Cropening

The young actor strode confidently down the vomitorium. In the near darkness he could just make out the shape of his Legoland chimney top, into which he intended to disappear. But as he got closer he noticed, much to his chagrin, that some sort of tomfoolery had been afoot in the production department since the show just that morning and his personal chimney top- instead of having the expected and approved of three brick walls- now had four. Knowing his time for being safe in the darkness was swiftly drawing to a close he nimbly circled his chimney, much like an agitated raccoon, searching without touching for the entry panel. Sensing more than seeing the lights start to rise, he threw himself blindly in the direction of his gut instinct and hurled his body against one Lego tiled wall. His gut was correct. He disappeared through the deceptively painted fabric into his chimney, but had only moments to seethe and mentally vow revenge upon whichever over industrious crewperson had thusly mucked up his grand entrance before he was forced to pop out the top and begin the play.

Pop out the top he did, and immediately plunged the entire audience into the mental gymnastics of trying to determine if this person emerging from the chimney was a motorcyclist, a 1940s MGM bathing beauty, a troubadour, or perhaps one of the Super Mario Bros.

[Sidenote: This confusion is understandable. The actor in question is wearing at this point- simultaneously- a Shakespearean doublet, ladies black knee-highs, a green velveteen bathing cap, and a pair of steampunk goggles (the latter of which may or may not have been stolen by costuming from the author’s glove compartment, as she cannot find hers).]

Whatever conclusion our audience may draw is further complicated the second our young actor hoists himself entirely out of the chimney, in doing so revealing that he has, for mysterious reasons, affixed several asparagus spears to each foot. However, more characters enter before this can be dwelled on too deeply.

From various parts of the room various ladies cheerily enter, each missing various parts of her clothing. At first you are dazzled by the colors and flounces parading before you and then you start to wonder what the deal is with the easy access/panel-removed-at-the-private-area theme that’s going on. You become further suspicious when you notice that the lady who is garbed primarily in red has a bodice that is undone from the front by zipper. Outside of immediately wanting one just like it, you feel this is proof that your suspicions have grounds. But it turns out that these gals are simply the Princess’ merry band of Backup Hookers who are kind, generous, notably open to bestiality, and unfailingly fashion forward.

Peering beyond the layer of crinolines and weave, the audience can also glimpse a king, a queen, and a young man named Page, who sadly does not know how to spell and who has had, instead of a “P,” an “A” embroidered onto the front of his tunic. As this is never brought to his attention, an audience member can safely draw the conclusion that the kingdom as a whole has agreed that an ongoing “Scarlet Letter” joke is worth more than letting the young man in on his gaffe.

A lot happens in the next few minutes. Someone tells a blatant lie about the size of a cake, the blond hooker shows off her hair-as-a-monocle trick, this particular audience member learns that she is going to have to use WAY more blush to achieve proper contouring on her cheeks, and the Princess puts the props department’s nerves to the test by doing her level best to shatter everything they put in her hands.

By this point, you are probably wondering what has become of the young actor?/video game character?/water ballet artist. Don’t worry. I’m keeping track. After his chimney emergence/asparagus toes reveal, the young actor has taken advantage of the group exposition number to cleverly maneuver his chimney to upstage center, where he has a better vantage point. He is then pleasantly surprised to find that the Princess has been moved to perform a power ballad, thusly giving him a few moments to chill out...relax…see if he has any text messages from Brendan Kennedy.

́In the aftermath of said power ballad, we are invited to attend a brief medal ceremony wherein the Princess receives a well-deserved Olympic Gold Medal in the event of Female Singers Belting Across Their Probable Break While Spewing Lyrics Like A Gatling Gun. The Princess is flattered and gracious during the ceremony, but ultimately declines the medal, pointing out that she already has a rather large neck ornament.

[Sidenote: Aforementioned neck ornament has been a bit of a sore subject for our Princess. Some of the nastier villagers have in the past teased her about the resemblance her necklace has to a dog collar. They have since lost their lives, but not before the damage was done. The Princess has been doomed to wonder ever since if her dog-collar resembling necklace and perhaps even her creatively placed pigtails have anything to do with the fact that her parents lost an unhealthily beloved cocker spaniel mere months before her birth.]

I digress.

Our young actor, long ready for his re-entry to the proceedings, pops again from the chimney. He and the Princess have a long conversation about various things, but all the while skirt the subject of why our young actor has vegetables velcroed to his feet.

Suddenly, another song happens. No one gets hurt. By the end we have made the acquaintance of three more gentlemen-- a tall lad wearing lips buttons on his hat, Robin Hood freshly returned from the eye doctor, and yet another young man in the midst of an identity crisis: is he Elaine Stritch or Amelia Earhart? All of these fellows are very agreeable and feel very comfortable with our young actor, especially after they realize they are ALL sprouting asparagus from their ankles. But nothing can prepare them- or anyone, really- for having three Annie Sullivans emerge from the chimney unannounced.

Which they do. And then they dance some more.

The Queen, meanwhile, has been sitting backstage emotionally steaming all this time. I mean, she was “MAME” in this space for God’s sake. It is about time she did a number! Or played a horn! Or at the very LEAST wore some gold lamé.

She takes the stage. She slays the audience with a clever little play on the old “mirror mirror on the wall…” line. It’s going well. She decides to go ahead with the number she’s been developing in her boudoir on nights off from ballroom dance class with Mark Persinger. The number is a hit!. She decides to throw caution completely to the wind and bring in the three hookers (she has secretly been rehearsing them as potential backup dancers for weeks and what luck- their special wigs had just arrived yesterday!). The mirror ball goes off without a hitch, everyone’s wigs stay on, Paul Major cracks a smile-- it’s a total smash. As everyone’s exiting stage, word comes down that an intermission will be taken- The Hookers Three were not expecting to be called in to the Queen’s number and therefore need to have time to straighten their ‘fros before going on with the show- next up is the 8 o’clock number glorifying bestiality and everyone agrees that such things go over better with straightened hair.

Over the break we determine that there are not quite enough tiles in the onstage courtyard to conduct a proper game of chess and glare at a small boy who is crunching up and therefore spilling his Dixie Cup full of water. All in all we go into Act II fully relaxed, refreshed, and open minded.

But not open minded enough to date a frog. I’m all for progressive thinking, but it will take some doing to completely convince me it’s an alluring idea to get cozy with a creature who can camouflage completely with gravel in the dark and therefore scare the crap out of me when I’m walking to my car. Also they’re not furry. But that’s an entirely different essay.

Act II is off to a dazzling start. I realize that in addition to stealing all of the ladies dresses, I will also have to steal their shoes. Then it’s time for the duet. Which is beautiful. Our young actor and the Princess both sing beautifully. Mark Persinger has been thinking that he really enjoyed that tango segment during the Queen’s song and that he too would like more stage time. So he wanders out and eyeballs our loving siblings during the tail end of their duet, plotting all the while.

This peaceful reverie is interrupted by the Queen, who, having been once again relegated to the backstage area, has been keeping a sharp eye on the monitor, waiting for any chance to re-enter. Suddenly she sees it. She storms the stage, mis-labeled servingman in tow, and sets him to work peeling up all the spike tape- effectively disrupting the proceedings.

Things are building to a boiling point and veering toward violence when suddenly the “Witch Vanishes”  fog cue from the 2006 production of “Into the Woods” that misfired during a Sunday matinee in the third week of the run suddenly shows up! The Queen, thinking on her feet and never one to let a dramatic opportunity go to waste, swifty makes her exit amid the chaos- cleverly leaving behind someone’s opening night plastic frog cast gift.

At this point things could’ve gone either way. Without a key cast member, the show could have ground to a halt. But this is a seasoned company. They seamlessly launch back into a reprise of the duet from earlier in the act. Mark Persinger sees his chance. This time he swoops into the midst of the duet and revels in the moment, effectively refocusing both cast and audience back on the story and away from the uproarious events of moments before. Things are back on track.  Hookers, servingmen, royalty, and the vegetable-toed are all united. Singing and emoting. Spreading the invaluable lessons of patience, growth, and acceptance to audience members young and old when all at once our young actor decides he urgently needs to change his shirt and that he needs ALL ELEVEN OTHER PEOPLE onstage to help him do it. (We must excuse him- he’s been through a lot tonight.)

He reappears much refreshed. He’s decided he’d rather close out the show wearing something from “Shrek,” and it’s a good choice; the color is flattering on him. Everyone seems surprised by his new appearance- most especially the trio of young men. We as an audience feel that they shouldn’t be but so surprised- it has been suspect from the beginning, after all, that he was wearing black ladies’ knee-highs when all the rest of them were wearing green. The princess is neither alarmed nor concerned with the shade of anyone’s pantyhose, and is quite frankly just glad the Queen is gone and now she can hopefully sing two extra power ballads per show.

She decides to sing one right away. Everyone gets on board. There are crosses, smiles, many instances of meaningful eye contact with audience members. We can feel the show is climaxing and drawing near its end. We let our gaze rove over the cast- taking in each beautiful costume and beautiful face. The lights are stirring, the music is moving, and the cast is positioned beautifully in a pyramid with the Princess at the apex. Then a quick flash of a thought- where is the young actor? Surely he shares this final touching moment with the princess! Surely he has not come to harm somewhere upstage! You frantically scan the stage- you can feel the music swelling to its zenith and know the final bars are near- where is he?!? We all want the young man and the princess to share this final moment leading the people of the northwestern corner of Queens into a brave new future of love and acceptance! Then you spy a flick of wayward hair- a crown- yes! That’s him! His hair got messed up when the King ruffled his hair following the Star Wars joke that caused the kid sitting behind Audra to laugh so hard he gagged on his pancreas!

The young actor has remembered he is in the finale.  He makes his way downstage center to join the Princess and the company completes the number and takes their triumphant curtain call.

Overall- a hugely successful evening. I, for one, will be practicing kindness, not judging a book by its’ cover, and cutting the front panel out of all of my skirts immediately.