So, as THE MONK nears its final weekend, we're happy to report we are completely sold out for the last two shows. Over 600 people have seen THE MONK during its initial run and we hope more will have the chance to see it in the future with other theater companies! Keep your eyes on us- updates will continue from time to time and the future will hopefully be a bright one! Till then, thank you all for your support on this crazy and wonderful project!

Our first reviews are out- and very positive!

http://blog.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=blog.view&FriendID=141722371&blogMonth=10&blogDay=16&blogYear=2008

http://www.sfstation.com/the-monk-a11891

And it's completely sold out- but there are still tickets available to 13 performances (Opening Night is also sold out) starting Saturday, October 11!

Don't miss out on the world premiere of this fantastic new show!

E-mail ambrosioandmatilda@gmail.com to make your reservations today!

And we're already sold out for opening night- BUT TICKETS FOR THE REST OF THE RUN ARE AVAILABLE IN SPADES!

If you want to reserve tickets, just e-mail ambrosioandmatilda@gmail.com

Let us know how many you want and for what night and we'll get back to you.

DON'T MISS THE SHOW! It plays Friday and Saturday nights from October 10 to November 22nd!

It's six weeks till opening of THE MONK—the most ambitious,
passionate, and intelligent small theatre event of the upcoming season—and
it's about time this production took off into the blogosphere.

As the assistant director/dramaturg—the guy with the notepad, the
prompt book, and the kindly, admiring, good-humored visage hanging
around our spacious, well lit (if occasionally slightly stuffy)
rehearsal hall at Shotwell Studios, in San Francisco's gritty-fab
Mission District—I feel obliged and emboldened to share some of our
evolving experiences with you, our well-wishers of today and repeat
audience-members of tomorrow.

Rehearsals for THE MONK are well into their second week, and our
dedicated castmembers are steadily propelled ever more deeply into
their roles, and into the roiling, turbid, stylish, and deeply naughty
world of the play—all under the gently watchful, artfully literate,
and impeccably focused direction of Maestro Stuart. At our first,
(nearly-) full cast rehearsal, two Sundays ago, Stuart gave us a
clear, nuanced overview of the territory into which we are
parachuting, from the historical background of the Gothic revival in
England to the general aesthetic the play will embody (with, it is
hoped, some small assistance rendered by the dramaturgy lovingly
composed by the undersigned). Since then, we've had an opportunity to
have text and character sessions for almost all of the main roles, and
begun that mystical process known as blocking.

Last Sunday, when we first started to stage scenes, was electrifying
at times. With a look that evinced supreme focus, Stuart stood in the
studio equivalent of down center, read Ambrosio's role, and simply let
the blocking flow from him. The actors moved around, took notes, made
suggestions, and, most importantly, got it. One of the scenes we
blocked, in which the chorus of Gypsy women read the fortunes of the
innocent Antonia and her tactless aunt, was particularly invigorating:
we divvied up the Gypsy's lines among the three lovely ladies of that
chorus, some lines read in unison, and then got them on their feet. In
a flash, as Meghan, head Gypsy, coiled one leg around the other,
flanked meaningfully by her mysterious compatriots, and stretched out
her arms in a manner somewhere between that of a flamenco danseuse and
a Hindu goddess, the fateful, musical, occult character of the scene
suffused the room.

As we immerse ourselves more and more fully in the process, a funny
feeling steals over me. Although the amount of work that remains to be
done (and it is significant) becomes more evident with every
productive rehearsal, there's also a palpable sense of relief. It
seems to me, at any rate, that as we get the production on its feet
and the characters into our souls, the barriers among Nirmala's rich
text, Stuart's directorial vision, Cody's graphic constellation, and
Matthew Lewis's twisted, fantastical world are increasingly only
practical, only physical: ideas are steadily becoming flesh, becoming
action, becoming character. This, for me, is the crucial process, the
transubstantiation of our art.

Lisa Fowle, the mastermind behind Dragonfly Sound LLC, has recently signed on to compose and arrange the sound pallet of No Nude Men's premiere of THE MONK.

A graduate of the University of Arizona, where she met director Stuart Bousel through a mutual friend who was then Lisa's roommate, Miss Fowle has accumulated a vast list of credits as diverse as indy goth films like "Liberata Me", mainstream hits like "Toy Story 2", the "Ironman" video game and the blue-ray menu content of "The Chronicles of Narnia: Prince Caspian."

When asked to provide THE MONK with its audible soul, Lisa's first response was, "Damn, this script is f***ed up! Why are you doing this?" but after some thai food and a lot of jasmine tea she was finally cajoled into lending her exceptional talents to the mix.

Influenced by artists such as Loreena McKennitt and Jocelyn Pook, Lisa plans to bring a haunting resonance to the sounds of THE MONK, including composing several new works of "psudeo-classical" music and chants. When asked to sum it up neatly in one sentence her response was "Lots of churchbells. Lots and lots of churchbells."

An Eclectic Underground Fine Artist & Designer, Gregorio De Masi is currently creating his new home in the San Francisco Bay Area with DEMASIdesign in support of his various artistic endeavours. A Multifaceted Artist, DEMASI freelances on the West Coast as a Graphic Designer, Digital Artist, Photographer, Illustrator, Painter, Sculptor and Costume & Mask Designer. 

DEMASI was raised in Europe for the majority of his youth where he began producing artwork at the age of four.  After relocating to the United States, Gregorio refined his natural talents through experiences which included education at the Pasadena Art Center College of Design and the Volkswagen & Audi Design Center. Gregorio De Masi now collaborates with Professional International Live Theatre, Film, Television and Multimedia Production Events.

 

He was born in London and educated for a diplomatic career at Westminster School and Christ Church, Oxford, spending most of his vacations abroad in the study of modern languages. In 1794 he went to the Hague as attache to the British embassy. Although he only stayed a few months, it was there that he produced, in ten weeks, his romance Ambrosio, or the Monk, which was published in the summer of the following year. It immediately achieved celebrity; but some passages it contained were of such a nature that about a year after its appearance, an injunction to restrain its sale was moved for and obtained. Lewis published a second edition from which he removed what he thought were the objectionable passages, but the work retained much of its horrific character. Lord Byron in English Bards and Scotch Reviewers wrote of "Wonder-working Lewis, Monk or Bard, who fain wouldst make Paranassus a churchyard; Even Satan's self with thee might dread to dwell, And in thy skull discern a deeper hell." The Marquis de Sade also praised Lewis in his essay Reflections on the Novel.

Whatever its demerits, ethical or aesthetic, may have been, The Monk did not interfere with the reception of Lewis into the best society; he was favourably noticed at court, and almost as soon as he came of age he obtained a seat in the House of Commons as Member of Parliment (MP) for Hindon in Wiltshire. After some years, during which he never addressed the House, he finally withdrew from a parliamentary career. His tastes lay wholly in the direction of literature, and he next wrote The Castle Spectre (1796), a musical drama of no great literary merit, but which enjoyed a long popularity on the stage, The Minister, Rolla, and numerous other operatic and tragic pieces, appeared in rapid succession. The Bravo of Venice, a romance translated from the German, was published in 1804 and after The Monk it is his best known work. The death of his father left him with large fortune, and in 1815 he set off for the West Indies to visit his estates; in the course of this tour, which lasted four months, the Journal of a West Indian Proprietor, published posthumously in 1833, was written. A second visit to Jamaica was undertaken in 1817 in the hope of becoming more familiar with, and able to ameliorate, the condition of the slave population. The fatigues to which he exposed himself in the tropical climate brought on a fever which resulted in his death during the homeward voyage.

The Monk is a novel that isn't new to stage adaptations but has pretty much received its curtains with respect to contemporary theatre-goers' more "subtle" proclivities. My part in resuscitating this unduly rebuffed classic began the way many of my creative projects do—two years ago, at the enthusiastic behest of one Stuart Bousel. Shortly after the successful debut of my play, The Book of Genesis: Remastered and Remixed, conceived as a series of comedic vignettes for the San Francisco Theater Festival in 2005, Stuart had a wild idea for another collaboration. Namely, I would write a stage adaptation of Matthew Lewis' The Monk, which is generally touted as the first gothic novel ever written—despite an angry injunction to remove its sales back in 1794 by the priggish authorities.

Folks who know Stuart will understand that it's not mere hyperbole to say he's ridiculously well-read and puts even bookworms like me to shame. His oeuvre has a penchant for reviving both prominent and obscure classics, and this particular piece happens to fall into the latter category. In fact, Stuart may have been a little surprised when I was like, "Oh, Ambrosio (the titular character) is my favorite villain in early modern Western literature! He's the reason I decided to become an English major, much to the chagrin of my duty-bound parents. Swoon!" 

Overall, the book—500 rollicking pages of love, sex, theology, ghost stories, and fables of nuns and priests gone wild—is florid, tawdry, perverse, melodramatic, withering in its treatment of the Catholic Church…in short, everything I look for in my literature. So naturally, I told Stuart I'd begin straightaway.

Well, a year and a half and two cross-country moves later, I hadn't done diddly. Originally, the play was supposed to premiere in March of 2006, but it soon became clear that wasn't going to be possible, given my newly bi-coastal status. I actually ended up moving back to SF in 2006, at which time Stuart and I loosely speculated on the next available opportunity for a production of The Monk. For about a year, we played e-mail and phone tag; Stuart displayed an unearthly amount of patience for my procrastination and went about his business while I bobbed and weaved around timing like an aging boxer. 

Why did it take me so long to finally get started? Well, because I'm lame, for starters. I'm one of those persnickety, perfectionistic writers who develops a complex at the start of any project. So I basically brooded over the page until May of 2007, when Stuart announced to me that he was at the end of his creative and financial rope with No Nude Men. He'd sunk too much of his own moolah into productions over the last several years, with no external sources of funding, and he was mentally and physically exhausted—understandable, since I don't think he'd ever taken much of a breather between shows. Plus, he was getting paid to direct for other companies, longstanding members of NNM were moving on to other enterprises, and it seemed prudent to make a graceful exit while NNM was still at the top of its game.

When he told me all this, something clicked for me. Stuart—in that sly "no blame, no shame" way of his—said that he'd consider doing The Monk if I had something to show him in a few weeks—potentially for an October show at the Exit. Essentially, Stuart's implied moratorium on NNM is what put the flames under my ass and cranked up the creative velocity. At first, the process was fairly hellish. I'd re-read the text obsessively, then write a page or two of script, only to say fuck this and delete all of it and curse the muses to quite dramatic effect…best done to the accompaniment of Mahler. It gradually became easier as I went along. Over about three weeks, I sat at my computer for eight hours at a stretch—listening to Bach's violin concertos and medieval Latin ladymasses while drinking lots of Zinfandel and drunk-dialing my poor bemused friends. 

So with a little prodding from Stuart (daily e-mails checking on my progress—I don't think he quite believed I'd make the deadline) and a couple fog and incense-filled visions of the Wandering Jew and Bleeding Nun (who actually wrote whole pages of dialogue for me, bless their infernal souls!), I plodded through the process pretty gracefully, if I do say so myself. The result is pretty much faithful to the text (after all, I usually relish the opportunity to use archaic words in a sentence), with a healthy dollop of creative license splashed in to make it all less literary and more stagey. My primary source was Matthew Lewis' novel, but I took it upon myself to do a little research into torture tactics circa the Spanish Inquisition, and other topics that I thought would be ideal for the provision of nice little details…clothing styles, sources of entertainment, and the like. I'm sure the final manuscript isn't exactly historically spot-on, but then again, you can't really demerit Lewis' crazy fantasia on the basis of inaccuracy. I think Lewis would give the adapted version of The Monk his blessings—it's sexy, fiery, mysterious, and retains the punitive air that I think he had always intended—more dominatrix than moralist.

Unfortunately, Stuart and I decided that an October 2007 production just wouldn't be possible, because the show was TOO BIG. It would need costumes, publicity, and frankly, a little more conciseness (my initial version clocked in to just under three hours)—not to mention time to suss out all the conceptual kinks. So we'd give it the ministration it deserved and save it for 2008, which would also allow us plenty of time to collect donations and raise the money necessary to create a fabulous red-letter production. 

Now that the writing bit is over, the good part begins. At this point, I'm pretty much sitting pretty and deferring to Stuart's vision, which—to my utter delight—includes elements of the medieval mystery play, the 16^th century masque, and commedia dell'arte pageantry. Who could say no to all that? 

I always thought it would be nice to be a bona fide playwright, but I never really imagined myself penning tales about venal monks and damsels in distress, much less adaptations of all that stuff. But as little as I know about liturgical tropes or even the Spanish Inquisition (aside from that Mel Brooks ditty), devising a script for The Monk was perhaps the most fun and trying and scary and tumultuous and exhilarating writing experience I've had so far. I hope it convinces Stuart to share his own directorial talent with the NNM community just a little longer, as I imagine that future collaborations are definitely in the works…