Team Infidel
Forum Spin Doctor
New York Times
January 10, 2008 By Campbell Robertson
CAMP PENDLETON, Calif. — Adam Driver, former Marine lance corporal, First Battalion, First Marine Regiment, Weapons Company, 81st Platoon, remembers two shows he saw while stationed here on this sprawling base north of San Diego. There was a skateboarder who performed tricks. And a performance by the San Diego Chargers cheerleaders.
As entertainment for grown men, it was — well, here’s how Mr. Driver put it: “I mean, how dumb do they think we are?”
Which is why Mr. Driver, current third-year drama student at the Juilliard School, was here this week with a jazz trio and five actors for an evening of music and monologues by contemporary playwrights like Lanford Wilson, John Patrick Shanley and Jane Martin. He is hoping to prove to reluctant officials that serious theater — viewed by some in the military, Mr. Driver said, as “sissies running around stage in tights” — would not only work at Camp Pendleton but also be excellent for troops in war zones, where the entertainment options are much scarcer.
Which is why this 24-year-old student in one of the most intensive acting programs in the country has struggled, largely on his own, to pull together successful Juilliard alums like Laura Linney, Tracie Thoms and David Denman to put on something completely out of the ordinary at Camp Pendleton.
On a bare stage under the Marine Corps insignia, the five actors, some of whom had never been on a base before (Ms. Linney said she had been expecting something more like “F Troop”), were sitting in folding chairs before an audience of around 100, composed of reluctant men on dates; older couples; a handful of brawny men with shaved heads, some of whom had been actors or musicians in high school; and others who were not quite sure what this Juilliard was. They were scattered around the front rows of the otherwise yawningly empty auditorium built to accommodate 1,500. (The event’s competition happened to be the college football championship game on televsion.)
This was, as several audience members said beforehand, an opportunity for some culture. After a little jazz, the show began with Mr. Driver putting a baseball cap on his head backward and delivering a hilarious, profanity-laced lament by a would-be rapper from a play by Danny Hoch. The Juilliard staff member who was accompanying the show laughed conspicuously, as if to give permission.
“This is the first time I’ve seen something like this” on the base, said Sgt. David Ells, who arrived at the theater in a camouflage uniform.
Mr. Driver, tall, sinewy and seriously driven, was visibly nervous before the audience began trickling into the Marine Corps Base Training Center, as the theater is called, a space reserved for training exercises and movies but not, at least recently, straight plays for adults.
But it was here at Camp Pendleton a few years earlier, when a potentially fatal miscommunication at the mortar range inspired a moment of self-reflection, that Mr. Driver decided he was going to become an actor.
He had applied to Juilliard before he enlisted but not out of any serious ambition. He was desperate to get out of his hometown, Mishawaka, Ind., and he had acted in a couple of plays in school. But mainly he liked that Juilliard did not check grades.
When Juilliard rejected his application, he turned to the Marines, training as a mortar man and set on going to Iraq or Afghanistan. “Otherwise,” he said, “it’s all a waste of time.” But while mountain biking one afternoon, he broke his sternum.
Mr. Driver insisted he was fit for deployment, loading up on painkillers and working out strenuously to prove it. But the doctors disagreed, and he was honorably discharged in 2004.
After a year at the University of Indianapolis, Mr. Driver applied to Juilliard again and was accepted. The transition was not easy.
“I’m going from the Marine Corps,” he said, “to being a penguin and getting in touch with my feelings.”
Later his friends in the Marines kidded him for the tights wearing, and made him do his penguin bit over beers. The Juilliard students, said Gabriel Ebert, a classmate and a participant in the Camp Pendleton production, were intimidated at times by Mr. Driver’s intense personality. Mr. Driver said he frequently considered dropping out and joining the fire department.
But in some ways, in their rigor and discipline, the Marine Corps and Juilliard were oddly similar.
Mr. Driver continues to do 1,000 push-ups on most mornings, he still calls practically everyone ‘Sir,’ and he remains set on going overseas.
Originally his plan was to take a production of Sam Shepard’s “True West” to the troops stationed in the Middle East, but on the advice of James Houghton, the director of the drama program at Juilliard, Mr. Driver scaled it down. He came up with a series of monologues that showcased “manly characters” that marines might not associate with theater.
A passage from David Mamet was included and several from Mr. Shanley, a former marine. The monologue by Mr. Hoch was added, as well as a speech by Mr. Wilson. After a round of letter writing, Mr. Driver piqued the interest of actors like Dianne Wiest and Kevin Spacey.
But the USO passed. In an interview Bernie Rone, the director of celebrity entertainment recruiting at the USO, said his main concern was that the project did not involve enough high-profile names for the military to be interested.
“They have to be celebrities, acts that the troops are requesting,” Mr. Rone said, mentioning recent appearances by the country singer Toby Keith and the actor Wilmer Valderrama.
Mr. Driver said he was told the USO simply did not think theater would work, an objection echoed by Mark Phillips, a spokesman for the organization. “Look at the demographics of American service members,” Mr. Phillips said. “You’re talking 18 to 24 years old, predominantly male. If you look at what it is they’re interested in, in terms of entertainment, that’s what we’re focusing on.”
Mr. Rone suggested that Mr. Driver look up Armed Forces Entertainment, a government agency that books acts for the military. But Mr. Driver wanted the USO stamp of approval.
After a year of back and forth Mr. Driver finally decided to bypass the USO, and in October he called Camp Pendleton. Officials there accepted the production, despite voicing some of the same skepticism that USO officials did.
“If someone was a singer from the Met Opera, it might not find an audience here, if you know what I mean,” said Pete Elkin, who is in charge of activities and entertainment on the base. He cited Justin Timberlake and Brooks & Dunn as the kind of acts that would draw big audiences. But, Mr. Elkin said, “base leadership thought it would be an honor.”
Mr. Driver had to edit the pieces for vulgarity reasons; the Mamet speech had to go altogether. But much of the profanity, sexuality and aggression were left in, and the marquee at the theater read: “Juilliard Performance. Adults Only.”
“I was shocked when I read this,” said Ms. Linney, referring to the frank sexuality in her monologues. “That’s maybe coming from my own ignorance about who these people are.” The whole event, which was financed by Juilliard, was in some ways a serious culture shock for the actors, she said.
Mr. Driver, in his opening remarks, raised the objections that he had heard, the idea that “Marines don’t fit the demographic of a theater audience,” and said, “This performance is meant to prove otherwise.” It began.
Laughter came slowly at first. A row of marines squirmed, appearing to debate whether to leave. But they did not. Nobody did. People began laughing loudly. When it was over, after less than an hour, some even complained that it was too short.
Cpl. Richard Moulder, 21, who was dragged to the performance by his wife, said he was baffled at any suggestion that marines would not take to a show like that. “I mean these are the kinds of people marines are,” he said of the characters that were portrayed. “About everybody who is in the Marines is in it because they have a broken home or because they’re out to prove something.”
At an off-base pizza parlor afterward, the cast members were back on familiar territory: industry connections, Manhattan real estate. But Mr. Driver was already thinking ahead. He turned to the drummer in the jazz band. “What would you think,” he said, “about doing this in the Middle East?”
January 10, 2008 By Campbell Robertson
CAMP PENDLETON, Calif. — Adam Driver, former Marine lance corporal, First Battalion, First Marine Regiment, Weapons Company, 81st Platoon, remembers two shows he saw while stationed here on this sprawling base north of San Diego. There was a skateboarder who performed tricks. And a performance by the San Diego Chargers cheerleaders.
As entertainment for grown men, it was — well, here’s how Mr. Driver put it: “I mean, how dumb do they think we are?”
Which is why Mr. Driver, current third-year drama student at the Juilliard School, was here this week with a jazz trio and five actors for an evening of music and monologues by contemporary playwrights like Lanford Wilson, John Patrick Shanley and Jane Martin. He is hoping to prove to reluctant officials that serious theater — viewed by some in the military, Mr. Driver said, as “sissies running around stage in tights” — would not only work at Camp Pendleton but also be excellent for troops in war zones, where the entertainment options are much scarcer.
Which is why this 24-year-old student in one of the most intensive acting programs in the country has struggled, largely on his own, to pull together successful Juilliard alums like Laura Linney, Tracie Thoms and David Denman to put on something completely out of the ordinary at Camp Pendleton.
On a bare stage under the Marine Corps insignia, the five actors, some of whom had never been on a base before (Ms. Linney said she had been expecting something more like “F Troop”), were sitting in folding chairs before an audience of around 100, composed of reluctant men on dates; older couples; a handful of brawny men with shaved heads, some of whom had been actors or musicians in high school; and others who were not quite sure what this Juilliard was. They were scattered around the front rows of the otherwise yawningly empty auditorium built to accommodate 1,500. (The event’s competition happened to be the college football championship game on televsion.)
This was, as several audience members said beforehand, an opportunity for some culture. After a little jazz, the show began with Mr. Driver putting a baseball cap on his head backward and delivering a hilarious, profanity-laced lament by a would-be rapper from a play by Danny Hoch. The Juilliard staff member who was accompanying the show laughed conspicuously, as if to give permission.
“This is the first time I’ve seen something like this” on the base, said Sgt. David Ells, who arrived at the theater in a camouflage uniform.
Mr. Driver, tall, sinewy and seriously driven, was visibly nervous before the audience began trickling into the Marine Corps Base Training Center, as the theater is called, a space reserved for training exercises and movies but not, at least recently, straight plays for adults.
But it was here at Camp Pendleton a few years earlier, when a potentially fatal miscommunication at the mortar range inspired a moment of self-reflection, that Mr. Driver decided he was going to become an actor.
He had applied to Juilliard before he enlisted but not out of any serious ambition. He was desperate to get out of his hometown, Mishawaka, Ind., and he had acted in a couple of plays in school. But mainly he liked that Juilliard did not check grades.
When Juilliard rejected his application, he turned to the Marines, training as a mortar man and set on going to Iraq or Afghanistan. “Otherwise,” he said, “it’s all a waste of time.” But while mountain biking one afternoon, he broke his sternum.
Mr. Driver insisted he was fit for deployment, loading up on painkillers and working out strenuously to prove it. But the doctors disagreed, and he was honorably discharged in 2004.
After a year at the University of Indianapolis, Mr. Driver applied to Juilliard again and was accepted. The transition was not easy.
“I’m going from the Marine Corps,” he said, “to being a penguin and getting in touch with my feelings.”
Later his friends in the Marines kidded him for the tights wearing, and made him do his penguin bit over beers. The Juilliard students, said Gabriel Ebert, a classmate and a participant in the Camp Pendleton production, were intimidated at times by Mr. Driver’s intense personality. Mr. Driver said he frequently considered dropping out and joining the fire department.
But in some ways, in their rigor and discipline, the Marine Corps and Juilliard were oddly similar.
Mr. Driver continues to do 1,000 push-ups on most mornings, he still calls practically everyone ‘Sir,’ and he remains set on going overseas.
Originally his plan was to take a production of Sam Shepard’s “True West” to the troops stationed in the Middle East, but on the advice of James Houghton, the director of the drama program at Juilliard, Mr. Driver scaled it down. He came up with a series of monologues that showcased “manly characters” that marines might not associate with theater.
A passage from David Mamet was included and several from Mr. Shanley, a former marine. The monologue by Mr. Hoch was added, as well as a speech by Mr. Wilson. After a round of letter writing, Mr. Driver piqued the interest of actors like Dianne Wiest and Kevin Spacey.
But the USO passed. In an interview Bernie Rone, the director of celebrity entertainment recruiting at the USO, said his main concern was that the project did not involve enough high-profile names for the military to be interested.
“They have to be celebrities, acts that the troops are requesting,” Mr. Rone said, mentioning recent appearances by the country singer Toby Keith and the actor Wilmer Valderrama.
Mr. Driver said he was told the USO simply did not think theater would work, an objection echoed by Mark Phillips, a spokesman for the organization. “Look at the demographics of American service members,” Mr. Phillips said. “You’re talking 18 to 24 years old, predominantly male. If you look at what it is they’re interested in, in terms of entertainment, that’s what we’re focusing on.”
Mr. Rone suggested that Mr. Driver look up Armed Forces Entertainment, a government agency that books acts for the military. But Mr. Driver wanted the USO stamp of approval.
After a year of back and forth Mr. Driver finally decided to bypass the USO, and in October he called Camp Pendleton. Officials there accepted the production, despite voicing some of the same skepticism that USO officials did.
“If someone was a singer from the Met Opera, it might not find an audience here, if you know what I mean,” said Pete Elkin, who is in charge of activities and entertainment on the base. He cited Justin Timberlake and Brooks & Dunn as the kind of acts that would draw big audiences. But, Mr. Elkin said, “base leadership thought it would be an honor.”
Mr. Driver had to edit the pieces for vulgarity reasons; the Mamet speech had to go altogether. But much of the profanity, sexuality and aggression were left in, and the marquee at the theater read: “Juilliard Performance. Adults Only.”
“I was shocked when I read this,” said Ms. Linney, referring to the frank sexuality in her monologues. “That’s maybe coming from my own ignorance about who these people are.” The whole event, which was financed by Juilliard, was in some ways a serious culture shock for the actors, she said.
Mr. Driver, in his opening remarks, raised the objections that he had heard, the idea that “Marines don’t fit the demographic of a theater audience,” and said, “This performance is meant to prove otherwise.” It began.
Laughter came slowly at first. A row of marines squirmed, appearing to debate whether to leave. But they did not. Nobody did. People began laughing loudly. When it was over, after less than an hour, some even complained that it was too short.
Cpl. Richard Moulder, 21, who was dragged to the performance by his wife, said he was baffled at any suggestion that marines would not take to a show like that. “I mean these are the kinds of people marines are,” he said of the characters that were portrayed. “About everybody who is in the Marines is in it because they have a broken home or because they’re out to prove something.”
At an off-base pizza parlor afterward, the cast members were back on familiar territory: industry connections, Manhattan real estate. But Mr. Driver was already thinking ahead. He turned to the drummer in the jazz band. “What would you think,” he said, “about doing this in the Middle East?”
