brothers Present...The Master of Horror

Nona by James Comtois
Quitters, Inc. by Qui Nguyen
In the Deathroom by Mac Rogers

All based on short stories by Stephen King

Directed by Pete Boisvert & Patrick Shearer

Featuring

Michael Criscuolo — Jeremy Goren — Jessi Gotta — Marc Landers
Marsha Martinez — Christian Toth — Ben Trawick-Smith

Endtimes Underground @ the Gene Frankel Theatre
October 9-11, 16-18, 23-25, 30-November 1, Thursday through Saturday, 7:30 p.m.

While hitchhiking on a snowy winter's night in Maine, a college dropout meets and falls in love with a girl he’d do absolutely anything for. Morrison is going to quit smoking whether he wants to or not… but is the cure worse than the disease? And Fletcher, an ex-reporter from the New York Times, is being held in an interrogation room in a foreign land, with only his wits to protect him.

These are the tales that make up this year’s The Blood Brothers Present... series, Nosedive Productions’ annual October horror show. James Comtois (Colorful World, The Adventures of Nervous-Boy), Qui Nguyen (Fight Girl Battle World) and Mac Rogers (Universal Robots, Hail Satan), three of New York indie theatre scene’s hottest playwrights write three new stage plays based on stories by the Master of Horror, Stephen King.

In addition to these one-acts, the evening will also present vignettes based on King’s Survivor Type, Paranoid: A Chant and The Last Waltz. The evening will be directed by Pete Boisvert and Patrick Shearer.

The Blood Brothers Present...The Master of Horror features graphic violence and is recommended for adults only.

The Blood Brothers Present... will be performed at Endtimes Underground @ the Gene Frankel Theatre (24 Bond St. between Bowery and Lafayette) October 9-11, 16-18, 23-25, 30-November 1 (Thursday through Saturday). All shows are at 7:30 p.m. and tickets are $18. Subway: 6 to Bleeker; or V, D, F, B, to Broadway/Lafayette.

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