(no subject)
Jul. 1st, 2004 04:06 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
enteleinThe final weekend of the show went much better than the whole of opening weekend, but hey, that's not really saying much. It does speak to many of the actors' benefits that we all pulled together (out of frustration, desperation, and a few other ations) to make the show as good as possible from our end of it. Audience response was pretty damned favorable towards my character, which was satisfying as I'm not going to play those sorts of roles for some time now.
There was a bizarre little cast party at Rapunzel's house, where I got chewed on by mosquitos, ate grilled food items, and then shook my booty to DDR on the PS2. I felt really surreal the whole evening - there was the usual (and expected) post-partum sadness of putting a show to rest, right down to the last push of the broom once the flats and set pieces have been taken down, and the costumes are piled into wash bags and wigs haphazardly stuffed into bags to be re-styled and washed before the next gig.
On the other hand ...
I'm so, so glad to be done with this show. It was a frustrating experience, through and through, and on many levels. I am frustrated with myself for accepting the role in the first place (yes! I know! It's a fabulous role! I should be grateful for every crumb I get! I get it!), I was angry and disappointed with the director (but have since let it go, since he doesn't deserve a speck of my energy, any more), I am frustrated for the music director who was so brilliant and wonderful and kept me in that show because she was so great to work with - she believes she doesn't have enough experience to go out into the wide world and do more. I called bullshit on that several times in the bar Saturday night, telling her that she's got what it takes to bust into whatever show or company she wants in Chicago. I'm not even kidding. She's very good at what she does. She was able to coach me into a passable soprano tone in a matter of weeks. That's no small feat. I am a stubborn, resonant alto.
The tech and the process were a shambles, and at some point you have to make a decision, as an actor, whether to fall prey to the negativity and just bitch and moan, or save the bitching and moaning for the bar after the show, with your Bass ale or your Stella and fried cheese nuggets, and you pull yourself up by your bootstraps and tell yourself that Greek ampitheatres didn't have lavalier mikes and Fresnels and Ben Nye and shawls and aprons, anyhow. It was sun and stone seats and the actor, in the open air, and it worked. At some point, you transcend the trappings of theatre, and you transcend any ideas of what a budget could solve. You've got yourself, the vessel actor, and that's it. Personal responsibility, and the slim pickings of hope that everyone around you will also cooperate.
So now I am prepared to collapse like a wilted flower in the depths of Chicago summer, until it's time to warm up the voice and do yet another musical for the fall. I see many hours on the XBox, glasses of ice cold water, and bowls of fruits and vegetables in my future. Sleeping, too. Oh, the sleeping.
There was a bizarre little cast party at Rapunzel's house, where I got chewed on by mosquitos, ate grilled food items, and then shook my booty to DDR on the PS2. I felt really surreal the whole evening - there was the usual (and expected) post-partum sadness of putting a show to rest, right down to the last push of the broom once the flats and set pieces have been taken down, and the costumes are piled into wash bags and wigs haphazardly stuffed into bags to be re-styled and washed before the next gig.
On the other hand ...
I'm so, so glad to be done with this show. It was a frustrating experience, through and through, and on many levels. I am frustrated with myself for accepting the role in the first place (yes! I know! It's a fabulous role! I should be grateful for every crumb I get! I get it!), I was angry and disappointed with the director (but have since let it go, since he doesn't deserve a speck of my energy, any more), I am frustrated for the music director who was so brilliant and wonderful and kept me in that show because she was so great to work with - she believes she doesn't have enough experience to go out into the wide world and do more. I called bullshit on that several times in the bar Saturday night, telling her that she's got what it takes to bust into whatever show or company she wants in Chicago. I'm not even kidding. She's very good at what she does. She was able to coach me into a passable soprano tone in a matter of weeks. That's no small feat. I am a stubborn, resonant alto.
The tech and the process were a shambles, and at some point you have to make a decision, as an actor, whether to fall prey to the negativity and just bitch and moan, or save the bitching and moaning for the bar after the show, with your Bass ale or your Stella and fried cheese nuggets, and you pull yourself up by your bootstraps and tell yourself that Greek ampitheatres didn't have lavalier mikes and Fresnels and Ben Nye and shawls and aprons, anyhow. It was sun and stone seats and the actor, in the open air, and it worked. At some point, you transcend the trappings of theatre, and you transcend any ideas of what a budget could solve. You've got yourself, the vessel actor, and that's it. Personal responsibility, and the slim pickings of hope that everyone around you will also cooperate.
So now I am prepared to collapse like a wilted flower in the depths of Chicago summer, until it's time to warm up the voice and do yet another musical for the fall. I see many hours on the XBox, glasses of ice cold water, and bowls of fruits and vegetables in my future. Sleeping, too. Oh, the sleeping.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2004-07-01 10:08 pm (UTC)Next time. Promise. I even ate half of a platter of naaaaachos while sitting in the sirport bar in C concourse, in between getting shuffled from one departure gate to the next, and raised a cheesy jalapeno-slathered chip in your honor. :)
no subject
Date: 2004-07-02 05:04 am (UTC)DAMNNNNNNN.
OK, next time. We'll hang. Aw, yay, nacho toast!