As I mentioned in my description of Sleep No More, the entire audience is asked to don white plastic masks that cover the face fully and told to keep the masks on at ALL times.
The masks were my favorite device at work in the show, and I think it's because they were so simple, but multifunctional.
Who's Who
The first, and most utilitarian use of the masks is to separate actor from audience visually. In crowded dark hallways it is easy to find the characters, because they are unmasked. The rest of us fade into a non distracting (and dream like) backdrop of white faces.
The Audience as Aesthetic
The value of the backdrop of white masks goes further when you consider how eerie a constant presence of inexpressive faces really is. It's seriously creepy. What are those faces in the context of the scenes? We are the classical Greek chorus watching a tragedy but not stopping it. We are one lone character's invisible friend in a time of need. We are the demons pursing the tortured characters in their own nightmares. Or their guardian angels. Or maybe we're just part of the wall. The masks no longer simply delineate actor from audience but they blur the line between us at the same time. The masks are our own costumes and we become a tangible part of the show through them.
Anonymity
The masks also empower the audience to behave more boldly. With our faces (and by extension our identities) shrouded we were more free to follow, run, touch and explore, all of which was essential to the success of the play as a whole. Nobody has to look foolish. Because we're all Nobody. It similarly prevented anyone from actively disengaging (or cracking jokes or trying to "break" the actors) due to anxiety, which can often ruin intimate, interactive theater experiences. With their masks on, audience members are free to step closer or step back without self consciousness.
Sensory Deprivation and ASC
Our ability to sense air moving near our face an an important cue for sensing others near us in the dark, is restricted by the mask. So is peripheral vision, causing people to have to turn their necks further, and to focus more on what's directly in front of them. Loss of peripheral vision also makes a dimly room lit dimmer when the light source is beyond sight lines. Additionally, an altered state of consciousness (ASC) can be induced through the manipulation of sensory input, which in this case is achieved in a minimal way, through the masks. We feel different with the masks on because our brain is receiving information in a new way, and is sending signals back to our body that something strange is going on. In this state we are more susceptible to suggestion, creating a richer theatrical experience.
Isolation
Every person, because of his mask, gets to react to the show as if he is seeing it alone. You could also say every person because of his masks has to react to the show as if he is seeing it alone.
Making the audience wear masks ensures that at any given moment individual members are reacting only to the deliberate cues within the show. Whether it's an entire scene or just a smell, no one can accidentally affect how anyone else perceives it.
Every person behind his or her own mask remains isolated, unable to seek information on anyone's face and equally unable to easily convey emotion to anyone else.
With our most effortless means of silent communication stripped away there is a loss of community, and of connectivity. But the same masks which taketh away also giveth. And in this instance what the masks provide is protection from the vulnerability that comes from losing your safety net. You're alone in the crowd, but the crowd will never know how you feel about that.
It's incredible what a plain white mask can do. The more I think about it, the more I am certain that the entire show would have been different, (and might not have even worked) without the very small addition of masking the audience.
I'm in awe of the enormous impact of such a simple thing.
Showing posts with label theater. Show all posts
Showing posts with label theater. Show all posts
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Sleep No More
As a child, at haunted houses or at Plymouth Plantation, or at theme parks my mind could fill in any details that were decidedly lacking. My imagination was always willing to overlook the zipper on the back of the monster. But the older I've gotten, the fewer interactive theater experiences I've had that didn't let me down in some way or another.
Sleep No More not only didn't let me down, it far exceeded every expectation I had. It was meant to transport us fully and it did. I feel like I lucid-dreamed someone else's nightmare.
The audience enters through a swanky 1930s bar called Manderlay*. John and I took seats near the stage, but the Annie Darcy Band was on break. Soon our playing card numbers were called, and we entered a dark hallway. We were asked to be silent and to keep our masks on. What masks? Oh, just the blank white masks that they were handing out to everyone. Masks on? Good.
Annnd Goodnight.
Sleep No More is a Punchdrunk and A.R.T collaboration. It's defined most accurately as "immersion theater." Every room in the Old Lincoln School in Brookline has been transformed carefully and deliberately into a different fantasy set. The audience is invited and encouraged to touch anything they want. (In an office, I pawed through a drawer and found a notebook full of frantic scribbling and sentence fragments; in another room a school room desk was full of hay and human hair.) The audience follows actors through dimly lit hallways, bearing witness to the characters' interactions. Lights, sounds and even cleverly layered smells guide emotional reactions in every room.
The story is Macbeth, but through a Hitchcock lens, and most of the scenes are completely non vocal. The success of the scenes relies on the ability of the actors to communicate relationship and intent through facial expressions and body language. And they do not disappoint. Each and every actor is fully committed to moving honestly through a world we're just trespassing in.
You can also read John's account of the evening. But we had very different nights. Every audience member has a potentially completely different experience depending on which characters they chose to follow, when to leave a scene or stay and what rooms to explore next. In the end everyone finds their way to the same location for the final scene of the play, a shocking and visually impressive climax.
John and I followed the second Mrs. de Winters as she ran through the hotel lobby and into an office two floors below us. She was startled out of a reverie induced by a photograph she found by a man who approached her from behind. As we stood by the anger in his eyes turned to desire, they embraced and kissed. When she fled, I ran after her leaving John with the man.
After a following her for some time I found myself alone with her. She beckoned me into a small bedroom, locked the door and bid me to sit down. I sat. She took my mask off and suddenly the room became very, very real. She leaned in and told me a story. As she told me the story we held hands. Slowly we were getting closer until we were embracing. The story was sad. I was comforting her. I had been told not to speak, and I didn't. Not even when she kissed my forehead. She put the mask back on my face and led me to the hall.
I entered chapels and bedrooms. I watched couples dancing in a misty forest that intoxicated me with the smell of pine. Later in the evening, left on my own, I accidentally walked in on Duncan's murder. I followed Macbeth back to his room, watched his wife wash the blood of his face, hands and chest. When he left, I stayed silently watching her private journey from anxiety to agony to outright hysteria.
Like a dream, some details are hazy - was that a knife or a playing card? And others are firmly impressed in my memory - I remember, as an example, the chapter that the Bible was open to in de Winter's bedroom.
The last scene left me unable to speak for a little while, and I still felt the effects of the dream like state as I pushed my way out of Manderlay, which had become impossibly crowded. When John and I finally met up outside we compared notes. Together we pieced together more of the show than we would have seen had we come just alone or had tried (as some people did) to stay as a unit.
Sleep No More was one of the most satisfying audience experiences I've had in a very long time because it created an entire world of make believe to invest myself in without fear of interruption by logic or reason. It was permission to explore and process in new ways. It was a collective experience, but it was also a solitary one. Occasionally my mind poked me with "I wish I could be in a show like this," but otherwise it obeyed the reality of my/the dream world. Although it was nightmarish at times I emerged at the end feeling more refreshed and well rested than before. Amazing.
-----------------------------------------------
* Manderlay is fictitious in that it had been built as a set piece for the show, but also completely functional as it's being run by nearby La Morra.
Sleep No More not only didn't let me down, it far exceeded every expectation I had. It was meant to transport us fully and it did. I feel like I lucid-dreamed someone else's nightmare.
The audience enters through a swanky 1930s bar called Manderlay*. John and I took seats near the stage, but the Annie Darcy Band was on break. Soon our playing card numbers were called, and we entered a dark hallway. We were asked to be silent and to keep our masks on. What masks? Oh, just the blank white masks that they were handing out to everyone. Masks on? Good.
Annnd Goodnight.
Sleep No More is a Punchdrunk and A.R.T collaboration. It's defined most accurately as "immersion theater." Every room in the Old Lincoln School in Brookline has been transformed carefully and deliberately into a different fantasy set. The audience is invited and encouraged to touch anything they want. (In an office, I pawed through a drawer and found a notebook full of frantic scribbling and sentence fragments; in another room a school room desk was full of hay and human hair.) The audience follows actors through dimly lit hallways, bearing witness to the characters' interactions. Lights, sounds and even cleverly layered smells guide emotional reactions in every room.
The story is Macbeth, but through a Hitchcock lens, and most of the scenes are completely non vocal. The success of the scenes relies on the ability of the actors to communicate relationship and intent through facial expressions and body language. And they do not disappoint. Each and every actor is fully committed to moving honestly through a world we're just trespassing in.
You can also read John's account of the evening. But we had very different nights. Every audience member has a potentially completely different experience depending on which characters they chose to follow, when to leave a scene or stay and what rooms to explore next. In the end everyone finds their way to the same location for the final scene of the play, a shocking and visually impressive climax.
John and I followed the second Mrs. de Winters as she ran through the hotel lobby and into an office two floors below us. She was startled out of a reverie induced by a photograph she found by a man who approached her from behind. As we stood by the anger in his eyes turned to desire, they embraced and kissed. When she fled, I ran after her leaving John with the man.
After a following her for some time I found myself alone with her. She beckoned me into a small bedroom, locked the door and bid me to sit down. I sat. She took my mask off and suddenly the room became very, very real. She leaned in and told me a story. As she told me the story we held hands. Slowly we were getting closer until we were embracing. The story was sad. I was comforting her. I had been told not to speak, and I didn't. Not even when she kissed my forehead. She put the mask back on my face and led me to the hall.
I entered chapels and bedrooms. I watched couples dancing in a misty forest that intoxicated me with the smell of pine. Later in the evening, left on my own, I accidentally walked in on Duncan's murder. I followed Macbeth back to his room, watched his wife wash the blood of his face, hands and chest. When he left, I stayed silently watching her private journey from anxiety to agony to outright hysteria.
Like a dream, some details are hazy - was that a knife or a playing card? And others are firmly impressed in my memory - I remember, as an example, the chapter that the Bible was open to in de Winter's bedroom.
The last scene left me unable to speak for a little while, and I still felt the effects of the dream like state as I pushed my way out of Manderlay, which had become impossibly crowded. When John and I finally met up outside we compared notes. Together we pieced together more of the show than we would have seen had we come just alone or had tried (as some people did) to stay as a unit.
Sleep No More was one of the most satisfying audience experiences I've had in a very long time because it created an entire world of make believe to invest myself in without fear of interruption by logic or reason. It was permission to explore and process in new ways. It was a collective experience, but it was also a solitary one. Occasionally my mind poked me with "I wish I could be in a show like this," but otherwise it obeyed the reality of my/the dream world. Although it was nightmarish at times I emerged at the end feeling more refreshed and well rested than before. Amazing.
-----------------------------------------------
* Manderlay is fictitious in that it had been built as a set piece for the show, but also completely functional as it's being run by nearby La Morra.
Thursday, October 29, 2009
what I did for love
My hands and feet are all cut up from Gorefest*, and the other day as I washed fake blood out of my real scrapes I realized I had absentmindedly started humming "What I Did For Love." I immediately thought of Keith.
Keith A. Grassette was working as the artistic director at Riverside Theater Works in Boston when we met. He loves to tell the story of how we met as much as I do. It goes like this: "Michelle was blindfolded when I met her and she bit me." I was auditioning for the role of Helen Keller at the time. Keith loves to explain that even as I was biting one of his hands he was pointing at me with the other and mouthing "this is her" to the producer. I love to explain that I had no idea who Keith was, and had been warned to "stay out of Keith's way," if I ever auditioned at RTW.
Under Keith's tutelage I learned the ins and outs of stage production. Keith taught me how to be professional, how to show up on time, how to take notes gracefully. Over the years I acted in as many plays as he could cast me. I became his intern, I taught some of his classes and eventually became his co worker, teaching my own classes at the theater. Then, most importantly I became his friend. Once I left high school Keith and I were able to share stories over drinks, gossip about mutual friends and trade advice on shows and classes. I went on to teach theater part time for the next six years (and counting!) at Thacher Montessori. Like a child mimicking a parent, sometimes I still hear Keith's words come out of my mouth when I address my students.
One of Keith's frequent speeches to wishy washy students was the "What I Did For Love" talk.
"I got news for ya'll**," he'd say making eye contact with the pre teens crowding the stage steps. "It's not a song about a relationship. It's a song about the theater. Sometimes you make sacrifices. When this is what you love, that's what you do. You miss other things. You give up some parts of your normal life. Because this is what you love."
In college I basically stopped doing scripted theater in favor of studying improv. Keith asks when he sees me (about twice a year now), "You still just doing that improv stuff?" Keith, as a rule, does not really enjoy "improv stuff."
So I called him last week.... and I invited him to Gorefest and didn't realize until I said it out loud how much his answer would mean to me.
He's coming tonight with our friend Maureen. I haven't seen either of them in almost a year. They haven't seen me perform in almost five years.*** I'm full of giddy energy just thinking about seeing them both again and making them proud. Both of them, but especially Keith. I've watched the whole show in my mind, trying to see it through his eyes. Will he think it's as funny as I do? Will he like the music? I think he will. I have a lot of faith in the show. But I recognize the part of me that's 15 years old working as hard as I can to show my director that I've got the "chops." Gorefest is for always for everybody. But tonight, this show is for Keith.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
* The stage is very rough and gritty to prevent slips. Unfortunately, that means that coming in contact with it, even intentionally, scrapes us up a bit.
** Keith is from Maine
*** With the exception of a Three Hole Punch show we did in Plymouth a few years ago.
Keith A. Grassette was working as the artistic director at Riverside Theater Works in Boston when we met. He loves to tell the story of how we met as much as I do. It goes like this: "Michelle was blindfolded when I met her and she bit me." I was auditioning for the role of Helen Keller at the time. Keith loves to explain that even as I was biting one of his hands he was pointing at me with the other and mouthing "this is her" to the producer. I love to explain that I had no idea who Keith was, and had been warned to "stay out of Keith's way," if I ever auditioned at RTW.
Under Keith's tutelage I learned the ins and outs of stage production. Keith taught me how to be professional, how to show up on time, how to take notes gracefully. Over the years I acted in as many plays as he could cast me. I became his intern, I taught some of his classes and eventually became his co worker, teaching my own classes at the theater. Then, most importantly I became his friend. Once I left high school Keith and I were able to share stories over drinks, gossip about mutual friends and trade advice on shows and classes. I went on to teach theater part time for the next six years (and counting!) at Thacher Montessori. Like a child mimicking a parent, sometimes I still hear Keith's words come out of my mouth when I address my students.
One of Keith's frequent speeches to wishy washy students was the "What I Did For Love" talk.
"I got news for ya'll**," he'd say making eye contact with the pre teens crowding the stage steps. "It's not a song about a relationship. It's a song about the theater. Sometimes you make sacrifices. When this is what you love, that's what you do. You miss other things. You give up some parts of your normal life. Because this is what you love."
In college I basically stopped doing scripted theater in favor of studying improv. Keith asks when he sees me (about twice a year now), "You still just doing that improv stuff?" Keith, as a rule, does not really enjoy "improv stuff."
So I called him last week.... and I invited him to Gorefest and didn't realize until I said it out loud how much his answer would mean to me.
He's coming tonight with our friend Maureen. I haven't seen either of them in almost a year. They haven't seen me perform in almost five years.*** I'm full of giddy energy just thinking about seeing them both again and making them proud. Both of them, but especially Keith. I've watched the whole show in my mind, trying to see it through his eyes. Will he think it's as funny as I do? Will he like the music? I think he will. I have a lot of faith in the show. But I recognize the part of me that's 15 years old working as hard as I can to show my director that I've got the "chops." Gorefest is for always for everybody. But tonight, this show is for Keith.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
* The stage is very rough and gritty to prevent slips. Unfortunately, that means that coming in contact with it, even intentionally, scrapes us up a bit.
** Keith is from Maine
*** With the exception of a Three Hole Punch show we did in Plymouth a few years ago.
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
Resignation in the Key C
Today I officially left my current job at Thacher*. As it turns out I can not sustain a model of working for thirteen to fourteen day stretches and work at Improv Asylum at night. It was hard enough before, but my increasingly demanding rehearsal and show schedule tipped my balance.
Because of how much I love teaching in general, and those kids and that school community in particular, I have arranged a new role for myself at Thacher. I will be going in for a month at a time on a volunteer basis and teaching after school improv and acting classes one or two days a week. Much more manageable.
The second half of the job, however, I have left off entirely. The school nurse position is just out of the question for me right now.
So if any RN out there is interested in a school nurse position, let me know. It's a great school, and I've already organized the office for you! **
-------------------------------------------------------------
* To a rousing chorus of "I told you so" from Robert Woo and sympathetic head nods from nicer people.
** I put all the epi-pens in one, easy-to-reach box, and hung up a poster up of "101 Things to Do Instead of Drugs." The sex ed stuff is under the computer desk. We have 22 ice packs.
Because of how much I love teaching in general, and those kids and that school community in particular, I have arranged a new role for myself at Thacher. I will be going in for a month at a time on a volunteer basis and teaching after school improv and acting classes one or two days a week. Much more manageable.
The second half of the job, however, I have left off entirely. The school nurse position is just out of the question for me right now.
So if any RN out there is interested in a school nurse position, let me know. It's a great school, and I've already organized the office for you! **
-------------------------------------------------------------
* To a rousing chorus of "I told you so" from Robert Woo and sympathetic head nods from nicer people.
** I put all the epi-pens in one, easy-to-reach box, and hung up a poster up of "101 Things to Do Instead of Drugs." The sex ed stuff is under the computer desk. We have 22 ice packs.
Saturday, February 7, 2009
Lord, what fools these mortals be!
The first show was wonderful. A few glitches, but everything was handled with the grace and professionalism I hoped for. I loved watching everyone's characters really come to life once they realized there was an audience out there.
"You did a great job holding it together when the audience laughed at your slapping Theseus," I told one girl.
"That wasn't me," she said with genuine wonder, "it was like it was Hippolyta doing all the work."
Students who had been mumbling now projected. Students who had been phoning it in really hammed it up. "They loved it when I got into it!" exclaimed the actress who played Helena. She had been too self conscious to act "dumb," in rehearsals, but once she got her first big laugh began flipping her hair and rolling her eyes to beat the band.
Eliciting laughter from a crowd is like magic, or like a drug. Once you realize you can do it you become hooked. This is always part of my dream for my students: that they understand how they can effect people with art (and specifically comedy), and that they strive to find new and interesting ways of doing it.
We're doing the show again Monday night at 6:30pm. You are all sincerely invited. That's how proud of this I am.
"You did a great job holding it together when the audience laughed at your slapping Theseus," I told one girl.
"That wasn't me," she said with genuine wonder, "it was like it was Hippolyta doing all the work."
Students who had been mumbling now projected. Students who had been phoning it in really hammed it up. "They loved it when I got into it!" exclaimed the actress who played Helena. She had been too self conscious to act "dumb," in rehearsals, but once she got her first big laugh began flipping her hair and rolling her eyes to beat the band.
Eliciting laughter from a crowd is like magic, or like a drug. Once you realize you can do it you become hooked. This is always part of my dream for my students: that they understand how they can effect people with art (and specifically comedy), and that they strive to find new and interesting ways of doing it.
We're doing the show again Monday night at 6:30pm. You are all sincerely invited. That's how proud of this I am.
Thursday, February 5, 2009
Show Time
* Apologies to anyone using Google Reader, I deleted a draft of this post but Google Reader published it anyway so you may be getting a repeat here.
Today was the first time we ran the entire play with music, costumes and a full cast. I'm pretty pleased with the results. The Upper Elementary students we pulled in this week to learn the non speaking fairy roles are great. The set pieces all came together, and we've transformed the gym into a woodland wonderland. I stayed late today to hang all the lights myself and to do the wiring for our ancient lighting board.
One of my favorite parts in the show is when Pyramus and Thisby die in the play within a play. Originally, just having gotten off of Gorefest, I promised the kids we could use blood packs for comedic effect. Realizing the floor of the gym was just redone, I later took it back but explained why red ribbons have the potential to be even funnier. They got it right away and watching P and T dramatically die with their red ribbons (Pyramus' forgotten in his pocket until he drags on his death too long and Quince has to enter and remind him to draw it; and Thisby's tucked inside the actor's mouth) kills me every time. (Hopefully their parents have a similar sense of humor.) Meanwhile, because I talked up the blood packs so much the Adolescents have now taken a keen interest in Gorefest and during downtime ask questions like "but what was the poop made of?" and "Can we audition next year?"
Everyone has grown completely into his or her role, and as hoped, the students have taken a lot of ownership over the show. They have ad libbed lines (yes it's Shakespeare, but we decided from the beginning that nothing was sacred), and added details to the show that make it their production as opposed to some cookie cutter junior high shakespeare pageant. I tried to showcase some of their other talents as well. For example, we have a piano covered in vines on stage for the whole show and the actress playing Egeus also plays a Fairy-type wizardly presence who provides music and seems to charm the audience to sleep and then rouses them when the night is through. One of the students has been filming rehearsals and told me he is preparing to make a DVD of the show with behind the scenes bonus features. He's twelve.
Bottom line is that these kids are all amazing. They have worked really, really hard over the past two months. I only see them twice a week and usually only in their own classroom. Over the past two weeks however, we have built a set and they have mastered the volume needed in Thacher's polished wooden gym. They look great in their costumes and they have every comedic moment in the show down pat, with room for vamping. The show goes up tomorrow and they are absolutely ready for it. So ready that I wish we had a longer run. Maybe we can take it on the road.
I've been extra tired without my normal days off from work, but it's all worth it. The show is going to be wonderful. These kids and their families have a lot to be proud of.
Today was the first time we ran the entire play with music, costumes and a full cast. I'm pretty pleased with the results. The Upper Elementary students we pulled in this week to learn the non speaking fairy roles are great. The set pieces all came together, and we've transformed the gym into a woodland wonderland. I stayed late today to hang all the lights myself and to do the wiring for our ancient lighting board.
One of my favorite parts in the show is when Pyramus and Thisby die in the play within a play. Originally, just having gotten off of Gorefest, I promised the kids we could use blood packs for comedic effect. Realizing the floor of the gym was just redone, I later took it back but explained why red ribbons have the potential to be even funnier. They got it right away and watching P and T dramatically die with their red ribbons (Pyramus' forgotten in his pocket until he drags on his death too long and Quince has to enter and remind him to draw it; and Thisby's tucked inside the actor's mouth) kills me every time. (Hopefully their parents have a similar sense of humor.) Meanwhile, because I talked up the blood packs so much the Adolescents have now taken a keen interest in Gorefest and during downtime ask questions like "but what was the poop made of?" and "Can we audition next year?"
Everyone has grown completely into his or her role, and as hoped, the students have taken a lot of ownership over the show. They have ad libbed lines (yes it's Shakespeare, but we decided from the beginning that nothing was sacred), and added details to the show that make it their production as opposed to some cookie cutter junior high shakespeare pageant. I tried to showcase some of their other talents as well. For example, we have a piano covered in vines on stage for the whole show and the actress playing Egeus also plays a Fairy-type wizardly presence who provides music and seems to charm the audience to sleep and then rouses them when the night is through. One of the students has been filming rehearsals and told me he is preparing to make a DVD of the show with behind the scenes bonus features. He's twelve.
Bottom line is that these kids are all amazing. They have worked really, really hard over the past two months. I only see them twice a week and usually only in their own classroom. Over the past two weeks however, we have built a set and they have mastered the volume needed in Thacher's polished wooden gym. They look great in their costumes and they have every comedic moment in the show down pat, with room for vamping. The show goes up tomorrow and they are absolutely ready for it. So ready that I wish we had a longer run. Maybe we can take it on the road.
I've been extra tired without my normal days off from work, but it's all worth it. The show is going to be wonderful. These kids and their families have a lot to be proud of.
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
Theater for the Homeless
I received this email today. If anyone would like to join me, I am off work this weekend and would love company.
The Factory Theatre in association with Holland Productions presents...
THE HALFWAY HOUSE CLUB by, Philana Gnatowski
....what happens to the broken hearted? For four mismatched strangers seeking mending, a halfway house promising a 14-step program provides hope. Through the walls that these cupid's rejects create and break in their one room sanctuary, an exploration of individual failures at love and how to reconnect through their flaws emerges. December 18 @ 8pm December 19th @ 8pm December 20th @ 2pm & 8pm
All proceeds to benefit BOSTON HEALTH CARE FOR THE HOMELESS
Tickets available now at: http://www.theatermania.com/boston/shows/the-halfway-house-club_150334/
For more information visit: www.thefactorytheatre.org
Boston Health Care for the Homeless Program has been managing the broken hearts and other physical ailments of Boston's homeless since 1985. They provide medical, mental health, and dental services to 11,000 homeless men, women, and children a year at over 80 different sites around Boston with clinics in the city's homeless shelters and three of its major hospitals. This summer, they moved into their new home Jean Yawkey Place, located a half mile from the Factory Theatre next to Boston Medical Center, and here they run their own halfway house for broken hearts, the Barbara McInnis House. The Barbara McInnis House is an inpatient medical facility with 104 beds that provides short-term medical and recuperative services for homeless people far too ill for life in shelters but not sick enough to warrant a hospital stay. In this way, the Barbara McInnis serves as a literal halfway house, a house for homeless persons halfway between the shelters or streets and the hospital. You can find more information about Boston Health Care for the Homeless Program at their website, www.bhchp.org.
The Factory Theatre in association with Holland Productions presents...
THE HALFWAY HOUSE CLUB by, Philana Gnatowski
....what happens to the broken hearted? For four mismatched strangers seeking mending, a halfway house promising a 14-step program provides hope. Through the walls that these cupid's rejects create and break in their one room sanctuary, an exploration of individual failures at love and how to reconnect through their flaws emerges. December 18 @ 8pm December 19th @ 8pm December 20th @ 2pm & 8pm
All proceeds to benefit BOSTON HEALTH CARE FOR THE HOMELESS
Tickets available now at: http://www.theatermania.com/boston/shows/the-halfway-house-club_150334/
For more information visit: www.thefactorytheatre.org
Boston Health Care for the Homeless Program has been managing the broken hearts and other physical ailments of Boston's homeless since 1985. They provide medical, mental health, and dental services to 11,000 homeless men, women, and children a year at over 80 different sites around Boston with clinics in the city's homeless shelters and three of its major hospitals. This summer, they moved into their new home Jean Yawkey Place, located a half mile from the Factory Theatre next to Boston Medical Center, and here they run their own halfway house for broken hearts, the Barbara McInnis House. The Barbara McInnis House is an inpatient medical facility with 104 beds that provides short-term medical and recuperative services for homeless people far too ill for life in shelters but not sick enough to warrant a hospital stay. In this way, the Barbara McInnis serves as a literal halfway house, a house for homeless persons halfway between the shelters or streets and the hospital. You can find more information about Boston Health Care for the Homeless Program at their website, www.bhchp.org.
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