There's a cat in my hair.
But I'm getting ahead of myself. It may not be a cat.
Rewind.
Picture it- Tuesday night. Fourth of July. I'm really living it up- partying hard- watching "Dawson's Creek" Season 4 on Hulu and pounding chocolate milk. Suddenly- a message from a guy I grew up with and hadn't seen in fifteen years. There's an abandoned week-old kitten in his garage. Would I be willing to raise it since its mother apparently couldn't be bothered?
I take a swig and ponder.
Sure, I decide. Raising kittens is always fun and I need something fun right about now. And, you know, it's always a plus to one's self worth every day that a completely blind helpless and dependent creature doesn't die under your care.
I truck out to Wal-Mart after being condescended to by the phone operator at Target when I asked whether or not they carried kitten formula.
Tiny baby bottle- check. Kitten formula- check.
I drive home and bounce on my toes in front of my house waiting for my friend. I'm excited.
He pulls up. Wordless and stone-faced, he pops the trunk of his SUV. I step closer. This seems, for some reason, quite dire. A huge box. Several towels. Brandon slowly lifts and points a foreboding finger. Like the Spirit of Christmas Future aiming Scrooge in the direction of his tombstone.
I squint. Oh dear.
Oh dear.
It's been years since I've seen Brandon, but I had not heard of his apparent mental demise. That's not a kitten in that box. That's a severed, furry thumb.
I paste on a smile and pick the thumb gingerly out of the box. Weightless. Gulp.
"Bye, Brandon!" I trill nervously. He drives away.
I go inside. Place the item in question on the couch.
Poke.....prod.....oh....hmm.
This thumb seems to have four tiny twigs sprouting off its underside with.......four miniscule needles affixed to each one.
Weird. Further inspection.
Two triangular fur flaps cover two tiny holes on the tip of the thumb. Two teensy slice marks frame a rough pink patch. There's one cream colored swatch of hair just where the thumb nail should be.
Well hell. If this were my thumb I'd have amputated it too.
Convinced it's as harmless as it is peculiar, I lift it to my face for a really good look.
"WRAAAAAAAAAAEEEEEEEEEEKKKKKKKKK!!!!"
I drop it. I catch it. My ears ring.
So.....not a thumb, then. Clearly a living creature. Likely an animal of some sort.
I post a photo to the world wide web. I'll need expert opinions. My friends are instantly on the task. Otter? Sloth? Kristen Bell? My brother comes closest, I think, with- binturong. Look it up. If you dare.
Whatever it is, it is furious. You could wring the righteous indignation from this critter like body wash from a loofah. And just what, I think, what do you have to be righteously indignant about? One doesn't simply acquire the ability to be righteously indignant until one has had a few life experiences beyond simply popping out of a vagina-- oh. Well...hmm. On second thought, I grant it its indignation.
I make it a drink. Shaken, not stirred. I noodle around on its face with my pointer finger to try and discover if it has a mouth. Aha! A flap opens with what appears to be a teeny tiny tongue flapping around inside. I insert the bottle.
Suddenly, without warning, all sixteen of the aforementioned miniscule needles sink into the flesh of my hand. Vacuum-caliber sucking noises. This thing is sucking on the bottle so hard its ears are flapping. One flap per suck. Flap, suck, flap, suck.
Then, just as suddenly as it transformed into a ravenous velociraptor, it goes completely limp. Head collapses backward. Milk sprays up and dribbles across its face. Needles retract. Um.
I squeeze it. Still alive. Just comatose.
Clutching the unconscious and unidentified critter in one hand, I wander my apartment looking for something to put it in. I settle on the trash. On the trash can as a bed, that is. I don't usually get fed up with things that quickly.
Night passes. Radio silence from the newest tenant of my wastebasket. Dawn breaks.
"WRAAAAAAAAAAEEEEEEEEEEKKKKKKKKKK!!!!"
And I'm up. I snatch the creature out of the garbage. I'm starting to think it might be a kitten. Kittens are notorious for thinking they know exactly when humans should wake up in the morning and not being a bit afraid to let them know it.
I put it in the sink. Some soap. Warm water. I smirk, smug. Little Mr. Righteous Indignation does not look so tough now that he's dripping wet. More like a pinkie now, aren't we?
I towel it off. Lovingly construct it a house out of an old and charmingly colorful cardboard frozen popsicle box. Generously donate one of my favorite yellow socks I got from my Dad for it to use as a snuggle buddy. Is it grateful? Nope. Further screaming, writhing, twisting-- this cat is like the Seven Dwarves. The lesser known seven- you know: Screamy, Twisty, Scratchy, Climby, Wriggly, Leaky and Opinionated.
But, this'll be fun. It will be adorable watching it learn to walk and having it tumble and frolic around my apartment. Unless it does something surprising. Like turn out to be a Tyrannosaurus.
Friday, July 7, 2017
Monday, July 3, 2017
Some Hamilton; Some Babies
People are parking in the poison ivy.
On purpose. Leaning out their car windows shaking their heads and muttering, but doing it anyway. You know why?
'Cause tonight is "Hamilton" LIVE at The DELL.
Things you need to know:
1. "Hamilton" is a little musical about the founding of this country written by a chap named Lin-Manuel Miranda. It's quite good. Most people don't know that Scott Wichmann was a founding father, but no one is really surprised, once word gets out.
2. The Dell is Dogwood Dell- a beautiful old ampitheatre located next to the Carillon in RVA's Byrd Park where, if so inclined, you can go on almost any night of the summer and experience both heatstroke and a very exciting artistic evening. For zero dollars.
I've had a long history with Dogwood Dell. One of my very first theatrical ventures was at the Dell. I played a blind, mute, and crafty hooker under the direction of Joe Pabst. I would sit on the upstage side of the scenery while Janine Serresseque and Jacquie O'Connor sang their duet from "Jekyll & Hyde" and have rapturous fits. I also had a fine time gazing up at my then boyfriend- who was running spotlight/hanging out with/defending his life from the pigeons in the light grid.
The following summer, I delivered lots of dour monologues about life as a corpse and sang one zesty duet about Missouri downstage right with Sam Pinkleton, who has since capitalized on that experience by getting himself nominated for a Tony Award. Dogwood Dell trains you well.
I once pretended to do P90-X on the Dell stage with Scott, Josh Marin, Brittany Simmons, and other people I can't remember due to my brain's having drowned that day in a sweat monsoon.
I occasionally walk to the Dell during the off season and go onstage and just sing and flit around to my heart's content.
Fireworks happen at the Dell every July 4th. Huge event. Packed. I once sang the national anthem to kick off said event with The Bellini Sisters. It went well. Aside from the fact that lead Bellini Nicole Oberleitner threw her neck out jerking in shock because no one told us that CANNONS WERE GOING TO BE FIRED directly following, "And the rocket's red glare---" BOOM. Off to the chiropractor we go.
Overall, it's a great RVA place.
Tonight though- it's especially special. This poison ivy parking is next level. I've arrived a bit early, and as such, am very lucky to secure a seat on a lovely patch of grass directly behind the entire theater. In the woods. But conveniently next to the port-a-potties.
So many friends are there- so many members of the arts community. A breeze. You can hardly smell the bug spray. I hang out with an especially chunky baby wearing enviable sandals and take a walking tour of the premises. Everyone is friendly, chatty, delighted to be there. People usually get excited when you know you are at THE PLACE TO BE.
The first set is Samson Trinh and his big band orchestra. They're grand. Samson is one of those impishly talented people who just has IT. That thing when an artist so instinctively understands their craft that they don't even need to think about it and are therefore free to leap and boogie about the stage looking very dapper like you'd expect anyone made mostly of music and pixie sticks and 500 volt batteries to do while very successfully leading an entire orchestra at the same time. Samson also has the distinction of being the first human to introduce me to the Tres Leche cake at Kuba Kuba. So- he's a winner.
Then- it's time for "Hamilton." The baby I'm hanging out with has eaten half a pound of grapes. I'm both jealous and impressed.
Everyone takes the stage. I can't see them, but I'm confident of their presence because they've all been live on Facebook for the past half hour. Cheers. Applause.
I see Samson bouncing up and down. Good. We've begun. Scott takes the mic- a solid, confident voice- the crowd goes nuts. This is now guaranteed to be an excellent evening. There's rapping, riffing, black T-shirts, and a very solid set of bangs.
Then Matt Shofner makes his entrance.
So you know- I've been blessed to play opposite Matt Shofner many times in my life. As an egg, a stepsister, a knife-wielding orphan, and a delusional Mormon drug addict. Always a good time.
Tomorrow, in fact, I will start rehearsals to play opposite him as an emotion. Neither of us have read the script, but that will make things, if anything, more fun.
I sprint across the lawn to squat precariously on a cobblestone. This I gotta see up close.
Matt takes the mic. His stance has the audience riveted out of the gate. He proceeds to deliver a performance that has 5,000 people on the edge of their towels. My friend Phil swats me on the arm to whisper, "You should tell Matt that he's not supposed to be better than the recording."
It's thrilling to watch all those people watch Matt. And he commands them in a way that deserves it.
The baby I am hanging out interrupts to alert me that she is done with her peanut butter and jelly sandwich.
Now we're on to the "Hamilton" ladies.
There is much slaying. I scream "YAAAS" a few times.
Desiree Roots, Desiree Dabney, Mallory Keene, Lucretia Anderson, Anthony Cosby....it goes on and on and gets better and better. (Also if anyone is down for teaching me how to make the accent mark on a laptop computer, I'll give you a quarter and write a flattering story about you.)
Scanning the crowd occasionally, I am moved by the fact that 5,000+ people have chosen to spend their evening here. Music, laughter, singing along to music we all love. And just an appreciation and gratitude for the arts and the joy therein. Frankly, quite heart-warming. I don't even mind my heart being warmed in the 90 degree heat.
At this point I realize that I would not be at all surprised if Lin-Manuel himself coasted in on a helicopter.
The finale arrives- it's Jerold Solomon (who- I'll proudly have you know- I once watched eat Chinese food while I babysat his cousin). He's incredible. He sings the song about George Washington forcing Alexander Hamilton to write him a monologue because he's tired and figures he's going to die soon.
We are deafened by the amounts of pins we hear dropping.
My friend is in tears. "Move, Dad," her daughter hisses. "I can't see Mom tearing up!"
And there- in that old stony grassy ampitheatre- we are all enjoying. Together.
That's the best.
I'll probably go back for the fireworks July 4th. Or I may just stay now. The fourth is only three days away and now is a wise time to place my chair if I want a good spot. That won't cause a rash.
On purpose. Leaning out their car windows shaking their heads and muttering, but doing it anyway. You know why?
'Cause tonight is "Hamilton" LIVE at The DELL.
Things you need to know:
1. "Hamilton" is a little musical about the founding of this country written by a chap named Lin-Manuel Miranda. It's quite good. Most people don't know that Scott Wichmann was a founding father, but no one is really surprised, once word gets out.
2. The Dell is Dogwood Dell- a beautiful old ampitheatre located next to the Carillon in RVA's Byrd Park where, if so inclined, you can go on almost any night of the summer and experience both heatstroke and a very exciting artistic evening. For zero dollars.
I've had a long history with Dogwood Dell. One of my very first theatrical ventures was at the Dell. I played a blind, mute, and crafty hooker under the direction of Joe Pabst. I would sit on the upstage side of the scenery while Janine Serresseque and Jacquie O'Connor sang their duet from "Jekyll & Hyde" and have rapturous fits. I also had a fine time gazing up at my then boyfriend- who was running spotlight/hanging out with/defending his life from the pigeons in the light grid.
The following summer, I delivered lots of dour monologues about life as a corpse and sang one zesty duet about Missouri downstage right with Sam Pinkleton, who has since capitalized on that experience by getting himself nominated for a Tony Award. Dogwood Dell trains you well.
I once pretended to do P90-X on the Dell stage with Scott, Josh Marin, Brittany Simmons, and other people I can't remember due to my brain's having drowned that day in a sweat monsoon.
I occasionally walk to the Dell during the off season and go onstage and just sing and flit around to my heart's content.
Fireworks happen at the Dell every July 4th. Huge event. Packed. I once sang the national anthem to kick off said event with The Bellini Sisters. It went well. Aside from the fact that lead Bellini Nicole Oberleitner threw her neck out jerking in shock because no one told us that CANNONS WERE GOING TO BE FIRED directly following, "And the rocket's red glare---" BOOM. Off to the chiropractor we go.
Overall, it's a great RVA place.
Tonight though- it's especially special. This poison ivy parking is next level. I've arrived a bit early, and as such, am very lucky to secure a seat on a lovely patch of grass directly behind the entire theater. In the woods. But conveniently next to the port-a-potties.
So many friends are there- so many members of the arts community. A breeze. You can hardly smell the bug spray. I hang out with an especially chunky baby wearing enviable sandals and take a walking tour of the premises. Everyone is friendly, chatty, delighted to be there. People usually get excited when you know you are at THE PLACE TO BE.
The first set is Samson Trinh and his big band orchestra. They're grand. Samson is one of those impishly talented people who just has IT. That thing when an artist so instinctively understands their craft that they don't even need to think about it and are therefore free to leap and boogie about the stage looking very dapper like you'd expect anyone made mostly of music and pixie sticks and 500 volt batteries to do while very successfully leading an entire orchestra at the same time. Samson also has the distinction of being the first human to introduce me to the Tres Leche cake at Kuba Kuba. So- he's a winner.
Then- it's time for "Hamilton." The baby I'm hanging out with has eaten half a pound of grapes. I'm both jealous and impressed.
Everyone takes the stage. I can't see them, but I'm confident of their presence because they've all been live on Facebook for the past half hour. Cheers. Applause.
I see Samson bouncing up and down. Good. We've begun. Scott takes the mic- a solid, confident voice- the crowd goes nuts. This is now guaranteed to be an excellent evening. There's rapping, riffing, black T-shirts, and a very solid set of bangs.
Then Matt Shofner makes his entrance.
So you know- I've been blessed to play opposite Matt Shofner many times in my life. As an egg, a stepsister, a knife-wielding orphan, and a delusional Mormon drug addict. Always a good time.
Tomorrow, in fact, I will start rehearsals to play opposite him as an emotion. Neither of us have read the script, but that will make things, if anything, more fun.
I sprint across the lawn to squat precariously on a cobblestone. This I gotta see up close.
Matt takes the mic. His stance has the audience riveted out of the gate. He proceeds to deliver a performance that has 5,000 people on the edge of their towels. My friend Phil swats me on the arm to whisper, "You should tell Matt that he's not supposed to be better than the recording."
It's thrilling to watch all those people watch Matt. And he commands them in a way that deserves it.
The baby I am hanging out interrupts to alert me that she is done with her peanut butter and jelly sandwich.
Now we're on to the "Hamilton" ladies.
There is much slaying. I scream "YAAAS" a few times.
Desiree Roots, Desiree Dabney, Mallory Keene, Lucretia Anderson, Anthony Cosby....it goes on and on and gets better and better. (Also if anyone is down for teaching me how to make the accent mark on a laptop computer, I'll give you a quarter and write a flattering story about you.)
Scanning the crowd occasionally, I am moved by the fact that 5,000+ people have chosen to spend their evening here. Music, laughter, singing along to music we all love. And just an appreciation and gratitude for the arts and the joy therein. Frankly, quite heart-warming. I don't even mind my heart being warmed in the 90 degree heat.
At this point I realize that I would not be at all surprised if Lin-Manuel himself coasted in on a helicopter.
The finale arrives- it's Jerold Solomon (who- I'll proudly have you know- I once watched eat Chinese food while I babysat his cousin). He's incredible. He sings the song about George Washington forcing Alexander Hamilton to write him a monologue because he's tired and figures he's going to die soon.
We are deafened by the amounts of pins we hear dropping.
My friend is in tears. "Move, Dad," her daughter hisses. "I can't see Mom tearing up!"
And there- in that old stony grassy ampitheatre- we are all enjoying. Together.
That's the best.
I'll probably go back for the fireworks July 4th. Or I may just stay now. The fourth is only three days away and now is a wise time to place my chair if I want a good spot. That won't cause a rash.
Saturday, May 13, 2017
BRATTY AND THE TUT NAY*
Ahem.
.....Somewhere deep in a dark pit, Jason Marks' henchperson presses Play.....
Once upon a time, downstage center,
An unidentifiable ensemble member stood downstage of an 11 year old backdrop.
Although he had on a very necessary puppeting cape,
The Ensemble Member was actually thinking about his "Be Our Guest" dance break coming up 9 hours from now.
But then, just 16 measures later,
Another Ensemble Member who may or may not be Hannah Zold turned to face the audience,
And offered him a witch puppet in return for his agreeing to be her scene partner.
Repulsed by her haggard puppet,
The Prince sneered at the lady Ensemble Member,
And turned away up left.
But she jiggled her puppet at him scoldingly,
For the director had told her to do so.
And when he dismissed her again,
Hannah did a quick pirouette to disguise her puppet's quick change and turned back DS
To reveal Rue McClanahan.
The Prince tried to apologize, but it was too late,
For she could tell he hadn't finished "The Golden Girls" on Hulu.
And as punishment,
She pressured him into a quick change as well,
And placed a powerful spell on whatever lived upstage of the drop,
And all the other cast members.
Ashamed that his costume in no way matched the one Matt Polson would appear in later,
The beast remained stoically standing DS of his puppeteer,
With a magic mirror toy from Party City as his only link to the rest of the evening.
The Rose she had offered,
Was truly an enchanted rose,
Which would bloom for probably the whole run.
If he could learn to love "The Golden Girls,"
And make it up to Hannah and her creepy puppet
By the time the rose prop fell apart,
Then the spell would be broken.
If not, he would be doomed to remain in the wrong costume
Til the show closed on May 14th.
As the weeks passed,
He fell into despair, and lost all hope,
For who could ever learn to love... TUT NAY*.
*The writer's phone auto-corrected "Beauty and the Beast" to BRATTY AND THE TUT NAY. So here we are.
Chauncey nips nimbly out of her mobile cottage on a sunny country morn only to be immediately taken aback by the alarming presence of two puppets creepily eyeing her from the front lawn. Trespassers. Determined despite the creepiness to continue with her performance of the opening number of "Beauty & The Beast," Chauncey trips blithely past the puppets and begins her rotation of lovely laps beneath and over the one bridge in town. This bridge, being 11 years old, may be condemned, but everyone here is notably optimistic and repeatedly throws caution to the wind. It's a fascinating town- a small tribe of children emerge periodically and stomp rhythmically across the courtyard. Brandon Johns lives in this town, and prides himself on possessing the best bread tray prop in all the land. Most of the townsfolk attempt to be blase about the fact that a woman dressed as Belle from Disney's "Beauty & The Beast" is in their midst, but let's face it- everyone loves that movie and those songs and so, whenever Chauncey gets to a particularly choice section of the number, they all freeze in their tracks to listen. As the number progresses, everyone becomes increasingly aware of how amazing they sound as an ensemble and eventually, everyone is participating wholeheartedly. The number comes to a rousing close. Everyone is pleased with themselves and mostly disperse, with the exception of Landon Nagel- who is wearing Matt Polson's costume from years ago- and a trio of young women disguised as tablecloths in an attempt to sneak up on Mandon Nolson (which is what everyone has taken to calling him until his identity can be verified one way or the other).
Mandon tries to persuade Chauncey that she'd be much better off just agreeing to exit with him downstage right immediately so everyone could call it a night and retire to Quirk, but Chauncey, as demonstrated by her elegant character shoes and crystal tones, is a consummate professional and firmly insists on continuing with the show.
Suddenly Richard Koch appears wearing the skeleton version of Christie Jackson's hat from "Croaker" and produces a noise from his cart startling enough to successfully evict all children and women named Audra from the audience. In celebration of what will now doubtless be a much quieter evening, Chauncey gifts Richard a long red scarf to keep him warm on this beautiful summer day and sends him off into the fabric forest.
Richard is having a fine time, crafting bits of the number he just shared with Chauncey into a reprise befitting of his current circumstances when- WHAM. Out of nowhere a small troupe of modern dancers protesting PETA pop out of the woodwork. Good heavens- Richard thinks- they've all got years of Fosse dance background and are CLEARLY artists! Where did they go so wrong as to fall into murdering wildlife for their pelts???? Aghast though he may be, Richard finds himself drawn into the protester's beautifully executed dance routine and doesn't even notice when they break the cardinal actor rule of only touching props which belong to you and start to strike his cart off left. But, distracted as they are by their cause, the protesters can't even commit to that and leave the cart idling left of forest center.
Regaining his wits, Richard finds himself in the foyer of a dark, dark castle beset by woe. The three inhabitants he meets straightaway are nearing their wit's end. Upon inquiring into their plights, Richard learns that everyone has been driven nearly to distraction by the out of control antics of the giant house-cat and their inability to reign in this terrible beast. They've apparently spoiled him rotten and the resulting progressively violent nature of said house-cat - called TUT NAY- has resulted in everyone's near madness. Some people have begun dressing as household appliances for safety! Something must be done. But what?
Suddenly a clatter on the stairs! Richard finds himself, flanked by a dramatically gorgeous woman dressed as a fuzzy banister and two gentlemen: one in a clock costume with a pharaoh headdress and the other dressed as, for all Richard can figure, George Washington the Pyromaniac, gazing with trepidation at the doorway.
TUT NAY appears. Monstrous. Hulking, stomping- wearing clothes!!!- and clearly in possession of a very recent perm. Richard is shocked. People these days and their pets! You gave the cat a CAPE?
The elegant banister, Pyro-George, and the pharaoh decide that to be on the safe side, Richard should hang out in a closet downstairs until TUT NAY goes down for his afternoon nap.
Meanwhile, back at the village, the mobile cottage rolls in again for a fuel-up and Mandon Nolson seizes this opportunity to again try and convince Chauncey that he is Matt Polson. Chauncey pretends to sweep until it is clear Mandon is not backing down, and then retreats into her cottage. Suddenly, Caleb Wade rushes in- he's on the run because it's become clear that he's stolen Audra's socks from "Into the Woods" and now she knows about it. Not only that, he's also stolen Richard's scarf! These actors! If it's not your prop or your costume, hands off!
Frustrated, Chauncey calls for another scene shift and, once her cottage has reversed to a safe distance, enters the castle looking for Richard. She finds him almost immediately, but, enjoying the fabulous reverb effect on her mic, pretends to look for him a little while longer.
Being a kind soul, Chauncey decides to go on with the scene, as she knows the two ensemble members standing frozen pretending to be suits of armor are probably anxious to get on with things. She approaches Richard's cell. Then-- a snarl from downstage right. Here comes TUT NAY.
Chauncey analyzes him carefully. She's a dog person, normally, but given her immense respect for Richard, and knowing how much it would rock his world to be able to chill in the dressing room for the rest of the show, she decides to offer herself as a substitute. TUT NAY concedes. Chauncey feigns cowering on the floor- no way is she letting TUT NAY know that when he took off his hoodie, she could totally tell that his horns were squishy and now all she can think of when she sees him is giving them a squeeze.
TUT NAY grimly escorts Chauncey to her bedroom, hoping against hope that she will not notice that there is no door. Chauncey - again, having her wits about her- does notice, but decides to pretend she doesn't so that a performance of "Home" will make sense.
Following this plaintive ballad, the Coloratura Wardrobe Turtle makes her presence known just stage left of the bed. Initially alarmed, Chauncey is then both deeply impressed and disturbed to truly learn the lengths these people will go to protect themselves from TUT NAY's savagery.
Then Georgia comes in dressed a a teapot and sings for 10 bars and all is right with the world.
Meanwhile- again- back in the village, Mandon has taken over Hardywood and is slumped in his chair ruminating over what in the blazes it could be about his costume that is not convincing Chauncey that he is Matt Polson. His wig is on point, he's saying all the same lines, singing the same songs, WTF? Before he can sink too far into his ponderings Caleb (those are Audra's socks, damn it) prances is and proceeds to distract Mandon and the entire brewery with a song and dance number which, to a certain Evil Queen's credit, contains a dance break so intricate and fabulous it literally made a baby last Thursday at the matinee scream "Cheers!"
Back at the castle, TUT NAY has descended from his elaborate cat tower and is pacing with a platter of Fancy Feast. He's so caught up in figuring out how to appropriately address Chauncey that he takes no notice of the fact that her bedroom has mysteriously vanished. At a loss, he turns to the humans in the house for help. Georgia, the banister, the pharaoh, and Pyro-George all offer their best advice, but it's been so long since TUT NAY displayed any manners that even his best attempt at inviting Chauncey downstage right for the dinner-themed production number meet with failure. A tickling of a memory....did he once upon a time tell a girl named Audra that she ruined Christmas all because she overcooked an english muffin......? No, no. Another life.
Frustrated, TUT NAY retreats to his cat tower for a cat nap. He's got just the corner for such things.
But- as the saying goes- while the cat's away........the rest of the ensemble will perform an epic production number.
Chauncey sneaks away downstairs and is treated to a gorgeously performed dinner featuring solos by a knife, free-range pasta, and the magic carpet from "Aladdin." Floating on air, Chauncey ascends the stairs to her bed chamber, but is tempted by the shadowy recesses of the forbidden west wing. She's heard that show is VERY GOOD, and having yet to stream it on Netflix, decides to makes the most of her imprisonment and at the very least, get that series under her belt. She arrives at the top of the stairs, but to her surprise, discovers not a laptop computer but a glowing, floating rose! Awesome! It's so enchanting she momentarily forgets her impeccable theater training and is reaching for A PROP THAT ISN'T HERS (these people!) when suddenly TUT NAY leaps from the shadows! He roars, he scolds, he has a fit. Does she have any idea what that prop cost?!? Mortified, Chauncey flees the tower and races down the stairs, headed, no doubt, for the fabric forest and certain death. TUT NAY is horrified by what he has done, and that his cat instincts have gotten the better of him- never able to resist a string. He knows he must go after her! Plead with her to return! She's the only chance he has! But first- a power ballad.
TUT NAY dramatically descends the stairs from the tower and crosses all the way down into the courtyard. He is so wrapped up in his drama he completely misses the fact that his home is being repossessed right behind his back.
Finally, TUT NAY charges into the forest to save Chauncey. As he expected, she's been approached by that troupe of Fosse protesters. He's SO over them. Grateful for his recent turn as Curly in Riverside's "Oklahoma" for affording him dream ballet training, he leaps into the fray and makes short work of the troublesome troupe. Chauncey is impressed.
The two return to the palace where they proceed to make friends and fall into a more comedic pattern of speech. Things get going so well at one point TUT NAY deigns to gift Chauncey his entire library- all the while hoping against hope she won't notice that only one book in the whole place is actually functional.
Soon it's time for the title number. Everyone hustles to change. All parties enter grandly right on cue. TUT NAY nearly pulls a muscle in his crotch going for the Alexander Sapp "Summer in Smoke" wooing a lady pose on the staircase, but bravely forges on.
Then Georgia comes back out as a teapot and sings for even more bars and all is right with the world.
Chauncey and TUT NAY, after several successful rounds of dipping and nuzzling, retire downstage center where, overcome with passion, TUT NAY gifts Chauncey his favorite toy mirror from Party City which reminds her she better go backstage and check on Richard.
Dejected, but knowing he's done the right thing by letting Chauncey go, TUT NAY retreats to his cat tower and takes off his horns.
Meanwhile - again - back in the village, Caleb is still wearing Audra's socks and the rest of the ensemble is really spoiling for a production number. Seizing on any opportunity, they leap into song and dance at the illumination of Chauncey's party mirror and proceed to do epic crowd-pattern choreography the entire way into the fabric forest and right on up to the castle doors, whereupon the women and children immediately say cash me outside and leave the menfolk to handle the people dressed as appliances all on their own.
The castlefolk triumph- no problem. Except for Mandon Nolson- the lead bad guy- who they let slide upstairs unannounced. Mandon sneaks into the cat tower. This is GREAT, he thinks. Finally I'll rid the world of this TUT NAY, who is secretly actually my arch-nemesis Matt Polson, and both Chauncey and the role of Gaston will be MINE!
Poor Mandon. As he peels the pile of purple fabric posing as TUT NAY from the floor, he realizes it's not Matt Polson at all! It's a male ensemble member! Perhaps the selfsame ensemble member from the prologue seeking revenge? Too late! Mandon stabs the mystery ensemble member in the back and he who is pretending to be TUT NAY, outraged at having been attacked just because he was wearing the same purple cape Matt had on earlier, tosses Mandon off the back of the set. Where he may actually have died, for I haven't seen him since.
Exhausted from his efforts, but having satisfied his puppet grudge, Male Ensemble Member tags out with the actual TUT NAY, Matt Polson, for the end of the show. Matt staggers down the stairs and collapses in a heap on top of Chauncey who- carrying forward the theme of the show- proceeds to sing a plaintive reprise rather than attend to the matter at hand of TUT NAY BLEEDING TO DEATH IN HER LAP. "I love you.....," Chauncey whispers brokenly.
Cue fancy prop rose to drop the last lone petal. It drifts hauntingly to the tabletop. Nailed it.
All of a sudden, Tinkerbell- who we haven't seen in this theater since the last revival of "Peter Pan"- makes a surprising and psychedelic entrance. We don't know what she's been up to for the last 10 years but tonight she's clearly been to a rave and/or experimenting with shrooms. Her light flashes neon and fluorescent as she drunkenly pops into the cat tower and then falls to the pavement only to weave loopily up the staircase where she finally passes out atop TUT NAY's prone form.
Much as TUT NAY resents having his death scene stolen, he does not fail to see the golden opportunity of this situation. Rather than die, he thinks, why don't I just use the pixie dust Tink just spilled all over me to do something really dope? I'll fly! I'll FLY and - AND! I'LL TAKE OFF MY FAKE TEETH! Then we'll just see what Chauncey thinks of me then, now won't we!!!!
It's a good plan. TUT NAY thinks the happy thought of Chauncey scratching his ears for hours in his cat tower and flies right up into the air. "It's working!" he thinks happily. But then it gets even better. Thanks to Pyro-George and his over-indulgence in the war of appliance vs. townspeople the castle's fire extinguishers go off spontaneously and an amazing fog effect is created. Nailing it.
TUT NAY alights delicately on the platform next to Chauncey. She is, again, very impressed, though a bit concerned about Tinkerbell and her current comatose state. That aside, she thinks, this production of "Beauty & The Beast" is the best yet.
.....Somewhere deep in a dark pit, Jason Marks' henchperson presses Play.....
Once upon a time, downstage center,
An unidentifiable ensemble member stood downstage of an 11 year old backdrop.
Although he had on a very necessary puppeting cape,
The Ensemble Member was actually thinking about his "Be Our Guest" dance break coming up 9 hours from now.
But then, just 16 measures later,
Another Ensemble Member who may or may not be Hannah Zold turned to face the audience,
And offered him a witch puppet in return for his agreeing to be her scene partner.
Repulsed by her haggard puppet,
The Prince sneered at the lady Ensemble Member,
And turned away up left.
But she jiggled her puppet at him scoldingly,
For the director had told her to do so.
And when he dismissed her again,
Hannah did a quick pirouette to disguise her puppet's quick change and turned back DS
To reveal Rue McClanahan.
The Prince tried to apologize, but it was too late,
For she could tell he hadn't finished "The Golden Girls" on Hulu.
And as punishment,
She pressured him into a quick change as well,
And placed a powerful spell on whatever lived upstage of the drop,
And all the other cast members.
Ashamed that his costume in no way matched the one Matt Polson would appear in later,
The beast remained stoically standing DS of his puppeteer,
With a magic mirror toy from Party City as his only link to the rest of the evening.
The Rose she had offered,
Was truly an enchanted rose,
Which would bloom for probably the whole run.
If he could learn to love "The Golden Girls,"
And make it up to Hannah and her creepy puppet
By the time the rose prop fell apart,
Then the spell would be broken.
If not, he would be doomed to remain in the wrong costume
Til the show closed on May 14th.
As the weeks passed,
He fell into despair, and lost all hope,
For who could ever learn to love... TUT NAY*.
*The writer's phone auto-corrected "Beauty and the Beast" to BRATTY AND THE TUT NAY. So here we are.
Chauncey nips nimbly out of her mobile cottage on a sunny country morn only to be immediately taken aback by the alarming presence of two puppets creepily eyeing her from the front lawn. Trespassers. Determined despite the creepiness to continue with her performance of the opening number of "Beauty & The Beast," Chauncey trips blithely past the puppets and begins her rotation of lovely laps beneath and over the one bridge in town. This bridge, being 11 years old, may be condemned, but everyone here is notably optimistic and repeatedly throws caution to the wind. It's a fascinating town- a small tribe of children emerge periodically and stomp rhythmically across the courtyard. Brandon Johns lives in this town, and prides himself on possessing the best bread tray prop in all the land. Most of the townsfolk attempt to be blase about the fact that a woman dressed as Belle from Disney's "Beauty & The Beast" is in their midst, but let's face it- everyone loves that movie and those songs and so, whenever Chauncey gets to a particularly choice section of the number, they all freeze in their tracks to listen. As the number progresses, everyone becomes increasingly aware of how amazing they sound as an ensemble and eventually, everyone is participating wholeheartedly. The number comes to a rousing close. Everyone is pleased with themselves and mostly disperse, with the exception of Landon Nagel- who is wearing Matt Polson's costume from years ago- and a trio of young women disguised as tablecloths in an attempt to sneak up on Mandon Nolson (which is what everyone has taken to calling him until his identity can be verified one way or the other).
Mandon tries to persuade Chauncey that she'd be much better off just agreeing to exit with him downstage right immediately so everyone could call it a night and retire to Quirk, but Chauncey, as demonstrated by her elegant character shoes and crystal tones, is a consummate professional and firmly insists on continuing with the show.
Suddenly Richard Koch appears wearing the skeleton version of Christie Jackson's hat from "Croaker" and produces a noise from his cart startling enough to successfully evict all children and women named Audra from the audience. In celebration of what will now doubtless be a much quieter evening, Chauncey gifts Richard a long red scarf to keep him warm on this beautiful summer day and sends him off into the fabric forest.
Richard is having a fine time, crafting bits of the number he just shared with Chauncey into a reprise befitting of his current circumstances when- WHAM. Out of nowhere a small troupe of modern dancers protesting PETA pop out of the woodwork. Good heavens- Richard thinks- they've all got years of Fosse dance background and are CLEARLY artists! Where did they go so wrong as to fall into murdering wildlife for their pelts???? Aghast though he may be, Richard finds himself drawn into the protester's beautifully executed dance routine and doesn't even notice when they break the cardinal actor rule of only touching props which belong to you and start to strike his cart off left. But, distracted as they are by their cause, the protesters can't even commit to that and leave the cart idling left of forest center.
Regaining his wits, Richard finds himself in the foyer of a dark, dark castle beset by woe. The three inhabitants he meets straightaway are nearing their wit's end. Upon inquiring into their plights, Richard learns that everyone has been driven nearly to distraction by the out of control antics of the giant house-cat and their inability to reign in this terrible beast. They've apparently spoiled him rotten and the resulting progressively violent nature of said house-cat - called TUT NAY- has resulted in everyone's near madness. Some people have begun dressing as household appliances for safety! Something must be done. But what?
Suddenly a clatter on the stairs! Richard finds himself, flanked by a dramatically gorgeous woman dressed as a fuzzy banister and two gentlemen: one in a clock costume with a pharaoh headdress and the other dressed as, for all Richard can figure, George Washington the Pyromaniac, gazing with trepidation at the doorway.
TUT NAY appears. Monstrous. Hulking, stomping- wearing clothes!!!- and clearly in possession of a very recent perm. Richard is shocked. People these days and their pets! You gave the cat a CAPE?
The elegant banister, Pyro-George, and the pharaoh decide that to be on the safe side, Richard should hang out in a closet downstairs until TUT NAY goes down for his afternoon nap.
Meanwhile, back at the village, the mobile cottage rolls in again for a fuel-up and Mandon Nolson seizes this opportunity to again try and convince Chauncey that he is Matt Polson. Chauncey pretends to sweep until it is clear Mandon is not backing down, and then retreats into her cottage. Suddenly, Caleb Wade rushes in- he's on the run because it's become clear that he's stolen Audra's socks from "Into the Woods" and now she knows about it. Not only that, he's also stolen Richard's scarf! These actors! If it's not your prop or your costume, hands off!
Frustrated, Chauncey calls for another scene shift and, once her cottage has reversed to a safe distance, enters the castle looking for Richard. She finds him almost immediately, but, enjoying the fabulous reverb effect on her mic, pretends to look for him a little while longer.
Being a kind soul, Chauncey decides to go on with the scene, as she knows the two ensemble members standing frozen pretending to be suits of armor are probably anxious to get on with things. She approaches Richard's cell. Then-- a snarl from downstage right. Here comes TUT NAY.
Chauncey analyzes him carefully. She's a dog person, normally, but given her immense respect for Richard, and knowing how much it would rock his world to be able to chill in the dressing room for the rest of the show, she decides to offer herself as a substitute. TUT NAY concedes. Chauncey feigns cowering on the floor- no way is she letting TUT NAY know that when he took off his hoodie, she could totally tell that his horns were squishy and now all she can think of when she sees him is giving them a squeeze.
TUT NAY grimly escorts Chauncey to her bedroom, hoping against hope that she will not notice that there is no door. Chauncey - again, having her wits about her- does notice, but decides to pretend she doesn't so that a performance of "Home" will make sense.
Following this plaintive ballad, the Coloratura Wardrobe Turtle makes her presence known just stage left of the bed. Initially alarmed, Chauncey is then both deeply impressed and disturbed to truly learn the lengths these people will go to protect themselves from TUT NAY's savagery.
Then Georgia comes in dressed a a teapot and sings for 10 bars and all is right with the world.
Meanwhile- again- back in the village, Mandon has taken over Hardywood and is slumped in his chair ruminating over what in the blazes it could be about his costume that is not convincing Chauncey that he is Matt Polson. His wig is on point, he's saying all the same lines, singing the same songs, WTF? Before he can sink too far into his ponderings Caleb (those are Audra's socks, damn it) prances is and proceeds to distract Mandon and the entire brewery with a song and dance number which, to a certain Evil Queen's credit, contains a dance break so intricate and fabulous it literally made a baby last Thursday at the matinee scream "Cheers!"
Back at the castle, TUT NAY has descended from his elaborate cat tower and is pacing with a platter of Fancy Feast. He's so caught up in figuring out how to appropriately address Chauncey that he takes no notice of the fact that her bedroom has mysteriously vanished. At a loss, he turns to the humans in the house for help. Georgia, the banister, the pharaoh, and Pyro-George all offer their best advice, but it's been so long since TUT NAY displayed any manners that even his best attempt at inviting Chauncey downstage right for the dinner-themed production number meet with failure. A tickling of a memory....did he once upon a time tell a girl named Audra that she ruined Christmas all because she overcooked an english muffin......? No, no. Another life.
Frustrated, TUT NAY retreats to his cat tower for a cat nap. He's got just the corner for such things.
But- as the saying goes- while the cat's away........the rest of the ensemble will perform an epic production number.
Chauncey sneaks away downstairs and is treated to a gorgeously performed dinner featuring solos by a knife, free-range pasta, and the magic carpet from "Aladdin." Floating on air, Chauncey ascends the stairs to her bed chamber, but is tempted by the shadowy recesses of the forbidden west wing. She's heard that show is VERY GOOD, and having yet to stream it on Netflix, decides to makes the most of her imprisonment and at the very least, get that series under her belt. She arrives at the top of the stairs, but to her surprise, discovers not a laptop computer but a glowing, floating rose! Awesome! It's so enchanting she momentarily forgets her impeccable theater training and is reaching for A PROP THAT ISN'T HERS (these people!) when suddenly TUT NAY leaps from the shadows! He roars, he scolds, he has a fit. Does she have any idea what that prop cost?!? Mortified, Chauncey flees the tower and races down the stairs, headed, no doubt, for the fabric forest and certain death. TUT NAY is horrified by what he has done, and that his cat instincts have gotten the better of him- never able to resist a string. He knows he must go after her! Plead with her to return! She's the only chance he has! But first- a power ballad.
TUT NAY dramatically descends the stairs from the tower and crosses all the way down into the courtyard. He is so wrapped up in his drama he completely misses the fact that his home is being repossessed right behind his back.
Finally, TUT NAY charges into the forest to save Chauncey. As he expected, she's been approached by that troupe of Fosse protesters. He's SO over them. Grateful for his recent turn as Curly in Riverside's "Oklahoma" for affording him dream ballet training, he leaps into the fray and makes short work of the troublesome troupe. Chauncey is impressed.
The two return to the palace where they proceed to make friends and fall into a more comedic pattern of speech. Things get going so well at one point TUT NAY deigns to gift Chauncey his entire library- all the while hoping against hope she won't notice that only one book in the whole place is actually functional.
Soon it's time for the title number. Everyone hustles to change. All parties enter grandly right on cue. TUT NAY nearly pulls a muscle in his crotch going for the Alexander Sapp "Summer in Smoke" wooing a lady pose on the staircase, but bravely forges on.
Then Georgia comes back out as a teapot and sings for even more bars and all is right with the world.
Chauncey and TUT NAY, after several successful rounds of dipping and nuzzling, retire downstage center where, overcome with passion, TUT NAY gifts Chauncey his favorite toy mirror from Party City which reminds her she better go backstage and check on Richard.
Dejected, but knowing he's done the right thing by letting Chauncey go, TUT NAY retreats to his cat tower and takes off his horns.
Meanwhile - again - back in the village, Caleb is still wearing Audra's socks and the rest of the ensemble is really spoiling for a production number. Seizing on any opportunity, they leap into song and dance at the illumination of Chauncey's party mirror and proceed to do epic crowd-pattern choreography the entire way into the fabric forest and right on up to the castle doors, whereupon the women and children immediately say cash me outside and leave the menfolk to handle the people dressed as appliances all on their own.
The castlefolk triumph- no problem. Except for Mandon Nolson- the lead bad guy- who they let slide upstairs unannounced. Mandon sneaks into the cat tower. This is GREAT, he thinks. Finally I'll rid the world of this TUT NAY, who is secretly actually my arch-nemesis Matt Polson, and both Chauncey and the role of Gaston will be MINE!
Poor Mandon. As he peels the pile of purple fabric posing as TUT NAY from the floor, he realizes it's not Matt Polson at all! It's a male ensemble member! Perhaps the selfsame ensemble member from the prologue seeking revenge? Too late! Mandon stabs the mystery ensemble member in the back and he who is pretending to be TUT NAY, outraged at having been attacked just because he was wearing the same purple cape Matt had on earlier, tosses Mandon off the back of the set. Where he may actually have died, for I haven't seen him since.
Exhausted from his efforts, but having satisfied his puppet grudge, Male Ensemble Member tags out with the actual TUT NAY, Matt Polson, for the end of the show. Matt staggers down the stairs and collapses in a heap on top of Chauncey who- carrying forward the theme of the show- proceeds to sing a plaintive reprise rather than attend to the matter at hand of TUT NAY BLEEDING TO DEATH IN HER LAP. "I love you.....," Chauncey whispers brokenly.
Cue fancy prop rose to drop the last lone petal. It drifts hauntingly to the tabletop. Nailed it.
All of a sudden, Tinkerbell- who we haven't seen in this theater since the last revival of "Peter Pan"- makes a surprising and psychedelic entrance. We don't know what she's been up to for the last 10 years but tonight she's clearly been to a rave and/or experimenting with shrooms. Her light flashes neon and fluorescent as she drunkenly pops into the cat tower and then falls to the pavement only to weave loopily up the staircase where she finally passes out atop TUT NAY's prone form.
Much as TUT NAY resents having his death scene stolen, he does not fail to see the golden opportunity of this situation. Rather than die, he thinks, why don't I just use the pixie dust Tink just spilled all over me to do something really dope? I'll fly! I'll FLY and - AND! I'LL TAKE OFF MY FAKE TEETH! Then we'll just see what Chauncey thinks of me then, now won't we!!!!
It's a good plan. TUT NAY thinks the happy thought of Chauncey scratching his ears for hours in his cat tower and flies right up into the air. "It's working!" he thinks happily. But then it gets even better. Thanks to Pyro-George and his over-indulgence in the war of appliance vs. townspeople the castle's fire extinguishers go off spontaneously and an amazing fog effect is created. Nailing it.
TUT NAY alights delicately on the platform next to Chauncey. She is, again, very impressed, though a bit concerned about Tinkerbell and her current comatose state. That aside, she thinks, this production of "Beauty & The Beast" is the best yet.
Tuesday, March 14, 2017
The End of the Cellist
There's been a cellist kidnapping in Berlin.
Fortunately (or unfortunately depending on your perspective), the kidnapper was absolutely horrible at his (or her) job.
Before we even arrive at lights up, we are very clear on the fact that the recent kidnapping has plunged the city into a state of despair. Smoke wafts from crannies. Vagrants wander the streets. They feel sad. Not only in response to the recent crime but also because they don't feel seen. They have learned-as a result of numerous unsuccessful bids for attention-that their wall and street-colored clothing renders them all but invisible to passerby. Two of these resigned vagrants pass time as the audience takes their seats playing a grippingly morose game of Stone Brick Jenga downstage right. Losing the game, the female vagrant wanders dejectedly offstage right, leaving her male counterpart onstage to face the back wall of the theater and contemplate the fact that his life has been reduced to the futile pursuit of holding perfectly still while dressed as a wall and reflecting on his loss at Brick Jenga while the new Artistic Director delivers an eloquent and professional curtain speech to start the show.
And we begin!
Eva kicks things off with a brisk and period appropriate cello-straddle. Joseph Bromfield (who is very good and delivers a world-class curtain speech himself- I've seen it) is demonstrating his acting range by portraying a 199 year-old man who'd really like Eva to play another song, but Eva knows this isn't really a musical and therefore, we responsibly forge ahead.
Nick Aliff enters the stage. He is, as always, very tall and, as such, able to lift extremely heavy items- in this case, a knapsack the size of an apartment complex. Some guy named after a wild animal trots onstage immediately following with his own gargantuan backpack and the two split a Lean Cuisine whilst engaging in what will prove to be the first of many thickly accented dialogues about whose backpack is heavier and who should get to carry the only gray blanket.
Agreeing for the moment to disagree, the two men exit stage left and the incredible Eva enters through a hole in the wall for her striptease. The audience is on the edge of their seats, but suffer disappointment as Eva is distracted immediately by the giant movie playing on the wall behind her. Paying no regard to the age old admonition not to stand that closely to the television, she turns and watches the movie mere inches from the screen. She adopts and admirably holds a strong and dramatic stance while doing so, however, so we excuse her faux pas.
Following the film- which was absolutely exquisite- Eva decides to see what's going on in the center of the set. Perhaps that will be three dimensional. She hopes so. The projected movie was achingly lovely, but she can't help but wonder what could've been if there hadn't been the unfortunate hindrance of the enormous stone wall onstage. No projections would've been needed! Just imagine the sets which could have been built. Especially when you've got talented folk like Bruce Rennie and Luke Robinson on hand.
Stepping atop the centerstage platform, Eva makes the acquaintance of a blond lady never before seen in these parts. She informs Eva that she is, in fact, her mother. Great, Eva thinks. I'll sit on this couch and complain about some stuff while simultaneously conducting an absolute master class on Keeping One's Knees Together While Acting On A Platform In A Knee-Length Skirt.
Amidst Eva's diatribe, we learn that the leading cellist of the Berlin Philharmonic has gone missing! Woe and despair! What will the orchestra do? Eva pretends to be bummed out at this turn of events but is secretly delighted because Andy Boothby has called her into his office earlier and secretly offered her the job of replacement cellist. And....she's decided to accept.
Eva's mother listens in astonishment. I mean, it's obvious. Completely and utterly obvious that she- Eva's blond mother- has kidnapped the cellist. She's RIGHT THERE. Straddling her cello on a platform in the very same living room in which Eva sits monologuing. Hmm. Perhaps Eva's eyesight is not as it should be-- wait. Drat and blast! It's that infernal habit Eva refuses to break of sitting too close to the television. She's told her....
Having relayed her news, Eva skips daintily away in her fetching little peep toe slingback heel, narrowly missing the re-entrance of Nick and Nick's tailgater. The two men have grown tired of warring over the weights of their backpacks and have moved on to debating who can do a thicker Russian/German/Scottish/British/Irish accent. This is a very entertaining war, which stretches on into the next day whereupon they exit stage left to begin again the arduous journey back around to stage right for their next entrance.
Suddenly, Eva's right foot pops out of the sewer. She struggles heroically and impressively to enter the stage from the orchestra pit- with her cello- all the while managing not to run her pantyhose. She staggers into her blond mother's house. Exhausted from her efforts, she drops her cello case in the sitting room (still completely oblivious to the captive cellist above) and plops down- modestly- on the couch. All at once she remembers the existence of the side door and could just kick herself for having gone through all the trouble of entering the house from a hole in the ground when she could have simply used the side entrance. She will not make that mistake again.
The blond mother enters the scene. She reveals that she has been hiding lunches in a hole in the floor. And on top of that- she has been hiding Scott Wichmann in the pantry. Eva is horrorstruck. Nobody keeps her husband in the pantry! (Eva is also privately concerned because she sees no logical reason for her mother to be hiding snacks in the floor if the being for whom those snacks are intended is not hiding in the floor as well.) A bitter debate ensues, but before a resolution can be reached, Eva has to leave for the theater and Nick Aliff has to vomit.
A very smart actor, Nick realizes the dramatic impact vomiting will have upon his opening night audience and holds it all in until he has managed to stagger all the way to centerstage. There- he lets it rip. Or drip, as it were. Gross, gross, gross.*
After a moment to gather himself, Nick and his companion agree to exit the scene so he can regain his composure.
Eva and her mother resume their conversation. They both miss Eva's father. But when pressed, Eva confesses, "When I see the bricks, I only see the bricks." Her mother fights back tears. Here- further proof that Eva's eyesight is failing.
As the gravity of looming Lasik settles over the sitting room, Nick has recovered and is ready for his next entrance. Feeling not yet 100%, he elects to take a seat on a fake boulder downstage left for his upcoming monologue. His companion- who continues to be all up in Nick's personal business- selfishly steals half of the sick man's blanket and they sit snuggled while Nick waxes rhapsodic in thickly accented Russian. At moments he becomes delirious, yelling about sauerkraut, crucial bits of the female anatomy, and whether or not his companion believes in someone named "Gus."
On the bright side- Eva's debut in the orchestral chair of the kidnapped cellist goes remarkably well. So much so that she returns home and raves about the experience in front of her mother and the cellist herself. Just tactless, really.
Thing seem to be getting out of hand. Far downstage, two actors enter with Nick & Co. and immediately realize they are wearing each other's pants. Embarrassed but professional, Nick and Nosy Blanket Boy improv a touching scene about the existence of God while the other two actors swap costumes.
Crisis averted, we find ourselves back in the sitting room. Overcome with pity for her nearly blind daughter, blond mother decides to allow Eva to speak to her husband in the pantry. The scene is set. Eva sinks into a chair by the pantry door. Suddenly, Scott speaks. The audience is instantly put at ease- it cannot be but so bad living in the pantry if one is afforded a body mic equipped with reverb with which to communicate. Scott's doing a killer job in his role- even vocally you can hear him tear up and be completely committed to the character- but Eva's heard him rehearse this a zillion times at home and finds herself zoning out for a minute when she realizes her entire torso would disappear were she to stand in front of the pantry door, given that her top matches the pantry door paint to a tee.
The audience is cozily wrapped in this quiet moment when Nick suddenly enters with great purpose and seats himself on the abandoned game of Stone Brick Jenga. He proceeds to deliver a gripping monologue to an entirely invisible entity in the first balcony while himself gripping two slices of beef jerky in his fists.
A well-seasoned actor, Scott is growing concerned behind his door. Just where is this sonnet about seasoned meat going? Is Nick suffering delirium from his earlier bout of nausea? He decides he can't take the chance of anything potentially derailing the play. This is, after all, a world premiere worthy of two Newbery Book Award stickers on the opening night playbill. Out of respect for the hours of time it probably took VA-Reps interns to apply those stickers and of his boating and oft-sockless friend-theplaywright-Scott bursts from the pantry to take back control of the play.
The cast holds its breath. Entrance applause here would really splinter the mood. This audience though- is a smart one. They remain appropriately silent and respectful. Whether or not they bit the insides of their cheeks to stifle their joyous hoots at Scott's appearance shall remain a mystery.
It's worked. No one remembers quite where they were in their personal dramas. After a few moments of confusion, Eva and her mother decide to go to the grocery store just to get things back to normal. They leave Scott in the sitting room, but direct his attention to the giant movie screen upstage so he won't be bored. Grocery shopping is proving successful until- Oh no! Nick and Nosy Blanket Thief have decided to go grocery shopping at the same time! All four parties stop dead upon encountering each other. Nick hasn't seen Eva since "Sam & Carol!" They size each other up. Eva and her mother decide to retreat. A wise call.
We imagine all could have been well- Eva and her mother arrive home, dust Scott off, convince him that cellist theft is "the thing to do" and nothing to be alarmed about, and we all live happily ever after knowing that Andy Boothby has achieved his dream of pretending to be in a production of "The Sound of Music" downstage left.
But for "Westworld." Eva, you see, has been watching "Westworld" on HBO and simply cannot let go of her dream of pretending to be Dolores dropping her can of beans on Main Street. Against all better judgment, she decides to go back for the can she dropped as she and her mother fled the grocery store.
We knew it would happen. Privately, our kidnapped cellist revels in the karma she sees playing out beneath her. Nick and his companion spy Eva as she nimbly snatches her can from the street and....they follow her home. Nick-an avid theatergoer-is overcome upon finding Scott Wichmann in the house and immediately reconsiders his poor life choices, but his loyal companion has had no such theatrical exposure. Entirely unmoved by Scott's presence, all he can think about is finding out whether or not the top half of Eva's body matches the pantry door with or without her sweater. He claws at her top.
Having nothing but the deepest and most well-deserved respect for the costumers of VA-Rep, Eva is ready to do anything and everything to avoid her costume falling into a state of disrepair and cleverly fools Nick's crony by curling up on the couch in the fetal position and pretending to nap for the rest of the scene. Foiled.
Nick has seen enough. He decides this family will adopt him. If they don't, he'll vomit on them and squash them under his backpack.
And so, most all is well. Scott is released from the closet, Eva's hose remain unscathed, Nick has found a home with people who will share his penchant for accents and dramatic storytelling.
But the cellist........
Sequel?
*I confess to having paid zero attention to the next five minutes of the play due to being preoccupied wondering what exactly, was that stage vomit composed of ? Was it yummy? Squishy? I think I'd want it to be cherries if it were me. Or like, mashed potato and cheese casserole.
Fortunately (or unfortunately depending on your perspective), the kidnapper was absolutely horrible at his (or her) job.
Before we even arrive at lights up, we are very clear on the fact that the recent kidnapping has plunged the city into a state of despair. Smoke wafts from crannies. Vagrants wander the streets. They feel sad. Not only in response to the recent crime but also because they don't feel seen. They have learned-as a result of numerous unsuccessful bids for attention-that their wall and street-colored clothing renders them all but invisible to passerby. Two of these resigned vagrants pass time as the audience takes their seats playing a grippingly morose game of Stone Brick Jenga downstage right. Losing the game, the female vagrant wanders dejectedly offstage right, leaving her male counterpart onstage to face the back wall of the theater and contemplate the fact that his life has been reduced to the futile pursuit of holding perfectly still while dressed as a wall and reflecting on his loss at Brick Jenga while the new Artistic Director delivers an eloquent and professional curtain speech to start the show.
And we begin!
Eva kicks things off with a brisk and period appropriate cello-straddle. Joseph Bromfield (who is very good and delivers a world-class curtain speech himself- I've seen it) is demonstrating his acting range by portraying a 199 year-old man who'd really like Eva to play another song, but Eva knows this isn't really a musical and therefore, we responsibly forge ahead.
Nick Aliff enters the stage. He is, as always, very tall and, as such, able to lift extremely heavy items- in this case, a knapsack the size of an apartment complex. Some guy named after a wild animal trots onstage immediately following with his own gargantuan backpack and the two split a Lean Cuisine whilst engaging in what will prove to be the first of many thickly accented dialogues about whose backpack is heavier and who should get to carry the only gray blanket.
Agreeing for the moment to disagree, the two men exit stage left and the incredible Eva enters through a hole in the wall for her striptease. The audience is on the edge of their seats, but suffer disappointment as Eva is distracted immediately by the giant movie playing on the wall behind her. Paying no regard to the age old admonition not to stand that closely to the television, she turns and watches the movie mere inches from the screen. She adopts and admirably holds a strong and dramatic stance while doing so, however, so we excuse her faux pas.
Following the film- which was absolutely exquisite- Eva decides to see what's going on in the center of the set. Perhaps that will be three dimensional. She hopes so. The projected movie was achingly lovely, but she can't help but wonder what could've been if there hadn't been the unfortunate hindrance of the enormous stone wall onstage. No projections would've been needed! Just imagine the sets which could have been built. Especially when you've got talented folk like Bruce Rennie and Luke Robinson on hand.
Stepping atop the centerstage platform, Eva makes the acquaintance of a blond lady never before seen in these parts. She informs Eva that she is, in fact, her mother. Great, Eva thinks. I'll sit on this couch and complain about some stuff while simultaneously conducting an absolute master class on Keeping One's Knees Together While Acting On A Platform In A Knee-Length Skirt.
Amidst Eva's diatribe, we learn that the leading cellist of the Berlin Philharmonic has gone missing! Woe and despair! What will the orchestra do? Eva pretends to be bummed out at this turn of events but is secretly delighted because Andy Boothby has called her into his office earlier and secretly offered her the job of replacement cellist. And....she's decided to accept.
Eva's mother listens in astonishment. I mean, it's obvious. Completely and utterly obvious that she- Eva's blond mother- has kidnapped the cellist. She's RIGHT THERE. Straddling her cello on a platform in the very same living room in which Eva sits monologuing. Hmm. Perhaps Eva's eyesight is not as it should be-- wait. Drat and blast! It's that infernal habit Eva refuses to break of sitting too close to the television. She's told her....
Having relayed her news, Eva skips daintily away in her fetching little peep toe slingback heel, narrowly missing the re-entrance of Nick and Nick's tailgater. The two men have grown tired of warring over the weights of their backpacks and have moved on to debating who can do a thicker Russian/German/Scottish/British/Irish accent. This is a very entertaining war, which stretches on into the next day whereupon they exit stage left to begin again the arduous journey back around to stage right for their next entrance.
Suddenly, Eva's right foot pops out of the sewer. She struggles heroically and impressively to enter the stage from the orchestra pit- with her cello- all the while managing not to run her pantyhose. She staggers into her blond mother's house. Exhausted from her efforts, she drops her cello case in the sitting room (still completely oblivious to the captive cellist above) and plops down- modestly- on the couch. All at once she remembers the existence of the side door and could just kick herself for having gone through all the trouble of entering the house from a hole in the ground when she could have simply used the side entrance. She will not make that mistake again.
The blond mother enters the scene. She reveals that she has been hiding lunches in a hole in the floor. And on top of that- she has been hiding Scott Wichmann in the pantry. Eva is horrorstruck. Nobody keeps her husband in the pantry! (Eva is also privately concerned because she sees no logical reason for her mother to be hiding snacks in the floor if the being for whom those snacks are intended is not hiding in the floor as well.) A bitter debate ensues, but before a resolution can be reached, Eva has to leave for the theater and Nick Aliff has to vomit.
A very smart actor, Nick realizes the dramatic impact vomiting will have upon his opening night audience and holds it all in until he has managed to stagger all the way to centerstage. There- he lets it rip. Or drip, as it were. Gross, gross, gross.*
After a moment to gather himself, Nick and his companion agree to exit the scene so he can regain his composure.
Eva and her mother resume their conversation. They both miss Eva's father. But when pressed, Eva confesses, "When I see the bricks, I only see the bricks." Her mother fights back tears. Here- further proof that Eva's eyesight is failing.
As the gravity of looming Lasik settles over the sitting room, Nick has recovered and is ready for his next entrance. Feeling not yet 100%, he elects to take a seat on a fake boulder downstage left for his upcoming monologue. His companion- who continues to be all up in Nick's personal business- selfishly steals half of the sick man's blanket and they sit snuggled while Nick waxes rhapsodic in thickly accented Russian. At moments he becomes delirious, yelling about sauerkraut, crucial bits of the female anatomy, and whether or not his companion believes in someone named "Gus."
On the bright side- Eva's debut in the orchestral chair of the kidnapped cellist goes remarkably well. So much so that she returns home and raves about the experience in front of her mother and the cellist herself. Just tactless, really.
Thing seem to be getting out of hand. Far downstage, two actors enter with Nick & Co. and immediately realize they are wearing each other's pants. Embarrassed but professional, Nick and Nosy Blanket Boy improv a touching scene about the existence of God while the other two actors swap costumes.
Crisis averted, we find ourselves back in the sitting room. Overcome with pity for her nearly blind daughter, blond mother decides to allow Eva to speak to her husband in the pantry. The scene is set. Eva sinks into a chair by the pantry door. Suddenly, Scott speaks. The audience is instantly put at ease- it cannot be but so bad living in the pantry if one is afforded a body mic equipped with reverb with which to communicate. Scott's doing a killer job in his role- even vocally you can hear him tear up and be completely committed to the character- but Eva's heard him rehearse this a zillion times at home and finds herself zoning out for a minute when she realizes her entire torso would disappear were she to stand in front of the pantry door, given that her top matches the pantry door paint to a tee.
The audience is cozily wrapped in this quiet moment when Nick suddenly enters with great purpose and seats himself on the abandoned game of Stone Brick Jenga. He proceeds to deliver a gripping monologue to an entirely invisible entity in the first balcony while himself gripping two slices of beef jerky in his fists.
A well-seasoned actor, Scott is growing concerned behind his door. Just where is this sonnet about seasoned meat going? Is Nick suffering delirium from his earlier bout of nausea? He decides he can't take the chance of anything potentially derailing the play. This is, after all, a world premiere worthy of two Newbery Book Award stickers on the opening night playbill. Out of respect for the hours of time it probably took VA-Reps interns to apply those stickers and of his boating and oft-sockless friend-theplaywright-Scott bursts from the pantry to take back control of the play.
The cast holds its breath. Entrance applause here would really splinter the mood. This audience though- is a smart one. They remain appropriately silent and respectful. Whether or not they bit the insides of their cheeks to stifle their joyous hoots at Scott's appearance shall remain a mystery.
It's worked. No one remembers quite where they were in their personal dramas. After a few moments of confusion, Eva and her mother decide to go to the grocery store just to get things back to normal. They leave Scott in the sitting room, but direct his attention to the giant movie screen upstage so he won't be bored. Grocery shopping is proving successful until- Oh no! Nick and Nosy Blanket Thief have decided to go grocery shopping at the same time! All four parties stop dead upon encountering each other. Nick hasn't seen Eva since "Sam & Carol!" They size each other up. Eva and her mother decide to retreat. A wise call.
We imagine all could have been well- Eva and her mother arrive home, dust Scott off, convince him that cellist theft is "the thing to do" and nothing to be alarmed about, and we all live happily ever after knowing that Andy Boothby has achieved his dream of pretending to be in a production of "The Sound of Music" downstage left.
But for "Westworld." Eva, you see, has been watching "Westworld" on HBO and simply cannot let go of her dream of pretending to be Dolores dropping her can of beans on Main Street. Against all better judgment, she decides to go back for the can she dropped as she and her mother fled the grocery store.
We knew it would happen. Privately, our kidnapped cellist revels in the karma she sees playing out beneath her. Nick and his companion spy Eva as she nimbly snatches her can from the street and....they follow her home. Nick-an avid theatergoer-is overcome upon finding Scott Wichmann in the house and immediately reconsiders his poor life choices, but his loyal companion has had no such theatrical exposure. Entirely unmoved by Scott's presence, all he can think about is finding out whether or not the top half of Eva's body matches the pantry door with or without her sweater. He claws at her top.
Having nothing but the deepest and most well-deserved respect for the costumers of VA-Rep, Eva is ready to do anything and everything to avoid her costume falling into a state of disrepair and cleverly fools Nick's crony by curling up on the couch in the fetal position and pretending to nap for the rest of the scene. Foiled.
Nick has seen enough. He decides this family will adopt him. If they don't, he'll vomit on them and squash them under his backpack.
And so, most all is well. Scott is released from the closet, Eva's hose remain unscathed, Nick has found a home with people who will share his penchant for accents and dramatic storytelling.
But the cellist........
Sequel?
*I confess to having paid zero attention to the next five minutes of the play due to being preoccupied wondering what exactly, was that stage vomit composed of ? Was it yummy? Squishy? I think I'd want it to be cherries if it were me. Or like, mashed potato and cheese casserole.
Thursday, March 2, 2017
Violet
"Violet" is the story of a girl named Beige.
Beige lives in Beigetown. She has beige eyes and beige hair; she wears only beige clothes.
Beige's world is composed of plywood, porches, and bathrooms. All beige.
Amidst the tedium, Beige's brain boils with one burning quest. So you understand, I'll relay the tale....
Once upon a time, many generations ago, Joe Pabst's great-great-great grandfather was a small boy growing up in Beigetown. Possessing traits which would be apparent in his descendants even in 2017, the little boy was very bright and curious. Very talented. He wanted to sing and act and dance. But- all these things were forbidden in Beigetown. Stifled all through his teen years, he married and had a daughter. Resigned to conform to the norm, he named her Beige. One day, as our young man gloomily contemplated his murky future in the murky waters of the crik, a small leaflet washed ashore. Ever vigilant in his fight against litter, he fished it out. Crumpled it in his fist. As rivulets of beige water ran down his wrist and wet the hem of his beige shirt, he became curious. Flattening out the crumpled leaflet he read: "Stage Makeup Tutorial! Next Tuesday! Next Town Over!"
Well. Nothing could stop him. Pulling all strings to conceal his true purpose, he sneaks away the next week to attend the workshop. Wonder of wonders! The theatricality! The vibrant colors! He floats home newly possessed of some small hope for the future and of a small bruise palette he has secreted away as a memento of what he is sure will prove to be the greatest night he will ever live to see.
Thinking the thrill of that one night could get him through the rest of his years, the young man quickly realizes that is not the case. Now that he's seen a glimmer of the colors life has to offer, he craves more. One night, while his missus is out buying material for the kid's waffle and pancake Halloween costumes, he calls Beige to his side. There, guided by candlelight- he shares his discovery with his daughter. The vivid red gash he creates across her face could have won a Ratcock. The moment is bittersweet, however, for in sharing his passion with his daughter- he sees her eyes come alive. He sees the color excite her the same way it excites him. He wonders if this moment of joy will be worth the lifetime of deprivation that is sure to follow for his little girl. He cleans her face and sends her to bed, not knowing the odyssey he has set in motion.
Ten years later.
Beige is bored. Despite the fact that a band has moved to town and is squatting in the middle of Main Street, the only thing in life that provides her any amusement at all is the inexplicable Magical Potty Portal just to the right of the town saloon. Nothing much else to do in life, she found herself one afternoon zoned out staring at the ladies bathroom door. She was jolted out of her trance, however, when moments after a lady entered what she knew to be the one stall chamber, a man emerged. Now- Beige was all for gender neutral restrooms but this seemed peculiar. She took to watching this Potty Portal every afternoon for two hours after school. Oh, the things she saw. People entered never to be seen again. Men routinely changed into women and vice versa. Most alarmingly, one time Scott Melton went in and came back out two minutes later as Josh Marin and Katrinah Carol-Lewis. Beige worked up the nerve to ask Josh and Katrinah for their autographs because they really are very talented, but failed to muster the balls to ask them what had happened to them in the bathroom. Perhaps she didn't really want to know. Perhaps having the Magical Potty Portal Mystery exist kept her from being so bored she couldn't stand it. Bored and frustrated by the memory of that beautiful bright red stage makeup scar her father had given her years ago. Oh, how she longed for color.
Suddenly, the Magical Potty Portal expels.......Matt Polson. Beige glances over. He's got a cute face and quite a wingspan. Perhaps he's interesting.....but no. No no. He's wearing khaki. Blander than beige, if that's possible. Things go from bad to worse when her good buddy Josh- who often regales her with tales of his time in a far away land called Richmond selling novelty popsicles and wearing many-colored sunglasses and tank tops- takes a shine to Matt Polson and starts wearing khaki as well. Yawn. He hardly pays attention to her anymore, preferring instead to pass the time participating in lively pop trios about his card-playing prowess and having extremely close face-to-face conversations with his new best friend Matt.
O.M.GEEEEEEEEEE. WHAT in the dickens is Beige going to do? All at once she has an idea. No- it's too crazy.....but maybe......no. It couldn't possibly work......could it? She decides to try.
Gathering the town just downstage of the saloon facade, Beige makes her announcement. She tells the townspeople she knows this is radical, but she suspects some of them might be pining for a bit of excitement as well, and, if that's indeed the case.....would they be willing to join her in- what could very well prove the most exhilarating activity the town has ever seen: (drumroll, here- lucky there's a band).............. Arranging All The Furniture On Main Street Into A Variety Of Differently Shaped Buses?!??!?
The town is dubious as a whole. Katrinah goes back to her book. Forrest replaces some wayward tendrils in his elegant low bun. But then Eric Williams- always a beacon of positivity- leaps to his feet and announces that he thinks it's a great idea and not only that- he happens to be the proud owner of a bus driver costume which he'd be happy to contribute. Scott Melton chimes in with the news that he figures he and Eric wear just about the same size and could take turns playing the bus driver if necessary! Eyes brimming with murky tears, Beige announces the plan is a go!
For the next few weeks, the town is bustling with a sense of love and community never before experienced! Everyone contributes porch chairs and benches. Their fanciest beige bus-riding costumes. The posse of orchestral squatters refuses to move, which throws a minor kink in things, but after they agree to play some lively travelling music, all is forgiven. And oh, the buses they arrange. First- the world's widest bus. Only 1.5 rows! Next, a slight variation on the world's widest bus (because the first was such a hit), followed by a sideways facing bus (with 6-7 rows!), and finally- following a town meeting which ran into the wee hours to ascertain and responsibly acknowledge all the potential risks involved- a BACKWARD FACING BUS.
Adrenaline abounds. Everyone brims with excitement and creativity. The future is looking bright! That is until Josh, having lost one too many times to Matt Polson in poker, decides to renew his friendship with Beige. He starts horning his way back into her life. Sneaky and underhanded- only thinking of himself- he starts to pull Beige away from the bus project that has brought meaning to her life and united the community. He starts doing shady things- like secretly rearranging two of the chairs in the latest bus configuration to face away from the others just so he and Beige can talk privately. He goes so far as to haul a bed out into the middle of the bus staging area to attempt a seduction. Entranced by the vivid colors in the blue quilt Josh has clearly smuggled into Beigetown from the aforementioned land of popsicles and sunglasses, Beige agrees to spend some time on the bed one night while the rest of the town is on their Equity break. Before Josh can enact his lustful plan, however, Matt Polson- who has been privately seething in the Potty Portal because Josh got way more solo time in the card-playing pop trio earlier- decides he's had enough and foils Josh's lascivious plot by emerging full steam from the Potty Portal and leaping up onto the bed, where he proceeds to simultaneously out-gyrate Josh and secure Beige's affections for himself.
The evening ends, as you may expect, badly. Enchanting blue quilt now soiled with dirt- beige dirt- from Matt's beige shoes, it holds no appeal. The pair of khaki boy belters have lost their appeal as well, due to immature bratty behavior and overly-ostentatious lounging on porch railings. Even the townspeople have deserted her- disappearing one by one into the Potty Portal after they see her attention has been pulled away from the bus project. Even a last ditch attempt of a staged church revival starring that boy from 5th Wall's "Carrie- the Musical" in a sweater vest does nothing to reunite the town.
All seems lost. Sad and disoriented now that everyone has reclaimed their donated patio furniture, Beige finds herself one night delivering some truly brilliant acting and feeling a glimmer of hope- until she realizes she's delivering said acting from the back of the house and no one can see her except for Audra. And probably Chase, who is running lights and doing a really solid job of hacking up a kidney every time the cast arrives at a quietly emotional moment onstage.
This is really the last straw. Beige can think of no other hope. She is turning to exit when- wait. From the corner of one beige eye- what is that she sees? She rubs her beige eye with her beige sleeve. For a moment she thought she saw it- that blessed and beautiful red she remembers from her dreams! Could it be? Could it.....YES! It's Robyn O'Neill! Coming into town from upstage right of the squatters dressed in her costume from Swift Creek Mill's "Pete & Keely!" Gloriously vivid red emanates from her entire being! Her hair, the hair under her hair.....oh, blessed day! And no one dares to question Robyn O'Neill.
And thusly, unity, color, and hope returned to Beigetown. Returned to stay.*
*The Magical Potty Portal remains unexplained.
Beige lives in Beigetown. She has beige eyes and beige hair; she wears only beige clothes.
Beige's world is composed of plywood, porches, and bathrooms. All beige.
Amidst the tedium, Beige's brain boils with one burning quest. So you understand, I'll relay the tale....
Once upon a time, many generations ago, Joe Pabst's great-great-great grandfather was a small boy growing up in Beigetown. Possessing traits which would be apparent in his descendants even in 2017, the little boy was very bright and curious. Very talented. He wanted to sing and act and dance. But- all these things were forbidden in Beigetown. Stifled all through his teen years, he married and had a daughter. Resigned to conform to the norm, he named her Beige. One day, as our young man gloomily contemplated his murky future in the murky waters of the crik, a small leaflet washed ashore. Ever vigilant in his fight against litter, he fished it out. Crumpled it in his fist. As rivulets of beige water ran down his wrist and wet the hem of his beige shirt, he became curious. Flattening out the crumpled leaflet he read: "Stage Makeup Tutorial! Next Tuesday! Next Town Over!"
Well. Nothing could stop him. Pulling all strings to conceal his true purpose, he sneaks away the next week to attend the workshop. Wonder of wonders! The theatricality! The vibrant colors! He floats home newly possessed of some small hope for the future and of a small bruise palette he has secreted away as a memento of what he is sure will prove to be the greatest night he will ever live to see.
Thinking the thrill of that one night could get him through the rest of his years, the young man quickly realizes that is not the case. Now that he's seen a glimmer of the colors life has to offer, he craves more. One night, while his missus is out buying material for the kid's waffle and pancake Halloween costumes, he calls Beige to his side. There, guided by candlelight- he shares his discovery with his daughter. The vivid red gash he creates across her face could have won a Ratcock. The moment is bittersweet, however, for in sharing his passion with his daughter- he sees her eyes come alive. He sees the color excite her the same way it excites him. He wonders if this moment of joy will be worth the lifetime of deprivation that is sure to follow for his little girl. He cleans her face and sends her to bed, not knowing the odyssey he has set in motion.
Ten years later.
Beige is bored. Despite the fact that a band has moved to town and is squatting in the middle of Main Street, the only thing in life that provides her any amusement at all is the inexplicable Magical Potty Portal just to the right of the town saloon. Nothing much else to do in life, she found herself one afternoon zoned out staring at the ladies bathroom door. She was jolted out of her trance, however, when moments after a lady entered what she knew to be the one stall chamber, a man emerged. Now- Beige was all for gender neutral restrooms but this seemed peculiar. She took to watching this Potty Portal every afternoon for two hours after school. Oh, the things she saw. People entered never to be seen again. Men routinely changed into women and vice versa. Most alarmingly, one time Scott Melton went in and came back out two minutes later as Josh Marin and Katrinah Carol-Lewis. Beige worked up the nerve to ask Josh and Katrinah for their autographs because they really are very talented, but failed to muster the balls to ask them what had happened to them in the bathroom. Perhaps she didn't really want to know. Perhaps having the Magical Potty Portal Mystery exist kept her from being so bored she couldn't stand it. Bored and frustrated by the memory of that beautiful bright red stage makeup scar her father had given her years ago. Oh, how she longed for color.
Suddenly, the Magical Potty Portal expels.......Matt Polson. Beige glances over. He's got a cute face and quite a wingspan. Perhaps he's interesting.....but no. No no. He's wearing khaki. Blander than beige, if that's possible. Things go from bad to worse when her good buddy Josh- who often regales her with tales of his time in a far away land called Richmond selling novelty popsicles and wearing many-colored sunglasses and tank tops- takes a shine to Matt Polson and starts wearing khaki as well. Yawn. He hardly pays attention to her anymore, preferring instead to pass the time participating in lively pop trios about his card-playing prowess and having extremely close face-to-face conversations with his new best friend Matt.
O.M.GEEEEEEEEEE. WHAT in the dickens is Beige going to do? All at once she has an idea. No- it's too crazy.....but maybe......no. It couldn't possibly work......could it? She decides to try.
Gathering the town just downstage of the saloon facade, Beige makes her announcement. She tells the townspeople she knows this is radical, but she suspects some of them might be pining for a bit of excitement as well, and, if that's indeed the case.....would they be willing to join her in- what could very well prove the most exhilarating activity the town has ever seen: (drumroll, here- lucky there's a band).............. Arranging All The Furniture On Main Street Into A Variety Of Differently Shaped Buses?!??!?
The town is dubious as a whole. Katrinah goes back to her book. Forrest replaces some wayward tendrils in his elegant low bun. But then Eric Williams- always a beacon of positivity- leaps to his feet and announces that he thinks it's a great idea and not only that- he happens to be the proud owner of a bus driver costume which he'd be happy to contribute. Scott Melton chimes in with the news that he figures he and Eric wear just about the same size and could take turns playing the bus driver if necessary! Eyes brimming with murky tears, Beige announces the plan is a go!
For the next few weeks, the town is bustling with a sense of love and community never before experienced! Everyone contributes porch chairs and benches. Their fanciest beige bus-riding costumes. The posse of orchestral squatters refuses to move, which throws a minor kink in things, but after they agree to play some lively travelling music, all is forgiven. And oh, the buses they arrange. First- the world's widest bus. Only 1.5 rows! Next, a slight variation on the world's widest bus (because the first was such a hit), followed by a sideways facing bus (with 6-7 rows!), and finally- following a town meeting which ran into the wee hours to ascertain and responsibly acknowledge all the potential risks involved- a BACKWARD FACING BUS.
Adrenaline abounds. Everyone brims with excitement and creativity. The future is looking bright! That is until Josh, having lost one too many times to Matt Polson in poker, decides to renew his friendship with Beige. He starts horning his way back into her life. Sneaky and underhanded- only thinking of himself- he starts to pull Beige away from the bus project that has brought meaning to her life and united the community. He starts doing shady things- like secretly rearranging two of the chairs in the latest bus configuration to face away from the others just so he and Beige can talk privately. He goes so far as to haul a bed out into the middle of the bus staging area to attempt a seduction. Entranced by the vivid colors in the blue quilt Josh has clearly smuggled into Beigetown from the aforementioned land of popsicles and sunglasses, Beige agrees to spend some time on the bed one night while the rest of the town is on their Equity break. Before Josh can enact his lustful plan, however, Matt Polson- who has been privately seething in the Potty Portal because Josh got way more solo time in the card-playing pop trio earlier- decides he's had enough and foils Josh's lascivious plot by emerging full steam from the Potty Portal and leaping up onto the bed, where he proceeds to simultaneously out-gyrate Josh and secure Beige's affections for himself.
The evening ends, as you may expect, badly. Enchanting blue quilt now soiled with dirt- beige dirt- from Matt's beige shoes, it holds no appeal. The pair of khaki boy belters have lost their appeal as well, due to immature bratty behavior and overly-ostentatious lounging on porch railings. Even the townspeople have deserted her- disappearing one by one into the Potty Portal after they see her attention has been pulled away from the bus project. Even a last ditch attempt of a staged church revival starring that boy from 5th Wall's "Carrie- the Musical" in a sweater vest does nothing to reunite the town.
All seems lost. Sad and disoriented now that everyone has reclaimed their donated patio furniture, Beige finds herself one night delivering some truly brilliant acting and feeling a glimmer of hope- until she realizes she's delivering said acting from the back of the house and no one can see her except for Audra. And probably Chase, who is running lights and doing a really solid job of hacking up a kidney every time the cast arrives at a quietly emotional moment onstage.
This is really the last straw. Beige can think of no other hope. She is turning to exit when- wait. From the corner of one beige eye- what is that she sees? She rubs her beige eye with her beige sleeve. For a moment she thought she saw it- that blessed and beautiful red she remembers from her dreams! Could it be? Could it.....YES! It's Robyn O'Neill! Coming into town from upstage right of the squatters dressed in her costume from Swift Creek Mill's "Pete & Keely!" Gloriously vivid red emanates from her entire being! Her hair, the hair under her hair.....oh, blessed day! And no one dares to question Robyn O'Neill.
And thusly, unity, color, and hope returned to Beigetown. Returned to stay.*
*The Magical Potty Portal remains unexplained.
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