Mike Mariano

New to the site is an updated version of Wish Fulfillment!

This is all thanks to Brooklyn College MFA dramaturgs Jen Leeson and Martina Weber for selecting my play for a December reading in New York. About half of Wish Fulfillment (the half without the character of Mom) was read alongside other plays for the MFA class.

Based on discussions with Jen and Martina, and through rewriting before and after the reading, I made some major revisions to the play. Nearly every line has been revised in some way—I never do that!

The biggest change is that the character of Kevin is gone. He’s replaced by Oprah! (sort of) I have also tried to tone down some of David’s whining and Mom’s faulty logic.

And because I never learn my lesson, I have added Stevie Wonder lyrics to the dialogue. Rock on!

I’d also like to thank actors Russ Feder (David), Glen Urieta (Genie), and William DeMerritt (Roger) for a terrific job; they got a really enthusiastic audience response. I wasn’t quite sure if any audience would be able to understand the Genie’s casual world-changing, especially one that didn’t even see the beginning of the play. But Russ, Glen, and Bill made their scenes plausible and exciting.

Coincidentally, Bill is now touring with McCarter’s production of The Arabian Nights. More genies!

Karen McKevitt of Staged Readings (and not Stage Dreadings, as the URL appeared to me) points out the absurd, distracting nature of pre-show announcements.

She’s right. Anything that the audience experiences before, during, and after the action of any play becomes part of the performance. The same rule applies in an ad-saturated multiplex or a concert at a cramped bar. The last thing a night at the theatre should feel like is flying on a passenger jet.

One thing I enjoyed about my workplace’s production of Hamlet was that its pre-show announcement came very pre-show. A brief list of pre-recorded reminders was played, ten minutes went by, and then the performance started. It separated the laundry list of audience duties from the experience of being an audience member. And that voice-of-God moment hopefully got people in their seats faster—it was nearly three hours.

Through the benevolence of Nancy V. I saw Dirty Rotten Scoundrels this Tuesday. I sat down, the lights dimmed, and the voice of Jonathan Pryce called out:

May I have your attention please. At this performance of Dirty Rotten Scoundrels, there will be no pre-show announcement.

Very humorous. And completely lacking in fire safety information. I suppose we all risked burning to death in ignorance that night, but for a cheap laugh, it’s worth it.

Sorry Jason; sorry Sheila: Howard Kissel’s New York Daily News review of Red Light Winter is fair and on point. I’ve seen the show, so let me add: Lisa Joyce looks very pretty when she’s being raped.

That’s an awful thing to say! But who is the director who treats the first act like one long strip tease? Who is the writer who makes Joyce’s implausible character (out of all her pseudonyms “the whore” is the most accurate and the most polite) a laughingstock—especially in her final moments? Jason, in Sheila’s comments, answers his own question:

Has Adam Rapp gone over to the dark side of creepy he-man-woman-hater playwrights?

Has he ever!

More importantly, Red Light Winter give us some penis! Christopher Denham’s penis! Since no one else wants to objectify him, I guess it’s up to me.

Denham does have a very beautiful penis. He’s cut with a bulbous head. Really bulbous! It’s like he’s swinging around a golf ball on the end of that thing!

Unfortunately, we only get to see him partly aroused, not erect. I don’t know if that’s entirely in character, but it’s certainly part of the staging. Boring; I’m sick of seeing flaccid penises on stage!

And even at half-mast, it’s obvious that Denham has a much bigger penis than…other skinny white guys with bad facial hair….

But here’s the thing: right after Denham reveals his equipment, the play shows his character to be extremely bad in bed. Unrealistically bad—if he wasn’t erect when he got on that bed, how can he be finished already? Whatever you think of Denham’s naked body, in terms of the plot he’s being offered up for ridicule.

It isn’t like the rest of the play is charitable, either: Red Light Winter sees Denham huddled in a corner, looking ridiculous for an entire act—until it’s time to whip out his massive johnson. Similarly, the play makes Joyce look ridiculous each time she opens her mouth; it’s just different lies in different accents. At least when she’s naked she doesn’t talk.

Yes, their acting talents are wasted by Red Light Winter. But nothing can take away from their natural endowments. Denham, Joyce: shake what your mammas gave you.