Much better mood today, but as a side note to yesterday's post (and by the way, I have always truly loved Becky Meisenbach and owe her a huge email, which I hope to rectify soon...), I came up with a mini list.
CATCH PHRASES I HOPE NEVER TO HEAR AGAIN AFTER THIS SUMMER
(keep in mind most of my fellow workers are college-aged)
1. "He's in it to win it."
This is usually referring to someone's acting. What, exactly, are we trying to "win"? Me, I was trying to tell a story, I wasn't aware we were running a race of some kind. And in other uses, why on earth would you be in it without wanting to win it?
2. Anything being "fierce".
Really. Very little in summer stock musical theatre is that "fierce."
3. "I'll cut you."
Really, does anyone warrant "cutting" when your offense is that you might forget to hang up your apron or shawl?
(As a side note, I still enjoy a good "The Mailman's Got a Knife, He'll Cut You." Much more original.)
And that's enough for tonight. I'll be back tomorrow after losing my home and two of my daughters in Fiddler on the Roof.
Wednesday, June 28, 2006
Tuesday, June 27, 2006
Day Off
So we get one day off every two weeks. Always a Monday - it was yesterday. And it just made me incredibly crabby, because when you realize how short a day is, it's depressing.
I like acting as a primary profession, don't get me wrong, but I'm finding it difficult to eat, sleep, breathe, and choke nothing but this theatre and these people. To have just one day to "yourself" and to be dependent on someone who has a car to do something entertaining with that day gets pretty dreary.
I miss my autonomy. I am supposed to be a grown up, able to make my own decisions, but I have little power here. I'm dependent on a ride for anything more than getting to and from the theatre (and even there I need a ride when there's a downpour!), nearly all of my time is allotted throughout a day, and because I live with 11 women in a decrepid old house, it is impossible to keep my living space clean. Neat, sure. Clean, not possible. We don't even have a vacuum cleaner in the house. Of course, I live in the only carpeted room.
So today I am dissatisfied with everything and everyone and I've been snappy throughout the day. All the things you can imagine a gaggle of actors doing have been PISSING ME OFF. Let's have a bullet list for a moment, yes?
-People listening to musicals on their earphones, but singing aloud to them, because of course, you clearly want to hear what they are hearing, which is why they are wearing HEADPHONES
-People telling me how good I am at playing old women. Thanks, really. When I'm 60 I'll actually have work. Great.
-People who can't stop talking - often about something I clearly have no interest in. One girl took 15 minutes to convince me her sorority was the best ever and not like any other sorority and she was very Important in it. I AM 31 YEARS OLD. I WILL NOT BE JOINING YOUR SORORITY AND I DON'T CARE HOW IMPORTANT YOU ARE IN IT.
-The college kids who have no idea life exists outside of college. Someone was all hot and bothered the other day about what shows the college was doing this upcoming year, and I tried to explain that in 5 or 10 years, none of them would be able to REMEMBER what shows they did in college, but it's impossible to convey that the world might be bigger than that.
-The 20 year olds who have already planned their wedding. Sure, it could work, sure, they could be with their current partner forever. It's possible. But likely? No. You know why? Because you probably haven't even begun to know who you are yet.
-The tiny, beauty pagent winner who has a constant diet of sugar. Tonight, chocolate chip pancakes. I have enough trouble not hating her because she's beautiful - throw in the parade of things I like eating but shouldn't (she eats them without a change to her seemingly surgically altered figure - I don't that it has been, but that's how stupid perfect her tiny little body is), and honestly, I am thinking more and more about snapping her body like a dry twig by sitting on it.
-I am really over the fact that we only have one working toliet in a house of 11, soon to be 12. The plumber came to fix one of the two we had, but found that the floor was so rotten that until the floor was repaired, he couldn't replace the toliet. That was last week, and we've had a big gaping hole in the floor ever since. We covered it with a garbage bag because it was unsettling to see the basement through the floor.
-All the people reading who aren't making smart-alecy, Elizabeth-you-know-you're-right comments! I'm stuck here, people, if you have a minute, put your two cents in and say hello! (I know who some of you are, too...)
I should go to bed. Another day, another day to self-medicate the irritation with chocolate and Cheez-its.
I like acting as a primary profession, don't get me wrong, but I'm finding it difficult to eat, sleep, breathe, and choke nothing but this theatre and these people. To have just one day to "yourself" and to be dependent on someone who has a car to do something entertaining with that day gets pretty dreary.
I miss my autonomy. I am supposed to be a grown up, able to make my own decisions, but I have little power here. I'm dependent on a ride for anything more than getting to and from the theatre (and even there I need a ride when there's a downpour!), nearly all of my time is allotted throughout a day, and because I live with 11 women in a decrepid old house, it is impossible to keep my living space clean. Neat, sure. Clean, not possible. We don't even have a vacuum cleaner in the house. Of course, I live in the only carpeted room.
So today I am dissatisfied with everything and everyone and I've been snappy throughout the day. All the things you can imagine a gaggle of actors doing have been PISSING ME OFF. Let's have a bullet list for a moment, yes?
-People listening to musicals on their earphones, but singing aloud to them, because of course, you clearly want to hear what they are hearing, which is why they are wearing HEADPHONES
-People telling me how good I am at playing old women. Thanks, really. When I'm 60 I'll actually have work. Great.
-People who can't stop talking - often about something I clearly have no interest in. One girl took 15 minutes to convince me her sorority was the best ever and not like any other sorority and she was very Important in it. I AM 31 YEARS OLD. I WILL NOT BE JOINING YOUR SORORITY AND I DON'T CARE HOW IMPORTANT YOU ARE IN IT.
-The college kids who have no idea life exists outside of college. Someone was all hot and bothered the other day about what shows the college was doing this upcoming year, and I tried to explain that in 5 or 10 years, none of them would be able to REMEMBER what shows they did in college, but it's impossible to convey that the world might be bigger than that.
-The 20 year olds who have already planned their wedding. Sure, it could work, sure, they could be with their current partner forever. It's possible. But likely? No. You know why? Because you probably haven't even begun to know who you are yet.
-The tiny, beauty pagent winner who has a constant diet of sugar. Tonight, chocolate chip pancakes. I have enough trouble not hating her because she's beautiful - throw in the parade of things I like eating but shouldn't (she eats them without a change to her seemingly surgically altered figure - I don't that it has been, but that's how stupid perfect her tiny little body is), and honestly, I am thinking more and more about snapping her body like a dry twig by sitting on it.
-I am really over the fact that we only have one working toliet in a house of 11, soon to be 12. The plumber came to fix one of the two we had, but found that the floor was so rotten that until the floor was repaired, he couldn't replace the toliet. That was last week, and we've had a big gaping hole in the floor ever since. We covered it with a garbage bag because it was unsettling to see the basement through the floor.
-All the people reading who aren't making smart-alecy, Elizabeth-you-know-you're-right comments! I'm stuck here, people, if you have a minute, put your two cents in and say hello! (I know who some of you are, too...)
I should go to bed. Another day, another day to self-medicate the irritation with chocolate and Cheez-its.
Monday, June 26, 2006
Daaaarrrllliiinnnngggg
I think actors are funny. Now, I know I'm technically one of them, and so to class myself outside the bounds seems self-delusional, but I do make a distinction between actors, and "Ac-TORS" (stress on the second syllable). For me, there's a difference between someone who works as an actor and tries to do it well, and the thousands of different combinations of diva and look-at-meism from another kind of actor. I've been lucky in Chicago to work with a lot of the former, people who genuinely want to tell a story. I work with both types here.
Most of the time, I don't mind. Ac-TORS are funny, as they are usually revealing every insecurity they have with every word. The part that has bothered me in the last month is that the people I work with are lavish in their compliments, but I can't trust them. They mean well, but do they actually mean anything at all? I've no idea. I doubt they even know. Much of it is a knee-jerk reaction to working alongside each other - the compliments are because I'm standing there, and they want to be nice. I try not to do the same, I try to say nice things to the people I truly am impressed with, but I have fallen prey to it as well. Sometimes you're stuck in a room with someone and not telling them they are fabulous makes you look like a jerk.
I'd prefer to hear nothing to hearing suspect, possibly empty praise, only because the praise confuses me. I had 10 days of rehearsal. I'm turning out passable performances, not brilliant ones. The constant diet of "wow, you're so talented" bugs me because I know those comments are empty calories, and however much I try to ignore them, there doesn't seem to be much sturdier fare on offer: I don't know if there is anyone here whose comments I could actually trust.
I should be grateful - at least I'm being complimented consistently. If they thought I was dreadful, there would be a suspicous silence. I do get useful criticism on rare occasions as well.
Interestingly, we had a scathing review of Fiddler. The reviewer was a woman who publishes her reviews online, and who had mostly positive things to say about South Pacific (which I though overall was a worse production than Fiddler). She hated our Tevye, thought none of us managed to be "ethnic" enough, and complained we all seemed to be acting in different plays. Teyve was a standup comedian a la Bob Hope, I was playing Golde as Mother Courage, our Lazar Wolf playing in a realistic style and the rest of the children were turning in shiny Broadway performances. It's hard to take this reviewer seriously, a woman who will make such statements as "First and worst don’t rhyme for nothing." In a completely different review, mind you. But somehow, I think she may be right about Fiddler's shortcomings! So it confuses me how she can see the show and hate it, but all we hear from audience members is how good we are.
I guess it's a question of audiences. Our audiences are old. Exceptionally old. And we are churning out a season of live movies for them. Someone backstage complained about not having originality in a show, and I couldn't help saying, "That's not what this theatre is about. That's just not the gig." We're here to give people a live version of something they've already seen. It makes them happy.
And I'm left wondering, is the fact that we're keeping audiences happy enough?
Most of the time, I don't mind. Ac-TORS are funny, as they are usually revealing every insecurity they have with every word. The part that has bothered me in the last month is that the people I work with are lavish in their compliments, but I can't trust them. They mean well, but do they actually mean anything at all? I've no idea. I doubt they even know. Much of it is a knee-jerk reaction to working alongside each other - the compliments are because I'm standing there, and they want to be nice. I try not to do the same, I try to say nice things to the people I truly am impressed with, but I have fallen prey to it as well. Sometimes you're stuck in a room with someone and not telling them they are fabulous makes you look like a jerk.
I'd prefer to hear nothing to hearing suspect, possibly empty praise, only because the praise confuses me. I had 10 days of rehearsal. I'm turning out passable performances, not brilliant ones. The constant diet of "wow, you're so talented" bugs me because I know those comments are empty calories, and however much I try to ignore them, there doesn't seem to be much sturdier fare on offer: I don't know if there is anyone here whose comments I could actually trust.
I should be grateful - at least I'm being complimented consistently. If they thought I was dreadful, there would be a suspicous silence. I do get useful criticism on rare occasions as well.
Interestingly, we had a scathing review of Fiddler. The reviewer was a woman who publishes her reviews online, and who had mostly positive things to say about South Pacific (which I though overall was a worse production than Fiddler). She hated our Tevye, thought none of us managed to be "ethnic" enough, and complained we all seemed to be acting in different plays. Teyve was a standup comedian a la Bob Hope, I was playing Golde as Mother Courage, our Lazar Wolf playing in a realistic style and the rest of the children were turning in shiny Broadway performances. It's hard to take this reviewer seriously, a woman who will make such statements as "First and worst don’t rhyme for nothing." In a completely different review, mind you. But somehow, I think she may be right about Fiddler's shortcomings! So it confuses me how she can see the show and hate it, but all we hear from audience members is how good we are.
I guess it's a question of audiences. Our audiences are old. Exceptionally old. And we are churning out a season of live movies for them. Someone backstage complained about not having originality in a show, and I couldn't help saying, "That's not what this theatre is about. That's just not the gig." We're here to give people a live version of something they've already seen. It makes them happy.
And I'm left wondering, is the fact that we're keeping audiences happy enough?
Thursday, June 22, 2006
No, really, he's on the Roof, he's a Fiddler
We're already opening Fiddler on the Roof, and it has been quite a ride. Our director, who continues his frightening resemblance to Corky Sherwood in Waiting for Guffman, has been an odd and perniskety guide. The tricky part is that most of what he says is most likely a complete and utter lie, but his direction, though confusing, seems right on target. He'll gesticulate:"I've done 23 productions of Oliver - about ten years ago, I got a call to play, once again, the Artful Dodger [he would have been 50 ish then] and I said, there is not enough clown white to pack under these eyes to do that anymore." And he will give seemingly conflicting advice. Last night: "You don't need to add a character walk for any of these people. Just walk." Tonight: "They've got to be working people, they should walk like they've been working all day. The posture is here [he hunches over]."
Also, he tends to tell you something as if you've been doing it wrong, except he's just never bothered to tell you that before. Night before last I waited around on an entrance because, unbeknownst to me, he'd cut my cue line. Handy to know that, really.
That's the frustrating part - we've had 10 days of rehearsal, all while playing another show, usually twice a day, and tech was nearly the first time we'd ever run the show. So tonight at dress rehearsal when we were doing the show for really the second time ever, still grappling with costume changes and props and just getting things on and off stage, I got a ton of notes about detailed scene work I should be fixing.
But the kicker is, I should be fixing it! It's so frustrating, I don't actually have enough time to absorb all the things I'm being asked to do, I'm barely hanging on, and I feel worried and sad about all the moments I can't yet make work. I wish I could be happy I made it to the stage at all, but I'm not built like that.
I am grateful for several things. One, with the two week schedule we have, there is a scant four days in which we are only concentrating on one show - these are those days, and I am passionately grateful. We start Funny Girl on Friday. I'm also grateful South Pacific is over, over, over, and I never have to be touched by my creepy co-star ever again. Hurrah. I hate to hate him so much, but he was sleazy as well as a bad actor, and I'm happy to be rid of him. The older man playing Tevye is actually really lovely and has been a great joy. It's true, I don't kiss him at all, and that's part of the relief, but I think I would find him easier to kiss because he's at least a nice man trying to do his job well, without endless extraneous comments. I'm equally grateful to be feeling semi-well again. There's still a lot of phlegm of a morning, but at least my throat isn't sore. Singing Nellie twice a day after long rehearsals was wearing me down.
It also occurs to me I'm grateful to be here at all. Now that the evil co-star from hell has gone, I work with nice people putting on shows. Fiddler is a lovely show, great music and a moving story, and it's a pleasure to be doing what I love, even if I still feel I'm doing a sub-par job.
And with that, I head into opening Show Number 2! After tomorrow, two down, four to go!
Also, he tends to tell you something as if you've been doing it wrong, except he's just never bothered to tell you that before. Night before last I waited around on an entrance because, unbeknownst to me, he'd cut my cue line. Handy to know that, really.
That's the frustrating part - we've had 10 days of rehearsal, all while playing another show, usually twice a day, and tech was nearly the first time we'd ever run the show. So tonight at dress rehearsal when we were doing the show for really the second time ever, still grappling with costume changes and props and just getting things on and off stage, I got a ton of notes about detailed scene work I should be fixing.
But the kicker is, I should be fixing it! It's so frustrating, I don't actually have enough time to absorb all the things I'm being asked to do, I'm barely hanging on, and I feel worried and sad about all the moments I can't yet make work. I wish I could be happy I made it to the stage at all, but I'm not built like that.
I am grateful for several things. One, with the two week schedule we have, there is a scant four days in which we are only concentrating on one show - these are those days, and I am passionately grateful. We start Funny Girl on Friday. I'm also grateful South Pacific is over, over, over, and I never have to be touched by my creepy co-star ever again. Hurrah. I hate to hate him so much, but he was sleazy as well as a bad actor, and I'm happy to be rid of him. The older man playing Tevye is actually really lovely and has been a great joy. It's true, I don't kiss him at all, and that's part of the relief, but I think I would find him easier to kiss because he's at least a nice man trying to do his job well, without endless extraneous comments. I'm equally grateful to be feeling semi-well again. There's still a lot of phlegm of a morning, but at least my throat isn't sore. Singing Nellie twice a day after long rehearsals was wearing me down.
It also occurs to me I'm grateful to be here at all. Now that the evil co-star from hell has gone, I work with nice people putting on shows. Fiddler is a lovely show, great music and a moving story, and it's a pleasure to be doing what I love, even if I still feel I'm doing a sub-par job.
And with that, I head into opening Show Number 2! After tomorrow, two down, four to go!
Saturday, June 10, 2006
Fiddler on the Roof
Grrr. Or Yaaayy. Depending on your point of view. The next show is Fiddler on the Roof. I've been cast as Golde, the mother, wife of Tevye (the man who wishes he were rich). This made me quail utterly, for three reasons:
1) I have no free time whatsoever. This woman talks a LOT. When exactly am I going to learn these lines?
2) I am playing Nellie for 8 shows a week while rehearsing Fiddler. Today, for instance, after 4 hours of music rehearsals and 2 separate 3 hour shows of SP, my throat is fried.
3) SSSIIIIIGGGGGHHHHH. I was soo looking forward to shucking off this ridiculous older man playing Emile who is such a dreadful dreadful actor and such an irritating man. And now I am saddled with the next older man, who at least seems much nicer and more talented. I'm told he has notoriously bad breath, but I don't think Golde and Tevye ever actually kiss. It looks, so far, like a much better deal. But there's no getting around the fact that I'm trading one old man for another.
In other news, I ended up in a disturbing conversation today with a different bizarre cast member. I made a comment that he wrongly interpreted as a compliment (it was merely a comment), and he felt duty bound to return the compliment and started telling me that his friend came to see the show and completely bought into the romance between myself and the older man. He says the older man talks in the dressing room about how great I am, which led to "Bob" telling me that when someone feels something in real life, it makes the onstage romance so much more believable.
UUUGGGHHHH. I cannot begin to express how creepy I find the implication that my fellow actor has any excess feeling for me. Kill me now. I want to find more charity in my heart, but when I allow it, I AHBOR that man. And he's telling people in the dressing room how easy it is to look into my eyes....I'm appalled.
Best to stop thinking about it.
By the way, I made a massive error. When I found out I was Golde, I had a minor fit, trying to figure out how I was going to handle learning the lines. This led to the stage manager taking me aside to make sure I was all right, and me generally feeling like a fool. Clearly it's a nice opportunity, and all I did was whine? Sometimes I am stupid like rock.
We met the Fiddler director today, and that made me heave another large internal sigh. I still wish I were just in the company and could escape his attention. He is short, in his sixties, gay, Jewish, and apparently a pathological liar. When he talks, you think you're seeing a cut-rate version of a Broadway gay, high-strung choreographer. His speech to the company today was strewn with highly suspicious embellishments and pointless condescending "advice". He claims his bar mitzvah was held at the Wailing Wall and 100 family members flew over to attend. He claims to have been the actual Fiddler on the roof in a production directed by Jerome Robbins. He tells us that we are getting paid to do what we would do for free, and being rewarded by applause. People with 8 figure bonuses never get that, he says. (I don't think that's true.) If you want to know who you are, look at the people who love you, but if you want to know if you're good, look at the people who respect you. (I'm not sure that's exactly true either, but it does sound nice - like he's got an aphorism notebook somewhere.)
I spent the whole time rolling my eyes. Clearly, there's no room for anything in the room except this guy's ego. I'll let you know how I manage to survive. Or if.
Photo is from the show (if the upload works) - me as Nellie (in Honey Bun) with the rest of the girls who are fabulously dressed, and I hope will all play leads before the summer is over.
And just to brag, I date the cleverest, most lovely man ever - he sent me a package of mix CDs - one for each week we've been apart, each themed. Week one has songs about missing someone, week two (opening night) has a dozen songs about roses (including a truly unique version of The Rose by Conway Twitty) and week three is about travel: he's coming to visit.
He's the greatest.
More drama as it unfolds.
1) I have no free time whatsoever. This woman talks a LOT. When exactly am I going to learn these lines?
2) I am playing Nellie for 8 shows a week while rehearsing Fiddler. Today, for instance, after 4 hours of music rehearsals and 2 separate 3 hour shows of SP, my throat is fried.
3) SSSIIIIIGGGGGHHHHH. I was soo looking forward to shucking off this ridiculous older man playing Emile who is such a dreadful dreadful actor and such an irritating man. And now I am saddled with the next older man, who at least seems much nicer and more talented. I'm told he has notoriously bad breath, but I don't think Golde and Tevye ever actually kiss. It looks, so far, like a much better deal. But there's no getting around the fact that I'm trading one old man for another.
In other news, I ended up in a disturbing conversation today with a different bizarre cast member. I made a comment that he wrongly interpreted as a compliment (it was merely a comment), and he felt duty bound to return the compliment and started telling me that his friend came to see the show and completely bought into the romance between myself and the older man. He says the older man talks in the dressing room about how great I am, which led to "Bob" telling me that when someone feels something in real life, it makes the onstage romance so much more believable.
UUUGGGHHHH. I cannot begin to express how creepy I find the implication that my fellow actor has any excess feeling for me. Kill me now. I want to find more charity in my heart, but when I allow it, I AHBOR that man. And he's telling people in the dressing room how easy it is to look into my eyes....I'm appalled.
Best to stop thinking about it.
By the way, I made a massive error. When I found out I was Golde, I had a minor fit, trying to figure out how I was going to handle learning the lines. This led to the stage manager taking me aside to make sure I was all right, and me generally feeling like a fool. Clearly it's a nice opportunity, and all I did was whine? Sometimes I am stupid like rock.
We met the Fiddler director today, and that made me heave another large internal sigh. I still wish I were just in the company and could escape his attention. He is short, in his sixties, gay, Jewish, and apparently a pathological liar. When he talks, you think you're seeing a cut-rate version of a Broadway gay, high-strung choreographer. His speech to the company today was strewn with highly suspicious embellishments and pointless condescending "advice". He claims his bar mitzvah was held at the Wailing Wall and 100 family members flew over to attend. He claims to have been the actual Fiddler on the roof in a production directed by Jerome Robbins. He tells us that we are getting paid to do what we would do for free, and being rewarded by applause. People with 8 figure bonuses never get that, he says. (I don't think that's true.) If you want to know who you are, look at the people who love you, but if you want to know if you're good, look at the people who respect you. (I'm not sure that's exactly true either, but it does sound nice - like he's got an aphorism notebook somewhere.)
I spent the whole time rolling my eyes. Clearly, there's no room for anything in the room except this guy's ego. I'll let you know how I manage to survive. Or if.
Photo is from the show (if the upload works) - me as Nellie (in Honey Bun) with the rest of the girls who are fabulously dressed, and I hope will all play leads before the summer is over.
And just to brag, I date the cleverest, most lovely man ever - he sent me a package of mix CDs - one for each week we've been apart, each themed. Week one has songs about missing someone, week two (opening night) has a dozen songs about roses (including a truly unique version of The Rose by Conway Twitty) and week three is about travel: he's coming to visit.
He's the greatest.
More drama as it unfolds.
Friday, June 09, 2006
Opening of South Pacific
So much happens so quickly when you put a show up in ten days. The last few nights, I have chosen to go to bed at 2 am instead of updating here, but here are some highlights I'll have to abbrevaiate (tonight I'm staying up an extra 30 minutes for this!):
We have one house member, who I'll call Lulu, who is utterly, mind-bogglingly young and dim. This girl couldn't find her dishes when we put them in the cupboards. No, really: "Has anyone seen my colander? It was in the drying rack...oh, it's here in the cupboard?" She's only 19, I think, and clearly wants a lot more attention than any of us have the patience to give her. We all want to slap her. During tech, all the girls got into their "playtime" costumes for SP's "wash That Man" number. These costumes are very 40's and very cute: bathing suits with super squared off legs, little patterned tops, one girl has a leopard print belt with matching leopard bandana and sunglasses - completely Hollywood! Everyone looks adorable. Lulu is, I'll grant you, in a pink bathing suit with her hair in two braids, but she was so entranced with this costume that she had the poor taste to say, OUT LOUD, to all the other girls:
"Oh, look! I'm the cute one! I didn't know they were going to make me the cute one!"
I should take bets on how long it will take before someone actually does physically injure her. Some day ask me for my impression of her explaining how she fell off the stage the other day during a dance number.
To change the subject, I am ambivalent to report that the cast list for Cats went up early, and my name appears no where at all upon it. As in, currently, I have no role whatsoever in the show. There are rumors of "pit singers" - I am one of about 4 or 5 company members missing from the cast list, so we're not sure what they'll do with us. I admit, it's a blow. (How clearly can a choreographer put it that your dancing sucks if not to sinply leave you out of a show??) But on the other hand, I don't yet know what kind of nightmare I'll be avoiding by not being in the show. So, the jury's out. More on that two cycles later, when we actually start rehearsing it.
Tomorrow the cast list goes up for the next show: Fiddler on the Roof. I am hoping to have a small role so as to be able to concentrate on Nellie in SP, but we'll see. The rumors have been flying. Our director from SP calls these casting days "Black Fridays" because so many people are disappointed.
SP is open. We did two performances today, the afternoon to an audience even older than I could have imagined. (We have slots for wheelchairs, and we ALWAYS use them. ALWAYS.) Sadly, I think I killed one of the audience in a blackout, while hauling a crate offstage. The show is fine - I feel a little wooden about it, because the guy playing Emile really is not my cup of tea. (Twnety+ years in sales explained a little of that to me - you can imagine.) I want to be good enough to act beyond him, but he gives me very little to play against. Even our director has been heard to say he plays the role like Captain Kirk. He's gotten a lot better, and he still sounds beautiful singing, he's just very condescending, which for me ruins the romance of Nellie and Emile. She says the attraction is that they are the same kind of people - well, if he's busy winking at her and thinking how "cute" she is, it's more like he's looking for a daughter and she's looking for a father. Creepy. I want to be able to think past his performance, but I just can't seem to find the emotional depth I'm looking for. It's all mechanical. Shame. It's not bad, it just lacks life, and as much as these audiences may not notice the difference, I know there is one and wish I could make the leap.
And yes, he does wink at me on stage, despite childishly denying it to our director during notes yesterday. People are crazy here.
I have a ton of good excuses for my mechanical performance: Emile's dreadful, we've only had ten days, blah, blah, blah, but they are excuses. I wish I knew how to get beyond them to a fuller performance. Maybe I'll discover it over the 2 week run.
In the meantime, I need to get some sleep if I have any chance at doing a good show tomorrow. More dish then, and more of the ridiculous backstage snafus that have been going on. Plus, tales of the Turnpike, the dive bar down the road we go to on opening nights. Until then, g'night. Acting advice will be welcomed if it doesn't involve pretending to be a tree.
We have one house member, who I'll call Lulu, who is utterly, mind-bogglingly young and dim. This girl couldn't find her dishes when we put them in the cupboards. No, really: "Has anyone seen my colander? It was in the drying rack...oh, it's here in the cupboard?" She's only 19, I think, and clearly wants a lot more attention than any of us have the patience to give her. We all want to slap her. During tech, all the girls got into their "playtime" costumes for SP's "wash That Man" number. These costumes are very 40's and very cute: bathing suits with super squared off legs, little patterned tops, one girl has a leopard print belt with matching leopard bandana and sunglasses - completely Hollywood! Everyone looks adorable. Lulu is, I'll grant you, in a pink bathing suit with her hair in two braids, but she was so entranced with this costume that she had the poor taste to say, OUT LOUD, to all the other girls:
"Oh, look! I'm the cute one! I didn't know they were going to make me the cute one!"
I should take bets on how long it will take before someone actually does physically injure her. Some day ask me for my impression of her explaining how she fell off the stage the other day during a dance number.
To change the subject, I am ambivalent to report that the cast list for Cats went up early, and my name appears no where at all upon it. As in, currently, I have no role whatsoever in the show. There are rumors of "pit singers" - I am one of about 4 or 5 company members missing from the cast list, so we're not sure what they'll do with us. I admit, it's a blow. (How clearly can a choreographer put it that your dancing sucks if not to sinply leave you out of a show??) But on the other hand, I don't yet know what kind of nightmare I'll be avoiding by not being in the show. So, the jury's out. More on that two cycles later, when we actually start rehearsing it.
Tomorrow the cast list goes up for the next show: Fiddler on the Roof. I am hoping to have a small role so as to be able to concentrate on Nellie in SP, but we'll see. The rumors have been flying. Our director from SP calls these casting days "Black Fridays" because so many people are disappointed.
SP is open. We did two performances today, the afternoon to an audience even older than I could have imagined. (We have slots for wheelchairs, and we ALWAYS use them. ALWAYS.) Sadly, I think I killed one of the audience in a blackout, while hauling a crate offstage. The show is fine - I feel a little wooden about it, because the guy playing Emile really is not my cup of tea. (Twnety+ years in sales explained a little of that to me - you can imagine.) I want to be good enough to act beyond him, but he gives me very little to play against. Even our director has been heard to say he plays the role like Captain Kirk. He's gotten a lot better, and he still sounds beautiful singing, he's just very condescending, which for me ruins the romance of Nellie and Emile. She says the attraction is that they are the same kind of people - well, if he's busy winking at her and thinking how "cute" she is, it's more like he's looking for a daughter and she's looking for a father. Creepy. I want to be able to think past his performance, but I just can't seem to find the emotional depth I'm looking for. It's all mechanical. Shame. It's not bad, it just lacks life, and as much as these audiences may not notice the difference, I know there is one and wish I could make the leap.
And yes, he does wink at me on stage, despite childishly denying it to our director during notes yesterday. People are crazy here.
I have a ton of good excuses for my mechanical performance: Emile's dreadful, we've only had ten days, blah, blah, blah, but they are excuses. I wish I knew how to get beyond them to a fuller performance. Maybe I'll discover it over the 2 week run.
In the meantime, I need to get some sleep if I have any chance at doing a good show tomorrow. More dish then, and more of the ridiculous backstage snafus that have been going on. Plus, tales of the Turnpike, the dive bar down the road we go to on opening nights. Until then, g'night. Acting advice will be welcomed if it doesn't involve pretending to be a tree.
Thursday, June 01, 2006
IV
Our director is incredibly useful and switched on - everyone seems to love him, partly because he is friendly and doesn't take himself or the play too seriously, and partly because his notes are practical: "Make your voice higher there," or "Make sure you plant so you have enough support for that line." He doesn't tell you how to feel, he gives you help on what to DO, which helps shortcut a lot of confusion when you have a whole 10 days to put a show together.
I thought I was the only one getting irritated with the leading man. He's clearly talented, and has a beautiful voice, but he spends so much time apologizing or giving explanations for a mistake that I would love this to be a play in which I slap the man silly. He's always full of wind blown compliments that I just can't take seriously, and on top of the hemming and hawing, adds a lot of useless, "Oh, we'll make it work," and "That's our job, to give you directors what you want!"
For instance, in the middle of a scene, he might break character and turn his head and say, "What's that line? Damn, I can never get that right, I don't know what my problem is. I had it last night, but now it's just gone. Well, I'll get it. That's my job!" Then we can finally continue with the work. EVERY mistake gets some variation of this palaver.
So our director, bless him, mentions today that if we forget something, we should just stay with the moment and call for a line. Great, I think, wonderful. I am not the only person who noticed this. I was sitting nearby when maybe 5 minutes later, we got yet another oh-so-sorry monologue, and I could hear our director mutter under his breath, "God, Sam! Just stay with the damn scene!!!"
It's nice to find you aren't alone in an irritation.
I thought I was the only one getting irritated with the leading man. He's clearly talented, and has a beautiful voice, but he spends so much time apologizing or giving explanations for a mistake that I would love this to be a play in which I slap the man silly. He's always full of wind blown compliments that I just can't take seriously, and on top of the hemming and hawing, adds a lot of useless, "Oh, we'll make it work," and "That's our job, to give you directors what you want!"
For instance, in the middle of a scene, he might break character and turn his head and say, "What's that line? Damn, I can never get that right, I don't know what my problem is. I had it last night, but now it's just gone. Well, I'll get it. That's my job!" Then we can finally continue with the work. EVERY mistake gets some variation of this palaver.
So our director, bless him, mentions today that if we forget something, we should just stay with the moment and call for a line. Great, I think, wonderful. I am not the only person who noticed this. I was sitting nearby when maybe 5 minutes later, we got yet another oh-so-sorry monologue, and I could hear our director mutter under his breath, "God, Sam! Just stay with the damn scene!!!"
It's nice to find you aren't alone in an irritation.
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