Alice Through the Subway System Premiere
Well. That was just...amazing!
Oddly enough, although relieved to not be so busy, I mostly feel vaguely sad that it's all over and done with. I should feel enormously accomplished - we were turning away people at the door, and cramming those that got in into every crevice of that tiny little lounge. By the time I went to call places, I had to pick my way through a sea of bodies - many of which were nestled together in clumps, sitting on the floor. Athen, my amazing bouncer, found a way to get all the parents into proper chairs, and all the necessary friends and fam in the door, calling to me:
"Hey Mag. This list you gave me! Has nothing to do with what's going on! That cool?"
I called back to him: "Chuck it!"
He grinned and threw it in the trash, weeding through the crowd and doing hands-on audience organization.
-----------
But let's take it back a bit, shall we?
4:45 PM: Maggie Moon's Apartment. I have the Dormouse, Daisy D., the Cheshire Rat (otherwise known as The Beaux), MC Hare, & Alice gathered in my apartment. Everyone is on the floor, painting last minute subway signs for our "set," and I am shoving faux flowers into Daisy's hair. Mama Moon calls - she is supposed to chaffeur us down to the venue right about...now. She's just gotten out of the shower. I take a deep breath and control the volcano I can feel in my gut ("WE'RE GONNA BE LATE!") and start delegating. I send the whole crew, minus the Rat, down on the F train. Get there, pick up the stuff, and get ready.
5:00 PM: Parking Garage. The Rat, my younger sister and I stand by the elevators. We have assorted costumes and items for the show in our hands. I place a large pasta pot (a prop) filled with my heels for later, and a clip light, on top of a phone booth. Mama Moon arrives and we split for car. I forget aforementioned pot.
5:30 PM: Second Avenue. We are in traffic, nowhere near the East Village. Rat and I bid goodbye to Mama Moon and younger sister, then leap from the SUV to the 6 train and book it downtown. On the train Rat looks at my curiously serene face and asks me what's up. I'm not going to freak out. Because once I freak, I'll just spiral into extreme freakage.
6:00 PM: We arrive at the venue at the same time as the SUV. Oops.
7:00 PM: We have dug the clock prop from underneath the stage. We have rehung lights that the idiot manager of the venue took down after our dress rehearsal. The Garden Girls are made up, and the animals are in progress. Everyone is costumed and it's already hot in the room. Audience begins arriving and I realize how amazingly well promoted this show is - major props to Tigerlily, who, after years of only wanting to act...now seems to want to promote shows for a living as well.
7:30 PM: The place is jammin'. My friend Frankie, of Frankie and His Fingers, shows up and gives me the biggest hug. "Are you so excited?" I screech back something like a yes. Every time I cross the path of the stage to change the song that's playing, someone cheers. I run backstage to check on my cast. They are jamming out to their iPods, practicing dances, getting pumped. Anna Rexia, the notorious club debutante, otherwise known as My Costume Designer Since Forever is doing final touches on the White Rabbit, who is weeping slightly from his eyeliner experience. "Donde la cocaine?" (pronounced "co-kai-een-a"), he says to me, for the 30th time. I produce a vial filled with Bisquik - his prop cocaine that he inadvisably really snorts during the performance. I hug my brother - MC Hare - and everyone, with a special hug for the Mad Rapper (who gives me that tweaky grin that makes him the ladies man that he is), and a kiss for my Cheshire Beaux.
8:15 PM: I stand in the sound area - it's definitely not a booth, just a corner of the stage. I survey the audience. I would say I recognize about a quarter of those present. I have shifted a few people I know out of seats, and onto floorspace. I have crammed the Beaux's Jersey pals practically on the stage so he can make special faces at them, should he so desire. I have greeted all manner of friends and neighbors, and people I recognize from myspace (horrors). I do one more sweep into the crammed storage room we're calling a dressing room: This is places. Watch for lights. I love you guys!
I run up to the stage and take a stance. In my boots and tiny skirt, I feel powerful as hell.
I begin my opening announcement.
I nod to Beth Lipton, my theatrical mentor, who's sitting crouched in the corner in order to 'run the lights'...running on extension cords and plugs, but no board. This is Real Theater, alright! Really Making Do in a Really Tiny Space. But there's mad love in this room and I am mad psyched...
The lights dim. I hit play. And they go. And they go go go. The beauty of directing is just like the beauty of parenting and gardening. You put work and love and wisdom and wildness into this thing, this creation and then it grows into something quite unexpected. And drop dead gorgeous.
More later.
Oddly enough, although relieved to not be so busy, I mostly feel vaguely sad that it's all over and done with. I should feel enormously accomplished - we were turning away people at the door, and cramming those that got in into every crevice of that tiny little lounge. By the time I went to call places, I had to pick my way through a sea of bodies - many of which were nestled together in clumps, sitting on the floor. Athen, my amazing bouncer, found a way to get all the parents into proper chairs, and all the necessary friends and fam in the door, calling to me:
"Hey Mag. This list you gave me! Has nothing to do with what's going on! That cool?"
I called back to him: "Chuck it!"
He grinned and threw it in the trash, weeding through the crowd and doing hands-on audience organization.
-----------
But let's take it back a bit, shall we?
4:45 PM: Maggie Moon's Apartment. I have the Dormouse, Daisy D., the Cheshire Rat (otherwise known as The Beaux), MC Hare, & Alice gathered in my apartment. Everyone is on the floor, painting last minute subway signs for our "set," and I am shoving faux flowers into Daisy's hair. Mama Moon calls - she is supposed to chaffeur us down to the venue right about...now. She's just gotten out of the shower. I take a deep breath and control the volcano I can feel in my gut ("WE'RE GONNA BE LATE!") and start delegating. I send the whole crew, minus the Rat, down on the F train. Get there, pick up the stuff, and get ready.
5:00 PM: Parking Garage. The Rat, my younger sister and I stand by the elevators. We have assorted costumes and items for the show in our hands. I place a large pasta pot (a prop) filled with my heels for later, and a clip light, on top of a phone booth. Mama Moon arrives and we split for car. I forget aforementioned pot.
5:30 PM: Second Avenue. We are in traffic, nowhere near the East Village. Rat and I bid goodbye to Mama Moon and younger sister, then leap from the SUV to the 6 train and book it downtown. On the train Rat looks at my curiously serene face and asks me what's up. I'm not going to freak out. Because once I freak, I'll just spiral into extreme freakage.
6:00 PM: We arrive at the venue at the same time as the SUV. Oops.
7:00 PM: We have dug the clock prop from underneath the stage. We have rehung lights that the idiot manager of the venue took down after our dress rehearsal. The Garden Girls are made up, and the animals are in progress. Everyone is costumed and it's already hot in the room. Audience begins arriving and I realize how amazingly well promoted this show is - major props to Tigerlily, who, after years of only wanting to act...now seems to want to promote shows for a living as well.
7:30 PM: The place is jammin'. My friend Frankie, of Frankie and His Fingers, shows up and gives me the biggest hug. "Are you so excited?" I screech back something like a yes. Every time I cross the path of the stage to change the song that's playing, someone cheers. I run backstage to check on my cast. They are jamming out to their iPods, practicing dances, getting pumped. Anna Rexia, the notorious club debutante, otherwise known as My Costume Designer Since Forever is doing final touches on the White Rabbit, who is weeping slightly from his eyeliner experience. "Donde la cocaine?" (pronounced "co-kai-een-a"), he says to me, for the 30th time. I produce a vial filled with Bisquik - his prop cocaine that he inadvisably really snorts during the performance. I hug my brother - MC Hare - and everyone, with a special hug for the Mad Rapper (who gives me that tweaky grin that makes him the ladies man that he is), and a kiss for my Cheshire Beaux.
8:15 PM: I stand in the sound area - it's definitely not a booth, just a corner of the stage. I survey the audience. I would say I recognize about a quarter of those present. I have shifted a few people I know out of seats, and onto floorspace. I have crammed the Beaux's Jersey pals practically on the stage so he can make special faces at them, should he so desire. I have greeted all manner of friends and neighbors, and people I recognize from myspace (horrors). I do one more sweep into the crammed storage room we're calling a dressing room: This is places. Watch for lights. I love you guys!
I run up to the stage and take a stance. In my boots and tiny skirt, I feel powerful as hell.
I begin my opening announcement.
I nod to Beth Lipton, my theatrical mentor, who's sitting crouched in the corner in order to 'run the lights'...running on extension cords and plugs, but no board. This is Real Theater, alright! Really Making Do in a Really Tiny Space. But there's mad love in this room and I am mad psyched...
The lights dim. I hit play. And they go. And they go go go. The beauty of directing is just like the beauty of parenting and gardening. You put work and love and wisdom and wildness into this thing, this creation and then it grows into something quite unexpected. And drop dead gorgeous.
More later.
posted by Maggie Moon at
8:32 AM
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