Desir at Spiegelworld

All I can say is that was some crazy sh*t. How to describe it? - an R-rated Cirque Du Soleil on acid and ‘shrooms. Sounds awesome, right? Well, our older brother Gerry is visiting town from down under - at least down under NYC - Austin, TX. Since we hadn’t caught anything at the Spiegeltent and he wanted to see something “he couldn’t see in Texas,” Desir seemed perfect.

The evening off started mysteriously enough. We couldn’t find it. I knew it was down at the Seaport, but the entrance and tent are appropriately hidden down a back alley behind the old Fulton Fish Market. Now when I say tent, I’m not talking Ringling Brothers. It’s a one ring affair with about six rows of chairs all the way around. Everything’s draped in red velvet and stained glass and it instantly made me think of a French whorehouse - not a nasty Las Vegas chicken ranch, but a very expensive, exclusive French boudoir. It was all very rich and sumptuous. And to top it off, there’s a fully stocked bar in the tent. They actually encourage you to buy drinks and take them back to your seats.

The show is equal parts cabaret, circus, burlesque, theatre and acrobatics. Imagine if the US men’s and women’s gymnastic team got drunk, stripped down to their underwear and got jiggy on a trapeze. I mean, there wasn’t any actual nudity, but they didn’t really leave much to the imagination. And did I mention they serve beer?

For me, the highlight was the female Russian acrobats who performed an extremely “intimate” - read lesbo - routine while suspended above the tiny circus ring on a square, steel bar. And by “ring” I mean a circular bed the size of an average dinner table. The novelty here (aside from the sexual innuendo and half-nude bodies) is being able to sit literally fifteen feet from the performers while they dangle above your heads contorting and spinning. And they serve beer.

Trish’s favorite moment was a scene in which a boxer-brief clad hottie laid on a bed surrounded by half-naked (sense a theme here?) buff guys and gals. To Prince’s “Cream,” they sprayed whipped cream all over his body and seductively down their throats. Then the whipped creamed hottie smeared it all over his chest and mounded it over his genitals before one of the gals neatly topped it off with a jewel-studded apple. Definitely not Ringling Bros. And did I mention beer?

Anyway, we had a great time hanging out at Spiegelworld after the show. Spiegelworld is a super-hip, temporary complex of bars, restaurants and outdoor seating areas surrounding the tent and overlooking those crazy manmade waterfalls under the Brooklyn Bridge. So we spent the rest of the evening relaxing by the water, slung back on temporary hammocks, digesting images of naked gymnasts; not a bad way to spend a Monday night. We’ll definitely be back to catch Absinthe, the tents other erotic-flavored show before the season ends in November.

Michael Bennett is laughing his ass off

How much can one accomplish in 45 seconds? Quite a lot actually. After I stopped bitching and moaning about the time restriction placed on the presentation of my “Outstanding Choreography” by the producers of the Perry Awards ceremony, I began whittling the 15-minute dream ballet down to a 30 to 40 second snippet that would best display my choreographic genius (sarcasm folks, get used to it). Granted, I didn’t stop bitching and moaning until just this weekend, when I met with my two lovely leads, Chris and Corinne. But after some judicious cutting and some creative re-choreographing, we’ve actually come up with a 45 second mini-dream ballet! Not that it’s perfect or that I couldn’t use another 10-15 seconds (or minute or two or three), but necessity is definitely the mother f*cker of invention.

Now just because I was able to figure out a sufficient (though not ideal) solution, I still think 40 seconds is ridiculous. Here’s how the producers explained the time limit to me - and I’m paraphrasing quite freely, of course. Since Michael Bennett was able to accomplish so much in the first 40 seconds of A Chorus Line, you should, too. And that makes sense how? It’s apples and oranges. First, Bennett was a genius and I am not worthy to wash his dance belt, let alone deign to think I could accomplish anything remotely akin to ACL. But I can’t speak for the other nominees. Perhaps one of them is a genius on par with Bennett hiding in the world of community theatre in defiance of the artistically barren, commercial wasteland that is Broadway. But I seriously doubt it. Also, there’s context. The first 40 seconds of ACL are not plot-driven. It’s an audition situation that is meant to showcase technique, not further plot. What are you supposed to get out of that first 40 seconds of ACL? That these are really good dancers at an audition. Of course, that's over-simplifying and God knows I'm not implying that the first 40 seconds of ACL aren't brilliant, but Bennett's genius was that he knew his context, not to mention his knack for putting together striking stage pictures and formations. It's not so difficult to put together a series of difficult tricks. But try to couple those tricks with concise, meaningful story-telling. That’s a different matter. I choose to present a complete, thoughtful section of choreography that tells a full story and develops character rather than haul out a horse-and-pony show of triple pirouettes and tour jetes.

And then there’s tempi - there are a lot of counts to fill in that first 40 seconds of ACL. Not so much if you’re using a slower, lyrical section of music. I know what you’re thinking. Nobody’s holding a gun to your head, Mr. Holier-Than-Thou Fausto, and forcing you to use the Dream Ballet. OK, fine, you got me there. But I was told that it would be “really great” if I could. I mean, how subtle a hint do I need? The producers obviously want me to do that section. Anyway, the other nominees are either tap or traditional “Broadway”-style jazz dance. All of which, in my opinion, are more easily showcased in a 40 second snippet. I mean, 40 seconds of 42nd Street? Puh-leaze. I can have 15 people doing wings and triple time steps and finish it off with front handsprings across the stage and the audience will be creaming in their pants.

And then the shows nominated for Best Production get seven minutes to present whatever they want. Seven minutes? That's three full songs. The Tonys don't even grant seven minutes.

The Perry people complain that their ceremony takes too long. Might I suggest 90 seconds for choreography and 5 minutes for musical scenes? I think that’s completely fair and still manages to cut down the time of presentations by several minutes. Oh well, I’m just bitching and enjoying they view up here from my high horse. The Perry producers don’t give a rat’s ass what I think, although I am part of the Pineda's, an up-and-coming family in NJ community theatre. That should count for something. Or more likely, nothing. But I guess I'm just ranting like a lunatic. But it's far cheaper to do it here than on a therapists couch. Deep breath - I feel much better now.

The Olympics are taking over my life!

I think my Olympic fever is finally breaking. Yes, it was exciting the first week, and being the queen that I am was thrilled the games started off with gymnastics - buff men in stirrup-pant leotards - how much gayer can you get? And did you see that embarrassing picture of the team shirtless with their medals? I mean, they look good and all, but did they have to pose together like that? It looks like the cover of some crazy sports-themed gay porn. Anyway, now I've found myself losing interest as the TV coverage marches on. I mean, how can men's trampoline - WTF!!!! - outdo Michael Phelp's eight Gold Medals?! And that tie-breaker sham on the individual woman's uneven bars? Nastia got f*cked hard up the ass with that one. The only consolation to the women's gymnastics team getting screwed over by the underage Chinese team (16 my ass) was hearing Bela Karolyi go off on the judges in those post event interviews. And that Canadian men's synchro diving team of Alexandre Despatie and Arturo Miranda, with Despatie demanding his best "bud" Arturo be his partner or he wouldn't compete? I think they're more like butt buddies if you ask me, considering Arturo ain't such a hot diver but looks damn fine in a speedo (see pic). Oh well, it will all be over in a few days and I'll have my evenings back for the new seasons of "Chuck", "Ugly Betty" and "The Biggest Loser"!

I am, however, excited for some of my recent ticket purchases: Desir (the sexy, rated-R circus show at the Spiegeltent) next week, Equus starring Harry Potter’s peter (I mean Daniel Radcliffe) in mid-September, and Billy Elliot (hopefully not in a neutered “American-safe” edition) in November. The Met also just opened its box office for single ticket sales. I’m definitely looking forward to seeing hottie Erwin Schrott in Giovanni, Patricia Racette in the gorgeous new Madama Butterfly (I caught this opening season w/ the incredibly underpowered vocalizing of Cristina Gallardo-Domâs but was blown away by the physical production) and my home girl, Diana Damrau in the title role in Lucia. All this, and I’ll begin rehearsals for both High School Musical at CDC and The Merry Widow with the newly-formed Pineda Lyric Opera Company (formerly Little Opera Company of NJ). So this fall is shaping up to be crazy busy for me! Did I also mention we’re doing a benefit concert for the opera company in October? Can you say “over-committed”? Anyway, it’s always good being busy so I don’t have time to dwell on the fact that I have no life outside of Morgan Stanley and the theatre. I guess that’s why I enjoy the Olympics so much. For a moment I can pretend I’m just a normal person. I even forced myself and - surprise - enjoyed watching a basketball game. Will wonders never cease? Soon I’ll be drinking, belching and farting on the couch with the other straighties - not. So stay tuned for some reviews and wild tales from Community Theatre land.

"Staycation's all I ever wanted..."

I can’t believe it’s August. Where did July go? Oh yeah, now I remember, I spent it living in the CDC theatre. Thankfully, the first Pineda Conservatory season is finally over. Not that it wasn’t fun and rewarding and all that good stuff, but it’s nice to actually sleep where I’m paying (exorbitant!) rent. To celebrate, Trish, Juan, Val and I decided for a staycation close to home (redundant?), specifically Allentown, PA, where the Pineda brothers went to high school and Trish was born. Thanks to some useful gift cards from some of our summer kids, we bought two-day passes to Dorney Park and Wildwater Kingdom.

Trish and I in front of Dorney's Center Stage, which I'm sure can't hold a candle to our Center Stage

I still remember when Dorney was a dirty, nasty, ghetto hang-out for delinquent teens and white trash families. I mean, it was used to film scenes in the gritty original Hairspray movie for Pete's sake (the John Waters' one, not the recent squeaky clean musical version). That was back in the glorious 80’s (that’s sarcastic, unless you didn’t get it without the verbal inflection) and there was no admission and seemingly no trash collection either. Holy crap! Now it’s filled with roller coasters, landscaping and actual trash cans. It’s still a little on the white-trash side as far as clientele, but it’s cleaned up nicely and the stale scent of urine no longer wafts from the park’s pond. Another plus - tetanus shots no longer required, as they seemed to have replaced or renovated most of the ancient rides. Funny how the junkie, run-down, carni rides from my elementary school days are now labeled “Classic Rides.” I guess if you wait long enough, put a fresh coat of paint over something and hang a plaque on it, anything can be considered a “Classic.” I hope that works for me in a couple of years. Anyway, having gotten into the park early that morning, we had ridden nearly every coaster by lunch. Val only came close to barfing once, on the “Steel Force”’s 205-foot, 75 mph first drop (see the lovely stolen pic below).

By Saturday afternoon, the deceptively cool morning gave way to a scorching afternoon. We had the genius idea, as did the seemingly thousands of other park-goers, to head into the water park. Since there’s no physical gate between Dorney and Wildwater Kingdom, there’s no mechanism in place to prevent everyone in the park from leaving Dorney and heading into the water park - which is exactly what happened. We were soon jammed mosh-pit style with a sweaty mass of half-naked strangers hoping to get a toe in the wave pool. Ugh. Dehydrated and annoyed, we left for our luxuriously appointed room at the HoJo’s across the street (again, sarcasm). It actually wasn’t too bad, except that the hallway smelled like an old ashtray. The plus side? There was an indoor pool with hot tub! Yeah! Who needs an over-chlorinated wave pool full of toddler urine anyway!? We conveniently drove away the old couple that was already swimming there - can you say “scared of brown people?” - so we had the pool and tub all to ourselves.

Since we didn’t actually pay for the park admission, we felt no obligation to return to the park for the evening and instead opted for visiting the local Kmart (I spent nearly a hundred dollars on junk!), buying up candy at Josh Early’s (peanut butter truffles and dark chocolate pistachio bark, yum) and eating at an incredible hole-in-the-wall BBQ place ironically called The Ritz. They make their own BBQ, including a ham version that was deeeelicous and their own ice cream (you can see us enjoying above, as well as me showing off my fine fat ass). We even ordered two pounds of it to pick-up and take home with us the next day.

Since you can’t say you’ve been on vacation until you’ve thrown up your weight in junk food, we went to the 24-hour Giant supermarket and bought chips, dip, a lifetime supply of diet Turkey Hill iced tea and - wait for it - red velvet and peanut butter whoopie pies! We then spent the rest of the evening watching the Olympics, eating and sitting on the toilet. Now that’s what I call a vacation.

Sunday rolled around and we decided to hit Wildwater Kingdom before the forecasted thunderstorms hit that afternoon. We managed to get in all the major slides and water rides, eat tacos, pierogies and fries and get into a fight with a mentally-handicapped child’s parents. And all before one in the afternoon! A full day, if you ask me. Once the storm hit, we headed to the Flemington outlets where I again dropped over $200 in new work clothes. Since the weather was so bad, we just decided to head back to Jersey and pretend we were still at the HoJo’s. We loaded up on the junk food again, settled into our underwear and watched Michael Phelps and the rest of the relay team as they snatched up another gold medal. Go USA!

Les Mis rewind

OK, so I'm getting flack from people because I didn't really write anything about our summer conservatory's production of Les Mis so to make it more interesting and in honor of my Perry award nomination, below are my picks for the First Annual Pineda Summer Conservatory Awards, The Pinedas for short.

Latest start of performance: During Friday's matinee (which also happened to start 15 minutes late), the fire alarm went off ten measures into the prologue and everyone had to be evacuated. We waited outside the theatre for at least 10 minutes more until the fire department arrived. Did I mention it was like 150 degrees out?

Performance with the most tears: Saturday night's show. Lots of audible sniffling in the audience. A close second, the ring of sobbing kids around the dessert table at the Spotlight's cast party's "pass the love" session on Thursday night.

Longest death scene: Anna Dugan as Fantine, Sunday evening. Well, I guess it wasn't necessarily longer than usual, it just seemed that way because Brian Hart (Valjean) forgot to go onstage. He was outside the theatre shooting the sh*t with Pami Marks as she was spraying his hair gray and giving him wrinkles for the next scene.

Best performance of a wig: The short Fantine shag. That sucker would not stay on anyone's head (even for Briana on Cabaret Night). It looked great, though! Runner-up: The Fantine long blond wig. Those two beeyatches looked great in that sucker.

Best "Lovely Lady" cleavage: Anna Dugan - 'nuff said.

Best "Lovely Lady" antics: Anna Dugan (see above) and Jen Dilzell with her skirt-lifting chair straddle.

Most consistent wrong vocal entrance: Peter Carmo. Twice for "Lovely Ladies" and twice for "Look down..."

Most fanatic audience member: The Les Mis freak who had seen the Broadway production 10 times and requested tickets for a sold-out Friday night. His reply, "I'm thin." After a second denial from Val, he asked for standing room tickets. Standing room? He'd obviously never been to the CDC.

Worst ensemble vocal: Thursday night's machine gun second act ending of "tomorrow c-c-c-c-c-c-comes!"

Most f*cked up musical scene that was never correct during performance: "Attack on Rue Plumet"

Most likely not to watch the conductor for an entrance: Catalina - as Epinone before "don't you fret...", close second - anyone in the "Attack of Rue Plumet" scene, close third - Dillon on entrance after "Liar."

Most mispronounced character name by Valerie: Thenardier.

Cleanest "dirty" person on stage: Anna Dugan. You need more dirt on that face, girlfriend.

Best ensemble "deer-in-headlights" moment: Friday matinee's begger entrance of "Look down..."

Loudest ensemble entrance: see "headlights" moment above.

Best understudy: Bobby O'Rourke as the foreman. Totally skeevy groping those gals.

Wierdest mother/daughter combo: Stephanie Louis (Madam T) as Holly Curran's (Eponine) mom.

Most diverse character acting choices: William Shore. From priest to drunken lech. Way to go Will!

Most chewed scenery: Dan Berman, Friday evening performance.

Most likely to be roaming around theatre with no shirt on: Tie - Peter Carmo and Dan Berman.

It's an honor just to be nominated...

Ok, so I'm sure this post is going to get me blacklisted from every community theatre in New Jersey, but, oh well. I've never run with the "popular kids" before, so why start now? I found out this week that I was nominated for a Perry Award for Outstanding Choreography for the production of Oklahoma! I choreographed this spring at the CDC. First, I give a hearty "thank you" to the nominating committee and to my awesome cast (and I mean that without the slightest hint of sarcasm). But I know Michael Bennett is spinning in his grave at the thought that I'd top any list of choreographers. Honestly, I could barely hand jive when I booked my first national tour, Grease!, back in the 90's (as my good friend and that show's dance captain, Chris, will definitely attest to). God, I'm old.

I know I should feel honored and sh*t and I am, truly. But the Perry people just seem so out of touch with the theatre community (not community theatre) at large and, dare I say it, almost feel like a cult. When I talked to the representative, he exclaimed that we (the Pineda's) were an up-and-coming family in the NJ community theatre world. Really? Up-and-coming? Juan - Broadway veteran; me - couple of national tours, prestigious regional credits and a Carbonell nomination; Trish - soloist with several national symphony orchestras; and Val - conservatory grad (well, not officially, but that's another story) and successful producer of professional opera. So by their standards, if you haven't done NJ community theatre you haven't "made it"? How sad. I know I sound jaded and snotty, and perhaps I'm acting a bit high and mighty, but I don't really see it that way. It just struck me as so ridiculous when I heard the guy actually say "up-and-coming." Technically, I guess we are "up-and-coming" in the community theatre world in NJ, but it's purely semantics. Isn't it just a bit ironic to put "NJ community theatre" and "up-and-coming" in the same sentence anyway? The whole conversation and "buzz" around the Perry's just seems so Guffman-like.

Never one to pretend that I'm a pillar of righteousness, I have to admit that I was sort of an asshole to the Perry guy (I use this moniker throughout as I don't make it a habit of printing names unless I'm complimenting someone, I know the person can handle the criticism or if I just flat out hate the person). Our phone conversation went something like this:

Perry dude: Congratulations, the Pineda's seem like an up-and-coming family in the NJ community theatre world.
Me (deadpan): ...or maybe we just got lucky.
Perry dude: (moment of stunned silence)...well, uh, ok.

I guess my singular brand of sarcasm just doesn't read over the phone. Or I just don't take compliments well. Or maybe I'm really just an asshole. Either way, it's too late to take it back now. I guess I can kiss any future nominations good-bye. Sigh.

I'm sure they do a bang up job with the presentation and that the ceremony is entertaining, etc. But the Perry guy actually said it was "like the Tonys." In what way? Radio City vs. hotel banquet hall, Broadway/movie stars vs. local community theatre talent (minus the Pineda's since we're just "up-and-coming"), voters seeing at least most of the shows under consideration vs. point system where no one sees a majority of the shows under consideration. Just like the Tonys? Hmmm. What I'm hoping from the ceremony is an entertaining night of people-watching, so that I can have lots of juicy stuff to write about the next day. The one thing that seemed truly exciting about his description of the event? - 700 drunk theatre people staying overnight in a hotel together. Now that's drama. Can't wait!

Debauchery and delinquency

Oh, to be a teenager again! The acne, prom dates, band geeks, popular kids...
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