In One Year

Last year, on a whim, I decided to audition for "Hairspray." A lark. It was community theater, so I knew I'd be in the show.
But thanks be to Adam Cannon, who gave someone totally unknown to him a chance, I got a part.
Since then, I have been in shows almost constantly.
Today, a well-known playwright, Mahonri Stewart, recommended me to the director who's doing his current show to give me a part.
I am pretty darn flabbergasted.
For so many years, I have felt too old, too fat, too worn out to do theater. It turns out, I was just waiting for the right time.
Tonight's rehearsal went great. The cast members seem neat. I've already found at least one Democrat in the group. I'm going to be kissing a man who isn't my husband. Something I haven't done since I said "I do" to Craig over 17 years ago.
I will be doing theater nonstop pretty much until the end of July. And then? Who knows?
Feeling blessed.
And props to my dude of over 17 years who never even questioned if he'd be cool with this latest venture. He told me that of course I should do the show.
Gosh.
Keep Playing! You know I will!

Backstage--Hell Week and Opening Weekend

My new show is going well. To be able to type this is such a joy. Last week at this time, I had little hope. Our dress rehearsal was horrible. I wanted to not even open the show as planned.
Then, a bunch of people showed up for opening night! We were clunky and my husband--love you, Craig--was still not memorized. More on this later. But we got through the performance. Lots of laughs, energy--an excellent beginning.
The next night was misery, literally. One of our actors hurt his eye at work the night before and was blinking, crying, squinting, and grimacing the entire performance. In front of a grand audience of eight people. Oy. We all suffered.
However, Monday's performance, attended by a busload of attentive, ready for fun seniors, was a blast! I am looking forward to tomorrow's show.
So far, here's what I have loved about this show:

• An excellent director. Not only is he great in the part of director in the show (the play is about a play within a play) but he is a giving, encouraging, willing to let us try stuff director. 
• NO PRIMA DONNAS.
• Making new friends. 
• I love my character Connie. She is the assistant director who is bubbly, on top of things, everyone's friend. She knows she is competent. Until she is thrown onstage at the last minute. Then, Connie is a mess. I love the contrast.
• One of the seniors the other night said to me, "You are so good. You are a natural." Gosh! How cool is that?
• I love being a lead--an honest to goodness lead.

The tougher aspects of this show:

• Craig isn't memorized. He procrastinated and it was horrible knowing he would choke.
• He has the best lines, and to see HIM not be able to get those laughs, and let the other cast members down has sucked.
• I missed being Caden's mom during Hell Week. 
• My dogs missed me spending time with them. It isn't just the play. The crappy weather and my total devotion to Just Dance 3 are also reasons why I don't go running with my dogs lately.
• I wish the theater was in better shape. 

Far more positive than negative and some of those negatives are past or will be soon. All in all, a great experience so far!

KEEP PLAYING!

Hairspray Reminiscences--6--Divas

In Hairspray, I was able to 'experience' several different types of divas. They fell into three categories:
1. The "I have so much knowledge, I must try to direct every scene" type. These people quote the books they've read, classes they gone to, and of course, the many varied parts they've played in the 300,000 shows they've been in. They are passive-aggressively pushy, and most of their comments are along the lines of, "Of course you want my advice. I'm just so knowledgeable. And I'm only trying to make this the best production, so what's wrong with that?"
Several people of this ilk told me how to play Prudy. Not only did this irk me, it made me lose my confidence, something I didn't have a whole lot of when I was first cast. It also made me feel sort of fuzzy, like maybe I shouldn't have really gotten the part.
2. There was the total freak out diva. Just one in this show, but one was more than enough. He got in front of the cast several times and freaked out. I don't know how to say it any other way. He was not only completely negative, he scared me, gesticulating as he frantically screamed, repeating "This isn't me" over and over again. Scared the hell out of me, to be honest. One time, he completely lost it and said that we weren't ready to put on the show yet. All of us cast members sort of looked at each other like, now what? Then we realized, who is this guy and why are we listening to someone who is going berzerk? This guy yelled at us about being yelled at by the director. Though he said he was a 'professional', when the director asked a group of the teen council men to sing one song as a back up a capella number, this guy said he "didn't feel comfortable" doing it. (My son, years younger than Mr. Diva was THRILLED to try the a capella. Which makes me think--define professional, will you please, Mr. Diva?) If I never am cast in another show with this person, I will be one happy actress.
3. The Spotlight on Me person. We had one of those in the cast, too. No matter what scene she was in, she hogged it. She went against the director's rule about not cutting her hair and cut it. She refused to wear her costume as she was required. When asked why she did that, she flippantly replied, "I didn't feel like it. I was bored." She demanded that her part be expanded in the show. The director acquiesced and then she reamed him out because he didn't give her enough of a starring role. (As an aside, the director had a mini breakdown and a large part of it was the Miss Diva.) She is a lovely, talented woman with a great look, voice, and dancing prowess. And she was such a pain in the neck. She also brought her toddler to many of the rehearsals and I spent many a moment during those already tedious rehearsals worrying to death that this kid, who clearly has never been told how to behave, would get hurt or even killed. This woman also left her infant baby in the dressing room during performances. This room was often only populated by this darling baby. Thank God there were no baby snatchers. I mean this.
The thing is, theater is one area that there are always more actors than there are parts. There is almost always another person, and maybe 100 people, who could replace you in one second. Why would anyone choose to act like a pushy, bossy, loud-mouthed, insane know it all, I'm-so-much-better-than-you loser when they could be replaced with someone who could do as good a job or better and be easy and fun to work with?
Especially in community theater?
Fie on all divas. You almost ruin things for those of us who have fun, teamwork, personal and professional growth, and social contacts as our goals.
And just from me. You are NOT all that!
Keep playing!

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.

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!

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!

First Readthrough of The Impossible Mystery

Years ago, I was given the remarkable opportunity to work with the Grande Dame of Spanish  Fork Children's Theater--Anna Murdock. I volunteered as a parent helper while Spanish Fork Youth Theater put on "Narnia". For several seasons, I was able to actually work for Anna, for pay, as one of her drama teachers. My son was in each of her shows, and during one summer show, even my husband was hired to teach 80 kids how to act.

Anna retired, so my gig as a teacher was over. But we've remained friends, and she has watched over my son's progress in shows as if she were his own grandma. She gave him his first part (a Dwarf in Narnia) and has encouraged Caden's persistence and talent in drama. I owe a lot to Anna.

Her daughter Cami wrote a fun murder mystery a few years ago and I directed one scene of it--the Mansion scene, set in England, in which a bunch of silly society ladies twitter and gossip and giggle (and then the murder is eventually solved. There's more to it than this, of course.) I directed the Mansion scene with teenagers as the gossips. And now I am one! I'm Lady Chattaway.

We had our first read through tonight in Anna's wonderland backyard. Some of the cast I know, some I don't. I admit, some of the people in the show are folks I, ahem, have had issues with. This should be really interesting.

Which brings me to the topic that keeps swirling around in my blogs--the politics of theater. There is apparently no smaller world than the arena of local community theater. Because Anna has been doing this for 40+ years, she knows everyone. And because she is the nicest, kindest, most guileless person in the world, she sees everyone for how she wants to see them. She sees me this way, too. As a perfect person.

I admit--I'm freaked out. Okay, I am. I'm humbled that Anna thinks so well of me. But I admit it freely, I have burned bridge, at least really torched them badly. Those bridges are now appearing in this show with the ushering in of certain cast members who I've--um--been unhappy with and said so. Or, in the case of one woman, I reviewed the show she was in and I was honest about it. (And that is the subject of a whole other blog sometime soon). I will need to somehow pull these bridges from the ashes and reconstruct them.

Lesson for the day--be as nice as you can to everyone in your small theater world, even those people who you think aren't good teachers in a youth drama program. Someday you may be in a show with them.

Here's me, signing off. But to all of you, keep playing!