Monday, September 19, 2011

Sorry Dad.

These are stanchions. They are heave as F**K. So can someone explain why they're the only real piece of set this company invested in?!
There's no better way to feel elite or exclusive than the creation of inside jokes.

During a rehearsal process, the cast crosses the threshold of inside-jokery sometime around the conclusion of the first week when the "I don't know you but you  might be prettier than me" jitters start to go away (after extensive comparison of physical assets in the studio mirrors). After crossing the threshold of inside-jokery, all hell breaks loose. The cast can no longer be controlled. Progress is at an all time low, and one begins to wonder if the entire show can ever possibly be blocked at such a rate.

Right on cue (and about the only cue we hit on time) my cast has finally crossed the threshold.

Did you know that our creative team thought we had another entire week of rehearsal? Maybe that explains why they haven't literally beaten us to a pulp yet. But get the buckets ready, because from here on out we'll be puking backstage between numbers.

But now that we have entered our second and final week of rehearsal, I can tell that the next three months are going to be nothing short of pant-pissing hilarious, and that's just from what comes out of our stage manager's mouth. In fact, she doesn't even need to open her mouth. One glare from her "OH NO YOU DIDN'T" stare and you're not sure whether to cross your legs because you're gonna pant-piss laugh or because she's gonna sucker-punch your gonads.

Maybe if I stop rewriting my lines to sound more "Effie White" she'll stop glaring at me.

Did  you know she drives a Mercedes? She's probably taking it on the road with us. She got it for free. Why? BECAUSE SHE'S AWESOME. No seriously, some dude just loved her and gave her a Mercedes. On her last tour, they toted around a rocking chair just because she mentioned she liked sitting in it. So the crew would package it up and deliver it to her hotel room at every stop. She's like Oprah...if Oprah were funny and didn't have a billion dollars...but probably just as powerful.

And then there's the cast. We've been split into camps (so WWII I know). We have: 1. Team Short/Dancers, 2. Tall Tall/Movers, and 3. The Girl...who somehow, though vital to the story line, never seems to have any blocking.

I happen to be on 1. Team Short/Dancers...which is somehow the complete opposite of any former categorization of Musical Theatre team I've ever been on...which is somehow telling me I have no clear future in this business...

Short Team/Dancers are allowed to do turns, tumbling, and dramatic leaps/falls. Tall Team/Movers are allowed to do rhythmic walking and arm-ography. I think it's an insurance thing. The Girl is only allowed to stand her ground and belt her face off.

Back to rehearsal with the adorable yet incredibly intimidating director:

Me: "Sorry, when was my cue?"
Director: "About right when you gave the punchline to that joke backstage to Jeremy. Wanna share it with the rest of us? I bet it won't be as funny then."
Jeremy: "...No, it would be just as funny then..."
Director: *glare*

Director: "Tyler, the point is you're doing moves in this song that a WWF wrestler would do! Do something tough a wrestler would do!"
Me: "Like...sing?"
Director: *glare*

And then, on a break from our dramatic leaps and rhythmic walking and things a singing wrestler would do, our sassy-eyed stage manager stopped and said what every cast hopes to hear...

"**important information I should have been listening to blah blah**we're a family**blah blah"...

because that's when you know she's not going to rat your ass out in the rehearsal reports for being late.

Thanks girl!! Say hey to Laurence Fishburne for me!

NOTE: For those of you worried about not being able to see this pant-pissing worthy tour, don't worry. They've already signed on for a 4th National Tour in the Spring of 2012. The show that no one knows but never dies. I guess that's what happens when there's buzz of you performing at the White House for Christmas...

Sorry Dad (it's hilarious and you feel excluded because you don't get it),

TJB: Making It















No comments:

Post a Comment