What should I say about God? What should anybody say about It?

I guess I should say I'm not talking about the omnipotent being who causes fanatical followers to do whatever they want in Its name. I'm talking about the Woody Allen comedy that he wrote in 1975 and I directed this month.

Since the mid-90s, I've been a big Woody Allen fan. I've watched at least 30 of his movies, 20 of which are good, 10 are great, and five are brilliant. I think he's a genius, and I bet you've seen a dozen of his films by accident. Of course, there's the whole Mia Farrow issue that made Woody Allen hated among many women. If you've paid attention, he's ridiculed himself many times over in his films for this transgression, among others.

In the world of theatre, his works are less known, dated and jokey. I acted in a play called "Riverside Drive" which he wrote in the 90s. It involved an eccentric bum, a business man who had an affair, and the mistress. I was the bum, and we told jokes for about an hour. It was fun, funny and quick. I always thought that would be a good recipe for a crowd pleaser.

After directing hard-hitting, critically-acclaimed, powerhouse theatrical productions (that were modestly attended), I decided to put my theory to the test and directed "God (a play)" by Woody Allen. This was much like his early funny ones and was one of the last things he wrote before Annie Hall. It has 22 characters and is chock full of jokes.

While I think it's one of his funniest plays, Woody stuck in a whole bunch of New York references. While that plays well on Broadway, Albuquerque audiences wouldn't get them. I decided to doctor the script and switched all the NY references to NM ones. I also decided that with so many characters I would cast as many people as I could, regardless of acting experience. I needed people, not actors. Okay, three actors.

19 people auditioned, and I offered all of them parts (although most were brief). Only two said 'No,' so I went with an army of 17 people, including my brother and fellow columnist Matt. He played God, no relation.

The play went like this: two Greeks walk into a play, talk about the play they are writing for the Athenian Drama Festival, realize they are in a play themselves, bring a girl on stage, wonder about reality, break every rule of theatre, and start their play halfway through the actual play. It falls apart at the end, as was warned in the beginning, and everyone goes home in less than an hour of silly theatre. Now that's culture!

The first three weeks of rehearsal were easy. Three rehearsals a week, two hours a night. This thing directs itself, I thought. With two weeks to open, I realized something disturbing. The play wasn't funny. The lead actor was funny, but not much else was. Even though people had minimal lines, some didn't know them. If they did know their lines, they didn't know how to make them funny. I explained timing, punch lines, and exaggeration. They still didn't get it. I stuck to the mantra: Bigger, faster, funnier. Bigger, Faster, Funnier. BIGGER, FASTER, FUNNIER! Why is that so hard?

To top it off, I almost maimed my brother the first night of Tech Week. Our one technical gimmick was to have him come down from the rafters, drop down fifteen feet with ropes and pulleys, and let him say his Zeus lines. That night, the backstage hands let go of the ropes and he dropped thirteen feet instantly and dangled two feet above the stage. The ropes jammed. If they hadn't, his feet would have slammed into the floor. I shudder to think how close we came to a serious accident. I still blame all those actors who said "Macbeth" in the theatre.

Of course, my vision was the real curse. I didn't have actors for most parts. I had people. It's hard to make people actors, and strangely, it's hard to make actors people. It's even harder to make people funny. I tried every trick I had. I would scold and shame them. I would give some good pep talks. I would praise and encourage and repeatmyselfrepeatmyselfrepeatmyself.

We had a preview the night before opening with about eight people in the audience, and my fears were realized. No one laughed. A couple chuckles here and there, but no laughs. I went home, dejected. This play would open and bomb. This big cast, 55 minute, jokey play was going to bury me. I never got it where I wanted it. I've lost my touch as a director. I should stop doing this altogether. I woke up in the middle of the night and quietly let my stomach eat itself, knowing I made a lousy product.

Opening night came, and so did the audience. Over 60 people packed into a theatre more accustomed to twenty (it officially seats 84). The play began, and something strange happened. The audience laughed about twenty seconds into the play. Then they did it again. And again. And again and again! The local reviewer was there, and by Sunday, we had a good review. People liked this play with no plot and a bunch of people with silly things to say, especially with local references.

For the three weekend run, we never had an audience of less than 60, and we did something the theatre had never done. We Sold Out! Twice actually. I hadn't directed a sold-out show in six years, and it was a community theatre production of a Woody Allen one act that did the trick. Who knew?

I have no illusions of how good the show really was. It was a good little play, not a great one. It could have been a lot better, but maybe it couldn't. Maybe this play can really only be done by community people or school children. Maybe none of It should be taken too seriously.

That's how I'm going to think of God from now on.

Chris Jungle is a joke.