Leavin Clevelin

Oh, yes, I am.


I still have more to bitch and moan about.  And I will.  Although it will have sadly lost its cathartic immediacy.


No one died.  No one got sick.  No one got hurt.


And the sun was out for all of 5 hours.


HOME.

Papa Can You Hear Me?

I was going to title the post "Can You Hear Me Now?" but a beloved colleague threw this one out there.


It's a better choice.


Not the best choice?  Sound dude missing 2 of 3 V.I.E.  And that means Very Important Entrances.  For 5 line scenes.  In the space of a minute and a half.


Mine of course.  And I like sound dude.


Accidents happen.  I know that.  But 66% of my entrances in a scene?  I always enter at the same time.  It's not like I'm surprising anyone.  We're in our 4th week.


Come ON!


Talk to me.  I'm fucking frustrated.


Talk to me.  But make sure your mic is on.

Today

is the final brat mat for the dog and pony show.


A day that start with a half hour of 10 am and a curtain down of 10 pm is too long a day, dagnatbit.


IT'S THE LAST ONE!!!

Sanity Break

Home for the 9th hour out of 30 and I already feel like a new person...or at least the old me.


This is good.


Wasn't easy getting here.  More on the madness tomorrow.

Letter to My Agent

dear di-

 

i'm so glad you got to see me...

a) change my colleague's shoes.

2) move sets

c) not only light a scene but FIX a major lighting instrument.

4) do foley (i'm awfully proud of the baby burp)

e.2) change wigs more often than a drag queen.

lah de dah.  it was great to see you. sorry i was in such a weird mood at dinner.  a potent concoction of  pms, having little pride in myself and the show and being exhausted by the lack of sun and constant weather assault.

but it was great seeing you and i appreciate you dragging your skinny ass to the bowels of the earth.

hope you had a safe flight back.

tons,

me

Back to Square

One Preview.


That's what last night felt like...a first preview in a new city.  


Stage unpainted - one actor (titular character) down due to the slip and slide.  She'd been begging five days for the floor to be stickied.  Seemed the crew couldn't get to it because they were behind on the set for the show that isn't opening for four weeks. Once they were knees, now they're garbage.


Screens and flies not where they belonged (causing actor scramble) because


I think the fly guy was on the 2nd story rail where the work light was left on...killing every black out in the show.


Prop flowers falling apart, prompting me to sing "Mama had a baby and its head popped off"...in my head.  Too professional to sing it out loud.  For the paying public, all I did was corpse.


Dressers not where they needed to be for quick changes.


Fascinating.


One of the spot ops commented to a colleague, "You know...Tom Hanks said that's why he prefers theater to film...'cause anything can happen.  Tom Hanks!"


Yes.  But he didn't say everything would happen.


Yes.  And I'm sure he never worked at this gymnatorium.

Reviews

I tend to stay away from them 'til the end of a run.  Easier that way.  Less to worry about.


But there's one a savvy colleague has circulated because it's...just...well...fucking funny.


A few excerpts--


Pinned on the bulletin board in these groves of musical-theater academia will be Wanted: Dead of Alive posters of those notorious "______________" creators ___________ and ________________.



There is another useful purpose for "_____________." It is a shining example for theater professors across the land of how not to create a musical. 


I don't think they enjoyed their evening at the theater.

The Chocolate Chip Cookie Pie Test

You can tell the spirits of a crew by my magical chocolate chip cookie pie.  If they thank me for making it, they're normal and happy.  If they DON'T thank me, then they've had the ever-living crap beaten out of them.


They did not thank me here.  Not a one.   And no, it's not because my magical chocolate chip cookie pie sucked.  How can butter, eggs, sugar and chocolate EVER suck?  Even when using an Easy Bake Oven...  


This has only happened at one other theater.  And it has to do with either the Artistic Director who sets the tone for everything, or the stage manager who is their immediate superior.


Stage manager here is a living doll.  Really the real thing.


Step it up, Artistic Director Man.  You've failed the Chocolate Chip Cookie Pie Test.

I Was Thinking

I would have to discontinue as everything would be easy peasy lemon squeezy after opening.

Think again.

Difficult difficult lemon difficult.

Stay tuned.

Opening

Venne, Vidi, Vinci.


It's almost impossible for me to write it that way as I joked for so many years...


Vidi, Vinci, Venne.


I joke in latin.


Geeksville.


Well...it Venne without a hitch...from what I could Vidi.


And as promised, I did not attend the opes party.  Even though the stage manager (me likey) found a ticket for my guest at 5:30, my guest had made other plans (days ago).


Artistic Director Man supposedly missed me and was befuddled.


Awesome.


We are known by our company of friends, and I don't want to be associated with him.  Churlish, childish and petulant am I.  And I know it.


But it is my life, my career and definitely my free time post-show.  




Vinci.








(And to be honest, cause that what this blog is for...my left eyeball feels like jumping ship every time I walk into the theater complex.  I don't know if it's the sahara heat or the ancient system is polluted, but it takes eyedrops every time I hit the dressing room to get through the show.  No extra-curricular for me.)

What About Me?

What About Me? - Moving Pictures


Well there's a little boy waiting at the counter of the corner shop
He's been waiting down there, waiting half the day,
They never ever see him from the top
He gets pushed around, knocked to the ground,
He gets to his feet and he says...


CHORUS:
What about me? It isn't fair
I've had enough, now I want my share
Can't you see, I wanna live
But you just take more than you give


Always hated that song.  Not as much as "Christmas Shoes," but I hate it pretty hard.  Always felt whiny.


I'M LIVING IT.


This joint is so weird...seemingly in their treatment of me.


Back in December I noticed that I was listed as ensemble in the press.  I wrote the press director, "As gifted as I am, I do not have the skills to be an ensemble member.  Please remove that from all press releases and the program."


She wrote back, "In looking at the BroadwayWorld article, they took “literary license” and did not reprint our release word-for-word. So, I can assure you that in our materials, we have you as “others.”"


Because I am who I am, I took a gander at their press release this morning (I was who I am just a little late) only to see me LISTED AS ENSEMBLE.


When you ASSURE, you make an ASS out of U and...whatever.


She apologized.  


I'm honest to JesusMaryandJoseph tired of apologies.  There's a damn toe-nail that doesn't belong to me taking over my world.


The damn dressing rooms were 85 degrees last night and every cast member was brought a fan...but me.


When my damn eyeball dehydrated to the point of vision loss last week, every cast member was brought a vaporizer for the dressing room.  Every cast member but me.  I then requested one.  The stage manager finally brought it as wardrobe hadn't.


I have one damn pair of damn tights.  They have none in stock.  This is a dance show-what are you thinking?


When wardrobe lost my damn belt, it took them THREE DAYS to replace it.


During one of my quick changes, damn dresser insists upon hanging up some of the guys' clothes instead of doing my quick change.


I am Mrs. Cellophane.


Conversation last night with colleague...


"Don't they have any idea how well I tip?"


"No."


"And they never will."


Shame I can't stiff the press director as well.

Dead Horse

I know...I know...I'm beating one.


But who wouldn't given this...

Yes, my friends.  That is one GINORMOUS toe-nail.  

No, it is not my toe-nail.

No, I do not know who it belongs to.

This is what I mean by not feeling welcome.

I Joked

when I first arrived here, through my tears of course, about many things, including the fact that my oven was so small it was an Easy Bake Oven...with a handy 45 watt bulb in the back.


Damned spot-on humor.


I went to bake my pie (I'm not being euphemistic), my signature pie (again...not a euphemism), a chocolate chip cookie pie (told ya), and it took 10 hours.


10.


Oh, I am not exaggerating for comedic effect.  


And it was an important pie (STOP IT!).  Our musical director's birthday pie (okay...go for it.).


I believe I gave salmonella poisoning to my colleagues.


Bring on the understudies!!

Third Preview

Went off without a hitch.  In fact, I'm fearing the audience likes me better WITH my glasses...


"The little blind-girl who could."


In fact I know they do.


I wish I understood it.


What you may not understand is that the charming artistic director actually assaulted a reviewer a number of years ago...on theater premises.


Awghhhsome.


Day off.


Sleep.

Second Preview

Our tech director supposedly broke his leg immediately following the performance.


Title of Show--Bring on the Dark.


Worst thing that happened to ME was that the theater did not see fit to hold onto any opening night comps (although 2 were promised) for the cast members.  So, unless my guests get in, I'm skipping the opening night party.


Measly in comparison.  I know.


Poor tech director. 

First Preview

Exciting for so many reasons...


First...I was in a spectacle in my spectacles.


The stage is soooo dry (we were warned in Arizona...not here) and the dressing rooms soooo dry (boiler broke so we have space heaters or else it's 50 degrees) that my eyeballs dried out, became inflamed and I lost vision.  This happened last year so I know the drill and we high-tailed it over to a clinic.  The doc gave me a hard time and I wondered, "Do you think I'm ocular drug-seeking?  Yes...give me those morphine drops.  I wanna see the pretty colors."


I got my gooey bacitracin and high-tailed it back to the theater where I was told "Wear the glasses.  We can't afford to lose you."


So, I did.  I still couldn't see but he audience seemed to forget they were there.  YAY!


The audience may not have forgotten that actors could not get on or offstage at times because we're two people down on the crew and shit just weren't right.


At least the only railroad spike fly moment was during the five-hour afternoon rehearsal.  The one where we all yelled, "Whoah..."  All of us...because we were all onstage.  Near it.


What I (me, myself) couldn't forget was the unfortunate "pep"-talk by the Artistic Director. I question the wisdom of anyone who accuses the cast of not giving as much as they did in the first city (where he saw our first preview that was run on a potent concoction of adrenaline and sheer fear).  I question the wisdom of an Artistic Director who singles me out for a lack of energy.  


#1  Singling ANYONE out.  Scapegoaterie does not suit the situation.


#2  Singling me out because...well...if my energy is down I'm still pretty much at 95%.  My nickname is 110%.


I was supposedly quite gracious about it.  


Best part?  My colleagues were more offended than I was.  My lips took the brunt of it though.  Two cold sores.  One immediate.


And then he caps the evening by keeping us waiting (during their tech meeting) AFTER the performance.  After we've been there 10 hours.  We finally went out onstage with our coats and bags after 20 minutes.  His response?


"Good start."


Not like we haven't been doing the show 21 weeks.


Bite my ever-expanding ass, Artistic Director Man.

Off-Road Driving

What I DIDN'T mention in my first bitchorama is that we were made to put a $500 deposit (uncashed) for insurance deductible purposes on the company vehicles.


This probably falls under 3--the header "ridiculous conditions in the rider," herewithin known as "ridiculous rider." 


The ridiculous rider that came ridiculously late.


Now I write "made to."  It is true I did not have to sign this contract.  And I came perilously close.  However, if I had proceeded down that lovely road, there would have been 4 theaters that never hired me again, 2 directors and 2 choreographers.


So, we included in the rider, "This deposit will not be used in any damage done to the automobile due to inclement weather.  In addition, the theater will provide transportation in inclement weather."


I am in a city where it snows.  A lot.  I've been here 4 days and  snow 3 days.  Last night quite excitingly so.  We were not aware of the deluge as we had been inside for a number of hours teching.


Was there transportation provided by the theater?


Guess.








P.S.  We may be having a guest blogger or two.  WHEEEEEE!

Off-Road Blogging

Because I be who I be, I brought up the "wig runner" issue with stage management.


I like the stage manager.  She looks like she's 12, is all cheery, but when the fly guy rams his 3rd set piece into the stage at the speed and intensity of a railroad spike, she becomes laser beam focused.


Regarding the wig runner she was kind.  She listened to my concerns...even the one where I said, "It's not making me feel very special." 


She offered reasons that it happened (paperwork snafu), some solutions (we can dedicate a rehearsal to make it work), but there will be no wig-runner.  Seems in this economy they can't find someone to do it.


?


But she came into the dressing room at the end of tech and said, "You were really good today."


And that made me feel a little special.


Every little bit helps.

I'm Unplugged

Last time I blogged and discussed 50% disgust at the way I was being treated by a theater, I spent a whole chunk o' time trying to calm some peops the fuck down.  And I couldn't figure out why.  It's not like my name was attached.  It's not like the theater's name was attached.  It's not like I use ANY NAMES ANYWHERE EVER.


But it freaked some people the fuck out and they made my life difficult.


And it's difficult enough already.


We've discussed in other environs how much I love my job.  I do.  I express the human condition. Perhaps an audience member's life is changed by something I illuminate.


But probably not in this show.


But sometimes.


It is hard traveling.


Hard.


And there are ways that theaters can make you feel welcome.


I'm going to point out the ways to make me (and perhaps any actor) feel unwelcome and not special...AT ALL.


1. Don't get the contracts to my agent until 2 1/2 weeks before the gig when you've known I'm coming for the past 8 months.


2. Claim that you've been too busy to get the contracts out.


3. Include ridiculous conditions in your rider.


4. Offer me a salary cut on my fourth and final theater of a co-production.


5. Then claim you were waiting for Equity to send you the wording for the pay bump. (Come on...you were just hoping we weren't actually READING the contract.  Admit it.)


6. Have your company manager meet me at the airport with the greeting, "Oh, you know people in town?  Good.  Then you won't call me when you need something."


7. Give me an apartment where one of the couches is massively suspicious.


8. Give me an apartment where the dishes are dirty from the previous tenant.


9. Where the bathtub is filthy.


10.Where the floors are sticky.


11. Tell me I have an understudy, put it in the contract, and then rescind the offer.


12. Then Rescind the rescind (but not really...).


And the piece de resistance...


11. Decide that I don't need a wig runner when I have 15 costume and 12 wig changes...most of them under the category of "quick change." Decide this unilaterally.  My character changes are not parlor tricks like THE 39 STEPS.  I play actual people.


Not feeling special...


Not feeling welcome...


Boo.


Thanks for reading.  Thanks for signing up for the off-road edition of la blogue.


It's a bitchfest.