The Common Blog 8 – By Alex Lyras

I did not recognize the 805 area code but after answer my reliably spotty iPhone, I was surprised to learn it was an equity theater who wanted The Common Air for their theater in Ojai, California.  It was seventy miles north of LA, I was told by a sultry feminine voice.

I had visited Ojai once with a friend and was enchanted like most are.  The area holds a reputation for being the consummate spiritual remedy to Hollywood’s dedicated shallows.  Since when did they have a theater, I wondered as I agreed to have the show produced there.

As a child of the 70’s, I knew Ojai as the home of Jamie Summers, The Bionic Woman.  Ra-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-paaa… On my first visit, however, I learned about a superhero almost as powerful.  His name was a little less network: Krishnamurti.  He was a spiritual teacher who preached against organized religion.  He held mass retreats in the 70’s where some 15,000 people would descend on the town to hear him guru, even claiming he was neither profit nor priest.  He passed away not long ago, but his institute just outside of town still draws acolytes from around the world.  Things happen a little differently in Ojai.

There’s definitely something preternatural here: a mystical vortex that’s been drawing the enlightened to it since 1837.  Ojai means, “Valley of the Moon”, a name bestowed on it by the Native American Cumash tribe, the region’s maiden inhabitants.

Unlike most valleys on the continent, Ojai lays at the base of an east-west mountain range.  As a result, the skies produce what locals have labeled a “Pink Moment”: a startling hue of pink above the Topatopa Bluffs.  It’s impossible to take for granted, even for life-time residents.

A walk down main street can feel like an outtake from any of Clint Eastwood’s early spaghetti westerns.  The town is anchored by a distinctly Spanish-style arcade, and local architecture ranges from sunburnt Cuban to Colonial revivalism.  The number of men wearing long white beards and sandals add to the hamlets authenticity.  And patchouli, or any variation there of, waft through the airs of the farmer’s market.

And then, just past the end of the strip, on the corner of Matilija and Montgomery, is Theater 150, a jewelbox of a space with an appropriately theatrical history.  The company began in a pool hall in 1996, True West was their first production and after attending, Sam Shepard said, “Their production was one of the best I’ve ever seen.”  A decade later, the company moved into a bankrupt mortuary.  It was 2006, the same year that the local hospital closed down their maternity ward.  The local joke goes that you can no longer be born or die in Ojai.  Ironically, the theater scene is alive and well.

The morgue’s two smaller rooms are used for an office space and a cozy 50 seat theater.  The embalming room, where bodies were drained and painted, has morphed into the kitchen. And the largest viewing room has become a acoustically perfect 99 seat mainstage.

Chirs Nottoli and Debra Norton, the co-artistic directors have been drawing a high caliber of talent since taking over.

Their production of The Common Air was strong.  And their audiences responded.  People often ask about the difference between west coast and east coast audiences.  I can’t say I have found many.  People who attend plays are in general curious and engaged.  Some are even looking for a challenge.  Even in Hollywood this is true.  But there is a certain appreciation in a place like Ojai that is absent in NYC and LA.

We get spoiled in Manhattan with all the options for great nights out.  Critics in the city take pride in being unimpressed, even while lobbing expletives at playwrights like Stoppared and Mamet and McDonagh. LA’s nearly tangible desperation often clouds people from letting their guard down enough to be moved.  The feedback in that city is inevitably couched in contemporary movie and tv show examples. It’s a tragic vernacular, really.  All while they’re telling you to end it up.

Things happen a little different in Ojai.  The show hit a metaphorical sweet spot with the audience there.  They were very clear on the message of the show.  In today’s complex world, people often lose what’s real.  They have seen their share of good work pass through: American Buffalo, Fuddy Meers, Stop Kiss, I am My Own Wife, Hamlet.

Their next production might be the best of all.  It’s an original play Chris and Deb have co-written, in which the two leads, played by themselves, will be married, as a way for Chris and Deb to actually get married in real life.  Invited guests are the audience, and ticket sales are going to the theaters budget for the next year.  Like I said, things happen a little differently in Ojai.