Thank you Andy.

I just want to clarify a few things, where I may not have been very clear – and words are slippery things, are they not?

When I am talking about risk – I am talking about the artists risking something of themselves. I am not talking about the idea of edgy/risky content as in serious/ earnest/topical/ political agendas.

What I am talking about is risking an opinion, I’m talking about the writer and the artists involved risking something in and of themselves – to tell me what they believe.

I am not referring to financial risk – All theatre is an act of financial risk – and professional risk – but I am talking about personal risk as in risking who you are because you are confronting a question you personally have.

Though your response is extraordinarilly humble, Andy – there is a lot culturally about Australia and the Australian theatre scene – and the Sydney Independent scene that I think you may not be aware of.

I am very happy to declare my hand and say I find it more than disappointing when I go to the theatre and hear more American accents spilling out of the mouths of very talented Australian Actors. And in an age when we are absolutely surrounded by American voices, I am of the opinion that the more Australian voices we hear, the better. Australian audiences deserve and want Australian stories – infact we need it.

And I don’t doubt that John and Michaela have much drive and purpose to what they are doing. That is not in question. However I am wondering what that thing is that drives them to make the art that they do? And all I have said in this response is that I didn’t connect with the work – and I was/am musing on why that it.

I suspect it is because I make work and direct plays within the context I am living. And John, having been abroad for some time may have an opinion or a view of Australian theatre that may not necessarilly be my experience of Sydney theatre (Indie/fringe or otherwise) – and I was creating a response to that.

In reference to directors and writers notes – no one should ever feel pressured to write one. If the work speaks for itself it speaks for itself. Also – I think the directors and writers notes are often a reflection on the ideas of the play – and for me are best when they speak specifically to the WHY behind the production of the show in it’s current context. The notes are most exciting when they contextualise the play specifically to the audience- and for me these notes could have been said about any rom-coms, anywhere, anytime.

The other thing I would say is that all writers deserve the chance to develop their work. And I think often the best place for a writer to risk their world view/perspective is in the context of their life – in the town/city they live… mainly because those that live in your context can keep the writer honest and accountable… and can offer support and understanding. Infact, i think it is easier to develop in your own context because people may share your sensibility. As in this case. I don’t seemingly share your sensibility. And that could well be cultural.

I didn’t connect with your plays. And I am well within my rights to do so. If others did – that is more than ok with me – in fact I think that’s great. I am only one person airing my thoughts and perspective and declaring my tastes and opinion and preference.

In the case of my preference, my preference is supporting local writers in their development first.

And to reassure you, when given the choice between attending Shakespeare and a new Australian play I always choose the new Australian.

Given the choice between attending old/new American plays and Australian plays, I will always choose to attend the Australian play.I have a curiousity about and for the Australian voice – and that’s my prejudice – and I am openly declaring that.

I don’t think that anyone is being hoodwinked.I don’t think John et all are not committed. I do. It’s clear, they are. No question. I just think they have different tastes and priorities.

My priority is to make art.

To make art that challenges me, provoked me into new and difficult territory that forces me to grow as a person and an artist… and that reflects how I feel/see the world.

As an audience member, I want to be engaged and excited by the material. I want to fall in love with the ideas, language, production, message, concept, style. On this occasion, I didn’t. That’s not to say others wont and I don’t deny them that joy. I am not writing about your plays to turn people off – in fact, I am writing about your plays because it made me question something about my own desires for what theatre is and should be… and for that I am grateful.

Thanks again for writing Andy. I think you are very brave, and I hope you continue to develop your writing. Thank you also for clarifying the Gielgud stuff – it did seem in the article like quite superficial, career posturing. Which is the quickest way to turn me off discussing art and ideas with any artist.

But hey, that’s just me… and as one old gent once told me “for every cup there is a saucer”… and I guess your saucer wasn’t made for my cup, that’s all.

But that demand, earnest as it is, seems to arise out of the cautionary tale of these ill-fated plays, and, necessary as it may be, I think it does a disservice to John, Michaela, and the rest of the cast and crew to assume you didn’t enjoy yourself in the audience not only because the shows didn’t suit your tastes, but because the choice of the material itself wasn’t risky enough—when these people have risked a good deal to put these shows on.

To say that the reason you didn’t laugh at these plays is because the writing wasn’t up to par seems a fairly straightforward and honest response, and, I’d be happy to leave it at that, and call it a day. But what you seem to be searching for, beyond the issue of personal taste, is an explanation of why John CHOSE these plays in the first place—which I guess is a reasonable pursuit, if you didn’t like the scripts, and, as you’ve expressed in great detail, you’ve always trusted those who made the choice.

What you try to find is an answer based on John’s unfavorable attitude as expressed in the supporting and press materials, and, based on that, the conclusion you come to in light of that information seems to hold up. Unfortunately, you never ask the question, is John really as intellectually compromised as you think he appears? Or is he just not any good at writing program notes, and giving interviews—and is this really a valuable explanation of what went wrong here? Program notes are a just a problem for some of us—we try too hard to make ourselves sound important and all-knowing—and the SMH article is definitely weird; the whole “eavesdropped on Pinter, swapped drinking stories with Sir John Gielgud,” stuff? Never happened. In fact, I read now that Gielgud was dead for seven years by the time John and I got to London, and that certainly wasn’t the only discrepancy between the story the article tells and the past as I remember it, so, what can we say. Is it possible, then, that a journalist with his own job to do and his own narrative to tell, fostered a conversation that naturally elicited potentially controversial (at least, as you’ve taken them) remarks, rather than a bunch of stuff about “how excited I am about the material, I really like these stories”—which is, you know, fairly boring stuff to read?

Who knows. I might be totally paranoid, and maybe John meant every damn word he said, and ONLY that. The one thing for which I can vouch right now is that John did not choose to direct these plays because I’m an American, and because they were the safe choice. No one, quite sadly, has ever produced anything of mine, just because I’m an American (any takers?), and I’m not nearly successful enough to be considered a safe choice by anyone. John directed these plays because we’re friends, and because he said he liked the scripts. Michaela produced these plays because she said she liked the scripts. I apologize if that contradicts your previous experience of their savvy. And if the supporting materials, omniscient as they may be, failed to express the passion with which these productions were undertaken, let me assure you, as someone who was there in rehearsals, during previews, just generally hanging around, that John and the rest of the cast and crew honored me with hourly reminders that that passion for this material was ever-present in their work. And with that passion did come risk, as it always does when you put yourself on the line to do the best you can with something you care about. Though I can certainly see why, based on the information you had, that risk didn’t translate into the same kind of risk you find exciting as an audience member. Doesn’t mean it wasn’t there, and it doesn’t mean their integrity has been compromised. Their tastes may diverge from yours, and their sense of the purpose of theatre might take a different form, but they are no less committed to that purpose than you are to yours.

I know, you found the plays average at best, and that’s very well what they might be; I’m young, I’m not the world’s greatest writer, and I’m still struggling to do my job better, as I imagine I always will be. But to say, “I love comedy and love stories, and these were comedies and love stories, and I could see these stories weren’t good, and I know the director, cast and crew of these plays, and know they’re smart enough to see when a story isn’t good, and yet they did these anyway…THEREFORE, there must have been some ulterior motive!” does not, I’m afraid, account for the possibility that there was something in the material that spoke to them, when it did not speak to you, and something in the endeavor of this production, which differs from the motivations that drive you to undertake a production. Which is, you know, exactly what makes this whole business so beautiful. Or, maybe they’re just more easily hoodwinked than you are.

I’m not actually arguing here from the mundane reality of cash flow, but going for something slightly subtler: if the audience don’t want to see the edgy stuff, should we as theatre practitioners be attempting to get them to see it or should we be catering to their taste for less risky stuff?

Many of them are really not ever going to enjoy anything that challenges them. We risk becoming the ‘evil’ parent demanding “Eat your sprouts, they’re good for you, I know best”, and turning them off theatre entirely – which I think would be a monstrous shame. It’s not a bad thing to provide a gentler introduction to new theatre goers.

So while you are absolutely right in your above thoughts (it’s a beautiful and inspiring piece of writing you’ve given us), I think there is a place for the “very unsurprising, pedestrian safe work” in the Sydney theatre landscape.

Read the SMH article, isn’t it just more of plugging into Australia’s status anxiety to sell a story? The story is the same, just some new names – Australia is shit, London is the centre, allusions to famous bars and fabulous English players, it’s such a pity we’re a colonial outpost full of nothingness. Same story, different wrapping paper. Sell, sell, sell. It’s an angle, some spin. I don’t believe for a second that the team sat in a Covent Garden wine bar eavesdropping on Pinter saying, gee, this play is perfect for Sydney. I really want it to go on in Sydney, man, Sydney’s such a touch city, Sydney’s a pipe dream, Sydney’s unreachable… I guess we’ll just have to settle for the Finborough and Edinburgh…