Friday, March 26, 2010

Everything's a-Runnin' Smooth, Part 3: Truckin' Home

We woke up, got ready, ate breakfast, and drove our 10' truck (named Bobby-Ray) to the Lincoln Theater at University of Hartford for a two-show day. We were once again down a third of the set (and my beloved tractor), but this space's modest size seemed strangely more appropriate for our diminished set. The loss of my tractor prop had made the first 30 seconds of the show a little miserable (there's only so much jaunty walking, hitch-kicking and marveling at the glories of the farm that one can do without any assistance), so Alaina wisely sent Shaun and Colleen, dressed as chickens, onstage to help distract the kids. The shows went fine, we packed up our tiny truck and headed back to the dealership, to visit Cargo Cathy in "sick bay" and retrieve our remaining set pieces. Cargo Cathy wasn't doing so well:




We lugged the remaining set pieces out and, with great precision and planning, placed them into our tiny truck:




Despite the ordeal, we were happy to be reunited with the full set as we trucked to our La Quinta in New Haven. While more negotiations with UHaul ensued.

While visiting Cathy, we learned that there was no definite repair date, partially because the insurance company had not responded to the dealer's request for a quote, and partially because they had yet to determine the extent of the damage. Theatreworks was still holding out hope for a Saturday fix, but we were not so sure. To be on the safe side, we reserved a 14' truck in New Britain for Saturday, with a final destination of Greenville, SC (our four-day sit-down at the beginning of April). Seeing Cathy in pieces did not inspire much hope.

Friday rolled around, and we got ready to perform in New Haven, when the reality hit: should we need to retrieve Cargo Cathy on Saturday, Alaina and one actor would be losing their day off. Not only that, this was our final day off in New York City before heading off to the South, not to return until June. So, clearly, nobody was jumping up for this position. Tensions ran high before the show, infusing the performance with a new energy that was at once exciting, and unnerving. Post-show, Alaina hopped on the phone to Theatreworks and returned with news: Cathy's "due date" was set for the Monday after we were to head down south, which meant that we would be pushing up the reservation date on our new 14' truck, and driving it down to Greenville. The consequence for this? Once in Greenville, Alaina would be flying back to New Britain to drive Cargo Cathy down to meet us. We loaded out, drove to the New Haven UHaul location where our third (and final) UHaul was waiting for us, and did it all over again:




Tired, cranky, but relieved to be finished with this ordeal and going home, we rode into the traffic of the Cross Bronx Expressway, and back into the city we call home. And everyone was so happy to be there.

Call tomorrow: A glorious day off. Thank goodness!

Kid Quote of the Day: When Shaun appeared onstage for the first time in his Duck costume (which includes an aviator jacket, hat and goggles), a very indignant little child announced: "That duck should be naked." Umm...

Colleen Tractor Quote of the Day: "Ethan Marc Angelica!! I know a young man who has been missing his tractor very badly for the last few days. I think the least he could do is put it away after he's done with it."

Wednesday, March 24, 2010

Everything's a-Runnin' Smooth, Part 2: Nightmare on UHaul Street

Picking up where we left off…

Awake, alert(ish) and ready to go the next day, we headed off to Springfield, MA with our tiny van, which was packed to the gills with only about 2/3 of our set (with all the costumes and hardware in our passenger van):



When we arrived at the theater, however, realized that there could not have been a less-opportune time to lose our set pieces: Symphony Hall in Springfield, MA, is exactly what the name implies, and it is gigantic. Our nice, but smallish, set would still have been dwarfed by the enormity of the space. However, now that our set was down to two units, it just looked silly. Alaina’s quick thinking and the crew’s ingenuity with the mains helped reduce this factor a little, but it was still downright odd:



Between shows, we started calling UHaul dealerships, hoping that somewhere we would find a truck that could accommodate our set, and that we could keep for more than 24 hours. After calling six UHaul dealerships (two of which hung up on us!), we were routed back to our friends from the prior evening, who – surprise! – now could provide us with a 10’ box truck. Problem with this situation? Our set will BARELY fit in a 10’ truck, and they wanted a definite final destination. With Cargo Cathy headed to a shop in New Britain, and no idea when she might be back, this was near-impossible. To add to the difficulty, the approaching Saturday was our last day in NYC before we headed out until June. So, without any knowledge of Cathy’s “due date,” and because UHaul refuses to disclose their Change of Final Destination Fees (only saying that the cost is "astronomical"), we were bracing for three months of set-in-a-10'-UHaul touring. Which would not be fun. We settled on New Britain as our return location, and Saturday as our arrival date, hoping that all would be fixed by then. But we were bracing for the worst: continually extending this reservation -- in a too-small truck -- day-by-day for the next three months as we tour the South, and then driving the sucker back to New Britain, all the while accruing over-mileage charges.

Post-show, Alaina drove back to Worcester to drop off the key so Cargo Cathy could be towed to New Britain, while we loaded the van and lunched in Springfield. Upon her return, we all drove to Worcester and, for the first of many times, unloaded our UHaul van into a 10’ UHaul truck:




It was gonna be a squeeze once we got the rest of the set back. With this task successfully completed, everyone piled into the vehicles, and hopped on the road, bound for New Britain. The pack was tight, and it held the whole way. Upon arrival, we dropped our stuff at the charming La Quinta and raced back to the dealership, hoping to retrieve the rest of our set from the poor, addled Cargo Cathy. We were on a roll, ready to get the rest of our set (and our show) back, when Alaina made a minor discovery: we had no key for Cathy. Frustrated, tired and grumpy, we trundled off to Chili's for dinner, and then home to bed.

TO BE CONTINUED

Call tomorrow: 7:25am, La Quinta, New Britain, CT.

Kid Quote of the Day: When I first take the computer away from Jenny, a little girl shouted: “That’s not a real computer!”

Colleen Tractor Quote of the Day: No real quote today (I was missing my tractor), so I’m working off of stock. This one came from a day when I forgot to set my tractor at the BEGINNING of the show. “Ethan Marc Angelica!! I had to run all the way across the stage to get you your tractor. The least you could do is put it away!!”

Tuesday, March 23, 2010

Everything's a-Runnin' Smooth, Part 1: The Demise of Cargo Cathy

(A note for my more tender-hearted readers: this post contains one word about excrement that might be considered PG-13)

I had intended to write a post today about the beautifully restored 1870s music hall in Portsmouth, NH that we performed in this morning. However, despite my affinity for all things vaudeville and the theatrically historical (and the awesome tour of the theater’s nineteenth century innards by Zhana, who basically runs the place), the tale that came about today was indeed one for the record books.

We enjoyed a lovely lunch at Flatbread, a fantastic pizza shop right next to the theater, dodged the raindrops and piled into Cargo Cathy and Proud Mary (our cargo and passenger vans, respectively). I was safely snuggled in among the pillows at the back of the Proud Mary while Aaron drove, dreaming of George Cohan tapping across the boards in Portsmouth and pretending that I was in his shoes. Alaina and Claire were guiding us to Springfield, MA in Cargo Cathy, where we had a Super 8 and our pay stubs waiting for us. Everything appeared to be “a-runnin’ smooth.”

I awoke with a start when I heard someone shout “Oh shit!” and the car (which wasn’t going all that fast) stopped quickly. Still gathering my bearings, I roused myself enough to watch us pull off the freeway, right behind Cargo Cathy, which was right behind a guy in a big white pickup. Pickup Guy id guy looked like a rugby player, with a shaved head, cropped beard and huge biceps. And he didn’t look too nice.

As we came to a stop in a truck parking lot, I learned what had transpired. Cargo Cathy had been having some brake problems and, combined with the rain, was unable to stop quickly in the stop-and-go traffic that we had been battling our way through. The white pickup had borne the impact. Yet, even though the van was both going under 10 MPH, something was wrong.

Alaina handled the interaction very professionally. Pickup Guy turned out to be really friendly and helpful and, together, they inspected both vehicles for damage. The pickup hadn’t sustained anything (perhaps a few paint scrapes), but it was a company vehicle, so our new friend needed specific documentation. Cargo Cathy, however, was not in good shape:



Yep. At first glance, all we saw wrong was a busted fender and cracked headlights. Neither seemed to be terribly “life-threatening,” until Pickup Guy noted a strange liquid dripping from the side of the van. “You’re leaking radiator fluid,” he said, in a thick Worchester accent. “You should probably get that looked at before you get going.” So, we grabbed our collection of Blackberries and iPhones and started looking for a vehicle repair shop. The good news: we were in Worchester, MA, which has an auto shop on every corner. The bad news: none of them serviced Sprinters. So, while we could get Cargo Cathy looked at in Worchester, there’d be nobody to repair any damage for miles.

We wheeled into a shop and, in the continuing rain, learned more bad news: Cargo Cathy had suffered internal damage, including a cracked radiator (which needed to be completely replaced), and should not be driven. Yet, we had a show to do the next day, and Springfield, MA was still an hour away. Alaina called Theatreworks, and we received our marching orders: head to UHaul, rent a truck, transfer the set and get moving.

If only it was that easy.

Worchester’s only remaining UHaul rental location is not a pleasant place. The people are fairly grumpy, it smells of something foul and, worst of all, they’re stingy with their vehicles. Despite begging and pleading, Alaina was unable to secure any sort of one-way rental, in any vehicle, anywhere. In fact, UHaul even refused to rent us a truck – all we were offered was a 24-hour, in-town rental on a moving van, which was far too small for our set. After more consultation with Theatreworks, Alaina returned with the details: we were to jettison the roll drop, roof of the barn and my tractor (over a third of our set), pack the passenger van and new UHaul van with as much set, sound and costume equipment as we could, and head off to Springfield. As quickly as possible. In the rain.

So we did:



Wet, tired and shaken after a few slips and slides (both human- and van-related), we tumbled into Proud Mary (whose back two seats were filled with our costume bags and bins) and set a course for Springfield. As we started driving, with Journey’s “Livin’ on a Prayer” playing in the background, Aaron turned to us and smiled: “I hate it, but I love it.”

TO BE CONTINUED

Call tomorrow: 7:40am, parking lot of our Super 8, West Springfield, MA.

Kid Quote of the Day: “What is a granddad with out a granddaughter?” Well, somebody in the front row had the answer: “You’re mean!”

Colleen Tractor Quote of the Day: “Ethan Marc Angelica, I know somebody who won’t be getting any pizza for lunch unless he puts away his tractor!!”

Monday, March 22, 2010

A Tale of Two Boots

As background, it is important to know that Theatreworks/USA is always very ingenious in their footwear for their shows. In Max & Ruby, I wore, among others, an excellent pair of lime green Keds and green cowboy boots. Christmas Carol was more standard, although all the period shoes were incredibly comfortable (how this was managed, I do not know). Click Clack Moo, however, calls for some extra creativity. What exactly do you give an actor playing a cow to ensure their feet look like hooves? Apparently, our designer found the perfect answer: UGGS. And thus begins our tale:

Aaron received a pair of UGGS from Theatreworks at his costume fitting, like all of the cows, but his UGGS were a little different. They were slightly oversized, and a bit crumpled around the edges. All of this was fine, as it fit his character choices well, giving him a little shuffle and adding to the general look of sweetness about Loretta. However, over time, the crumple began to worsen, the define began to split and the boots wound up like this:



Aaron and Alaina had spent weeks going shoe shopping for UGGS in every town we visited. There had been trips to Macy’s, Target and the all-mighty Payless. However, UGGS are out of season, and finding them in men’s sizes proved a challenged. So, with another show waiting after the boots met their demise, the adventurous pair headed to Payless, armed with the Theatreworks debit card and a need for black shoes. And here’s what they found:



We’ve dubbed this look “grandpa Loretta.” And, while it was a charming look, it was just about all any of us could do to keep it together onstage. So, Theatreworks got a call, they dispatched one of their buyers, Alaina made a trip to Chelsea Studios and, at our next show in New Hampshire, Loretta was returned to her full glory:



And the old boots got the heave-ho!



Call tomorrow: 7:05am, the Port Inn in Portsmouth, NH. What a lovely town!

Kid Quote of the Day: This one came from Alaina: Apparently, after Jenny stormed into the house and returned immediately with her suitcase, a little boy in the back just couldn’t deal with it. “Teacher, how did she pack so fast? I just don’t understand it! How did she do it?”

Colleen Tractor Quote of the Day: “Ethan Marc Angelica, we are in Jersey, there is flooding and your tractor is not insured!! Put it away!”

Wednesday, March 17, 2010

Dad Comes to See The Show

OK, so today was a big one for me. In four tours with Theatreworks, plus Slim Goodbody, today was the first time either of my parents have seen me perform in a Theater for Young Audiences production (my main mode of employment over the last three years). TYA is a hard-enough thing to explain to a complete stranger, but even more difficult to describe to the 'rents. Dad had the honor, and he picked quite a performance. We had a packed house of kids who went crazy for us and a stellar show that went off without a single hitch. I couldn't have asked for better. And seeing my father's reaction backstage, even knowing how supportive both of my parents have been ever since I took up this crazy avocation/profession at the age of 8, well, it just made me want to jump for joy. I feel like now, regardless of what they thought I might have been doing on these tours, they completely get it and, clearly, they love it!



Call tomorrow: 6:30am, 108th and Amsterdam. We're off to Red Bank, NJ, as the week of local shows continues.

Kid Quote of the Day: We wound up having to reset in full view of a bunch of kids. Every single time a character walked out onstage, they would cheer. And, eventually, they just started chanting "Cow" over and over again.

Colleen Tractor Quote of the Day: "Ethan Marc Angelica!! Time's a wastin'! Put away your tractor!"

Tuesday, March 16, 2010

The Tractor

Many of my long-time readers may remember that, as Farmer Brown, I have a one-dimensional tractor. Well, after breaking and being repaired by our prop guru Colleen, the responsibilities of managing the packing and unpacking of the tractor fell to me. You see, I am one of the few people on the cast tall enough to get the darn thing in and out of its bag. And, since I spend the most time dealing with this prop, Colleen assigned it's management to me. However, as this was not part of the original pack/unpack that I learned in rehearsal, the idea that I was to manage the tractor was a difficult one to grasp, for whatever reason. And Colleen, who manages the props with a deftness like no other, was quick to remind me at the end of the show that I needed to put the tractor away. Her reminder usually went something like this:

"Ethan, don't forget your tractor."

Well, one particular day, her gentle reminder came out with a certain air of motherly guilt-trip. The cast got a kick out of this, and I proceeded to encourage her to make this a regular occurrence. In fact, I now refuse to put the tractor away until Colleen has given me specific instruction to do so. In homage to our mutual friend Lauren (who toured with us on Max & Ruby II), the daily reminder started to come with a Long Island Jewish accent. Then Colleen began to include my full name (including middle!) And, since its humble beginnings, this ritual has grow more and more absurd tone every single day. In fact, some of Colleen's gems are so priceless that, beginning with this post, I am adding a new end-of-the-blog section known as "Colleen's Tractor Quote of the Day." So, when you read each one, imagine it highly accented, and directed as though its recipient (me) is three years old. I promise, they're good!



Call tomorrow: 7:20am, 108th and Amsterdam. We are in the throes of our last week of local shows. Which means I'm barely sleeping. And tomorrow is a big day!!

Kid Quote of the Day: When I ask "What is a farmer without a farm?," one kid (who was clearly paying close attention to our quick changes) shouted, "A chicken!!"

Colleen Tractor Quote of the Day: "Ethan Marc Angelica! You are dead to me if you do not put away your tractor."

Sunday, March 14, 2010

The Tour Rumble

We arrived at our Courtyard by Marriott in rainy Waterbury, CT, only to discover that our turf had already been invaded. There appeared a call board in the lobby, two large buses in the parking lot and a swarm of people in black zip-up fleece jackets gathered in the lobby. We found ourselves alongside the nemesis of every Theatreworks/USA touring cast: the fabled non-union national tour. In our case, our foe was Beauty and the Beast.

It seemed it would be a musical theater battle for the ages: cows versus candlesticks. A true "rumble" in the style of West Side Story. And, we knew we were outnumbered: Shaun ran into a cast member in the laundry room, while I spotted a handful in the fitness center and Grace bumped into three in the elevator. It soon became clear that it was 5-1, with the Beast holding the advantage. Things looked bleak. However, we barnyard-types held a secret weapon: the elusive Equity card.

Over dinner, we planned our attack: first we would take out the cutlery. Then Grace, whose mother played Mrs. Potts for years on tour, would use here extensive knowledge of the show to help us get to Belle and the Beast (clearly the leaders of this operation). Claire was to make a distraction, I had designs on the clock, Shaun and Colleen were ready for hand-to-hand combat with Gaston, Aaron was stalking Lefou and Alaina had a prompt script poised to knock out the PSM. It was all a matter of time: they had an 8pm show, which meant the restaurant would be staying open to accommodate a late-night meal. I nominated as the spy, prepared to infiltrate their group, meet their operatives and gather as much info as I could, so I hunkered down in a lounge chair at the bar, sipping Jake & Cokes and waiting patiently for the targets to arrive.

They never did.

When I awoke the next morning, I knew I had to up my game. They had escaped after a show (sure, they were "tired" and "had a two-show day the next day" that "Disney executives were attending" and so they "had to rest up" -- I've heard it all before), but they would not escape this morning. I plopped myself down in the lobby, feigning illness as I hacked and drank copious amounts of water, hoping my "vocal weakness" would lure them to this "sickly" member of the pack. And it worked! I spotted two fleece-clad agents walking towards me, no doubt eying my infirmaries and plotting their attack. They would not take me down so easily! I bolted out of my chair and introduced myself:

"Hi, are you here with the tour of Beauty and the Beast?"

The agents looked suspicious: "Yes."

"I'm here with the tour of Click Clack Moo."

Their next move was a stunner. Suddenly, the questions came out about our tour. Where had we been? Did we know any similar people? I learned that a few of the Beast-ly cast members had auditioned for our show around the time the were offered this show. Clearly, these agents had been well-trained by the Beast and Belle. Not to be outdone, I returned fire with questions about their tour, learning that they are all on year-and-a-half contracts, with few days off until August, very long travel days and mostly week-long sit-downs. We were facing skillful opponents with great stamina and endurance -- not a good sign. We said our goodbyes and the two agents walked away before I realized that they had outsmarted me! Their subversive wordplay had caught my stealth action off guard. So, not to be entirely humiliated, I chose to take the one piece of revenge I could:




Beauty and the Beast, you may have won this time. But, mark my words, the next time we meet, the cows are takin' you down!

Call tomorrow: None! It's a day off at home! How lovely!

Kid Quote of the Day: During curtain call, the kids "moo"-ed at the cows instead of applauding them.

Saturday, March 13, 2010

Down a Cow

...or, at least, that's the way Alaina described it on the Twitter account (if you're not following us, you should be: @MooTour2010). You see, our fabulous Grace (Darlene the Cow) had the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to sing for Stephen Sondheim. On his 80th Birthday. At Lincoln Center. Recorded and broadcast by PBS. This one was clearly too good to pass up, so, after some calling between agents and Theatreworks, she was released from our shows in Boston to attend rehearsal (all other rehearsals and shows didn't conflict with anything cow-related). We were all beyond-thrilled for her, but faced with another interesting situation: a second "two cow show." Well, actually, two "two cow shows." In Boston.

What is handy about this situation is that (a) we had foreknowledge of the circumstances, (b) nobody was directly replacing another role and (c), for me, it barely affects my track at all. However, we were faced with what the cast termed "schizophrenic Loretta": Darlene is the character who is most resistant to joining the cow strike and, with her gone, that responsibility falls to Loretta. Yet, Loretta is the impetus for "Loretta's Anthem," in which she quickly (and with much gusto) decides to join the strike. Now, poor Aaron would be playing both sides of the coin, proclaiming in one breath that he's "proud to be bovine," while in the next telling Maddy that he's "not sure about this; making milk is all [he] know[s] how to do." After quickly running the show in the hotel room the night before, Aaron and Claire were ready for all their changes. The rest of us, however, hoped we would be too.

The big day arrived in Boston and we arrived at the venue extra early (not entirely by design; the receptionist at the hotel had warned us to leave lots of time for traffic, but there was none to be seen), loaded in, suited up, and got ready. What was nice about the day was that we had two shots to get all this right: so any missteps of the first show could be rectified during the second. And, while there were few abnormalities to report (both shows went extremely smoothly), I thought it worthwhile to share some of the better quotes from the show:

• Lyric change: instead of singing "If he plain refuses to hear us three, Maddy swapped out "our plea." Smarty-cow!

• Lyric change: instead of "The first thing you should do is send an offer to those three, just tell them what you want and what you'll do if they agree," Jenny changed it up to "those two" and "come through."

• At one point, in an effort to recall one of the many Darlene lines she was covering, Loretta suggested that everybody "just sit back, relax and made some milk."

• "Loretta's Anthem" provided quite a few gems: First, in order to get into the song (having no Darlene foil off of which to bounce her arguments), Maddy would up tricking Loretta into announcing she would join up (the repeated lines are, "We can't," "We won't" and "We gotta"; I bet you can figure it out). Then, Maddy fabulously jumped between two octaves at one point to negotiate singing a line written in "boy key," while Loretta shot up an octave (or perhaps two!) for her "sing it 'til the cows come home" riff. And, in addition, with all of Loretta's back-and-forth during the song, it was all any of us could do to keep it together off-stage.

• When Jenny returns the computer to the cows (after Farmer Brown wins it in a tug-of-war), the cows handed it down the line: Maddy, Loretta and... oops! When Loretta realized that there was no Darlene, the two cows shared a momentary look of panic.

• At the end of the show, when I reconcile with all the cows (hugs all around!), I called Loretta "Darlene" and, after I caught myself, changed it up to "Nope, you're Loretta, Loretta."

And, of course, it all worked out wonderfully, without a child (or teacher!) the wiser. When Grace returned to meet us later in the evening, we were all excited to tell her of our two-cow exploits, but delighted to have her back. This show really is a six-person cast, and, while understudy's always give us a nice jolt of energy, it's nice to be back to the status quo.



Kid Quote of the Day: Before the second show, the entire audience started chanting "Farmer Brown."

Call tomorrow: 12:45pm!! We have a 3pm show in Waterbury, CT, and are staying a stones throw away from the venue. The sleeping begins... zzz...

Thursday, March 11, 2010

Lobsterfest 2010

There is nothing like good lobster meal to unite a cast. I'd been pushing for a feast of this kind since I saw Maine on our itinerary. And, being a group of foodies (including a few first-time lobster eaters), it seemed only right that we indulge while in Portland. Even our two vegans decided to partake, so I knew we were on to something. We got a recommendation from the receptionist at our La Quinta, piled into the van, and headed downtown.

Where it all went wrong.

You see, J's Oyster Bar looked like a perfect spot: wise-cracking patrons, a pub atmosphere, fresh oysters, a big lobster plate and a sassy barkeep. Well, perhaps a too-sassy barkeep. After determining that one of our cast member's IDs was not to her liking (despite the fact that said ID has been accepted at two airports within the last month), we were all-but thrown out of the bar. Determined to make a good evening of it, I suggested DiMillo's, the restaurant Max & Ruby I visited when we were in Portland, and we trudged our way over, hoping that the prices had not risen too much in the intervening two years. Turned out, we hit the jackpot! DiMillo's was running a special: 2 lobsters for under $20! Double the value of J's Oyster Bar! We rushed in, snagged ourselves a table, and this is what followed:


Alaina is trepidatious about trying lobster


Courage is gained















I feel it is worth mentioning that the Grace (l.) and Claire are our two vegans.



The toast this evening went something like this: "With friend's like these, I'm a lucky guy!" I couldn't agree more.

Revisiting, Revising

This week was a bit of a nostalgia trip for me. The tour path took us, in consecutive days, to three stops from Max & Ruby I: The Veterans Memorial Auditorium in Providence, RI (previous blog post here), Mechanics Hall in Worcester, MA (post from the Sally-Swims-a-Lot blog here), and the Merrill Auditorium (post here). And I was reminded, as I have been many times, that memories are not always 100% accurate, that places change over time, and that you can never go home.

Memory is a strange guide, isn't it? Some things stay consistent, while others grow enormously, shrink to a minuscule size or get forgotten all together. Take, for example, Mechanics Hall. Despite the fact that two cast members from Max & Ruby I got stuck in it, I completely forgot about the elevator. Plus, I thought the stage was the size of a postage stamp, when in fact it was really quite large. I did, however, remember that the theater is surrounded by oil paintings of important -- but now dead -- white guys. With the Veterans Memorial Auditorium in RI, all I remembered were the cheering kids, but completely forgot the tiny elevator, the wonderful crew and the beautiful auditorium. With the Merrill, my memories consisted entirely of the delicious cappuccino, the beautiful hotel and the lobster feast. I forgot that this theater has an autographed headshot from Carrot Top backstage, seats over 2000 kids, and has a balcony so high up that you feel like your singing to the heavens. Amazing what sticks and what doesn't.

And what's been great fun is the fact that all three locals provided new, distinct tales from the road. Our stop in RI placed us in perhaps the most terrifying hotel I've ever stayed in on a tour, an America's Best Value Inn that clearly rented a few rooms by the hour. Mechanics Hall boasted my first space-out during the tour (I was a few seconds late on an entrance, which caused Alaina to assume I must have been murdered backstage by a renegade child; I figured I must be getting tired.) And Merrill was notable once again for the mishap-filled lobster feast that preceded it (entry coming soon). I've got a few more repeats coming up, and I'll be interested to see how they fare in comparison to my memories of them. So far, everything's looking good.

Call tomorrow: 6:30am, Hilton Garden Inn, Waltham, MA. We're down a cow tomorrow. Should be interesting...

Kid Quote of the Day: Upon my announcement that a farmer without a farm is "nothing," one small child shouted, "You got that right!" Thanks, kid.

Wednesday, March 3, 2010

We're (kinda) on Broadway!!

Today began with a quote from a cast member (from whom, I can't remember): "I've always dreamed of performing as a paid Equity actor inside the 'Broadway Box' in a theater that seats more than 500. Perhaps I should have been a little more specific."

You see, our shows today were at the Town Hall Theater, located at 123 W 43rd St, which is just about as "inside the Broadway Box" as you can get. The space seats 1,500 and has the internal decor to rival any of the historic Broadway theater. Plus, it has held some of the biggest and most influential names of our time, including union leaders, opera stars and great thinkers It could be considered, for all intents and purposes, a Broadway house. However, it is not, for reasons that became apparent as soon as we walked inside. The stage is rather wide and narrow, it has no wing space to speak of and the concept of a "fly loft" is out of the question. This place is definitely a music hall. But it's still inside the Broadway Box. And it still seats more than 500. And we were still performing there, as Equity actors. Everything seemed to be falling into place for us to be making a "Broadway Debut," of sorts.

Except that we had to load the set in ourselves, arrived for a 7:50am call and were working under TYA contracts (as opposed to the Production ones that your typical Broadway shows use).

Regardless, I had been both excited and nervous about this performance. Excited because, on my fourth time working with Theatreworks, I was having the opportunity to finally perform at the heavily-rumored Town Hall, and four friends from Max & Ruby II were coming. Nervous? Well, musical director Stephanie, choreographer Keith and Theatreworks Associate Artistic Director Molly were also coming. Everybody had been reviewing their music, lines and blocking for about a week, just to make sure we hadn't strayed too far from any of the direction (which, for the record, we hadn't). So, as the lights went down on before the first show, we were all jazzed up for a great show.

And they were. But it wasn't really us. It was the fact that the kids went absolutely crazy for the show! We're used to an enthusiastic response, but this was something else. When the laughed, it was like a sit-com laugh track. When they booed the farmer (a common occurrence, and blog-worthy at a later point) during his moment of understanding, their ferocity it almost made me cry. They were so talkative and engaged with the performance that I've got a few weeks worth of "kid quotes," many of them more impressive than we've heard in a while. And, for both shows, they just about jumped to their feet when we were through. It was more than anybody could have asked for, especially with important people in the audience.

However, upon load-out, I had an interesting revelation. Yes, performing for an ultra-enthusiastic, "hometown" audience was incredibly fun. And, yes, it was neat to say I got to perform in a big theater within the Broadway Box as a paid Equity actor. And, yes, hearing the approval of our creative team was important, and reassuring. However, I have already had the luxury of playing in theaters in other parts of the country that were just as impressive, held as many people, and had as much historic import as Town Hall (and have had as many important historic theater figures tread their boards). Compared to places like the Stanley Theater in Utica, NY (a restored movie palace from the 1910s), the Veterans Memorial Auditorium in Providence, RI (the theater that made me cry on Max & Ruby I), the Victoria Theater in Dayton, OH (whose former tenants included some of my vaudevillian idols) and the State Theater in Easton, PA (which is haunted by a ghost named Fred), the actual act of performing at Town Hall wasn't the incredible "event" I expected it would be. And it gives me pause to remember that, while I love living in New York City and, right now, wouldn't trade it for anything, my favorite part of touring is that it reconnects me with the rest of the country, and gives me the opportunity to perform in beautiful, historic theaters that I would probably never be privy to under any other circumstances.

(But, still, I basically performed on Broadway today. And that was really cool!)


(photo credit: NewYorkCityTheatre.com)


Call tomorrow: 6:50am, 108th and Amsterdam. The week of local shows continues.

Kid Quote of the Day: When I emerged (spoiler alert!) with the electric blankets for the cows at the end of the "Negotiation," a little boy shouted, "Those aren't electric blankets!" A few moments later, when a plug fell out of the pile of padding, he sheepishly recanted, "Oh, I guess they are."

Monday, March 1, 2010

Sounding off

Today marked a very big day for Click Clack Moo: not only was it our first three-show day (at a school, no less), it was also the beginning of our longest stretch of local shows, and our first 6am call at the vans up on 108th and Amsterdam. This rather-taxing situation was made slightly better by the fact that it was preceded by a day off, but a 4am wake-up is hard to swallow no matter how much sleep you had the night before, so everybody was a little groggy and grouchy as we pulled onto the Triborough Bridge (excuse me, the RFK) and headed for eastern Long Island.

Once we arrived at the school, however, the fun really began.

First, the school had a different schedule for our shows than we did. Our schedule listed 9:15 as the first show time, which would have been tight anyway for building the set and getting our full half hour, but with the time-change to 9am, we went into overdrive. The barn, house and roll drop flew up, and Claire (our ASM 2, and charged with the sound) raced through her set-up. We were making decent time, until Claire approached us with a bit of a problem. "Guys," she said, "the monitor and mini disk player don't seem to be working."

Uh oh.

For those of you new to the Theatreworks set-up, our mini disk player is the source of all our music. And, in the words of former stage manager Rafi, "our 'musical' just turned into an 'al.'" Alaina called Theatreworks and dug through her files for the rehearsal CD while we scoured the school for a CD player. Colleen offered up her iPod, which has the tracks on it, but no converter wire could be found. And, once the first boom box failed to work at all (with only 15 minutes until the first show), we braced for the harsh reality that we might be doing our show a capella. Finally, with about 5 minutes to showtime, a replacement boom box was procured, its speakers deemed large enough to fill the auditorium, the kiddies were let in and our first show began.



One problem we noticed right off the bat is that our rehearsal CD has slightly different tempos and pauses as compared to our performance tracks. My farmer's lament, for example, is at about half-time on the CD from our performance speed. Maddy's revelation (and mine, as well) have huge rhythmic breaks that threw our timing. We stumbled through the first show, able to hear everything but (at least on my part) unsure of our musical footing. We quickly reset, having learned that our second show had been pushed back by a half-hour, rehearsed a few trouble spots, and did it again. And, after a lunch of delivery Chinese (and a Red Bull each for Alaina and myself), performance number three went off without a hitch. Did I mention that we're "really fast learners"? (Sorry. That's a quote from the show.)

What was truly spectacular about the whole experience, besides the fact that we pulled it all off on almost no sleep, was the genuinely positive reactions of the teachers and administrators to our show. Between every single performance, a teacher wandered into the theater to tell us how great we were. This school, it seems, gets a ton of the touring school assemblies out there (and, as a Slim Goodbody alum, I'm well aware of the ways in which those shows differ from Theatreworks), and the teachers were very appreciative that we gave them something they could enjoy along with the kids.

We broke down, giddy from exhaustion (and quite literally dancing a few our our set pieces down the long hallway that stood between our stage and our vans), loaded up, and headed home through rush hour traffic. I drove the final stretch, and as most of the rest of the cast dozed in the back of the passenger van, I took a moment to feel good about today's grueling experience. Lesser casts would have groused and griped about the time changes, the wonky sound, the lack of sleep and the general unpleasantness that accompanied today's shows. But these guys made me laugh and smile until the very last minute. As hard as it all was, today is going down as a favorite on this tour. I just hope we don't have many more like it.

Call tomorrow: 6:30am, 108th and Amsterdam. The local shows continue.

Kid quote of the day: When I announced that "Cows definitely do not type" and a cow-hand produced a letter from the barn, a little boy in front shouted: "Oh yes they do!"