Why I’ll Be Insufferable For A Month

The play is over. We closed this evening to a standing-room-only crowd. It was our best show of the entire run, and we all came out of it feeling extremely proud of ourselves. Well we should! We worked hard and strung this show together with less resources than I ever would have believed possible. Donna recruited people off the streets, we begged, borrowed and stole (well, probably not) to get all the set, props, and costumes we needed. The whole community turned out to make this thing a stellar success.

After finishing, there was the handing out of acknowledgments and favors. Donna, amazing as she is, managed to hand-write personal notes to every single person in the (60+)-person company. Dave (our Tevye) went out and had OSCARS made for everyone in the cast. (I have an Oscar! hahaha! Ssh, don’t tell the Academy. I bet they’d object.)

Then we moved over to a local pizza joint (the fabulous Pizza Lab, owned by cast member Jeff Snedeker) to party and send ourselves out in style.

The compliments I received all throughout the day were enough to cause a girl to blush even through the plentiful makeup she was already wearing. My prize for favorite compliment goes to Thomas (Motel, my in-play husband) for this gem:

Dustin: Nice work falling in love with my wife.

Thomas: Thank you! It wasn’t difficult.

Laura: Awww! *blush*

Donna complimented my eyebrows, saying even they managed to stay in character. She also said many many other wonderful things, which I won’t repeat here because there’s a point at which talking about how wonderful one’s self is becomes impolite. Music Director Dean Peterson has always been fantastically supportive. He manages to make me feel like he’s my number one fan, and the best part is that I suspect he makes everyone else feel just the same way. Why can’t more people in the world be like that?

My heart is absolutely full of positive energy tonight. I feel like I’ve been a part of a really wonderful thing. Not just any part, either, but a part that really made a difference and touched some others in the process.

So THIS is what I was missing in high school theater. And no wonder theater is so addictive.

And though I’m sad it’s over, I know that you can have too much of a good thing. We’ll just have to find some other show and give it another go. So for any of you fellow company members who are reading this – thank you SO much for the wonderful experience. We kicked some serious booty with this show, and I look forward to having a chance to do it again.

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Dreams of Theater Doom

The play is fast approaching. At this point, most sane people would be having dreams of walking out on stage naked, forgetting their lines, or forgetting which play they’re in. I got those dreams over with a month ago. (After we first choreographed the Matchmaker song, I had a dream that we decided to go ahead and perform the show the next day, and I was nervous that we’d only rehearsed it once. I thought I would be okay, until I realized that I was wearing a costume from the wrong show and I didn’t even know when to enter for the scene.)

Instead of dreaming normal dreams of theater doom, I’m dreaming of total doom. Here’s how it goes:

Some coworkers and I went shopping at Pier 39 in San Fransisco. We were in a giant Ikea which was selling pets and boots and things that I thought I already owned. I decided to buy a pair of boots because I realized the ones I was wearing in the play had zippers on them, and that was not very appropriate to the period. (Of course, the boots I bought were purple, but this didn’t trouble me very much.)

We came out of the store and went back to the car, which was being chauffeured by my coworker’s husband. She had to go back into the store to find her daughter, who had been practicing her lines with one of the cashiers (who also happened to be my brother). I stared out the car window as I waited for them to come back, and realized there was something horribly wrong with the sky. It was a bit foggy, so I couldn’t tell immediately what it was, but soon I managed to figure out that what I was seeing was two jet-trails that were perfectly perpendicular against the horizon and went up so far I couldn’t tell where they ended.

I was just starting to think it was strange that they weren’t fading away when three new jets burst out from behind the horizon. I realized Ellsworth Air Force Base must be back there, because the jet in the center – a very oddly-shaped blue affair covered with decals and bumper stickers like a race car might be – was actually a B-1 Bomber. As I watched, all three planes did a loop which carried them far too close to the Pier. I knew they were going to crash.

The B-1 slammed upside-down into one of the buildings several blocks down from where we were. The other two planes just barely missed and flew off. Debris from the crash pelted the car, but we were too far away to suffer any serious damage from the initial explosion.

But I knew that wasn’t the worst of it. “Get down!” I shouted to everyone in the car. I knew there were nuclear bombs on the B-1, and I knew they were going to explode. Duck and cover, that’s what you were supposed to do, right? The mushroom cloud was just starting to bloom. I grabbed a knitted shawl and pulled it over my head, trying to hunker down in the footwell. I was sad because I knew we were all probably going to die. The car was shaking and rocking and continued to be pelted with debris. I wondered if we should get up and try to make a run for it, or if the car would protect us.

I peeked my head up and realized that we were speeding down a crowded interstate at near-death speeds, and I couldn’t help wonder if that was any safer than just staying where we were. I was sad because my coworker, her daughter, and my brother had not made it back to the car.

The end. I woke up. Believe it or not, this dream was totally about the play. My poor subconscious is so pessimistic. I’m not nearly that pessimistic while I’m awake! At this point, I think the very worst that could happen is we could run really overtime (Fiddler on the Roof in a special three-hour presentation!) but other than that, we all know our parts, we all have our costumes, we’re all doing a great job.

So… the summary of this post is, come see my play!

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Livin’ the Dream

We’re famous!

Lead opera house goes on with the show

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Lead opera house goes on with the show

Okay, being on local news doesn’t exactly qualify as famous, but it does make me feel extra cool. (Ten points if you can pick me out of the crowd! Hint: I’m not blonde and I can’t really sing.)

And to be fair, it really isn’t we who are the stars of this little report, it’s the Opera House itself. Built in 1914 and burned down in 1984, it is a beautiful wreck of a place. That’s probably a little more extreme than it deserves. Parts of it have been completely restored and look fantastic. The stage itself is a bit rough.

It looks a bit better now than it does in this photo, which is a few years old, but there is a lot of work left to be done, so they’re looking for funds. Hard to blame them! Being part of the first community production to happen at the Opera House for over twenty years, I’d like some lights and sound equipment too (especially since I’ve been well-informed about the pitiful state of my diaphragm. I’ll be hopeless without at least a mike dangling somewhere nearby…).

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Tzeitel!

I did it! I win! I got a part! I got THE part! I’m going to be Tzeitel in the upcoming Lead-Deadwood production of Fiddler on the Roof.

Wheeeeeee!

(And incidentally, here’s a funny thing):

I am Tzeitel!

Take the Fiddler on the Roof quiz at ChaiSpace.com

Okay, here’s a recap of auditions. It wasn’t nearly as dire as my conversation with Tom led me to believe. There had been a gap in communication somewhere, resulting in a much more normal audition than I’d been expecting. The director was in town, the parts had not yet been cast, and there was singing involved.

And I have decided: I love community theater. Every other theater experience I’ve had, whether it was at a church when I was 10, high school, or college, getting into a play has been about who has the most talent, who has the most friends, or who is sleeping with the director. (Haha, okay, not really.) But in a production where your potential cast pool consists of a community of 4,200 – of whom only 40 show up for auditions (and some are just there with their kids) – the production actually has nothing to do with talent. Instead, it is completely about interest and commitment and having a great time. You’re not making do with second-rate talent, you are celebrating that at least you got as much talent as you did, and probably without the attitudes that come along with (some) truly talented people.

This is going to be fun. I’m going to giggle when things don’t go perfectly, delight in the fact that none of the actors can handle dialects, and appreciate the irony that the “older man” I’ll be marrying will probably be a high school student ten years younger than I am. And I’m going to drag Sharon along with me. We had a little pep talk this morning where I reminded her that this isn’t Broadway. The point, truly, is to have fun.

Hooray! I’m in a musical!

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Auditioning for a Dream

Auditions for my dream are tonight after work. Or perhaps I should say “auditions.”

I wasn’t able to go to the Information Session myself, so I sent Sharon’s husband, Tom, on a reconnaissance mission. Here’s roughly how the conversation went when he called to report his findings:

Tom: So let’s see… for the auditions, you don’t need to do anything special. She said it’s “come as you are.”

Laura: Okay, did she say what we’d be singing?

Tom: You don’t have to have a prepared piece. You just come, and then if you’re wanting one of the main parts, maybe you’ll sing something.

Laura: “Maybe?” Okay, weird. What else?

Tom: The first rehearsal will be a week from Sunday, from 7-9.

Laura: On a Sunday? Gah. Okay. And after that?

Tom: Well, they won’t decide on a schedule until they have a cast, and can find out what will work for everyone. I guess that’s everyone, isn’t it?

Laura: Oh great. They’re casting everyone who turns up for auditions and think they can coordinate all those schedules?

Tom: Haha. Yeah well, maybe just the main characters. She didn’t know when the cast list would be announced, because the director isn’t here yet. She’s coming into town some time next week.

Laura: Huh? So who’s running the auditions?

Tom: Maybe the music director? She’s a student from Black Hills State University.

Laura: This gets better and better.

Tom: So I think for the first few rehearsals the main characters will just be on their own, maybe work with the music director until the real director comes.

Laura: And show times?

Tom: First three weekends in May – Friday, Saturday and Sunday. The last weekend might depend on how many people came to the show on the other weekends though.

Laura: Okay, I’ll remind my family not to bring tomatoes. So let me just recap: I don’t need to prepare a song, and might not even have to sing.

Tom: Right. Oh, she did say they still need a Golde.

Laura: I can’t be Golde! I’m, like, 12! But say… I know someone else who could be a great Golde…

Tom: I think I know who you’re talking about. You’ll lean on her a little, right?

Laura: I’m working on it. Now wait a sec… if they still need a Golde, does that mean they’ve already picked the cast??

Tom: Uh… I don’t know. She just said they still need a Golde.

Laura: This is going to be the craziest play I’ve ever tried to be in. Thanks for all your help, Tom.

(My apologies to Tom… this conversation was completely reconstituted from memory about six hours after the fact.)

So let me recap again: the auditions are tonight, but I maybe don’t have to sing, and maybe there aren’t even any parts left to audition for, and it doesn’t matter much anyway because the director won’t even be there? This has the makings of an absolute disaster!

I’m trying to keep all this in perspective, because I really don’t want to audition, wind up a Villager, and be disappointed about that. I say I’d settle for anything, but in honesty, I’d like a real part. I’ve convinced myself over the last few days that I deserve a real part. But maybe it’s an Old Boys Club and the music director already knows everyone involved and has the cast list figured out before anyone even shows up. I’m sure not good enough to blow THAT sort of thing away. So! I hereby declare this an Experiment In Social Chaos, and promise not to be annoyed when I’m passed over for someone who will clearly have less talent than I do.

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My Dream About to Come True?

I joke about the fact that I don’t have any goals. For the most part, this is sadly true. I’m pretty much content to roll with whatever life throws at me. I have no career ambitions, no skills I want to take to the Next Level. But I do have things that I wish I could do, and would do if I had the time and/or talent.

One of those goals (dreams?) is to be in a musical.

Okay, stop laughing and listen. I’m serious! When I was 10 years old, I was in a musical called “Adam’s Apple” about everyone’s favorite sinners, Adam and Eve. I got to to be Eve. I wore pink tights and a long pink shirt with green felt leaves glued around my waist and chest. I got to sing two solos. I can remember all the words to this day. I’m sure I was very cute. The following year, at the ripe old age of 11, I was scheduled to play Lydia in another Biblically-themed musical. Before we even got around to rehearsals, though, our music director abandoned ship and the show died.

Thus ended my marvelous stage career.

I arrived in high school full of confidence and enthusiasm. I was given a bit part in a play during my freshman year, but when musical auditions rolled around, I fell flat on my face. Nerves kill me. As a senior, I got my second chance and had (I think) I kick-booty audition, but I wasn’t cast. I asked why, and the drama teacher told me I was too short. Too short for the chorus?!? I remained bitter for the remainder of my high school career. I still occasionally have dreams where this bitterness resurfaces, usually in the form of returning to my high school as some sort of musical star, much to the embarrassment of said drama teacher.

In college I was cast in four plays, as a dancer in each one. I was such a good dancer, they cast me even when there were no dancing parts called for. It was fun, the directors loved me, and I was happy. I flopped the audition my freshman year for Into the Woods (I SO could have been Red Riding Hood!) and junior year when they did Cabaret (a DANCING musical no less!) I was studying abroad. Woe for shattered dreams!

And so I am left with this unfulfilled desire to be in another musical – to prove to myself that hitting puberty didn’t rob me of all talent. And what comes my way?

Compliments of my coworker Sharon, who played a Mama in high school, from her husband who thinks it’s time for her to reprise her roll:

FIDDLER ON THE ROOF AUDITIONS!

The Historic Deadwood Lead Arts Council (HDLAC) and the Historic Homestake Opera House (HHOH) will be hosting an informational meeting regarding the community theatre production of Fiddler on the Roof. The informational meeting will be held at the Smart Center located on the backside of the Opera House (Julius Street) at 7 p.m. on Tuesday, March 4. Auditions will be held at the Smart Center on Wednesday, March 5th and Thursday, March 6th at 7 p.m. with productions scheduled for May.

No experience is required to be a part of this wonderful theatre event. Donna Fjestad, of Pierre, will be directing the show and would like to encourage residents of all ages to participate. “There will be a part for everyone, no one will be turned away,” said Fjestad. A variety of roles are available from the main characters to the many villagers who range from young children to seniors. In addition to the acting roles, residents will be needed to help with choreography, music, stage sets, costumes, etc.

“The show is not about having only experienced and extremely gifted people involved, its about community and having fun with your friends and neighbors,” said Karen Everett, HDLAC Director. “Even if you’ve never been involved with theatre, it will be a great experience and we want you and need you!”

Help make history by being a part of the first community theatre production at the Historic Homestake Opera House since restoration began. For more information, please feel free to contact HDLAC at 584-1461, HHOH at 584-2067 or Donna Fjestad at 280-1393.

Do you SEE this?? Allow me to repeat the important part: “There will be a part for everyone, no one will be turned away.“

Hooray! I’m a shoe-in! They can’t turn me away or call me too short! I could be one of 76 Townspeople!

But seriously – there aren’t that many people IN Lead or Deadwood, so I might, by statistical default, get a real part! I could be a Daughter. There are five of them, after all, and most of them don’t do anything but stand around. I can do that!

I told Sharon that if she does this, I will go see her in the play. “Hahaha!” she says. “That’s what I’m afraid of!” I promised to leave my camera at home. She didn’t sound convinced. She told me I could go audition instead, and that she would come see ME. I told her that if she does, she’d better bring her camera. I’d need pictures to send to my high school drama teacher. “SEE?? I am TOTALLY talented!!”

(I just heard her talking to someone else on the phone, saying “Laura is going to be in Fiddler on the Roof in May, and I want to make sure I’m here to see it.” Aah! It’s nice for people to believe in me!)

I can’t remember the last time I used this many exclamation points in anything I’ve written. I’m very excited. Now what do you suppose they’ll say when I tell them my rehearsal availability? “Monday nights, every other Wednesday, and Friday but only until 6:00…”

“Sign here,” they’ll say. They have to, after all. No one will be turned away!

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