By Carlos Suarez De Jesus
By Ric Delgado
By John Thomason
By Benjy Caplan
By Artburst Miami
By June 28, the end of its third season, City Theatre's Summer Shorts festival will have put on 48 new plays on its main stage, about three times the number of productions from your average professional company. In fact, as you read this, fifteen premieres of black-out sketches, comic monologues, and oddball slices of life are unfolding in rapid succession in the University of Miami's Ring Theatre. Those works tackle death, baseball, and airline reservations, among other subjects. (There's even an edgy reworking of The Taming of the Shrew). Each weekend the festival sells dozens of picnic dinners to shorts-clad theatergoers who want to eat pasta between programs. But, in the end, how will City Theatre's 1998 season be remembered? Call it the year that festival producers turned down plays by Tony Kushner and Christopher Durang.
Not that the festival producers aren't looking for big names. In place of works by the illustrious playwrights of Angels in America and The Marriage of Bette and Boo, this year's roster features short plays -- clocking in at five to twenty minutes -- by veteran playwright Michael Weller (Moonchildren); Obie winner and TV writer Jose Rivera (Eerie, Indiana); and Neena Beber, a Miami native and Humana Festival participant whose latest output includes scripts for the hip animated MTV sitcom Daria.
What's happened over the past three summers, says Westchester, New York-based playwright Staci Swedeen -- whose comedy Final Fitting is the third of her works produced by Summer Shorts -- is that word of mouth about the theater festival in Coral Gables has spread. "If you talk to [the producers]," she says, "the first year they were saying, 'Please send us something.' Now, they're inundated." Indeed, the number of submissions has grown from about 300 in 1996 to more than 500 this year. (Almost 50 works have already been submitted for next year's season.)
This year's windfall includes the drama If Susan Smith Could Talk by Elaine Romero, a recent recipient of the TCG/Pew National Theatre Arts fellowship, and a play by Adam Goldberg and Ben Zelivanksy, a comedy team whose credits include participation in the Sundance Playwrights Lab (Goldberg) and a stint writing for Late Night with David Letterman (Zelivansky).
City Theatre got its start in 1996 when playwright Susan Westfall, Colony Theater manager Stephanie Norman, and actor-director Elena Wohl wanted an alternative to the strictures of working in a conventional setting. "We didn't want to get locked into a season or a space. We wanted our mission to be the discovery of new work and a new audience," says Norman. The trio -- freelance director Gail Garrisan came aboard as artistic director last year, after Wohl departed -- enlists the University of Miami theater department, along with a phalanx of South Florida actors, directors, and technical people, all of whom get together for four weeks each summer to produce a passel of these tiny but fully staged plays.
Why short plays? Originally City Theatre wanted to showcase as many world and Florida premieres as it could in a limited period. By happy coincidence -- which was then enhanced by keen marketing savvy -- the group found itself in the middle of a craze for ten-minute plays. "It's a national trend," says playwright Swedeen. "It's a way that writers get to work and actors get to work, and audiences love it."
Most pundits point to the success of the 10-minute Play Festival, done by Louisville's Actors Theatre, as the starting point for the shorts trend. Rivera, whose play Cloud Tectonics is now at the New Theatre, concurs. "Since the Louisville festival is at such a prominent theater, [the 10-minute idea] catches on," he says. New York's Ensemble Theatre, Los Angeles's MET Theatre, and Washington, D.C.'s Source Theatre are just a few places that also offer one-act or shorts festivals.
"People seem interested in the form right now," says playwright Beber. "I don't know if it's shorter attention spans or the variety they provide." Noting that shorts are popular with playwrights, too, Beber points out, "There's something very economical about the form. They're fun to write." For one thing, "it's more like a poem. You don't have to sustain it."
Rivera agrees, adding, "Sketch comedy is big in this country because of Saturday Night Live and In Living Color. One-acts come from a long tradition." Not all the works in Summer Shorts are comic, notes Rivera, who also likes the writing challenge associated with pint-size plays. He says they have writers asking themselves: "'Can I tell a full story in ten minutes? Can I demonstrate the depth of character?' It forces you to use muscles you wouldn't use [in a longer piece]."
As short plays earn more cachet, and as City Theatre is able to get choosier each year, playwrights are starting to look at the festival as a legitimate outfit. "What's interesting," says Norman, "is that the playwrights are starting to get us. A lot of their plays have an initial life at the Actors Theatre [in Louisville]. Then they have a half-life as staged readings. When these playwrights come in from New York and Los Angeles and Chicago, they see what we do and that we're not in a storefront. These are [productions with] Equity actors. [The playwrights] get a royalty, not only when we do it in the theater but when we take it to the schools. And what happens is they start sending us stuff."