There is no way to count the number of musicals that I have experienced over the course of my life … between the shows I have directed, the shows for which I have played piano, and the shows I have seen as a plain old audience member. The thought of trying to calculate the number leaves my head swimming, so I’ll just say that I have experienced A LOT of shows over the years. (Someday, I will try to list them all …. and while I’m at it I’ll try to list all of the operas as well. Added together, that would be a staggering number of performances.)
It is only very, very recently that it has occurred to me how these experiences have come in several distinct flavors. There have been those shows for which I have served as director – or piano accompanist – or both …. in which I know every cubic interest of the first performance (at least musically speaking) before it even happens. There are those performances where I am in the audience as nothing more than an audience member, where I know the piece in question but have no idea what to expect in terms of the production itself or the performances of the cast. Finally, there are those performances in which I come with what amounts to a Clean Slate – and that’s when it is a show that I have never seen before and know relatively little about (and there are occasions when I know next-to-nothing about the show.) This is three very different experiences from each other- and each has its own particular charms.
The show I have experienced most recently from inside-out, as director, is the Racine Theater Guild’s current production of the musical 9 to 5 by the one and only Dolly Parton. If you are of a certain age, you probably remember the hit movie starring Ms. Parton, Lily Tomlin and Jane Fonda as three women caught in a morass of workplace misery because their boss, Mr. Hart, is a self-serving, arrogant and awful son-of-a-*****. The movie – despite its excellence – has never screamed “Make a Musical out of Me!” and I am still pretty shocked and amazed that anybody ever thought that such a transformation made sense and could be done. But it has happened- in large part thanks to the industrious Dolly Parton herself, who has penned a plethora of new, additional songs to slide on top of her famous workplace anthem “9 to 5.”
I have been part of this production since the exciting days when we held auditions for it back in March. People came out in very impressive numbers for these auditions- evidently this show got a lot of people very excited – and by the time we were all done, we could probably have triple-cast the three female leads (as well as the part of Roz) if we had wanted to. That’s how deep the talent pool was. In the end we made the tough choices that we had to – and have never once regretted casting Kara Ernst, Dana Roders or Kimberly Gibson in the crucial lead roles of Violet, Judy and Doralee. They each bring their own particular personality and approach to the table and the result is a very compelling chemistry between the three of them that works wonderfully well. They are joined by some marvelous people such as Bob Benson playing the lecherous Mr. Hart, and Jennifer Larsen having delicious fun with the role of Mr. Hart’s ever-groveling, ever-devoted administrative assistant Roz. The ensemble is an excellent group that is a combination of RTG standouts with some RTG newcomers that have been called upon not only to sing and act up a storm, but also to participate in nearly all of the major scene changes. The show is immensely complicated from a technical point of view, and we’re just lucky to have a cast that is as patient and focused as it is ….. to say nothing of the small army of volunteer crew members (many recruited by my wife, the production stage manager of this production) without whom this show would be utterly impossible.
To see a performance of a show like this is so strange. I come to it pretty much knowing every nook and cranny of the score- and knowing the strengths and weaknesses of the cast as well- so there tends to be very little in the way of significant surprises. And yet, I absolutely love the experience of sitting back and just allowing the performance to unfold as it will – and there is something about (mostly) knowing how it will all turn out that makes it possible to enjoy the performance even more thoroughly than I otherwise would. Part of that comes with the wisdom of old age and being able to accept that the performance is going to be what it is, peppered with all kinds of small imperfections that used to drive me crazy. I’ve become better at accepting the small imperfections and letting them fade in relationship to all of the excellence. And with a group as dedicated as this one has been from the start, it is very easy to just open up my heart and take it all in without hesitancy or regret …. and then heartily join in the audience’s standing ovation at the end for a job well done.
In the case of 9 to 5, there actually were some surprises when I saw the show on opening night – because the last rehearsals I had attended had been fraught with all kinds of glitches, which are all but unavoidable with a show this technically complicated. Some of the rapid set changes had looked rough- quick costume changes were not always successful- and there was an uneasy sense that things were hanging together by the skin of their teeth. But over the course of the last few rehearsals, during what is appropriately nicknamed Hell Week, things came together in an almost miraculous way …. albeit through good old fashioned hard work versus the waving of some magic wand …. and the full performance I saw on opening night was truly incredible. And there were more than a few instances when I found it hard to believe that what I was watching and hearing was community theater. And I was genuinely thrilled and honored to have a small sliver of responsibility for what was on that stage.
Of course, I see most of the shows I see as a plain old audience member – although once in a while, I am there to cheer on a student of mine or a loved one. In the case of the Kenosha Unified School District’s production of Lionel Bart’s Oliver, I wore both of those hats – cheering on a talented private voice student of mine named Josh Reget as well as my gifted niece Lorelai Amborn. And by some luck of the draw, I ended up with a seat in the very front row, next to my good friend Judy Kirby, a retired middle school choir director from Kenosha who now teaches some of our methods courses for our music ed. majors at Carthage. I sat next to her and her husband as we took in together a lively and colorful production of Oliver that left us deeply impressed. I know the show quite well, even though I have never directed it, but I did not know exactly how this production of it would unfold – so getting to see it from such a close vantage point was quite exciting. And there is something pretty irresistible about seeing talented middle school and high school students (plus a crackerjack young boy as Oliver) lighting up the stage with such energy and passion.
It’s fun to see a show you already know – it’s like getting reacquainted with an old friend – but there is a special pleasure in seeing a show for a very first time. I’ve actually had that pleasure twice in the last two weeks. The first was Carthage’s main stage spring musical Flora the Red Menace, a show I had never even heard of until I saw its title on a poster hanging in the Johnson Arts Center. It may be a little-known show, but it has very impressive pedigree; it was the first creation of Kander & Ebb, the duo-geniuses behind Cabaret and Chicago and it was the show that served as the Broadway debut of the legendary Liza Minelli. The plot centers around a big-dreaming wannabe fashion designer named Flora Meszaros who is trying to find a place in the industry during the difficult days of the Great Depression- and ends up befriending a number of other struggling artists that includes a Community Party activist who wants to unionize the large department store where Flora has finally landed a coveted position. This is yet another instance (like 9 to 5 and Oliver) of a show that does not even remotely align with a typical musical plot- but in fact it works remarkably well (even if the inexperience of Kander & Ebb is apparent from time to time, especially in the pacing of the plot) and I was really glad I came …. even though it was after a long and exhausting day at State Solo & Ensemble. It was worth it to be introduced to a completely new-to-me show with a terrific message about the courage it takes to make hard choices for principles beyond one’s own self-interest. (And I appreciated even more what I saw and heard when I learned how the production lost its male lead early on- and subsequently lost the young man tagged to replace him when he realized fairly quickly that this was more than he could manage. But the third lead proved to be the charm- he was great!) What a powerful performance.
It’s fun to experience just about any piece for the very first time, no matter how good or not-so-good it turns out be. (That famous line from the movie Forrest Gump comes to mind: Life is like a box of chocolates- You never know what kind you’re going to get.) But your first encounter with a masterpiece is one of life’s greatest delights- and that was the thrill that Kathy and I had back on May 7th when we got to see Come From Away by Irene Sankoff and David Hein. Of all of the shows I’ve talked about here, this is probably the one with the unlikeliest premise at the heart of it. I don’t know how anyone could have possibly thought that this largely forgotten story from 9-11 could be the springboard for one of the most amazing shows ever created- but I’m glad that somebody got such a crazy idea and ran with it. And I am also glad that our friend Kate Barrow gave us tickets to the show as Christmas gifts; as we settled into our seats at the Marcus Center, both of us felt that delicious anticipation that comes with seeing a show for the first time and knowing almost certainly that you’re about to experience something very special indeed.
The story of Come From Away concerns the 38 commercial planes that were forced to land at the airport at Gander, NewFoundland, Canada on 9-11 when all airplane flights in U.S. air space were grounded out of fear that there might be more highjacking attempts. Gander, a small community of about 7,000 people, suddenly had to be host to nearly that many unexpected guests…. the passengers of these grounded flights. The show is about that small town’s efforts to house, feed and comfort those 7,000 strangers – and what it was like for those 7,000 strangers to have their lives unexpectedly upended in this way. The show shares a fair amount of information about the logistics of such an undertaking from the perspective of an array of townspeople who sprang into action (I especially enjoyed the breathless news reports of a young and inexperienced reporter who was doing her best to cover the event), made some mistakes, but found a way to make it all happen. The show does an incredible job of conveying the bewilderment and frustration that was part of that day, when so little was known about what had happened- or what was coming next. The show also does not shy away from some of the darker feelings and attitudes that were part of the experience, including suspicion (often tied to racism), resentment, selfishness, and anger. More than anything, however, the show is a deeply moving celebration of how good human beings can be to each other – even under the most tragic or trying circumstances.
The score is a bit unconventional in that it does not have very many songs- but it’s beautifully crafted in such a way that it effectively underscores every facet of the story and bring every character vividly to life. It’s also one of those increasingly common shows in which each actor plays at least two different characters- in this case, each singer portrayed at least one of the citizens of Gander and at least one of the stranded passengers. It was astounding how clearly and convincingly these performers were able to delineate different characters through posture, inflection, and modest little costume touches (e.g. donning a hat or a jacket). This also meant that the performers had almost no break at all through the course of an uninterrupted 100-minute performance. (There was no intermission.) So it was little wonder that the cast was accorded one of the most gigantic ovations I have ever heard in my life; we were standing and cheering and roaring as though we were at a rock concert, so grateful for all that these performers had unstintingly given us. And as the musicians continued to playing, I didn’t see a single audience member sneaking off to the exits. We wanted to savor every moment, right to the sound of the last chord dying way- and we were so incredibly grateful to have been there.
But I have to say that the performers were rewarded not only with a huge ovation at the evening’s end- but also with rapt attention. One of the most memorable moments from that night was when a character shares some heartbreaking news about a loved one- and for a few moments there was an extraordinary silence in that huge hall. Not a cough. No rustling of programs. It was a profound, penetrating silence – and the very best compliment that those performers could be given.
And one more powerful reminder of the utter magic of live theater.