BWW Exclusive: Read an Excerpt from John Breglio's I WANNA BE A PRODUCER- Catharsis

What does a ''producer'' actually do? How does one travel from that great idea for a show to a smash hit opening night on Broadway? John Breglio cannot guarantee you a hit, but he does take the reader on a fascinating journey behind-the-scenes to where he himself once stood as a child, dreaming about the theatre.

Part memoir, part handbook, I Wanna Be a Producer is a road map to the hows and wherefores, the dos and don'ts of producing a Broadway play, written by a Broadway veteran with more than 40 years of experience. This comprehensive and highly informative book features practical analysis and concepts for the producer and is filled with entertaining anecdotes from Breglio's illustrious career as a leading theatrical lawyer and producer. Breglio recounts not only his first-hand knowledge of the crucial legal and business issues faced by a producer, but also his experiences behind the scenes with literally hundreds of producers, playwrights, composers, and directors, including such theatre luminaries as Michael Bennett, Joe Papp, Stephen Sondheim, Andrew Lloyd Webber, Patti Lupone, and August Wilson.

Whether you are a working or aspiring producer, an investor, or are just curious about the backstage reality of the theater, Breglio shares his knowledge and experience of the industry, conveying practical information set against the real-life stories of those who have devoted their lives to the craft.

To purchase today, visit: https://www.amazon.com

BroadwayWorld is excited to bring you an exclusive excerpt below!

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27

Catharsis

Opening Night

Nothing should be more liberating than an opening night. It is the apotheosis of celebration for a Broadway show-a night to congratulate the army of creators, performers, technicians, staff, and, of course, your investors, for their determination, perseverance, and faith (against all odds) in bringing an idea, conjured up years ago, to a Broadway stage. For the producer, it should also be a time to put behind all the anxieties and pent-up emotions accumulated during the many years of preparation. And for the creative team, it should be a glamorous and exhilarating experience. The truth is, however, openings are much more complicated affairs.

For the producer, high anxiety still prevails as he waits out the critics' verdicts and contemplates inheriting a flop, struggling with a middling success, or hitting the jackpot. For the authors, the same emotions take hold, but it's more personal for them. Their reputations as artists (and egos) are on the line. Veteran authors and actors know the sting of being lambasted and the unfettered joy of being praised. For the uninitiated, well, they will just have to learn what it's like either way. (I can recall a dinner one night when a wise director was giving avuncular advice to a first-time writer whose show was about to open on Broadway. We all suspected the critics were not going to be kind. The director warned that the sting of getting bad reviews on opening night doesn't end the matter. They are followed by many other reviews that keep dribbling in for days, if not weeks afterward. It's hurtful and personal.)

The celebrity of these events has faded over the years. What was once a major news story is today just another blurb in the New York Post and largely ignored on Extra or Entertainment Weekly, unless of course a movie star or highly rated TV personality is in attendance. Openings used to be black-tie affairs. Limos stretched for blocks as they lined up to discharge VIPs in front of the red-carpeted entrance to the theater. (It's now de rigueur to arrive in a black Escalade.) I recall, early in my career, snagging a ticket to the Broadway opening of a new play, Dreyfus in Rehearsal, at the Shubert Theatre. I got the seat from a friend who worked for the GM, Jack Schlissel. When we got to the theater, Schlissel stopped us at the door. He looked us over and saw we were wearing suits-not evening clothes. He switched our tickets from the orchestra to the dreaded side balcony where no one could see what we were wearing. Today, Schlissel would have been happy to see we weren't wearing jeans and a T-shirt.

In the past, the critics attended the official opening, which gave the proceedings an air of anticipation akin to waiting for the jury to decide the fate of the accused. Today, the critics attend two or three nights before the official opening, so they can ruminate and rethink their ini­tial impressions and sharpen their knives for the kill or polish their adjectives for headline-grabbing quotes. In an instant, they can decide the fate of a show ten years in the making. I'm exaggerating some­what. Today, as compared to twenty years or so ago, for better or worse, critics don't dictate a play's success or failure in the same way they did back then.

Many factors have come into play over the past twenty years that have diminished the power and influence of the critics: rapidly decreasing readership of newspapers and magazines; explosive proliferation of the Internet and social media, chat rooms, blogs, and other sites offer opinions from the guy next door and self-appointed critics; and, finally, the production of more musicals geared either toward younger audiences (a la Disney), or to those who care mostly who's starring in the show or whether it's based on a popular film....

Arriving at the Theater

By the time you've gotten to the theater for the opening, your press agent will already know a handful of reviews, but most likely not the New York Times (unless he has an inside mole). It's hard to recommend what to do about this. If you're tipped off about receiving generally negative notices, you will have lost the chance to indulge freely in well-deserved congratu­lations for everyone, free from the outside noise of the press and critics, at least for a few precious hours. There will be time enough, later that night and afterward, to bemoan a disappointing reception or revel even more in great acclaim. My advice is to tell your press agent to keep the news to himself and not meet your eyes before the evening is done, lest you pick up on his elation or despair.

As you enter the theater, don't be surprised if no one recognizes you or if the press ignores you. You're just the producer. Gone are the likes of David Merrick, David Belasco, and Flo Ziegfeld, who were recognizable figures, equal in stature and notoriety to the stars. If you have any doubt about this, watch a theatergoer stare in bewilderment as she scans the forty or so names that regularly appear above the title of a play in Playbill. Only one or two names listed on the first line are the general partners who have any legitimate producing authority. The others are major investors who may be consulted, but make no decisions. The man on the street is unaware of these distinctions....

Before the Curtain

You will want to go backstage before the curtain to hug your cast and pump up your staff and crew. Anyone who has seen The Producers knows you never say "good luck," but rather "break a leg" or "merde," a superstition peculiar to the theater that's alive and well even today. You will also have had distributed opening night gifts delivered to everyone associated with the show. They can run the gamut from modest favors with the show's logo to more lavish gifts. You should splurge on your authors, director, and other members of the core creative team. Whatever the tensions and disagreements that preceded the opening, this is a time when you need to rise above the fray and show your sincere gratitude. In my view, what's even more important is to accompany your gift with a handwritten note expressing your personal thanks.

When you're finally ready to enter the theater, don't be surprised to see that not all the best seats have been reserved for your family, friends, and investors. The theater owner will have reserved dozens of seats for himself and his family and friends, as is his right under the booking contract. Also, as noted previously, your artistic team will have been allocated five or six pairs of house seats to which they are entitled under their agreements. Your press agent will also have set aside choice seats for any celebrities or other notable guests. Meanwhile, you had better be sure you have accommodated all of your investors by affording them seating commensurate with their level of investment. Attending opening night and the party that follows are considered inalienable rights by every investor in a Broadway show. For a producer to forget that fact is to bring the wrath of God upon himself (and a sound rebuff when he asks that investor for money for his next show).

If your nerves will allow, you might want to mill around the front of house to greet your guests, but heaven knows you don't want to run into someone fuming over the fact that he's been relegated to the first balcony. Most producers are simply too anxious to chitchat before an opening. They prefer to be backstage with their cast and crew, almost as if they're in the labor room awaiting the birth of a baby. There'll be time enough later, at the party, to greet and mingle with everyone else. And let's not forget the deft Merrick touch of coming down the aisle to take his place in row E, seat 101, just a minute or two before the curtain rises.

From I Wanna Be a Producer © 2016 by John Breglio, published by Applause Theatre and Cinema Books, an imprint of Hal Leonard Corporation. Reprinted with permission of the publisher.

To purchase today, visit: https://www.amazon.com