It has been a long time since I did a show with a smallish cast and few teenagers and no kids at all. Guess what happens when this kind of show is created? LOTS OF LAUGHTER.
It's helpful when the cast are all talented actors, eager to do a good job, and many of us know each other from other avenues.
Tonight's first run through was choppy, long, boring in places, a little ridiculous, and about as unpolished as you can get. It was also completely hiliarious. So many one-liners, ad libs, pratfalls not in the script. Everyone teases one another. It's hard to stay in character. It's hard for me to want to stay in character. This melding of real life and the stage is too fun!
I still don't have my lines down perfectly. I'm not the only one, but before I went to rehearsal I was perfect. I am bothered that I don't have the lines perfect. I worry they won't want me to be in another show. Worry worry worry about this in every show I'm in.
Tomorrow is run through #2. Monday--tech night. Tues--dress rehearsal. Wed--Opening Night. Can we say we aren't ready? Um yeah. But at this point, I am going to chalk up this play as some of the best laughs I've had. I'm honored to be working with these people, and excited to spend the next week with them.
Keep playing!
Friday, September 30, 2011
Thursday, September 29, 2011
Impossible Mystery--6--The Gossip Circle Rocks!
I wore my hat, my glasses @ the end of my nose, my gloves, and hung my handbag over my shoulder. This was my nod to Lady Chattaway tonight. It's surprising how important getting used to costumes and props is. I wore my glasses for Prudy for a month before they really felt natural.
The two women I play in the Gossip Circle with, Kendra and Bonnie, are wonderful. We are very silly, but slightly competitive, and it is So. Much. Fun.
I still don't have my lines memorized and left my script at rehearsal. Crap. Other than that, a total pleasure, though several of the people in the scene are rushing their lines. Why does this happen so often? Slow, loud, expressive! Say it with me over and over again: Slow, loud, expressive. Ad infinitum.
I also was able to get a teenager friend of ours, Corena, not just one part in the play, but FOUR! She is a ninja, a maid named Mary (with a few lines--Speak up Corena! (she's kind of quiet)), in the Highlight Club scene, and as a policeman. My son Caden is going to do tech and play a policeman, but can't make it to the final night.
"Impossible Mystery" is just shaping up to be such a pleasure.
Yeah theater!
Keep Playing!
The two women I play in the Gossip Circle with, Kendra and Bonnie, are wonderful. We are very silly, but slightly competitive, and it is So. Much. Fun.
I still don't have my lines memorized and left my script at rehearsal. Crap. Other than that, a total pleasure, though several of the people in the scene are rushing their lines. Why does this happen so often? Slow, loud, expressive! Say it with me over and over again: Slow, loud, expressive. Ad infinitum.
I also was able to get a teenager friend of ours, Corena, not just one part in the play, but FOUR! She is a ninja, a maid named Mary (with a few lines--Speak up Corena! (she's kind of quiet)), in the Highlight Club scene, and as a policeman. My son Caden is going to do tech and play a policeman, but can't make it to the final night.
"Impossible Mystery" is just shaping up to be such a pleasure.
Yeah theater!
Keep Playing!
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Character Development--1
I remember the first time I really realized that it took time to really develop your character for a performance. I was the lead in a Tennessee William's one-act called "Twenty-Seven Wagons Full of Cotton." I played Flora. Here's Wikipedia's summary about the show:
I loved playing Flora, after I spent hours talking to the guys who played Jake and Silva, trying to figure out how this all could work onstage. BRAGGING MOMENT: When I auditioned for the part, which was kind of a cattle call for all the student directors for their final project, my director told me she was so happy to have gotten me. All the directors wanted me. (Blushing but not really...)
I admit, I spent so much time on talking to the director and the other two actors in the play that I didn't learn my lines well enough and had one horrible moment in one of the performances where I couldn't get out. It was during the fight/seduction scene and back and forth Silva and I went until I could remember the line that would pull us back on track. Ugh. I remember the total panic about that, right there onstage, being hauled back and forth. Yipes times infinity. (You'd think I'd be better about learning my lines after that, wouldn't you? <sigh>)
The last scene of that play I come out with black and blue marks that I frantically put on backstage to look like the bruises Silva gave me. If you want to do this, just to tell you, it's blue and purple eyeshadow covered with blush. It looks very cool from the audience, or so I was told.
There are whole courses on character development, books about it, and tons of info about it on the net. Essentially, it is essential. Nice redundancy on my part, yeah? I will speak on this further, but for now, I want to say that I appreciate the directors and fellow actors I've worked with who've encouraged me to look into myself and find the character I'm playing. By doing this, when I'm onstage, I don't just stand there like a lump. I respond with actions, facial expressions, even with a spiritual connection, it seems to me, with the others onstage with me.
Keep playing! Play your part until it is you.
27 Wagons Full of Cotton
27 Wagons Full of Cotton is a 1946 one-act that Williams referred to as "a Mississippi Delta comedy." In it, Jake, a middle-aged, shady cotton gin owner burns down the mill of Silva Vicarro, a rival in the cotton business. His rival, who knows what happened but cannot prove it, seeks revenge by seducing Jake's young, frail, delicate wife, Flora. Elia Kazan's controversial 1956 movie Baby Doll was based on this play. Incidentally, the play's title is written as a line of trochaic pentameter (e.g. TWENty SEVen WAGons FULL of COTTon).I loved playing Flora, after I spent hours talking to the guys who played Jake and Silva, trying to figure out how this all could work onstage. BRAGGING MOMENT: When I auditioned for the part, which was kind of a cattle call for all the student directors for their final project, my director told me she was so happy to have gotten me. All the directors wanted me. (Blushing but not really...)
I admit, I spent so much time on talking to the director and the other two actors in the play that I didn't learn my lines well enough and had one horrible moment in one of the performances where I couldn't get out. It was during the fight/seduction scene and back and forth Silva and I went until I could remember the line that would pull us back on track. Ugh. I remember the total panic about that, right there onstage, being hauled back and forth. Yipes times infinity. (You'd think I'd be better about learning my lines after that, wouldn't you? <sigh>)
The last scene of that play I come out with black and blue marks that I frantically put on backstage to look like the bruises Silva gave me. If you want to do this, just to tell you, it's blue and purple eyeshadow covered with blush. It looks very cool from the audience, or so I was told.
There are whole courses on character development, books about it, and tons of info about it on the net. Essentially, it is essential. Nice redundancy on my part, yeah? I will speak on this further, but for now, I want to say that I appreciate the directors and fellow actors I've worked with who've encouraged me to look into myself and find the character I'm playing. By doing this, when I'm onstage, I don't just stand there like a lump. I respond with actions, facial expressions, even with a spiritual connection, it seems to me, with the others onstage with me.
Keep playing! Play your part until it is you.
Impossible Mystery--5--The Japanese scene ~or~ I am One Hot Grandma!
We are rehearsing for "The Impossible Mystery" on Tuesday nights at Larsen Elementary School. Well, we did last night, but since next Tuesday is dress rehearsal, I guess I should have written, we were rehearsing on Tuesday nights, blah blah blah. Anyhow, about Larsen--I like rehearsing there for several reasons--one being that it is right across the street from my house. Quick walk. Nice. It also was the school my son went to. Some fond memories. The place a cute little stage thingie and basically just a good vibe.
I walked over to the school with my friend Kendra who plays Ping and a Ninja in this scene. I had been practicing my lines, which are so few I'm embarrassed to say I was still struggling with them. I will write the lines out so you can see what I mean. I'm not putting the other lines in, but you will notice my lines are a little random, even when they're within the scene. I play a deaf, old, and apparently insane Japanese grandma.
Here are my lines:
What?
You want to climb a tree?
Oh! Whee!
Tea? No tea here. No tea. Now, you go away!
What? You've got a flea?
A rash on your knee?
You don't have to yell. We make special tea for emperor today. We deliver it tonight. Now, you go away.
You can't see her.
I said, YOU CAN'T SEE HER. I think you should have your hearing checked.
Hi-ya!
No thanks. I already ate.
You say you're out to sea?
As I type out those lines, I want to write out the stage direction on them. I think that's funny for some reason.
I wore my costume onstage last night, over a thick pair of shorts and a big baggy t-shirt. I'm sure the outfit will be much cooler, in several connotations of that word, when I'm not wearing so many clothes underneath. I wear a very colorful robe kind of thing with a yellow cumberbund, black silk pants, my gold flip flops, and a yellow scarf over my hair. And on top of my head--a felt hat, double black felt, I'll have you know, that is shaped in a circle with a pointy top. This hat is the hottest thing I've ever worn on my head, including ski hats. It trapped so much heat inside me, I had one of the various children that always seem to be running around during rehearsal fan me with one of the bamboo fans used earlier in the scene. Ahh. The privilege of being a 'star' to these kids, and being bossy enough to have them do what I want. With all that color and all that sweat, I felt like Oba San may be the first hippie. (grin)
We had some fun last night--lots of physical action in this scene. Cami, the writer and director, plays The Jade Dragon in this scene, and her three teenage kids are also in the scene. I have to say, her kids were hilarious, and she was patient and willing to laugh at herself as they laughed at her. "This is a spoof, after all," she kept saying, a huge smile on her face. I will say, too, Cami's costume is very cool. It is a Japanese style dress and belonged to her Aunt Fern. I was aware that anyone was ever really named Fern, and for some reason, this whole aspect about the show delights me.
As we walked in, there was a lot of banter between the characters with my lines, which all rhyme. We were talking about my HAT, and it's as black as a CAT, and what do you think of THAT? I love to rhyme. I do it all the...--wait for it--...time.
Everyone in this scene is a lot of fun. I'm beginning to believe that everyone in the whole darn show is fun, and once we start run-throughs, I will find this out for myself.
Keep playing! And I really mean that.
This is Kendra, who is with two of my horses, Hank (the blond), and PJ (the brunette)
I walked over to the school with my friend Kendra who plays Ping and a Ninja in this scene. I had been practicing my lines, which are so few I'm embarrassed to say I was still struggling with them. I will write the lines out so you can see what I mean. I'm not putting the other lines in, but you will notice my lines are a little random, even when they're within the scene. I play a deaf, old, and apparently insane Japanese grandma.
Here are my lines:
What?
You want to climb a tree?
Oh! Whee!
Tea? No tea here. No tea. Now, you go away!
What? You've got a flea?
A rash on your knee?
You don't have to yell. We make special tea for emperor today. We deliver it tonight. Now, you go away.
You can't see her.
I said, YOU CAN'T SEE HER. I think you should have your hearing checked.
Hi-ya!
No thanks. I already ate.
You say you're out to sea?
As I type out those lines, I want to write out the stage direction on them. I think that's funny for some reason.
I wore my costume onstage last night, over a thick pair of shorts and a big baggy t-shirt. I'm sure the outfit will be much cooler, in several connotations of that word, when I'm not wearing so many clothes underneath. I wear a very colorful robe kind of thing with a yellow cumberbund, black silk pants, my gold flip flops, and a yellow scarf over my hair. And on top of my head--a felt hat, double black felt, I'll have you know, that is shaped in a circle with a pointy top. This hat is the hottest thing I've ever worn on my head, including ski hats. It trapped so much heat inside me, I had one of the various children that always seem to be running around during rehearsal fan me with one of the bamboo fans used earlier in the scene. Ahh. The privilege of being a 'star' to these kids, and being bossy enough to have them do what I want. With all that color and all that sweat, I felt like Oba San may be the first hippie. (grin)
We had some fun last night--lots of physical action in this scene. Cami, the writer and director, plays The Jade Dragon in this scene, and her three teenage kids are also in the scene. I have to say, her kids were hilarious, and she was patient and willing to laugh at herself as they laughed at her. "This is a spoof, after all," she kept saying, a huge smile on her face. I will say, too, Cami's costume is very cool. It is a Japanese style dress and belonged to her Aunt Fern. I was aware that anyone was ever really named Fern, and for some reason, this whole aspect about the show delights me.
As we walked in, there was a lot of banter between the characters with my lines, which all rhyme. We were talking about my HAT, and it's as black as a CAT, and what do you think of THAT? I love to rhyme. I do it all the...--wait for it--...time.
Everyone in this scene is a lot of fun. I'm beginning to believe that everyone in the whole darn show is fun, and once we start run-throughs, I will find this out for myself.
Keep playing! And I really mean that.
Monday, September 26, 2011
Costume Eyes
While discussing in a Facebook group about the fun and foibles of doing community theater in Utah (most topic discussed is how conservative theater goers freak out over the lamest things), I realized I have become a Real Community Theater Person because I have developed Costume Eyes.
Costume Eyes are not really eyeballs. It is an activity. Here's what happens:
And I am seriously loving this!
Keep playing! (and shopping!)
Costume Eyes are not really eyeballs. It is an activity. Here's what happens:
- You are cast in a community theater play.
- You are asked to come up with at least some of your costume pieces.
- You scout around in your own wardrobe to see what will work.
- You realize that clothes you've had around forever can morph into something that would be worn years and even decades before.
- You wear the clothing and suddenly, those pieces look only like the costume and you don't want to wear them anymore, even singly and not with the other parts you wore to put together the costume. Ie: two of the outfits I wore for Prudy (see photo) are skirts and sweaters I used to wear to church sometimes. I bought the mint-colored sweater and the brooch at a secondhand store. The scarf and the taupe-colored sweater are donations from a friend. Now, I look at the skirts, sweaters, scarf, and brooch and think: I can't wear those--they're Prudy's!
- Here's the real proof when you have developed Costume Eyes. Everywhere you look, you scrutinize clothing, jewelry, makeup, shoes, everything you can possibly wear in terms of: will this work someday as a costume piece? Today I looked at some bracelets, a straw Fedora-type hat, and some fake eyelashes. I passed on them all as I figured I could get similar bracelets and hats at garage sales, and I will wait until the eyelashes go on sale after Halloween. But the point here is: I'M LOOKING!
And I am seriously loving this!
Keep playing! (and shopping!)
Thursday, September 22, 2011
September 2011 Photo Shoot
My friend Kendra is a real pal. She borrowed her mother's uber cool, deluxe in its fancy black padded bag camera today so I could have some head shots taken today. She came and picked me up and said, "You look so pretty!" There was shock in her voice. Which is understandable.
You see, I don't spend a lot of time fixing up. I exercise every day, which until the middle of winter is a sweaty prospect that ruins your hairdo so why bother getting all gussied up, hair moussed, dried, flatironed (or whatever you call it--See? I don't even know what that contraption is called!)?
But today, I colored my roots, pulled my wavy/curly hair straight, then used that flattening thingy, and put on makeup. We went to, of all places, the local Fairgrounds, which is a fancy name for the horse facility in town. We tried many photos in one location, but it was too bright and all the photos are of me smiling hugely and squinting hugely.
The second two locations turned out pretty good. The light was good, and by then I'd loosened up a bit.
Taking photos for me is embarrassing. Onstage, I can be anybody and really ham it up. But when I'm me, being me, and especially taking photos that can show that, yes, I am me, but if you cast me, I can totally look like her--well, it's icky. Uncomfortable. Embarrassing.
Kendra was patient, fun, and had some good suggestions. She made it mostly painless. And she's a good photographer. Click, click, click went her mother's camera. I kept trying to smile naturally. Many of the photos probably made me look like I was insane. I need to listen to something funny on my Ipod, shoot about 10 photos, and then put the Ipod back on.
Kendra asked me to think about a secret that nobody knows. That photo of me is pretty much me looking pissed. I guess secrets I have are anger-producing. So much for mysterious me. More like crabby, murderous me.
We were 20 minutes late for rehearsal because we were photo shooting. Ah well. It was successful, mostly. And okay, it was a little fun.
Keep playing! (And keep good, mysterious secrets, just in case you need them for a photo shoot.)
You see, I don't spend a lot of time fixing up. I exercise every day, which until the middle of winter is a sweaty prospect that ruins your hairdo so why bother getting all gussied up, hair moussed, dried, flatironed (or whatever you call it--See? I don't even know what that contraption is called!)?
But today, I colored my roots, pulled my wavy/curly hair straight, then used that flattening thingy, and put on makeup. We went to, of all places, the local Fairgrounds, which is a fancy name for the horse facility in town. We tried many photos in one location, but it was too bright and all the photos are of me smiling hugely and squinting hugely.
The second two locations turned out pretty good. The light was good, and by then I'd loosened up a bit.
Taking photos for me is embarrassing. Onstage, I can be anybody and really ham it up. But when I'm me, being me, and especially taking photos that can show that, yes, I am me, but if you cast me, I can totally look like her--well, it's icky. Uncomfortable. Embarrassing.
Kendra was patient, fun, and had some good suggestions. She made it mostly painless. And she's a good photographer. Click, click, click went her mother's camera. I kept trying to smile naturally. Many of the photos probably made me look like I was insane. I need to listen to something funny on my Ipod, shoot about 10 photos, and then put the Ipod back on.
Kendra asked me to think about a secret that nobody knows. That photo of me is pretty much me looking pissed. I guess secrets I have are anger-producing. So much for mysterious me. More like crabby, murderous me.
We were 20 minutes late for rehearsal because we were photo shooting. Ah well. It was successful, mostly. And okay, it was a little fun.
Impossible Mystery--4--The Mansion Scene
I don't have my lines learned. Trying to learn blocking, doing funny little actions, remembering which lines to react to in such and such a way while holding a script is clunky, stupid, and completely my own fault. I hate when I have no one to blame.
However, this scene is going to be adorable. I play Lady Chattaway, and am one of three tittering, gossipy English tea-drinking society ladies. The other two women, one my dear friend Kendra, and the other a beautiful, personable woman who's an awesome actress (who came prepared with her lines learned) are making this super fun. I am feeling more confident about the play as Lady Chattaway.
But I do need to sit still long enough to learn my lines! I am really way too busy, and I am horrible at memorization! What have I been thinking?
Keep playing!
However, this scene is going to be adorable. I play Lady Chattaway, and am one of three tittering, gossipy English tea-drinking society ladies. The other two women, one my dear friend Kendra, and the other a beautiful, personable woman who's an awesome actress (who came prepared with her lines learned) are making this super fun. I am feeling more confident about the play as Lady Chattaway.
But I do need to sit still long enough to learn my lines! I am really way too busy, and I am horrible at memorization! What have I been thinking?
Keep playing!
The Thriller Audition that won't happen!
I was so thrilled (yes, that is a pun) to get a call and text from the theater company's manager to be in their show. They want a ditzy blonde! Hey, that's me!
Then I talk to the director, thinking my current rehearsal and performance schedule for "The Impossible Mystery" might present some conflicts. I quickly find out that the opening night for the show is when my husband and I are going on my son's high school marching band's fall tour as chaperones.
Bummer.
As they say at the Oscars, "It was nice being nominated." But we all want the prize, don't we?
Realizing just how busy my life is, and how weird it is that I am now always thinking, what am I going to miss if I get the part in this play?
Keep playing!
Then I talk to the director, thinking my current rehearsal and performance schedule for "The Impossible Mystery" might present some conflicts. I quickly find out that the opening night for the show is when my husband and I are going on my son's high school marching band's fall tour as chaperones.
Bummer.
As they say at the Oscars, "It was nice being nominated." But we all want the prize, don't we?
Realizing just how busy my life is, and how weird it is that I am now always thinking, what am I going to miss if I get the part in this play?
Keep playing!
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
The Thriller Audition--Post #1
I'm auditioning for a show that's a thriller on Sat. The audition is on Sat, the show isn't. (My dangling modifiers won't let up in this blog apparently...) No, the show isn't The Thriller, it is a thriller. Still I thought it would be funny to show up dressed like a Thriller dancer, but maybe not as funny as I think. Thriller as in spooky shows are supposed to be, well, spooky, mysterious, Hitchcokian. Would the director think I'm sick and twisted, which I may actually want, or just lame, which is like, dumb?
So I am deciding not to wear the red space suit with super big shoulder pads. I don't have one anyway. But I would like it on record that I created some humor in regards to this. Ok?
I found two monologue pieces that might work, though we are only expected to do cold readings for the audition on Saturday. But I emailed a few days ago about the audition and "Bill", the director, 'would love it' if I have something memorized. I'm nothing if not interested in looking like The Actress Who is Willing to Follow Directions, so I am memorizing away. I wanted something spooky, but settled for something sad. I guess I could recite something from Poe. "The Raven"? Ah, this other will work. I hope.
Now that I think about it, maybe I need to find a spooky, mysterious, thrilling monologue. Or, you know, I can just dance around like a skeleton and sing, "Thriller. Thriller, yeah." Those are the lyrics, right?
Here is what I chose to do. Tell me what you think. Also, photo enclosed of the outfit I was going to wear except I don't have one. Tell me I'd look amazing in it, ok?
It doesn't bother me. When she laughs like that. She laughs at nothing or sometimes talks like in different languages that nobody can understand. She doesn't mean to, I mean she doesn't do it on purpose.
But Dad says she might always be like this. But that I should remember that no matter what she does or says that deep down in my mama's heart, a part of her still loves me... just like she always did. Like she did before the accident.
That the part of my mama that loves me will never change no matter what. And I believe that, I mean, I want to believe that....I mean I don't think that Dad would lie to me.
But still.... how can my mama still love me if she can't even remember my name.
So I am deciding not to wear the red space suit with super big shoulder pads. I don't have one anyway. But I would like it on record that I created some humor in regards to this. Ok?
I found two monologue pieces that might work, though we are only expected to do cold readings for the audition on Saturday. But I emailed a few days ago about the audition and "Bill", the director, 'would love it' if I have something memorized. I'm nothing if not interested in looking like The Actress Who is Willing to Follow Directions, so I am memorizing away. I wanted something spooky, but settled for something sad. I guess I could recite something from Poe. "The Raven"? Ah, this other will work. I hope.
Now that I think about it, maybe I need to find a spooky, mysterious, thrilling monologue. Or, you know, I can just dance around like a skeleton and sing, "Thriller. Thriller, yeah." Those are the lyrics, right?
It doesn't bother me. When she laughs like that. She laughs at nothing or sometimes talks like in different languages that nobody can understand. She doesn't mean to, I mean she doesn't do it on purpose.
But Dad says she might always be like this. But that I should remember that no matter what she does or says that deep down in my mama's heart, a part of her still loves me... just like she always did. Like she did before the accident.
That the part of my mama that loves me will never change no matter what. And I believe that, I mean, I want to believe that....I mean I don't think that Dad would lie to me.
But still.... how can my mama still love me if she can't even remember my name.
From Constellations by David Moberg
Note to readers--if you have an amazing, spooky, creepy, SHORT monologue, let me know! Thanks time infinity.
Keep playing!
Impossible Mystery--2--The Japanese scene
I play Oba San, the deaf Japanese grandma in this scene. For those of you who don't know it, Oba San means Grandma in Japanese.
Most of the players in this scene couldn't come. I might have been irritated with this, but I got to step in and do other parts and they are fun ones. I met two of the people I'll be in the scene with--Nelson, who plays Master Sato, and Dane, who is 'The Mastermind/Client." They are both good actors and nice men.
I discovered I have a Japanese accent that isn't half bad. I get to do some fun physical stuff. I get to wear an amazingly cool costume. And I don't have many lines to memorize. All good.
My worries? There are lots of special effects in this scene and I'm super hoping they go well. We have very little final rehearsal time and I'm hoping these plans pan out. It won't affect me, but it will make the scene suck. And I'm in that scene, so it may be embarrassing.
I like the director, who also wrote the show. She used to kind of intimidate me as she's somewhat unreadable. But I found a lot I liked about her and decided that I hoped she found some things in me she liked, too. She cast me, and gave me some excellent suggestions about the scene last night, so I am feeling excited and peaceful at the same time. These are good things to feel.
Sorry for the shortness of the blog, dear readers. I just don't have much more to say about last night's rehearsal!
Keep playing!
Most of the players in this scene couldn't come. I might have been irritated with this, but I got to step in and do other parts and they are fun ones. I met two of the people I'll be in the scene with--Nelson, who plays Master Sato, and Dane, who is 'The Mastermind/Client." They are both good actors and nice men.
I discovered I have a Japanese accent that isn't half bad. I get to do some fun physical stuff. I get to wear an amazingly cool costume. And I don't have many lines to memorize. All good.
My worries? There are lots of special effects in this scene and I'm super hoping they go well. We have very little final rehearsal time and I'm hoping these plans pan out. It won't affect me, but it will make the scene suck. And I'm in that scene, so it may be embarrassing.
I like the director, who also wrote the show. She used to kind of intimidate me as she's somewhat unreadable. But I found a lot I liked about her and decided that I hoped she found some things in me she liked, too. She cast me, and gave me some excellent suggestions about the scene last night, so I am feeling excited and peaceful at the same time. These are good things to feel.
Sorry for the shortness of the blog, dear readers. I just don't have much more to say about last night's rehearsal!
Keep playing!
Saturday, September 17, 2011
Hairspray Reminiscences--5--The Truth about Music Rehearsals
I am a compulsive blurter. This is a bad habit that I struggle with daily. Or sometimes hourly. But it does come from a good place in me, the part that is also compulsively truthful. So, in this blog, my commitment is to be honest, but as kind as possible. That said, there will be times when my commitment to honesty may ruffle a few feathers. I will preface that possible feather ruffling with an apology and a preemptive request for forgiveness.
Here they are now: I am sorry. Please forgive me.
Such a huge lead in to my latest blog about "Hairspray". But here's the deal. For the most part, the music rehearsals completely sucked. Why, you may ask? I'm just going to list the reasons.
6. One of the cast members brought her toddler to the rehearsals. I'm not really sure how I kept my temper and my sanity with that kid and his neglectful mother (and more about her later...). Mad at the mother, freaked out because that kid ran all over, up and down stairs, on set pieces, OUTSIDE near the very busy road the school is on. The kid was bored, and worse, ignored. Yes, she had an infant to take care of (yes, there were TWO kids at each musical rehearsal. It was absolutely miserable, for the poor kid, but for all of us in the rehearsal.) and her husband worked nights. But let's face it. Maybe you save your community theater experience until a more opportune time, like when you have appropriate child care, perhaps? I will go so far as to say that I'm not sure I could go through this again. More to come about the infant in the dressing room during performances in an upcoming blog.
7. I wasn't always told when I was supposed to be there every time I needed to be at certain times. What songs was I supposed to sing anyway? Prudy isn't in a lot of scenes and because I didn't have my script, and somewhere along the line, I couldn't read for myself what songs I needed to learn. I hate to admit it, but I never really learned some of the songs perfectly. I faked "You Can't Stop the Beat" until closing night.
I am not sure if all music rehearsals are such misery. When (hoping!) I am in more musicals, I will find out. If they are, I will always be dieting and running, because the only way I'll get through those rehearsals will be with copious amounts of Diet Pepsi and Peanut M&Ms.
Keep playing! (Even when you don't think you can one eensy minute more.)
Here they are now: I am sorry. Please forgive me.
Such a huge lead in to my latest blog about "Hairspray". But here's the deal. For the most part, the music rehearsals completely sucked. Why, you may ask? I'm just going to list the reasons.
- Our music director was not at all prepared to teach songs to teenagers. I am pretty sure she wasn't prepared to teach to a big group, period, though I've heard she is kickin' good one-on-one. But the teenagers were bored. I was bored and I'm way past teenager.
- She came to one rehearsal not knowing that particular song. I held myself back from having a huge fit. She said, "I guess I should have learned this song before I came tonight." I'm not making this up. Those were her exact words.
- She doesn't know how to play the piano, so she'd plunk on the keys and hit the wrong keys. Then say, "I'm sorry," or, "Ooops." A lot. We counted every night and marked these on our scores. In a three-hour period, she topped 30 times every single night. I admit, the counting kept us occupied.
- She said several times, "Come on, you know how to read notes." I wanted to stand up (by this time I was really annoyed) and ask, "Hands up if you really can read notes." I bet there was one in ten that really could read notes. For the most part, the kids in the cast were there for fun and had little to no talent.
- She was very particular about us all learning our parts, which is good. But she didn't really identify when she was asking a certain group to sing. I kept hoping she'd say, "Okay, Altos, ready--go!" I missed my cues half the time.
6. One of the cast members brought her toddler to the rehearsals. I'm not really sure how I kept my temper and my sanity with that kid and his neglectful mother (and more about her later...). Mad at the mother, freaked out because that kid ran all over, up and down stairs, on set pieces, OUTSIDE near the very busy road the school is on. The kid was bored, and worse, ignored. Yes, she had an infant to take care of (yes, there were TWO kids at each musical rehearsal. It was absolutely miserable, for the poor kid, but for all of us in the rehearsal.) and her husband worked nights. But let's face it. Maybe you save your community theater experience until a more opportune time, like when you have appropriate child care, perhaps? I will go so far as to say that I'm not sure I could go through this again. More to come about the infant in the dressing room during performances in an upcoming blog.
7. I wasn't always told when I was supposed to be there every time I needed to be at certain times. What songs was I supposed to sing anyway? Prudy isn't in a lot of scenes and because I didn't have my script, and somewhere along the line, I couldn't read for myself what songs I needed to learn. I hate to admit it, but I never really learned some of the songs perfectly. I faked "You Can't Stop the Beat" until closing night.
I am not sure if all music rehearsals are such misery. When (hoping!) I am in more musicals, I will find out. If they are, I will always be dieting and running, because the only way I'll get through those rehearsals will be with copious amounts of Diet Pepsi and Peanut M&Ms.
Keep playing! (Even when you don't think you can one eensy minute more.)
Friday, September 16, 2011
September Meeting of SFCT Board--My First!
When I was in "Hairspray", one of the board members, Juli, asked me to join the Spanish Fork Community Theater board. I was was flattered, but not remarkably surprised. I was also more than a little ambivalent about this.
I sat down and set my pen and reading glasses on the table. Slight chatting and banter amongst the folks at the table. Brock called me by the nickname from my childhood I stupidly told him at a cast party. I am listing it here but must ask my readers to never call me this. I am still cooking up some sort of revenge for Brock. Nickname: Jenny Ding Dong. I can thank my uncle Brownie for that one. Years of therapy later... Lawson called me by his own nickname, Hennifer, which is much cuter. I have no vengeful feelings for Lawson.
We were given an agenda and blah blahed through it. The real reason we were all gathered was to vote for next summer's show. I hadn't known that until that very day of the meeting, so I was darn tootin' going to go! I have a vote? Oh yeah. I'll be there. (This whole thing seemed so easy!)
Earlier, SFCT had sent out a survey about which show the community would like to do. "Sound of Music" won by a landslide. I understand the same people voted over and over and over--people who had parts picked out for themselves in the show. Because "Sound of Music" had just been done at Sundance Outdoor Theater and personally, if I hear the name Von Trapp one more time I may barf, I had voted in the survey 'anything BUT "Sound of Music". I did vote for "Once Upon a Mattress", "Camelot", and wrote in "Pajama Game". I also would have loved to produce "Anything Goes", but that too had been done this summer up north in Sandy.
Adam gave his pitch for the show he wanted: "The Scarlet Pimpernel". I had seen that at a local high school last year and, sorry, was slightly bored. I do realize this was a high school production, but the biggest issue I had with that show was all the non-use of foreign accents. Could hokey, backwoods Spanish Fork find enough men who could sing (a bigger issue here in my opinion than others believe) and who could speak well in either English or French accents? I sincerely doubted it.
During this pitch, Mareen, who is older than I and dissimilar from me in personality (a super nice, politic way of saying this), kept shushing me. I am still wondering what I should have done about this. Should I have glared at her? Told her to stop shushing me, since she isn't my mother? I ended up ignoring it, but vow to not sit next to her again. (Again, being honest here.)
Adam made a good case, and he and Brock voted for "Pimpernel" and soon left. I made a pitch for some kind of princess show, either "Cinderella", "Once Upon a Mattress", or ? This is an excellent marketing and fundraising tool because we can have a princess party for all the little darlings in the area. They will come to the show, their parents and grandparents and siblings and other relatives will come to the show. This will get butts in seats and get some cash in our meager budget coffers. (Slight digression here and a blatant sneer. The Spanish Fork Arts Council plunges lots of money into its youth drama program (which I will not comment on but could). We get nothing. This is not only lame but pretty unfair. More about the Arts Council with regards to "Hairspray" in an upcoming blog.)
The remaining board members voted. We all got two votes a piece. Into the mix "My Fair Lady" was thrown. Ah, now there's an idea. Not only has it not been produced recently, but we could have an English Garden Party for the little darlings, and there is nothing whatsoever that is controversial in this show, unlike "Hairspray", which I will also explain in an upcoming blog. When we voted our two votes, "Pimpernel" went out of the running. It was between princess play and "My Fair Lady". The latter won, and I admit, I was thrilled. And to be fair (pun!) and props to me, I didn't even know at the time that there are several possible roles for someone like me, of a certain 'maturity'.
I knew Adam would be disappointed and worried and felt guilty about that. But I was pretty much elated at the choice. The hats! The costumes! The accents, which I knew how to do, both Cockney and Pro-puh British. Yeah, this will rock. I even gave my first horse Darby a show name of Darby's Gavotte after seeing "My Fair Lady" the first time, but my horse riding friends show that down, saying that nobody knew how to pronounce "Gavotte". The had a point and I changed his name to Country Preacher. But that's another story for another blog.
Since then, there has been almost total support of our choice. A few "Sound of Music" hopefuls are disgruntled. Ah well. I am now in the process of investigating ideas for the Garden Party, which I absolutely will not be calling a Tea Party and not because the residents of Spanish Fork, Utah don't drink tea!
Keep playing!
- First, I love fundraising and felt this was a worthy cause, but shy away from the responsibility of doing this 'for real'.
- Second, my first love is acting onstage, and I didn't want anyone thinking I ever got any part because I was a board member (though I do notice that members of the board do get parts...)
- Third, if I don't get an actual part in the upcoming plays, I will be far less motivated to pitch in. I hate to say this, but I'm being honest in this blog.
I sat down and set my pen and reading glasses on the table. Slight chatting and banter amongst the folks at the table. Brock called me by the nickname from my childhood I stupidly told him at a cast party. I am listing it here but must ask my readers to never call me this. I am still cooking up some sort of revenge for Brock. Nickname: Jenny Ding Dong. I can thank my uncle Brownie for that one. Years of therapy later... Lawson called me by his own nickname, Hennifer, which is much cuter. I have no vengeful feelings for Lawson.
We were given an agenda and blah blahed through it. The real reason we were all gathered was to vote for next summer's show. I hadn't known that until that very day of the meeting, so I was darn tootin' going to go! I have a vote? Oh yeah. I'll be there. (This whole thing seemed so easy!)
Earlier, SFCT had sent out a survey about which show the community would like to do. "Sound of Music" won by a landslide. I understand the same people voted over and over and over--people who had parts picked out for themselves in the show. Because "Sound of Music" had just been done at Sundance Outdoor Theater and personally, if I hear the name Von Trapp one more time I may barf, I had voted in the survey 'anything BUT "Sound of Music". I did vote for "Once Upon a Mattress", "Camelot", and wrote in "Pajama Game". I also would have loved to produce "Anything Goes", but that too had been done this summer up north in Sandy.
Adam gave his pitch for the show he wanted: "The Scarlet Pimpernel". I had seen that at a local high school last year and, sorry, was slightly bored. I do realize this was a high school production, but the biggest issue I had with that show was all the non-use of foreign accents. Could hokey, backwoods Spanish Fork find enough men who could sing (a bigger issue here in my opinion than others believe) and who could speak well in either English or French accents? I sincerely doubted it.
During this pitch, Mareen, who is older than I and dissimilar from me in personality (a super nice, politic way of saying this), kept shushing me. I am still wondering what I should have done about this. Should I have glared at her? Told her to stop shushing me, since she isn't my mother? I ended up ignoring it, but vow to not sit next to her again. (Again, being honest here.)
Adam made a good case, and he and Brock voted for "Pimpernel" and soon left. I made a pitch for some kind of princess show, either "Cinderella", "Once Upon a Mattress", or ? This is an excellent marketing and fundraising tool because we can have a princess party for all the little darlings in the area. They will come to the show, their parents and grandparents and siblings and other relatives will come to the show. This will get butts in seats and get some cash in our meager budget coffers. (Slight digression here and a blatant sneer. The Spanish Fork Arts Council plunges lots of money into its youth drama program (which I will not comment on but could). We get nothing. This is not only lame but pretty unfair. More about the Arts Council with regards to "Hairspray" in an upcoming blog.)
The remaining board members voted. We all got two votes a piece. Into the mix "My Fair Lady" was thrown. Ah, now there's an idea. Not only has it not been produced recently, but we could have an English Garden Party for the little darlings, and there is nothing whatsoever that is controversial in this show, unlike "Hairspray", which I will also explain in an upcoming blog. When we voted our two votes, "Pimpernel" went out of the running. It was between princess play and "My Fair Lady". The latter won, and I admit, I was thrilled. And to be fair (pun!) and props to me, I didn't even know at the time that there are several possible roles for someone like me, of a certain 'maturity'.
I knew Adam would be disappointed and worried and felt guilty about that. But I was pretty much elated at the choice. The hats! The costumes! The accents, which I knew how to do, both Cockney and Pro-puh British. Yeah, this will rock. I even gave my first horse Darby a show name of Darby's Gavotte after seeing "My Fair Lady" the first time, but my horse riding friends show that down, saying that nobody knew how to pronounce "Gavotte". The had a point and I changed his name to Country Preacher. But that's another story for another blog.
Since then, there has been almost total support of our choice. A few "Sound of Music" hopefuls are disgruntled. Ah well. I am now in the process of investigating ideas for the Garden Party, which I absolutely will not be calling a Tea Party and not because the residents of Spanish Fork, Utah don't drink tea!
Keep playing!
Thursday, September 15, 2011
Impossible Mystery--2--First rehearsal--"Highlight Club" scene
I was so worried I'd be late. I didn't leave early enough to make the 15 minute walk to the room we were rehearsing in--The High Chaparral" room at the Spanish Fork Fairgrounds. It's an ugly room, though spacious, and filled with flies. The Fairgrounds has hundreds of stalls where horses and cows live most of the year.
I arrived on time and as soon as I walked in, Cami (director) said, "Everyone is stuck on the freeway and will be late."
Hello? I'm here.
The couple who are in this scene rehearsed their dance. He had a horrible migraine, though he didn't look too bad. His wife told us several times that he felt awful, came home early from work and took a shower, still felt yuck. I felt so guilty and I had nothing to do with his ailment! Their dance was really cute and they just look so cute together. Married people sometimes do that.
With the paltry crew we had, we blocked what we could. I am a club patron of indeterminate age. It takes place in the Highlight Club, which is a speakeasy during Prohibition, but I was told numerous times it is in the 1940s. Prohibition ended in 1933. I looked it up on Wikipedia. Everything else in the scene is 30s, so I'm just keeping the 1940s comment under my hat. Except in this blog, of course.
My entrance is from stage right and I walk in, looking animated but a little spooked, as this is a secret club. This is hard to do when I'm set to walk in with someone, but nobody was there to walk with. I felt stupid, okay? Cami said, "We need more energy." I would have been happy to just have less clunkiness. I just realized--I didn't wear my lucky high-tops! This would have solved everything! Note to self: wear lucky high tops to all rehearsals unless you have to wear your torture dance shoes.
I pound on the imaginary door and Scott, Cami's son, says: pass-woid. Then I mumble something, and he lets me in. I move to a table and pretend to talk to someone who turned out to be my friend Kendra, who also doubled as a gun-toting mobster when she wasn't sitting with me. A dance goes on while Cami's daughter sings a solo. I will drily say that this whole thing is not looking good.
All the freeway-locked people finally arrived. But it wasn't like we were rife with cast members. I sit and sit at the pretend table, and then, later, I'm run out of the club. This time I screamed my head off and ferris wheeled my arms as I ran off the stage. This didn't seem at all in character, but Cami loved it. I got a big smile out of her. Okay, that made me smile.
It could be that I act so I can feel accomplished, but this is one heck of a way to do it. I feel stupid half the time.
The migraine person said I was 'shrill'. I didn't realize for several hours what he really meant. I probably made his migraine tons worse.
Cami said the 'crowd', me and Kendra, could leave, so we walked partway to my house. We stopped off at Anna's, the woman with the World of Wonder Costume Shed and Kendra got several of her costumes. Anna got a few more things for me, but it was a little tricky. It was after dark and the mosquitoes were out and ready to suck. Ick.
Kendra was able to try on and show me her fun costumes. She made a comment about not being able to wear a certain type of clothing that she usually wears (LDS members know what I'm talking about) and Anna said, "Noooooooo, we aren't going to do that." I forgot to warn Kendra that this isn't really anything like community theater. I like both. But I know what's what. Now she does, too.
I kissed Anna goodbye, Kendra's husband picked her up, and I continued my walk home. I sang the "Highlight Club" song to my son when I got home, but I changed the lyrics. You'll have to ask Caden what the new lyrics were.
Keep playing! (Even when you feel stupid.)
I arrived on time and as soon as I walked in, Cami (director) said, "Everyone is stuck on the freeway and will be late."
Hello? I'm here.
The couple who are in this scene rehearsed their dance. He had a horrible migraine, though he didn't look too bad. His wife told us several times that he felt awful, came home early from work and took a shower, still felt yuck. I felt so guilty and I had nothing to do with his ailment! Their dance was really cute and they just look so cute together. Married people sometimes do that.
With the paltry crew we had, we blocked what we could. I am a club patron of indeterminate age. It takes place in the Highlight Club, which is a speakeasy during Prohibition, but I was told numerous times it is in the 1940s. Prohibition ended in 1933. I looked it up on Wikipedia. Everything else in the scene is 30s, so I'm just keeping the 1940s comment under my hat. Except in this blog, of course.
My entrance is from stage right and I walk in, looking animated but a little spooked, as this is a secret club. This is hard to do when I'm set to walk in with someone, but nobody was there to walk with. I felt stupid, okay? Cami said, "We need more energy." I would have been happy to just have less clunkiness. I just realized--I didn't wear my lucky high-tops! This would have solved everything! Note to self: wear lucky high tops to all rehearsals unless you have to wear your torture dance shoes.
I pound on the imaginary door and Scott, Cami's son, says: pass-woid. Then I mumble something, and he lets me in. I move to a table and pretend to talk to someone who turned out to be my friend Kendra, who also doubled as a gun-toting mobster when she wasn't sitting with me. A dance goes on while Cami's daughter sings a solo. I will drily say that this whole thing is not looking good.
All the freeway-locked people finally arrived. But it wasn't like we were rife with cast members. I sit and sit at the pretend table, and then, later, I'm run out of the club. This time I screamed my head off and ferris wheeled my arms as I ran off the stage. This didn't seem at all in character, but Cami loved it. I got a big smile out of her. Okay, that made me smile.
It could be that I act so I can feel accomplished, but this is one heck of a way to do it. I feel stupid half the time.
The migraine person said I was 'shrill'. I didn't realize for several hours what he really meant. I probably made his migraine tons worse.
Cami said the 'crowd', me and Kendra, could leave, so we walked partway to my house. We stopped off at Anna's, the woman with the World of Wonder Costume Shed and Kendra got several of her costumes. Anna got a few more things for me, but it was a little tricky. It was after dark and the mosquitoes were out and ready to suck. Ick.
Kendra was able to try on and show me her fun costumes. She made a comment about not being able to wear a certain type of clothing that she usually wears (LDS members know what I'm talking about) and Anna said, "Noooooooo, we aren't going to do that." I forgot to warn Kendra that this isn't really anything like community theater. I like both. But I know what's what. Now she does, too.
I kissed Anna goodbye, Kendra's husband picked her up, and I continued my walk home. I sang the "Highlight Club" song to my son when I got home, but I changed the lyrics. You'll have to ask Caden what the new lyrics were.
Keep playing! (Even when you feel stupid.)
The Impossible Mystery--1--The Rehearsal that Wasn't ~OR~ Costume Fun!
I thought it was my night for rehearsal. I was sweating a little because I hadn't really even looked at my script. I play two speaking roles and am in one scene as Ensemble.
Roles:
Oba San--old, crotchety, mostly deaf Japanese grandmother
Lady Chattway--English society matron, presumably a widow, middle-aged, flighty and giggly
Ensemble in the Highlight Club scene--a speakeasy-type joint. I am a--what? Still figuring that one out.
So I walk into the backyard we rehearse in on Tuesday nights, smile on face, script on clipboard in hand.
Cami (director): What are you doing here, Jennifer?
Me (chump): I thought we were doing the Japanese scene.
Other actress in show: That's next week.
Anna (mentor, costumer, Cami's mother and owner of backyard): It's okay. We'll get you costumed.
Me (relieved): Well then, I'm here spreading love! (a little arm sweeping and curtsy)
Anna (kindly, as is her wont): We can always use more love!
I was then ushered to Anna's World of Wonder costume shed. Oh my goodness! Rack upon rack of clothes, necklaces on hooks, hats and bags on shelves, bins of glasses. I'm not even much of a girly girl, but hey, this was heaven.
Anna started holding dresses up in front of me: Oh, this will be darling for the Highlight Club scene. Isn't this cute?
I climb into peach dress and cape. It is adorable. She hands me a brightly flowered little bag and puts a little hat on my head--straw with ribbon and flowers, and we traipse out to Cami, who smiles, nods (meaning yes, that costume will work) and goes back to directing. I sweep back to the shed. One must always sweepingly walk when one wears a floor-length cape.
Anna: We have decided to go all out with the costumes--color and fun.
Me (thinking): No kidding! I am adorable! (cartwheeling in my head)
The next few outfits were either too small or not right. Anna told me not to get discouraged. I was far from that. I was playing dress up. This outfit doesn't work? Well, I'll try another. There are hundreds to choose from.
I went home to get a very cute, authentic velvet jacket that belonged to my mother. It will be Lady Chattaway's jacket. Anna found me a perfect blouse, checking to make sure it was just the right shade of beige, and we found a skirt that was okay. (Later, I found a better skirt in my own closet. Anna told me as long as it had flowers on it, it'd be great. The skirt is flowered, black, red, and yes, the right shade of beige, with a flouncy hem. As Anna would say: Darling!)
To go with the skirt, jacket, and blouse, Anna dug around and found me The Cutest Hat in the World. I can't describe it (it's black and cloth, but that says little about the cuteness factor) but pictures will come during the run of the show. I have some earrings that will go with the whole outfit. I am going to be the most delightful English Society Matron ever!
Then, Oba San's outfit. I had pictured some frumpy black or gray bathrobe. No! I have a multi-colored poncho to the floor that will look amazing with one of those Japanese black cumberbun belt thingies (still to be procured.) I will wear a Chinese pointy-on-the-top straw hat (still being found and yeah, it isn't authentic--what-ev-uh). I have decided to wear a purple, red, or green (if I can find it) scarf over my hair under the hat so my blonde hair won't give me away as me. (Old deaf grandmas aren't platinum blondes.) Anna found me some silky black pants to go under the silky dress thingie. It is really, really colorful. Rock on, Oba San!
I am 90% set. I am 100% excited.
Playing dress up with Anna is the most fun I've had in a long time!
Keep playing! And if possible, do it in style!
Roles:
Oba San--old, crotchety, mostly deaf Japanese grandmother
Lady Chattway--English society matron, presumably a widow, middle-aged, flighty and giggly
Ensemble in the Highlight Club scene--a speakeasy-type joint. I am a--what? Still figuring that one out.
So I walk into the backyard we rehearse in on Tuesday nights, smile on face, script on clipboard in hand.
Cami (director): What are you doing here, Jennifer?
Me (chump): I thought we were doing the Japanese scene.
Other actress in show: That's next week.
Anna (mentor, costumer, Cami's mother and owner of backyard): It's okay. We'll get you costumed.
Me (relieved): Well then, I'm here spreading love! (a little arm sweeping and curtsy)
Anna (kindly, as is her wont): We can always use more love!
I was then ushered to Anna's World of Wonder costume shed. Oh my goodness! Rack upon rack of clothes, necklaces on hooks, hats and bags on shelves, bins of glasses. I'm not even much of a girly girl, but hey, this was heaven.
Anna started holding dresses up in front of me: Oh, this will be darling for the Highlight Club scene. Isn't this cute?
I climb into peach dress and cape. It is adorable. She hands me a brightly flowered little bag and puts a little hat on my head--straw with ribbon and flowers, and we traipse out to Cami, who smiles, nods (meaning yes, that costume will work) and goes back to directing. I sweep back to the shed. One must always sweepingly walk when one wears a floor-length cape.
Anna: We have decided to go all out with the costumes--color and fun.
Me (thinking): No kidding! I am adorable! (cartwheeling in my head)
The next few outfits were either too small or not right. Anna told me not to get discouraged. I was far from that. I was playing dress up. This outfit doesn't work? Well, I'll try another. There are hundreds to choose from.
I went home to get a very cute, authentic velvet jacket that belonged to my mother. It will be Lady Chattaway's jacket. Anna found me a perfect blouse, checking to make sure it was just the right shade of beige, and we found a skirt that was okay. (Later, I found a better skirt in my own closet. Anna told me as long as it had flowers on it, it'd be great. The skirt is flowered, black, red, and yes, the right shade of beige, with a flouncy hem. As Anna would say: Darling!)
To go with the skirt, jacket, and blouse, Anna dug around and found me The Cutest Hat in the World. I can't describe it (it's black and cloth, but that says little about the cuteness factor) but pictures will come during the run of the show. I have some earrings that will go with the whole outfit. I am going to be the most delightful English Society Matron ever!
Then, Oba San's outfit. I had pictured some frumpy black or gray bathrobe. No! I have a multi-colored poncho to the floor that will look amazing with one of those Japanese black cumberbun belt thingies (still to be procured.) I will wear a Chinese pointy-on-the-top straw hat (still being found and yeah, it isn't authentic--what-ev-uh). I have decided to wear a purple, red, or green (if I can find it) scarf over my hair under the hat so my blonde hair won't give me away as me. (Old deaf grandmas aren't platinum blondes.) Anna found me some silky black pants to go under the silky dress thingie. It is really, really colorful. Rock on, Oba San!
I am 90% set. I am 100% excited.
Playing dress up with Anna is the most fun I've had in a long time!
Keep playing! And if possible, do it in style!
Hairspray reminiscences--4--Our Mandatory Meeting
We had our first rehearsals in the cafeteria/auditorium at Diamond Fork Junior High (DFJHS). A more sterile, less exciting room I have never seen. There was something about the tile floor and the long cafeteria tables that shouted: this isn't a musical rehearsal! This is where maniacs, also known as junior high school students, eat! I kept getting the urge to don some plastic gloves and wipe down the table's surfaces.
We gathered together and I, as a minor lead, was asked to come sit on the long, wide stairs that lead up to the stage. Yes, I was wearing my lucky high tops. They provided a little comfort to me. Was I ready for this?
I admit, I loved being asked to sit up there. Gathering with all the 'in-crowd' was highly satisfying. Caitlyn, a friend of mine from my years as a teacher in Spanish Fork Youtheater, snuggled up to me and told me she loved me several times. She was playing Prudy's, I mean my daughter Penny. I admit, Caitlyn touched me a lot and it kind of freaked me out. But I figured it was better than her barking out a scornful laugh and telling me she was horrified that I'd play her mother. So I was slightly mauled with hugs. Ah well. Note to self: shower and brush your teeth before rehearsal.
The director and the assistant directors spoke to us, though I don't remember the order or what they said. We were given a sheet of rules, and I think we were asked to sign something. Again, whatever that something was, I don't remember. We were introduced to the other production staff members, some whom I knew, some I didn't. Everyone looked like upbeat, happy, excited folk, so I was upbeat, happy, and excited myself. I was a lead! (I will mention this often. It was a huge deal for me. Huge.)
There seemed to be an enormous amount of teenagers in that auditorium. Some had parents with them. Some of the kids I knew, many I didn't. And those I knew were very huggy. I began to realize during the rehearsal schedule something I'd forgotten. Being in a play means you need to follow the unwritten rule: you must hug and be hugged.
Again, I was just really amazed at the mass of teenagers, more girls than boys, of course. I didn't realize at the time that our numbers would dwindle dramatically. (Pun!) The rehearsal schedule was grueling and some people just couldn't do it. I also noticed that many of the women who'd read and sung for the part of Velma didn't come to be in the Ensemble. I thought that was kind of lame. Would I have done that had I not been cast as Prudy? I didn't think so at the time. Now--I'm not so sure. It is a lot of work and if I didn't have a line at all... Well, I can't say. I guess it would depend on other factors, such as: who else of my new-found "Hairspray" friends was in the cast, was my son in the cast, what the show was. I don't think I'd settle for being a nun in "Sound of Music" for instance. But that might change. I can't say for sure.
The feeling in the room: intense, excited, hopeful. We all sort of looked a little glassy-eyed, at least that's how it appeared to me. I hadn't been in a show in so long, I didn't recognize the reality that these people, those who stayed, would become family. Were more seasoned performers sizing me up to see if I would make a good friend/mother/actress? I did no sizing up of my own. I just sat there in my high-tops, greeting friends, smiling a lot, and nursing some inner freaking outishness.
We were given some instructions about the importance of being on time, signing in when we get to the rehearsal, and then we dispersed. I admit, I was a little wary. This was becoming more and more real. I was already beginning to panic about learning my lines, though there were relatively few. My memorization skills stink, always have.
But the feeling wouldn't leave: I'm back. I'm really back. And yes, I'll say it again--I was a lead!
Keep playing! (I am, so you can, too.)
We gathered together and I, as a minor lead, was asked to come sit on the long, wide stairs that lead up to the stage. Yes, I was wearing my lucky high tops. They provided a little comfort to me. Was I ready for this?
I admit, I loved being asked to sit up there. Gathering with all the 'in-crowd' was highly satisfying. Caitlyn, a friend of mine from my years as a teacher in Spanish Fork Youtheater, snuggled up to me and told me she loved me several times. She was playing Prudy's, I mean my daughter Penny. I admit, Caitlyn touched me a lot and it kind of freaked me out. But I figured it was better than her barking out a scornful laugh and telling me she was horrified that I'd play her mother. So I was slightly mauled with hugs. Ah well. Note to self: shower and brush your teeth before rehearsal.
The director and the assistant directors spoke to us, though I don't remember the order or what they said. We were given a sheet of rules, and I think we were asked to sign something. Again, whatever that something was, I don't remember. We were introduced to the other production staff members, some whom I knew, some I didn't. Everyone looked like upbeat, happy, excited folk, so I was upbeat, happy, and excited myself. I was a lead! (I will mention this often. It was a huge deal for me. Huge.)
There seemed to be an enormous amount of teenagers in that auditorium. Some had parents with them. Some of the kids I knew, many I didn't. And those I knew were very huggy. I began to realize during the rehearsal schedule something I'd forgotten. Being in a play means you need to follow the unwritten rule: you must hug and be hugged.
Again, I was just really amazed at the mass of teenagers, more girls than boys, of course. I didn't realize at the time that our numbers would dwindle dramatically. (Pun!) The rehearsal schedule was grueling and some people just couldn't do it. I also noticed that many of the women who'd read and sung for the part of Velma didn't come to be in the Ensemble. I thought that was kind of lame. Would I have done that had I not been cast as Prudy? I didn't think so at the time. Now--I'm not so sure. It is a lot of work and if I didn't have a line at all... Well, I can't say. I guess it would depend on other factors, such as: who else of my new-found "Hairspray" friends was in the cast, was my son in the cast, what the show was. I don't think I'd settle for being a nun in "Sound of Music" for instance. But that might change. I can't say for sure.
The feeling in the room: intense, excited, hopeful. We all sort of looked a little glassy-eyed, at least that's how it appeared to me. I hadn't been in a show in so long, I didn't recognize the reality that these people, those who stayed, would become family. Were more seasoned performers sizing me up to see if I would make a good friend/mother/actress? I did no sizing up of my own. I just sat there in my high-tops, greeting friends, smiling a lot, and nursing some inner freaking outishness.
We were given some instructions about the importance of being on time, signing in when we get to the rehearsal, and then we dispersed. I admit, I was a little wary. This was becoming more and more real. I was already beginning to panic about learning my lines, though there were relatively few. My memorization skills stink, always have.
But the feeling wouldn't leave: I'm back. I'm really back. And yes, I'll say it again--I was a lead!
Keep playing! (I am, so you can, too.)
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
Hairspray reminiscences--3--I got it!
I can't remember specifically how long it was between when I went to the call back audition and when I got a call from Josh, the other assistant director. I do know it was longer than I had expected and I figured I didn't get the part. I was already talking myself into being a cool good sport ensemble member. I didn't like it, but I was going to be okay. Team player, that's me!
My phone rang--it was afternoon, after school, an unfamiliar number came up on my phone. Josh said something about being the assistant director, Hairspray, we'd like to offer you the part of Prudy Pingleton. I think he also said something about the director being there on a conference call or something? It's a bit fuzzy. I remember the jist of the info, but as soon as I knew what the call was about, I wanted to get off the phone immediately. First, I wanted to scream to my family about this. And I was so freaked, I literally needed to jump around. It's like I'd been shot with rocket fuel and I needed to take off--pronto!
I hope I said something was gracious like, yes, I'd love to. But I just as easily could have said, "Hell yes. You kiddin' me?" I really don't remember. I did accept the part, I do know that. If Josh gave me any other info, I don't recall any of it. The rocket fuel was zipping through my body and my brain had completely turned off except for my ability to speak my native English language. At least I hope I did. I'll need to ask Josh sometime.
I do remember once I hung up the phone, I jumped up and down about ten times, screaming, "I got the part of Prudy! I got the part of Prudy!" I can still feel the exhilaration that infused me. It was like I was me one minute, and then next second I was me AND Prudy. It was that quick that I began to share myself with this unknown person.
I sent texts to everyone I could think of, got on Facebook and blasted the news. I was over the moon, out of my head, so totally excited I didn't know what to do.
We were all required to go to a mandatory meeting soon. For all cast members. And I was a lead. I held that information, that truth, so close inside me. It felt like such a precious gift, priceless, coveted, seemingly impossible. I was pretty much speechless, breathless, and totally amazed.
That's when my Hairspray journey really began.
Keep playing!
My phone rang--it was afternoon, after school, an unfamiliar number came up on my phone. Josh said something about being the assistant director, Hairspray, we'd like to offer you the part of Prudy Pingleton. I think he also said something about the director being there on a conference call or something? It's a bit fuzzy. I remember the jist of the info, but as soon as I knew what the call was about, I wanted to get off the phone immediately. First, I wanted to scream to my family about this. And I was so freaked, I literally needed to jump around. It's like I'd been shot with rocket fuel and I needed to take off--pronto!
I hope I said something was gracious like, yes, I'd love to. But I just as easily could have said, "Hell yes. You kiddin' me?" I really don't remember. I did accept the part, I do know that. If Josh gave me any other info, I don't recall any of it. The rocket fuel was zipping through my body and my brain had completely turned off except for my ability to speak my native English language. At least I hope I did. I'll need to ask Josh sometime.
I do remember once I hung up the phone, I jumped up and down about ten times, screaming, "I got the part of Prudy! I got the part of Prudy!" I can still feel the exhilaration that infused me. It was like I was me one minute, and then next second I was me AND Prudy. It was that quick that I began to share myself with this unknown person.
I sent texts to everyone I could think of, got on Facebook and blasted the news. I was over the moon, out of my head, so totally excited I didn't know what to do.
We were all required to go to a mandatory meeting soon. For all cast members. And I was a lead. I held that information, that truth, so close inside me. It felt like such a precious gift, priceless, coveted, seemingly impossible. I was pretty much speechless, breathless, and totally amazed.
That's when my Hairspray journey really began.
Keep playing!
Monday, September 12, 2011
Hairspray reminiscences--2--call backs
The director, Adam Cannon, in instructing us about call backs, specifically suggested that it would be a good idea to dress the part. Since I'd been called back for Prudy Pingleton (who?) I watched the movie again and observed the character.
Prudy was played by Allison Janney, who is probably on my top 20 people I wish I could meet. I loved her in "West Wing" and "Finding Nemo" and think she's tops. Okay, so she was dressed like a school marm slash spinster. What did I have to wear to look like that?
Enter closet, sift through clothes. Okay, I've got that skirt and this sweater. Nylons? Who wears nylons anymore? Dance shoes will work. But they're not really dance shoes but they look like them and were much cheaper and have a good vibe. Maybe as good as my lucky hightops. I wore them when I went to the White House and saw Paul McCartney and Dave Grohl and a bunch of others in concert and there were the Obamas right over there. Yeah, dance shoes are lucky, too. Called friend who may have nylons to give me. She gives me three pairs, still in the package. (If not still packaged, ew. I'll go buy some. Didn't have to.)
From the movie I gleaned that Prudy is quite the Bible reader, so when I went to the audition, hair as frumpy as I could make it, I carried a Bible. I went into the room with all the women who were called back for the part. There were only three of us! One, a rather older woman, whom I'd spoken to in the hall. She had kept talking about Kat, who I figured out was her daughter. But I was like, who's Kat and what makes her so special? The other woman was a tall, jocular woman. It became apparent to me that these two women knew the Adam and the assistant director (Andrea Johnson) so I thought, Okay, I have no chance.
Coincidentally, the other woman who was called back was the mother of the girl who really liked my son. That was awkward. She was sick and didn't come. Is it bad that her stomach ache just made me feel better? Less competition, is well, less competition!
I had gotten some lines to read online previously, (the lines are called sides, which I didn't know before. Embarrassment #2 if you're keeping up.) I couldn't memorize them well enough--a weakness of mine--memorizing, so I held a copy of the lines. Which made me feel especially bad when the older woman, Joan, had the lines completely memorized. I'm sunk, I thought.
It came time for me to read. I set my Bible on the table where Adam and Andrea sat, said, "Please hold this for me," gave the book a little pat, then read and acted my lines. I started feeling a Prudy vibe. Then they brought in the girls who'd play Prudy's daughter Penny. Well, hey, there is Caitlyn, whom I know! The Prudy-as-mom vibe started then. There was some dialogue that had Prudy hugging Penny, but Seaweed, Penny's black boyfriend, was in the scene, too. I waved my hands up and down, looked at the directing staff and said, "This is Seaweed." I felt him there. It was very cool.
The hugging the Pennys was really interesting. I could feel something. I honestly thought when I was hugging a certain young woman, who turned out to be Leisel Cope, that she would be Penny. Hoping to be Prudy, I thought, oh great. Now I'm going to have to dye my hair red, and I can't really dye my blonde hair darker. Leisel is a dark redhead.
Then I did the scene where I tie up the girls. There was no rope so I looked around the room (the drama room at Diamond Fork Junior High) and found a cord. I used that. But I felt inspired to tie an imaginary bow on the top of Penny's head during the line, "And this is for crying wee, wee, wee all the way home." Director Adam laughed at that and said he may even use that in the play. A-ha! Did I do something that made me stand out? As Joan did her audition, she, too, tied a bow on the top of the girls' heads. As they say, imitation is the finest form of flattery, right?
During the audition, Andrea said she felt that Prudy may have been involved with a black man at one point and he'd done her wrong--that was why she was so anti-black. I almost had a physical reaction, a negative one, to this suggestion. Was Prudy already creating herself in me?
Adam said we could read for other parts. I read for Velma, too, and felt some connection, but thought that I was not an aging beauty queen, though I wanted to be. This may be Jennifer the person talking, not Jennifer the actress. My days as the ingenue are sadly over. Times infinity. However, as I walked by Adam as we were herded into the music room, I whispered, "Velma, Velma, Velma." I figured it couldn't hurt.
Singing next, and since Prudy has no solos, we Prudys all just sang one of the ensemble numbers. But we were asked to sing along with the Pennys. I decided to go for it, and held hands with the girls, bounced around. I admit, I was having a blast. I didn't know the song at all, and one of the SFCT (Spanish Fork Community Theater) board members, Juli, knew all the songs and knew the show inside and out, and again I thought, there is no chance for me. <sigh> But I jumped in anyway and figured, what the heck. This was fun!
I left the audition, walking home in my lucky White House dance shoes. Though my house is only a few blocks from the Junior High, my feet were killing me by the time I arrived home. This was a foreshadowing for what my feet would feel like nightly all during the months of June and July.
Then, I waited. The cast list was supposed to be posted. Again, I checked the website. But nothing was posted. I figured no news was bad news. This, too, the dips in my confidence, was a precursor for the months to come.
Next time, the CALL. But for now, keep playing!
Prudy was played by Allison Janney, who is probably on my top 20 people I wish I could meet. I loved her in "West Wing" and "Finding Nemo" and think she's tops. Okay, so she was dressed like a school marm slash spinster. What did I have to wear to look like that?
Enter closet, sift through clothes. Okay, I've got that skirt and this sweater. Nylons? Who wears nylons anymore? Dance shoes will work. But they're not really dance shoes but they look like them and were much cheaper and have a good vibe. Maybe as good as my lucky hightops. I wore them when I went to the White House and saw Paul McCartney and Dave Grohl and a bunch of others in concert and there were the Obamas right over there. Yeah, dance shoes are lucky, too. Called friend who may have nylons to give me. She gives me three pairs, still in the package. (If not still packaged, ew. I'll go buy some. Didn't have to.)
From the movie I gleaned that Prudy is quite the Bible reader, so when I went to the audition, hair as frumpy as I could make it, I carried a Bible. I went into the room with all the women who were called back for the part. There were only three of us! One, a rather older woman, whom I'd spoken to in the hall. She had kept talking about Kat, who I figured out was her daughter. But I was like, who's Kat and what makes her so special? The other woman was a tall, jocular woman. It became apparent to me that these two women knew the Adam and the assistant director (Andrea Johnson) so I thought, Okay, I have no chance.
Coincidentally, the other woman who was called back was the mother of the girl who really liked my son. That was awkward. She was sick and didn't come. Is it bad that her stomach ache just made me feel better? Less competition, is well, less competition!
I had gotten some lines to read online previously, (the lines are called sides, which I didn't know before. Embarrassment #2 if you're keeping up.) I couldn't memorize them well enough--a weakness of mine--memorizing, so I held a copy of the lines. Which made me feel especially bad when the older woman, Joan, had the lines completely memorized. I'm sunk, I thought.
It came time for me to read. I set my Bible on the table where Adam and Andrea sat, said, "Please hold this for me," gave the book a little pat, then read and acted my lines. I started feeling a Prudy vibe. Then they brought in the girls who'd play Prudy's daughter Penny. Well, hey, there is Caitlyn, whom I know! The Prudy-as-mom vibe started then. There was some dialogue that had Prudy hugging Penny, but Seaweed, Penny's black boyfriend, was in the scene, too. I waved my hands up and down, looked at the directing staff and said, "This is Seaweed." I felt him there. It was very cool.
The hugging the Pennys was really interesting. I could feel something. I honestly thought when I was hugging a certain young woman, who turned out to be Leisel Cope, that she would be Penny. Hoping to be Prudy, I thought, oh great. Now I'm going to have to dye my hair red, and I can't really dye my blonde hair darker. Leisel is a dark redhead.
Then I did the scene where I tie up the girls. There was no rope so I looked around the room (the drama room at Diamond Fork Junior High) and found a cord. I used that. But I felt inspired to tie an imaginary bow on the top of Penny's head during the line, "And this is for crying wee, wee, wee all the way home." Director Adam laughed at that and said he may even use that in the play. A-ha! Did I do something that made me stand out? As Joan did her audition, she, too, tied a bow on the top of the girls' heads. As they say, imitation is the finest form of flattery, right?
During the audition, Andrea said she felt that Prudy may have been involved with a black man at one point and he'd done her wrong--that was why she was so anti-black. I almost had a physical reaction, a negative one, to this suggestion. Was Prudy already creating herself in me?
Adam said we could read for other parts. I read for Velma, too, and felt some connection, but thought that I was not an aging beauty queen, though I wanted to be. This may be Jennifer the person talking, not Jennifer the actress. My days as the ingenue are sadly over. Times infinity. However, as I walked by Adam as we were herded into the music room, I whispered, "Velma, Velma, Velma." I figured it couldn't hurt.
Singing next, and since Prudy has no solos, we Prudys all just sang one of the ensemble numbers. But we were asked to sing along with the Pennys. I decided to go for it, and held hands with the girls, bounced around. I admit, I was having a blast. I didn't know the song at all, and one of the SFCT (Spanish Fork Community Theater) board members, Juli, knew all the songs and knew the show inside and out, and again I thought, there is no chance for me. <sigh> But I jumped in anyway and figured, what the heck. This was fun!
I left the audition, walking home in my lucky White House dance shoes. Though my house is only a few blocks from the Junior High, my feet were killing me by the time I arrived home. This was a foreshadowing for what my feet would feel like nightly all during the months of June and July.
Then, I waited. The cast list was supposed to be posted. Again, I checked the website. But nothing was posted. I figured no news was bad news. This, too, the dips in my confidence, was a precursor for the months to come.
Next time, the CALL. But for now, keep playing!
Saturday, September 10, 2011
Hairspray reminiscences--1--first audition
I'd seen the movie "Hairspray" once. I liked it, but it hadn't made any real impression on me. I mean, I didn't run out and buy it when it came up for sale or anything like that. I loved the performances--Pfieffer and Travolta were amazing. But like I said, it wasn't keeping me up nights or anything.
But my son Caden, right after his stint as Tevye in his junior high's production of "Fiddler on the Roof" said he wanted to audition for Hairspray. Since my husband had told me years before that he'd like to see me do a show as he'd never seen my perform before, I thought, well, maybe I'll audition for Hairspray, too.
Here's what I knew as I walked into the audition:
So, we sang and then I was asked to just sing up the scales. I can't remember how high I got, but it was much higher than I had anticipated, and I was so thrilled I squealed, "Oh my gosh, I'm awesome!" Apparently, the acting spirit of tooting your own horn lays dormant, but never really dies.
Then we danced. Oh. My. Gosh. It was a total blast! We did the monkey, and the twist, and the pony and some other high-energy moves. Shod in my lucky high-tops, I was able to whip around in pretty good 60s style. It was awesome.
After that, I went home all revved up. Before I'd auditioned it was kind of like, I'm doing this for a lark. After that audition I was firmly entrenched in the I-MUST-GET-A-PART-IN-THIS-SHOW mentality. Because it was community theater, I'd be in the show, no prob. But I wanted to BE someone.
I waited and checked the website to see if I got callbacks. I checked and checked and checked, a little OCD-ishly. When I saw my name on the list, I started feeling it, deep down. I'm back, I thought. I'm back.
More later, but for now, keep playing!
But my son Caden, right after his stint as Tevye in his junior high's production of "Fiddler on the Roof" said he wanted to audition for Hairspray. Since my husband had told me years before that he'd like to see me do a show as he'd never seen my perform before, I thought, well, maybe I'll audition for Hairspray, too.
Here's what I knew as I walked into the audition:
- I did know to wear something I could dance in.
- I did know to prepare 16 bars of music to sing that was from a Broadway musical. I did wear my lucky high-tops to the audition.
- I did know some of the people on the Spanish Fork Community Theater board.
- I did know to bring a talent resume because my son had been assigned to do that in his junior high drama class. (Thank you, Mrs. Poulsen.)
- I didn't even know there was such a thing as a talent resume before my son prepared his. (sigh)
- I hadn't really addressed that the songs we'd learn were from the 60s. This wasn't a big issue as my older cousin had danced those dances in the 60s and had taught them to me. But I wasn't like, totally into it until I showed up.
- I didn't know what part I'd even be able to do. I didn't really know the cast list, if you want to know the truth.
So, we sang and then I was asked to just sing up the scales. I can't remember how high I got, but it was much higher than I had anticipated, and I was so thrilled I squealed, "Oh my gosh, I'm awesome!" Apparently, the acting spirit of tooting your own horn lays dormant, but never really dies.
Then we danced. Oh. My. Gosh. It was a total blast! We did the monkey, and the twist, and the pony and some other high-energy moves. Shod in my lucky high-tops, I was able to whip around in pretty good 60s style. It was awesome.
After that, I went home all revved up. Before I'd auditioned it was kind of like, I'm doing this for a lark. After that audition I was firmly entrenched in the I-MUST-GET-A-PART-IN-THIS-SHOW mentality. Because it was community theater, I'd be in the show, no prob. But I wanted to BE someone.
I waited and checked the website to see if I got callbacks. I checked and checked and checked, a little OCD-ishly. When I saw my name on the list, I started feeling it, deep down. I'm back, I thought. I'm back.
More later, but for now, keep playing!
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