TAMPON WARS - CONTINUED

At a dinner party before I left Calgary, Roberta got her femininely hygienic revenge, as I knew she would. (See post titled "Jell-o Supreeze" for clarification)

There were a number of individually wrapped items inside the gift bag that I received. I'll share the highlights...

The tamponwich
An ingenious creation

Also included, however, were a package of unique post-it notes...

They make great grocery lists

They also work really well as convention-style name tags

There was also a small bottle of something called Glenfiddich Single Malt Scotch Whiskey in the bag. I'm not entirely sure what that's for.

OVER AND DONE WITH MORRIE

My closing weekend flowers, sent by the cats.

And suddenly, in what seems like the blink of an eye, it's over. In reality it was only 15 performances, but when you're in the middle of it, (or climbing the gigantic mountain at the beginning of it) the end seems much further away.

After our excitement with the non-responsive revolve earlier in the week, the closing weekend ran pretty smoothly. Our closing day crowds were pretty typical. The matinee audience was large, boisterous, responsive and quick to laugh. The evening crowd was small, shy, slow on the up-take and required a lot of effort on our part to get the smallest laugh out of them. Still, both performances were good. As I said to Jamie a few days earlier, "The quietest, dullest audience in the world can't diminish my enjoyment of doing the show with you."

It is the tradition of StageWest to formally pass the stage over to the in-coming show by making an announcement to the audience. We decided to split up the closing duties. I announced the next show, a musical revue called "Motown Gold", and Jamie did the 'thank you's'. He thanked StageWest, he thanked the waitstaff and our crew, and then he added, "And I'd like to thank this great actor, Patrick Brown, for coming in for the final two weeks." Thank you, Jamie. Very generous and much appreciated.

I've been telling Jamie for days that, when he gets home, his own bed is going to feel soooooo good. I know he's at the airport right now, anxiously awaiting his departure. As we were leaving the theatre last night, he stuck the last post-it note from the count-down calendar Kira had made him onto his coat, and then posed for a quick picture with my dad.

Jamie & Geo

The post-it note says "HOME TIME"

It was a lot of work for a short gig, but I loved it all and feel blessed to have had the chance.

Thanks for thinking of me, Kira.

COUNTDOWN WITH MORRIE

Kira made an countdown calendar for Jamie out of post-it notes and stuck it to the mirror in his dressing room. It's kind of like an Advent Calendar but, instead of, "how many sleeps until Christmas", this one is for counting, "how many sleeps until I get to go home".

It seems odd for me to be counting down to the finish when I haven't even been performing the show for two weeks yet, but Jamie has been doing it for months and is looking forward to sleeping in his own bed again.

Here he is tearing off the "4" sticker after Friday night's show.

And on a completely unrelated note....

When I went to Theatre Calgary the other night to see Jan Alexandra-Smith performing in "Lost - A Memoir", I was instructed by the parentals to get a photo of the Winnipeg cast of 'Drowsy Chaperone' (soon to be appearing at TC) who have become the poster children for Theatre Calgary's season. Here we are at the front doors of the theatre.

Bad lighting, but left to right there's: me, Debbie Maslowsky, Tim Gledhill, Kyle Blair, Naomi Costain, Dean Paul Gibson, Nadine Rodin, Deann deGruijter and Thom Allison

Jamie Farr Doesn't Come Around

Q: When is a revolve not a revolve?
A: When it doesn't.

In a recent performance of "Tuesdays With Morrie", we were all forced to answer the above question. If this blog were a film, I would split the screen into several segments to show you the action happening in several locations in simultaneous real time. Since that is impossible, I'll do my best to be the director of photography for your brain.

Near the top of the show, while I am on stage delivering a short monologue, the stage should revolve from the 'piano' set into the 'living room' set, with Jamie standing in the 'living room' set as it arrives. As I finish my monologue, I become aware that I cannot hear the very clunky and loud old revolve turning behind me.

A beat passes.

MONTAGE 1

ONSTAGE
I am thinking only of one thing. Before the show, Jamie had complained of not feeling well, citing an upset stomach. I am convinced that he had a gastro-emergency, ran to his dressing room and did not make it back to the stage in time for his entrance. I briefly run through my options: a) continue to sit in my chair, silent, and looking like a shmuck, b) continue talking even though I have nothing to say and can't even begin to imagine the drivel that might spew forth, c) leave the stage as I would normally do at this point in the show anyway. I choose 'c'.

BACKSTAGE
I exit to the wings and glimpse Jamie wandering in circles on the living room set that, by now, should be turned toward the audience. He is trying to find his way, in the darkness, onto the stage to pick up the show where I have left off. So, no gastro-emergency after all but, rather, something that is more complicated. There is no backstage crew to be seen anywhere. Unusual. Assistant Stage Manager, Darcy, has gone to find Kira, Woman In Charge Of Everything, to tell her that the revolve has malfunctioned.

IN THE BOOTH
Stage Manager, Sean, apparently posesses the magic touch that can repair the revolve. Once he realizes that the show is, indeed, going on and Jamie is on stage carrying on with his next scene, Sean makes the snap decision to leave the booth and race backstage to see if the revolve can be repaired. This leaves Sound Technician, Bronwyn, running both sound AND lights. Not terribly difficult in a show like this until you factor in the fact that the sound and lighting control panels are 6 feet apart and she is now required to extend her arms to their full length, left hand on the sound board, right hand on the lighting console, face pressed to the counter inbetween the two.

ONSTAGE
Jamie is plowing ahead with the show even though we are still in the wrong set, so I enter to do my very short cameo as the doctor who diagnoses him. As we finish this scene, A MIRACLE, the stage begins to revolve, though I am forced to leap out of the way of a divider panel which is headed directly for me. We calm down slightly as we are now in the living room set which is where the majority of the show takes place.

MONTAGE 2

ONSTAGE

We have made it through the bulk of the show, along with a great audience that has stayed with us in spite of a bit of a rocky start. Now, however, we are faced with another revolve, into the bedroom where we will play the bitter-sweet death scene. If the revolve doesn't work, it will be a bit challenging for us since Jamie (Morrie) is now supposed to be mostly immobile, relying on my support for any mobility he has. Limping off stage like this could be awkward. The moment of truth arrives and, ANOTHER MIRACLE, the stage revolves.

Now, the revolve in question is very old, and noisy. I am facing upstage and can see it get almost to it's correct position when it suddenly stops, pauses, then squeeks the last 8 inches to land on it's mark. It sounds like this.....rumble, rumble, rumble, rumble BANG/THUD...........rumble.

BACKSTAGE

During the middle section of the show everyone has been huddled around Sean, shining flashlights for him as he works on the revolve. He is pretty sure that it is fixed, but without being able to test it, no one can be sure. As a backup plan, Kira has recruited waitstaff to help push the revolve manually should it fail to function. (Another advantage of dinner theatre, being able to recruit last minute backstage labour). As the cue for the revolve is given, Kira, and said waitstaff, begin to push. Also, Darcy, hoping that everything has been repaired, turns the control knob. The revolve turns, leaving Kira heaving with all her might against an object which is suddenly not resisting. The "BANG/THUD" we hear onstage is Kira, moving not quite quickly enough to avoid that revolve machinery and falling, headlong, into the blackness backstage.

IN THE BOOTH

Sean, hearing the sound of something falling backstage, calmly asks, "Anyone hurt?". He is assured, over headset, that all is well.

After the show, Jamie thanks the audience for staying so focused and responsive in spite of our obvious technical glitches.

Upstairs in the greenroom, Kira calmly explains that the painful sounding BANG/THUD that we heard was actually her, falling down as the revolve moved away from her. Jamie begins to laugh so hard that he can't even speak. (And THIS is something I wish I had a picture of!) The rest of us join in and continue to giggle all the way to our respective homes.

Kira has assured us that when this show closes, in three days, the much used and very tired revolve will be thrown in the dumpster.