Hi, I’m Jack. I’m a friend/fan of New Leaf Theatre. About a month ago, Jessica and I went to see a play. After the show we went to a bar to talk about theater, and as usual we were talking about the same things–the mutual experience of the performers and the audience, a process that thrives on a multiplicity of voices, having fun with sound and lights. She asked me to be a part of this Summerfest party that New Leaf was putting up, and of course I said yes.

So okay, we go away, I’m in casting and preproduction for my next show (bobrauschenbergamerica with Chicago Fusion Theatre, coming in September!), not really thinking about much else. And then, about a week ago, I get an email containing three scripts and a casting breakdown. In the email, Jessica suggests that I direct Raptor & Scavenger, a play by Bilal Dardai, with actors Max Lesser, Alyse Kittner, Tiffany Topol, and Mark Chaitin. Now, Max and Tiffany I’ve seen in New Leaf shows, and I know they are the tops. And Bilal is in the first show that ever made my head explode in Chicago (Too Much Light Makes the Baby Go Blind, natch) so I’m already kind of starstruck. Then I read the play. Which is ridiculous. You want to see a script that will never, ever be fully staged despite its taut comedy, fun parts for actors, and breathtaking climax? Come see Raptor & Scavenger deny physics, the fiscal realities of production, and animal-cruelty laws three times on Saturday.

So okay, I get the script, I read it, I say “Sweet Christmas, what in the name of Bertolt Brecht do I do with this?” I make some notes (“have an opinion about that guy”, “SCREAM THIS”, “wha??”) and I put it away and recommence freaking out about casting my own show.

Thursday comes. Parking by the LPCC is usually a fool’s errand, but I get there early and find a sick spot right outside. I head into the space to look around, re-read, make more notes. This room is gorgeous–it’s just big enough for theater but it still feels like a real room. I love sitting on the little stage I’ve only ever seen used as the booth, which hangs, dark and empty, off the north end of the room, looking down on the big wood floor where the shows happen. Or no, my favorite part is the low swimming pool in the ceiling. No, it’s the Abe Lincoln fireplace. I’ve wanted to stage a play in here for like a year. The cast trickles in, Jessica’s there, and Kyra, and Bilal (who is awesome, it turns out). There are two more scripts that I haven’t read (oops). We sit in a circle and we get down to it. Jessica says, “Let’s start with Raptor.” And looks at me. And everyone looks at me.

I start talking about how I want to use the room, and the cast’s relationship with the audience, and it’s all a bit pie-in-the-sky for a ten-minute play that’s sharing its one 3-hour rehearsal with two other pieces. But everyone in the room–six actors, three directors, and two writers–gets involved. Those who’ve played at New Leaf before are telling me some of the room’s staging secrets. I’m trying to reconcile what I see in Bilal’s script with the needs of the other shows, but everyone’s saying “Just go with it, let’s play.” So we do, and it’s the most fun. Suddenly, we’ve got a seating arrangement that everyone is excited about. The cast is working incredibly fast, information is flying around the room. I’m shouting “Someone tell me where the tiger door is!” (someone does, and they’re right–the Abe Lincoln fireplace).

Three hours later, we’ve got three plays staged. Each one is unique in tone and visual concept. Each one flexes the space, and maximizes the creativity of our six brilliant actors. Each one is a blast to watch.

Tonight was one of those rehearsals.

I’m getting up super early on Saturday to take the bus from Pilsen for the show, and I CAN’T WAIT, SERIOUSLY.