THE UTTERLY TRUE TALE OF HOW IT BEGAN -

At the end of my first semester at Boston University I found myself stalking the hallowed halls of the School of Fine Arts. Summer was coming. Everybody was going. It seemed every student except myself had plans to exit for the break. I walked a circuit of the drama department, found lecturers buried in paperwork but no students. I tossed my empty iced coffee cup into the trash and took the lift to the Music floor (Opera Dept). No signs of life. But in the open lobby sat a grand piano for budding Maestro’s & Maestra’s to practise between studio sessions.

I had purchased a booklet titled something like -

CLASSICAL PIANO FOR ABSOULTE BEGINNERS

I had always wanted to learn piano. Now I planned to sneak in over the summer and teach myself.  I heard myself saying - How hard could it be?

So I fumbled through the opening bars of Morning from Peer Gynt (by Edvard Grieg) and was happy the divas were gone to avoid assaulting their ears. Then a notion entered my head. I had completed specialty training at the National Shakespeare Conservatory in NY (gone since 9/11) to focus on classics. I was a qualified theatrical fight choreographer. I could spend the summer drinking iced coffee and mastering Grieg’s lovely refrain or ... I had also won a scholarship to study Directing - so why not get off my ass and direct something?

Though I’d only been studying directing for one semester; though I didn’t have an extra cent to spend, all at once I began to contemplate mounting my first commercial production - Shakespeare of course.

I heard myself saying - How hard could it be?  Others heard me say that. Most offered the same reply - Imbecile!

And so with no funding to speak of, I decided I must find a sponsor. My mentor at BU (Jacques Cartier) had done something similar when he started a theatre in Hartford. Didn’t sound too difficult! I went to the Head of the Theatre Department (still on deck with a skeleton staff) declaring I had an epiphany to offer a show for the summer season - Shakespeare of course.

“Would the department back me in an independant commercial effort?"

“No!” He left no room for hoping I’d change his mind. “Summer in Boston’s a dead season for Theatre. Ballet, Opera OR Symphony yes, but not Theatre. Particularly not Shakespeare! The only specialist Shakespeare company hosted summer gigs for several seasons and FAILED! And they just announced they were now going dark for the summer.”

That didn’t sound promising. So I wandered away. Then like a tourist I distracted myself by climbing aboard one of those buses that take in the sights. May as well get to know more of the city I was still unfamiliar with. Our guide was an MIT post-grad student named Gabriel. Yes, like the angel. With a warm smile he pointed to an empty seat. Off we went. We passed the Hunting Theatre Company where BU put on its shows. I stared up at the massive billboard, emptied for the summer season. It looked forlorn. '

Then we arrived at Faneuil Hall Marketplace - my favourite spot on the waterfront. I liked waterfronts, they reminded me of home in Brisbane Australia. We have a lot of water there. I heard a crackle of static as Gabriel picked up his microphone. Then he announced something miraculous.

“This waterfront market is the most trafficked summer toruist destination in America save for Fisherman’s Wharf in San Francisco.” Interesting.

I heard myself asking quite loudly. “Why Gabriel?”

“Because everyone comes to Boston in the summer for a historic or cultural holiday. By day they tour the historical sights. By night they watch the Ballet and Opera and Symphony!”

Hmm. More interesting. I began to suspect the Shakespeare company going dark for the summer, was getting something terribly wrong - Marketing.

I hurried back to the Theatre Department with more information and a renewed sense of hope. I had also discovered by then that not every actor was leaving for the summer. What’s more the very pretty receptionist in the Theatre Dept expressed interest in helping me produce my first masterpiece! I knocked on the Head of Department’s door.

“NO!”

Hmm. I wandered back to the elevator doors. Two opened together - the right heading down, the left heading up. I could go down and leave or go up to Music. A charismatic woman stood staring at me from inside the left.

“Are you coming Up?”

She seemed a little impatient. I smiled and sighed.

“May as well drown my sorrows with an epic assault on Peer Gynt!’

She rolled her eyes. “So you’re the culprit?”

“Am I ?”

“I knew we hadn’t recruited anyone so bereft of skill. Only an English actor could inflict so much damage on that perfunctory piece.”

“Well then … I am the culprit. Sorry. But clever woman, you’re wrong on two counts. I’m Australian not English. And I was an actor. Now I’m a director.”

She pouted and glared. “I stand corrected.”

‘I stopped playing when I had a notion to produce a show for the summer.’

“Ah! Thank Heaven then for small mercies.” She almost smiled. ‘Very enterprising.’

‘I thought so too. But now that’s all gone. So I’m back.’

Pressing her lips she frowned in thought.

“A show? What were you hoping to put on?”

“Nothing too ambitious … just Romeo & Juliet.”

“Dear God!” Now she did smile. “Are all Australian's so ambitious?”

“Just every other one.”

'“Hmm. R&J? But … that is my favourite. And I take it the Head of Theatre said no?”

“Twice. And he explained what a dunderhead I was to even contemplate such a thing.”

‘Did you think to ask Phyllis Curtin the Head of Opera? I know she has money to fund something for the Summer.’

“She’s not gone for the Summer?”

“She’s standing in front of you.” My eyes tilted to Heaven. “So come along dunderhead. And keep away from my piano.”

Thus aided by the enigmatic Dean Curtin (may her lovely soul forever rest in peace) that production of R&J was not only a sellout, the founder of that fatigued Shakespeare company in Boston heard about our show and came to see me. Next season she launched a new summer stint which was a great success. No, I didn’t participate. But it was during my preparation for that Romeo & Juliet that I had another notion - the idea for a prequel that would reveal how the famous families came to be at each others throats.

And so … many years later I now offer you CAPULET.

I have loved writing it.

I hope you love reading it.

Forever yours

Marcus Hogan