The Rogue Mission, Vision & Manifesto

The Rogue Manifesto

Article I

The theatre is a place for us to question our assumptions and encounter new ideas. It is a place to appreciate points of view impossible to see in any other way. It is a place where symbol, language, ritual, and character meet and mix and lend color and texture to our lives. It reveals in the human spirit that quality we call divine. A community so enriched can only thrive.

In 2003, Cynthia Meier and I were reading a new play for Old Pueblo Playwrights, and decided, more or less on a whim, to get together and work on scenes from A Moon for the Misbegotten by Eugene O’Neill. Roles that we loved dearly in age ranges that were rapidly slipping through our fingers. We had both admired the play for some time, and were impressed with one another’s talents, and wanted a forum to work with good people on a very good script. Since then we have worked on several scenes and have performed them successfully in educational settings.

The experience has confirmed our philosophical predispositions. Namely, that simple production focused on language and the power of theatrical symbolism is much more exciting and rich than what we’re often seeing on our American stages at present. Many productions display enormous levels of craft with little artistry. And our audiences are being trained to view the theatre as a place where illusions are created and nothing more. They’ve come to expect that they’ll leave the theatre with a sense of having done a duty, much like the unwilling Sunday worshiper. Or that it’s a hit-or-miss affair, and that often they’ll have to endure a script that, having provided its opportunities for various sight gags and scenic wonders, at its core has absolutely nothing to say to them. This is wrong. Theatre should resonate in us. It should stay with us. It should cling to us and haunt us with its characters and problems long after the curtain has gone down. We all have had this experience. And all of our theatres have achieved this wonderful level of penetration from time to time. But commercial concerns corrupt the ideal.

Money inevitably influences a theatre’s choice of plays and how they’re produced. It’s hardly a secret that certain plays and genres of theatre are a much easier sell than others. Whereas one title will guarantee an 80% house, another piece of truly fine, fine theatre will struggle to find an audience regardless of its quality of production. A hard fact for those of us with high ideals.

There is an audience that is being left on the table, so to speak. They’re perfectly willing to imagine an Irish landscape or London drawing room provided you have something to say when you’re there. They’re looking for intelligent discourse. They’ll be happy to listen to rich language with a few words they’ve never even heard before. It will be OK with them if you say that this red cloth is blood and this blue cloth is water, and this man standing with his arms out represents a wall. They love theatrical symbolism. In fact, they won’t mind if the symbolism is a heck of a lot subtler than that. This audience does do nuance. And we hope to serve them.

People like to use their imaginations. A simple theatre is an imaginative experience for the audience. But, as in anything, simple isn’t easy. Without automated scenery and lights and breath-taking costumes, actors are stripped and alone. They must penetrate the work to such an extent that they need no help to be riveting, and if they’ve reached that point, they can do without the distractions. How do they reach that point? They must have a school of acting and strong, insistent direction. A way of working. And they must have time.

The Rogue will be a way of working. We will become expert at pulling entire worlds out of our pocket. The Rogue will be fearless about expecting intelligence from our audience. The Rogue will try always to stay at or above the level of our audience, because there is nothing worse than playing beneath them. We will ask more of ourselves, our audience, and our community. And we will do this in a spirit of love and generosity. Because, along with everything said thus far, the theatre is a gift.

We’ve chosen the name The Rogue because we want to poke and prod and kick over sand castles, and if a few people get pissed off, from time to time, well, that’s OK. It comes with the territory of talking about things that people care about, and looking at those things in unexpected ways. In other words, it comes with the territory of doing real theatre.

—Joseph McGrath, Artistic Director,
September 2005
Updated July 2019

Article II

Our experiences of production at the Rogue Theatre have confirmed our initial convictions about what we are attempting to accomplish. Our audience has appreciated the level of discourse and the opportunity to participate in an imaginative event, and we have rapidly developed a reputation for those qualities. We have found that high quality literature develops high quality work in our artists. Our rehearsal process has encompassed roughly twice the time that comparable companies might devote to such projects, and we have found that every last moment of those rehearsals were fruitful in developing not only the work, but the ensemble, and the individual performers as well. It has been gratifying to find that the Rogue already seems to have developed a musical aspect to its ensemble, headed initially by Dr. Harlan Hokin, followed by Paul Amiel, and Jake Sorgen and now Russell Ronnenbaum that will be critical in coming years to not only its theatrical posture, but to the training of ear and voice that must happen if we are to continue with this rich language. The Rogue is devoted to our local actors, and we hope to train them to capabilities far beyond what is typically asked of them here in Tucson.

—Joseph McGrath, Artistic Director
April 2006
Updated July 2019