Carousel Hell

I’m finally getting back to the blog after several weeks burning in Carousel hell.  Oh, for an evening luxuriating in my musty apartment watching reality TV and munching on take-out Chinese instead of riding sardine-like on an NJ Transit bus to the wilds of suburban New Jersey. 

Happily, the second weekend of shows is behind me and the glorious closing night is just days away.  Huzzah!  I can already smell the bitter scent of embarrassment and regret hanging in the air in anticipation of the inevitable closing night, post cast party, drunken hook-ups.  Actors and alcohol - not pretty.

For a show that’s never had a rehearsal where the full cast has been available, it’s surprisingly good.  The audiences have been loving it and leave cheering and weeping (for all the right reasons).  But that’s mainly due to an all-around, incredibly talented group of leads and a few supremely dedicated featured ensemble members.

To say the rehearsal period for Carousel has been challenging is like saying neurosurgery is just like a really intense game of Operation.  We didn’t have a full cast run-through until just a few days before opening night and I don’t think I ever had a single Dream Ballet rehearsal with all the dancers.  It seemed on this cast’s list of priorities, Carousel ranked just below getting a full body wax and just above getting a colonoscopy.  So though the inhabitants of this turn-of-the-century New England town are smooth as an Abercrombie & Fitch cover model, they’re also remarkably under-rehearsed…and in desperate need of an enema.

There were also multiple family deaths within the cast (three the week before tech), three car accidents, high school and college spring breaks, vacations, cast members committing to multiple shows and the inevitable string of illnesses and (insert eye roll here) blatant lies. 

Even now, the theatre’s basement TB ward - aka the dressing rooms - is a near constant symphony of hacking, snorting and blown noses.  Between mono, sinus infections, strep throat, concussions (don’t ask) and allergies, it’s like a stage full of the walking dead.  I imagine the emergency room of a third world country having a similar aura of un-cleanliness and death. 

Don’t get me wrong, the whole cast isn’t this uncommitted, unmotivated or uncooperative - just most.  And for the record, I’ve been to every freaking one of our 30 odd rehearsals over the last three months.  I guess that makes me eligible for a “Most-wasted-time-reverse-commuting-to-rehearsal-for-a-cast-that-doesn’t-show-up” Tony nomination. 

But seriously, as much as I bitch and moan, I am proud of the finished product.  I guess I’m more bitter about the missed opportunity.  I hear the audience praising the quality of the show and performances, yet I can only imagine what could have transpired had the full cast committed to attending rehearsals. 

Sigh.

After every community theatre experience, I swear it will be my last.  Yet somehow, I always find myself back on that NJ Transit bus hoping this time will be different.  Oh well, I guess I’m just a masochist at heart.

And yes, I know I still owe a Leap of Faith review.  I actually disagree with most of the reviews.  It's not nearly as awful as the still-running Ghost or Mamma Mia!  I guess I'm growing more forgiving in my middle age.