Thursday, December 15, 2011

Musicals, and Theatre Company B

I don't sing.  To be more accurate, my singing is rather poor.  It's one of those ironies, then, that I have never been turned away when I have auditioned for a musical.  This isn't all that surprising, though.  For several years, I was involved with a Gilbert and Sullivan group.  This group was always desperate for people, so I could always count on a part.  Another thing about musicals is that there are these things called "choruses": my singing might be bad, but it's not so bad that people can hear me in the middle of a crowd of a chorus.

This leads to Theatre Company B.  I have a good history with Theatre Company B, and I consider the people that run this company to be my friends.  That said, Theatre Company B specializes in musicals. 

I met them when I auditioned, as a lark, for "Godspell".  I got a part (I later discovered that as a matter of policy, they give everyone that auditions a part).  This was fun, but "Godspell" isn't much of a play.  It doesn't even pretend to be.  The cast consists of Jesus, the combination John the Baptist and Judas, and "everyone else".  We can add drama here or there, but the only character that grows at all is Judas, and even that is underplayed.  In drama class back in college, the professor would probably have labeled "Godspell" as a "pageant", instead of a play. 

But it was still a great deal of fun. 

I skipped the next play Theatre Company B did, which was "Hairspray".  Now, I LIKE "Hairspray".  It has an interesting plot and interesting characters: it holds its own as a play.  I saw their performance twice.  Sure, there were more than a few things that seemed a bit amateurish.  Sure, they spent a ton of money getting an LED curtain (the curtain could display images that they assembled on a computer) which added absolutely nothing to the show.  But, there was tons of heart in this performance, and the "fun" was contageous. 

So, I auditioned for the next show, "42nd Street".  Unfortunately, this show flopped.  The sad thing about this is that the weeks after the show closed, people would ask me what I was up to.  When I said "We just finished '42nd Street'", I heard SO MANY people remark that they loved "42nd Street", and I saw that they were disappointed that they missed our performance.  I think the problem here is that Theatre Company B didn't have any publicity.  No reviewer came out to see the show.  There was no mentioning in any local paper.  In fact, I have never seen a review of any of their shows.

Now, the good news about Theatre Company B is that they are one of the few theatre companies that actually practices color blind casting.  That is why I found myself cast as Abner Dillon, a Texan millionaire.  The bad news is that they specialize in musicals.  Since I don't sing, I'm not likely to get a lead part.  That said, most musicals don't seem to have parts that are challenging. 

With "42nd Street", I saw this front and center.  Theatre Company B has a team of four directors working together.  The problem was that three of those four directors were in the show.  Another problem was that a great deal of time was put into the dance routines -- one of the directors actually spent a month teaching the cast how to tap dance in preparation for this show.  Something had to give, and something did: the acting.  Several actors were slurring their lines, and no one seemed to notice.  Many performances were stiff.  I received almost no direction: in the whole production -- from rehearsal to the final performance -- I received a grand total of two "notes".  And no, I don't think it was because I was perfect. 

I consider "42nd Street" to be an example of a bad play.  It might be fine as a musical, given that it's largely just a cascade of musical numbers.  I remarked to the woman playing Dorothy Brock that there were only four characters in the cast that had actual personalities, and we were two of them.  I was wrong: there were only two characters.  Julian Marsh was a grumpy guy yelling at people, and he evolved during the course of the play into a grumpy guy yelling at people.  The man playing this part did take it on himself to add some depth to this character towards the end, but between the lackluster script and the lack of direction, he was on his own.  Billy existed only to do some tap numbers, and was completely forgettable.  Peggy was possibly one of the worst lead characters I've ever seen.  She was daffy and dumb, but could dance really well.  She did absolutely nothing in the play: things seemed to happen to her, leading to her getting a part and eventually becoming the lead, but she did nothing to bring about any of this.  The actors playing these parts all did as fine a job as possible, but the play itself didn't give them much to work with.

So, there I was, Abner Dillon.  This character is usually played for laughs.  He's rich but stupid, being used by Dorothy so that she can get him to finance a play and make her a star again.  I watched the way Dorothy treated him through the first act, and I realized something: I didn't find any of this funny!  There was nothing funny about a man thinking a woman loves him, only to find he's being used.  There's nothing funny about a broken heart.  There is a crucial scene where Dorothy is upset because she can't get ahold of the man with whom she's having an affair.  She's drunk, and is rude to Abner.  Abner has enough and tells her off.  She splashes a drink on his face and storms away.  Abner declares that she is out of the show.  Julian sends two chorus girls to butter up Abner, and then sends one of the writers of the show to seduce him, in order to convince him to let the show go on.  Ugh!  This is meant to be funny?

I played that scene seriously.  I saw Abner as not being stupid; he had suspicions as to what Dorothy was doing, and it hurt.  When he finally confronted her, I had him yell (everyone on stage jumped when I did that).  The rest of the cast took the cue.  Instead of chorus girls buttering me up, they instead pleaded with me to not end the show.  I played off them, and had Abner, despite being hurt, being unable to bring himself to put them all out of work.  Instead of the writer seducing me, it became a friendly gesture: she saw I was hurt and wanted to help me feel better. 

Boom!  I played that scene differently than anyone had ever played it.  And it worked!  We managed to give the show an emotional core that it sorely lacked. 

And . . . ready for it?

No one cared. 

When I decided to play the scene this way, I was prepared for the directors to say "no, can we play it more traditionally?"  But no one did.  In fact, no one had anything to say about that scene.  Despite all the preparation for the show, they somehow forgot to get me a costume.  A week and a half before opening night, I saw that there was NO costume for me.  I rushed out and bought costumes at my own expense.  I have no idea when I will use cowboy boots again, but hey, they're there.  During the run, after the final curtain call, when we would go to mingle with the audience, I saw people look at me as though they were trying to remember what part I had played. 

I thought about my character.  I built my character.  And no one cared.  All that mattered were a few more mindless musical numbers.  Oh, and by the way, I was stuck with almost $200 in cowboy costumes, which amounted to $20 for each minute I was on stage. 

I performed with friends of mine.  I performed with my kids.  And by opening night, I found that I didn't care at all either.  I did my part -- I played my role and I played it well -- but when no one gives a damn about your part, how can you?

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