A few final observations of the 36th annual Humana Festival of New Plays.
• The festival’s sponsor, the Humana health insurance company, got thanked a lot, and deservedly so, not just for the level of their support but for the length and breadth of it—one of the longest and neatest bondings in the regional theater. So I thought it noteworthy that my own two favorite productions in this year’s festival, Death Tax and Eat Your Heart Out, involved hospitals and healthcare.
• NY Public Theater poobah Oskar Eustis showed up sometime Saturday, and was in the audience Sunday to see Mona Mansour’s The Hour of Feeling, which the Public had done a reading of in 2009. By Saturday, those of us who’d been part of the industry weekend since Thursday were used to the same old faces, so Eustis’ appearance was something fresh to buzz about. But, honestly, whenever the guy arrives anywhere—my own away-from-NY glimpses of him include a party for Gordon Edelstein’s 10th anniversary as Artistic Director of Long Wharf, the opening night of the musical February House at Long Wharf Stage II (the show’s a co-production with the Public), the Radar L.A. festival last summer and now Humana—there always seems to be a chorus of mutterers in the crowd: “Why, it’s Oskar Eustis! That’s Oskar Eustis over there.” It’s the regional theater brand of celebrity sighting, and I’m all for it.
• One of my interests in coming to Humana was to see if it felt different from the various new-play gatherings I’ve covered in Connecticut over the past quarter-century. All have their quirks (there’s just no other place on Earth like the lawn of the Eugene O’Neill Center), but there was so much that was familiar about this experience. Every one of the nine-plus shows I saw had at least one actor I recognized from East Coast regional theater or the Yale School of Drama—the talent pool is more national than I knew. The productions mirrored high-end presentations of new plays I’ve seen regularly in New Haven, though Humana really raises the bar by doing so many at one time.
• The physical resources that Actors Theatre has at its disposal are impressive, but what had me reeling was the army of human beings who throw heart and soul into this endeavor. Warm, high-spirited, Southern-hospitable theater-savvy folks all. The 20- and 30somethings in the ATL apprenticeship program—who work on various aspects of the Humana Festival for nearly a year and may be running tech on one show, performing in another and helping with front-of-house duties as well—seem to be getting and broad and real a hands-on education in the workings of professional theater as one could find anywhere (and I write as one covers the gold standard of such an education, The Yale School of Drama).
• There a central panel discussion on Friday about Criticism, its role in the theater and the changes in that profession due to the decline of print journalism. An undercurrent from that discussion persisted throughout the entire festival, rising into fresh debates at the unlikeliest (and likeliest) places. Rest assured that some of us ink-stained wretches are brainstorming ways to assure that Humana will be covered extensively and competently in future. The festival could well become a center for new models on national arts journalism. At the very least, it’s inspired worthy debate.
• I was struck by how Humana is a thing unto itself, even in its own headquarters and press office. I looked in vain for posters or brochures advertising Actors Theatre of Louisville’s year-round subscription season. When I finally asked, an ATL staffer dug some brochures from last season out of an office. The idea of cross-promoting the various facets of the theater isn’t a given. The Humana behaves as a separate entity. The year-round season was derided by some I asked as “commercial” and “mainstream,” and that’s certainly true of its perennial productions of A Christmas Carol and Dracula. But the 2012-13 slate of Romeo and Juliet, Long Day’s Journey Into Night, True West, Matthew Lopez’s The Whipping Man and a new musical based on Matthew Sweet’s power-pop album Girlfriend is nothing to sniff at.
• Speaking of sniffing, I ate several entire meals which consisted of nothing but cream-based appetizers, and I’m lactose-intolerant. There are things in the Louisville air which made my nose run like nothing my hay-feverish nose has ever encountered in a concrete city. I had a sore throat for my entire time in Kentucky, and was told it was a common disorder there.
Then there was the sniffling and gulping and stuck-in-throat emotional feelings I had at the better shows.
All told, it’s good that I got back to New Haven. I can breathe again.