A few short weeks ago, I found myself taking on the position of Production Manager at Redmoon. How does someone trained to be a playwright and dramaturg, a theatre artist charged with creating and defending the importance of language, work in an Object-based theatre company where dialogue comes second to masks, puppets, and gesture without feeling the need to incite a violent and irreparable artistic revolución?

Well, to begin with, one assumes a purely organizational role that will require no philosophical angst on your part. It’s kind of like being a vegan and working for a meat packing plant, but in a neutral, managerial realm.

That sounds bad. Actually, it’s more like being an atheist working the front desk at a church. I imagine that between filing miracle claims and doing inventory on communion wafers our intrepid non-believing secretary wanders into the place of worship and perhaps catches a glimpse of some ritual or pageantry and says to herself, “This is pleasantly trippy. What’s with all the pictures of bleeding people? I am confused, yet intrigued.”

Churches have front desks, right? Yeah, that’ll work.

As Production Manager for Redmoon’s Hunchback, I find myself in a peculiar position. Because my job is in no way an artistic decision-making post, I have the luxury of helping to produce theatre that, honestly, I would not think to create on my own. My duties include, but are not limited to, organizing and presiding over production meetings, delegating tasks, checking in with designers, and generally making sure everyone is well-informed about progress for the show in every department, be it costumes or marketing. In between running around, emailing, and injuring myself on new props, I get to witness a story being built from picture and gesture. I sit, and think to myself, “This is pleasantly trippy. What’s with the towers becoming horses? I am confused, yet intrigued.”

Please rest assured that I am not glibly dismissing a theatrical technique that is somewhat alien to me. Storytelling can be achieved be eschewing or transcending language (check out David Edgar’s awesome play Pentecost for a gorgeous illustration of that point), but I have always approached theatre from the belief that Aristotle, despite being an insufferable nuisance at times during my college years, may have had the right idea when he placed Spectacle at the end of the list of dramatic priority. Also, I spent a great deal of money for the privilege of having that drilled into my head for four years, and am loathe to think of my tuition bills as the giggling checkpoints of my descent into a philosophy without merit.

I am also in love with the written word, and know the Victor Hugo novel (upon which our Hunchback is based) very well, and saying good-bye to 99.9% of his prose hurts my heart a little. As it stands, though, Hugo’s story is definitely coming across, albeit as a combination of Punch-and-Judy, circus, and Grand Guignol.

At the end of the day, I find this Object-based faith fascinating, and sumptuous to watch. I look forward to stumbling upon many unfamiliar rituals in the whisper of a playhouse that color my own ideology. I sit at my desk, content. I hope everyone comes to the service this winter.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to organize a meeting to determine if sand was procured for the skeleton book in the final scene. Like you do.