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.
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