Heading North

It's been a fun few days with Reba-Lynn (our delightful van's new name) and the company of Duck for President.  After our day of three shows (see below), we had a weekend off and then began our trek northward.  A fun performance in Westchester County, followed by a double-header at a school on the Upper East Side (and let's not start on the joys of parking an oversized Sprinter van at a one-hour meter in New York City while performing a one-hour-plus show a block away!) and then a trip to Turin, NY, a lovely small town that I played way back on Max & Ruby I.  Certainly enough time for us to fall into the "groove" with the show, get the load-out down to a cool 40 minutes (with allowances for elevators and other excitements) and begin to gel as a company.  All of which are important.  And has allowed me a moment to reflect on the show.

Y'all, this one is hard.

I'm not sure I've been clear on this fact, but we tell the tale of six different storybooks, plus an opening and closing number, in the span of a little over an hour.  Not a single tour I have done with Theatreworks comes close the number of costume changes or activity that this show does.  See, I just got off of Click Clack Moo, where I had a 20-minute coffee break in the middle of the show while the cows sang, and I still got the final bow.  Now, sure, Max and Ruby had some quick changes and A Christmas Carol is littered with different characters, but try flying through six costume changes in the first 10 minutes of the show (each with a different characterization and dance break) and then, in the changeover, remembering that you have five more stories left to go.  It ain't pretty.  In fact, here is some pre-show/post-show evidence of me in my basic "greys":

Yeah.  This one is hard work.  But, as far as we can tell, it's going very well.  Danny, our assistant director, came to see one of the shows in Manhattan, and seemed very pleased.  His biggest note for us was to maintain our strong character choices in those moments when we are playing to the kids, instead of giving in to them entirely.  Which is, admittedly, a challenge, because they respond so well that you want nothing more than to break.  We get audible cheers from the girls the moment we reveal that we will be doing "Fancy Nancy" and serious laughter when I introduce "Pirate's Don't Change Diapers."  On the East Side, our second audience was so excited to see us that they would barely stay quiet for the show, which was its own challenge as well.

It is also interesting to note some preparation differences.  It is abundantly clear to me when our audiences have read the stories, and when they are experiencing them for the first time with us.  Perhaps the most notable is "Babymouse: The Musical," a graphic novel meant for the older of our age ranges.  The third graders we met in Manhattan were clearly savvy to the characters and concept, and played along with more appreciation for the jokes than for the story.  However, today's performance in Turin, NY, a sort-of southern Adirondack town, drew intent stares and complete silence as our older audience members hung on every story detail.  Although, no matter how prepped they are, everybody laughs as the urine jokes in "I Have To Go" and Fancy Nancy's ice cream-covered crash in her tale.  I guess schtik sells!

And then there's the cast bonding.  We're doing great.  After a rough trip to our hotel in Amsterdam, NY (where Google Maps was convinced our hotel was in a cornfield, and only David's stage manager intuition got us to our Super 8 before 10pm).  Tonight, in Canton, NY, the cast headed to a great local food cafe and split two bottles of wine.  At the end, Courtney and Kristen observed, "We're really glad we've got you guys on this tour."  And their completely right.  As a group, we've hit that sense of ease and comfort with each other really fast, and all is well.  I couldn't ask for anything more.

Me (l.), Kristen, Courtney, Jonathan, Nic.  (Photo of David coming soon!)

Call tomorrow: 6:45am, Comfort Suites, Canton, NY.  Two shows in Ogdensburg, NY (right on the US-Canadian border).

Kid Quote of the Day: As Andrew was preparing to head offstage to "go" in "I Have To Go," a little boy shouted: "He's gonna try."  I was the only person left onstage after this, and, while staring into the wings, had to keep it together as the rest my castmates laughing hysterically offstage.

The Perfect Strom

This tour began with perhaps the most difficult of all Theatreworks circumstances: a three-show day, with a 6am call, at a school and "local" (meaning we're all sleeping at home, and are to transport ourselves to the van location on our own).  Which, at least on my end, meant a 4am alarm.  As one can imagine, everyone was putting on a brave (and alert!) face as we dove into the van before dawn, but, within 20 minutes, the car was filled with snoring.  The way it should be.

Our venue today was familiar to me, having been a location for Max & Ruby back in '08 and Click Clack Moo earlier this year.  And, on both occasions, the school has provided nothing but trouble.  Not because of the students (who are exceptional!) or the teachers (who are pro-active about thanking and congratulating us), but because of sound.  Yes, sound.  For those of you reading along in A Farm in Harmony, you may recall this post about our troubles.  Max & Ruby was no different.  Yet, after loading in, setting up and readying ourselves for the children, all seemed to be going swimmingly.  Our PTA contact had supplied us with cases of bottled water, fans were cooling the extraordinarily hot theater space, our kindergarten audience was clearly excited to see us and we were pumped.  All systems seemed go as we began our very first public performance.

Yeah right.

Just was we entered our fifth story, things seemed to start going awry.  This story, "Pirates Don't Change Diapers," is an intricate patter song detailing the transformation of rough-and-tumble pirates into babysitters.  The track is filled with percussive sound cues and timed within an inch of its life.  And so are we.  So, you can only imagine what happened when Jonathan went to sing his first set of instructions to the pirates, and discovered that there was no music to back him up.  As we stood there, staring at each other, I peaked out of the corner of my eye to David's station, where he was frantically pushing buttons and pulling on wires.  It appeared that the tracks had somehow stopped, or skipped, or something, and David was in the throes of sound technician hell, as he tried to fit it all back together.  Next thing I knew, Jonathan was moving forward, performing what we have come to describe as the "Rex Harrison" version of the show.  And, amazingly, with all the drilling we did in rehearsal, everything stayed in time and on beat, so much so that when David finally got the music going again, we dove right back in, as though nothing had ever happened.  Rather amazing for a cast on its first performance.  And certainly a good story.

But the fun did not stop there.  The school had arranged for us 15 minutes between shows, which contractually puts us into "half-hour invasion" and nets us a little extra cash in our paychecks.  However, this is pretty quick for reset time, particularly when each track runs between five and nine costumes and dozens of props.  All six of us were dutifully resetting for the top of the show (and chugging water; at some point, there will be a blog entry about sweat and this show), when we heard the school's assistant principal introducing our show to an assembled audience, a full five minutes prior to places and with no notice given to us.  This seems to be a common problem in shows that tour to schools, something I regularly encountered as Slim Goodbody and on many of my previous Theatreworks excursions.  Half in costume, and barely reset, we scrambled into place as David ran towards the audience to try to quell the situation.  But it was no use.  The next thing we knew, we were behind our panels and heading into our second performance, hoping our costumes and props would be there for us when we needed them.  And, excepting a more-than-slightly-late Secret Service agent and a panicked moment when the box of crackers seemed to be missing, they were.  Two shows down, and each one worthy of a tale.

After lunch at a local farm (and cupcakes, to toast our opening!), we returned for our third, smoothest and sweatiest performance.  (Somehow, the heaters were still on at this school, besides an outside temperature of 80°+.)  As we packed up, a gaggle of wide-eyed kids came galloping into the gymnacafetorium.  "You were great!" one shouted.  "I loved it," another one giggled.  "My favorite was when Fancy Nancy got dressed up," a little girl cooed.  "Were you the pirate?" a particularly-eager boy shouted up to Nic.  "When are you guys coming back for the next one?" a tallish boy asked me.  "Not sure," I said, "but I hope soon.  You guys were great!"  And I meant it.

Kid Quote of the Day: In all three shows, at least one child decided that they had to pee during "I Have To Go" (a story about a little boy who won't "go" until the very last moment).  Clearly, something is working.

Call tomorrow: Well, we have the weekend off, so call Monday is 6:30am at our Upper West Side garage.  But don't worry.  It's just a one-show day.

Another Opening

(photo is not of my cast)

Some of you may think I'm a little crazy. And you're probably right. I know there are plenty of actors and stage managers who have done more, but I'm about to embark on my fifth touring experience with Theatreworks/USA. Which is a lot, I've gathered, mostly from the playful ribbings I've received from many Theatreworks staff. However, crazy or not (and, let's be honest, who isn't a little nuts in this business?), there are a few reasons I keep coming back. And the rehearsal process of Duck for President, Fancy Nancy and Other Storybooks has proven to me that all of them are still valid.

Duck for President, Fancy Nancy and Other Storybooks (and the show can go by either or both names, so don't get too confused) is a revue-sical of six short storybooks: Duck for President, Fancy Nancy, I Have To Go, Leonardo, the Terrible Monster, Pirates Don't Change Diapers and, finally, Babymouse: The Musical. Six mini-musicals strung together in a Reading Rainbow-esque invitation to "turn a page." This is the third of Theatreworks's attempts at this type of show, and clearly it's a formula that works.

Perhaps most exciting for me is that this show is brand new, having been workshopped and given a "mini-tour" around New York and New Jersey last spring. Our company is the first to have completed audio tracks to sing with, finished set pieces to turn, full props to throw (well, maybe not throw) and piles of costumes to change. We really are the first production to head out, which is, for me, a first as well. And that fact has certainly made the rehearsal process an adventure. Daily, stage business and choreography changed, harmonies got altered, keys moved up and down, set changes shifted, costumes got fit more snugly to our frames and, slowly, everything slid into place. Theatreworks gave us an extra two days of rehearsal over the normal load to make sure everything was in sync. As with all Theatreworks tours, our time on the road will help inform and deepen a lot of the choices and timing but, as the reaction final run will attest, we are ready.

And who are "we" exactly? Well, for the first time in my Theatreworks history, "we" are six, not seven. Our show is down to a single van, with five actors and a stage manager in the front and our set in the back. And "we" are also mostly veterans of Theatreworks/USA tours. Courtney (whose main character is Fancy Nancy) and Nic (Pirate Braidbeard) have each done a tour before, so they very much know what to expect. David, our stage manager, is going on his fourth Theatreworks tour. And newbies Jonathan (Duck) and Kristen (Babymouse) are both in more-than-fighting form for the road. This company is outrageously talented and funny, which has made the last two-and-a-half weeks really fun. In my estimations, we have picked up a very complicated show in record time, particularly with the shifting ground that comes with a piece of theater still under construction.

So, why exactly do I keep doing these tours that many people swear they will only do once? Well, as former blogs have shown, Theatreworks has provided me with the chance to see places and meet people I would never have been able to otherwise. Many of my very best friends have come from Theatreworks, and more-than-a-few of my professional connections have stemmed from rehearsals at Chelsea Studios. The Theatreworks brand of tour is a very essential type of theater: we are the show from start to finish, and we make it work in whatever circumstances we find ourselves. I love the ownership that gives me of the production: it feels like mine from start to finish, which make the highs (and lows) that much more exciting. Theatreworks has taught me to pace myself, to maintain consistency over a long run, to collaborate creatively in high-pressure circumstances, to remain flexible, to compromise and adjust to keep a company happy and to maintain a sense of fun, even in some challenging moments. And, of course, part of why I do this is the kids. Some of my favorite memories of touring are still the random exclamations that come from the kiddies at the most unexpected moments. Maybe it's sappy, but I do get a kick out of being part of a kid's first live theatrical experience, or inspiring a munchkin so much that he wants nothing more than to run home and read a book. Sometimes the life of an actor feels a little soulless, with the constant rejection and daily grind of auditions, but there is no more affirming feeling than hundreds eager, smiling faces hanging on your every word as you bring their favorite characters to life before them.

And I should know.

Call tomorrow: 6am, Garage on the Upper West Side. We are opening with a three-show day at a school I've performed at twice before. This seems fitting somehow.