a little more regular
Okay, now that I got that wacky post out of my system, I am trying to beat my flyaway brain and post something tangible. Despite the heavy haze, I have a feeling I'm going to need to remember this period of time. It seems significant.
So "Hair" opened and "Hair" closed. Without a doubt the most difficult mounting of a show I've ever experienced, because of the scale, and because for the first time ever, really, the buck stopped here. So every major problem came down to me. Which was incredible, and I learned so much so fast, which contributed heavily to my shellshockyness right now. But before you get the idea that I'm bitching, I had a LOT of help. My nearest and dearest were all sewing and shopping and sorting and light hanging and fuckin' a did that show take a village. It took our village. And we got it done.
We got it so done, people we didn't even know came back all three nights. Tom O'Horgan came and saw the show, and Jim came three times. Even though there were of course parts that could have used some polish, I never EVER expected the quality level of our show to be so high. Thursday night, the band was in such shambles that our limited audience left, and then I left at the end of the first act because I was so appalled and upset. That night Sessoms, Kingston and Man went for food after we'd shut NP down, and I passed out in Man's lap, right in the booth. I listened a little as they talked about how to fix it. I was thinking about pulling the plug.
And then wham bam. Awoke in the morning, and Man let me flip the fuck out, and sit on my couch paralyzed and crying and sure we were going to be a tremendous failure. Then we headed to the theatre and got down to business. Like ya do. Throw a little tantrum, then realize that a lot of people are there not only counting on you, but HELPING you, and you buckle down, fire the bassist, and call a goddamn piano tuner. And then run around and paint Apache, and realize that everyone pretty much fuckin' rocks, and when curtain time comes, the audience overflows into the aisle, sitting on the floor.
The Real Theatre Company is rolling. We even got our first review:
"And as for HAIR, I saw this weekend long non-Equity revival at the
Neighborhood Playhouse on 54th Street, where I had never been before.
The cast was made up primarily of Neighborhood Playhouse students and
alumni. Since they did not cut a single number from the score - they
even did "Dead End" and "The Bed" - it ran three hours. Luckily, it
was a very good production. And the more I think about it, it was
eerily authentic. Why? Because HAIR is not meant to be a polished
show. It's supposed to be a happening, an Off-Off-Broadway piece of
alternative theater, though once on Broadway. Here was a production in
a small intimate space, where most of the cast was not vocally
outstanding, but totally committed physically and dramatically. It is
this kind of authenticity that professional concert productions of
HAIR - Actors Fund, Encores - all lack."
-Matt Windman AM NY
Yay!
So "Hair" opened and "Hair" closed. Without a doubt the most difficult mounting of a show I've ever experienced, because of the scale, and because for the first time ever, really, the buck stopped here. So every major problem came down to me. Which was incredible, and I learned so much so fast, which contributed heavily to my shellshockyness right now. But before you get the idea that I'm bitching, I had a LOT of help. My nearest and dearest were all sewing and shopping and sorting and light hanging and fuckin' a did that show take a village. It took our village. And we got it done.
We got it so done, people we didn't even know came back all three nights. Tom O'Horgan came and saw the show, and Jim came three times. Even though there were of course parts that could have used some polish, I never EVER expected the quality level of our show to be so high. Thursday night, the band was in such shambles that our limited audience left, and then I left at the end of the first act because I was so appalled and upset. That night Sessoms, Kingston and Man went for food after we'd shut NP down, and I passed out in Man's lap, right in the booth. I listened a little as they talked about how to fix it. I was thinking about pulling the plug.
And then wham bam. Awoke in the morning, and Man let me flip the fuck out, and sit on my couch paralyzed and crying and sure we were going to be a tremendous failure. Then we headed to the theatre and got down to business. Like ya do. Throw a little tantrum, then realize that a lot of people are there not only counting on you, but HELPING you, and you buckle down, fire the bassist, and call a goddamn piano tuner. And then run around and paint Apache, and realize that everyone pretty much fuckin' rocks, and when curtain time comes, the audience overflows into the aisle, sitting on the floor.
The Real Theatre Company is rolling. We even got our first review:
"And as for HAIR, I saw this weekend long non-Equity revival at the
Neighborhood Playhouse on 54th Street, where I had never been before.
The cast was made up primarily of Neighborhood Playhouse students and
alumni. Since they did not cut a single number from the score - they
even did "Dead End" and "The Bed" - it ran three hours. Luckily, it
was a very good production. And the more I think about it, it was
eerily authentic. Why? Because HAIR is not meant to be a polished
show. It's supposed to be a happening, an Off-Off-Broadway piece of
alternative theater, though once on Broadway. Here was a production in
a small intimate space, where most of the cast was not vocally
outstanding, but totally committed physically and dramatically. It is
this kind of authenticity that professional concert productions of
HAIR - Actors Fund, Encores - all lack."
-Matt Windman AM NY
Yay!
posted by Maggie Moon at
4:51 PM
1 Comments
