Lautes Lego, A Retrospective

A few weeks ago I tried out another form of theatrical weirdness. Titled "Lautes Lego" and performed by the one-night-only D.I.Y. Theatre Collective, I asked my audience to build their own scenery.


Daisy Duke's Dumpster Den--a redneck roadhouse for a silly hillbilly scene.


You guessed it. With Duplo.

There is something wonderfully coarse about Duplo. Even the most inspired artistic creation by a professional sculptor looks delightfully clunky rendered in the medium. It is very difficult to build a Duplo structure with any finesse or precision, which is precisely why I chose it.


Insight Farm--for hospitality and chickens

Audience members offered a pile of building blocks intended for 3-5 year olds will not feel the need to create anything highly detailed or fancy, which allows simple form and function to shine through. Five minutes with the blocks, laughing and re-shaping, and they've come up with a good rough outline of what they want. This is useful for several reasons--it saves time, but it also offers everyone the confidence to make something creative without having to worry about it being a masterpiece. The simplicity and relative fail-safety of the medium encourages participation among persons who would otherwise feel intimidated. (sticks of modelling clay or paints and brushes would not only be more daunting, but the performers would have less of a consistent product to refer to. also, they generate waste.)


Happy Tower-Retirement Centre for the Stars! (setting for an existential crisis)


Many audience members took delight in constructing a set, but were reluctant to give it a name or theme. The building part was much more fun than thinking. This became more apparent as the night progressed and the audience became even more interested in drinking.


The Cyclops House of Seduction, made by a couple who wanted a raunchy piece.

This has been an ongoing problem in my work.

The performers, in keeping with the DIY nature of the scenery, also asked the audience to come up with first and final lines of sketches, a time limit, and asked that they select an improv game or technique to use, such as "one performer cannot talk," "do the entire scene in reverse" or "do the entire scene as if you have no clothes on." This helped form the structure for the action and allowed each piece to be tailored to the audience's fancy.

It was also needlessly difficult.

The audience, while eager to build their own sets, approached the line-writing task with reluctance and didn't want to choose an acting style at all. I think the reasons for this were many and various. While the Lego was straightforward and provided its own inspiration to a large extent, the idea of writing lines or constructing elements of play seemed too much like work. After the glee of creating a structure and seeing it projected ten times its size on the back wall, audience members wanted the performers to magically be inspired by it and create something on their own. And occasionally they could--if the structure was interesting and sensible enough. Other constructions, like the aptly-named "The Horse with a Chicken on Top and Other Stuff" (not pictured) offered the performers less than nothing to go on, meaning not only was what they came up with uninteresting, but it left them annoyed.

And therein lies the most important hitch with DIY-style theatre. Anything which relies on any creativity from the audience is highly unreliable. There are plenty of people out there who just don't have a creative bone in their bodies. Moreover, there are plenty of people who come to the theatre expecting to be passively entertained, which means if they're called upon to contribute in any meaningful way they're at a loss. They may catch on after a few minutes of diving around in their heads (think. Think!) but anyone suddenly thrown into not just an interactive environment, but a proactive role, may find themselves a little overwhelmed.

I think, if I choose to try Lego again, I'll leave it just at that. I'll have my performers prepared with a selection of scenes, or at least mix-and-match roles, that they can jump into when given a relevant set. Last time it called for barnyard activity, industry, espionage, rednecks, and lust, which is a good start. We could throw in scenes concerning retail, outer space, castles, and sporting events just to be on the safe side, but it makes more sense (and speeds processes) to prepare the performers with something they know they can do rather than expect them to come up with something brilliant on the spot.

For my own records, the rest of this post is a list of what audiences wrote--their lines and set titles. Some of the titles include suggestions for what the scene should be about, others are just the places.

Set Titles

Insight Farm
Daisy Duke's Dumpster Den
Donkey's Dockyard
Jaunty Farm. (Find the traveller's baby!)
Plane Train Crane. (the Russians are trying to blow it up!)
Aldwych, London. The Docklands. (Smugglers, Pirates, and the Crown Jewels)
(yet another) Oil Spill
Happy Tower--Retirement Centre to the Stars!
The Cyclops House of Seduction
The Horse with a Chicken on Top and Other Stuff

Lines (Audience--first and last are coupled)

I promised myself I wouldn't cry today.
Yes, I suppose the pool would be best.

I'm the last of my species, actually.
Adieu, adieu, adieu. Remember me!

Pluck me, please, treat me like your toy guitar.
He walked in, aghast to find her rolling around in the buff with her goldfish.

Mmm, cauliflower cheese.
You'll have to take me to the cells, officer.

That's a nice shoe emporium.
And other stuff.


Lines (Preset by actors, if audience would rather just select one)

Just because you've taken your top off doesn't mean I'll take you back.

If you've got anything to say, say it now.

I can't believe I ate the whole thing.

I don't love you any more.

The End.

I'll be back.

This reminds me of a Lady Gaga song.

Wait--if you're here, who's in the car?

So, are we going or not?

Just put the gun down.

I said 20 grams, not 50!

I'm sorry, it's all my fault.