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.

Ass pirates

I can’t believe we (just barely) pulled Pirates out of our asses. Not literally, of course. That would be quite difficult and painful (and very messy). Our stage manager, Sharon, gave an admirable performance as the Pirate King, given that she had half a run-through and less than 24 hours notice to fill in for our indisposed actor. All in all, she acquitted herself quite nicely. Of course, there was some highly creative improvised dialogue, and much of it from actors who had actual rehearsal time and should have known better, but that’s a whole 'nother can of worms that I don’t wish to crack open and smear on anybody’s reputation, especially some high school kid. Since I’ve learned that it’s not just my sister and I that read my blog, in order to protect the innocent I’ll have to desist naming names - at least if they’re under age. But watch out biyatches, once you’re over 21, you’re asses are fair game. Anyway, it was hard to keep track of who was playing what role in any given show since so many people were double cast, sick or just plain clueless on stage. I just sat in the pit minding my own business and conducting the orchestra, and by orchestra I mean me at the piano and Trish turning pages.

The best part of the 3-day run? Having dinner and getting ice cream between Saturday shows with my nominee for “Hot Jersey Mom,” Anita Napoli. No, there is no such award, and yes, I’m gayer than springtime (poor Oscar could never have foreseen his lyrics used in this context), but I know a hot mom when I see one. Lest I get hate mail for playing favorites, we did not plan to have dinner with Anita and her daughter Gabby, we just coincidentally ended up going to the same restaurant (a lovely Thai fusion place, Avenue East). In all honesty, Trish, Juan, Val and I tried to find a restaurant off the beaten path in order to avoid any additional contact with the cast and parents. Not that we don’t love our kids (now the parents - at least some parents - well, that’s a different matter. Mama Rose anyone?), but sanity must be preserved in these days of show overload. Next week, is the opera company’s garage sale fundraiser and the following week is the graduating senior’s cabaret show. Then we’ll finally get two weeks to recuperate before we start all over again with Les Mis.

Some of our lovely Young Artists backstage at Pirates (Kristen Caruana, Kaitlyn Mills and Katy Cockrell).

Going down with the ship

Our production of Pirates is definitely cursed. Peter, Greg and Bobby please return the tiki to the ancient Hawaiian burial ground ASAP (anyone? if you guessed Brady Bunch Hawaii triple episode, season 4, you're a bigger loser than I am)! Anyway, following some nightmare casting (both Fredericks dropped out of the show 2 weeks before opening) and opening week falling directly before a holiday weekend so we couldn't rehearse, we have been served yet another ridiculous obstacle. Midway through the first act of last night's final dress, the Pirate King fell deathly ill and had to be rushed to the hospital. Of course, it just so happens that this is the only role that we DID NOT assign an understudy or double cast. We jokingly threw our stage manager onstage on book to fill in thinking our PK was just suffering from intense pre-opening jitters. Our stage manager is about five foot tall, somewhat portly, well over the age of 40 AND a woman (but a lovely, kind soul). Did I mention that this is a student production? Anyway, although she is an immensely talented performer in her own right, something about watching a middle aged woman in pirate drag cavorting onstage with a bunch of teenagers is just slightly disturbing. Anyway, turns out that the PK caught an intense virus and can't go on tonight - OPENING NIGHT! Oh well. The show must go on and tonight will be no exception. All my fingers (and toes) will be crossed and hoping for the best. Hopefully, by closing performance on Sunday afternoon, all will be well. I will most likely be drunk, if not slightly tipsy by then. Did I also happen to mention that I'm the orchestra? Just my ten fingers and an extremely out of tune piano. The indignity continues. Please come witness it this weekend while contributing to a worthy cause - my paycheck.

Is facebook a sign of Armageddon?

How am I expected to get any work done in the office when I have access to facebook on my computer? I mean, really, it's like digital crack. Soon enough, face-to-face social interaction will become obsolete. Instead, we'll communicate via sentence fragment on each other's walls. Very sad. Although I'm all for finding new ways to stay in touch with friends and family, is it really realistic or necessary to have 235 friends? Is it even possible to have 235 "friends"? Can you really define a "friend" as someone you have little or no communication with except for an occasional poke, or superpoke? Are we raising a generation of socially retarded kids who don't know how to hold an actual conversation in person? Oh dear, I'm getting a bit too philosophical here, but you get the idea.

Anyway, last night's first dress rehearsal for Pirates was, well, interesting, to say the least. Half the cast wasn't there because they had their High School chorus concert and the half that did show up only knew about 65% of their lyrics, lines and blocking. Tonight's final dress is going to be a doozy. At least they'll have four performances to get it together. I really can't wait until Sunday night. No rehearsals for anything until the end of June. I'm free! I'm free! I'm free! And I'll finally get my weekends back, at least for a couple of weeks.

Memorial Day = meat

Well, I’m back to the grind today after a successful weekend of holiday partying. And by successful, I mean ingesting the equivalent of my body weight in grilled pig and cow products. My one disappointment? - being unable to show a lonely fleet week sailor my special brand of NYC hospitality. Oh well, there’s always next year. Actually, I think the fleet’s still in town until tomorrow morning so that leaves me a couple of hours. I do enjoy a challenge.

Anyway, thanks to Peter & Ray and Damienne & Steve for inviting me to their respective rooftop barbecues and to my homeboy, God, for supplying such lovely weather. I can’t even believe I actually know people who have rooftop apartments, let alone who like me enough to invite me to their parties and let me meet their friends. Hello newly found self-esteem!

P&R’s party Saturday night was such a delight because there was nary an actor or performer in sight (ooh, that rhymes). It was such a relief not to have to answer the dreaded and annoying, “Are you doing anything right now?” I was actually able to hold full conversations without once mentioning an audition or callback or having to explain why Bernie Telsey hates me or why Audra is so fierce. And the food! Leave it to the gays to convert the lowly barbecue into a culinary extravaganza. Although I’m still not quite convinced about the watermelon and mint sprinkled with English salt.

The usual suspects were spotted at D&S’s rooftop on Monday. A party there is always welcome because you know the regulars will show up and you can just be your stupid self. I’ve known these characters since I moved into the city over a decade ago hanging out at the now defunct Le Beaujolais Restaurant - which is, coincidentally, the location of one of my worst alcoholic binges. I will always be indebted to Chris Johnson for cleaning up the puddles of puke on the restaurant floor where I laid clutching a silver champagne bucket, while Damienne (who owned the restaurant at the time) and the gang sat at the bar laughing at my misfortune. Ah, the memories. Anyway, the party actually did get more interesting, since the cast of The Lion King showed up because Steve happens to work at the Minskoff. How many people can say they got to taste Mochi’s lumpia? Alas, we weren’t able to get her to give us the skinny on the final episode of Step It Up and Dance. So I guess we’ll just have to watch the episode like everyone else this week. FYI - 30 years old? Really? If you say so, sweetie.

Chris and Betsy have promised to send me pics from the weekend’s festivities to post here, so you’ll see ‘em when I get ‘em.

Hmmm, what else? Oh, Trish and I caught the new Indiana Jones. It was thoroughly entertaining, if not extraordinary, and Shia was actually not as annoying as I thought he would be. Great special effects and interesting storyline, but Harrison sure is getting old. Aren’t we all? You’ll always be Han Solo to me.

LOC’s Young Artist production of Pirates of Penzance goes into tech week tomorrow. Should be extremely, extremely scary considering we’ve had maybe half a dozen rehearsals and we haven’t really run anything more than once. Pray for us.

O - K - L- A - H - oh shut the f*ck up already

We’re finally past the halfway point in our Oklahoma! run. Frankly, it seems like we’ve been working on it for years. Our opening night was a hit and despite my snarky jab at the reviewers, the notices have all been good. Not that it’s been smooth sailing. The mix of newbies and more experienced actors is definitely a difficult balance, especially when it comes to consistency of performance. We’re still giving notes and trying to make sure the show we directed continues to play intact throughout the run.

The good news is it seems the crowds are coming out in droves and closing weekend looks to be a sell out. My favorite overheard crowd comments:

“It actually was good!”

Perplexed old lady: “I’m so confused, did he just kill Curly?”
Old lady, audibly annoyed: “It’s a dream!”

Perplexed old lady: “What did she say?”
Annoyed old lady: “She said he’s Persian.”
Perplexed: “He’s WHAT?”
Annoyed: “PERSIAN! Sheesh.”

Serious old lady: “The orchestra sounded wonderful.”
Me: “Thank you.”
Serious: “You’re usually way too loud.”

How can I tell that Oklahoma! is finally nearing the end of its run? Because we’ve started rehearsals for our next production, Pirates of Penzance. Of course, a Pineda production would not be a Pineda production without at least a requisite major catastrophe. For Pirates, it’s the fact the both Frederick’s (we double cast the lead role) dropped out of the production at the same time leaving us high and dry just a few weeks shy of opening night. Luckily, we were able to convince our youthful looking Curly (a college Junior) to take on the role that he understudied earlier in the year in his college production. It’s still going to be a nail-biter, considering we’ll have just enough time for a basic block through before tech week. Fingers crossed.