Magic Flute Tech + Tonys = Ranting and Diarrhea

Pineda Lyric's The Magic Flute

What a difference a day makes.

Judging from the Magic Flute dress rehearsals on Thursday and Friday nights, it seemed we were doomed to a very long and painful day of Saturday performances.  From the made-up blocking and dialogue, missed cues and general cluelessness displayed on stage, a few members of our teenage cast seemed to genuinely lack a sense of urgency or responsibility.  Very disconcerting for the producing team considering that in a day or so a paying audience would be witness to this mess.

Of course, I'm only talking about a few duds sprinkled amongst a mainly conscientious cast of young people.  But hey, it only takes a little spot of fuzzy green mold to ruin the whole wheel of cheese, right?

Fast forward less than 24 hours to the matinee performance and all of a sudden, voilà, we have a show!  Not that the made-up blocking was magically fixed and the dialogue learned.  That would have been a true miracle in the Biblical sense.  But the kids were finally performing, and at the very least committing strongly to their (often wrong) choices.

I'm definitely not advocating this type of preparation - or rather lack of preparation - as a viable option for a performer.  But it sure beats the agony of witnessing long stretches of uncomfortable silence between two dumbstruck actors on stage, an acting "technique" we witnessed dozens of times (not an exaggeration) during both dress rehearsals.

Sigh.

Is it awful to wish that just once, these ill prepared youngsters would crash and burn during a performance?  If these same young people always succeed with a wonderful - if inaccurate and completely improvised - performance, doesn't it just refute everything we're trying to teach them about the work and preparation required for success?  Isn't it better for them to fail now when the consequences are minimal rather than when it's their first big work/college project?  If a train chugging at 40 mph leaves Sante Fe at 4:00 PM...oh, never mind.

I guess it just rubs me the wrong way to congratulate a young person who, from the audience's perspective, has given a wonderful performance even though that performance was pretty much based on luck and improvisation.  Oh well, I guess that's what blogs are for - bitching and moaning about things you can't really change.

Speaking of bitches, did ya'll catch the Tony Awards?  I guess that's rhetorical considering my audience.  I have to say, I'm somewhat surprised that this year's Tony voters decided to base their decisions on merit rather than popularity.  How else do you explain Billy Porter's win over Bertie Carvel, Tracy Letts' win over Tom Hanks, Vanya's win over Lucky Guy, Kinky's win over Matilda...Not complaining, but it's a nice change.

That opening number was pretty damn impressive as well.  Just thinking about coordinating the rehearsals for that 7 minutes of lunacy gives me a slight case of diarrhea.  And that "Kiss LA Good-bye" parody had just enough queeny schtick for the gays while supplying enough pushed-up cleavage to appease the eight straight dudes watching.

Of course, my favorite moment was Audra's so-wrong-it's-right rendition of Alicia Keys' "Empire State of Mind" and then dropping her mic, gangsta' style.  That bitch crazy.  Can't wait to see how NPH tops this next year.

(More pictures of the 2013 Young Artist production of Mozart's The Magic Flute here.)

"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."

Rehearsal Hell and Broccoli Pizza

...and thus it begins.  My two month descent into show hell kicked off with this weekend's tech and opening of Into the Woods (pit keyboardist) at the Union County Academy for Performing Arts.  In two weeks, I will be deep into tech and opening weekend of The Music Man (appearing as "Marcellus") at CDC Theatre.  Once that closes, I have two weeks before tech and opening of Pineda Lyric's The Magic Flute (Val's bitch/pit keyboardist).  Throw in a weekend wedding in Minneapolis, my 9-to-5, assorted rehearsals and a daily soul-crushing double commute (Queens to NYC to Jersey and back to Queens) and you can all but confirm the reservations for my extended stay at the Crazy Town Hilton in June (though I'll only have a few weeks recovery time before the Summer Conservatory begins).

Of course, no Pineda production would be complete without a little opening night drama.  For Into the Woods, that would be our Witch losing her voice halfway through the first performance.  The lilting melody of "Children Will Listen" somehow loses it's poignancy when the actor is forced to speak the lyrics in a raspy whisper.  Of course, you can't blame the student.  Sh*t happens.

Thankfully, most of the lead roles were double cast (a nightmare for rehearsal purposes, but a welcome relief in just such an emergency).  So we gave Witch #2 a scant three-hour notice that she'd be making her debut a week earlier than scheduled.  Her shocked look was priceless.  Talk about some bulging cartoon eyes.

Given that teenagers possess a resiliency that adults seem to lose once they hit the legal drinking age, the evening show went off without any major glitches.  Brava, Witch #2!  Sure, there were the usual skipped lines and jumped measures, but heck, it's Sondheim, so certain allowances need to be made.  Or as one of the young performers brazenly explained to me after I scolded him for ignoring the notated rhythms in the score, "I'm really more of an actor so I go with how I feel."  To which I replied, "If you're really that good an actor, you would be able to make it work as written."  Looks like someone ought to start brushing up on their cater waiter skills.

Hopefully we'll get through closing weekend without any major snafus.  Fingers crossed.

How lucky am I that my birthday falls smack dab in the middle of all this chaos?  Not very, says I.  A large chunk of my special day was spent sitting through a painfully slow Music Man rehearsal.  Insomniac?  Stop by the CDC theatre during a Sunday afternoon rehearsal.  I dare you to stay awake.

Three hours later, rubbing my glazed-over eyes and wiping the drool from my open mouth, I somehow managed to crawl out of the theatre and back into the blessed sunlight.  With most of my day already consumed by the rehearsal, I decided to just stay in Jersey for an impromptu birthday dinner with Juan, Val, Trish and family friend, Susan Cook. 

Unlike the the Pinedas, Susan has her finger on the social pulse of NJ.  She's like a Real Housewife, only sane and without fake lashes or hair extensions - so actually nothing at all like a Real Housewife.  Per her suggestion, we headed to Anthony's Coal Fired pizza in Edison for a sloppy night of pizza and drinks.

These tasty birthday morsels came courtesy of Susan.  And no, I did not share.

This comely drag queen was my birthday present from Trish (obviously on a very tight budget).  Turned out it was just Susan in her finest Newark crack ho drag.  That's not her real hair, in case you were wondering.

Trish enjoys her pizza while Val, bored with us all, checks email.  

I give Susan a "thank you" smooch for the fantastic restaurant recommendation.  Though it doesn't sound very appealing, the roasted broccoli pizza was the surprise hit of the evening.  Shocked carnivore, Val, admitted she preferred it to the (also delish) sausage pie.  And the chicken wings (fire-roasted and smothered in caramelized onions)?  Better than sex (unless it's sex with Gerard Butler).  Or better yet, sex with Gerard Butler followed by wings.  Or even better, sex with Gerard Butler smothered in caramelized onion-covered wings.  Mmmm.  Bring on the wet naps!

More smooching, but this time with a pink whale at Yapple Yogurt where we stopped for dessert.  Incidentally, the 16-year-old straight boy working the register was the only person all day to comment or acknowledge my bright pink "Birthday Princess" sash (scroll down for better view).  Weird, huh?  Even weirder,  he had the nerve to try and one-up me by bragging that he wore the same sash on his birthday except that he also had...  wait for it...  a tiara.  I was about ready to cut a bitch.

The siblings did good in the present department.  Here's my new Kindle Paperwhite, courtesy of Trish, and fancy new Kindle case, courtesy of Juan and Val.

Since you can never have too many cupcakes, Trish, courtesy of black Billy, presented me with more delightful treats from Billy's bakery - that would be Billy's Bakery in Chelsea.  Black Billy does not have a bakery.  Not that I know of.

Poor, sick black Billy (again, not to be confused with the Billy's Bakery Billy), after delivering my birthday treats through a fever-induced fog.  He's resting up for the arduous 2-block walk back to his apartment. 

And thus endeth year 42 of my life on earth.  Here's hoping the 43rd is filled with more friends and cupcakes.

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.

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

Carousel Hell

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sigh.

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

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

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.

Danced in my scanties / Three bucks a night was the pay / But I'm here...

If you don't know that quote, your rainbow membership is hereby revoked by order of The Friends of Dorothy.

But yes, I'm still here but extremely busy, so I haven't been quite as prolific with posting recently.  So much has happened since the ball dropped on 2012 that I don't even know how to start filling you in on my latest adventures.  I guess I'll just start typing and hope to finish before I need some lunch or before some selfish banker type interrupts my "me" time with a trivial request to book travel for some multi-billion dollar IPO.  Anyhoo...

Juan, Val and I spent several agonizing days in January locked in the mold-friendly walls of the CDC theatre auditioning folks who apparently cannot count to 16 (all you non-theatre folks, don't worry, you're not meant to get that reference).  The question weighing most heavily in people's minds was why we bothered to audition our sister, Trish, instead of just handing her the role of Carrie.  Well, because unlike most community theatre in New Jersey - and probably the nation at large - we actually don't pre-cast our shows.  I know, a bold and original concept, but we're crazy that way.

Sis was wonderful, of course.  But as they say in the casting biz, there was someone else who auditioned that turned out to be a better fit.  And yes, she still talks to us.

Our biggest surprise was the pathetic turn out for the auditions.  Is there seriously a baritone alive who would not sell his soul to play Billy Bigelow?  This, my friends, is the community-theatre-versus-professional-theatre conundrum.  An audition for Carousel in NYC would cause a stampede of "Julie"s and "Billy"s to storm the AEA audition center.  In Cranford, NJ, not so much.  It seems musical theatre's legacy is in the hands of performers who don't wish to appear in a show written before 1990 or that has the adjective "legit" in any way, shape or form associated with it.  Are we destined for a future filled with musicals based on mediocre films?  Dear God, what's next, Ghost the Musical?  Oh, wait...

We're now three weeks into rehearsals and though most of the first act is blocked, we still don't have a full cast.  Yup, we like to play on the edge.  We're kooky like that.  Fingers crossed that our potential new Jigger works out.  Otherwise, we're sort of fucked. 

In other news, the audition requests for our summer high school production of Legally Blonde are pouring in.  I can't wait to watch fourteen and fifteen-year-old girls try to act like sexy sorority co-eds!  I smell a law suit.

Believe it or not, I have yet to watch an episode of "Smash".  I'm all for promoting musical theatre on national TV, but the idea that Katharine McPhee would wow any panel of jaded Broadway professionals (singing Christina Aguilera, natch) is dubious, to say the least.  Instead, I choose to waste the precious few moments of my free time in the ultra realistic milieu of a post-apocalyptic world filled with "The Walking Dead."  Yes, I'll choose a real zombie over Katharine McPhee anyday.

Stay tuned for reviews of How to Succeed (viewing #2 with Nick Jonas), Merrily We Roll Along at Encores! and On a Clear Day You Can See Forever.

I'm going to be in a writing frenzy over the next few days, so you'll have plenty of bed time reading material coming your way shortly.

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.

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.

Bats and sailors

The Pineda Lyric Young Artist production of The Bat opens next weekend.  Unfortunately, there's this little interruption called "Memorial Day" that occurs right in the midst of our tech week.  Don't get me wrong, I fully support our troops - I've dated both a Marine and a Navy man, thank you very much - but the break in the tech week schedule means Tuesday night's rehearsal - our first day back from a long weekend break - will be a guaranteed disaster.  Why?  Having worked with teenagers in shows for almost 10 years now, I have learned one thing:  unless forced or threatened, most student actors will do minimal, if any, prep work outside of the rehearsal hall.  Sure, there are the unusual students who will show up at each rehearsal off book and ready to go, but my decade of practical experience tells me not to hold my breath.

So after yesterday's run-through, which was preceded by three straight days of rehearsal, I had what I refer to as my "Juan moment."  Let me explain.  My brother, Juan (see sidebar on left), who teaches and directs students all the time, has - how shall I put it? - a bit of temper.  At around 2 or 3 days prior to tech week of any show, prompted by a missed cue, a botched entrance, the fiftieth repetition of the same stage direction or by a noisy ensemble backstage, Juan will inevitably lose his cool and go totally ape-shit on the cast.  It's actually quite scary but almost always warranted.  His face will get red, his neck will tense up and his voice will reach the decibel levels of a tornado siren. 

Though my "Juan moment" is usually prompted by a similar situation, I have the opposite reaction.  I become unusually calm, but with the sarcastic bite that only a gay man or a Real Housewife can muster.  And through a carefully worded, completely manipulative speech, I lay a massive guilt trip on the cast that would make any Jewish grandmother proud. 

So after yesterday's listless run-through, chock full of botched lines, forgotten blocking and just plain un-focused and careless execution, I gave my speech.  I immediately know my words have hit the bull's eye when I look down and see 20 pairs of puppy dog eyes looking up at me, hurt and surprised - as if they had expected me to praise their lackluster work.

Of course, I have to remind myself these are teenagers.  I mean, was I actually ever that studious and responsible when I was 15?  You bet your ass I was!  Hello, I used to lock myself in the piano room and practice 6 hours a day (not exaggerating - 2 hours before school, 4 hours after) and still maintained a straight "A" average.  Oh well, I was also considered a nerd to most of my peers.  It's a trade off.

Hopefully, last night's rehearsal was just a case of early summer-itis.  Until then, I'll enjoy the sights of the city this holiday weekend.  And by sights I mean sailors.  Yes, it's Fleet Week!  The annual event that literally brings boatloads of men in tight white pants to the center of the universe, New York City.  A gay man certainly had to have come up with the idea.  I'll sadly miss part of the weekend festivities as Trish and I will be heading to Baltimore to celebrate a friend's Birthday (report to follow), but I'll be back on Sunday night to leer at our brave men in uniform.

Happy Memorial Day weekend!

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. 

A weekend flat on my back

Minds out of the gutter, people!  I threw my back out a couple weeks ago during the strike of La Traviata.  Forgetting that I'm no longer a nubile, young thing but a fat, middle-aged theatre queen, I tried to move a set piece that probably required two fat, middle-aged theatre queens (or one fairly in-shape young person).  Alas, I thought I was recovering well enough until I spent a weekend on Juan and Val's click-couch futon and a night awkwardly twisted in my own bed. 

Too embarrassed to call out of work due to a bad back, I instead did what any honest working girl would do, lie.  Feigning illness, I spent the day reclined on my couch, wrapped in an ace back support, watching twelve hours of holiday-themed cooking shows - actually not a terrible way to spend a cold winter day.  Note to self, back braces only look good on hunky weight lifters, professional wrestlers and delivery men.  On regular schmucks like me, they only accentuate an already bulging muffin top. 

I did manage to make it to rehearsal (for the Very Merry Pineda Holiday Spectacular!) Sunday evening, but wasn't much help.  Thankfully, Chris was on hand to whip the Pineda-ettes into shape for their featured number while I remained sidelined at the keyboard in my back brace.  Coincidentally, Chris also had a senior moment earlier that day.  He lost his car at the Short Hills mall parking lot.  Yes, he actually forgot where he parked and spent a panicked 15 minutes roaming the huge lot in a cold sweat.  What a sad pair we make.   Was it really only 13 years ago that we hand-jived our way across the country playing teenagers?!  Now we're wearing back braces and losing our cars.  Sad, just sad. 

The countdown begins...

How’s this for comedy? - Friday night’s final dress rehearsal of La Traviata will be the first and only time the full cast will ever run the show together before opening night on Saturday.  I know, hilarious.  I’d be crying if it wasn’t so ridiculous. 

That said, I’m tired, but not as stressed out as usual.  Tonight is the sitzprobe followed by three run-throughs and then (insert bombastic trumpet fanfare here) opening night!  We’re actually in pretty good shape except for a couple of scenes that haven’t gotten much stage time.  I just have to keep reminding myself that in the past there are always at least a few scenes left to block when we hit tech week - not so this time.  We’ve actually hit every scene at least once.  I know, that’s not exactly something to brag about, but I think that’s actually a Pineda record for preparedness.

I cannot even begin to explain the rehearsal schedule nightmare this show turned out to be.  Val, of course, was the one banging her head on the coffee table trying to make everyone’s crazy schedules coalesce.  But it’s a common opera producer’s dilemma - do you hire the tried and true talent so busy flying back and forth from gig to gig that they can barely make rehearsals or do you go with unknown singers and hope to discover the next “big thing.”  Regardless, come Sunday night, I’m sure you can find her washing down prozac appetizers with red wine spritzers at the cast party.