Friends in the Audience

It's the end of an interesting, long week that has been anything but expected and easy. After another huge East Coast snowstorm (is THIS one the Snowpocalypse?), we experienced our first near white-out drive back to New York City, and our second snow day of the tour. Thankfully, this one was a full day off, and the show was called at 5:05am, so nobody wound up stranded at the vans. This unexpected day off came during what would have been an 11-day stretch of straight shows, which is the longest allowed by our contracts. It's a haul, and everybody was rather grateful for an extra day to sleep in. It also came on the first of 10 days of local shows (meaning our trips originate and terminate in New York City and I sometimes have to be awake at 4am), so we're all counting extra sleep as a gift. However, that's not the purpose of this post. This week for me meant two sets of visitors: one a friend and her son ("Max"), and the other my extended family and their kids.

Have I ever mentioned how much I am enlivened by having familiar faces in the audience? The fact that I can look out into the audience, see friends and (sometimes) hear their reactions gives me an extra boost, and makes the show a lot more fun. I've had plenty of adults come to see my Theatreworks (and even Slim Goodbody) shows, but this was the first time I've ever had kids I know in the audience. And, in both cases, the post-show meet up was quite blog-worthy.

When Max and his mom came to our show, I wasn't quite sure what to expect. I'd met Max once, granted over a long period of time, but I was fairly sure he wouldn't have any idea who I was. Well, I was close to right: his initial instinct was to run and hide behind mom. I was still in Farmer Brown clothes, so I imagine that this was also a little odd. Anyway, shortly after that initial shock, he seemed to recognize me and, being backstage, began to wander around in wonder, staring at all that mysterious "backstage stuff." I learned that his favorite part of the play was when "we danced around and were silly," he gave me a quick run-down of the plot (just in case I missed it) and then I spent a few minutes explaining why we have a lot of ladders backstage. Then a quick photo and they headed out; it was way past Max's nap time. A few days later, I heard from Max's uncle. Apparently, Max had recounted the entire show to him, and made special emphasis of the appearance of pizza on our stage (one of our cows, Loretta, "eats" an entire pizza to calm herself down during the show, and the pie magically disappears.) That second part really made me smile.

With my extended family, it was particularly fun, as I hadn't met either of the girls who were in attendance, and barely knew the husband. The girls, who had kindly skipped school to come see the show, were a little shy (I imagine it's overwhelming to be introduced to your long lost... uh... something, so-many-times removed... heck, are we even blood-relations?), but perked up and seemed excited to have the chance to go backstage and check out the set. There was much interest in our geese puppets, especially since they're made of socks. I was especially happy that the adults enjoyed the show as much as they did. It is often a hard sell to get grown-ups to a "kiddie show," but, on all fronts, the "big kids" have told me that they got as much out of the show as the "little kids."

One of the things I love about performing, particularly for kids, is that I truly feel that I'm giving back in some way. When it's family or friends in the house, that feeling is so much more direct. And the idea that some of the kids I'm introducing to live theater are, in some way, "mine"? Well, that just makes me want to explode with pride and excitement. Those two shows were easily some of the most fun I've had on this tour so far. So, if you're reading this, and you know me, and you live anywhere on the Eastern Seaboard, and you'd like to come see the show, please please please let me know! I'd love to have you.

(Oh, and if you've got kids, bring 'em!)


(Me and Max backstage)

Call tomorrow: TBD, although Alaina said that it'll likely be 6am, the earliest we can be called. And it's a three-show day. And it's local. Hello 4am! How are you?

Kid quote of the day: During the show-stopping "Loretta's Anthem," a kid made the "I Love You" hand sign and started head-banging.

Click Clack Moo Superstars!

A photo essay (and short story) of Click Clack Moo's first autograph signing experience:







And now the tale: It was a little girl's fifth birthday, and she was celebrating at Click Clack Moo! When we found this out, we naturally figured it would be a good idea for the cast to sing her "Happy Birthday." I think Alaina put it best in her Stage Management Report: "The child was so overwhelmed that she burst into tears."

Call tomorrow: 10am, 108th and Amsterdam.

Kid quote of the day: After Jenny's break-out number, a little boy shouted, "Encore!"

Click Clack Moo's Rough Day

It all started the night before, the last of our four days off in NYC. After a charming evening with a friend at the current Broadway production of A Little Night Music, I was greeted by an email on my phone from Alaina:

"Chicken Emergency! ... [T]he laundromat sent our laundry to another establishment somewhere in the Bronx to be cleaned. They sent everything back except Shaun and Ethan's Chicken Corsets (we have the padding)... [T]his other laundromat will not be open until 9AM tomorrow, which doesn't work for us. So, for the next couple days we will need to create our own chicken costumes."

Gulp! I headed home, in search of something, anything, that I might be able to contribute to our "Franken-chicken" costumes. All I had that might even remotely work with the padding was an extra-large t-shirt and a bandana. I packed them, slunk into bed, and hoped for the best.

Next morning, we all met at the vans up at 108th St and 6:15am. Groggy but ready to go, we shipped out for Philly when Aaron revealed that his wife had come through with two ponchos, which fit over our padding perfectly. Once we'd driven to the venue (through traffic), set up our set (double-time, because we were late), checked sound (negotiating two tempermental mics) and changed into our basic skin parts, Shaun and I first got a look at our new outfits. Throw on a bandanna and a tail, and, voila, instant chicken:



It even made the costume change go faster, since I just had to throw the poncho over the padding! So, we went for it! The show started (a little rusty, as we'd had four days off, but still pretty good) and all was progressing swimmingly, up to our chicken scene. Shaun, Colleen and I rapidly changed into chickens backstage and clucked our way out, feeling particularly sassy and girly in our ponchos. However, never having actually tried any of my choreography in this new piece, I was rudely awakened to the limitation of my costume when... um... well, you see, my chicken padding has brown "mounds" over particularly feminine areas of the torso. And, when I raised my arms for my ninja move during the fight, my clucking was drowned out by the "ewws" of elementary school boys. Oops.

Show (and flashing) complete, we broke down, loaded out and piled into our vans, ready for some grub and a trip to Allentown. Yet, all was not right. Our passenger vehicle, named "Proud Mary," wouldn't start -- it appeared her always-precarious battery had finally kicked. Aaron and Alaina attempted a jump, but to no avail. It seems diesel engines require much more finesse than your everyday gasoline car. So, we all grabbed lunch while Alaina called AAA. When we returned with sandwiches, we were greeted with the unfortunate news: Proud Mary probably needed a new battery, so the AAA guy would have to tow her to a Sprinter dealership 30 miles away. Alaina kindly offered to wait with the car and released us upon Philadelphia, so we did what any sane Theatreworks cast would do: we attempted to find a movie.

We finally found our way to a showing of The Hurt Locker at 4pm and, assuming it was going to take at least two hours to fix the car situation, settled in for a great flick. But, exactly 10 minutes in, my phone buzzed with a text from Alaina:

"Tow was able to jump start the van.

Hurray! But, ugh! The movie was already getting good, and we were halfway across town. We pried ourselves away from the screen, flagged down two cabs and raced back to Proud Mary and Cargo Cathy (the latter is our cargo van). Nobody was thrilled with the unfortunate turn of events from the day, and, trying to make the best of it, we trundled our way to Allentown. Where we were greeted with beautiful beds at our Quality Inn, an exceptional (and cheap!) Thai meal at a take-out place that set up tables just for us, and a nice trip to Target afterward.

Amazing how quickly a day can turn around.

Call tomorrow: 7:40, Quality Inn in Allentown, PA.

Kid Quote of the Day: Besides "Eww," after Aaron hit his money note during "Loretta's Anthem," a little boy groaned in amazement: "Wow!" No kidding!

Being One of the Girls

OK, so I'm WAY behind in my posts, but, for the moment, I am held hostage in Syracuse, NY, by a camera without a connecting cable. Shortly, expect tales of a major stage mishap (with a photo) and a photographic entry of Click Clack Moo's Superbowl adventures. But, for now, some thoughts on playing a girl:

This is not my first foray into the feminine side with Theatrework/USA. In fact, in all three shows I have done with them, I have, at one time or another, portrayed a female (twice with the semblance of appropriate anatomy.) For Max & Ruby, it was Gracie the Bunny Scout. In Christmas Carol, I briefly played a buxom Mrs. Fezziwig (whose bosoms were fashioned out of metal pails). And now, in Click Clack Moo, I have the distinction of playing Chicken @3. Not "rooster," but "chicken." Which means a ruffle butt skirt, hips and, of course, boobs:



Theatreworks has their "boys-playing-girls" shtick down: it is funny, but never offensive. I have a hard time thinking of a show they do where, at least once, a boy doesn't play a girl. In fact, all of the guys in this show play female characters at one point or another, and, so far, we've taken no flack for it. Our director Wes noted that, while we do play an opposite gender, it's never explicitly pointed out to the kids, so they (and, more importantly, their adults) accept it without critique. I agree that this is true 99% of the time (I did see a very flamboyant Gracie in a production of Max & Ruby that drew some ire from a more conservative crowd), and I think the key to making these characters work is endowing them with as much heart and truthfulness as possible. It's not a camp performance, nor should it be, even though we are tapping into a little of that for some of the comedy. Sure, I may be a chicken, but I still hate the cows with all my little heart and am determined to destroy them with my chicken ninja powers (oh yes, my chicken has a ninja side!) Sure, Aaron's Loretta is a cow, not a bull, but her simpleness and sweetness is what wins the kids over. And Shaun's bad-ass chicken lady is a hoot, but it's his conviction and sass that keeps 'em laughing, not his chest padding. It's a fun challenge, a neat perk of the job, and a nice way to ensure a few laughs during the show. Plus, I can't think of a more amusing way to answer the question: "How did you get your Equity card?"

Call tomorrow: 7:45am, Parkview East Hotel, Syracuse, NY. The Upstate loop continues...

Kid Quote of the Day: After singing that "I'm also gonna lose my farm," a little girl (who had clearly done her homework) piped-up: "No you're not!" Thanks, kid!

Click Clack Moo Superbowl Party 2010

A photo essay of our trip to Anchor Bar (the home of the Buffalo wing) in Buffalo, NY on Superbowl Sunday:

An "Egg"-cellent Screw Up

I think this photo takes a little explaining.

So, at one point in the show, Farmer Brown has the genius idea to start selling eggs instead of milk, since the cows have gone on strike. There's a bit where I kneel down on the stage, doing a crazy preacher-man bit and then announce to Jenny, "Instead of sellin' lots of milk, I'm sellin' lots of eggs." Not too difficult, right? Well, imagine now that you have said a long tongue-twister immediately beforehand where you mention eggs and milk in different orders four times. And imagine you're tired. Perfect storm, right?

So, as I turned to Jenny to make my famous discovery, the words that came out of my mouth were something like this:

Instead of selling lots of eggs, I'm selling lots of... uh... I'm gonna sell lots of... um... eggs instead of all that milk!

I looked over at the cows and continued my lines, hoping that they would all be able to hold it together, just so I wouldn't burst. Everybody was doing OK (a few smiles, but nothing major), so I kept going, grabbed the EGGS sign from offstage and announced: "Eggs are the new milk!"

And then I dropped the sign.

Frantic to get it back onto its mark, I fumbled around on the ground, picked it up, slammed it against the set and trudged off for my chicken quick change. About halfway through, I started to hear chuckles from onstage, and Colleen, mid-change herself, turned to me and said, "Ethan, you know you put the sign on upside down, right?"



Call tomorrow: Noon at the Calhoun School, Upper West Side. So nice to have a show in the city.

Kid Quote of the Day: Upon the aforementioned sign disaster, a little kid announced, "That's not right!" You said it!

Snow Day!!

It all started like a normal, early, we're-traveling-very-far local show. I awoke at 4:45am, showered, dressed, caffeinated, oatmeal-ed, did my last-minute double-checks, grabbed my suitcase and headed out the door. We had a show scheduled in Easton, PA, and then an overnight in Scranton, where we had an early show the next day. There was some talk of snow, but nothing that seemed terribly threatening. We'd had some blowy, dusty stuff in the city, and I had seen some mention of snow closures in New Jersey on the early local news, but nothing seemed to be worth any second thought.

So, you can imagine my surprise when, at 6:40am, while standing in the waiting area at our garage on 108th St, I found a missed call and a text message from Alaina. It read:

"Our show today was canceled. Go back to sleep and be at the van at 11:00am"

Curious, I called Alaina, who had set up shop at a local Starbucks and inquired. Apparently, Easton-area schools delayed their start time by two hours and, with a new 10am-ish stat time, our 10:30am show was not happening. After a brief debate between the merits of caffeine and sleep, I hopped back on the subway and raced back to my bed in Brooklyn, where I fell asleep to the strains of Good Morning America.

Back at the vans at 11, I learned that Grace, Alaina and Colleen had spent their nearly-five hours together at a Starbucks, while Claire had camped out at an organic coffee shop near a friend's apartment. Seems the guys were the only ones to catch a few more winks. And, finding a max snow covering of about a quarter inch during our entire drive, we began to question the reasoning of this show cancellation. "No matter," I said. "We just earned ourselves a snow day."

Scranton was our final destination, and we took it by storm. Our Priceline-picked Holiday Inn provided a pool and hot tub, but we were all ready for some more action first. Our two freshly-minted vegetarians headed to an organic/vegan cafe in downtown Scranton, Colleen worked out, and the gentlemen plus Alaina made our way for burgers and BBQ chicken tenders at a local Friendly's (after a wild goose chase to find "The Loading Dock," a closed, and moderately shady, bar recommended by our hotel). Between their unfortunately-named "Happy Ending" sundaes and the dry cleaner on the corner encouraging passersby to "drop your pants here," we were all in good spirits as we headed to check out The Book of Eli at a local multiplex. (But not before a rousing game of Rock Band and Dance Dance Revolution at the attached arcade!)

Home, worked out, whirl-pooled and hungry, we convened for a light dinner at the attached bar, made fun of the American Idol contestants with the locals, and then decided to turn in. All in all, a great day!

In my experience, these days off together are so important. With all of the local shows we've had, it's been hard to get together as a company (or even small groups) for a drink, a laugh, a movie and a serious DDR competition. In rehearsal, actors are very different people than they are in real life, and it was so nice to let down the guard and really get to see the members of this company in the "real world." It reminds me why I love touring, and why I am particularly fond of this cast. If this is the kind of fun we have during the first four weeks, I can only imagine what we're in for once we get down to Florida!

Call tomorrow: 7:40am, Holiday Inn, Scranton, PA. Kiddies need a show!

Kid quote of the day: Immediately following Jenny's departure, I realize that "I've ruined everything!" A this point, a little girl shot up from her seat, index finger raised and announced, proudly, "OK, I got this! Here's what you gotta do." At this point a teacher silenced her, but I was truly intrigued to hear her solution to my problems.