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Director has faith in theater lovers
Director David El’Hatton’s play was the first casualty.
As director of the postponed Youngstown Playhouse productions of “And Then There Were None” and “Charlie and the Chocolate Factory,” David El’Hatton took the recent news harder than most. He got the news less than two weeks before “And Then” was set to open. The Vindicator asked El’Hatton about how the news affected him. Here are his responses:
Q. How did you react to the news?
A. My initial reaction was pretty calm and matter of fact. It wasn’t like this pendulum hadn’t been swinging over our heads for years now. It was only after I walked around the building and saw everyone’s faces that it really hit me. There was just this sense of desperation and loss that made everything seem colder and darker somehow.
It probably took a few hours to process the gravity and implications of the situation. One never wants to think that all of their hard work is in vain. Yet as the hours ticked by, that became more and more evident. It was much the same feeling one would get after dropping a priceless Ming vase and watching it shatter in a million pieces.
Q. How does the current Playhouse situation personally affect you?
A. As an actor and director, it doesn’t impact me nearly as much as it does full-time staffers like Pat Petaccio, Candy Dilullo, John Pecano, Jim Lybarger, Pat Fagan and, of course, John Holt. They’re the ones I’m most concerned about. For me it just leaves a huge hole in my life. All of the time and preparation I’ve put into the current shows have gone up in smoke. The next six weeks that I’ve been scheduling my life around now seem directionless and almost pointless.
I want to go to rehearsal tonight. I want to work on the lighting design for “And Then There Were None.” I want to teach my Oompa Loompas in “Charlie and the Chocolate Factory” how to act like Oompa Loompas. I want to feel that sickening tension that builds in a director’s stomach when you realize you’re nine days from opening and you’d really like to have another month. I want that more than anything right now.
I was in the Playhouse production of “Carousel” that ended the 2004 season. At the time, it seemed highly unlikely that the Playhouse would survive. Fortunately, Jack Ballantyne organized the Save Our Stage committee and that was averted. But part of me can’t help feeling that way again. I’d hate to think that when we walked offstage after the final performance of “Company” that it would be our final bow.
Q. What was it like having to break the news to the casts of both your shows?
A. When I told them there was a myriad of reactions. Some of the younger members of the Playhouse family went into “How do we fix it?” mode. But the older group who have known the plight of the Playhouse for years all got very somber. Tears were shed, even though we knew that everything will be done to reopen in the spring.
When you pour your heart and soul into a character, it becomes a part of you. And to realize that these characters had died without ever seeing the light of stage was very tough, especially considering that we were so close to opening night. It feels like a bad breakup with someone you’ve dated for a long time. You still have the lines floating around in your head. You still laugh when you remember something somebody did at rehearsal. I keep thinking of new ideas for scenes that I can’t use now. But the show is rescheduled for next summer, so I promise that all of these dancing thoughts won’t be forgotten. When the cast and I get another crack at this thing, we’re going to knock it out of the park.
As for “Charlie,” we found out about the closing literally hours before our first rehearsal. That was particularly heartbreaking because the younger kids were super excited about getting cast in a show. Many of them were just crushed because they’d been so looking forward to the experience.
Q. What does all of this mean for Youngstown community theater in general?
A. A lot. I think the first thing it signifies is that theater in Youngstown might only be able to survive on a smaller scale. Places like the Oakland, Top Hat or the Vic (Victorian Players) will be able to survive because their overhead is so much lower. Being able to go out and see a big-scale production like the Playhouse has been doing might be a thing of the past. It has just gotten so expensive to maintain a building of that size. Therefore, the only places that can maintain their commercial viability are smaller, 100-seat theaters. Not that the quality of the shows are any less, but they simply can’t provide the “grand spectacle” that appeals to many theatergoers. ... This crisis will open a lot of people’s eyes. There are thousands of passionate theater fans out there. And now, maybe, they’ll see that for theaters to survive, more active support is necessary.