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.
Friday, January 28, 2011
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
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....*
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....*
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
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.
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.
Saturday, January 8, 2011
The Thespian's Alphabet-C
C is for costumes.
I don't know if it's like a twist of fate or something, but almost every musical I've been in, I've had to wear a period costume. The Music Man? Uh-huh. Fiddler on the Roof? Chyeah. Annie? Bring it. HONK! even had me dressing like a younger June Cleaver, high heels, big white beads, and all. And the thing about all these period costumes is, they're long, and high-necked, and HOT. It may not seem that bad, but you get onstage with all those lights and layers, adding to the fact that you're already nervous, it's outrageous. My cheeks will easily turn an interesting shade of orchid. Bleah.
An old thing of mine used to be that I did not want to take the costume off, because that would really make it feel like it was over. But last time I came home, dude, I was in hate with that costume. It's already over. TAKE THE DRESS OFF. Something tells me that by next year I'll have joined the legion of people who take it off directly after the bows and appear at the after-party in casual, normal clothes.
Another thing with costumes is, in my drama class, we have to find half our costumes ourselves. Sometimes a coat or an essential piece is provided, but we have to dig the rest up ourselves. And since we're "young ladies and gentlemen", and we outgrow things, or things can be adjusted, we share. An apron that Mrs. Paroo(my big sister) wore in The Music Man is still alive and has been used for 2 or 3 musicals throughout the years. A dress that Amaryllis(my bestie Cassidy) wore in The Music Man was used for Tom Sawyer's teaser last year. It's interesting to see how much we've grown.
Let me tell you, costumes are a pain the actor has to live with. It's fun to stand out in a crowd, but it's fun to change to regular clothes........
I don't know if it's like a twist of fate or something, but almost every musical I've been in, I've had to wear a period costume. The Music Man? Uh-huh. Fiddler on the Roof? Chyeah. Annie? Bring it. HONK! even had me dressing like a younger June Cleaver, high heels, big white beads, and all. And the thing about all these period costumes is, they're long, and high-necked, and HOT. It may not seem that bad, but you get onstage with all those lights and layers, adding to the fact that you're already nervous, it's outrageous. My cheeks will easily turn an interesting shade of orchid. Bleah.
An old thing of mine used to be that I did not want to take the costume off, because that would really make it feel like it was over. But last time I came home, dude, I was in hate with that costume. It's already over. TAKE THE DRESS OFF. Something tells me that by next year I'll have joined the legion of people who take it off directly after the bows and appear at the after-party in casual, normal clothes.
Another thing with costumes is, in my drama class, we have to find half our costumes ourselves. Sometimes a coat or an essential piece is provided, but we have to dig the rest up ourselves. And since we're "young ladies and gentlemen", and we outgrow things, or things can be adjusted, we share. An apron that Mrs. Paroo(my big sister) wore in The Music Man is still alive and has been used for 2 or 3 musicals throughout the years. A dress that Amaryllis(my bestie Cassidy) wore in The Music Man was used for Tom Sawyer's teaser last year. It's interesting to see how much we've grown.
Let me tell you, costumes are a pain the actor has to live with. It's fun to stand out in a crowd, but it's fun to change to regular clothes........
Friday, January 7, 2011
The Thespian's Alphabet-B
The Thespian's Alphabet-B
B is for backstage.
Every thespian knows what crazy awesome stuff goes on backstage. In my drama class, we perform 2 musicals a year, one for elementary schoolers, and one for middle-and-high-schoolers. We help each other with things backstage. So I have the joy of helping a bunch of straggling, excited, totally sweet and adorable little kids in numbers of 35 or more get costumes on and off, switching microphones, and getting onstage when their cue is heard. Then, it switches around and the straggling, adorable amateurs help us, who range from being new to musical theatre to having been there for years. The backstage area we have is crammed full of costumes each year for such drastically different musicals like Alice in Wonderland, Fiddler on the Roof, Annie, and The Musical Adventures of Tom Sawyer. We have to keep names on things, have to switch microphones fast, and have the nightmare of trying to get in and out of costumes and help other people get in and out of THEIRS in 8 minutes. Yike!
But where else will you find a bunch of Russian peasants playing ninja?
Where else will you find a fully-fledged bird tail with no bird?
Where else will you find a fully concentrating teenager covering a child's cheeks with lipstick?
Where else will you find Alice in Wonderland listening to an iPod?
Another thing about being backstage is, at least, in our musical theatre group, there are generally 30 girls and 5 boys-give or take a couple. Which means, every year there's a girl running around looking strangely masculine. Never fails. And girls generally talk more than boys, right? Bingo. WE CAN NOT STOP TALKING. Even I have mouthed hurried words in the wings moments before my entrance. (It was to a fellow actor, and was needed!) With our microphones on, the rule has become "be quiet until you get down the hall-take the mic off-and be quiet still."
It's really hard to follow, especially for a talkative chick like me.
Ah, backstage is such a loverly place.
B is for backstage.
Every thespian knows what crazy awesome stuff goes on backstage. In my drama class, we perform 2 musicals a year, one for elementary schoolers, and one for middle-and-high-schoolers. We help each other with things backstage. So I have the joy of helping a bunch of straggling, excited, totally sweet and adorable little kids in numbers of 35 or more get costumes on and off, switching microphones, and getting onstage when their cue is heard. Then, it switches around and the straggling, adorable amateurs help us, who range from being new to musical theatre to having been there for years. The backstage area we have is crammed full of costumes each year for such drastically different musicals like Alice in Wonderland, Fiddler on the Roof, Annie, and The Musical Adventures of Tom Sawyer. We have to keep names on things, have to switch microphones fast, and have the nightmare of trying to get in and out of costumes and help other people get in and out of THEIRS in 8 minutes. Yike!
But where else will you find a bunch of Russian peasants playing ninja?
Where else will you find a fully-fledged bird tail with no bird?
Where else will you find a fully concentrating teenager covering a child's cheeks with lipstick?
Where else will you find Alice in Wonderland listening to an iPod?
Another thing about being backstage is, at least, in our musical theatre group, there are generally 30 girls and 5 boys-give or take a couple. Which means, every year there's a girl running around looking strangely masculine. Never fails. And girls generally talk more than boys, right? Bingo. WE CAN NOT STOP TALKING. Even I have mouthed hurried words in the wings moments before my entrance. (It was to a fellow actor, and was needed!) With our microphones on, the rule has become "be quiet until you get down the hall-take the mic off-and be quiet still."
It's really hard to follow, especially for a talkative chick like me.
Ah, backstage is such a loverly place.
Thursday, January 6, 2011
The Thespian's Alphabet-A
The thespian's alphabet. Get ready.
A is for Auditions.
Well, naturally.
I don't know if all actresses have this, but when I get up to audition, I am scared out of my mind. Like seriously. I wonder if Bernadette Peters was ever this scared. And I usually get the part I want, but even if I don't, I know that maybe I just wasn't right for the part. That's the thing about show biz. You may want to play, say, Mayzie La Bird in Seussical the Musical. But your acting style and voice may be more geared to Gertrude McFuzz. This actually happened to me last year. I had auditions for Fiddler on the Roof, and I wanted to be Golde. So, I auditioned. And ended up as Hodel. And had a blast. So keep your hopes up.
Auditions are so much harder to think of than call-backs, because the thing about auditions is, they are your ticket in. If they want to punch your ticket, you feel more confident, right? With auditions, if you fail, you are out, O-U-T, out. But if you go to call-backs and don't do so good, you might make it into the ensemble. At least they gave you a second chance.
Another thing about auditions is, you have to think about the part you're trying out for. If you wanted to be Ariel in The Little Mermaid, would you sing Razzle Dazzle from Chicago?! Hmm, let's see. NO.
I'm stubborn, though. If I wanna sing that song, I just might sing it. Deal with that, director-man.
Just be careful you don't end up Ursula.
A is for Auditions.
Well, naturally.
I don't know if all actresses have this, but when I get up to audition, I am scared out of my mind. Like seriously. I wonder if Bernadette Peters was ever this scared. And I usually get the part I want, but even if I don't, I know that maybe I just wasn't right for the part. That's the thing about show biz. You may want to play, say, Mayzie La Bird in Seussical the Musical. But your acting style and voice may be more geared to Gertrude McFuzz. This actually happened to me last year. I had auditions for Fiddler on the Roof, and I wanted to be Golde. So, I auditioned. And ended up as Hodel. And had a blast. So keep your hopes up.
Auditions are so much harder to think of than call-backs, because the thing about auditions is, they are your ticket in. If they want to punch your ticket, you feel more confident, right? With auditions, if you fail, you are out, O-U-T, out. But if you go to call-backs and don't do so good, you might make it into the ensemble. At least they gave you a second chance.
Another thing about auditions is, you have to think about the part you're trying out for. If you wanted to be Ariel in The Little Mermaid, would you sing Razzle Dazzle from Chicago?! Hmm, let's see. NO.
I'm stubborn, though. If I wanna sing that song, I just might sing it. Deal with that, director-man.
Just be careful you don't end up Ursula.
Why I Have 2 Blogs.
Random Adventures of R. H. J. K.
That's my other blog.
So why did I make another one?
There are a few reasons.
1-It is 1:40 A. M. , and I am bored.
2-I can double any designs I like on my blogs.
3-For anyone who knows me the least bit, you'll know that musical theatre is my life. Like seriously.
So, this blog is mainly for my obsession with theatre and the adventures I have auditioning, rehearsing, hanging with theatre friends, or just thoughts I may have.
So there ya go.
That's my other blog.
So why did I make another one?
There are a few reasons.
1-It is 1:40 A. M. , and I am bored.
2-I can double any designs I like on my blogs.
3-For anyone who knows me the least bit, you'll know that musical theatre is my life. Like seriously.
So, this blog is mainly for my obsession with theatre and the adventures I have auditioning, rehearsing, hanging with theatre friends, or just thoughts I may have.
So there ya go.
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