Countdown to Pineda Summer Conservatory and Fausto with power tools

For many of you, being stuck in a cement room no bigger than your average movie theatre with a hundred excited, hormonal teens for five hours a day is the very definition of hell on earth.  For the Pinedas, it's just business as usual.

Granted, things have improved greatly since we finally got air conditioning installed in the theatre last summer.  I still think back fondly to those first few summers, watching cast members pass out on stage during performances in 90 degree heat while wearing twenty pound wool costumes.  Ah, the good old days.

Since our crazy conservatory schedule coupled with my 9-to-5 literally allows me no vacation time (the European cruise with the family 2 years ago was the first time in over four years that I had more than a long weekend off), I revel in the freedom of my three weeks working at the summer conservatory.  And by freedom I mean not having to check my email every five minutes and the luxury of wearing shorts and tank tops to work.

With the first day of classes beginning next Monday, we're in full panic mode with preparations (mainly the mental kind).  Last weekend, we spent a day in the theatre to get a head start on set building.  Yes, Fausto and power tools - a combination that must be seen to be believed.  I'm actually quite handy with a jigsaw, thank you very much.

To see my handiwork onstage (hint - that coral reef didn't grow itself) you'll have to check out Spotlight Theatre Program's production of Disney's The Little Mermaid Jr in a couple of weeks.

"Magic Flute" frustrations & melodic colonic at "The Little Mermaid"

The Bad Seed, 1956

Dante has obviously never produced a full length opera performed entirely by 12 to 18 year olds, otherwise he'd most certainly have included a tenth level of hell somewhere between the fifth (anger) and the seventh (violence) rings.  I found myself precariously poised between anger and violence following Saturday afternoon's tedious Magic Flute rehearsal at which several of the leading performers were still stumbling over lines and blocking after a mere four months of rehearsal (the show opens in one week).

Is it no wonder Val decided to take last season off from producing operas?  Sure, producing any kind of classical art form, let alone opera, in this economy and within a youth culture of instant gratification and entitlement is an iffy proposition.  But last season's break was as much a mental health issue as it was a financial one.  Sometimes you just need to cleanse the mental palate - or in this case, scrape it clean.

Okay, rant over.  Moving on...

Trish matches the poster!

With those damn Magic Flute melodies insinuating themselves into our brains like a bad case of head lice, we decided on an impromptu trip to the Paper Mill Playhouse for a melodic colonic via Alan Menken’s tuneful Little Mermaid score.  There is nothing more catchy (or annoying) in all the musical theatre canon than Ariel’s three-note, ascending theme.  I bet you're hearing it in your head right now and cursing me.  Bwah ha ha ha.

The Little Mermaid

Paper Mill Playhouse

Saturday, June 1, 7PM

Apparently, Saturday's gay night (aka actor night) at the Paper Mill.  In the audience we spotted Ra-Sean Holloway, Don Rey, Matt LaBanca, Matt Tweardy and Daniel Torres all slumming it in Jersey for tonight’s performance.  At least we were in good company.

The original Broadway production of The Little Mermaid, though it had its moments (specifically the glorious vocals of Sierra Boggess), was mostly a bloated, stylistically inconsistent mess.  But that’s what happens when you attempt to stretch the near perfect original Disney movie into two acts in order to justify charging over $100 a ticket. 

For Paper Mill’s production, Disney granted the artistic team permission to re-write and tweak the original script.  It could still use some judicious snipping (the added Ursula songs are abysmal and the eels do not need their own song), but the Paper Mill version is superior, with a clearer, more streamlined book.

The physical production has also been re-thought.  No more mer-folk in heelys.  Instead, our scaly friends are suspended from cables and “swim” through the air.  It’s a major improvement visually over the skates, though the novelty began to fade by the second act.  And all those body rolls to approximate swimming are a little much.  We get it.  You're underwater.  You're fish.  But please stop.  

One major misstep with the flying/swimming is during “Part of Your World.”  Poor Jessica Grové is being whipped around the stage the entire song and as a result, suffers vocally and dramatically.  In the Broadway version, Sierra made me cry simply sitting there onstage.  Grové’s version only succeeded in making me seasick (not her fault, of course).

The rest of the cast is uniformly excellent with Nick Adams showing off a surprisingly legit voice (who knew he had that hidden underneath his Priscilla drag).  I wish Ed Watts had more opportunity to show off his ringing baritone voice, but he fills out his wet suit nicely.  And poor Liz McCartney valiantly tries to put over the two worst songs in the show (though in consolation, she also gets the best song, "Poor, Unfortunate Souls").

Don't forget to come out this summer and check out our middle school Spotlight Theatre students present Disney's Little Mermaid Jr.  We promise lots of flying and stunning visual effects!  And by "flying" I mean "walking" and by "stunning visual effects" I mean "a backdrop."

I need a vacation from my vacation (part trois)

Click here for part une
Click here for part deux

Week Three (July 30):
It’s Monday and I’m still churning out slutty choreography for Legally Blonde with a detour into High School Musical-land to tweak some student choreography.  With HSM opening in just three days, we simultaneously rehearse and start run-throughs so that the multiple casts can get at least one full dress rehearsal before the first Wednesday matinee. 

Though exhausted, we stay late tonight because Val has her first HSM orchestra rehearsal.  As the strains of faux, quasi-musical theatre pop echo through the empty theatre, I put finishing touches on the set and wonder why we didn’t choose a less strenuous career path, like marathon running or Olympic gymnastics.  Speaking of the Olympics, we ended up missing almost all of the coverage.  Oh well, there’s always 2016.

(July 31) Tuesday night is my first orchestra rehearsal for Legally Blonde.  I’ve barely had enough time to shower let alone study the conductor’s score, so I’m basically winging it.  Hopefully, I won’t come off as a complete moron in front of the mostly professional orchestra.  The rest of the Pineda clan stays late with me to continue their never-ending work on costumes, lights and sets all to the soothing tones of the "Bend and Snap." 

(Aug 1) Wednesday afternoon is the first performance of HSM.  With the theatre in use, I take the rest of the campers down the road to the Elk’s Club and continue rehearsing Legally Blonde.  Unfortunately, a huge chunk of the dancing ensemble is also in HSM.  With all the missing people, ensemble clean-up and detail work is pointless.  Instead, I spend most of the time choreographing the first act finale, which I’ve let go to the last minute in the hopes of being “divinely inspired.” No such luck.  Once again, I’ll just have to wing it since we open in three days.

A few hours later we’re back at the theatre where Val is politely kicking the stragglers from the HSM audience out of the lobby.  Thus begins our first dress rehearsal of Legally Blonde.  Everyone’s exhausted.  This is our fourth show to open in a week and the kids are wandering the stage like zombies.  With the addition of props and set pieces, the cast seems to have forgotten all their blocking. 

Undeterred, at 5:30 we push the student zombies out the door, order Chinese food and get the theatre ready for the evening performance of HSM.  I’m not really involved, so thankfully I can just veg out in the lobby during the show.  Mercifully, the junior version of HSM is much shorter than the full licensed version so we are able to get everyone out, lock up the theatre and get home just before midnight.  In the last two weeks, we have rarely spent less than 14 hours a day at the CDC.  Ah, the glamorous life!

(Aug 2) Seven hours later and we're back at the theatre.  Today is basically a repeat of yesterday's hellacious schedule except we stay late after the evening performance to change over to the Legally Blonde set.  What does “change over” consist of?  Oh, just repainting the HSM flats, side stages and benches, striking the un-needed HSM set pieces, hanging set pieces from the fly rail, re-setting the pit and cleaning and re-setting the dressing rooms with a new set of costumes.  Sound “fun” yet? 

For tonight's change over it’s all-hands-on-deck, including ma and pa Sieracki (Val’s parents) who are visiting from Florida.  Apparently, they’ve also been staying at Juan and Val’s house this week, though the only evidence of this has been the whiff of breakfast I smell on the way out the door in the morning as we head to camp.  We finally get a chance to catch up with them at the theatre over the roar of power tools and the smell of wet paint.  Sexy.  Tonight we skip the HSM closing night cast party because by the time we call it quits, the party has long since finished. 

(Aug 3) We drag our asses into the theatre early on Friday morning.  We are all running on just a couple hours of sleep and late night McDonald’s drive-thru.  We have one day to complete the change over we started the previous night as well as squeeze in two full dress run-throughs, one with full orchestra (the first and only time the cast will get to rehearse with the orchestra before we open tomorrow afternoon). 

With a cast full of mostly first-time summer conservatory students, the sense of anxiety and panic is palpable.  These kids are used to months of rehearsals at their high schools, not our three-week crash-and-burn schedule.  Juan and I lie through sincere smiles and assure the young cast that everything will be fine. Don’t get me wrong, by Sunday the show will be up and running like clockwork, but what happens at the first performance Saturday afternoon is anybody’s guess. 

Surprisingly, we are able to get through two full run-throughs without any major hiccups.  Some years, the first performance is the first time we actually run the show non-stop.  So we’re in great shape; though we still won’t know exactly how the show will sound since our bass player wasn’t able to make the final dress and our drummer wasn’t able to get to the rehearsal until halfway through the first act.  No matter, it’s still one of the smoothest final dress rehearsals we’ve had for a summer show. 

We don’t stay late tonight.  It's "fuck-it Friday" - if there’s a costume not quite right or a set piece unfinished at this point, that’s how it will stay for the run - fuck-it!

(Aug 4) We have a larger-than-usual audience for the first Saturday matinee, mainly because the show is so popular with the MTV crowd.  There are a few minor music cue problems and some ragged scene changes, but all-in-all, it’s a great first run and the audience is loving it.  Surprisingly, we get no audience backlash from the overt sexuality, language or gay references.  I guess between Jerseylicious and The Jersey Shore, some rump-shaking and cursing seems pretty de rigueur for north Jersey.

The positive buzz on facebook started at intermission so we anticipate a full house tonight.  I’m still not sold on the choreography for the first act finale - you know, the number I threw together literally two days ago.  But I’ll take a closer look at it tonight.  If you’ve worked with us before, you know not to get too comfortable with any blocking or choreography.  Juan and I are notorious for making full-scale changes even after a show’s opened (and sometimes even during intermission).  My infamous unfinished choreography of the last 32-bars of a dance number up until the half-hour call of the first performance has now become stuff of Pineda legend.

Because nearly every role is double cast, no two performances have the same exact set of leads.  I know that’s not the norm for high school productions, but it’s great experience for student actors and keeps them on their toes.  It also means the evening performance could still be a train wreck even if the afternoon runs smoothly.  With that in mind, we order take-out for dinner so we can stay at the theatre and prep for the evening show and new leads. 

Thank God for social networking and the internet because in just a few hours the good word has spread and tonight’s performance is sold out.  We actually end up turning people away at the door.  As excited cast members return from their dinner break, we give out acting notes and minor adjustments to blocking based on the afternoon performance. With a new slate of leads, we treat tonight's performance as a second "opening night" of sorts.

The new air conditioning is blasting, but the theatre still warms up thanks to a full house.  Again, except for some minor slip-ups, the show proceeds rather smoothly.  But I’m definitely still hating the first act finale.  I’ll have to go home and think about how I can correct that before tomorrow’s matinee.  We head home knowing the phones will be ringing off the hook with ticket requests.

(Aug 5)  The Sunday matinee is nearly sold out.  The kids are old pros by now and we know the show is in solid shape - except for my first act finale.  So at half hour I grab my dancer girls and completely re-choreograph the end of the act.  I'd been re-playing the moment in my head all morning and it finally dawned on me that as usual, I've over-choreographed it.  It's now time to simplify and streamline.  Behind the show curtain and with the sound of the audience filling the theatre, the girls nervously run-through the new steps which they'll perform full out, in context for the first time during the actual performance.  Yay, for live theatre! 

The closing night performance is standing room only.  Tonight is bittersweet for the kids.  They're stoked about their success but sad the summer's over.  I'm not.  By tomorrow I'll be back in the comfort of my cozy apartment, lounging in my underwear and catching up on a month's worth of DVR, blissfully content to be working only a paltry 9-hour day at the office.  But for now, I'm in the pit waving my arms like a fat, deranged, featherless turkey, trying to push the tempos in hopes of clipping at least a good  5 or 6 minutes from the performance.  Tonight after the final bows come all the speeches and flowers and I want to compensate for the inevitable lovefest to come.

Per usual, the closing night curtain call is followed by the cast singing our camp song.  As the opening refrain ends and the tempo changes, the kids from the other programs bum-rush the stage and join in.  And then as if on cue, the tears start rolling on stage.  The evening ends with heartfelt speeches, hugs and lots of flowers.  It's finally over.  Almost.

The kids are now hyped up on love and adrenaline.  They can't wait to get to the cast party.  With only thoughts of partying filling their teenaged minds, they leave a disgusting trail of used tissues, sweaty clothes and half eaten food in the dressing rooms for us to clean up - but not tonight.  Tonight we party. 

We arrive at the Sandoukis' household (our generous party hosts) just as a police cruiser pulls up - the true sign of a successful cast party.  A group of parents magically appear to greet law enforcement.  I'm too hungry to care and head straight to the hot buffet.

It's now well after midnight and I have to be at work bright and early the next day.  I can catch a nap at my computer.

Note to self: take the Monday after camp off next year.

'Cause I'm a blonde, yeah, yeah, yeah...

I just want to say that being chosen as this month's Miss August is

like a compliment I'll remember for as long as I can.

Right now I'm a freshman in my fourth year at UCLA but my goal is

to become a veterinarian cause I love children.

‘Cause I'm a blonde yeah, yeah, yeah,

‘Cause I'm a blonde yeah, yeah, yeah
- Julie Brown

Since this summer was all about the blonde, I decided to post these lyrics from one of my favorite movie musical guilty pleasures of the 80s, Earth Girls Are Easy, starring…wait for it…Geena Davis, Jeff Goldblum, Jim Carrey and Damon Wayans.  Pretty impressive, huh?  Well, they must all have been seriously hard up for cash or in deep doo-doo with their dealers to sign off on this script, because this movie is a big ol’ train wreck.  But what a beautiful, hilarious and tacky train wreck it is!  Check it out some night if you’re bored.  It’s extra entertaining if your drunk or otherwise “impaired.”    



Angie Sandoukas as Elle Woods in Pineda Conservatory's Legally Blonde

Anyway, back to the blonde at hand, Legally Blonde, which ended our 2012 summer conservatory season.  Last year’s jet-setting across Europe prevented me from choreographing during last summer’s session.  So I was a bit rusty when it came to the fancy footwork needed for LB’s contemporary pop score (not to mention carrying a good 15 pounds of extra jiggle around the middle).

I’m not exactly a hip-hop master, so I hit up some of my old dance cronies (aka youtube) to freshen up on how the young ‘ns are breaking it down these days. Seriously, you can learn anything from youtube.  Of course, since most of the dancing in Legally Blonde involves slutty, whore-ish sorority girls, a more appropriate course of action might have been to take a pole dancing class at Crunch.  But since our underage cast would likely be shaking their groove thangs in front of their horrified fathers, I decided to tone it down a notch - but just a tiny notch.

Imagine little old me teaching 15 year olds how to pelvic thrust, gyrate and open-thigh squat in rhythm.  Okay, I guess it’s really not that hard to imagine if you’ve known me for more than five minutes.  But it was still slightly uncomfortable teaching our sweet little 9^th grade girls how to get nasty.  We all gotta’ learn sometime.

More surprising (and encouraging) to me was how unfazed the kids were with all the gay references in the script.  It’s telling when two straight teenage boys have no problem with a gay kiss, but their parents do.  Maybe we are finally evolving as a species.  Or maybe not.  You decide based on these photos from Disney Dress-up Day at camp.

RyRy & Malika are Mickey & Mini

Marisa is a princess

Fausto's a fairy - no comments, please.

I need a vacation from my vacation (part deux)

Click here for part une

Week two (July 23):
The air conditioning is finally working.  Huzzah!  You’d think the kids would be jubilant.  Nope.  Now the kids complain that it’s too cold in the theatre.  Too cold?  Well then, bring a sweater, Mr. Whiny McChillypants. 

The week begins with more Legally Blonde slutty choreography, but I also get a chance to team-direct the big act two ensemble scenes with Juan.  I keep telling the kids to “act as they would in real life” but forget that they are only teenagers and “real life” consists of going to the mall and updating their facebook statuses.

During breaks from choreographing and directing, I start faux-finishing wooden flats to resemble brick that will eventually replicate the famous gates of Harvard University.  I don’t know why I’m so concerned with verisimilitude given the fact that even if the gates are an exact match, no one in our audience will know the difference.

The real Harvard Gate and...

...our imposter gate.

Lunch everyday is a frozen pre-packaged grilled chicken sandwich heated up in the microwave because we don’t have time to leave the theatre to get anything else.  I try to convince myself that I’m eating healthy, but the texture of the processed chicken patty makes me wonder what parts of the chicken I’m actually eating.

We (the Pinedas) stay at the theatre well after classes finish for our daily exercise routine - picking up discarded water bottles, nasty candy wrappers and crushed goldfish crackers off the floor.  Think of a teenager’s closet.  Now multiply that by 100 children.  Did I mention there’s no janitor?  Well, technically there’s a sweet, 90-year-old Italian guy named “Gus” who does a perfunctory sweep-and-mop a couple times a week.  I love him, but he’s not exactly Mr. Clean.

After our "workout" it's back to set construction and painting.  As the week progresses, we are constantly cutting set pieces from our build list as we decide they are not truly necessary.  In actuality, we’re usually just too tired or realize there is no way in hell we’ll finish everything in time.

Since the beginning of camp, the high schoolers have been rehearsing two shows simultaneously.  Their first show opens this week and they are noticeably anxious and slightly panicky.  We are constantly adding and changing blocking and choreography as we start run-throughs of the cabaret show.  I'm in the pit with Trish who's conducting, wearing hat number three, pit musician.

The mad summer show-opening marathon is about to begin.  It's Thursday night and after a full day of classes we open Let’s Go to the Movies.  All goes remarkably well considering the short rehearsal period and general inexperience of the cast.  There are no major train wrecks, just a few minor derailments - an occasional wide-eyed look of panic and a brain fart or two.  But we make it to curtain call without any broken bones and with the show clocking in at under two hours.  I’d call that a major success.

The next day we continue rehearsing Legally Blonde but also tweak some of last night's problem spots.  In true Pineda fashion, one of the "minor" tweaks includes re-choreographing an entire number. 

That same night, we present the new-ish and improved Let’s Go to the Movies 2.0.  After the final bows, we herd the audience out of theatre so we can tear down and start setting the stage for the next production, Disney’s Cinderella Kids (contractually, I'm required to spell out the whole damn title) which opens the next afternoon.  As Juan and team begin the arduous task of taking the backdrop down from the cabaret show, I’m frantically trying to finish painting an eight-foot tall carriage for Cinderella that will be onstage for approximately one minute.  After midnight, we head home, exhausted.

We’re at the theatre bright and early the next morning so Trish and Val can do last minute alterations to costumes and Juan can reset the mic plot from last night’s show.  I’m sitting on the dressing room floor painting a carriage wheel because I was too tired to finish it the night before.  Fingers crossed that it will be dry by show time.

The young cast arrives (grade 2-6) around noon for their two-show day.  The dressing room is soon filled with 9-year-old divas complaining about their hair and make-up.  I’m sure there’s a reality TV show in store for at least one or two of these girls’ futures.

We make it to the end of the day without any major mishaps, just a cameo appearance by me to drag off a forgotten set piece and the temporary misplacement of the pumpkin prop during the first show.  Luckily, a basketball from our third upcoming production, Disney’s High School Musical Jr., is handy and makes a fine understudy pumpkin.  The children are happy.  The parents are happy.  We’re tired.

We start striking the Cinderella set to make room for High School Musical which opens in three days.

Click here for part trois

I need a vacation from my vacation (part une)

Since getting back to my day job last week I've been bombarded with the same annoying question, "How did you enjoy your vacation?"  Of course, my vacation really isn’t a vacation at all.  It’s just me working somewhere else for three weeks.

Usually, I just explain that I take time off to work at a camp for teenagers that my family runs in New Jersey.  That usually puts an end to the conversation.  More often than not, the confused party skedaddles off pretty quickly with a polite smile and a confused, “Oh, that sounds fun.”

Technically, I am using my vacation time.  But working 10-hour days with a hundred kids in an enclosed space the size of a 7-Eleven isn’t exactly most people’s idea of “fun.”

After years of explaining, I can now easily identify that pleasant, feigned expression of interest on my co-workers' faces.  Nobody really wants to hear about my camp adventures. They want to know about how drunk I got on the beach or how beautiful the Eiffel Tower looks at sunset. 

So for all of you office drones who think working at a theatre camp sounds so “fun,” this is what goes on during my three weeks of "vacation."

Week One (July 16): 
Camp has already been in full swing for two weeks.  I join mid-stream, the week before our first show opens - Let’s Go To The Movies! - a cabaret/variety show written and compiled specifically for the kids who didn’t get cast in lead roles in Legally Blonde. 

I begin the painstaking and slightly creepy task of teaching slutty choreography to the teenage cast of Legally Blonde.  Between booty shakes and thrusting, Juan and Val give me the low-down on all the set and detail painting I’ll need to accomplish in the next few weeks for all four of our summer shows.  With zero budget for extra tech staff, I have gained the title of "Head Scenic Painter" for the summer in addition to my choreographic duties.

In another money-saving move, we have purposely chosen shows set in the present time to avoid renting costumes.  Instead, we send the children home to dig through their closets for usable items.  As a result, throughout the week children intermittently approach us wondering if the tiny kitchen dishrag they refer to as a "skirt" is an appropriate length for the stage.  When did teenagers start dressing like prostitutes?

The electricians are still installing our new air conditioning, so we are working in a cement box without ventilation and temperatures topping 90 degrees.  Sound fun yet?

Click here for part deux

Bi-polar Show Disorder

Legally Blonde and Carousel - could there be two shows any more stylistically different?  Between ongoing Carousel rehearsals for CDC and Legally Blonde auditions for our summer program, I've been experiencing a serious case of choreographic whiplash.  In the span of just a few hours this weekend, I went from the booty-licious rump-shaking of hormonal co-eds, to the repressed sexuality of turn of the century New England lads and lasses.  And if you're not sure which description belongs to which show, then you probably ended up on my blog by some strange googling accident and should stop reading before you catch "the gay."

We've already sat through four audition days for Legally Blonde and the competition is getting crazy.  I haven't seen so much pink hoochiness-in-heels since my Senior Prom in '88.  I realize these young ladies are just trying to dress the part, but somehow they've gotten the idea that the character of Elle Woods is a slutty whore.  Yes, she's clearly not a virgin, but it's also made clear that she's monogamous as well as rich and trendy.  Many of the young ladies we've seen thus far seem to be auditioning for Pretty Woman - The Musical (Alan Menken or Stephen Flaherty, please jump on this idea).

Carousel is shaping up to be quite a wonderful show - if I ever finish choreographing it.  I'm actually on par with my usual mid-rehearsal slump.  I usually need the pressure of the clock to get my artistic juices jump started again.  Hopefully, we won't have a repeat of my infamous unfinished dance number from the last time I choreographed Carousel, where I completed the number at the half hour call prior to the opening night curtain.  Good times.

Welcome home...

I just wanted to share this festive photo of our PCPA alums in the dressing room at our recent Holiday Spectacular.  Aren't they gorgeous? 

How is it they keep getting older while I stay remarkably young and beautiful?  No comment, please.

Thanks to Jen Dilzell (third from right) for the photo I unceremoniously stole from her facebook page.  Love ya', mean it!

The most wonderful time of the year (?)...

Finally, I can take a break for a couple of weeks - no students, no rehearsals and no performances - just my regular 9 to 5 stint.  I wonder how many other people consider their forty-hour a week day-job a “break”?  Likely very few, methinks. 

Opening "Be Our Guest" w/ Trish as Mrs. Potts and me as
Lumiere

With the smashing success of our fourth annual Very Merry Pineda Holiday Spectacular (try to and say that quickly ten times), the Pinedas wrapped up another ridiculously busy year.  Within the span of two weeks, we put together three different shows - our successful, but somewhat aggravating production of Pirates by our Young Artists, the Musical Theatre Class Showcase and the Holiday Spectacular. 

Per usual, turnover time between shows was quick.  Minutes after we had laboriously crammed the Pirates backdrop into its cardboard shipping box following the final Sunday matinee, conservatory students and alumni began showing up at the theatre waiting to fill the stage with holiday merriment.  Their youthful enthusiasm quickly devolved into the wide-eyed confusion I’ve come to associate with the intake of too much information coupled with too little rehearsal time.

I think the Pineda Conservatory motto should be changed from “…where dreams take center stage” to “divide and conquer,” as this seems to be our go-to rehearsal philosophy.  Val teaches a song to a dozen eight-year-olds in the upper lobby, Juan blocks a scene in the lower lobby with a couple teenagers and I try to choreograph a dance number (with half the dancers missing) on the stage and violá - instant show! 

I came into the rehearsal process for the musical theatre showcase fairly late in the game - nine hours before the game, to be exact.  After Friday night’s Spectacular rehearsal, Juan asked if I would be the accompanist for the showcase, scheduled for the next night.  I, of course, said “yes.”  I had to be in Jersey all weekend for Spectacular rehearsals anyway.  What’s another show added into the mix?

So forsaking my coveted Saturday morning sleep-in time, I joined Juan and Val the next morning for more rehearsal, this time with the middle school musical theatre students.  For the showcase, the students picked their own songs and wrote original monologues leading into their songs. 

Apparently, there’s a shortage of prozac in the Central Jersey area.  Each depressing, angst-filled monologue was followed by another even more depressing, angst-filled monologue involving the death of mom, dad or both parents.  Pets and siblings managed to survive this fictional familial massacre unscathed.  This is probably how that town in Children of the Corn started out.



Juan's Cogsworth & Val finally a princess, Belle.



Later that afternoon - after a 3-hour Spectacular rehearsal, natch - the depressed middle schoolers returned, joined by the elementary school students, for a final run-through before that evening’s showcase.  The elementary school students were a bit of mess, but at least had the cute factor working in their favor. 

I have a personal theory about student performances - I think parents enjoy a student performance more if there is at least one train wreck.  Of course, I have no empirical evidence to support this theory and I wouldn’t recommend “planting” a clusterf*ck in a show on purpose, but parents seem to view pitch and rhythm-challenged toddlers as “cute.”  Give ‘em a perfect performance by a stage full of elementary schoolers? Well, that’s a snoozer.  A ditzy eight-year-old accidentally leading a whole line of kids off the stage into the pit?  Brava!



Despite a rough run-through and me having only received the music a few hours earlier, the performance went rather smoothly - no major jumped measures or forgotten cues and no pit fatalities.  Juan even managed to get one student to amend her monologue from “dead dad” to “dad hurt in a terrible accident.”  You have to pick your battles.

The next day we had a final dress rehearsal for the Holiday Spectacular.  This is somewhat of a coup for the Conservatory, as we’ve never had the luxury of a full run-through of the holiday show prior to the actual performance.  In previous years, we’ve set a 6:30 PM call time and done a speed through before the performance in order to set tempos with the accompanist (who is usually sight-reading the music) and to figure out mic hand-offs.  All the while, the cast is usually trickling in late.

This year, we had the fantastic Tony Bellomy at the piano.  He’s played rehearsals for our opera company in the past and is always a favorite with the singers.  Having him in the pit allayed at least some of our musical fears. 

Just the boys.

Though it took the entire four-hour rehearsal, we managed to get through every number except one - the elf number that Chris, Dan (see side bar) and I worked up.  Or rather, hadn’t worked up.  Let me give you some background info -

Last year at the speed through, about two hours before the performance, Val threw Chris and Dan into half a dozen numbers with no warning and little rehearsal.  Based on Chris’ complaints, I advised Val not to block Chris or Dan into any numbers in which they couldn’t rehearse, which, of course left nothing for them but our trio.  Fast forward to about a week before this year’s concert.  Chris asked me what he needed to learn for the concert.  I said, “Just our trio.  Since you were so annoyed by the last minute rehearsals last year, I told Val not to put you in any numbers that you couldn’t rehearse in advance.”  To which Chris replied, “I never said that.”  And curtain.

Luckily, the three of us have been friends for so long that minor squabbles like this rarely affect our friendship.  We’re probably more civil to each other than most married couples.

Chris and Dan are the only people I know whose schedules are as eff-ed up as mine, so the only time all three of us were available to rehearse our trio was the night before the show.  That meant we'd have to bang out a quick run-through with Tony just before half-hour call on the night of the Spectacular.  No sweat, right?  Except Chris wrote a pre-song scene that included Santa (one of our lovely Conservatory parents, but not really an actor) and a gaggle of elementary school students, not to mention a set change and full costume change for me (from a sexy Mrs. Claus to an elf with shoes taped to my knees).  Nothing like winging it on performance night with a nervous Santa and a bunch of eight-year-olds. 

Unfortunately, by Monday my brain’s short-term memory was already filled to capacity with holiday lyrics and blocking.  So when I met Chris and Dan for rehearsal at their apartment, I was a hot mess.  I could tell by Chris’ overly calm demeanor that he was in full panic mode over my lack of preparedness.  I assured him that I’d have my lines and blocking down pat by performance time, though in actuality, I wasn’t really sure I would.  Sometimes, lying is the right thing to do. 

Well, all our worrying was for naught.  We had a full house of appreciative parents and friends who didn’t even seem to notice all the f*ck ups.  Or at least they kept it to themselves if they did.  And I think I got about 90% of my lyrics and blocking correct - pretty good for a performance with virtually no rehearsal, not so much for a brain surgeon. 

Sure, we had the inevitable missed cues and a few suspect harmonies, but given the fact we had just barely gotten through the show once - two days ago - the evening was relatively catastrophe free.  My sexy Mrs. Claus version of “Steam Heat” was a hit, as was our (Chris, Dan and me) last minute, nearly rehearsal-less elf version of “Hard Candy Christmas.”

The opening mash-up of “The Most Wonderful Time of the Year” and “Be Our Guest” from Beauty and the Beast was also a crowd pleaser, and probably the only time in my life I’ll ever don Lumiere’s famous candlestick costume. 

The best part of the evening?  Chowing down on brownies and cookies after the performance.

Juan, Val, Trish and I have already started planning for next year's Spectacular and I have just two words for you - wooden soldiers.  Be afraid.  Be very afraid.

Ta-ran-ta-ra, Ta-ran-ta-ra OR the sound of my slowly dying artistic soul

Well, Pirates has come and gone - four shows with four different combinations of leading players.  All things considered, the shows came off quite well.  Unfortunately, we didn’t get the audience turn out we were hoping for, though the smaller audiences were surprisingly vocal and enthusiastic.

Sadly, like rehearsals, the performances were marred by a fair amount of line flubs and outright omissions (other than the official cuts we made during rehearsals).  I’d say the average line accuracy rate was about 75% - which, if we were going by school grading, isn’t horrible.  Though I don’t know many students who would be bragging about a “C.”  Hell, I’m usually suspicious of any restaurant in the city that gets even a “B” rating.

There was some exceptional singing, though, and it was a pleasure to hear many of our younger performers finally take center stage after years of paying their dues in the chorus.  

And our hard-working ensemble deserves some love, too.  They filled four shows with unflagging energy and enthusiasm that almost made up for some of the butchered dialogue.

The bottom line, I guess, is that audiences enjoyed the shows and for the most part, actors covered flubs well enough that the audiences were oblivious.  It would be an interesting experiment to use English supertitles for English shows (like they do at the Met) so that the cast would be forced to at least make an effort at accuracy.

I sound like such a negative Nellie, don’t I?  Don’t get me wrong, I want the kids to have a good show and have enthusiastic audience responses.  But at the same time, if students continually receive critical accolades from audiences for their semi-improvised, unprepared performances, why would a student bother to strive to do any better? 

I guess I take things too personally.  I should just stop worrying about it because the undue stress and aggravation just wears away at my already dying artistic soul. 

Or maybe it’s time to retire.  Or find different students.  Or just have a stiff drink.

Rehearsal hell

My inner monologue (minus the heels)
after this weekend's rehearsals.

Good thing I was able to cram in some quality drinking time before the weekend, because Pirates hell began Friday night with rehearsals for our Young Artists’ production.  Thankfully, I was spared the longer rehearsal period because Juan and Val opted to take the lead on this production.  I needed some much-deserved R&R after idiotically volunteering to direct and choreograph both of last season’s operas, La Traviata and The Bat.  It seemed like a fun idea at the time - at least until around the fifth or sixth weekend of reverse commuting to NJ for rehearsals.  Will I ever learn?  I doubt it.

For this highly abridged version of Pirates of Penzance, I was relegated to accompanying and conducting the “orchestra” - that is, if you consider an out-of-tune piano and a violin an “orchestra.”  But we sounded lovely anyway, thank you very much.  Remember, it’s about quality, dear readers, not quantity.



You’d think the weekend before opening - not to mention after several weeks of rehearsals - the cast would at least have a perfunctory knowledge of the script and score.  I thought wrong.  I won’t name names in order to protect the ignorant, um, I mean innocent, but this has got to be the worst prepared cast we’ve had in the history of our ten-plus years of producing opera. 

Rehearsals started in October.  How is it possible not to know your lines and music after two months of rehearsal?  Even worse, then have the nerve to giggle about it onstage while giving us a half-assed apology.  Back in ancient times, when I was performing in regional summer stock, we would mount five full-length shows in six weeks.  Granted, some of the shows sucked, but we at least knew our lines and blocking.



Maybe I’m being a bit harsh, but then I think of our Major General.  She learned all her lines plus an extremely difficult patter song in two weeks (the original actor dropped out of the show unexpectedly).

Sometimes I get the feeling our kids - not all, but some - don’t really care about the show.  They just want to be front and center.  They want the accolades but don’t want to put in the effort to earn them.  To those few, I say “good luck” with that philosophy in the real world.  To the rest, I say “thank you” for putting up with the posers and for having to sit through our yelling and screaming and scolding.



And people wonder why we’re always so irritable right before a show opens.

Rant over - until next rehearsal.

I'm back!

12 performances of 5 different shows in 11 days with 100 teenagers - what kind of idiots came up with that preposterous schedule?  Why, the Pinedas, of course (at left making sure those Zangler Follies wigs for Crazy For You fit just right)!  We’re not exactly known for sticking to the status quo.  Some might even say we’re prone to unrealistic expectation (I’d say more like wishful thinking).  All I know is that I’m worn out and relieved to be back to my “real” job where I can relax at my desk and browse Amazon.com and eBay for rare musical theatre ephemera.  Could I be any gayer?  That was rhetorical.

You may have noticed the sound of crickets on my blog over the last two weeks, but I’ve been a little busy.  Our fourth Summer Conservatory program ended Sunday night with our final performance of Crazy For You by our high school Center Stage program.  To say I was stressed out would be a massive understatement.  Scenes were being blocked and re-blocked the day before our final dress rehearsal, one student didn’t know one of his second act solos (in fact, he didn’t even know he sang it in the show) three days before opening, there were daily choreography changes, props and set pieces didn’t appear until half-hour before the opening matinee and…well, you get the picture. 

Not that this summer is really any different than any other summer (or any Pineda production for that matter), except that I’m now treading terrifyingly close to “old fart” territory.  Fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants theatre should really only be attempted by twenty-somethings who still find this brand of guerrilla theatre thrilling.  Me?  I'll take my Equity break schedule and cot (see line (C)(8) in link), thank you very much.

Herewith is my list of this summer’s camp highlights (and lowlights):

• Fine Dining - This summer we were blessed with a handful of wonderful parents who supplemented our regular summer diet of donuts, coffee and leftover concessions with real food.  Mama Love's lemon chicken is da bomb!  Delish.
• Tropical Conditions - What the hell is up with the weather?  Some days it felt like we were working in a sweat shop in Calcutta.  For those of you who don’t know, we work and rehearse in an un-air-conditioned theatre and the temperatures this summer regularly pushed past 100 degrees.  Good times.  Val did purchase an industrial-sized “air cooling” unit that managed to cool the theatre down to a chilly 90 degrees. 
• General Laziness - some of our high school students literally didn’t know their lines or music just days before opening night.  Seriously?  We had scripts and scores available to these students (I won’t call them actors because that would be an insult to the profession) a month before rehearsals started and then in some cases, an additional four weeks of rehearsals.  One excuse I heard - “I learn on my feet.”  Bullshit.  That’s just a creative way of saying, “I’m too fucking lazy to learn the lines on my own.” 
• Slip of the Tongue - Juan, tired from a late night at the theatre accidentally ordered a "sausage egg and shit on a biscuit" for breakfast one morning at the McDonald's drive-thru and then couldn't figure out why Val, Trish and I were crying with laughter.
• Spotlight Program - I love our middle school kids this year.  They were always polite, prepared and friendly.  I even got recognized at their closing night “thank-you’s” and I didn’t even work on their show.  Well, actually I painted one set piece, but that was hardly worth a bouquet of flowers. 
• George Gershwin - “I Got Rhythm”, “Someone to Watch Over Me”, “Embraceable You”, “Nice Work if You Can Get It”, “I Can’t Be Bothered Now” - ‘nuff said?
• Sickness - Cast members were dropping like flies.  It seemed like everyone was sick sometime during the five weeks.  In one extreme case, the middle school student playing Mayzie in Seussical found herself voiceless before the matinee so our summer college intern sung and spoke the dialogue on mic from the pit while the poor girl lip-synched and walked through the blocking on stage. 
• Hook-ups - Stick 30 hormone-deranged teenagers in a confined space for five hours a day and you're bound for some hot gossip, right?  Wrong.  This summer was uncharacteristically tame (aside from a few rumored make-out sessions) with nary the whiff of a showmance.  Not to mention not a single boy (or girl) ventured out of the closet either.  Sad.  I'll have to check the accuracy of my spies, though, because someone's got to be spreading all those germs (see "Sickness" above). 

Of course, there were also the usual screaming matches between various Pinedas and staff over the stupidest production details, binge-eating and late night trips through the McDonald's drive-thru (they seriously need to consider offering a 50 piece chicken nugget box and bucket o' fries), emergency runs to Target for forgotten props and set-dressing and sleepless nights spent at the CDC turning over the sets for each new production.  But it's just as well, since a Pineda production without loads of drama off-stage would likely signal the end of days.

The Bat flies away and a western town is born

Despite two pathetically bad final dress rehearsals, one for each of the casts, the weekend performances of The Bat were surprisingly quite good.  Although I’d never want the opera company to present a bad show, it would perhaps teach the kids a lesson if their inconsistent commitment and sometimes lazy work ethic wasn’t rewarded with a great performance.  I know what you’re thinking - damn, Fausto, that’s some harsh shit.  Maybe.  But talk to me after you've had to re-block the same scene five times because no one bothered to write down their blocking. 

Of course, I’m also generalizing.  Several cast members consistently arrived at rehearsals prepared and committed to the process.  But how do you convince young performers that their work outside of the rehearsal hall is so vital to the success of a performance when they’ve seemingly put on a successful performance without this “vital” preparation?  I always find myself telling a cast, “Think of how much better the show would have been if you’d put in more effort during rehearsals.”  This never works.  All they remember is the enthusiastic audience ovation and a sea of smiling faces, most of whom are family and friends.  I know, still harsh, but I just keeping it real.

Or maybe my standards are too high?  I know most of these kids aren’t looking to become Broadway stars.  They just want to have some fun with their friends while padding their college applications.  I get it - sort of.  Maybe it’s just me, but I don’t understand why you’d bother committing to something - be it theatre or a sport or even knitting - and not strive to do your best.  Granted, I was a total nerd in high school, so maybe I just don’t understand the psychology of the “average” teenager because I never was one.

Oh well, maybe things will change next year.  And maybe the Mets will win the World Series.  And yes, Fausto actually just made a sports analogy!  So I guess anything is possible.

It’s now become a tradition to spend the day after the last opera performance building the sets for the upcoming summer season.  Tired and grumpy, Val and I hauled our asses out of bed early Sunday morning and headed to the Home Depot for paint and supplies before heading over to the theatre.  With a McDonald's breakfast wreaking havoc on my digestive system (but totally worth it), I began to transform the side stages into a dingy old west hotel room and the stage door of an old theatre for our Center Stage production of Crazy for You.

I don’t purport to be a scenic painter, but I did a pretty damn good job, thank you very much.  My only regret is agreeing to paint a faux brick effect on one of the side stages.  It looks fantastic, but took hours to complete.  There better be a lot of scenes taking place on that side stage.  I'm just sayin'. 

To save some money, not to mention hours of construction time, we decided to re-purpose the rolling flats from CDC's last production, Gypsy.  Just a fresh coat of paint and few cosmetic touches and violà - instant western town. 

That's funny, I don't feel a day over 40...

Thanks to incredible luck and a hell of a gene pool, I've never been one to shy away from revealing my true age.  When you're still mistaken for 30, it's sort of fun to see those surprised looks of envy and loathing. 

41 is such a boring birthday.  I mean, it doesn't really signify anything and it's such a big let down after "the big four-oh."  To compensate for its numerical insignificance, I decided to stretch the celebration through the weekend.  If there would be no pomp and circumstance, at least I could score a string of free meals. 

Since Thursday was a school night, we decided to postpone the real Birthday festivities for the weekend.  So on my actual birthday, April 14, I decided to be totally nasty and asked Trish to treat me to Papa John's.  Sure, a spicy Italian meats pizza with four different cheeses tastes good going down but it's not so friendly on the way out, if you know what I mean.  And being lactose intolerant, of course I couldn't end the meal without a big slice of - you guessed it - ice cream cake. 

Of course, no Birthday celebration would be complete without some kind of rehearsal, so I had to haul ass down to Jersey after work to spend my Friday night with a bunch of rowdy teenagers at Die Fledermaus rehearsal.  Fun. 

Continuing with the Italian theme, before heading back to Queens on Saturday afternoon Juan and Val took me out to The Olive Garden.  Don't judge.  I mean, who doesn't like endless salad and bread sticks? 

For Sunday brunch, Trish and I met Chris and Dan at The Astor Room, just a few blocks away from us on 36th Avenue.  It's a new restaurant underneath Kaufman-Astoria studios.  The atmosphere is really cool and laid back with a speakeasy vibe (a jazz trio added some authentic ambiance).  The food was better than average but the portions were a bit on the puny side.  I guess they made up for it with the free mimosa or bloody mary included with each meal. 

For dessert, we opted for blood and guts, catching a matinee of Scream 4.  The opening bit is hilarious and extremely clever, but after that it's your standard slasher flick.  Not that I'm complaining.  I love a good disembowlment.  The most exciting part of the movie? - the mini corn dogs.  Did I mention the portions at The Astor Room are on the small side?  Oh, and we also smuggled in my best Birthday gift yet, courtesy of Dan, a bag of Doughnut Plant doughnuts - glazed-covered orgasms in a bag. 

Audition hell

Our Summer Conservatory production of Crazy for You basically cast itself.  How?  Well, when you pick a tap show requiring incredible triple threat high school performers for all roles, the casting options are understandably limited.  The Pineda Four (me, Juan, Val and Trish) plus the always cheery Señor Chris and Mr. Dan held our last round of auditions and callbacks this past weekend in a marathon two-day session. 

I was actually surprised at the number of girls with serious dance training and not just eight years of jazz from Miss Nancy’s School of Dance* and Pageant Training (totally fictional, of course).  I say that now, after auditioning almost a decade’s worth of summer and community theatre shows where some girls list 5 years of jazz, 7 years of ballet and 6 years of tap training on their resume only to stare in horror when I ask them to chaine across the floor.  But that is a rant for another time. 

As always, there was no shortage of girls at the audition and we ended up with multiple choices for each role.  The boys? - not so much.  For those lucky enough to possess a penis, a role was virtually guaranteed due to the sheer number of male roles in the show. 

Unfortunately, Val’s plan to throw some gal’s into the ensemble in the Western scenes hit a slight snafu when she realized the script kept mentioning Polly as the only woman in the whole town.  Surely not a self-esteem builder for any young lady she might have chosen to add to these scenes.  And yes, Trish and I were aware of this fact when Val first brought the idea up, but knowing her mental state before the auditions (she’s currently also rehearsing two other shows), I thought it best she experience her own personal epiphany.  Besides, she was just so gung-ho about the idea, I couldn’t bear to be the one to burst her bubble. 

My favorite, and coincidentally most uncomfortable, audition moment occurred during the callbacks for Irene, the snobby socialite who eventually finds her inner Marilyn Monroe.  Señor Chris taught the girls a “sexy” chair dance to “Naughty Baby.”  Suffice it to say, I foresee some very lucrative careers ahead for some of these ladies at Flashdancers.

The offers have all gone out and we are now eagerly awaiting the inevitable angry, disappointed and/or tear-filled facebook statuses to follow.  It’s tough shattering the dreams of dozens of New Jersey teenagers. 

*Disclaimer:  Can you believe there is an actual Nancy’s School of Dance in D’Iberville, MS?!  I googled it out of curiosity shortly after completing this blog entry.  I’m sure the training there is impeccable.**

**Per my lawyer.  J 

My crazy dream and "Sweet Music"

Calling all amateur psychologists out there, tell me what's going on in my warped mind that would encourage the trippy dream I had last night. 

I was a character on "Glee" except we were in College, not High School.  The only character I can clearly remember was Mr. Schuester (aka Matthew Morrison) who was still a teacher, but for some reason also lived in the dorms with us.  He and some other dorm mates were making fun of me because I didn't want to join the ski team.  I can't remember the exact details anymore, but somehow I also had a "coming out" moment and Mr. Schuester was making fun of me for being gay.  It ended with me having dinner with Ellen DeGeneres and her wife, Portia, eating grilled meats and other assorted organs (I can clearly remember having a piece of grilled heart - gross, I know, but that's what I remember). 

I'm not exactly sure how it went from Mr. Scheuster's harassment to dinner with Ellen.  It's all foggy and I was trying to remember it as I was waking up but the more I concentrated on details, the more the images just floated out of my head.  I don't ski and I definitely have never eaten heart - well, not that I know of.  I do watch "Glee" and "Ellen," so I sort of get that connection, but the whole coming out thing doesn't really make sense to me considering I came out years ago and any hang-ups I had with that have long since been ironed out.  I also found it odd we were grilling meat since I know Ellen's vegan. 

Oh well, the only reason I mention it is because I usually forget my dreams by the time I've thrown my feet over the edge of the bed, so it's a unique treat when I can remember so many of the f*cked up details.

Speaking of f*cked up, this past Saturday, we (Juan, Val, Trish and I) put on one of our (in)famous thrown-together-at-the-last-minute concerts for the First United Methodist Church in Scotch Plains where Juan music directs.  We literally strung together a 90 minute concert in one rehearsal the night before the performance.  With three additional random guest performers and a crazy mix of pop songs, showtunes and Christian songs, we put together a program as eclectic as the passengers on a rush hour 7 train to Flushing.  Juan had actually warned us about the concert the week before, so I had at least already picked out two traditional songs since my go-to material can be somewhat risque for a Church-going crowd. Although same-sex love ballads and campy drag numbers bring the house down at more secular functions and venues, I sensed a more modest tone would be appropriate for the Methodists.  Know your audience, says I!

Since the church billed the evening as a concert and dessert reception (thus the concert's title, "Sweet Music"), I went with the food theme and chose the perennial favorite, "Sara Lee."  I did have a slight panic attack at the grocery store when I couldn't find a single Sara Lee item in the frozen food section to use as a prop for my song.  It seems Marie Callender and Stouffer's had pushed poor Sara into a lowly bottom corner of the freezer case. 

Glancing at our anemic set list late Friday night, Juan and I decided to throw together a duet version of "This is the Moment" (barf) from Jekyll & Hyde to fill out the evening and amp up the cheese factor.  Not to be outdone, Trish and Val countered with the equally cheesy, but in my opinion, better written and composed anthem "I Will Never Leave You" from Sideshow.  It's so sad that the loudest cheese always brings the biggest applause (sigh). 

Per usual, we didn't decide who would accompany which song until the night before either.  So we were kind of winging it at the concert.  Given that Dane, who was scheduled to accompany a couple of the numbers, didn't realize we had a Friday night rehearsal and that our regular drummer, Dan, showed up two hours before the concert and was winging it sans music, the concert ended up going pretty damn smoothly.  In the end, it was all just an excuse to donate money and scarf empty calories in the name of God, so I think everyone had a good time.  When there's a chocolate fountain involved, no one cares what you're singing anyway.