It is with mixed emotions that I look at the idea of having directed the first production under our new banner, The Katselas Theatre Company. Our first performance, April 24, marks the six-month anniversary of Milton's passing, and never has six months gone by that at the same time seemed so endless, yet so quick to pass. I first worked with Milton when he directed a workshop of Puccini's La Boheme here at The Skylight Theatre 17 years ago, and I was the rehearsal pianist. "Hey, you, Mr. Piano Guy, Mr. Bagel - no reading in rehearsal!" he famously yelled at me on my first day, as I ill-advisedly munched on breakfast while reading the New York Times in front of his face. And from that moment, we worked together on aomost every aspect of the BHP oepration. I edited his books and articles, ran the classes he taught, apprenticed him when he directed plays or scenes in class, and in 2001 he called me up and ordered me to go teach a class that night - which began the start of something I hadn't really conceived of prior to that. He paid for my first piano teacher out here, and he even drove to the Valley to observe some of the lessons. I got to be directed by him as an actor a few times, and over the last 18 months of his life, had the immense privilege of teaching with him in the Advanced level classes here. I think the biggest gift he gave me recently, however, was last summer, in the middle of his giving a class some hell for not really studying the art of directing, for thinking that if they pick up a camera and press "record," they can direct. In the middle of the diatribe, he paused, and asked the room, without glancing at me: "Who here has seen Rabbit Hole?" This was the production I directed last summer in this theatre, and Milton had recently seen a runthrough. A few hands went up - we had just opened the previous weekend. Another pause, and then: "Allen Barton is a director." As my southern college roommate would have said, That's high cotton! Thank you, Milton, for a great trip. I'll be minding the store for you.

The newly renamed Katselas Theatre Company (formerly Camelot Artists) was brought to life this weekend with my latest directing effort, Tom Stoppard's The Real Thing. Our official press opening is May 2nd, but I've never paid much attention to the whole preview / opening distinction - once there's an audience in the seats, I consider that I've opened. I'm very proud of the actors and the work they're doing in this very difficult play, and I think Milton would have gotten a kick out of a couple things I'm doing in this as director. The shows went very smoothly, except for the fact that our soon-never-to-be-seen-again incredibly hostile lighting and set designer brought my set in at 7:15pm the night of the first performance. Yeah, that's 45 minutes before the first curtain. And he brought a set that looks like crap - I'll have to have the whole thing redone. It was supposed to be a set of really nice stained wood bookshelves, and he brought what looks to be particle board that has been spray painted brown. NICE!

The Bard has been getting good treatment lately. The last four Shakespeare scenes I've seen in the Advanced level classes, all in the last month:

1) Act I, Scene 1 of Hamlet. Yeah, Act I Scene 1. Who does Act I Scene 1? Just a functional little scene to introduce Hamlet's ghostly Dad, right? Not in this incarnation, directed by Peter Leake. Working for over a month at midnight and beyond, Peter directed four of his fellow actors in the class to a terrific, funny, well-armed, sound-designed-within-an-inch-of-its-life realization of scene that is usually overlooked and underrealized.

2) King Lear a la Deadwood. Not to be outdone, two gentlemen in the other advanced class did a brilliantly original take on Lear,  set amidst the wild west aesthetic of David Milch's profane and poetic HBO series from 2005-2007. So from the cacophony of Milchesque "motherfucking"s and "cocksuckers" (to name two of the tamer words) emerged the Bard's beautiful language, and an ambitious plot to turn a father against his favorite son.

3) Taming of the Shrew - another directed effort by an actress who had herself done a Bronx version of Kate last year, in which she kicked the shit out of a much larger actor as her suitor, this time addressing Kate's beatdown of her favored sister. This one was just an hour of fight choreography away from being the most rewarding girlfight I've seen on stage.

4) Henry VI Part II. Fodder for every scene study class, right? The night after Taming of the Shrew, the Monday/Wednesday class counterpunched again, with a "monologue" (as written on my teacher pad) containing 10 strapping guys from the class in full war paint and costume, with the actor playing York tied to a wheeled arch at the Skylight Theatre and tossed about in a paroxysm of death lust, before Margaret entered, as played and conceived by Audrey Moore, and delighted in her own version of revenge. Jeremy Radin still tried to steal the scene, and almost did as a hapless throne mover who is exhausted by his lowly task.

Each on of these scenes was alive, passionate, joyful, imaginative - everything Milton would have wanted from his students attacking the Bard.