Friday, January 29, 2010

Click Clack Moo... lite?

Today started like any other local-show day. Shaun, returned to his full fighting strength, was back with a vengence, and we were pumped for a good show to come. So, off we headed to Darien, CT, where we would perform the second of our in-school shows.

So, after an hour-long drive into Connecticut, passing street names that included Mansfield and Sedgewick (you can tell in which part of Connecticut we were), we finally arrived at our destination school. Where the fun began.

I was charged with driving the cargo van that day, which, for those of you who have not followed Theatreworks-style shows in, is a large, white, windowless, unmarked Sprinter van. We store all of our set pieces in the back, and the cab has seating for two. Many rather PG-13 jokes have been made about that vehicle, and the sad irony of the circumstance is that we regularly drive this vehicle onto school property. Well, today, things got a little too close for comfort. As I followed our contact towards the double-doors that lead to the stage, I discovered the strange folly of this plan: my route took me across the four-square court and straight into the iced-over playground, where I would park and begin unloading. Add to that the scruffy beard I'm
sporting and my generally disheveled, I-only-got-about-five-hours-of-sleep-last-night-and-can't-be-bothered-to-dress-for-success appearance, and we were setting up a recipe for disaster. Nothing happened, of course, but I did get a rather strange look from our contact as I exited the van.

Anyway, inside the school, things only got stranger. For demonstrative purposes, here's a picture of our set as it is usually put together:



See that thing with the "Brown's Farm" sign on it? Well, that is supposed to be 17 feet back from the front of the stage. And our playing space is, ideally, 26 feet wide. So, when the back curtain comes down to cover a brick wall that is 10 feet from the front lip and the width of the whole thing hits 20 feet, you wind up with this:



Yep, our second modified show in as many days. You may notice that we lost the house-like structure on stage left? Well, guess whose house that is? Yep. Farmer Brown is apparently also hurting in this economy. So, after a day of the cows going crazy reblocking around a lost bovine, it was Colleen and I who bore a loss this time. Suddenly, it appeared that Farmer Brown lived behind a tree, which at least one little munchkin caught. Practically-speaking, our entry space was only about a foot wide (and our blocking necessitated that, at one point, three people stream out from back there), so we all became extraordinarily conscious of our spacing. Plus, we lost almost all of our backstage changing space, which meant that the frantic three-people-at-once chicken change involved a ton of clothes throwing, grunting, elbowing and (in my case) costume losing.

But, as with most all Theatreworks adventures, it worked, and the kids were none the wiser. In fact, I think this may have had had some of the best teacher reactions we've had yet. For a rather stone-faced group to begin with, Aaron's breakout section in "Loretta's Anthem" (this part includes lyrics like "I've got a feeling in all four of my stomachs") smashed any remaining resistance, and we had them for the rest of the show. And, peeking around from behind my new "tree" home, I did catch one fairly-attractive teacher pointing at our of our other male actors and mouthing to a fellow teacher, "he's cute." Oh, the magic of live theater...

Call tomorrow: 10:!5am, 108th and Amsterdam. Off to Wallingford!

Kid quote of the day: When the cows decide to recruit those "disgusting chickens" to join the strike and we made our entrance, one little kid shouted: "Boo chickens! Yay Cows!"

Thursday, January 28, 2010

Understudies

It all started on Wednesday, after our first school show ever in White Plains, NY. Shaun (Duck) had been complaining of back pain all day, but, after lunch, it turned into something more severe. As we headed out for dinner in New London, CT, Shaun started mentioning chills and nausea. I waited with him at the hotel so he could grab a few extra layers before grabbed dinner at an Indian restaurant. Where Shaun barely touched his soup, ate only a few pieces of bread and said next-to-nothing. We all gathered to watch the State of the Union (YES WE CAN!) and said our goodnights, very worried about what we might find the next morning. You see, Theatreworks does not provide understudies, only a "fall chart," and the hope that the other actors are swift enough to pick up the slack.

By 6:00am, Aaron was already looking over the Duck's big song, choreography, lines and blocking.



The fall chart for Click Clack Moo is heavily dependent on Aaron for all male roles, as his cow (Loretta) is the easiest of the man-played characters to lose. This, even though he has a huge song about midway through the show and many, many comic bits, so it's not really an "easy" track to remove. (Did I mention that this show is an ensemble piece? It is. Even changing one role throws a lot of stuff of) The bulk of Aaron's usual song, "Loretta's Anthem," fell to Claire, and Grace picked up most of his dialogue. It was decided that, to save Aaron the confusion and challenge of adding extremely-fast costume changes to his already-exciting new track, the role of Chicken #1 would be cut and absorbed by myself and Colleen. We set up at lightening speed, put everybody through their paces to make sure we had some idea of what we were doing, threw on our costumes, scanned scripts and got ready for whatever was going to happen.

What happened was a miracle. I have very little interaction with anyone besides Colleen, so I had the pleasure of standing backstage and watching the antics unfold. Aaron's Duck was outstanding -- very different from Shaun's, but wonderful in its own way. He had me rolling as he danced across the stage in his orange high-tops. Claire rocked out on "Loretta's Anthem" and it was all I could do not to burst out laughing at Grace's antics as the now neurotic and skittish Darlene. For my part, I enjoyed "clucking it down" with Colleen as a chicken duo during our face-off with the cows (even if our attempts to reduce our choreography fell flat on its face). And, on a whole, the fact there was no time to think, much of the show was "on the fly" and we were all trying to stifle laughter made this a high-stakes, ultra-connected, and super engaging show. The highs were high, the lows were low and we earned every second, even if it wasn't quite right. I was reaffirmed in my belief that this cast is ridiculously talented, and will be able to weather anything touring can throw at them. It is moments like this that remind me why I love to be an actor: absolutely anything can happen.

However, we have all agreed that this is a once-in-a-tour experience. As an ensemble show, we need everybody to make it work out the best. Shaun appears to on the mend (he joined us for lunch and looked better, if not 100% back to normal), and we're all praying that he'll be set for tomorrows shows. The show we did today was a version of Click, Clack, Moo (and a very good one, considering the circumstances), but it's not a version I'd feel good about doing for the next six months, as much fun as it was to do once. I'm eager to get the full ensemble back together, and keep "moo-ving" our way along the tour. So, get well soon! And no more sickness!!

Oh, and we got on our first marquee today. Thanks Bob's Discount Furniture!



Call tomorrow: 6:50am, 108th and Amsterdam. Whew! TOO EARLY!!

Kid quote of the day: When I sang, "The cows say..." and listened for typing sounds on the track, the kids appeared unsatisfied. So they answered: "Moo!"

Tuesday, January 26, 2010

Touching Torrington

Ah, a day off! Time to sleep in (until 7am), hang out in the apartment (cleaning, doing dishes, getting laundry done...), see friends (voice lesson at 4pm, shopping trip to Trader Joes, dry cleaner, Kinkos, dollar store) and rejuvenate body, mind and spirit (uh...). Oh, and blog. There's a lot to catch up on.

We had shows in Greenwich, CT (incredible theater in a private school), Riverhead, NY (which was so "on," apparently, that our stage manager, Alaina, was moved to call it an "absolutely amazing show") and Torrington, CT. And while there wasn't really anything remarkable about Torrington, it had a certain amount of special meaning to me. Why? Well, Torrington is my mom's hometown and the Warner Theater, our venue, is where Mom saw movies when she was little. The Warner is an old vaudeville house (circa 1931) that has been re-purposed and re-purposed again and again. Most recently, it has been restored to its original glory for use as a performing arts center, and it's beautiful:



There's something fun about finding a personal connection in a certain venue. I've rarely invited friends or family to come see me in touring shows (mostly because I've rarely had people close by), but it always makes your want to give a little more, to make that performance just a little more special. And seeing all those kids out there made me imagine what it must have been like for my mom at that age to come to this place when she was about their age. Perhaps she was as awe-struck by the architecture as they were. Maybe seeing a movie there sparked something in her, like I hope we spark something in these kids. And, while the folks probably won't get to see this show (we're nowhere near Minnesota this time around), it was very moving for me to feel their presence at this venue.

And, for the record, it was a pretty awesome show.

Call tomorrow: Good question. I eagerly await Alaina's text message.

Kid quote of the day: At one point, I ask the audience, "What is a granddad without a granddaughter? Nothing!" One precocious child responded, "a grand-nothing."

PS. Follow our tour on Twitter @MooTour2010

PPS. Shout out to Joanna and Matt! Check out their new locavore website: Spoon and Trowel. It is more than worth a visit, and certainly one of the best things on the web!

Sunday, January 24, 2010

Tired Two-Show Magic

Two show days are rough to begin with. You have to pace yourself to make sure you’re not completely exhausted by the end of the second show, because you know you’ve got load-out immediately following, and likely a bit of a drive to wherever you’re headed. When I see we’ve got one coming up, I usually aim to get extra sleep the night before, pack some snacks for between shows, nap or otherwise lie low during our between-show break and attempt to avoid driving one of the legs. No matter what show you’re doing, it’s a haul.

So, when our 12-hour invasion from the night prior prevented any of us from getting more than four hours of sleep, you can imagine that we were not exactly happy campers. The morning van call was laden with grunts and groans, and there was much sleepiness expressed by all. I, very luckily, managed to snag a seat in the back of the passenger van and, surrounded by pillows, slumbered for our entire ride to the Raritan Valley Community College.

I think one thing I have learned about performing on exhaustion is that it guarantees that surprising things will happen, and, most of the time, they are for the better. And with that preface, we were certainly in for some excitement. A little exhaustion causes everyone to make new, revitalizing choices. Suddenly, scenes seemed a little different, perhaps a little more connected, and everybody ups their game a little. Maybe we do this to compensate, or maybe this just happens because nobody has the energy to try that hard. Regardless, the shows seemed fresh and fun. Lots of little new and exciting moments.

Yet, for me, the biggest, was the effect of a clap-happy audience. Colleen, as Jenny, sings a rockabilly song berating me (her granddad) for being stubborn, one that thrills me every time, especially since I first knew her as the type-A, highly-reserved Ruby. Anyway, mostly-kid audiences really identify with her, as she provides them a very understandable perspective on the whole situation.. Well, this crowd really got it, and clapped along with her through her entire song. As an actor, when you get that kind of response, your performance goes through the roof and Colleen, (exhausted) pro that she is, kicked it into high gear. I have never felt so bad to be a “hot head, nut bread” or a “thumb-sucking baby.” When she was finished, we shared a secret smile, and, in the truly thunderous applause, I got to sit back and watch us really nail a part of this performance. Even on four hours of sleep, we can kick this show hard.

Oh, and Raritan was the first time we signed a wall. Watch out, Future! Someday, this brick will be worth a ton.



Call tomorrow: 7:25am, 108th and Amderdam. A much saner hour.

Kid Quote of the Day: At one point, after threatening to leave, Jenny (Colleen) steps into the house, closes the door, and returns moments later with a packed suitcase and backpack. Today, one charming munchkin announced, “That was FAST!”

Saturday, January 23, 2010

Showcasing

The day began early, with a 7:25am call at our lovely Wyndham in Pittsburgh. Our day off prior had been wonderful: Thai food and tea, a trip to the Warhol Museum and dinners out (mine with my dear friend Molly). However, for a 10:30am show and a 15 minute drive, 7:25am seemed somewhat excessive. No matter. When we arrived at the brand-new August Wilson Theater in Pittsburgh's new Cultural District, Ken Arthur (Producing Director) and Steve Cochran (Associate Marketing Coordinator), greeted us with coffee, bagels, pastries and two sets of extra helping hands. We had our set up in no time, and spent the remaining hour sharing tour stories.

This performance, our second so far, was very different from any other we're likely to do. You see, Theatreworks was presenting us as part of the International Performing Arts for Youth showcase, a gathering of presenting organizations to check out the artistic wares of producers from across the world. Shows included a one-woman King Lear, a clown Frankenstein and us. As Ken put it, "They're presenting Art with a capital A, and we bring dancing cows." My previous experiences with showcase performances had not been a good one, having most recently performed 20 minutes of Max & Ruby for a very unimpressed group of middle school students who refused to applaud when we finished. Now, with the added "Art" pressure, I was scared we were going to be laughed off the stage. Plus, poor Alaina and Aaron were both feeling sick, we were using our now-taped-up broken tractor for the first time and Theatreworks wasn't entirely sure the 200+ preschoolers they had invited to act as a sample audience were actually going to show. Not a good combo.

What happened over the next hour was perhaps one of the most incredible theatrical experience of my life so far, and, truly, it was all about the audience. One of the things I love about this show is that it truly has as much for the adults as for the kids. So, with a bunch of pre-schoolers in the front row (all with extra chaperons) and a gaggle of theater people in the back, we managed to land every single joke. The kids roared when Loretta's "magic" pizza box revealed a fully eaten pie, and as the mini doppelganger tractor rolled across the horizon. The adults hollered as the Duck sang about the "pain in [his] foie gras" and chuckled as the cows searched videos on YouTube. I actually got some comforting words from the kids during my break-out, self-loathing number and, when we hit the finale, the audience jubilantly clapped along. It was the first time I felt the show work perfectly, and it was absolutely exhilarating.

But the best was yet to come.

After the show, there came a knock on the dressing room door. Aaron answered, only to find Ken standing there. There were tears in his eyes and, with a huge smile, he gave us a giant thumbs up and told us we were amazing. Apparently, the show had gone so well that theaters as far flung as Ontario and Alaska were inquiring about future bookings. Ken was so impressed, in fact, that he has instructed Alaina to take us out to dinner on him. We're not sure where or when, but it will definitely be an experience.

So, thrilled after a great show, and feeling the Theatreworks love, we grabbed lunch at a Pittsburgh institution:



...and headed into our overtime- and invasion-laden six-and-a-half-hour drive back to NYC. Mooing all the way.

Call tomorrow: 6:35am, 108th and Amsterdam. After getting in at 10:30, this is gonna be a rough one.

Kid Quote of the Day: To me, after Jenny professes her intention to leave unless I start treating the cows better: "You're a bad farmer!"

Tuesday, January 19, 2010

Tractor Disaster and Pantsless Chicken

Come 6:30am, I was ready and rearing to go. Our first day out was a driving day, followed by dinner at Shaun's parent's house to celebrate his birthday (a day early). Pleasant, fun, but, ultimately, not good blog fodder. However, as I sprang from my Priceline-provided bed at the Baltimore Hilton Garden Inn, I knew this was going to be a first show for the record books. And, oh, was it ever!

We arrived at the Chesapeake Arts Center bright-eyed and ready to load in. Our cast, one for enthusiastic togetherness, cheered for our stage manager as she backed the Sprinter into the loading dock, and then cheered again when the loading doors opened. There were cheers as the three set units went up, cheers for the newly-added roof pieces, cheers for the sound system provided for the theater and even a little cheer when we remembered that today was, indeed, opening day. What did NOT receive a cheer was this:



To those of you not savvy to the ways of Click Clack Moo (and I assume that that is a lot of you right now), this one-dimensional tractor is a major prop for the Farmer Brown track. I "ride" it across the stage in the opening, and use it repeatedly to get between my house and the barn (which, song lyrics tell us, are a quarter mile apart). There are a number of extremely specific sound cues of tractor starts, stops and squeals that bring the plastic piece to life even more than my meager shaking. And there's a mini tractor doppelganger puppet that helps the kids get all these spacial relationships. However, today, it seemed, would be my first attempt at performance sans my beloved piece of barnyard equipment. Alaina (SM) and I talked through what needed to be changed, what sound cues would be skipped and how I could modify blocking to still get the point across, despite being confined to two feet. Then we changed, received our places call, listened to the curtain speech, and got into place.

And, to my utter amazement, the show went off without any major hitches. Oh, sure, we kicked up our number line, I ad-libbed for a while to cover a quick change gone awry, a costume piece went from lost to found to lost again and a few lines got mangled, but the kids stayed with us, the grown-up jokes landed nicely and we all managed through with some very nice new acting choices, beautiful harmonies and a lot of fun all around.

All until we hit the chicken costume change.

You see, Farmer Brown's alter-ego is a busty, husky, bad-ass chicken (photos coming soon). Which, of course, requires a rapid-fire costume change. Well, I stripped off my overalls and yellow-plaid shirt, only to find that I had forgotten to underdress my fuzzy chicken pants. So, with only about 20 seconds left in the change, and faced with the prospect of appearing onstage in a busty chicken top and Fruit of the Looms, I did what any actor would do: I went running for my pants. Back behind the curtain I dashed, down the stairs, praying that the cows would "milk" the scene a little to buy me a few seconds. On went the pants, up went the fat suit, and I clucked my way onstage whilst tying on my crested bonnet. All while Shaun (Duck) laughed heartily in the wings.

The show finished, we packed, ate, filled the vans and started the long (and somewhat treacherous) drive to Pittsburgh, where we found ourselves staying at an opulent Wyndham (thanks Priceline!) And, as a combined celebration of our first show and Shaun's birthday, we headed for a cast dinner at Benihana:


(Aaron, Alaina, Grace, Shaun, Claire, me, Colleen)


A lovely end to a great first day!

Call tomorrow: None. Day off in Pittsburgh. There is talk of the Andy Warhol Museum...

Kid Quote of the Day: This one was provided by Alaina. Apparently, on the way out, a teacher asked a young boy which character was his favorite. His answer? "I want to be the granddaughter when I grow up."

Sunday, January 17, 2010

On the Road Again


Currently, there are two tattered, note-covered, paper-bound scripts sitting in my shoulder bag, next to a new pair of red, rubberized work gloves, two water bottles, the Actors' Equity TYA contract rulebook and a digital voice recorder filled with clucks and moos. I've turned into a bit of a hermit, and those people who have seen me have likely noticed a slight southern twang in my daily speaking voice. And I have had long discussions with other theater professionals about the appropriate emphasis on the words "Ba-kaw" and "Moo." Plus, there's a new blog. Know what that means? It's tour time, Theatreworks/USA-style!

But, Ethan, you ask, what's with this clucking and mooing? Why the southern twang? And you're wasting your expensive degree breaking down "Ba-kaw"s? Why, yes I am! In fact, I am proud to be joining the inaugural year tour of Theatreworks' newest show, Click Clack Moo as Farmer Brown and Chicken #3. Now is an exciting time to be out with this show, as we are the the second company to take it on a large-scale tour (its first six-month tour) and only the fourth group of actors to inhabit these roles. Which, on a more practical note, makes me the tallest Farmer Brown on record, and has earned me the joking ire of the Theatreworks/USA costume shop, as they searched for overalls, shirts and ruffled skirtsto fit my lanky frame. (More on the skirt later.)

This being my fourth stint with Theatreworks/USA (my two-week replacement on Max & Ruby and my five-week tour with A Christmas Carol this December did not get covered in blog-form), I feel that I am in the unique position to compare this show to past Theatreworks experiences. The set? Cake. We can already get it up in under an hour, and with practice, I'm sure it'll get shorter. The rest of the show? Not so much. In fact, I think this may be the most complex Theatreworks show I've had the good fortune to work on. Over the last two weeks, director Wes, music director Stephanie and choreographer Keith have put us through our paces, teaching us how to pile three chickens atop each other without smacking anyone in the face with their tails, the eccentricities of working with a one-dimensional tractor puppet and the Keystone Cops-eqsue chase moment that, when it works, is hilarious. So many of the jokes in this show play for the adults, so we frequently knew we were doing OK if we could get them to laugh. However, most impressive in this process has been the emphasis on ensuring that the heart and honesty of the story comes through even among all the bits. We're still exploring some of the relationships and deepening our acting choices (there's enough fancy footwork, tricky lyrics and six-part harmonies in this one to more-than-fill two weeks of 10-6 rehearsal days), but that is to be expected and, even so, the show runs great. Plus, we've yet to get it in front of kids, and that changes everything.

And who are "we"? Well, collectively, "we" are the youngest crew I've worked with, and certainly one of the most talented. Colleen, who plays Jenny (Farmer Brown's granddaughter and my frequent scene partner) is a Theatreworks vet, having played a killer Ruby on that tour of Max & Ruby for which I was a replacement. The rest are "newbies," but you'd never know. Our cows are Grace (Darlene), Claire (Maddy) and Aaron (Loretta), who, at this point, should probably go out and cut a CD together, because their blend is absolutely amazing. Shaun, who plays our negotiator, the Duck, quite literally "quacks" me up backstage every day with his show-stopping song and his onstage antics. Add to that our super-experienced stage manager, Alaina, and the fact that this group has got to be one of the most easy-going Theatreworks casts I've ever met, and I think we're in for a good time, onstage and off. I am quite humbled to be working with them, and learn a lot every day.

And me? Well, I'm just thrilled to be playing a human (mostly), singing a big opening number (a first for me), and rocking the receding hairline enough to play a grandpa. It's a great company I'm eager to get to know better, and an awesome little musical that is yearning for a kid audience. Theatreworks has been incredibly good to me over the last few years, and I hope I can do their new show justice as it makes its first trek up and down the east coast. And, on top of it all, I'm delighted to be blogging once again. I hope this online account of our adventures (and misadventures) will bring you as much joy as it does me.

YEE-HAW!

Call tomorrow: 11:30am, 108th and Amsterdam. Let's get going!

P.S. For those hoping for the full Click Clack Moo blogging experience, I highly recommend Colleen's Moovin' with Click Clack Moo blog. Check it out! She's even got a tentative schedule up.