LUCIDITY

What began as a fairly straightforward attempt to write and produce a play adaptation of Alan Lightman’s EINSTEIN’S DREAMS, became an example of the creative writing process...which I think would make Dr. Lightman (and his book’s eponymous hero) very happy.

A key moment in the process came during a discussion with Teri Parker Lewis who pointed out how cinematic the novel’s dream-visions were. Teri is an actor with a strong background in movement. She saw a stage version more in those terms...almost modern dance-like...with projected scenery.

Suddenly, the idea of staging a play seemed more ambitious than I’d anticipated. Teri was right. I didn’t want to make this a reader’s theatre chamber piece. It had to move. Visual imagery would be critical. Music would play a much larger role in a successful stage adaptation. There would need to be a choreographer.

Then...LA JETEE came back to me. Chris Marker’s 1963 short film has haunted me since I first saw it several years ago. It’s a time travel story...eerie, unsettling. There are corners of Lightman’s book that read that way to me...it is an Einstein dream.

The project began to morph into something more abstract...with a definite monochromatic film element leading the way. I wanted it to feel like something secret and terrible...a clackity old 16mm art film being watched in the basement of a decaying high school.

Other influences came to bear: Clint Mansell’s incredible score for the film, MOON...attending a not-so-successful “art film” screening at an Upstate gallery...the cracking ceiling of my dilapidated office in an old house...the faces of several local actors, some friends, others not-yet friends...Jay Bundrick’s enthusiasm for hair and makeup...an intensely limited budget and time frame.

The chance to work with two of my favorite student actors at J.L. Mann High School...one last time.

The project became more lucid. Scenes were written, cut, added back and rewritten. A honing, an editing of words took place. A rusty old train car on the way to the film school came into my line of vision...perfect location for a nightmare.

And then this idea: Einstein should not look like Einstein. He needs to be an everyman...or perhaps, an everywoman.

Last night I presented a film and play as a kind of glimpse into an artist’s sketchbook. Having explored the dramatic possibilities of Dr. Lightman’s book, I close this chapter and turn my attention to writing a screenplay based on my discoveries.

I’m seeing the first black and white Pixar film...in French...discovered in the old Janus Film vaults...a teenage girl thinks she’s Albert Einstein.