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Theatreworks NM earns a white star with SCOTLAND ROAD

review by Kristi Petersen Schoonover

Robert Ballard’s 1985 discovery of the Titanic wreck promised answers to many questions about that horrific night in April of 1912. What it failed to remind us is that sometimes, when we get those answers, they may not be the ones we want.

This is the crux of Jeffrey Hatcher’s 1992 play Scotland Road—originally produced in Cincinnati and New York City—running now through mid-October in a solid production at Connecticut’s Theatreworks New Milford.

Set nearly a century after Titanic’s sinking, Scotland Road embarks when a woman in Edwardian-era clothing is discovered clinging on a North Atlantic iceberg—and the only word she can utter is Titanic. A wealthy skeptic and a doctor descend to determine her true origin, skirting their ethics in an attempt to gain their answers. To disclose more than that would be spoiling it.

The “ship of dreams” is the big draw here—she’s captivated the world since she sank—but Scotland Road isn’t exclusively for Titanic buffs. Part psychological drama, part mystery, part ghostly tale, this gripping Read the rest of this entry

Let It Snow…


Snow. It can drive a person mad.

Snow! I luckily missed the [non-blizzard for my area just north of NYC] Juno because I was down in Walt Disney World, but I didn’t miss this one! Luckily, a friend of mine from around the local theater community (more specifically, TheatreWorks New Milford) has a wicked sense of humor and cooked this up just in time. I couldn’t resist sharing it. Snowbound or Snowbird, you’re sure to get a chuckle out of it! Enjoy!

Watch SNOW here:



The Power of Setting

Gillette Castle 16 - View of Castle from path

A view of Gillette castle from the path.

I’ve just finished stage managing a production of Ken Ludwig’s The Game’s Afoot or Holmes for the Holidays at Theatreworks New Milford in Connecticut. This murder mystery is set in Gillette Castle, which was the real-life home of William Gillette (who brought Sherlock Holmes to the stage) in nearby East Haddam.

It’s open to the public, so some of the cast and crew field tripped it. Our experience walking through the rooms brought a new level of realism to our performance; at the castle, we could see where the scenes take place; on the set, we could imagine the true backdrop as we worked.

Writers want to do the same for readers — we want to bring the world alive for them; make it three-dimensional and real. While it’s often noted the secret to success in this area is the use of the five senses, I find it’s more specific than that. Here are the five keys to creating a vivid setting (in no particular order): Read the rest of this entry

What you missed on NaNoWriMo2013: The Series this week!

One More Butt

Halloween at the cemetery, an action-packed trip to NYC, a tip from a dead writer, a surprise cocktail invitation, laundry, interruptions, a cat sleeping on the cable box and emotional ups and downs. Plus, shout-outs to buddies who are makin’ it—or havin’ a hard time…and oh yeah, and some bottles of wine that clearly won’t be making it to AnthoCon this weekend. Enjoy!

All NaNo’s Eve: 11/01/2013

Day 1 – I Hate My Project: 11/03/2013

Day 2 – Starting Over: 11/03/2013

Day 3 – Cocktails 1, Kristi 0: 11/04/2013

Day 4 – Real Life Intrusion: 11/04/2013

Day 5 – Eight Bottles: 11/05/2013

Day 6 – When You’re Not Looking: 11/06/2013

Day 7 – Under Pressure: 11/08/2013


The cover of the program for TheatreWorks New Milford’s production of The Great American Trailer Park Musical.

The ticket. I attended the run’s final performance.

Several months ago, I wrote a short piece about the persistence of electronic media and how it helps us cope with loss (“Yes, Cynthia, There Is an Afterlife,” January 30, 2011: How a person who has passed away can remain with us, in a sense, because of the way in which we can preserve them on Facebook, Twitter, blogs, photos, and videos.

The crowd I run with is—no surprise—very creative. What comes with that is a certain heightened awareness—we have to reflect the world around us, whether in words or brushstrokes or dance steps or clay—and so we just, I think, tend to be observant.

This is where signs come in.

You know what kind of signs I’m talking about—the ones that confirm, portend, remind, or even forewarn. I have a—ahemnot nice ex whom I always know is going to turn up like the bad penny he is in one way or another, because it never fails, shortly before he does I see his name—not a common one—three times in odd places. Whenever unexpected money’s about to come my way, my right palm itches (it appears this old wives’ tale really is true). Because I do believe in an afterlife, I feel that the spirit of my late Dad is around me when I get three or more random references to Robert Frost (I’m talking about in the most unexpected places, like the line at the grocery store or a commercial on TV).

My late friend Cyn, who lived in Texarkana, Arkansas, passed away in December (as you already know). We had always joked around about my going to visit her. “Why in God’s name would you wanna come down here?” She’d say to me. “I mean, vacationing in Texarkana? What the hell is wrong with you?”

I’d explain that, besides the fact that she lived there, I’d had a fascination with that region and nearby Fouke due to 1972’s The Legend of Boggy Creek, which was set in that area and had terrified me as a child. She’d even bought a copy on DVD so we could watch it together when I visited, and she was saving it for that occasion. As far as I know, though, she never watched it. One of the things I regret was the fact that I never did make that road trip to Texarkana.

Earlier this summer, I went to see a musical up at TheatreWorks New Milford called The Great American Trailer Park Musical. For some reason, Cyn was on my mind, and I wasn’t sure why—it wasn’t the anniversary of her visit or her death or anything like that; thinking about her all of the sudden had just seemed sort of random.

Then, at the top of Act II, during a number called “Road Kill”—in which one of the characters sits on a motorcycle and to convey the feeling that he’s traveling across state lines actresses and stage hands sprint across the stage with road signs—I spotted this prop:

One of the road signs in the musical number “Road Kill” in TheatreWorks New Milford’s production of The Great American Trailer Park Musical.

Okay, yes, it’s misspelled—but that isn’t the point. The point was it was just so odd that they’d pick that tiny little town—where Cyn, about whom I’d just been thinking, lived—and make a sign out of it. Of course, I saw the show’s closing performance, so I asked if I could have the prop since I knew they were probably just going to toss it (I have had a long, long history in community theatre in this area in many capacities, so I know a lot of people).

My long-time friend Suzi Pettibone—theatre buddy going way back—and I drinking cocktails before the show.

Do I think Cyn was trying to tell me something from beyond? Who knows, but it sure was a comfort to think so. Meanwhile? I have a nice sign—that really is just a sign—on my wall.

Flamingo prop outside the theatre.

Me and the sign on my back porch. Notice the flamingo glass.

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