Quick Q&A: August Schulenburg

I talked with August Schulenburg, the Artistic Director of the award-winning Flux Theatre Ensemble and the playwright of the highly recommended The Lesser Seductions of History, currently performing at The Cherry Pit.

When did you know you wanted to spend your life making theatre?

I knew I wanted to do theatre before I knew I wanted to be a playwright. I was in the fifth grade: same old story, I was in a play and it went well. You know that thing when someone comes off the stage and even if they are your friend you see that they still have that glow and that magic is still in their eyes? That’s very powerful if you’re a kid with adults looking at you. Writing came out of a dark period in college of not finding my way. I stopped drinking, started writing and haven’t stopped.

Why did you choose to write this play about the 1960’s?

I’ve always been fascinated with the decade. It seems like a time when something really shifted in our country’s culture: things became possible that weren’t possible before, though at great cost. In some ways those debates really never got resolved. During Obama’s campaign I was struck by this hopefulness and sense of shared purpose from people who supported him. I was really attracted to it and the seductive clarity that says “what we’re doing is right and we’re going to change the world”. But I couldn’t help also being cautious. It’s hard for me not to see 8 sides to everything.

That reminds me of something that John Patrick Shanley once said, about writers typically having multiple perspectives. Why do you think that is?

Essentially it’s empathy. I think one of the reasons that theatre evolved as such a part of human history is because empathy is something that is essential to our survival. It may sound ambitious to say that theatre is essential for survival, but I do believe it is the most effective way to create empathy in people. It becomes even more important in a culture where people are put into categories so they can be dismissed. Writers have developed that capacity for empathy and for giving it expression.

photos: Tyler Griffin Hicks-Wright

What would you say are the cultural antecedents of this play?

I think a big one is Our Town; the production by David Cromer had a really big impact on me. I began writing during our August retreat in 2008 and Kelly O’Donnell, who plays Tegan in the show, actually brought in Our Town for us to read. We elected not to do it which turned out to be a very good decision since that brilliant production happened soon after. By the time I saw it I had more or less already written this play, but that production emboldened me to go a little bit further in terms of how little I needed in order to accomplish things. Also, it freed me up to be a little more direct.

The real challenge of rewriting was making it lean. When characters are interesting they want to keep talking and doing things so you have to bring them under control, to reign them in and make sure the arc of the play is being served. That’s especially important in this play with 10 characters who all need to be balanced. I read recently that people watch on average 4 hours of TV a day. I think it means we’ve become really good at story, and it gives writers a lot of freedom to trust the audience. You don’t have to belabor anything. This play is a test of that – how much information could I get across quickly without overwhelming the audience?

What is the biggest risk this play takes?

It’s a very personal play to me because it’s a struggle that I really feel in my life, a sense of needing to have purpose. Working in the theatre there’s always this question – given the size of the audience, given the possible impact, is what you’re doing worth it? It’s such a struggle to make good theatre. Even in the best circumstances with the best actors and a great script it still may not come together. You spend a lot of time and energy on something that is uncertain. The questions the characters are asking are the ones I am asking, so that felt risky to me. A risk I didn’t anticipate is that the (narrator) character of One is so powerful in the play that people think she is my voice and what I think, but it isn’t. She’s more my demon that says you aren’t doing enough and you need to work harder.

Have you been taking the work home with you, as your director Heather Cohn is also your partner?

On the one hand it can be a little ridiculous having production meetings at 2 AM. On the other it’s really great. One of the things that the people in the play struggle with is that they can either have a loving relationship or devote themselves to a cause. It’s not necessarily what I believe. It is really hard to maintain relationships with a career in the theater. I’m lucky that my partner in this cause, in this passion and this purpose, is my partner in life.

What is the one thing you would never want a Flux production to be?

I would never want to not be able to create hope. I’m not interested in theatre that is about confusing the audience, or just being clever or shoving ugliness in the audience’s face. I’m interested in giving a sense of hope but only if it’s earned. It’s so hard to make theatre; I would never want to do a play that I didn’t think could matter to the audience.

What is the hardest thing about making theatre?

It can sometimes feel like all you’re doing is solving problems. It’s hard to step back and look at what you’re doing, why you’re doing it and who you’re doing it with. The company’s retreats have been amazing for us – even though we’re only 3 and a half years old the retreats have allowed us to be even older than that, if you see what I mean. Both aesthetically and core value wise we’ve been able to really challenge each other and ask the tough questions. If you intend to keep working with the same people you need the space to hash things out because otherwise it will come out in process and the process will be derailed.

Have you seen a change since you started 3 and a half years ago?

I’ve been thinking a lot about that recently. We are entering a time when nobody knows how theatre is going to work, how audiences and artists are going to be brought together and what role critics will play. In a way the relationships we’ve formed with some of the online critics are more meaningful than how I think the critic-artist relationship has been in the past when it was only about marketing. Sure, I would love for us to get more print media to come see our work…

Is someone going to come from The Times?

No. We had more high-profile press for Pretty Theft but ticket sales have been better for The Lesser Seductions of History. I think that’s partly because of the relationships we’ve formed. We value the audience and what they’re saying – on our blog we have a space for audience to post their reactions to the show. We engage as a group about other people’s shows and not just our own. We read reviews rather than look to them for pull quotes. Ultimately, I wouldn’t want to work any other way.

Would you share a piece of feedback about the play that has been meaningful to you?

After the first performance a woman came up to me who was visibly very moved. She said that when she heard one of the lines – “to think less about your own happiness and make the world better” – it just struck her and she burst into tears. There are people for whom these questions are visceral and when those people see it the play has a meaningful effect. That’s definitely the most exciting kind of response.