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Bus One Seven
Boiling Point
: An interview with Slice co-author Jeremy French
by Roderick Armageddon

 

In an effort to set up this piece as effectively as possible, let it be known that I’ve been hearing about Jeremy’s and Ian’s show for quite some time. For one reason or another, this interesting, unassuming duo has somehow managed to capture my attention with even the slightest mention of their yet-to-be-produced masterpiece. In its broadest description, their creation is not a play, symphony, opera or dance piece, yet even without a single storyboard, the show (called Slice) is nevertheless as clear and precise as an engineer’s schematic. They tell me that in the most basic terms possible, Slice is a "symphony for the senses."

Meeting over coffee on a dreary Portland afternoon, I sat down with Slice creator and co-writer Jeremy Towsey-French to chat about the birth of Slice. Here’s an excerpt from our conversation:

R: Aside from being a rich theatrical experiment, what’s the common theme driving the situations and characters in Slice?

J: So you’re looking for the Cliffs Notes, eh? Slice is really the aural/visual offspring of synchronicity. It’s a collection of random scenes and character situations created by the unyielding pressure of human existence.

R: After my initial discussion with you and Ian (Ian Berry — Slice co-writer) earlier, and after reading an excerpt of the script, it’s evident that this show is driven by the belief that when faced with the ever-expanding crush of existence, people don’t just simply break down and turn to wielding firearms against unsuspecting victims. You’re basically exploring a hidden avenue for frustration. Am I on the right path here?

J: Indeed you are. Ian and I are suggesting that for a select group of people, their reaction to this daily pressure cooker is a powerful, creative explosion of human emotion and expression turned upside down. The major difference that Slice showcases is that this expression often goes unnoticed or is shared only with a select few. This distinctively human reaction manifests itself in a completely unique manner, different from anything you’d assume it would -- or even realize it could. Slice peels away layer after layer of simple human experiences and interactions, exposing the living, breathing, bleeding core, a core that’s boiling over with a rich subtext communicated by an exhilarating soundtrack of music and dance.

R: So, Slice was born from the fire of existence? Even the scene you gave to me seems to impart a vivid sense of release and oppressed feelings, displaying itself in dance. I’m particularly interested in the fact your characters never acknowledge one another’s angst.

J: Precisely. A lot of Slice is about the pain of human existence. Often that pain is experienced in unison, yet we cope with it alone. Slice is about our reaction to that pain. For some of us, it’s the whip that drives us to our maximum creative capacity. For others, it’s merely the whip that drives them down. Slice celebrates the spirit of human creation and its unwillingness to be oppressed. Slice also champions and exposes the hidden expression, games and characters that haunt every single hour of our existence. I’ve always wanted to take others on a trip inside human emotion; I just never imagined it would happen out of frustrations. In that particular scene (Transit King), the characters are unable and unwilling to break with that last bastion of human behavior —- the unwillingness to accept strangers. They both reveal themselves and in fact end up interacting in their expression. Yet, they fail to ever truly "click," finally reassuming their positions as cogs in the wheel, but better prepared to deal with another day.

R: Music is an integral element to your storytelling, not just background noise. With the complexity of original songwriting and production, how are you going to make this production happen?

J: First of all, we haven’t established a firm timeline for production, but I’m producing the initial music now. Music composition and production for Slice is an entirely experimental journey in sampling and original writing. As you already know, the current iteration of Slice takes place somewhere in the South, sometime in the late 1970s, so our music reflects the era as well as the characters’ internal dialogue. Our music is an inviting yet chilled blend of haunting lyrics and melodies from a virtual who’s -who of country and western storytellers, like Conway Twitty, George Jones and Jim Reeves.

R: Alright, I’m intrigued. How does one perform any enlightening or provocative dance to the tune of "Stand by your Man"?

J: As the music is produced entirely in-house, from composition to final edit and burn, our current progress reflects a complex but extremely captivating combination of new and old. Imagine Bjork’s producers getting together with Massive Attack and holding an electronic jam session with Johnny Cash and Marty Robbins. The sound is ethereal —- partly electronic, partly symphonic, partly twanging slide guitar, entirely captivating. I can only hope that I’m approaching musical composition the same way Craig Armstrong did for Baz Luhrmann’s Moulin Rouge. If I’m anywhere near the same wavelength, I know we’ll paint a musical landscape that’s engaging enough to stand on its own.

R: What’s been your biggest non-technical challenge?

J: The script. The script is action and the action is imagination. To build your imagination is always difficult. To write it down is even more challenging. It’s an odd mix of screenwriting and playwriting, with a healthy dose of director’s notes. Add to this the fact that a good deal of the show will most likely change dramatically from the first draft. Yet we still want to capture the changes on paper.

R: I know it’s pretty early in the process, but do you have any regrets about the show?

J: No regrets. I just laugh whenever I think about why I didn’t do this sooner.

Jeremy was kind enough to allow Anvil to publish the scene we referenced in our discussion. This should give you a taste of how he transcribes his visual imagination, thinking and writing through the eyes of creator, actor, musician and director:

Scene: "Transit King"

Set: bus stop bench

Sound: traffic noise —- limited —- passing cars, distant voices, distant white noise

Lights: light overhead —- simulating streetlight/house black

Sound slowly increases in volume as lights rise

Mark enters from stage left, duffel bag in hand, looking fragile, slightly perturbed and obviously reflecting on something.

Mark stares straight into the fourth wall -— gaining intensity in his stoic gaze.

Sound continues to build as inner frustration, concentration and angst evidently consume Mark. His gaze continues through the fourth wall. *The bus might be late, or perhaps children are making fun of him from across the street, maybe his girlfriend/boyfriend broke up with him — we don’t know and don’t need to know. You get the picture.

Man walks in from right —- briefcase in hand and disheveled. Staring intensely down toward the ground, this man is also angst-ridden.

Sound builds to a feverish pitch, as both characters stand side-by-side deep in thought. Sound begins to mix with music: music mix gains to 75% -- backbeat mix with tonal and rhythmic glimpses of Roger Miller’s "King of the Road."

Mark and Man begin to pace, respective paths along the sidewalk. A noted path and step rhythm develops, including the men coughing, sniffing and dragging their feet. An obvious rhythm has developed and the two men begin to unleash their frustration in dance, coordinated to the smooth beats of "King of the Road."

Music still at 75% mix, bus sound effect is triggered and both men stop dead in their tracks -— music cuts to 0%. Bus street sounds rise to 50%.

Men regain composure, collect their belongings and remove their bus fare. Men position themselves to board bus at center stage, facing audience.

Lights to black.

Indeed, I anticipate the journey into Slice will be a rewarding one. Though Jeremy and Ian don’t have a hard finish date, I’m nevertheless looking forward to seeing and hearing their intriguing world—- a world littered with the children of discontent and the oddities of habit (like a man who breaks into people’s homes and sands their crown molding). I long for this funky world and I appreciate Jeremy’s and Ian’s willingness to take us there.

They may not be Roy and Walt Disney, but I imagine their kingdom will be just as magical.

Keep reading for updates on the progress of Slice.

 
 
Roderick Armageddon is Chief Thinker for Stage Nomad - a non-profit artistic collective, Rod writes from his home on Mars.