The Thespian's Alphabet-I

I is for intermission.

Now, when it comes to HELP, we ALWAYS, repeat ALWAYS, do junior versions. Fiddler on the Roof, they cut out the dream sequence(which we put back in-HA!), The Rumor, Little Chavaleh, and Now I Have Everything-which was one of the songs I would have been in, thank you. Seussical-Havin' A Hunch, reprises, and even part of the plotline. Really?! It just happens with junior versions. Still fun, but not the whole experience. When you also have group voice, numerous musical classes, MT Jr., and who knows what else performing, really, we wouldn't have TIME for the uncut version. Thus, no intermission. 

We have an intermission of our own, however.

For some odd reason, talent runs through family when it comes to MT at HELP. Adam, Bekah, Caleb, and I, for some, have the ability to play "mentor" to Bram, Cora, Rikah, Sam, and Abby, who are, I must boast, QUITE talented, and have a tendency to snag roles that make the audience believe that too. HOWEVER. This means that we, as the older siblings, are pressed into service as backstage help. Last year saw us, along with our roles in Annie, with me being a backstage hand and the rest on crew. OUR intermission, is when the little rascals have finished making the audience happy with their musical, usually much more light-hearted than ours is, and we participate in the race to zoom out before anyone has left their seats, eat in a record 10 minutes, and get into our costumes, makeup, mics, wait for a mic check, help everyone else since we're all running around like crazy, and generally get our blood pressure up.

Somehow, I don't think that's what an intermission is for.

Oh well. That's the way I like it.

The Thespian's Alphabet-G

G is for gypsies.

No, not like hoop earrings, tell-your-fortune-for-silver gypsies. I mean the dancers. The Broadway chorus liners.

There is a Broadway documentary I enjoy watching, from the Ziegfeld Follies to Wicked, hosted by Julie Andrews and with fantastic photos and facts. Am I a geek? Yes. Am I happy? Yes. B'Way: The American Musical. If you're like me, you'll love it.

Now, the period I study and enjoy most-and hope to make a career out of acting in revivals from-is approximately 1960-1990's. Julie mentioned, in passing, while talking about A Chorus Line-one of my favorites-that the dancers were "the self-entitled gypsies". Maybe that was just a thing right then. Maybe now they call themselves something different. But I love the term and continue to use it, joyfully confusing some people.

I, myself, cannot dance to save my life. I plan to work as hard as I can in college to fix that. I'm willing to have a mental breakdown and lose 30 pounds and starve and swindle myself and work until I sweat blood to be able to dance. Theatre is my life, and not being a very good dancer isn't about to stop me. I don't intend to be fabulous, but I want to be able to hold my own in an ensemble role, at least.

Mainly, I suppose, there are 3 things you need to be able to do to be in a Broadway show. Sing, dance, act. I can act a little, dance a little, if I work at it. But my strength is singing. I adore belting out Barbra Streisand and switching to head voice to handle Betty Buckley. Sung-through musicals are brilliance for my kind. Absolute genius. Thank you, Andrew Lloyd Webber.

But the "dancing" musicals appeal to me too. Cats, A Chorus Line, Even a Little Phantom. I so do wish I could dance. I want to be that lithe, multi-talented girl walking down the streets of New York in my sweaty rehearsal clothes and have people look at me and wonder, "Is she some sort of actress?"

The best kind, Baby. Broadway-and Broadway actors, singers, AND dancers-forever.

The Thespian's Alphabet-H

H is for the heat.

Now, don't get me wrong. I AM a whiny person. But anyone will tell you how rough it is. What makes it worse is that half of the musicals we've done or so have been with period costumes, so we don the long skirts, boots, heels, ties, and dress shirts-and end up sweating like crazy.

Maybe it's just me. But summer is my favorite month of the year. I can deal with high heat levels-some of the time. But this, really, isn't fun. Hot lights+makeup+period costumes=a mad stripping and getting back into regular clothes at the end of the performance.

It's crazy!

Also, compounded onto that, is the fact that EVERYONE. Will be nervous. Even the people who have been doing it for years. Stage fright is not a thing of the past. If it's not fear, it's high anticipation. A lot of emotions running high. And a lot of sweating like crazy.

Let's hope we don't drown ourselves.

The Thespian's Alphabet-G

G is for giggling.


The thing about our theatre classes is that usually, we have 35 girls.....and 5 boys. Not only does that mean that some girl is going to be walking around in a suit with a hat to hide her long hair, it means the classes are always hyper. Girls are generally more spastic than boys-and a LOT louder.


And then....there comes the giggling.


Sure, we can control ourselves. But, you have to realize that this is not an easy feat. There are a whole slew of weird jokes, facial expressions, or gestures that make a group of girls collapse into giggles. And there are a LOT of girls back there trying not to laugh while the boys wonder what girls are good for. (Ah, my dear boys. Wait a couple years, and you shall find out.)


BUT NOT ONLY THIS! Even being onstage, we can start to giggle. We're nervous up there. It's totally true. I have HORRIBLE stage fright. We're not totally confident up there. One of your fellow actors makes a funny expression, it's amusing. Girl number 2 stumbles over a line, it's downright giggly. A little boy from the audience yells, "MOMMY, I HAVE TO GO TO THE BATHROOM!"-it's positively hysterical.


Honestly, kid? You can wait.


Another thing is, the more intense the scene, the more you cringe when someone starts laughing. Last year, I was Hodel in Fiddler on the Roof, and personally, I consider that the most intensely physical romantic role in that musical.


And it was mine, all mine. And Adam's, considering he was Perchik. And we were the laughing stock of the entire year.


Seriously. The class thought us dancing was too funny. They thought him proposing to me was hilarious. They thought me holding his head in my lap and bursting into tears over his bleeding body was the most hysterical thing ever.


I have never blushed more in my life. IT'S STAGE DIRECTION, PEOPLE. Don't act like you've never seen it before.


Gah. The trick is to tell yourslef, when something funny happens, that it's not funny. I don't know why she's laughing, that's just normal.


Hopefully, you won't laugh during the most devastating part of the musical.

The Thespian's Alphabet-F

F is for faking.


Now, don't get mad. I'm talking about faking SO MANY THINGS like crying. Or hating. Or even a romantic interest for a guy who's like your brother.


Back when we were doing HONK!, there was a scene where I had to cry. Now, there are 2 reasons I couldn't actually cry. Number 1, my makeup would go all over, and number 2, I CANNOT cry in front of people. Just can't. So I had to fake it. It went rather interestingly. 


Sometimes, I've had to fake hating the villain of the piece when they're a good friend of mine. THAT was actually easy, because for some reason, it's easier to culminate hate for someone you like than culminate like for someone you hate. It just doesn't look right if you're nice to the villain. It's kind of fun to act nasty to them, actually. The more dramatic the acting, the more outrageous the direction, the better it's gonna be.


Then there's faking romantic interest. I've actually played-or am going to play-leading lady to a pair of brothers who are awesome, but they're just my friends. AWKWARD. Luckily, they're a couple of big sillies, so it's not that bad. There has been an instance where I had a hard crush on my leading man. Faking? What's that? Ironically, that was the most intense physical romantic role I've ever had. Go figure.


Yeah. Faking, it can be fun.

The Thespian's Alphabet-E

E is for entertainment.


That's what it is, isn't it? We're entertainers. Performers. THESPIANS, if you will. We sing, act, and dance to take people away from bills and jobs and whiny kids and fighting friends and cute boys that never notice you and just-plain-rainy-days to a place of your desiring. 


It's a pure and delightful honor.


The thing is, while they're entertained by our feats, we have to LEARN those feats.


Last week in drama class, we had to learn a simple dance. I wasn't sure if my character was supposed to do anything, but Mrs. M, our fearless leader, said, "Learn it anyway." Ok, how hard can this be?


Bad, bad move on my part.


I have been gifted with many things. I have wonderful friends and my father has a good livelihood. I get along well with my family. I can sing, I can act.


BUT FOR THE LIFE OF ME. I cannot dance.


It gets really frustrating, y'know?! I'm trying SO HARD to get this right, and I just don't feel coordinated in the least. I'm about to cry with frustration and depression. Then *Hallelujah chorus* Mrs. M says I don't have to be in it. 


YES.


So I watch Sydney, Allye, Cass, Mattie, Bekah, and the rest of them perform. No sweat for me, correct?


Rachel, you have got to cut this out.


I sang "I Think I'm Gonna Like It Here" OVER AND OVER AND OVER again. And still, I couldn't hit the notes the way I wanted to. I mean, what's with that?! That's pretty uncool.


Extra practicing for this chick.


And yet, when we get up on that stage every April to entertain them, make them lose your head in another world for an hour or so, it will all be worth it. Even complete strangers come up to you and tell you how good you were. You feel important. You've worked hard. You've made memories. You've made friends. And, the ultimate culmination of our sweat, tears, and blood is a wonderful, wonderful event, sugared with memories for a lifetime.


Say, want some entertainment? *Ba-da-da-dum-dum-dah....*

The Thespian's Alphabet-D

The Thespian's Alphabet-D

D is for darkness.

I know, right? But darkness is an unfortunate part of theatre. And if you're getting any funny thoughts, wipe 'em outta your head. I'm talking about getting on and off stage, sometimes in heels, and trying not to trample on someone(the plagues of being tall) in COMPLETE AND TOTAL DARKNESS. You cannot see. The lights go right off and suddenly, in contrast to your bright lights showing your fellow actors and actresses, you are bathed in darkness. You cannot see a thing. REALLY. And you need to get off that stage, because baby, you're not supposed to be onstage! YOU, my dear friend, are supposed to be backstage with your besties and your leading man getting ready for scene 8 or something. Bleah.

'Tis not an easy feat.

The show must go on.