Would you like to know the very tedious task I am performing right now?
I'm putting together THE BOOK. The stage manager's book is, as you know, the show bible. It has every bit of dialogue and music, every light, sound, or fly cue, warnings and standbys, places calls, lists, ground plans and blocking notes...
I've never made a perfect book. Not even close. My books are very chicken-scratchy.
But the book I'm putting together right now has been driving me crazy. First of all, the music is handwritten. It's a 1988 edition. But still, even then, there. were. fucking. printers. This calligraphy makes me a little dizzy.
And what I have, what I'm fixing, is two separate books. One of music, and one of all the dialogue, with indications of when the songs happen. There's a lot of flipping back and forth - and it has to stop.
So the ol' Hewlett-Packard and I are spending a Saturday night recopying half the pages, folded and overlapped, into one continuous script/score. I'm so annoyed, I think I'll take it out on the GTA by having him make some copies of my version. Because the lighting designer needs one, and uh, maybe someone else.
If this isn't living the dream, I don't know what is.
Saturday, November 5, 2011
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
Crew Jobs FTW!
"There's extra work that needs to be done. Who wants to do it?"
In most situations, the person asking that question can expect dead silence, or maybe an uncomfortable cough. So I got the best surprise in a long time tonight, when I told the cast of "Pied Piper" that there were crew positions that needed to be filled -- and nearly everyone's hand went up! I only had eight jobs, not twenty-eight!
Two girls are the props crew. They'll make sure that personal props go to the right people, and that everything gets back to the props table at the end of each tech/dress rehearsal and performance. Two boys and two girls are the costume crews - check in pieces, spray a little Febreeze. The run isn't long enough for laundry. I've got someone to help the Light Board Operator with dimmer check. (Note to self: make sure dimmer check happens, or I'll never hear the end of it from Hailey.)
And the kid who takes martial arts and imitates the fencing moves from "Princess Bride"? Weapons master! He diligently informed me after rehearsal that there were worn areas on a three-foot wooden broadsword that's probably older than him. Which is exactly what I asked him to do.
I didn't assign these jobs to the cast because we couldn't get grownups to crew the show. We have the grownups we need. I want the kids to get the bigger experience of what goes into making theatre. If you do something extra besides act or sing - help build the set, paint some props, hit the thrift stores for costume pieces - you have a deeper connection to the show. You give just a little more of yourself to make the show that much better, and it makes a difference.
There are practical results, of course - production skills can get an actor a job in theatre rather than waiting tables. But most of these kids are way too young to be motivated by that. Extra skills make it easier to create your own opportunities, your own art, when positions in existing organizations are scarce. Again, far in the future. This was all about this moment, this show right now, and a chance to do more.
It didn't make me cry in rehearsal, but now... yeah... I'm a little teary. I've encountered too many performers who couldn't be bothered to hang up their own costumes, let alone go through thirty with a checklist. These kids get it. We're all working together to make something wonderful.
In most situations, the person asking that question can expect dead silence, or maybe an uncomfortable cough. So I got the best surprise in a long time tonight, when I told the cast of "Pied Piper" that there were crew positions that needed to be filled -- and nearly everyone's hand went up! I only had eight jobs, not twenty-eight!
Two girls are the props crew. They'll make sure that personal props go to the right people, and that everything gets back to the props table at the end of each tech/dress rehearsal and performance. Two boys and two girls are the costume crews - check in pieces, spray a little Febreeze. The run isn't long enough for laundry. I've got someone to help the Light Board Operator with dimmer check. (Note to self: make sure dimmer check happens, or I'll never hear the end of it from Hailey.)
And the kid who takes martial arts and imitates the fencing moves from "Princess Bride"? Weapons master! He diligently informed me after rehearsal that there were worn areas on a three-foot wooden broadsword that's probably older than him. Which is exactly what I asked him to do.
I didn't assign these jobs to the cast because we couldn't get grownups to crew the show. We have the grownups we need. I want the kids to get the bigger experience of what goes into making theatre. If you do something extra besides act or sing - help build the set, paint some props, hit the thrift stores for costume pieces - you have a deeper connection to the show. You give just a little more of yourself to make the show that much better, and it makes a difference.
There are practical results, of course - production skills can get an actor a job in theatre rather than waiting tables. But most of these kids are way too young to be motivated by that. Extra skills make it easier to create your own opportunities, your own art, when positions in existing organizations are scarce. Again, far in the future. This was all about this moment, this show right now, and a chance to do more.
It didn't make me cry in rehearsal, but now... yeah... I'm a little teary. I've encountered too many performers who couldn't be bothered to hang up their own costumes, let alone go through thirty with a checklist. These kids get it. We're all working together to make something wonderful.
Sunday, October 2, 2011
I Heart Children's Theatre!
There. I said it. For all my can-we-please-just-do-this-right cynicism, I'm finding it an absolute blast to guide kids as they discover the world of the stage.
I'm in the middle of rehearsals for The Pied Piper of Hamelin, a mainstage production for an all-ages audience. The cast's age range is 4-18, plus a couple of adults. The littlest ones don't quite know how to focus, but they're having fun. The teenagers, luckily, have already discovered they love acting, and are willing to work hard without any teenage attitude.
One of them has hair I spent way too much time trying to achieve in 1987, and her parents let her dye it black. Teenage-me is jealous!
I'm not a teacher, but I have lots of opportunities to teach. When they ask how something works, I tell them about it. When I can, I involve them in little projects to give them more ownership and connection to the show (see also "I'm learning to delegate"). I'm trying to promote good rehearsal/backstage behavior, and that can take creativity. A certain six-year-old will now have a spike mark of his very own, because he's so good at staying on it.
We've just started playing a game called "Quiet Backstage Said The Stage Manager." If the room goes dead silent when I use my stage manager voice, they get a point. Five points will get a treat for everyone, and continued points through the run will get them another treat on closing day. Sure, it's a bribe. It's a group exercise, too: in order for it to work, everyone has to commit. It's also Pavlovian training (okay, Pavlov Lite), and they'll stay on the good side of stage managers they work with in the future.
Sometimes it's hard not to laugh at the things I'm trying to get them to not do. Last week, two Rats were about to tie their tails together. Not as a bit in character, but as kids being kids. I could barely choke out "Bad idea!" Because we don't want to break the costumes. And that would definitely have happened. And it would have been really funny, and laughing would just encourage it.
I'm working with another project called First Saturday Players. Four times a year, a small ensemble of middle-schoolers puts up a show designed for preschoolers. The Players do a few sing-along songs, and present a couple of short, but complete, stories. It all lasts about half an hour... and it's damn cute. The Players take their work seriously (but not overly so) and enjoy being on the grownup side of things, and the li'l punkins in the audience are just too much! I still don't want to see (or hear) much of them in a grownup audience, but when the show is just for them, they really do engage. And they'll probably be really good in grownup audiences when they get older, or want to try acting themselves, because they're learning to love theatre on their terms.
And you've gotta love it when a toddler says, during the interactive intro, "I saw The Nutcracker! In a real theater!" FSP is in the blackbox...
I'm in the middle of rehearsals for The Pied Piper of Hamelin, a mainstage production for an all-ages audience. The cast's age range is 4-18, plus a couple of adults. The littlest ones don't quite know how to focus, but they're having fun. The teenagers, luckily, have already discovered they love acting, and are willing to work hard without any teenage attitude.
One of them has hair I spent way too much time trying to achieve in 1987, and her parents let her dye it black. Teenage-me is jealous!
I'm not a teacher, but I have lots of opportunities to teach. When they ask how something works, I tell them about it. When I can, I involve them in little projects to give them more ownership and connection to the show (see also "I'm learning to delegate"). I'm trying to promote good rehearsal/backstage behavior, and that can take creativity. A certain six-year-old will now have a spike mark of his very own, because he's so good at staying on it.
We've just started playing a game called "Quiet Backstage Said The Stage Manager." If the room goes dead silent when I use my stage manager voice, they get a point. Five points will get a treat for everyone, and continued points through the run will get them another treat on closing day. Sure, it's a bribe. It's a group exercise, too: in order for it to work, everyone has to commit. It's also Pavlovian training (okay, Pavlov Lite), and they'll stay on the good side of stage managers they work with in the future.
Sometimes it's hard not to laugh at the things I'm trying to get them to not do. Last week, two Rats were about to tie their tails together. Not as a bit in character, but as kids being kids. I could barely choke out "Bad idea!" Because we don't want to break the costumes. And that would definitely have happened. And it would have been really funny, and laughing would just encourage it.
I'm working with another project called First Saturday Players. Four times a year, a small ensemble of middle-schoolers puts up a show designed for preschoolers. The Players do a few sing-along songs, and present a couple of short, but complete, stories. It all lasts about half an hour... and it's damn cute. The Players take their work seriously (but not overly so) and enjoy being on the grownup side of things, and the li'l punkins in the audience are just too much! I still don't want to see (or hear) much of them in a grownup audience, but when the show is just for them, they really do engage. And they'll probably be really good in grownup audiences when they get older, or want to try acting themselves, because they're learning to love theatre on their terms.
And you've gotta love it when a toddler says, during the interactive intro, "I saw The Nutcracker! In a real theater!" FSP is in the blackbox...
Monday, September 12, 2011
I *swear* I'm publishing this time!
I've been thinking about this blog again. I haven't touched it in nearly a year. The last post concerned the KC Improv Festival 2010, and now we're between weekends of Festival 11. I looked at the summary page, and saw about four unfinished entries. And I thought to myself, "I started writing these for a reason."
So, those will get finished - but first, a few thoughts of right now:
Every year around Festival time, the Improv Community manifests itself as a living thing that wants to move forward, strengthen the form, gain a stronger presence as part of the entertainment/art/thingstodo scene. Maybe even create a few viable careers. But after a few weeks, a couple months, it seems (to me, with a very distanced perspective) to revert to a handful of strong voices struggling for control of discord rather than allowing harmony to emerge.
This year feels different. I can't say exactly why; it's mostly based on intangibles. Some of it is a sort of magnetic comfort I didn't expect from this weekend, muscle memory of being part of something larger and liking it. It's reinforced by a dose of Jill Bernard's affection for the KC scene, and Jonathan Pitts' astute observations. They're from cities where Things Are Happening. Surges of activity in the past - I wasn't involved, but historically, I'd look to the early Spontaneous Combustion festivals and the formation of the City3 message board - established new levels of prominence, and this year, I think something of that scope is happening.
A lot changes in a year. I got what I needed from a couple years of practicing improv - and a large part of what I needed was a kick in the ass back toward what I'm really good at. Don't get me wrong, it was fun. I love the process, and I miss playing now and then. I'm just not a performer. The part that loves being watched by an audience is missing, but I do share the same love for making a great show with a bunch of like-minded cohorts.
I have my moments, of course. I relish an a vista set change. I enjoy, when it's appropriate and not a fuckup, reminding the audience of the mechanics of the production. (Why, hello, Mr. Brecht. How dear of you to drop in!)
I still have my statements to make, my stories to tell. The stage manager generally doesn't get to do that - and might only get vicarious fulfillment of the creative impulse. In the opera world, which suits my taste for polish and precision, private preparation before the presentation, I'm adding the occasional directing project. Starting small, but it's enough - I'm not seeking international eminence!
So, do look for a few unfinished topics to pop up, and perhaps a more regular report here on what happens behind the scenes of both the productions and my head.
So, those will get finished - but first, a few thoughts of right now:
Every year around Festival time, the Improv Community manifests itself as a living thing that wants to move forward, strengthen the form, gain a stronger presence as part of the entertainment/art/thingstodo scene. Maybe even create a few viable careers. But after a few weeks, a couple months, it seems (to me, with a very distanced perspective) to revert to a handful of strong voices struggling for control of discord rather than allowing harmony to emerge.
This year feels different. I can't say exactly why; it's mostly based on intangibles. Some of it is a sort of magnetic comfort I didn't expect from this weekend, muscle memory of being part of something larger and liking it. It's reinforced by a dose of Jill Bernard's affection for the KC scene, and Jonathan Pitts' astute observations. They're from cities where Things Are Happening. Surges of activity in the past - I wasn't involved, but historically, I'd look to the early Spontaneous Combustion festivals and the formation of the City3 message board - established new levels of prominence, and this year, I think something of that scope is happening.
A lot changes in a year. I got what I needed from a couple years of practicing improv - and a large part of what I needed was a kick in the ass back toward what I'm really good at. Don't get me wrong, it was fun. I love the process, and I miss playing now and then. I'm just not a performer. The part that loves being watched by an audience is missing, but I do share the same love for making a great show with a bunch of like-minded cohorts.
I have my moments, of course. I relish an a vista set change. I enjoy, when it's appropriate and not a fuckup, reminding the audience of the mechanics of the production. (Why, hello, Mr. Brecht. How dear of you to drop in!)
I still have my statements to make, my stories to tell. The stage manager generally doesn't get to do that - and might only get vicarious fulfillment of the creative impulse. In the opera world, which suits my taste for polish and precision, private preparation before the presentation, I'm adding the occasional directing project. Starting small, but it's enough - I'm not seeking international eminence!
So, do look for a few unfinished topics to pop up, and perhaps a more regular report here on what happens behind the scenes of both the productions and my head.
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