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!

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?

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.

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.)

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.

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!

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 New Title

I'm now officially known as the "strange manager" instead of the "stage manager," due to a typing brain-fart in an e-mail.

I actually kind of like it.

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.

A Decade's Worth

Yesterday, the metaphorical curtain came down on my tenth show that I've stage managed. I'm ridiculously pleased with myself over it too.

So, here's a look back at all ten.

1. An Orchesis modern dance concert in college. A landmark because it was the first. They picked me for this one, because I was dancer for so long and claimed to know how their minds work. This is usually true, except for the crazy woman who directed this concert. She called me a dip-shit in a production meeting and was the first director to make me cry. I'm amazed that this was a good enough experience that I agreed to do...

2. Our Country's Good. Also for my stage managing class in college, but not for credit. Their SM fell through and I agreed to do it out of the goodness of my heart. Mum always told me to make my living in life by doing something that I'd be happy to do for free. An excellent play about a convict colony in Australia that decides to put on a play. Irony. I love it. Directed by a slightly more stable woman who only made my cry once, instead of multiple times.

3. The pieces that came before are really only important because they led to this one. What the Butler Saw was my first show in LA and my first show for Banshee. A British farce by Joe Orton about a pychiatrist who's unhappy in his marriage and tries to seduce his new secretary. Through a series of hysterical circumstances, almost the entire cast ends up in their underwear. And note that Sean, the director, didn't make me cry once. Nor has he since.

Favorite quote: "Your actions today would get the Archbishop of Canterbury declared non compos."
"I'm not the Archbishop of Canterbury!"
"No, that will come at a later stage of your illness."

4. The Man from Clare is a beautiful play by John B. Keane. One of the few Irish plays that actually has a happy ending. Aging football player has to face the facts and give way to the young buck who's trying to replace him. Falls in love with local homely girl and enchants her family. One of my favorites. I thought I was OK with this one closing until I got in my car to drive home and sobbed all the way. I look forward to doing another of his plays next spring.

Favorite quote: "Thank God for all things wet!"

5. The Hunt for Red Willie was an interesting experience. It didn't bring in the crowds that we needed/wanted it to. Also a farce about poitin makers (that's Irish moonshine, by the way) running about the countryside and a mask with a bizarre influence over those who wear it. We were all glad to see this one close. And yet, we still talk to audience members who say it was their favorite.

6. Mine Eyes Hath Seen has been my favorite out of all the shows I've done. A compilation of journal entries and letters from the Civil War. Amazing because of all the people who came out afterwards saying, "I had no idea!" Gives you a whole new perspective on the people who fought, why they fought, and how they survived (or didn't) during the war. I was very sad to see this one go and started crying even before curtain call started.

Favorite quote: "... gladly would I wash out with my tears, every little stain upon your happiness."

*There was another show that I started to stage manage in this gap, but it was such a hellish experience that I prefer to just ignore the fact that it happened at all. It involved a sociopath director, sobbing, big-ass snakes, too much caffeine, more sobbing, a blatant diregard for equity rules, a ladder, me falling off said ladder, a chiropractor, even more sobbing, a call to my aunt in North Carolina, a resignation 2 days before we opened, a number of hideous reviews, and much rejoicing at being back in the arms of Banshee. I'll leave it at that.*

7. Eclipsed was an intense play about the unwed mothers in the Magdalene laundries in Ireland. The story of a few of them and how they came to be where they are. And their fondness for Elvis. Remember what I said about Irish plays and happy endings...? There was a lot of drinking during this one.

Favorite quote: "The keys, sister! Give us the keys!"

8. Next came Dockers by Martin Lynch. A tale of dock workers in Northern Ireland and their fight against a corrupt union. Ditto about the happy ending. This one was a milestone because it was the first show in our own theatre.

Favorite quote: "Whatever you like now, Sarah. It's all the same to me."

9. Another milestone! First Shakespeare. Henry IV, Part 1 was a pile of fun and very daunting with a cast of 18 and a broadsword battle with 16! And on a stage that's the size of a postage stamp.

Favorite quote: "Jack, how agrees the devil and thee about thy soul that thou soldest him on Good Friday last for a cup of madeira and a cold capon's leg?"

And, last but not least...

10. Power by Nick Dear. Louis XIV and all that jazz. Nicholas Fouquet and his machinations. Building Versailles, imprisonment, adultery, fashion, more adultery, and of course apricots. McKerrin was a great director and, also, didn't make me cry. To think that I was going to take a break for this show... Pssh! I'm OK with this one ending because I really need to clean my apartment and go to the grocery store.

Favorite quote: "As for the clergy, they will suffer for their idiotic celibacy."

(Why is it that now while I write this, I can't remember the best quotes...? Maybe I'll have to go back and check my scripts for better ones.)

What comes next, you ask? If I tell you now, then I won't have anything to blog about in the next months. You'll have to keep reading... Just know that it took coercion, bribery, and much cajoling to talk me into the next one. It's a real upper! Ooh, you can feel the sarcasm oozing through the screen, can't you? My loins are girded, so to speak. And not in a fun way.

God, I love live theatre!

And Yet...

I feel the need to post a slight addendum to my recent writings on the lack of awards for stage managers. At the Backstage West Garland Awards last night, I may not have been there to receive an award, and yet when the people I met heard I was a stage manager (and even more specifically, Theatre Banshee's stage manager) every single one of them expressed their admiration.

"Oh, that's such a hard job!"
"It's so hard to find a good stage manager!"
"Do you want to stage manage for MY company?! PLEASE?!"
"You did a really good job on (insert title here)! It was so smooth!"

Even the bartender was suitably impressed. And my dear friends, every time they introduced me to this director or that producer, they always introduced me as "Banshee's stage manager extraordinaire." Completely independent of each other.

I may not have gotten a certificate or a plaque last night, but I definitely got the vindication I was missing last week.

A SM's Real World

I am lovingly cocooned in my little stage managing world. Protected and buffered from the outside world by my lovely Banshees, but I got a dose of what it's really like for stage managers this week.

My fabulous theatre company had two productions last year and BOTH have won Backstage West Garland Awards for Best Ensemble. The reception for the winners is invitation only. I stage managed both of them, worked my ass off for both of them. Did I get an invitation to help my friends and colleagues celebrate in their time of glory? No. I kept thinking, "Surely, they'll include me!" But other people got their invites and my mailbox was empty. I have to say my heart broke just the tiniest bit when I realized I wasn't getting one.

My fellow Banshees know I was part of the ensemble. An extra penitent in the Magdalene laundries during Eclipsed and an extra docker slinging heaves in Dockers. An integral part of each show. I was at every rehearsal, every show, set all the props (stinky laundry and fake booze galore), ran the lights and the sound... You can tell I'm more than a little frustrated. The actors/director are always blissfully appreciative of the work I put in. The cast of Eclipsed even bought me a facial at a local spa after the show closed. But, not everyone is as classy as Banshee.

Fortunately, everyone who was invited gets to bring a "guest." So, I do get to go (I'll try not to be bitter), instead of sitting at home brooding in my pajamas, while eating chocolate ice cream out of the carton and watching bad re-runs.

I looked on the internet this morning and I can find a few measly awards for student SM's, but bupkiss for those of us in the "real world." No Garland Awards, no Ovation Awards, and certainly no Tony Awards. Designers? Bet your ass? Directors, producers, composers, actors? Of course, it goes without saying! If someone out there knows why SM's are so egregiously over-looked, please let me know.

Well, for myself and the other stage managers out there, who work our asses off and you know we've done a good job because they DON'T mention us in the reviews, know that we don't begrudge the actors their moment in the sun, just let us be there to lift a glass as well.