...and another thing..
Pretty much every hotel we stay in has a "conservation program" in effect. They all have different names for it, but it's basically the same thing. If you're staying more than one night, you can opt out of having your sheets and towels replaced every day. In this way, the hotel is helping the environment by saving millions of gallons of water, hours of electricity and avoiding tons of chemicals ending up in the ground water. The tree-hugger in me would like to believe that the mega-corps actually care. The realist in me knows that it's nothing more than a shameless marketing ploy, begrudging enacted under pressure. Why? First: if they were truly committed to the environment or their program, they would train their housekeeping staff to follow the rules. No matter where I put my once-used towels, the maids INSIST on replacing them. On the shower rod, on the bathroom door, rehung on the towel bar, hidden in the closet or under the bed - they trade them for clean ones. Second: how can one profess to be "committed" to the planet and then happily supply guests with millions upon millions of plastic and Styrofoam cups. And worse still, to satisfy the germ-o-phobes who have been brainwashed into believing that bacterial are evil, the plastic cups are wrapped in .......PLASTIC!!!! If convenience is the enemy, then stupidity, greed and complacency are it's allies.
Sunday, February 22, 2009
DIRTY ROTTEN TOLEDO
"Dirty Rotten Scoundrels" on tour...
The drive to Toledo is a long one and, right from the beginning, we know it's going to be a push to get to the theatre. We do not, however, count on having a grand total of fifteen, yes 15 minutes in our hotel rooms before having to board the bus for the theatre. There is food waiting for us in the green room, pizza and lasagna, none of which I can eat but probably wouldn't anyway. On top of being too rushed to feel human, we are also too rushed to be familiarized with our hazardous stage. The floor surface is so slippery that, once again, we are doing Dirty Rotten on Ice.
On top of the skating rink issue, the stage is not level. I don't mean get-your-carpenters-level-out-to-prove-it kind of not level. I mean, when-your-standing-center-stage-you-feel-like-you're-on-a-hillside kind of not level. Under normal circumstances, this is only a minor inconvenience, noticed mostly by the dancers to whom it can present some problems. However, in this show, every single set piece is on wheels. The villa staircase unit, the balcony/hotel suite unit, all the palm trees, the hotel desk, everything rolls. At the end of my balcony scene with K.K., the boys come on stage to turn the balcony unit around for the next scene and, as they walk away, the unit just keeps on drifting. It continues to drift throughout the scene to the point where it is almost sideways on the stage. In another scene, the palm trees are lined up along the back of the stage to provide some colour and depth. For no reason, they begin to migrate toward the middle of the stage during the scene. Those on stage can hardly contain themselves. It's like being in a scene from "Attack of The Killer Tomatoes", but with palm trees. Thankfully, it's a short scene.
After the show we hit the hotel lounge. Sarah receives a phone call and quite clearly becomes very upset. We find out later that her beloved dog has had an accident and the prognosis is not good. Our hearts break for her. This is the hard part of being on the road, being away, being out of touch, being unable to "do" anything. And to top it off, it's her birthday. Thankfully, the next day, some kind of miracle occurs and the situation is greatly improved.
Though we are staying at the Hilton in Toledo, you'd never know it by the clientele. There is a convention of bowlers that come for 3 weekends every year. They are legion. Picture the loudest, fattest, drunkest, stereotypical trailer trash you can, and you'll start to get the picture. I run in to a man carrying a gallon bottle of vodka as I exit the elevator. Some of the cast has to actually elbow their way through the party crowds in the hallways to get to their room. Pembleton tells me that the room next door to him is still going strong (and loud) at 2:30 a.m. We may not often have the chance to say, "I believe we are the classiest people staying in this hotel".
The drive to Toledo is a long one and, right from the beginning, we know it's going to be a push to get to the theatre. We do not, however, count on having a grand total of fifteen, yes 15 minutes in our hotel rooms before having to board the bus for the theatre. There is food waiting for us in the green room, pizza and lasagna, none of which I can eat but probably wouldn't anyway. On top of being too rushed to feel human, we are also too rushed to be familiarized with our hazardous stage. The floor surface is so slippery that, once again, we are doing Dirty Rotten on Ice.
On top of the skating rink issue, the stage is not level. I don't mean get-your-carpenters-level-out-to-prove-it kind of not level. I mean, when-your-standing-center-stage-you-feel-like-you're-on-a-hillside kind of not level. Under normal circumstances, this is only a minor inconvenience, noticed mostly by the dancers to whom it can present some problems. However, in this show, every single set piece is on wheels. The villa staircase unit, the balcony/hotel suite unit, all the palm trees, the hotel desk, everything rolls. At the end of my balcony scene with K.K., the boys come on stage to turn the balcony unit around for the next scene and, as they walk away, the unit just keeps on drifting. It continues to drift throughout the scene to the point where it is almost sideways on the stage. In another scene, the palm trees are lined up along the back of the stage to provide some colour and depth. For no reason, they begin to migrate toward the middle of the stage during the scene. Those on stage can hardly contain themselves. It's like being in a scene from "Attack of The Killer Tomatoes", but with palm trees. Thankfully, it's a short scene.
After the show we hit the hotel lounge. Sarah receives a phone call and quite clearly becomes very upset. We find out later that her beloved dog has had an accident and the prognosis is not good. Our hearts break for her. This is the hard part of being on the road, being away, being out of touch, being unable to "do" anything. And to top it off, it's her birthday. Thankfully, the next day, some kind of miracle occurs and the situation is greatly improved.
Though we are staying at the Hilton in Toledo, you'd never know it by the clientele. There is a convention of bowlers that come for 3 weekends every year. They are legion. Picture the loudest, fattest, drunkest, stereotypical trailer trash you can, and you'll start to get the picture. I run in to a man carrying a gallon bottle of vodka as I exit the elevator. Some of the cast has to actually elbow their way through the party crowds in the hallways to get to their room. Pembleton tells me that the room next door to him is still going strong (and loud) at 2:30 a.m. We may not often have the chance to say, "I believe we are the classiest people staying in this hotel".
DIRTY ROTTEN OWENSBORO
"DIrty Rotten Scoundrels" on tour...
Though I am in the famed locale of the only mystery play writing festival in
North America (as far as I know) there is little time to investigate it. We
arrive at 2 pm and because we have a 7 pm curtain (bed time comes early in
Kentucky) the bus call to leave the hotel for the theatre is 5:45. As the
hotel is in the middle of fuckingnowhere, there is little time for anything
but a quick trip to Kroger's grocery and a stop at White Lightening Liquors
before a shower, shave and oh-so-cursory-meditation. I do scrounge a few
minutes to call Mark, artistic director of Vertigo Mystery Theatre, and tell
him that I'm in the holy land.
The show is mediocre, as is the very large crowd, though they do (as usual) express their appreciation by standing at the end. I am not having a good night. It starts when I completely destroy any hope of a laugh on one of my sure-fire laugh-lines by stumbling over the words and totally fucking up the timing. It goes down hill from there for a variety of reasons, to the point where I am actually relieved to see the audience rise to their feet (albeit, slowly).
Though I am in the famed locale of the only mystery play writing festival in
North America (as far as I know) there is little time to investigate it. We
arrive at 2 pm and because we have a 7 pm curtain (bed time comes early in
Kentucky) the bus call to leave the hotel for the theatre is 5:45. As the
hotel is in the middle of fuckingnowhere, there is little time for anything
but a quick trip to Kroger's grocery and a stop at White Lightening Liquors
before a shower, shave and oh-so-cursory-meditation. I do scrounge a few
minutes to call Mark, artistic director of Vertigo Mystery Theatre, and tell
him that I'm in the holy land.
The show is mediocre, as is the very large crowd, though they do (as usual) express their appreciation by standing at the end. I am not having a good night. It starts when I completely destroy any hope of a laugh on one of my sure-fire laugh-lines by stumbling over the words and totally fucking up the timing. It goes down hill from there for a variety of reasons, to the point where I am actually relieved to see the audience rise to their feet (albeit, slowly).
Monday, February 16, 2009
DIRTY ROTTEN BRAMPTON
The morning we leave Flint, MI for Brampton, ON, we are greeted by our new bus driver - Lady D. She has a smile as big as the great outdoors and a sparkling personality to match. We love her immediately. The love affair does tarnish slightly a bit later on as we hit stop-and-go- traffic on the 401. The combination of Lady D getting the feel of a new bus and her aggressive, heavy-footed brake/accelerate technique leaves the majority of the bus severely motion sick. I believe there was even some puking. She was spoken to, in the nicest possible way, and her driving smoothed out. Rumour has it that our old driver, James, or King James as we called him, won't be returning to us. As no one has bothered to confirm or deny the rumour so we feel a little like jilted lovers and can't help but wonder if we hogged the blankets or burned the meatloaf.
The Rose Theatre in Brampton is a cute little place. It feels very tiny to us after playing houses that seat well over 1200 people. The Rose maxes out at 860. The place is only a few years old so nothing looks tired or shabby yet. HOWEVER, I would like to bitch slap the architects. Why, why, oh why do people design theatres when they have no idea what goes on in them. The dressing rooms and the green room are 6 miles from the stage. The last theatre we were in where this was also a problem, it was because of major renovations and space constraints. The Rose is brand new and this flaw is, therefore, unforgivable! Just as unforgivable as putting frosted lights around the make-up mirrors (flattering, yes, but the exact opposite of the stage lighting for which you are trying to do your make-up) and not having a full-length or standing-height mirror (When, Mr. Architect, was the last time you sat down in front of the mirror to put your tie on?).
Our first night audience is like an audience, but smaller. Also quieter. ALOT quieter. In fact, our first show back in Canada sucks. They barely make a sound. We are not impressed. And it only gets worse when we got back to our oh-so-not-with-it Holiday Inn to find that the lounge had closed at 10 pm. Given that there is a statue of Ganesha that greets you as you come in to the main lobby, I can only assume that the owners are Hindu and, therefore, don't understand the concept of a night-cap or alcohol as self-medication. Our next 2 shows are much better with much more responsive crowds. Saturday night is a near capacity crowd.
I had thought that I would have to spend Sunday (day off in Brampton) auditioning for "Moon Over Buffalo" (which I am directing for Drayton in July). But things don't turn out that way so I rent a car and head to Niagara. Being home for 18 hours is odd, but I manage to get some laundry done, re-organize my bags, visit with Pam, scarf down a cheese buffet provided by Katy & Jess (our house sitters) and sleep in my own bed. Michael, who is sick as a dog and already en route to Kentucky is jealous of my quick trip. All I can do is bring him jam.
Now back in Brampton at the Holiday Inn, I wonder what I will do with myself since it's a holiday and everything is closed. Well.....thanks to Pam, I DO have vodka.
The Rose Theatre in Brampton is a cute little place. It feels very tiny to us after playing houses that seat well over 1200 people. The Rose maxes out at 860. The place is only a few years old so nothing looks tired or shabby yet. HOWEVER, I would like to bitch slap the architects. Why, why, oh why do people design theatres when they have no idea what goes on in them. The dressing rooms and the green room are 6 miles from the stage. The last theatre we were in where this was also a problem, it was because of major renovations and space constraints. The Rose is brand new and this flaw is, therefore, unforgivable! Just as unforgivable as putting frosted lights around the make-up mirrors (flattering, yes, but the exact opposite of the stage lighting for which you are trying to do your make-up) and not having a full-length or standing-height mirror (When, Mr. Architect, was the last time you sat down in front of the mirror to put your tie on?).
Our first night audience is like an audience, but smaller. Also quieter. ALOT quieter. In fact, our first show back in Canada sucks. They barely make a sound. We are not impressed. And it only gets worse when we got back to our oh-so-not-with-it Holiday Inn to find that the lounge had closed at 10 pm. Given that there is a statue of Ganesha that greets you as you come in to the main lobby, I can only assume that the owners are Hindu and, therefore, don't understand the concept of a night-cap or alcohol as self-medication. Our next 2 shows are much better with much more responsive crowds. Saturday night is a near capacity crowd.
I had thought that I would have to spend Sunday (day off in Brampton) auditioning for "Moon Over Buffalo" (which I am directing for Drayton in July). But things don't turn out that way so I rent a car and head to Niagara. Being home for 18 hours is odd, but I manage to get some laundry done, re-organize my bags, visit with Pam, scarf down a cheese buffet provided by Katy & Jess (our house sitters) and sleep in my own bed. Michael, who is sick as a dog and already en route to Kentucky is jealous of my quick trip. All I can do is bring him jam.
Now back in Brampton at the Holiday Inn, I wonder what I will do with myself since it's a holiday and everything is closed. Well.....thanks to Pam, I DO have vodka.
Friday, February 13, 2009
DIRTY ROTTEN GRIND
"Dirty Rotten Scoundrels"....on tour
At this point in the tour, we arrive at the real grind of doing a "bus & truck" tour. Though we don't perform every night, for nine consecutive days we do not spend more than 16 or 18 hours in one place. Check in, check out, check in, check out. Abilene TX, Monroe LA, Atlanta GA, Fayetteville LA, Athens GA, Louisville KY, Ft. Wayne IL, Muncie IN, Davenport IA. Long days trapped on the bus begin to take their toll. It gets increasingly difficult to find one's "bus Zen".
The show in Ft. Wayne is not a memorable one, though the theatre is another one of those grand old beauties. Muncie's theatre is not pretty but the crowd is wild, being peppered with many students from the University theater program.
Davenport is a pretty little place even if it does sound like furniture. Grand old Victorian mansions looking out at the bucolic view of the riverboat casinos along the Mississippi. The theatre is only a block or so from the hotel. Oddly enough, the dressing rooms are about the same distance from the stage. No lie, to get to my dressing room I have to follow a series of long and twisting hallways that would rival underground Disney or NASA. By the time I get there, I'm convinced I'm under the Chinese restaurant in the next block. Because the show is a cavalcade of costume changes, pretty much everyone is forced to change in cramped, makeshift areas in the wings. The theater in the River Center is a huge deco-style affair (2400 seats). One of it's claims to fame is that Cary Grant died in one of the dressing rooms in '86. After the show, some of us wander over to the casino by our hotel. We enjoy teaching Howard (the largest drummer in captivity) how to play the slot machines, a concept that seems difficult for him to grasp for a while which only entertains us more. We are proud to say we popped his slot cherry.
Overnight in Flint MI tonight, which used to be the suicide capitol of North America (see Michael Moore's film "Roger & Me"). Then crossing the border to our home and native land tomorrow for 3 shows in Brampton. We're all very excited.
At this point in the tour, we arrive at the real grind of doing a "bus & truck" tour. Though we don't perform every night, for nine consecutive days we do not spend more than 16 or 18 hours in one place. Check in, check out, check in, check out. Abilene TX, Monroe LA, Atlanta GA, Fayetteville LA, Athens GA, Louisville KY, Ft. Wayne IL, Muncie IN, Davenport IA. Long days trapped on the bus begin to take their toll. It gets increasingly difficult to find one's "bus Zen".
The show in Ft. Wayne is not a memorable one, though the theatre is another one of those grand old beauties. Muncie's theatre is not pretty but the crowd is wild, being peppered with many students from the University theater program.
Davenport is a pretty little place even if it does sound like furniture. Grand old Victorian mansions looking out at the bucolic view of the riverboat casinos along the Mississippi. The theatre is only a block or so from the hotel. Oddly enough, the dressing rooms are about the same distance from the stage. No lie, to get to my dressing room I have to follow a series of long and twisting hallways that would rival underground Disney or NASA. By the time I get there, I'm convinced I'm under the Chinese restaurant in the next block. Because the show is a cavalcade of costume changes, pretty much everyone is forced to change in cramped, makeshift areas in the wings. The theater in the River Center is a huge deco-style affair (2400 seats). One of it's claims to fame is that Cary Grant died in one of the dressing rooms in '86. After the show, some of us wander over to the casino by our hotel. We enjoy teaching Howard (the largest drummer in captivity) how to play the slot machines, a concept that seems difficult for him to grasp for a while which only entertains us more. We are proud to say we popped his slot cherry.
Overnight in Flint MI tonight, which used to be the suicide capitol of North America (see Michael Moore's film "Roger & Me"). Then crossing the border to our home and native land tomorrow for 3 shows in Brampton. We're all very excited.
Sunday, February 08, 2009
DIRTY ROTTEN FAYETTEVILLE/ATHENS
"Dirty Rotten Scoundrels"...on tour...
Well, my over-worked little lap-top computer has finally given up the ghost. I'll have to take it in for repair as soon as we're in one place long enough for me to do that. Hopefully, we'll be staying in large enough and up-to-date enough places that they'll at least have some kind of business center where I can access email.
Our show in Fayetteville wasn't great. Huge house with only a few hundred people scattered throughout. The theatre was definitely a bit run down and look a bit rough around the edges, But, apparently, so were we since the audience response was tepid at best. As the hotel wasn't particularly memorable either, we were happy to leave the next morning.
Athens, GA proves much more welcoming. Huge crowd. Very responsive and vocal throughout. It is both Brian and Duff's birthday as well. Heather writes "HAPPY BIRTHDAY" in lipstick across Michael's ass so that he can display it to Brian from the wings as Brian is trapped on stage. Most of the cast go out to celebrate and are VERY green & grumpy as they board the bus next morning. Even Paul remarks the he doesn't think he's ever heard the back of the bus so quiet. Those of us that can concentrate on things other than our pounding heads or churning stomachs are loath to leave Georgia as the weather is beautiful and warm, but leave we must.
We stop for a lunch break somewhere outs tide of Nashville, TN. There is a local Sunday flea market that Duff and I decide to check out. There are some not UNinteresting things, but mostly it is mountains of used DVDs and boxes of dried foods that look like they've fallen off the back of a truck. There are also plenty of men dressed in camouflage with "Massey Ferguson" or "Harvester International" hats, and little old ladies listening to fiddle recordings of "Jesus Loves Me". They all look askance at us because we have clearly not swum in their gene pool. At one point, Duff overhears a kid ask, "Moma, can I have a skinnin' knife?"
We spend the night in Louisville, KY. Our hotel is one of those grand old, turn of the century ladies who's "had a little work done". Nothing too drastic though because she still looks great and reeks of style. The Steelbach Hilton is full of moulded cornices, marble floors, burnished wood and brass bannisters. The lounge is one of those dark, plush places that is reminiscent of 'gentleman's clubs' where you could disappear from society for hours at a time. The rooms, though small, are very tasteful and have, miraculously, managed to maintain their original heavy wood doors. We are literally across the street from "4th Street Live", Louisville's main entertainment area. I choose a steak-house-type restaurant and as the server to educate about bourbon. I have to say that, in spite of my long and mostly unblemished drinking career, bourbon and I are still trying to come to terms. It's definitely an acquired taste. This from someone who has happily consumed large amounts of room temperature gin or blue curacao liqueur when there was nothing else at hand.
Well, my over-worked little lap-top computer has finally given up the ghost. I'll have to take it in for repair as soon as we're in one place long enough for me to do that. Hopefully, we'll be staying in large enough and up-to-date enough places that they'll at least have some kind of business center where I can access email.
Our show in Fayetteville wasn't great. Huge house with only a few hundred people scattered throughout. The theatre was definitely a bit run down and look a bit rough around the edges, But, apparently, so were we since the audience response was tepid at best. As the hotel wasn't particularly memorable either, we were happy to leave the next morning.
Athens, GA proves much more welcoming. Huge crowd. Very responsive and vocal throughout. It is both Brian and Duff's birthday as well. Heather writes "HAPPY BIRTHDAY" in lipstick across Michael's ass so that he can display it to Brian from the wings as Brian is trapped on stage. Most of the cast go out to celebrate and are VERY green & grumpy as they board the bus next morning. Even Paul remarks the he doesn't think he's ever heard the back of the bus so quiet. Those of us that can concentrate on things other than our pounding heads or churning stomachs are loath to leave Georgia as the weather is beautiful and warm, but leave we must.
We stop for a lunch break somewhere outs tide of Nashville, TN. There is a local Sunday flea market that Duff and I decide to check out. There are some not UNinteresting things, but mostly it is mountains of used DVDs and boxes of dried foods that look like they've fallen off the back of a truck. There are also plenty of men dressed in camouflage with "Massey Ferguson" or "Harvester International" hats, and little old ladies listening to fiddle recordings of "Jesus Loves Me". They all look askance at us because we have clearly not swum in their gene pool. At one point, Duff overhears a kid ask, "Moma, can I have a skinnin' knife?"
We spend the night in Louisville, KY. Our hotel is one of those grand old, turn of the century ladies who's "had a little work done". Nothing too drastic though because she still looks great and reeks of style. The Steelbach Hilton is full of moulded cornices, marble floors, burnished wood and brass bannisters. The lounge is one of those dark, plush places that is reminiscent of 'gentleman's clubs' where you could disappear from society for hours at a time. The rooms, though small, are very tasteful and have, miraculously, managed to maintain their original heavy wood doors. We are literally across the street from "4th Street Live", Louisville's main entertainment area. I choose a steak-house-type restaurant and as the server to educate about bourbon. I have to say that, in spite of my long and mostly unblemished drinking career, bourbon and I are still trying to come to terms. It's definitely an acquired taste. This from someone who has happily consumed large amounts of room temperature gin or blue curacao liqueur when there was nothing else at hand.
Friday, February 06, 2009
DIRTY ROTTEN ATLANTA
"Dirty Rotten Scoundrels" on tour...
As we board the bus to depart from Monroe, LA, I discover that there was drama after I left the lounge. The abbreviated version is that everyones food took an hour or more to arrive, regardless of what it was, and when Jess finally got hers, it wasn't cooked properly. She sent it away and ordered a pizza for delivery. She was told she couldn't eat outside food in the lounge. Managers were called. Apologies were made. Free cocktails were delivered. Little did we know that Jess's bad food karma would rear it's ugly head again when we stop at a sad shopping mall in Columbia, SC for lunch. (How many sportswear and gangsta t-shirt stores does one mall need?) Here is a loose transcription of the conversation that took place between Jess and the Food Court Table Cleaner.
FCTC: Miss, I think you forgot something.
Jess: (realizing she's left some personal items behind). Oh, thanks.
FCTC: Looks like you forgot to clear your tray off your table too.
Jess: Excuse me? I didn't have a tray.
FCTC: Well then one of your friends did.
She then proceeds to hold Jess's stuff hostage until the tray is removed. This same half-crazed-table-Nazi also tracks Duff down IN THE PARKING LOT to let him know that he didn't clear his tray from the table. Jezuz people. Why you gotta hate your life all over us?
We are all, as usual, looking forward to arriving in Atlanta after another long boring day on the bus. As I always do when we go to any large city, I surf the net to see what there is to do. I stumble accross a production of "Jesus Christ Superstar -GOSPEL" that seems to be wowing Atlanta. I decide to check it out, and Galen and Heather tag along. (I find out later that this theater is also where "The Color Purple" and "Aida" were born) We had no idea what to expect and it's difficult to explain, but I can give you the basic building blocks and you let your imagination do the rest. A completely re-worked orchestral and vocal score which is the same music, but Gospel-fied. An all black cast with voices that were superhuman. And, the final touch, added to the cast a 30 member gospel choir. When they walked down the aisle singing in the first number, we knew we were in for something special. We clapped. We hooted. We jived and swayed. We cried. We laughed out of sheer joy. We shivered. Oh, how we shivered. And we lept to our feet before the lights for the curtain call had even come up. One of the most amazing nights I have EVER spent in the theatre.
There was a talk-back after the show and stayed around to chat with a few of the cast, all of whom were delightful and thanked us for spending our free night at their show. Darius de Hass, who played Jesus, raved about how much he loves Toronto, having been there often to visit his aunt who is Salome Bey. (Now we can say we've met Jesus twice in the same week!)
After three long, dull days of driving, we are finally in Fayetteville, NC. It might be nice to do the show again.
As we board the bus to depart from Monroe, LA, I discover that there was drama after I left the lounge. The abbreviated version is that everyones food took an hour or more to arrive, regardless of what it was, and when Jess finally got hers, it wasn't cooked properly. She sent it away and ordered a pizza for delivery. She was told she couldn't eat outside food in the lounge. Managers were called. Apologies were made. Free cocktails were delivered. Little did we know that Jess's bad food karma would rear it's ugly head again when we stop at a sad shopping mall in Columbia, SC for lunch. (How many sportswear and gangsta t-shirt stores does one mall need?) Here is a loose transcription of the conversation that took place between Jess and the Food Court Table Cleaner.
FCTC: Miss, I think you forgot something.
Jess: (realizing she's left some personal items behind). Oh, thanks.
FCTC: Looks like you forgot to clear your tray off your table too.
Jess: Excuse me? I didn't have a tray.
FCTC: Well then one of your friends did.
She then proceeds to hold Jess's stuff hostage until the tray is removed. This same half-crazed-table-Nazi also tracks Duff down IN THE PARKING LOT to let him know that he didn't clear his tray from the table. Jezuz people. Why you gotta hate your life all over us?
We are all, as usual, looking forward to arriving in Atlanta after another long boring day on the bus. As I always do when we go to any large city, I surf the net to see what there is to do. I stumble accross a production of "Jesus Christ Superstar -GOSPEL" that seems to be wowing Atlanta. I decide to check it out, and Galen and Heather tag along. (I find out later that this theater is also where "The Color Purple" and "Aida" were born) We had no idea what to expect and it's difficult to explain, but I can give you the basic building blocks and you let your imagination do the rest. A completely re-worked orchestral and vocal score which is the same music, but Gospel-fied. An all black cast with voices that were superhuman. And, the final touch, added to the cast a 30 member gospel choir. When they walked down the aisle singing in the first number, we knew we were in for something special. We clapped. We hooted. We jived and swayed. We cried. We laughed out of sheer joy. We shivered. Oh, how we shivered. And we lept to our feet before the lights for the curtain call had even come up. One of the most amazing nights I have EVER spent in the theatre.
There was a talk-back after the show and stayed around to chat with a few of the cast, all of whom were delightful and thanked us for spending our free night at their show. Darius de Hass, who played Jesus, raved about how much he loves Toronto, having been there often to visit his aunt who is Salome Bey. (Now we can say we've met Jesus twice in the same week!)
After three long, dull days of driving, we are finally in Fayetteville, NC. It might be nice to do the show again.
Wednesday, February 04, 2009
DIRTY ROTTEN ABILENE
The whole company is extra perky as we gather around the bus in the beautiful morning sunshine. We have been spoiled by having two nights in our very deluxe Dallas Sheraton suites and we drag our heels when faced with moving on.The drive to Abilene is simple and uneventful but for our lunch stop. We pull in to a Shell station in a place that truly deserves to be called Sparrow Fart, Texas. Inside the station there is a Subway sandwich place as well as a local grille that serves up meatloaf, cream gravy, mashed potatoes and the like. As we are getting out of the bus, out attention is taken by.....yes.....it is......it's a life sized cross. And it's being loaded out of the back of a pick-up truck by a tall, thin man. And, yes, he is actually hefting it onto his shoulder and making his way toward the Shell station. Could this be the second coming, right here in Sparrow Fart? Perhaps not. We're quite sure that the bible stories didn't mention Jebus smoking and our cross-toter lights up a Marlborough. Also, this cross, big as it is, has wheels on the bottom to assist in all that pesky dragging. Personally, I am a bit miffed that he parks his cross directly in front of the picnic tables, effectively cutting off access to all three of them. I am forced to go sit in the wagon-wheel chairs. Someone talks to Jebus to find out that he has apparently been across the U.S. five times with his cross. Steve gets permission from Jebus to drag his cross around the parking lot. (Photo attached) As we pull away, he has, miraculously, disappeared. I dub him Heeby-Jebus.
We have a great show in Abilene. Huge crowd who are all having a great time. They not only leap to their feet but many of them are waving their arms in the air during the curtain call. They're very effusive here in Texas.
In the morning, I join the girls gathered around the bus as we prepare to leave Abilene and discover that, as usual, I have caused more of a stir than I know. It seems that the girls found themselves in the position of "enlightening" one or two of the wardrobe/hair people assigned to them last night. At first it was just simple things like, "Do ya'll have the same kind of music as us up there in Canada. Have you heard of Kelly Clarkson?". But then, one of them wonders aloud if Michael, who is basically in charge of them while the show is in the theatre, might be gay? The girls are amused by this and aren't really taking it seriously. They suggest that it's certainly possible. One of the dressers asks, "How do you tell? They look just like everyone else." At this point, the girls realize that they're not in Kansas anymore. One of our girls, interested in whacking the hive, says, "In fact, Michael's husband is in the show." Shock and consternation abound. "They're married??? Like, legally married???? What state????" The girls offer the not-so-gentle reminder that we are from CANADA. Knowing none of this, I enter the room at the end of the night, looking for Michael. Now, when one enters a ladies dressing room it is customary to knock and say "It's a boy", since the girls are often naked. If you want to just knock and barge in, and you are the correct gender, you might say, "It's a girl". Or, you can do what I do, a combination of the two preceded with the announcement, "Homosexual!". Which, of course, is what I did last night. I barged into the room, planted a big kiss on Michael and told him I'd see him at the next stop.
Had I known what kind of a stir I was causing, I'd have asked him to model the new bubble-gum pink Dolce & Gabbana briefs I just bought him. It's quite possible that there is a prayer meeting for our immortal souls somewhere in Abilene right now. What they don't know is that we met Jebus that very day.
The first part of our endless drive to North Carolina lands us in Monroe, LA for a stop-over. The lounge at the hotel is an unlikely combination of camouflage-hatted good ole' boys and blaring gansta' rap music. I retreat to my room.
Tuesday, February 03, 2009
DIRTY ROTTEN DALLAS
"Dirty Rotten Scoundrels" ...on tour.We all take advantage of the spring-like weather and consume the best of what the very wealthy city of Dallas has to offer. Some go golfing, some go shopping, some take in the grassy knoll assassination museum. I decide to take in the the Tutankhamen exhibit at The Dallas Museum of Art. Sadly, the rest of the stunning museum is closed because it's Monday, but the exhibit is well worth the special $15.00 admission price. Though, I do have to say, there was far less to see than I thought there would be. We know that there were thousands of artifacts from Tut's tomb, we saw perhaps 35 of them in this exhibit. Clearly, Egypt is like your stingy older sister who doesn't like to share her stuff or have it stray too far from her room.
After the museum, we ride on the 100 year old, free trolley car that goes through the tasteful "Uptown" district. Duff, Mike Donald and I enjoy some shopping, a lite lunch and cocktails at The Ritz-Carlton. I feel obliged to photograph the orchids in the lobby of The Ritz for Michael's father. I can assure you, they're real. I notice that they're crazy about valet parking in Dallas. There are red coats hopping into cars everywhere, even at smaller bars or restaurants. Everyone's car is sparkling clean and very new, just like all the buildings. You can smell the money.
Back at the hotel the next day, everyone agrees that, however they may have spent their free day in Dallas, they had a good time and found the people very friendly, open and helpful.
Sunday, February 01, 2009
DIRTY ROTTEN GREENSBURG (PA)
"Dirty Rotten Scoundrels - The Musical' On Tour
We load the bus knowing that we face a full day, well, six hours drive before we get to our hotel. The early part of the drive is scenic as we drive through Brooklyn, under The Brooklyn Bridge, past Ellis Island and The Statue of Liberty with great views of New York Harbour along the way. It's a much more scenic drive the one that got us to Long Island since we came in through The Bronx. Several long, boring hours of driving later we arrive at our hotel. The time is 6:30 p.m. We have a mere half hour to check in to the hotel, freshen and be back on the bus to get us to the theatre for an 8 pm show.
We are in yet another theatre that's too small for us and back stage is the usual mayhem. I still haven't figured out why we cut set pieces but don't cut the crew that would have been moving them. In a cramped backstage we have 18 cast members racing to and fro, 7 of our own crew and 13 local crew. Honestly, because it's not my budget that's paying for them I don't really care, I just want them to get the fuck out of my way. OH, and perhaps NOT whistle a happy tune while doing a set change behind the scrim that I'm doing a scene in front of. The audience is small, but appreciative and, after last night's show, we are relieved to know that we still have the power to make them laugh.
Apparently, my hotel room karma is very good this week. I assume that everyone's room is as deluxe as mine but I find out that I'm the only one that lucked into this kind of luxury. The room is huge. It's so big that the king sized bed looks small. There is a sofa, coffee table, fridge, microwave, desk & chair, flat screen tv. stereo and, oh yeah, a two person jacuzzi in the corner beside the tv. And you could play handball in the bathroom. Heather actually offers me money so that she and Galen can have jacuzzi play time. I remain impassive and when I get back from the show, I sit in the swirling water eating my left over salad from McDonald's, drinking Australian plonk and watching "Iron Chef".
Tomorrow we fly to Dallas where we get to spend a day. We are all looking foward to feeling the energy of a city, if only briefly.
We load the bus knowing that we face a full day, well, six hours drive before we get to our hotel. The early part of the drive is scenic as we drive through Brooklyn, under The Brooklyn Bridge, past Ellis Island and The Statue of Liberty with great views of New York Harbour along the way. It's a much more scenic drive the one that got us to Long Island since we came in through The Bronx. Several long, boring hours of driving later we arrive at our hotel. The time is 6:30 p.m. We have a mere half hour to check in to the hotel, freshen and be back on the bus to get us to the theatre for an 8 pm show.
We are in yet another theatre that's too small for us and back stage is the usual mayhem. I still haven't figured out why we cut set pieces but don't cut the crew that would have been moving them. In a cramped backstage we have 18 cast members racing to and fro, 7 of our own crew and 13 local crew. Honestly, because it's not my budget that's paying for them I don't really care, I just want them to get the fuck out of my way. OH, and perhaps NOT whistle a happy tune while doing a set change behind the scrim that I'm doing a scene in front of. The audience is small, but appreciative and, after last night's show, we are relieved to know that we still have the power to make them laugh.
Apparently, my hotel room karma is very good this week. I assume that everyone's room is as deluxe as mine but I find out that I'm the only one that lucked into this kind of luxury. The room is huge. It's so big that the king sized bed looks small. There is a sofa, coffee table, fridge, microwave, desk & chair, flat screen tv. stereo and, oh yeah, a two person jacuzzi in the corner beside the tv. And you could play handball in the bathroom. Heather actually offers me money so that she and Galen can have jacuzzi play time. I remain impassive and when I get back from the show, I sit in the swirling water eating my left over salad from McDonald's, drinking Australian plonk and watching "Iron Chef".
Tomorrow we fly to Dallas where we get to spend a day. We are all looking foward to feeling the energy of a city, if only briefly.
Saturday, January 31, 2009
DIRTY ROTTEN GREENVALE
We perform the show in Greenvale, NY (that's on Long Island which is pronounced with a hard 'g'.) for an oil painting of an audience. That is to say, they're like an audience, only silent. Now before you get to thinking that this is just tired-actor-sour-grapes, let me make it clear. Every single, sure-fire joke that gets at least a titter was met with tumble weeds and crickets. Every production number, no matter how lavish and exciting or how small and adorable was met with applause one might expect at a Sunday Afternoon fashion show of nurses uniforms. I've said it before and I'll keep saying it, audiences need to be reminded of the they are only part of the equation. We're all in the performance together. It's a conversation, and one sided conversations aren't interesting to anyone.
On top of "them", the show is crammed into another venue that doesn't have nearly enough space. All our back drops, except one, are cut because there is no fly gallery. The stair unit for the villa is cut, the basement stairs for the "Ruprecht" number are cut. The stage itself is shallow enough that the dancers are working hard to not dance on top of each other. Christy, the dance captain, promises that no one will receive any notes about tonight's performance given the space restrictions. Her advice? Do your best and don't get killed. In most cases, the tiny venues can be a nice change of pace, a chance to have a really personal relationship with an audience that isn't 50 feet away. Ah well.
I feel that we still gave a good show, especially given the mayhem and plethora of crew standing in the way backstage. Personally, I even enjoyed parts of the evening, but not even enjoyment in ones work seemed capable of permeating the wall of 'polite' applause and 'sympathetic' laughter.
The hotel is nice, even if it is the most expensive hotel we will ever stay at, only because hotel tax in New York State is through the roof. I decide that I'm not interested in re-living the show with everyone down at the bar. I spend $50 on wings and 2 glasses of wine from room service.
An all-day drive tomorrow to Harrisburg, PA.
Thursday, January 29, 2009
DIRTY ROTTEN (COLD) UTICA
"Dirty Rotten Scoundrels" on tour...Sometimes, to get the sweetest fruit, you have to go out on a limb. In this case, Utica would be the limb, The Stanley Theater, the fruit. This is, hands down, the most beautiful theatre we have played, or are likely to play. Somehow, it managed to escape the insult of being turned into a multi-cinema in the 70's, so the community was able to concentrate their money on upgrading and enlarging the backstage facilities. The pictures are not very good, but it's the best I could find (thanks to Flickr) and it will give you a sense of the scale and ornate-ness of the place.
There is a reception for us after the first night's performance during which the organizer asks the crowd to raise a glass and thank the cast of "The Drowsy Chaperon" for a fantastic show. Awkward pause. There is, however, plenty of beer, wine, hot and cold nibbles and live music. The music comes from an ancient square-style grand piano, circa 1840. At the keys is a tiny, hunch-backed woman, also circa 1840. Apparently, she can play anything you ask her to. She is put to the test as the alcohol continues to flow and the cast begins random performances. I leave before it gets too involved, though when Michael staggers into the hotel room 45 minutes later he is still giggling about doing a trio version of "Sentimental Journey" with Duff and Susan Johnson-Collins.
Through the night, most of the State is hit with a snow storm. Flights are delayed, schools are closed, streets are messy. The storm is supposed to go on through the night. The city of Utica declares a state of emergency. The weather channel is calling it DEADLY STORM. We, wondering what all the fuss is about, call it what we usually call six inches of snow........winter.
Sunday, January 25, 2009
DIRTY ROTTEN AKRON
"Dirty Rotten Scoundrels - The Musical" ....on tour...
Well, it's official....Akron hated us. Oh, not the audiences. We had one crowd out of the three that was a bit stingy with the laughs and certainly didn't think that anything sexual was funny, but overall, the crowds were great. No, it was the city itself that opened it's maw to spew all over us. But let me begin at the beginning...
We are on a bus at the hotel in Sioux City by 7:30 a.m. to travel to Omaha NB so that we can fly to Chicago to make a connection for a flight to Cleveland where our usual bus and driver will meet us and drive us to Akron. There is nothing like starting your day by being violated by airport securitytheatre. It's funny how they manage to say, "Good morning, how are you, sir?", but make it sound, somehow, like they're saying, "I am well programmed cog in a wheel with too much power." By the time we arrive in Akron and check in to our hotel, it is 5 pm. The bus will pick us up again at 7 for and 8 pm show. We are already tired and a little cranky.
We are not reassured by the signs in the hotel elevator that say, "Money, jewellery and other valuables must be locked in the safe or we take no responsibility" and "You must swipe your room key to access guest floors after hours".
The situation only gets crankier as everyone discovers that there are no options for food in the area except for the hotel restaurant which seems uninterested in serving anyone. Those that order end up getting their food packaged to carry on to the bus as they grossly underestimate how slow the service is. (The food, thankfully, isn't bad). Mel, opting to try to find outside food or a convenience store, wanders a block or two down the street and enters a corner store. All conversation inside the store abruptly ceases and all heads turn to her, not in a welcoming way. She decides that this may not be what she's shopping for and leaves. Several of the store's denizens follow her down the street offering helpful suggestions like, "Yo, bitch" and, "Whore". Needless to say, we are a grumpy cast by the time we arrive at the theatre.
That night, a group of hoodlums (you know, rapscallions, unsavories) try to break into the crew bus. The crew are all sleeping at the hotel, but the bus driver, Phil, is sleeping on the bus. He gets up, chases one of the group down and tackles him while William, who drives one of our trucks, chases down another one. The police are called. The rumours are proven true: You DO NOT fuck with Phil's bus. (sidebar...Phil has been a tour bus driver for 15 years and lived through the" Jackass" boys.)
The next morning, Saturday, the search for food other than from the hotel continues, but with little success. It's downtown and it's Saturday, there are few options. I decide to take a cab to the nearest liquor store. It is a journey to Sketchville. The signs outside boldly advertise that this is a "State approved" liquor store, but the inside looks more like a pawn shop. The only booze that one can actually touch is the beer and wine, everything else is behind the long cash counter or locked behind glass. A woman at the cash is paying for a bottle of something with the last dregs of change from her wallet. As she scrounges up the final twenty-six cents, as though she was at a tent revival meeting, she shouts out, "THANK YOU JEZUS!"
When we return to the hotel at the end of our two show day, exhausted and desperate for a drink, we discover that the hotel is full of prepubescent cheer leaders. They are busy riding the elevators so it takes us much longer to get to our rooms than it should, our eardrums bleeding from them shrieking at each other in triple-digit decibels. The only balm that soothes us, is the fact that the hotel bar stays open for us after the shows and the bartender pours like it's the end of the world. The wine glasses are full to the brim, the scotch is not 2 fingers but 4 and the martini glasses are over flowing.
Is it any wonder that actors drink?
Well, it's official....Akron hated us. Oh, not the audiences. We had one crowd out of the three that was a bit stingy with the laughs and certainly didn't think that anything sexual was funny, but overall, the crowds were great. No, it was the city itself that opened it's maw to spew all over us. But let me begin at the beginning...
We are on a bus at the hotel in Sioux City by 7:30 a.m. to travel to Omaha NB so that we can fly to Chicago to make a connection for a flight to Cleveland where our usual bus and driver will meet us and drive us to Akron. There is nothing like starting your day by being violated by airport securitytheatre. It's funny how they manage to say, "Good morning, how are you, sir?", but make it sound, somehow, like they're saying, "I am well programmed cog in a wheel with too much power." By the time we arrive in Akron and check in to our hotel, it is 5 pm. The bus will pick us up again at 7 for and 8 pm show. We are already tired and a little cranky.
We are not reassured by the signs in the hotel elevator that say, "Money, jewellery and other valuables must be locked in the safe or we take no responsibility" and "You must swipe your room key to access guest floors after hours".
The situation only gets crankier as everyone discovers that there are no options for food in the area except for the hotel restaurant which seems uninterested in serving anyone. Those that order end up getting their food packaged to carry on to the bus as they grossly underestimate how slow the service is. (The food, thankfully, isn't bad). Mel, opting to try to find outside food or a convenience store, wanders a block or two down the street and enters a corner store. All conversation inside the store abruptly ceases and all heads turn to her, not in a welcoming way. She decides that this may not be what she's shopping for and leaves. Several of the store's denizens follow her down the street offering helpful suggestions like, "Yo, bitch" and, "Whore". Needless to say, we are a grumpy cast by the time we arrive at the theatre.
That night, a group of hoodlums (you know, rapscallions, unsavories) try to break into the crew bus. The crew are all sleeping at the hotel, but the bus driver, Phil, is sleeping on the bus. He gets up, chases one of the group down and tackles him while William, who drives one of our trucks, chases down another one. The police are called. The rumours are proven true: You DO NOT fuck with Phil's bus. (sidebar...Phil has been a tour bus driver for 15 years and lived through the" Jackass" boys.)
The next morning, Saturday, the search for food other than from the hotel continues, but with little success. It's downtown and it's Saturday, there are few options. I decide to take a cab to the nearest liquor store. It is a journey to Sketchville. The signs outside boldly advertise that this is a "State approved" liquor store, but the inside looks more like a pawn shop. The only booze that one can actually touch is the beer and wine, everything else is behind the long cash counter or locked behind glass. A woman at the cash is paying for a bottle of something with the last dregs of change from her wallet. As she scrounges up the final twenty-six cents, as though she was at a tent revival meeting, she shouts out, "THANK YOU JEZUS!"
When we return to the hotel at the end of our two show day, exhausted and desperate for a drink, we discover that the hotel is full of prepubescent cheer leaders. They are busy riding the elevators so it takes us much longer to get to our rooms than it should, our eardrums bleeding from them shrieking at each other in triple-digit decibels. The only balm that soothes us, is the fact that the hotel bar stays open for us after the shows and the bartender pours like it's the end of the world. The wine glasses are full to the brim, the scotch is not 2 fingers but 4 and the martini glasses are over flowing.
Is it any wonder that actors drink?
Friday, January 23, 2009
DIRTY ROTTEN SIOUX CITY
The Orpheum Theater in Sioux City is one of those grand old 1920's theatre's that fell to the rise of Hollywood and movies, was converted into a movie house, then into a double-cinema in the 70's, then restored to it's original glory by a dedicated citizens and philanthropists in the 90's. Lot's of red velvet seats & crystal chandeliers. The audience for our show is large (probably 1200 or so) and friendly. The backstage space virtually non-existent and we are, once again, cutting set pieces from the show.
We have a day off in Sioux City. Trying to find something to do in downtown Sioux City is like trying to find something to do on your Grandparents' farm......in February.......when you're 14. There is nothing. Well, some buildings, some sports bars, the theatre where we played, but really,.......nothing. I run across several of the company doing exactly what I am doing, ....wandering the streets in the hope of finding some kind of diversion.....to no avail. There is a 14plex cinema a block from the hotel, but I am uninterested in most of what is playing. I end up going to see "Benjamin Button" because it's long and will eat up some time.
We have a day off in Sioux City. Trying to find something to do in downtown Sioux City is like trying to find something to do on your Grandparents' farm......in February.......when you're 14. There is nothing. Well, some buildings, some sports bars, the theatre where we played, but really,.......nothing. I run across several of the company doing exactly what I am doing, ....wandering the streets in the hope of finding some kind of diversion.....to no avail. There is a 14plex cinema a block from the hotel, but I am uninterested in most of what is playing. I end up going to see "Benjamin Button" because it's long and will eat up some time.
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
DIRTY ROTTEN LINCOLN
"Dirty Rotten Scoundrels - The Musical" On Tour...
I take back everything I ever said about Nebraska. Did I ever say anything about Nebraska? Oh, then never mind. If you've driven through Saskatchewan, you've driven through the American Midwest. I find myself raising my head from my book to be greeted with the exact same visuals I had looked at 30 minutes ago. This starts to feel like I am in a chase sequence from a cartoon with the same backdrop going past the screen over and over again. The effect it has is to momentarily give me the sense that I am floating in time and space, having no clue where in the country I might be and, worse, no idea where I'm going to. (I am reminded of a trip I took years ago to perform at an all-gay camping weekend in Ravenscrag, Saskatchewan with Stage-manager-extraordinaire Donna Sharpe. To entertain each other we would, at random intervals, shout out, "Look! Absolutely nothing!!")
My fears about The Cornholer....er, Cornhusker, prove unfounded. It is actually a Marriott and is a very nice hotel. I splurge on room service and order what turns out to be a $15.00 spinach salad, but it is a delicious creation with strawberries, oranges and almonds and worth every penny, especially given that I eat it in my robe without having to go outside and forage for food. There is a female basketball team staying at the hotel. Howard, our 6'6" drummer meets his female doppelganger who (at 6'5") turns out to be from Regina.
I take back everything I ever said about Nebraska. Did I ever say anything about Nebraska? Oh, then never mind. If you've driven through Saskatchewan, you've driven through the American Midwest. I find myself raising my head from my book to be greeted with the exact same visuals I had looked at 30 minutes ago. This starts to feel like I am in a chase sequence from a cartoon with the same backdrop going past the screen over and over again. The effect it has is to momentarily give me the sense that I am floating in time and space, having no clue where in the country I might be and, worse, no idea where I'm going to. (I am reminded of a trip I took years ago to perform at an all-gay camping weekend in Ravenscrag, Saskatchewan with Stage-manager-extraordinaire Donna Sharpe. To entertain each other we would, at random intervals, shout out, "Look! Absolutely nothing!!")
My fears about The Cornholer....er, Cornhusker, prove unfounded. It is actually a Marriott and is a very nice hotel. I splurge on room service and order what turns out to be a $15.00 spinach salad, but it is a delicious creation with strawberries, oranges and almonds and worth every penny, especially given that I eat it in my robe without having to go outside and forage for food. There is a female basketball team staying at the hotel. Howard, our 6'6" drummer meets his female doppelganger who (at 6'5") turns out to be from Regina.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
DIRTY ROTTEN DENVER
"Dirty Rotten Scoundrels-The Musical" on tour...
We arrive in Denver as scheduled, 5:30 p.m. and check in to our sassy accommodation, The Curtis. Do visit the website, this place is a hoot, and extremely well run with every detail covered.
Turns out that Michael and the crew are in Denver as well, (though their bus is parked nearer the outskirts) so he is able to get a taxi downtown to join us for dinner. We meet up with Jillian for a martini in the hotel bar then totter around the corner to Rioja for some fantastic food and drink, including a delicious bottle of sparkling wine from Albuquerque....who knew?
Michael takes advantage of the sexy shower in my sassy hotel room before heading back to his bus, which will be departing by midnight or so to drive through the night. I find myself, once again, drunk and exhausted. Damned elevation.
I awaken at 3 a.m. and am unable to return to sleep, or so it seems, because I must have slept in order to have the bizarre dreams that are so vividly remembered. In one, I awaken to find the furniture in my hotel room moved around and my laptop smashed to bits. I catch the 3 culprits rummaging through the cupboards in my kitchen which,in awake-land is actually my bathroom. In another dream, I am an Irish terrorist transporting truckloads of nails and buckshot for bombs. We are pulled over by the police but saved from a search and arrest because a passing jet drops an engine onto the centre of town and all hell breaks loose. We turn over a picnic table and use it like a sled to get to the center of town which, fortunately, is downhill all the way.
Let this be a lesson to you kiddies.....eat early.
Today we drive to Lincoln Nebraska where we will be staying at ......wait for it......The Cornhusker. Is it just me or there an obvious play on words there waiting to be exploited?
We arrive in Denver as scheduled, 5:30 p.m. and check in to our sassy accommodation, The Curtis. Do visit the website, this place is a hoot, and extremely well run with every detail covered.
Turns out that Michael and the crew are in Denver as well, (though their bus is parked nearer the outskirts) so he is able to get a taxi downtown to join us for dinner. We meet up with Jillian for a martini in the hotel bar then totter around the corner to Rioja for some fantastic food and drink, including a delicious bottle of sparkling wine from Albuquerque....who knew?
Michael takes advantage of the sexy shower in my sassy hotel room before heading back to his bus, which will be departing by midnight or so to drive through the night. I find myself, once again, drunk and exhausted. Damned elevation.
I awaken at 3 a.m. and am unable to return to sleep, or so it seems, because I must have slept in order to have the bizarre dreams that are so vividly remembered. In one, I awaken to find the furniture in my hotel room moved around and my laptop smashed to bits. I catch the 3 culprits rummaging through the cupboards in my kitchen which,in awake-land is actually my bathroom. In another dream, I am an Irish terrorist transporting truckloads of nails and buckshot for bombs. We are pulled over by the police but saved from a search and arrest because a passing jet drops an engine onto the centre of town and all hell breaks loose. We turn over a picnic table and use it like a sled to get to the center of town which, fortunately, is downhill all the way.
Let this be a lesson to you kiddies.....eat early.
Today we drive to Lincoln Nebraska where we will be staying at ......wait for it......The Cornhusker. Is it just me or there an obvious play on words there waiting to be exploited?
Friday, January 16, 2009
DIRTY ROTTEN FARMINGTON
"Dirty Rotten Scoundrels - The Musical" on tour...
Though we have done earlier load/leave times, the 9:30 a.m. departure seems harder than it should. Still, the mood on the bus is raucous as the kids re-live their evening out on the town of Colorado Springs. Eventually, things settle down as the sleep deprived nod off one by one and we are treated to hours of spectacular scenery as we climb to 9,400 feet to the mountain pass.
We stop for a meal break in some place that I can't remember, some blip on the highway. I have the following conversation with a perky local:
HER: Where y'all headed today?
ME: Farmington.
HER: Why?
ME: We are performing there tonight.
HER: WHERE?
ME: I'm not sure.
HER: Well, you won't find much there, hon. We only go to Farmington if we have to.
Back on the bus the Stage Manager and Choreographer stroll up and down the centre aisle giving people the changes that will have to be made for the show since we are in another tiny space with no fly tower and no wing space.....nothing we haven't faced before.
The crowd is small, well, tiny for what we're used to....I'd estimate 400 hundred people, but the space doesn't hold much more than that. They are a party audience and it's clear that they've come to have a good time....and they DO.
At one point during the show, Gabe asks one of our dressers how long the drive is to get to Albuquerque. The dresser stretches his arms up, clasps his fingers behind his head, languidly drawls,"That should take you about 4 hours', then nonchalantly, apologetically lets out a luxurious fart....and keeps talking. Gabe is dumb-struck. Galen flees from the room.
I believe many of the company are now in the sports bar downstairs because it's Karaoke night. I've said it before and I'll say it again, "I sing for a living, I'm certainly not doing it for free in a bar for a bunch of drunken yobs."
Though we have done earlier load/leave times, the 9:30 a.m. departure seems harder than it should. Still, the mood on the bus is raucous as the kids re-live their evening out on the town of Colorado Springs. Eventually, things settle down as the sleep deprived nod off one by one and we are treated to hours of spectacular scenery as we climb to 9,400 feet to the mountain pass.
We stop for a meal break in some place that I can't remember, some blip on the highway. I have the following conversation with a perky local:
HER: Where y'all headed today?
ME: Farmington.
HER: Why?
ME: We are performing there tonight.
HER: WHERE?
ME: I'm not sure.
HER: Well, you won't find much there, hon. We only go to Farmington if we have to.
Back on the bus the Stage Manager and Choreographer stroll up and down the centre aisle giving people the changes that will have to be made for the show since we are in another tiny space with no fly tower and no wing space.....nothing we haven't faced before.
The crowd is small, well, tiny for what we're used to....I'd estimate 400 hundred people, but the space doesn't hold much more than that. They are a party audience and it's clear that they've come to have a good time....and they DO.
At one point during the show, Gabe asks one of our dressers how long the drive is to get to Albuquerque. The dresser stretches his arms up, clasps his fingers behind his head, languidly drawls,"That should take you about 4 hours', then nonchalantly, apologetically lets out a luxurious fart....and keeps talking. Gabe is dumb-struck. Galen flees from the room.
I believe many of the company are now in the sports bar downstairs because it's Karaoke night. I've said it before and I'll say it again, "I sing for a living, I'm certainly not doing it for free in a bar for a bunch of drunken yobs."
Thursday, January 15, 2009
DIRTY ROTTEN COLORADO SPRINGS
"Dirty Rotten Scoundrels - The Musical" on tour...
Practically the entire company spends the day off wandering around downtown Boise. There's little else to do but shop, poke through the galleries, drink, eat and see movies.
I take myself to see "Slumdog Millionaire" at what is possibly the greatest movie theatre ever. A little privately run art-house place with a patio for outdoor snacks in the summer. There are 4 cinemas, a video rental store and the snack counter. Forget everything you know about snack counters. Here is an overheard order from The Flicks snack counter...."I'll have the popcorn with butter, a bottle of Newcastle Brown Ale and .....oh....um....the tuna burger." Wines available by the glass, sandwiches of every description......and I can only wonder why this little place can give me an experience like this, and mega-corps like cineplex are still charging me $12.00 for greasy popcorn. Oh, and the admission price.....$6.50.
The morning comes too early. There is much crustiness as we are faced with another early morning airport. Sarah admits to a full-on rage attack when charged $15.00 for checking a bag. We fly to Denver and make a connection to Colorado Springs. Denver and Colorado Springs are so close together that we are in the air for 16 minutes. The landing is interesting. As the wheels are about to touch the ground, the plane suddenly takes off into the air again. The pilot voice nonchalantly explains that there was another plane blocking the runway, but everything is fine now, so we'll try again.
The hotel in Colorado Springs is less than desirable but the mountains are at our doorstep so we grin and bear it. Half way through the first act, none of us can figure out why we are so out of breath on stage until someone points out that we are over 6,000 feet above sea level. We soldier on, still out of breath but not feeling as old. The audience doesn't seem to notice. They are amazing and raucous throughout the show. I go out for a drink with my friend Jillian who has come from Denver to see the show. I have 2 martinis and am completely plastered. Michael has one and feels the effects as well. The next night the altitude has taken it's toll on us and we are all exhausted. Several of us avail ourselves of the oxygen tank and by intermission we are all feeling great.
Practically the entire company spends the day off wandering around downtown Boise. There's little else to do but shop, poke through the galleries, drink, eat and see movies.
I take myself to see "Slumdog Millionaire" at what is possibly the greatest movie theatre ever. A little privately run art-house place with a patio for outdoor snacks in the summer. There are 4 cinemas, a video rental store and the snack counter. Forget everything you know about snack counters. Here is an overheard order from The Flicks snack counter...."I'll have the popcorn with butter, a bottle of Newcastle Brown Ale and .....oh....um....the tuna burger." Wines available by the glass, sandwiches of every description......and I can only wonder why this little place can give me an experience like this, and mega-corps like cineplex are still charging me $12.00 for greasy popcorn. Oh, and the admission price.....$6.50.
The morning comes too early. There is much crustiness as we are faced with another early morning airport. Sarah admits to a full-on rage attack when charged $15.00 for checking a bag. We fly to Denver and make a connection to Colorado Springs. Denver and Colorado Springs are so close together that we are in the air for 16 minutes. The landing is interesting. As the wheels are about to touch the ground, the plane suddenly takes off into the air again. The pilot voice nonchalantly explains that there was another plane blocking the runway, but everything is fine now, so we'll try again.
The hotel in Colorado Springs is less than desirable but the mountains are at our doorstep so we grin and bear it. Half way through the first act, none of us can figure out why we are so out of breath on stage until someone points out that we are over 6,000 feet above sea level. We soldier on, still out of breath but not feeling as old. The audience doesn't seem to notice. They are amazing and raucous throughout the show. I go out for a drink with my friend Jillian who has come from Denver to see the show. I have 2 martinis and am completely plastered. Michael has one and feels the effects as well. The next night the altitude has taken it's toll on us and we are all exhausted. Several of us avail ourselves of the oxygen tank and by intermission we are all feeling great.
Sunday, January 11, 2009
DIRTY ROTTEN BOISE
The "Dirty Rotten Scoundrels" National Tour 2008/2009
There is no shortage of "hurry" as we are all more than happy to see Lovelock fading in the distance behind us. The drive through the mountains of Nevada for the next few hours is amazing and beautiful. Endless vistas of tumbleweeds trapped against barbed wire fences with snow capped mountains lining the route on either side of the highway. The odd farm or pasture dotted with cattle. We stop in a little sparrow-fart on the map called Jordan Valley. Most everything is closed, for sale or rent. At one time it may have been a lively place because of the goldrush, but now it is almost a ghost town, kept alive by ranchers. I walk into the "hardware" store (which has a poster in the window advertising $1,000.00 reward for cattle rustlers.....no fooling) and the old girls at the counter don't even look up from the afternoon gossip as I pass by. It is clear that this is more than just hardware, this is the local mercantile. There are a few non-perishable groceries, giagantic supplies of dog food, horse shoes of all sizes, bridles and halters, used paperback novels and some very interesting cowhide and leather throw cushions made by someone named Polly. I almost buy one for the kitch value.
Our arrival in Boise is uneventful, as are our three performances here. The audiences are nice, and so are we. Boise has a kind of relaxed, anti-hustle/bustle feel to it and the downtown area is quite beautiful. Our hotel is an amazing construct, a new concept by Marriott called Towne Place Suites. Each of our rooms is a bit like a bachelor apartment. King size bed, sofa, easy chair, work area with internet and office chair, flat screen tv, and a full kitchen. This is not your usual give-them-a-microwave-and-call-it-a-kitchen kitchen. There is a full size fridge, a dishwasher, microwave, coffee pot, toaster, a set of dishes and cutlery, pots and pans, the works. What I love about the place is that someone actually thought about how it's going to be used and really covered the details. In the large closet in the bathroom, there is a laundry basket since they have a laundrymat on site downstairs. The office/work area has corner shelves for organization. In the kitchen they've even thought of details like pot holders, corkscrew and colander. Colour me impressed.
It's Gabriel's birthday this weekend. The children went to a club somewhere last night and are planning on going to play paintball this afternoon. Just for the entertainment, I may go down to the lobby to see how many of them actually drag their hung-over asses out of bed for the paintball excursion.
Two full days off here in Boise before we fly out to Colorado on Tuesday morning.
There is no shortage of "hurry" as we are all more than happy to see Lovelock fading in the distance behind us. The drive through the mountains of Nevada for the next few hours is amazing and beautiful. Endless vistas of tumbleweeds trapped against barbed wire fences with snow capped mountains lining the route on either side of the highway. The odd farm or pasture dotted with cattle. We stop in a little sparrow-fart on the map called Jordan Valley. Most everything is closed, for sale or rent. At one time it may have been a lively place because of the goldrush, but now it is almost a ghost town, kept alive by ranchers. I walk into the "hardware" store (which has a poster in the window advertising $1,000.00 reward for cattle rustlers.....no fooling) and the old girls at the counter don't even look up from the afternoon gossip as I pass by. It is clear that this is more than just hardware, this is the local mercantile. There are a few non-perishable groceries, giagantic supplies of dog food, horse shoes of all sizes, bridles and halters, used paperback novels and some very interesting cowhide and leather throw cushions made by someone named Polly. I almost buy one for the kitch value.
Our arrival in Boise is uneventful, as are our three performances here. The audiences are nice, and so are we. Boise has a kind of relaxed, anti-hustle/bustle feel to it and the downtown area is quite beautiful. Our hotel is an amazing construct, a new concept by Marriott called Towne Place Suites. Each of our rooms is a bit like a bachelor apartment. King size bed, sofa, easy chair, work area with internet and office chair, flat screen tv, and a full kitchen. This is not your usual give-them-a-microwave-and-call-it-a-kitchen kitchen. There is a full size fridge, a dishwasher, microwave, coffee pot, toaster, a set of dishes and cutlery, pots and pans, the works. What I love about the place is that someone actually thought about how it's going to be used and really covered the details. In the large closet in the bathroom, there is a laundry basket since they have a laundrymat on site downstairs. The office/work area has corner shelves for organization. In the kitchen they've even thought of details like pot holders, corkscrew and colander. Colour me impressed.
It's Gabriel's birthday this weekend. The children went to a club somewhere last night and are planning on going to play paintball this afternoon. Just for the entertainment, I may go down to the lobby to see how many of them actually drag their hung-over asses out of bed for the paintball excursion.
Two full days off here in Boise before we fly out to Colorado on Tuesday morning.
Friday, January 09, 2009
DIRTY ROTTEN LOVELOCK
The national tour of "Dirty Rotten Scoundrels"
It's true that Fresno was cold. It's true that downtown was a desolate, post-nuclear waste land. It's true that we were warned not to walk alone at night. But all of that is forgiven in light of the fact that Fresno provided us with two of the best audiences we've had on the tour yet. After our first show, we didn't think there was any way that our second night audience could compare, but we were wrong. They laughed. They hooted. They broke into spontaneous applause and they leapt to their feet. It was an auspicious beginning for our second leg, especially when you consider that we had an understudy on in a lead role for both shows.
The morning brings us the first glimmer of sunshine we've seen in California. It is a weak, coppery sun that offers no warmth, but we drink it in. Except, of course, for those that stayed up waaay too late and drank waaay to much with our director last night. Those vampire-like creatures stumble onto the bus, reeking of alcohol, eyes shielded from the light, skin glowing an un-natural yellow.
Our company manager lets us know that we will be going through the famous Donner Pass on our journey today (Yes, it's named after the wagon-train party that got stranded there and ate each other). He speaks excitedly about the extraordinary elevations we'll be reaching, forgetting that we are Canadian. When you grow up skiing Lake Louise in the Canadian Rockies all you can think about The Donner Pass is....."It's LIKE a mountain, only smaller". Still, the scenery is beautiful. We stop in a place called Carfax for lunch. The air is crisp and fresh. All is peaceful, green and serene. It reminds me of Canmore.
We quickly descend into the Nevada side of the mountains and the sunset is stunning. We arrive at our destination, our lodging for the evening, Sturgeon's Motel and Casino in Lovelock, Nevada. Lovelock, a drop of arm-pit sweat in the middle of nowhere. The scrolling sign outside the hotel proclaims, "WELCOME HUNTERS". We are in another world.
The casino is virtually empty. I order an Absolut on the rocks and am hardly surprised by my first taste. I drink enough vodka to know that it isn't really Absolut, or that it has been watered down. There are two poker tables, but no dealers. There are plenty of slot machines and video poker, but they are all penny or nickel machines.....hardly gambling. You know how some people say that gambling is just throwing away your money? Well, I've ACTUALLY thrown away more money than I could lose playing penny slots! I decide to retreat to my room and vegetate.
Clearly, we have become a group spoiled by Doubletree and Radisson as we all cringe upon entering our rooms. In reality, this is exactly the kind of place that most of us would stay in to save money. As I kneel at the bathroom sink to brush my teeth, I'm impressed at how considerate they were to build the counters low enough for people in wheel chairs. The next morning, I hear that very few people had any hot water for showers and Sarah tells me that, when the train went by in the night, her bed shook.
It's true that Fresno was cold. It's true that downtown was a desolate, post-nuclear waste land. It's true that we were warned not to walk alone at night. But all of that is forgiven in light of the fact that Fresno provided us with two of the best audiences we've had on the tour yet. After our first show, we didn't think there was any way that our second night audience could compare, but we were wrong. They laughed. They hooted. They broke into spontaneous applause and they leapt to their feet. It was an auspicious beginning for our second leg, especially when you consider that we had an understudy on in a lead role for both shows.
The morning brings us the first glimmer of sunshine we've seen in California. It is a weak, coppery sun that offers no warmth, but we drink it in. Except, of course, for those that stayed up waaay too late and drank waaay to much with our director last night. Those vampire-like creatures stumble onto the bus, reeking of alcohol, eyes shielded from the light, skin glowing an un-natural yellow.
Our company manager lets us know that we will be going through the famous Donner Pass on our journey today (Yes, it's named after the wagon-train party that got stranded there and ate each other). He speaks excitedly about the extraordinary elevations we'll be reaching, forgetting that we are Canadian. When you grow up skiing Lake Louise in the Canadian Rockies all you can think about The Donner Pass is....."It's LIKE a mountain, only smaller". Still, the scenery is beautiful. We stop in a place called Carfax for lunch. The air is crisp and fresh. All is peaceful, green and serene. It reminds me of Canmore.
We quickly descend into the Nevada side of the mountains and the sunset is stunning. We arrive at our destination, our lodging for the evening, Sturgeon's Motel and Casino in Lovelock, Nevada. Lovelock, a drop of arm-pit sweat in the middle of nowhere. The scrolling sign outside the hotel proclaims, "WELCOME HUNTERS". We are in another world.
The casino is virtually empty. I order an Absolut on the rocks and am hardly surprised by my first taste. I drink enough vodka to know that it isn't really Absolut, or that it has been watered down. There are two poker tables, but no dealers. There are plenty of slot machines and video poker, but they are all penny or nickel machines.....hardly gambling. You know how some people say that gambling is just throwing away your money? Well, I've ACTUALLY thrown away more money than I could lose playing penny slots! I decide to retreat to my room and vegetate.
Clearly, we have become a group spoiled by Doubletree and Radisson as we all cringe upon entering our rooms. In reality, this is exactly the kind of place that most of us would stay in to save money. As I kneel at the bathroom sink to brush my teeth, I'm impressed at how considerate they were to build the counters low enough for people in wheel chairs. The next morning, I hear that very few people had any hot water for showers and Sarah tells me that, when the train went by in the night, her bed shook.
Wednesday, January 07, 2009
DIRTY ROTTEN FRESNO
The hotel we are staying at is one of those multi-storied, open atrium affairs. Think of the scene in Mel Brook's "High Anxiety", shot in the San Francisco Hyatt Regency and you'll get the picture. There is currently a convention of bee keepers staying at the hotel (though officially they are The Honey Producers of America). I strike up a conversation with one of them while waiting for a cab. I mention that I'm a big supporter of local honey and have good access to it living in Southern Ontario. He assumes I am from Australia. Must be my accent.
The theatre is right across the street from the hotel...the only reason I can think of to be staying in downtown Fresno. (Three nice things I can say about downtown Fresno: There are palm trees. The Radisson has good beds. There are palm trees.) Though the auditorium itself is a bit lacking in personality, the dressing rooms are deluxe and the green room has two super-duper-deluxe massage chairs that the cast keeps fighting over. These are not your 'as seen on TV' crap chairs that they demonstrate at home fairs. These are gigantic black leather affairs worth thousands of dollars that squeeze your arms and legs, kneed and pound every part of your back and thighs and talk to you via the giant control panel that allows you to customize your massage experience.
Keely does indeed end up going on for Heather (one of the lead roles) and does a really terrific job. The audience is probably one of the best we've ever had and is right there with us from the very first syllable. It is a great way to start this next leg of the tour and the lobby lounge is full of noise and celebration after the show. I suspect that several of the boys continued their celebrating well into the morning by joining the poker at the 'card room' around the corner from the hotel.
Oh, and just in case you are experiencing any jealously at all that we are in California, let it go. True, there is no snow, but I have yet to take my coat off and I could see my breath as we left the theatre last night. It is grey, wet and cold.
The theatre is right across the street from the hotel...the only reason I can think of to be staying in downtown Fresno. (Three nice things I can say about downtown Fresno: There are palm trees. The Radisson has good beds. There are palm trees.) Though the auditorium itself is a bit lacking in personality, the dressing rooms are deluxe and the green room has two super-duper-deluxe massage chairs that the cast keeps fighting over. These are not your 'as seen on TV' crap chairs that they demonstrate at home fairs. These are gigantic black leather affairs worth thousands of dollars that squeeze your arms and legs, kneed and pound every part of your back and thighs and talk to you via the giant control panel that allows you to customize your massage experience.
Keely does indeed end up going on for Heather (one of the lead roles) and does a really terrific job. The audience is probably one of the best we've ever had and is right there with us from the very first syllable. It is a great way to start this next leg of the tour and the lobby lounge is full of noise and celebration after the show. I suspect that several of the boys continued their celebrating well into the morning by joining the poker at the 'card room' around the corner from the hotel.
Oh, and just in case you are experiencing any jealously at all that we are in California, let it go. True, there is no snow, but I have yet to take my coat off and I could see my breath as we left the theatre last night. It is grey, wet and cold.
Tuesday, January 06, 2009
DIRTY ROTTEN FIRST DAY BACK
Michael and I spend the night in Toronto for a variety of reasons, not the least of which being that it is actually cheaper for us to get a hotel and airport direct transport than it is to get both of us to the airport from Niagara at crack-of-my-ass-o'clock in the morning.
The airport, at 5:30 a.m. is a 3 ring circus. Although our flights (Michael is on a different one that me) are through United Airlines, the plane is an Air Canada flight....bottom line is we get the run-around from both companies because no one knows where we should check in. (This lack of communication and direction eventually causes two of the cast members to miss their flight completely and end up spending the night in Las Vegas).
Michael heads off to his gate. I do the same (after much negotiation with airline personnel). The cast starts to dribble in. Because we are going to a very small airport in Fresno, we are all split onto 5 or 6 different flights, leaving at different times during the day and connecting through different cities. The rest of the cast on my flight begins to arrive. We find out that we are delayed by 60 minutes....it is only 8:30 a.m. and I have been up for 4 hours.
We finally leave Toronto on what is, apparently, the "Family Day" flight. Anyone who thinks that we're in a recession should take a flight somewhere. How short of money can you be if you can travel with your 3 or 4 children in tow. There are at least 10 families, all of them large, on the plane. Few of us are able to sleep.
Our connection is through Las Vegas. As we are an hour behind schedule, we have to hustle to get to the other terminal at Vegas airport, only to find that our departure from that gate is also delayed. When our plane does arrive, I am forced to point and laugh. It is a twin prop. tuna can with wings, holding perhaps 20 people. Our Stage Manager pales.
Regardless of how you feel about flying in small planes, (Heather kept clutching me arm every time we banked) there is no better way to view the beautiful Sierra Nevada Mountains. We are stunned at the spectacular views.
We arrive at Fresno and are forced to endure another delay, this one spent filling our forms because none of our luggage made it on to the plane and is still in Las Vegas. By the time we arrive at the hotel, I have been awake and travelling for 12 hours and proceed directly to the lobby lounge without even going to my room. Of course, there's no need to go to the room when one has no luggage. We hear several rumours about possible arrival times for our bags, none of them true. They finally arrive around 10 a.m. the next morning. The hotel doesn't bother to call anyone to let them know, they just stow the bags with the bellman and wait for us to call, one by one.
We hear that Heather has put her neck out at some point during the night and won't be doing the show, so we are in understudy mode. Fortunately, there is a 4 hour rehearsal call that was already scheduled simply because we've had 3 weeks off.
I guess you could say we're back on the road.....with a vengeance.
The adventure continues.
The airport, at 5:30 a.m. is a 3 ring circus. Although our flights (Michael is on a different one that me) are through United Airlines, the plane is an Air Canada flight....bottom line is we get the run-around from both companies because no one knows where we should check in. (This lack of communication and direction eventually causes two of the cast members to miss their flight completely and end up spending the night in Las Vegas).
Michael heads off to his gate. I do the same (after much negotiation with airline personnel). The cast starts to dribble in. Because we are going to a very small airport in Fresno, we are all split onto 5 or 6 different flights, leaving at different times during the day and connecting through different cities. The rest of the cast on my flight begins to arrive. We find out that we are delayed by 60 minutes....it is only 8:30 a.m. and I have been up for 4 hours.
We finally leave Toronto on what is, apparently, the "Family Day" flight. Anyone who thinks that we're in a recession should take a flight somewhere. How short of money can you be if you can travel with your 3 or 4 children in tow. There are at least 10 families, all of them large, on the plane. Few of us are able to sleep.
Our connection is through Las Vegas. As we are an hour behind schedule, we have to hustle to get to the other terminal at Vegas airport, only to find that our departure from that gate is also delayed. When our plane does arrive, I am forced to point and laugh. It is a twin prop. tuna can with wings, holding perhaps 20 people. Our Stage Manager pales.
Regardless of how you feel about flying in small planes, (Heather kept clutching me arm every time we banked) there is no better way to view the beautiful Sierra Nevada Mountains. We are stunned at the spectacular views.
We arrive at Fresno and are forced to endure another delay, this one spent filling our forms because none of our luggage made it on to the plane and is still in Las Vegas. By the time we arrive at the hotel, I have been awake and travelling for 12 hours and proceed directly to the lobby lounge without even going to my room. Of course, there's no need to go to the room when one has no luggage. We hear several rumours about possible arrival times for our bags, none of them true. They finally arrive around 10 a.m. the next morning. The hotel doesn't bother to call anyone to let them know, they just stow the bags with the bellman and wait for us to call, one by one.
We hear that Heather has put her neck out at some point during the night and won't be doing the show, so we are in understudy mode. Fortunately, there is a 4 hour rehearsal call that was already scheduled simply because we've had 3 weeks off.
I guess you could say we're back on the road.....with a vengeance.
The adventure continues.
Saturday, December 13, 2008
Dirty Rotten Naples Plus
I hadn't planned on making another entry for this leg of the tour, but this is too good to pass up.
There is a lot of money here and that is reflected in the shops we pass on the way to the theatre. It seems that all anybody ever does is redecorate their homes since there's a furniture or home accessories store every 200 yards. There is also a very high end shopping mall anchored by a large Saks Fifth Avenue. So imagine our delight as we pass a store that boldly stands out by proclaiming it's name in huge letters.....
"NOT JUST FUTONS AND BARSTOOLS". Not kidding. Not even a little bit.
There is a lot of money here and that is reflected in the shops we pass on the way to the theatre. It seems that all anybody ever does is redecorate their homes since there's a furniture or home accessories store every 200 yards. There is also a very high end shopping mall anchored by a large Saks Fifth Avenue. So imagine our delight as we pass a store that boldly stands out by proclaiming it's name in huge letters.....
"NOT JUST FUTONS AND BARSTOOLS". Not kidding. Not even a little bit.
DIRTY ROTTEN NAPLES
Or as I've taken to calling it, Nipples, Florida.....sunshine state my ass!!! Well, ok the sun IS shining but it's not really short pants weather. When one drives through miles and miles of orange groves and palm trees, one expects warm ocean breezes.
As soon as we arrive at the hotel, I dump my stuff and head toward the beach. I'm told it's about a 20 minute walk which is fine with me after sitting on a bus for days. I pass many, many large and expensive homes and condo units. Luxury cars and boats parked in the shade of waving palms. I eventually reach a public access point that allows me past the condo units to the beach which, I discover to my delight, is deserted. It's very, very windy and the surf is pounding in. I can feel the salt spray on my face and I park my ass on the soft white sand to enjoy the salt facial. After sitting for about 20 minutes and enjoying the solitude, I realize that I can barely see out of my glasses any more because they're covered with salt.
Our show is a quiet one, though I do have a Mr. Bean moment which causes me to crack myself up. In my scene with K.K., I lean back on the hotel desk and accidentally hit the little bell, which surprises me and causes me to reach around to silence it, which causes me to knock the phone off of it's cradle, which causes me to look like an inept juggler for the next few minutes as I try to put everything right. I am also trying to suppress the giggles. Throughout all of this, K.K. watches me with an expression that says, "I'm not at all sure what you're doing. Are you going to say your line any time soon?".
Today is our last day for this leg of the tour. We do an understudy rehearsal this afternoon, a show tonight and then we fly home tomorrow for the Christmas break.
As soon as we arrive at the hotel, I dump my stuff and head toward the beach. I'm told it's about a 20 minute walk which is fine with me after sitting on a bus for days. I pass many, many large and expensive homes and condo units. Luxury cars and boats parked in the shade of waving palms. I eventually reach a public access point that allows me past the condo units to the beach which, I discover to my delight, is deserted. It's very, very windy and the surf is pounding in. I can feel the salt spray on my face and I park my ass on the soft white sand to enjoy the salt facial. After sitting for about 20 minutes and enjoying the solitude, I realize that I can barely see out of my glasses any more because they're covered with salt.
Our show is a quiet one, though I do have a Mr. Bean moment which causes me to crack myself up. In my scene with K.K., I lean back on the hotel desk and accidentally hit the little bell, which surprises me and causes me to reach around to silence it, which causes me to knock the phone off of it's cradle, which causes me to look like an inept juggler for the next few minutes as I try to put everything right. I am also trying to suppress the giggles. Throughout all of this, K.K. watches me with an expression that says, "I'm not at all sure what you're doing. Are you going to say your line any time soon?".
Today is our last day for this leg of the tour. We do an understudy rehearsal this afternoon, a show tonight and then we fly home tomorrow for the Christmas break.
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Dirty Rotten Editing
Clearly I've been doing my part to help keep telecommunication companies in business. It seems that someone from Paducah read my blog and was offended by it. Telephone calls have been burning across borders ever since.
The purpose of my blog has always been to entertain. Stimulate, yes. Engage, sure. Titillate, perhaps. Enlighten, enliven and encourage conversation....absolutely. But the primary reason the blog exists is to entertain people by sending tiny little bits and bytes of me and my crazy life out into cyberspace so that those in my life, and the people in their circles don't seem so far away.
None the less, in the interest of international peace & goodwill (it is Christmas after all), in the interest of international commerce (the economy being what it is), in the interest of the greater good and proving that we humans might be able to prove our self-professed superior intellect if we keep trying, I have graciously decided to edit the chapter in question.
In the interest of authenticity, however, I decided to leave my spelling and grammatical errors intact.
The purpose of my blog has always been to entertain. Stimulate, yes. Engage, sure. Titillate, perhaps. Enlighten, enliven and encourage conversation....absolutely. But the primary reason the blog exists is to entertain people by sending tiny little bits and bytes of me and my crazy life out into cyberspace so that those in my life, and the people in their circles don't seem so far away.
None the less, in the interest of international peace & goodwill (it is Christmas after all), in the interest of international commerce (the economy being what it is), in the interest of the greater good and proving that we humans might be able to prove our self-professed superior intellect if we keep trying, I have graciously decided to edit the chapter in question.
In the interest of authenticity, however, I decided to leave my spelling and grammatical errors intact.
Tuesday, December 09, 2008
Dirty Rotten Tallahassee
So the thing about KY restaurants not serving liquor on Sundays turns out to be not true. We now begin to wonder if the helpful local crew member who whipped us into a frenzy with horror stories of dry Kentucky on a Sunday is having a good laugh with her quilting group. It's true that you can't buy it, but restaurants can serve it as many of the company find as the day progresses.
Another day of travel mayhem looms ahead of as I try to run away from reality by slapping the snooze button on my 6 a.m. alarm. We load the bus and depart the hotel by 7 a.m. heading for Nashville to catch a 10:50 a.m. flight. Ten or so minutes of driving on the interstate and we have to turn around. Keely has left her purse (and therefore, her passport) in the breakfast room. The real comedy here is the fact that moments before we departed, Jessica brought the purse onboard, thinking that it belonged to Karen Kay. When Karen Kay said that it was not hers, Jessica returned the purse to the breakfast room where she found it.
En route to Nashsville airport we encounter a serious traffic slow down due to an accident. This slow down, combined with our unscheduled return to the hotel puts us in jeopardy of missing our flight. Suddenly, everything turns into a military operation as we figure out the best way to stream line our check-in and departure. Our airline reservations have been made in groups of four, so we are divided into those groups, one person in each group responsible for checking-in and printing the boarding passes of the other 3. We are STRONGLY ENCOURAGED to leave every possible bit of baggage on the bus since it will arrive in Tallahasee by the time we finish the show. This will keep us from being held up by checking and paying for stowed luggage. (Currently, I have nothing with me but my purse, my laptop and some contact lenses. I am hoping that the bus gets here before our reception after the show so that I can at least change my shirt.) We blow through the airport like a force to be reckoned with and arrive at the departure gate with time enough to buy a coffee and/or muffin. We should have had the soundtrack from an "Indiana Jones" movie playing during our assault on the terminal.
We arrive, an hour later, in Atlanta to make our connection to Tallahasee......and disaster strikes. The flight has been over-sold and four of our cast may have to wait for the next flight. The rest of us board and cross our fingers. Three of the missing four board the plane, (thanks to volunteers who are willing to take a later flight) but Melanie is left behind in Atlanta. Tyler will now have to drop us off at the hotel and then return to airport to await her arrival. Tyler shows no visible signs of stress except for his hair that grows taller and fluffier as he continues to run his hands through it.
Tallahasee is another arena show, like the one in London. No ice this time, but the same otherwise. The p0st-show reception is no small affair. They have laid out a spread for us and their subscribers that includes a seafood buffet, roast beef, roast turkey, and coffee & liqueur bar.....you name it. One of the subscribers tells me that this is the bonus for having to play in an arena and that a performing arts center in the works. The bus has not arrived as we thought it would so those of us who left everything on it earlier in the day now look conspiculously under-dressed and under-shaven for a "do" of this calibre.
The view of Tallahasee from my 14th floor hotel room is stunning. It seems as though this little city was just dropped into the midst of a forest, greenery stretching off to the horizon.
Sunday, December 07, 2008
DIRTY ROTTEN PADUCAH ky
The theatre is beautiful and the community is quite proud of it. It cost 50 million, 20 of with the government gave them and they fund-raised the rest. We've played to about 1,200 people each night and they loved the show.
We averted a near disaster last night. Today is our day off, which means we are spending it here in Paducah. One of the local crew happened to overhear us talking about the things we wanted to do and informed us that, not only can you not buy liquor in Kentucky on a Sunday, RESTAURANTS CANNOT SERVE IT EITHER !!!!!!!!!!! We knew we were in the bible belt but COME ON. It reminds me of the bad old days in Alberta when your food bill had to be higher than your liquor bill in order to appease the Churchies. We informed our company manager that if he wanted to avoid a mutiny, the bus would make a stop at the liquor store on the way back to the hotel so that we could have cocktails on our day off. I'm sure the employees at the liquor store are still talking about the night that 20 crazy people stormed the store. It's even possible that a sign has gone up that says, "No more than 5 actors at a time."
Tomorrow will be another long day as we have to leave the hotel at 6 a.m. to drive to Nashville in order to fly to Tallahassee FL....then do a show that night. At least it will be warmers.
Photos of Michael and Sarah in and out of their crew bus.
Friday, December 05, 2008
Dirty Rotten Ames
An uneventful trip from Minneapolis to Ames Iowa. There is more grumbling and outbursts as we arrive at the hotel to find that, once again, the info. sheets are a lie and there are no actual restaurants within walking distance. Our company manager is, once again, on the phone screaming at people. Who needs t.v. when we can just push the company manager's buttons and watch him go.
The theatre is on the campus of Iowa State University and it is HUGE!!!! No, I mean really, truly, gargantuan. We've played theatres that hold 2500 people before, but something about the design of this one makes the space particularly cavernous. The main floor holds 1700 and playing to the back row is like playing to the other end of a football field. There are three balconies and the top one is high enough that you could base jump from it. Obviously, we're a big attraction as the main floor is mostly full and there are a good number of seats sold on the first level balcony and loges. Steve and I, in an effort to articulate, give the orchestra a 2 hour spit-shower. It's like playing the coliseum in Rome.
Upon returning to the hotel, any restaurant that will deliver does a hefty business as the post-show hunger sets in.
Another day of traveling as we begin making our way to Paducah KY. (Come on, say it out loud. It's fun. Paducah!) Today we will get half-way there, spending the night in Champaign IL. When do we get to the warm states again?
The theatre is on the campus of Iowa State University and it is HUGE!!!! No, I mean really, truly, gargantuan. We've played theatres that hold 2500 people before, but something about the design of this one makes the space particularly cavernous. The main floor holds 1700 and playing to the back row is like playing to the other end of a football field. There are three balconies and the top one is high enough that you could base jump from it. Obviously, we're a big attraction as the main floor is mostly full and there are a good number of seats sold on the first level balcony and loges. Steve and I, in an effort to articulate, give the orchestra a 2 hour spit-shower. It's like playing the coliseum in Rome.
Upon returning to the hotel, any restaurant that will deliver does a hefty business as the post-show hunger sets in.
Another day of traveling as we begin making our way to Paducah KY. (Come on, say it out loud. It's fun. Paducah!) Today we will get half-way there, spending the night in Champaign IL. When do we get to the warm states again?
Thursday, December 04, 2008
DIRTY ROTTEN MINNEAPOLIS
After hours of driving through endless evergreen forest on a two-lane highway (shades of my childhood in Northern Manitoba) we finally reach the interstate and begin to re-emerge into civilization.
While unpacking the night before, I realize that I have left the power cord for my laptop in the hotel in London. This stresses me a lot because not only can I not charge or use my laptop, but my mp3 player also needs to be charged from the laptop. Translation: I've just lost 80% of my bus-ride entertainment. We stop for a meal break in Hayward WI, a pimple with a grain elevator in the middle of nowhere, and I spy a tiny shack with a sign that says, " GADGETS - computer sales & service". I figure it's a long-shot, but worth a try. To my major astonishment, they have a choice of 2 power cords for me to buy! Clearly it was meant to be. (The housekeepers in London have since been in touch and are mailing my old power cord to my house.)
As we near Minneapolis, the children are all planning what kind of exciting "things" they're going to do on our night in the big city. Though I really enjoy my cast, I don't need to spend 24 hours a day with them, and I picture myself , alone, in a civilized martini bar somewhere, watching the world and enjoying the sensation of NOT moving. A short walk from the hotel finds me exactly what I'm dreaming of. Lots of teak, a long bar, black leather on the stools. I stand out from the after-work-business crowd, but the detailed way in which I order my martini earns me an almost audible murmer of acceptance. I begin to understand how right I was to let my nose lead me to this place...there is a line of martini glasses chilling with ice cubes behind the bar, a squeeze bottle of olive juice in the fridge and the bartender asks me how cold I prefer my martinis !!!! The shoppers shop, the music muses, the business crowd bizes....all is well in my world.
On the way back to the hotel I stop at MASA, an upscale Mexican restauraunt because I notice that they do take out. I order 3 chicken tacos (the authentic soft kind, not the Americanized crunchy kind)and take them back to my room. I am floored by how delicious they are. Best Mexican food I've had outside of Mexico !!!
N.B.
Downtown Minneapolis is very much like downtown Calgary, but with people.
The bed in my suite is so huge I have to roll over three times to be able to read the time on the alarm clock. I laugh out loud and drift away.
Tuesday, December 02, 2008
Dirty Rotten Blizzard
The matinee in London reaches it's conclusion without incident. It is a smaller, quieter crowd - Sunday afternoon with Granny.
Our plan is to get directly on the bus and begin our lengthy trek to Houghton MI. It's so remote that we'll have to do it in 2 installments, aiming to end the first part by over-nighting in Gaylord MI. As we leave London and head toward the Sarnia border crossing, the snow has already started to fall and continues to get heavier as we drive. We manage to make it across the border fairly quickly and easily. (We hear later that the crew gets hassled by a dickhead with an inflated sense of self-importance who eventually (and inexplicably) charges them all $6.00 and lets them continue.
We stop for a meal break at a Cracker Barrell restaurant/country store which is the ultimate in fake country/homey kitsch. But the fire is real the biscuits are hot. We watch the snow continue to pile up on the rocking chairs outside the windows.
Driving on, the road conditions get worse and worse and the bus goes slower and slower. We realize that our ETA is getting later and later. Drinking begins. Our stage manager realizes that it's probably not the best time to try to enforce the alcohol rules at this point. We eventually reach our hotel in Gaylord at 2 a.m., tired, grumpy and more that a little tipsy. We wake up the entire hotel on our way to our rooms. Though I am only in the room for 6 hours, I make a mental note to ask the rest of the cast if their rooms are decorated with photos of Neuschwanstein, the castle from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang.
The morning comes too soon as we load the bus at 10 a.m to continue. Though the snow has let up, the roads are still covered and there are many phone calls being made as to the fate of tonight's show. The producers insist that we try to make it there, even though the trucks and crew will not arrive in time to do a complete set up. It is decided that we will do a 'bare-bone's version of the show, eliminating large set pieces, back drops and even some costumes. Our ETA is 6:15 for a 7:30 show. Our joy at doing yet another 'version' of the show can only matched by our ecstasy at the thought of spending another 8 hour day on the bus tomorrow. Fortunately, we have all purchased ligour from the gas station.
We arrive at the hotel at 6:20 for what is supposed to be a 7:30 show. We are given 30 minutes to shower/shave/pray/vomit and tole that the curtain will be held for as long as it takes for us to do a sound check and safety-spacing rehearsal. The show starts at 8:02 and the crowd goes wild.
Sunday, November 30, 2008
Dirty Rotten London
We arrive in London in plenty of time to do a little life administration. I make use of the free time to find a haircut and visit the market.
On the bus, there has been much discussion as to whether our show is at 7:30 or 8:00. This uncertainty apparently arises from the fact that we still don't have a signed contract from this venue. While I can understand how this might account for the lack of information, I wonder aloud if anyone has thought of contacting the box office by phone or on line. I'm certain that the people who are purchasing tickets will have a time printed on them. This idea is met with a why-don't-you-go-be-a-smarty-pants-somewhere-else glare.
As it turns out, the showtime is 8:00, so we arrive at the "theatre" with time enough to have a meeting about the newest wrinkle in our lives. Canadian Actors' Equity, in it's infinite wisdom, has decided that, under the terms of The Canadian Theatre Agreement, it is illegal for us to do a spacing rehearsal and/or sound check before our half-hour call. They consider this a proper rehearsal which can only take place provided that there is a minimum of 90 minutes break before the half-hour call. It doesn't take a team from MENSA to figure out that this is virtually impossible with the kind of schedule we're working on. The spacing is not so much of a problem. The sound check is....but I'll get to that.
The reason "theatre" is in quotes is because we are playing the John Labatt centre. This is where people go to see hockey games and rock concerts. It's an area. An ice rink, not a theatre, in spite of the fact that they sell a "broadway series" out of this venue. Take one large hockey arena, add a portable, raised stage and a mountain of black masking draps. Section off one quarter of the arena at one of the round ends and place the stage on the ice that has been covered with a layer of insulation. The sectioned off 1/4 becomes the "theatre" and the remaining 3/4 of the arena becomes "backstage".
Given the "no sound check" rule, the first half of the show is a nightmare as mics explode with squeaks, pops, bangs, screeches and howls....that is, when they're working at all. The orchestra, as well as a significant portion of the audience, are freezing because, even though the ice has been covered, the cold still seeps up through the insulation into one's feet/legs. The temporary stage is hollow underneath so the sound of huge set pieces being rolled on and off is deafening. I start a rumour that Disney and Columbia Artists have begun negotiation for "Dirty Rotten Scoundrels On Ice", to do a tour of arenas around the country next year.
Still, the show goes well yet again. I am very surprised that when Christy sings the lyrics "Watch me blow the little fuckers heads right off" she gets a huge laugh. Not the kind of response one expects from uptight, middle class London.
We drink, knowing that we have to do it all over again for today's matinee before getting on a bus and traveling to a place called Gaylord, Michigan.
On the bus, there has been much discussion as to whether our show is at 7:30 or 8:00. This uncertainty apparently arises from the fact that we still don't have a signed contract from this venue. While I can understand how this might account for the lack of information, I wonder aloud if anyone has thought of contacting the box office by phone or on line. I'm certain that the people who are purchasing tickets will have a time printed on them. This idea is met with a why-don't-you-go-be-a-smarty-pants-somewhere-else glare.
As it turns out, the showtime is 8:00, so we arrive at the "theatre" with time enough to have a meeting about the newest wrinkle in our lives. Canadian Actors' Equity, in it's infinite wisdom, has decided that, under the terms of The Canadian Theatre Agreement, it is illegal for us to do a spacing rehearsal and/or sound check before our half-hour call. They consider this a proper rehearsal which can only take place provided that there is a minimum of 90 minutes break before the half-hour call. It doesn't take a team from MENSA to figure out that this is virtually impossible with the kind of schedule we're working on. The spacing is not so much of a problem. The sound check is....but I'll get to that.
The reason "theatre" is in quotes is because we are playing the John Labatt centre. This is where people go to see hockey games and rock concerts. It's an area. An ice rink, not a theatre, in spite of the fact that they sell a "broadway series" out of this venue. Take one large hockey arena, add a portable, raised stage and a mountain of black masking draps. Section off one quarter of the arena at one of the round ends and place the stage on the ice that has been covered with a layer of insulation. The sectioned off 1/4 becomes the "theatre" and the remaining 3/4 of the arena becomes "backstage".
Given the "no sound check" rule, the first half of the show is a nightmare as mics explode with squeaks, pops, bangs, screeches and howls....that is, when they're working at all. The orchestra, as well as a significant portion of the audience, are freezing because, even though the ice has been covered, the cold still seeps up through the insulation into one's feet/legs. The temporary stage is hollow underneath so the sound of huge set pieces being rolled on and off is deafening. I start a rumour that Disney and Columbia Artists have begun negotiation for "Dirty Rotten Scoundrels On Ice", to do a tour of arenas around the country next year.
Still, the show goes well yet again. I am very surprised that when Christy sings the lyrics "Watch me blow the little fuckers heads right off" she gets a huge laugh. Not the kind of response one expects from uptight, middle class London.
We drink, knowing that we have to do it all over again for today's matinee before getting on a bus and traveling to a place called Gaylord, Michigan.
Thursday, November 27, 2008
Dirty Rotten Hamilton - The Dirty Rotten Scoundrels National Tour
Ah yes......Hamilton. It's kind of a double edged sword to be here. We're happy to be back in Canada for a few days, but we're stuck here in polluted, piss-stained Hamilton until we leave for London on Saturday. Ah well, the theatre is nice and the shows are selling well.
Yesterday....
We wake in Roanoke VA and board our bus at 4:30 a.m. to begin the 3 hour drive to the airport in Charlotte NC. Most of us manage to sleep the whole way. It is THE MOST traveled day of they year (thanks to American Thanksgiving) and the airport is already swarming with people, but there is plenty of staff everywhere and things go very smoothly. Some of us are introduced to a new tool in America's on-going efforts to fool itself into a sense of security with it's security theatrics. It's a bit like a glaucoma test for your whole body. Little puffs or air are blown at you and any chemicals present on your body are lifted off and read by sensors as they float in the air. Only random people are subjected to this however so, ......security theatrics.
The flight is uneventful. We land in Toronto around 11:30 and clear customs without incident. We are notified at this point, however, that the crew bus and the trucks carrying the show have not crossed the border yet. We begin making plans to do a 'concert version' of the show. We check into the hotel in Hamilton and stumble onto the street among the crack-whores to try to find food. The hotel is right across the street from the theatre so we notice that the crew bus has arrived (1:30). This give us hope. Some food, some shopping, a cocktail, a nap, a shower and it's time to get to the theatre for the 6:30 call. We arrive to discover that the show is pretty much ready to go. The crew has performed a Herculean task by unloading and setting up two, fully loaded semi's in 4 hours. We are stunned.
This afternoon we, that is all of us who are understudying someone else, are called to do an understudy run of the show. Then another performance tonight. Then a well deserved day off tomorrow. Maybe we can join the unemployed and uninterested at the bingo palace down the street?
Also, as of this posting, I will start putting these entries on my blog so that anyone can read them.
www.actorinexile.blogspot.com
Yesterday....
We wake in Roanoke VA and board our bus at 4:30 a.m. to begin the 3 hour drive to the airport in Charlotte NC. Most of us manage to sleep the whole way. It is THE MOST traveled day of they year (thanks to American Thanksgiving) and the airport is already swarming with people, but there is plenty of staff everywhere and things go very smoothly. Some of us are introduced to a new tool in America's on-going efforts to fool itself into a sense of security with it's security theatrics. It's a bit like a glaucoma test for your whole body. Little puffs or air are blown at you and any chemicals present on your body are lifted off and read by sensors as they float in the air. Only random people are subjected to this however so, ......security theatrics.
The flight is uneventful. We land in Toronto around 11:30 and clear customs without incident. We are notified at this point, however, that the crew bus and the trucks carrying the show have not crossed the border yet. We begin making plans to do a 'concert version' of the show. We check into the hotel in Hamilton and stumble onto the street among the crack-whores to try to find food. The hotel is right across the street from the theatre so we notice that the crew bus has arrived (1:30). This give us hope. Some food, some shopping, a cocktail, a nap, a shower and it's time to get to the theatre for the 6:30 call. We arrive to discover that the show is pretty much ready to go. The crew has performed a Herculean task by unloading and setting up two, fully loaded semi's in 4 hours. We are stunned.
This afternoon we, that is all of us who are understudying someone else, are called to do an understudy run of the show. Then another performance tonight. Then a well deserved day off tomorrow. Maybe we can join the unemployed and uninterested at the bingo palace down the street?
Also, as of this posting, I will start putting these entries on my blog so that anyone can read them.
www.actorinexile.blogspot.com
Thursday, May 10, 2007
Drone Of Arc
I have been actively enjoying live theatre for more than twenty years. In that time I have walked out of 3 plays, the third being last night, Shaw's "St. Joan" at The Shaw Festival. I have always, always believed that even a bad play is better than what Hollywood thinks is a good movie, and can usually find some reason to stay in my seat. Why, I sat through four and a half hours of Shaw's "Heartbreak House", challenged, confused, bored at times, mystified at times, but the production fed me enough to keep me going. Last night's production fed me nothing and by intermission I was suffering severe malnutrition. Where have all the directors gone?
Monday, March 12, 2007
If an actor falls in the forest...
My posts have grown fewer and fewer over the past year or so. Symptomatic, I think, of my loss of interest in the business at large.
I recently made the decision to take a big step away from acting for an un-defined period of time. And these are the reasons why:
I recently made the decision to take a big step away from acting for an un-defined period of time. And these are the reasons why:
- I'm tired of the new acting style that everyone seems to be in love with, where there's a lot of raging around, 'dancing your pain' and chewing the scenery, but very little truth, subtlety or detail
I'm tired of seeing people who are far, far less talented than I get the roles because they are either in 'the circle' or because they have been tossed up the charts as the next big flavour of the month.
- I'm tired of charlatans and snake-oil salesmen getting hired as artistic directors. They seem very good at bamboozling a board and talking a good game but ultimately mis-lead and mis-represent the acting community and the public they're supposed to be serving.
- I'm tired of an apathetic public that would rather see 98% of their movie dollar go to America than see 99% of their live theatre dollar stay in Canada.
- I'm tired of the lack of interest from government.
- I'm tired of putting my dreams and plans on hold as I take the jobs that keep me on the road.
Let me assure you that, though all of this could be read with a heart-breaking symphony in the background and self-pitying vocal waver, that is not the case. I am simply tired of many aspects of it. As I've said to many friends, "I still really like my job, I'm just not finding that my job is liking me very much these days."
The point being, though I will leave Actor in Exile posted on the web, it's content may change as I begin to explore other areas of my life. After all....the journey IS the destination...right?
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