Return to the City of Angels

My sweet grandmother and I went to LA this past Wednesday. I told no one, so I could surprise the cast of Macbeth. Watching peoples faces as they saw me was one of the best parts of the trip. :)

We went to the Getty, ate lots of good food, I finally watched Tropic Thunder (thank God for the margaritas I drank beforehand), I saw a bagpipe band in a bar, and watched Macbeth twice.

The set was simple and yet perfect. The lights were beautiful. And the show itself was beyond amazing. GM didn't quite understand why I wanted to see it twice. Friday night's show was good, but not great. Saturday's was spectacular. I told her that is why you see it twice.

I also got to see my friend Shawn in a play of his that closed last week. He was fantastic. The rest of the play, not so much.

It was a little surreal to be at the Banshee and not be in the booth. I felt this instinct to set props and vacuum floors. My aunty told me that she needed to clean the theatre before Friday's show and I said, "Can I help?" She looked at me like I was completely insane (which I am) and then agreed. I did like that I didn't have to clean the blood off the stage after the show. I watched with glee while their current stage manager did it.

She did an admirable job for this being the first show she's ever stage managed, but there were a couple of times, particularly on Saturday night when I longed to go and kick her out of "my" booth. Thankfully, my self-control is better than that.

To think that if I'd left today instead of yesterday I could have gone to a party at Mel Gibson's. Damn.

P.S. Best luck to my fellow Banshees who are nominated for LA Drama Critic's Circle Awards! Win something tonight!

An Ovation for Banshee!

Theatre Banshee has finally won it's first Ovation Award! This is the L.A. equivalent of the Oscars and our own Barry Lynch nabbed one last night for his work as Candy in Of Mice and Men!

Last year, we got one nomination for Matt Foyer in Power and we got two nominations this year! (For Mark Colson's Slim in Of Mice and Men in addition to Mr. Lynch.)

I wrote Barry and e-mail today to congratulate him and he replied with two words, "Come home."

Congrats, Barry!

My Wailing Wall

What's this, you say? Well, Robyn dubbed this my "Wailing Wall." This is my wall of Banshee postcards. There's one for each show I stage managed and one for Red Noses, since it was what inspired me to stage manage for these guys in the first place. I've got the card for The Year of the Hiker (thanks, Sean!), since I did the sound design for it, but I need a frame for it.

Why is there a set of keys hanging next to them? Those are my keys to the theatre. Being held in a place of honor until my return.

There are some excellent reviews so far! Go here to see all the fantastic things being said! Would they have left my name out of the program if I'd been there? Who knows, but I'm guessing not.

*Note* I painted my walls this color many years ago. It was supposed to be more red than fuschia... It was a phase. What do you want from me?

Grades, Pinot, and Hell Week

Many apologies for the lack of substantive posts lately. I could use midterms as an excuse, but they were pretty easy. I got an A on my Odyssey paper and an A- on my collaborative report for my technical writing class (on governmental cloning regulations, no less). Hooray for me.

We had a very lovely wine tasting this weekend and sampled four different bottles of Pinot Noir. Who knew that when I moved back to Utah (The Insane Liquor Law State) that I would become part of a group that has a monthly wine tasting. I'm learning more about what wines I like and dislike than I ever did living in Hedonistic L.A. (The What Liquor Laws? State)

And yet, at more than one moment during the sulfite-infused evening, I found my thoughts wandering to the work call that had taken place at The Banshee that day and the tech day that happened yesterday. I kept wondering how my auntie and uncle were coping with the insanity of getting the lights and sound incorporated into the show.

They say it went well, but that stage managing is not either's cup of tea. Lucky for me, yes?

I'll be thinking of them a lot this week. Tonight for the first dress rehearsal. Thursday for the first preview. And most of all on Saturday for the first opening night in almost six years that I won't be there for. I hope it goes as smoothly as it can and that all the nit-picky advice that I've passed on over the last couple of months will make it as easy as possible for them.

I mailed my opening night cards to the theatre today. Kick some ass for me, my cherubs! And break a leg!

Next time: Why is it good luck to say "Merde" to someone? Anybody?

In Absentia

So...

Tonight Theatre Banshee starts rehearsals for it's new show The Year of the Hiker....

I'm not there.

Yes, my aunt and her hubby are SMing in my place. Yes, this makes me feel slightly better. Yes, I've agreed to do the sound design from two states away.

Would I rather be there for the next six weeks, missing on sleep, nagging people to learn their lines, setting props, learning cues, recording blocking, and otherwise working my ass off?

Bet your ass.

At 8pm (Utah time) tonight, I'll think of them all gathering, handing out scripts, introducing the newbies, shaking off the dust since the last show. That perfect little black box, waiting for the magical transformation that will occur over the next month and a half.

Damn.

On a lighter note, my mom has offered to buy me a set of walking sticks with a flask in the handle of one, if I decide to stay in Utah. More on that next time.

Things I’ve learned from stage managing…

It’s possible to make tar that you can get out of everything except a pair of suede pumps.

Fake barf is almost as nasty as real barf, especially after it’s started to go bad.

Actors need lots of reminding, but not as much as directors do.

I hate paraphrasing.

No matter how many line note forms you have, you don’t have enough.

An apple is better than a Coke for keeping you awake, but lasts about an eighth of the time. (Minty gum is good too.)

My nose starts to run as soon as we start working on a really quiet scene.

The first dress rehearsal will always suck.

Live theatre is fun and scary as hell.

Stage managing in a dress may not be practical, but for me it’s necessary.

It’s also necessary to do as much as I can barefoot. Deal with it. (I think it’s a leftover dancer thing.)

Make damn sure you check that Gene's spotlight is off.

Make damn sure you make your cell phone is off.

No matter how tired you get of it, never EVER skip the dimmer check/sound check.

As soon as you go out on the sidewalk to call someone and find out where they are, they'll pull around the corner.

Saying "The Scottish Play" instead of "Macbeth" may seem stupid to you, but the other actors will have your head if you ignore it.

It's MUCH easier to exercise when you're not in rehearsal.

It's much easier to do everything when you're not in rehearsal.

God I miss it.

I Have No Good Title for This Post, Sue Me

You would think from my lack of posts lately that I was horrendously busy. In a way I have been, but nothing fun, I assure you. My world has been full of trying to find a roommate which is it's own kind of hell. Suffice it to say that (fingers crossed, knock on wood, please God) there might be an end in sight.

In between posting on Craig's List and petting my lonely cat, I've been exercising (miracle of miracles) by walking to the theatre for our many play readings, the latest of which was called Mutabilitie. Through a lack of attendance, I was called upon to read the role of Annas, a sweet Irish princess who falls for a licentious Englishman. After fairly little convincing from a character known as "The File," Annas betrays him to his bloody death.

There was also a character named William who kept talking about writing plays and poetry, being a "bard," and the river Avon. And yet, it took me a disgusting period of time to figure out that it was William SHAKESPEARE! Even after he said, "Shall I compare thee to a summer's day..." I STILL didn't get it. I'm losing my touch, obviously.

Coming up on Saturday is The Lieutenant of Inismore which I've been hearing about for years. My entire knowledge of it is that it involves a trained cat, two disembowellings on stage, made Barry fall out of his chair with laughter, and that we've been trying to get the rights for it for years. My morbid curiosity is killing me.

And next Monday? A Streetcar Named Desire, which I'm less than excited about. But since I've never seen nor read it, I'm reserving judgement until I can make an educated decision.

Such is the mayhem of my life.

Endless Summer

Spring has definitely sprung here in the City of Angels. (Crap. What do you mean it's almost June?!) What does that mean? Well, the jacaranda trees are blooming purple, the mock orange trees are exuding their musk, and the jasmine is making the nights fragrant.

It also means that it's getting very close to time for our company picnic, which is at Magic Mountain! The last time I was there I was 17 and I went on the Viper about 5 times in a row. I'm completely stoked, to say the least. The fact that it's free makes it even better! (Maybe I'll get my picture taken with Wakko this time.)

My cousin Amanda is getting married in a week to a very sweet guy who thinks the world of her. We knew they were destined for each other when he bought her Mickey Mouse Croc's for Valentine's Day. Now that's true love.

We've postponed the Banshee show for this summer, so I find myself with an appalling amount of time on my hands. Time to go to the gym or jog around the neighborhood and get rid of my pudgy belly. (Read with a Scottish brogue.) Maybe I'll finish the two cross-stitching projects that I've had in the works for years.

We're having a reading on Monday night for another prospective show for Banshee's upcoming season. One of the critics who loves us best, suggested we give Macbeth a go. (We'll see how many Blackadder jokes come out during the evening. "Hot potato, off with her drawers, Puck will make amends!") I'm hoping not very many women come, so I can read one of the witches. "Something wicked this way comes."

Recently, I found out that one of my favorite books The Killer Angels (read it yet, Ang?) has had a stage adaptation done of it. Needless to say, I got my anxiouus little hands on it in short order and read it immediately. Hopefully, the Banshee's will like it as much as I have.

To a Mouse...

Of Mice & Men is officially closed as of 4:30 this afternoon and, I have to admit, I don't quite know what to do with myself. I thought I was glad for this one to close, but now... I'm not so sure.

We did the show, we went to Timmy Nolan's and ate and drank, and we went back to the theatre and dismantled the set. Ten hours ago when I got to the theatre it was Soledad, CA complete with bunkhouse, barn, and riverbank.Now it's (mostly) a black box with a strange wall in the middle.

I'm in mourning.

I'll miss the prologue. Mike's great lights with Troy's exquisite music. It did so much to set the tone and bring the audience into the world of the play.

I'll miss watching Josh go between Bruce Willis, himself, and Clint Eastwood in his portrayal of Curley.

I'll miss the looks on people's faces as they leave, wiping the tears off their cheeks.

I'll miss the way Mark said, "Whing... ding."

I'll miss the way every time I gave a call (like "ten minutes") Gary would say, "Till what?"

I'll miss Annie's fantastically awesome, old-school movie star hair and the way she "flops her can around."

And I'll miss Sean and Andrew period.

Thank you Steinbeck, thank you Banshee, thank you Auntie. It was a memorable tenth show.

"If we shadows have offended,
think but this and all is mended,
that you have but slumbered here
while these visions did appear.

And as I am an honest Puck,
if we have unearned luck
now to 'scape the serpent's tongue
we will make amends ere long.

Else the Puck a liar call
and so good night unto you all.
Give me your hands if we be friends
and Robin will restore amends."
-A Midsummer Night's Dream(Not Mice, but the sentiment is right.)

Inquiring Young Minds...

Today, we had the first ever "School Matinee" at the Banshee. Two English classes came from a local highschool for a morning of Steinbeck. They snickered at inappropriate moments, dropped brownie crumbs on our floors, and generally were... well, highschool students. But, during the Q&A after the show, they asked some intelligent questions (and some that only Steinbeck could answer from beyond the grave).

Many students have come to see Of Mice & Men, whether it's been for extra credit or because their parents made them, and it seems that all of them have enjoyed themselves immensely. They cringe when the gun is fired, groan when the puppy ends up dead, and occasionally sob at the end. One of them even said, "Oh, shit," one night when Lennie mentioned that his puppy was dead. You've gotta love live theatre.

And after the show's over? They swarm the stage, take pictures on the set, and swoon over the slightly-perplexed actors. This is the first crowd I've seen ask for autographs. Mark was even accosted at the bar one night, when a swarm of adoring girls found him there.

All in all, I couldn't be happier with the interest they've shown. After all, our box office has done better for this show than the last two combined! And what does that mean? It means we get to do another show! Year of the Hiker by John B. Keane is coming up in July. But, we still have two weeks of Mice left, so bring on the students. We've got plenty of brownies left.

Winnie the Pooh and Banshee Too

So, the runner lights have been broken at The Banshee for a year now. And what are "runner lights?" say the poor theatre-deprived plebs out there. Runner lights are the lights on the edge of the stairs that keep you from falling the 20,000 feet from the nosebleed seats to a horrid and bloody death at center stage. In our case, they save you from falling six inches and slightly bruising your ass. A few months ago, we had a general work call to fix a few of the more pathetic eyesores, one of which was the runners. We pulled out the old ones and decided the best way to fix them would be to take one of those long chain lights, drill a hole in the edge of each step, and thread it up, along the edge, down, up to the next step, and so on. With two chains we could fix them all.

Here's the catch. To thread them back up, we'd have to get under the stairs. Being that the Banshee is a converted tile store and not the Royal Albert Hall, it wasn't built with this kind of maintenance in mind. we decided to bang a hole in the box office, behind the fridge, and from there we could crawl underneath and get the job done. Our boys took great delight in smashing a suitable hole. Suitable for them, because there was no way in hell they could fit through it. With studs on two sides, an electrical outlet on one, and the floor on the last, it could only be made so big.

Now to find a spelunker and bribe them to make friends with the spiders. First was Mary, who (like a lunatic) volunteered. She got in up to her ass and got stuck. She wriggled back out and Sean and Andrew looked for their next victim. You could hear the wheels turning in their overly-enthusiastic minds. It should be someone who caves easily when we talk sweetly to her. Someone like... And their heads turned as one to look at me.

Swell. I kept envisioning Alfred Molina in Raiders of the Lost Ark with all those creepy-ass tarantulas crawling all over him. I kneel down, peer into the Pit of Despair and keep going. I can hear Mary and the boys saying encouraging things from behind, but all I can think about is how cool it is that my boobs are getting stuck. I give myself a drywall mammogram and manage to squeeze them through, but I too am stopped by my hips. (I prefer to say "hips" instead of "fat ass.") Naughty words echoed in my head at this point and probably escaped my lips too, but only my arachnid cohorts could hear me.

And so, I shift into reverse and find the hole to be even smaller going in this direction. And now my shirt is caught on the drywall... and now my bra is stuck on my shirt and the drywall... and I vaguely hear Mary shooing the guys out of the box office and closing the door, so I don't flash all of Magnolia Blvd.

And then it hits me how funny this whole thing is and I start to laugh. I'm stuck on my knees, halfway in a half-assed hole, boobs blowing in the wind, shirt in my armpits, plaster all over me, and a show to run in about an hour and a half. I can just picture the handy-dandy Burbank firemen cutting my topless self out of the wall. Still snorting with laughter, I finally manage to get out of the damned hole and get my girls back under wraps.

Covered in plaster and trying not to snicker, I attempt an evil glare at Sean and Andrew and fail miserably. They know I love this stuff.

Next is Josie's turn and she decides to go in backwards, because if my boobs barely fit, hers DEFINITELY won't. She actually makes it in all the way, but then remembers how claustrophobic she is. Oops. I took some pictures of her head sticking out the wall and Sean and Andrew looking on in concern. In deference to Jos, I won't post them.

After she calms down, she turns around only to find that there's nowhere to go. The studs are too close and there's no way in hell our genius plan will work.

And how did it turn out, you ask?

Well, I got all the plaster out of my hair, changed into a fantastic dress, and ran the show without incident, the hole is now covered by the fridge, I've got two boxes of chain lights in my booth, and the runner lights are still broken. I love the theatre!

Extra credit points to those of you who get the Winnie the Pooh reference in the title.

MacGyver Lights

This weekend, I lived my own worst nightmare.

Friday night, I got to the theatre after a very long work day. I was one sleepy girl, but I had a Coke in my bag. Saved again by the pretty red can.

I turned on my dimmer check to make sure all my lights were functioning. They were. I turned them off again and went to mop up the water that had leaked through the roof during our rainstorm. I set my props. I diluted my tar. All was well.

The actors warmed up. I went to turn on the pre-show lights and... it looked weird. Weird and dark. I asked Sean, "Does this look weird?" He agreed that it looked very weird. 2/3rds of my lights weren't on. Ten minutes from curtain and they just don't work.

The adrenaline started to kick in as I was furiously checking plugs, turning things off and back on again, swearing under my breath, trying to call our lighting designer, etc. I wasn't tired anymore.

Nothing worked.

Could we fake it? I'd be the one to do the faking and I wasn't completely convinced that I could pull it off, but as they say, "The show must go on." Particularly when you've got a jam-packed house. With every muscle in my body clenched, I took a deep breath and told Sean I was ready to go.

The audience was extremely friendly and fore-warned about out "technical difficulties" and the show started pretty well. Sean came into the booth and offered to run the work lights to fill in the lights we were missing. It wasn't great, but it wasn't god-awful either.

A couple of the actors didn't even know anything was wrong, but they're the ones that drink before the show. (I'm kidding. Kind of.)

The actors pulled off a truly fantastic performance and we all went out for a really big drink after the show.

Mary, our lighting designer, went in on Saturday to see if she could figure out what was wrong. No dice. She tweaked the few lights that were there and fixed a couple of things that were REALLY wrong. The work lights filled in for us again on Saturday night and our beyond-full house.

The electrician came in yesterday morning and Sean and Mary took a look at the whole thing. A transformer was unplugged. Yup, that's it. Unplugged. One plug.

Thank God it was that simple and all is back to normal.

After Friday's show, one of our patrons complimented me on my MacGyver lights. Hence the title of the post.

Opening Night!

Ah, Opening Night! The night when it finally comes together- lights, sound, costumes, audience, all of it. The press is there. You're hoping you don't screw something up. You're hoping that all the work will pay off and the critics will rave and you'll get good houses and make some money on this one, so you can do the next one....

Such pressure... Oi.

And to relieve the pressure, what do we do? Give awesome presents!

My auntie gave me a Christmas ornament that has my name and glittered holly painted on one side and Loyal Women and blood painted on the other side. (It's funny if you've seen the show and are a little bit twisted like we are.)

Sean and Leslie, our fearless leaders, gave us baby bottles full of whiskey that read "Rathcooler." (The neighborhood the show's set in is Rathcoole.)

And my dear friend Andrew, the one who's been making the fake tatts for us, gave us all Loyal Women tattoos!

Here's me with mine. Looks real, doesn't it?

And as an added present for me, he made a tattoo for himself. I wrote about Dan's "Brenda" tattoo, right. Well, Andrew took one and crossed her name out, and put the rest of the female characters on there and crossed their names out, and... well... just look.

He says it's because it's me that he really loves... Tee hee!

(I apologize for the crappy quality of that photo. I took it with my cell phone. The ONE night I leave my camera at home. Grr!)

So, here's to anothering opening of another show! Merde, baby!

Mayhem at The Banshee!

Wow! What a weekend! The show is open, we had three great shows, a whole bunch of critics, and one of the most insane theatre experiences I've ever had.

So, yesterday, I'm going about my business, setting the 50,000 props for the show. Filling the commode with fake pee and leaving the lid up, wrapping a box of chocolates, making toast, washing the tar pot - you know, usual prop stuff. I trail into the booth to find the barf box (don't ask) and find Sean swearing at the sound board. He had been trying to make the sound work in the lobby, which it hasn't done since Henry IV and it was only sheer luck that we got it to work then, and somehow managed to lose all sound instead. None sound, none music, anywhere.

He managed to get it working again, but then there was this weird feedback coming from the speakers and our sound levels were all wrong. Good to keep me on my toes, not so good to keep me from having a coronary. Crisis, mostly, averted. Whew!

Then during scene four, McKerrin slammed Dan up against the door on the set so she could french kiss him, and the door popped off it's hinges. Well, it tried valiantly to stay attached for a couple of minutes, but then failed and came off completely. I have to say, the actors were awesome at fitting it into the show. Altering lines, altering blocking. It was genius.

At intermission, the boys got it back on the trolley and all was well... Or so I thought.

Dan goes to attack Barry in scene 7, they fall onto the couch, and the leg collapses. I'm in the booth just shaking my head and snickering to myself. Because the situation has now passed pain the ass and crossed into comical.

Despite of all the chaos, it was a REALLY good performance. It brought them out of their heads and made it into a whole new creature. The audience was very complimentary (all eight of them) and hopefully the critic who was there will see past the mayhem to the cream underneath.

Only with live theatre, I'm tellin' you.

Finally...

... a show where my inner Anglophile can come out to play. A play where I can't be teased by the Irishmen for my Union Jack purse, wallet, and pin.

We're thinking the "Usual Banshee Crowd" will be shocked by the protestant-ness of this show, used (as they are) to our traditional Irish fare. Let alone, the mayhem that happens before their eyes.

We gave Dan a couple of tattoos for our final dress rehearsal last night and as we were pulling the paper off of his "FTP" or "Fuck the Pope" tattoo, he mentioned that his good catholic grandmother was undoubtedly rolling over in her grave. As his character's an ex-con, though, he needs a FTP tattoo. Or, so says his friend from Belfast who watched a rehearsal a few days ago to make sure we were doing things properly. He also has a UDA (That's Ulster Defense Association) shield on one bicep and a flaming heart with "Brenda" on the other. Nice. Especially since he strips down to his boxers (or a towel, depending on who wins the debate) you really get to admire his ink. The FTP stretches across the back of his shoulder blades. We're just hoping he doesn't lose the towel in front of his "mom" and the whole Banshee crowd.

Just another night at the Banshee!

Feathers, Feathers Everywhere!

So, I thought getting fake tar off the stage was a pain in the ass.

Add feathers to the mix? Sweet Jesus.

As soon as I'd thought I'd gotten all the tar last night, I'd try to pick up a wad of feathers and find a squishy puddle of tar underneath.

I tried sweeping them, but I believe a shopvac to hoover them all up is a stroke of genius. The loose ones anyway.

Of course, I can bitch and moan about the tar and the barf and the blood and the pee all I want, but Lisa is the one who has to drive home every night with tar and feathers oozing down her neck.

I told her I thought we should both get combat pay for this show. She actually apologized for dripping tar on the floor... She's so sweet.

One more dress rehearsal, one preview tomorrow, and then we'll be open and I'll only have to mop it up three nights a week instead of every night.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to put a call into Bissell.

Technicalities

I lay in bed last night with cues frolicking in my head. We had our tech rehearsal yesterday for Loyal Women, so now there are lights and sound. When I first read it, I thought to myself what a breeze it would be to run. Dude, was I wrong!

Well to a certain extent. It’s just different than what I’ve become accustomed to. Usually, a cue falls on a certain line. A slow fade from full stage to focus on a certain person, something like that. Well, since this play all takes place in an apartment and is pretty realistic, they’re almost entirely visual. Like, someone flipping on a lamp or turning on the TV. It means they have to be very precise, or it looks really stupid.

“Stair light on, room light out as Brenda goes up the stairs, Pause. Stair lights out.”

That’s what I fell asleep to. That and, “Fade volume, pause, skip to next track, volume back up, switch speaker, PLAY.”

That would be the Pain in the Ass Cue. There’s always one. If you’re lucky, there are many. This one comes at the beginning of scene two, if you want to know, and I have to switch between the scene change music (“Joy to the World”) and the audio of the television AS FAST AS HUMANLY POSSIBLE. Although, Sean did offer to meld them into one cue if need be. I was pretty good at it yesterday and will only get faster at it. As tricky cues go, though, this one’s pretty tame.

Remember that cue from Eclipsed? That one was brutal.

A little insight into the technical side of stage managing. And the artistic side? That’s where I get to feel out the perfect timing to fade the lights at the end of a scene, or how slowly to fade the music at the beginning. This is the part that I love most.

Read throughs? A snore. Blocking? Demonic. Line Notes? Sixth Circle of Hell. Dress rehearsals? Getting to the good stuff, finally. Opening? Too stressful, but fun for the partying afterwards. I like the part when I can run the show in my sleep and actually watch the dynamics of what’s playing out in front of me. When I can enjoy the tiny differences between performances. The way different audiences affect what’s happening in front of them. That’s the part that rocks and makes it all worth it.

Here's to number 11!

Random Friday

Did you know that the word "bored" first appeared in Charles Dickens' Bleak House? The phrase "to be a bore" had been used before, but never "bored."

That part in Bleak House when the dude spontaneously combusted from drinking too much gin...? That was a trip. I'm just sayin'.

We had our first experiment with fake tar at rehearsal of Loyal Women last night. I have mentioned that someone gets tarred and feathered at the end of this play, right? OK, just checking. I'm sure Lisa is rueing the day that she accepted this damn role.

Our chemists here at Theatre Banshee made this absolutely evil concoction that looks freakishly like real tar, even if it doesn't smell like it. One of the ingredients is Hershey's syrup. Telling more would put my life in peril.

We dumped it on Lisa's head, finished the last scene and opened the door on the set to find her standing in a puddle of black, viscous goo half sobbing and half laughing. It's going to scare the bejeezus out of the audience, I can tell you that right now. And we don't even have feathers or lights or a finished set yet.

Cleaning it up is going to be a bitch. Do I get combat pay if I get fake tar on my kick-ass peacock blue halter dress?

I still find that I'm not overly comfortable with this play. I've gotten to the point where I can watch it without wanting to vomit, but I'm not sure I'm comfortable with the idea of putting an audience through this emotional turmoil three nights a week. I feel like I should warn them beforehand.

BEWARE!!! This isn't a piece of fluff! Put on your armor, gird your loins and watch out for flying Christmas ornaments!

Hopefully we won't permanently damage anyone's psyche...

We open in a week! Hooray for tech rehearsal!

Loyal Woman? You bet I am!

What's new with Theatre Banshee, Kati? We want to hear all about your latest and greatest stage managing exploits!

Well, OK.

We're in our second week of rehearsal for a play called Loyal Women by Gary Mitchell. It's about a woman living in Belfast and her local branch of the UDA (which is the opposite of the IRA). Brenda's trying to get out of the UDA, but the current leader is retiring and wants Brenda to take her place. She's living with her soon-to-be-ex-husband's mother, her teenage daughter and her infant grandaughter. Dear old mother-in-law is bedridden and not always coherent. Dear daughter is a typical teenage mother and has no desire to take care of her baby. Brenda's husband has recently gotten out of jail after a sixteen year sentence for murdering a man, but it turns out that mom was the murderer and hubby took the fall to protect the daughter. AW! And it's Christmas.

There are definitely some funny parts in this play, but all in all, it's not very happy. There are a number of scuffles on stage, including two women beating the crap out of each other. And at the end, in a blissful expression of the joy of family and holiday, they tar and feather a woman.

Good times.

The first time I read this play, I had this gut-deep visceral aversion to it and wasn't sure I'd be able to finish reading it at all. I determined that living in this world for six weeks of rehearsal and six weeks of shows would be tantamount to torture. I expressed my opinions at our company meeting and told my comrades that if it was chosen, I WOULD NOT stage manage it. I was very emphatic and shocked a number of people. My mom was so proud.

So, how long did I last? Did it take them years and years of cojoling and bribing to turn me around? Pssh, how little you know them.

It took them eight days. Yeah, I'm that strong. Eight freakin' days. My auntie pleaded and tried to use the concept of "blood" to talk me into it. I was still determined to hold out against her. So, what did it? Sean, our director, cornered me and asked what it would take to get me to do it. I thought, "Damn it!" I knew that if he asked, I was a goner. He also told me that he had the same reaction I did, when he first read it, and that he was going to do his best to bring out the twisted humor of it and make it a more enjoyable experience. It's a good thing I trust him as much as I do.

I thought about it thoroughly before I caved, though. I wanted to make damn sure that I really was happy with my decision. I remembered that I'd wanted to take a break for Power, but changed my mind on that one too. And I was SO happy to be involved in it. I also came up with a plan to make sure the craziness of Loyal Women didn't drag me down with it.

My apartment has been spotlessly clean for about a month and I can't even begin to tell you how it feels to come home to such a pleasant environment. I've been doing my best to only eat tasty stuff that's really good for me too. And lots of happy food, like salmon. (Thank God for Trader Joe's!) I've been working out with my Auntie. (Good for the body and the spirit.)

And I realized why it effected me so profoundly. When I read a story, I get sucked into it- hook, line, and sinker. I become the characters, I fall in love with them, I live the story, I feel the world. When it's something like, I don't know, Harry Potter or The DaVinci Code, that's one thing. When someone is TARRED AND FEATHERED?!?! I'm going to take that pretty hard. So, every time we get to that part, I just have to step back from it momentarily and remind myself that it's illusion.

I'm also working with a brilliant and loving bunch, who are well aware of the effect it's having on them too. We keep checking in with each other, making sure everyone's coping. It'll be hard work, but I'm sure well worth it. From what I've seen already, we've got something amazing on our hands here.

*A little tangent*: Banshee has finally gotten a nomination for an Ovation Award! It's taken us 12 years, but Matt Foyer was nominated for his role as Nicholas Fouquet in Power! You rock, Matty!

A Panic Attack of Stage Managerial Proportions

I have a plethora of stage managing stories and have heard many, many more. This one takes the cake, I think. It's one that you wouldn't want to have as a nightmare and really wouldn't want to live through. But, I did.

It was a Friday night during Power. There's a man that teaches classes in the space a few times during the week, including Friday morning. He has a "special" light that he turns on himself for the classes. Usually, I'm the first one into the building and have to turn all the lights on. On this particular, fateful day, may auntie had been cleaning so the lights were already on when I got there. I thought nothing of it and went about getting ready for the show.

After the curtain speech, I hit the mouse button to cue the blackout. But, it didn't go to black, because Gene's light was still on! And it was plugged into an outlet DOWN BY THE STAGE!

Somewhere in my head was the idea that it was also somehow plugged in in the booth. So, I start unplugging things. This may have been a good idea, but wasn't. I ended up unplugging my computer that controls the lights. So, by this time, the actors are playing out the first scene in Gene's light and I can't turn on any others for them, because I, as I said, unplugged the computer.

Sigh.

By this time, Leslie has come into the booth to ask me what the hell's going on and I've grumbled out something about Gene's light as I'm furiously plugging things back in.

She says she'll go unplug it, but realizes she can't until my computer has booted back up, because then the actors would be in the pitch dark.

FINALLY, the computer is back up and running and I bring up a light cue for the end of the scene. Do I bring up the right one? Of course not! In my anxiety to get SOME light, ANY light back on, I've brought up the wrong damned cue.

As the scene comes to an end, I kick it over to the proper scene change lights and Leslie rushes down to unplug Gene's special.

And Kati spends the next three hours bringing her breathing back to normal and wiping the sweat stains off of every surface in the booth.

You can bet every penny you own that I checked that light every night after that.

And will until I die. Sheesh.