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I stink at keeping secrets. Let me clarify. If you confide in me, your secret is safe. No worries. But if I have exciting news, and I'm not supposed to share it, I feel like SNL's Sue, prepping for a surprise party.
So you can imagine how hard it was when I was asked to direct Les Misérables for SCERA MONTHS ago and asked to keep it a secret because MTI (the licensing company) put a restriction on it. I think the restriction was a little ridiculous, because MTI listed our production on their own website. Why is it not okay for us to advertise it, but fine for them?
I used birthday money and gift cards to buy all kinds of books for researching. Did you know that they make board books of Les Mis for kids? Lucy loves hers.
As much as I've been researching, I've been making discoveries that I've been dying to share. I've been watching movie versions. (But not THE movie version, because we save that for punishment purposes in our house. "You were caught lying, so now you have to hear Russell Crowe singing." That kind of thing.) I've learned more about the characters than I ever thought possible. I designed the set, with great help/input from Nat Reed and my amazing stage manager, Crysta Powell. I've been researching the actual true events that inspired the story, as well as French architecture, and the actual street where the barricade would have been built.
I've learned so much and haven't been able to share it until now. Phew! I've never wanted it to be May so fast.
Tonight is the final night of auditions, and it's going to be insane. The rumor got out months ago (it was actually a fun game trying to trace the origins - surprising how connected this community theatre world is), which turned out to be a good thing, because the first two nights of auditions were great - despite people not being absolutely sure what show they were auditioning for.
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That's where the original post ended.
The final night of auditions was INSANE. We were auditioning all night long. When all was said and done, it was probably not the highest number of auditioners I've ever had, but the overall quality was much higher than usual.
Callbacks were intense. I was at the theatre the entire day that Saturday. The show mostly cast itself. There were a few people that could have been used for multiple roles, but I'm happy with where they ended up. We cast around 80 people, expecting to lose around 10. By the time the show had opened, the cast was about 73 people.
I loved this cast. I still do. Overall, it was the greatest group of people I've ever directed. There was much love and friendship. There was respect and support. Out of 70+ people, there was only ONE person by the end who I was genuinely ready to kill. One, rotten, stinking apple who was made to look even worse by all the people who were amazing. (Shall we call him Johnny Applestink?) One weed in a beautiful garden. He refused to learn his lyrics/melodies, he put down other cast members, he complained about having to come to rehearsal, he complained about having to get notes, he complained about everything, really. When the show started, my goal was to focus on love, since that's what the story is about. When Johnny started causing problems, that shifted a little. When I realized that he was never going to learn his part and do what I asked, I switched gears and started asking the cast to focus constantly on what they would do for others. The outcome was more than I ever could have hoped. The love among the cast grew even more, and it was amazing to watch them all forget about their own needs and focus on others. Unfortunately, Johnny never fixed anything, but by having everyone around him focus on how to help, they covered for the fact that he never knew his lyrics/blocking by closing night. As much as I dislike reviews, I loved the fact that the reviewers pointed out how strong the ensemble was. It was amazing to have them all receive recognition, and I truly understood why some directors refer to themselves as "proud parents." I wanted these people to succeed, and they did; and it was beautiful.
By the time the show closed, I felt like I had gained a family more than I had with any other show I've ever done. I really hope I get to work with these people again. Well, all but Johnny… Some of them have expressed interest in A Christmas Story, so I'm hoping they audition and there are roles for them. They've ruined me, and I don't know that I'll ever have such a great cast again.
The show itself was pretty good. It honestly wasn't the best thing I've ever done, which makes me feel like I let myself down, but it was good. I treated it as a grand opera and put the focus on the singing/acting rather than movement, and it was blocked as such. The singing was great. The set turned out beautifully. The lighting was amazing. The costumes were nearly perfect. It was well-received.
As I get older, and I feel the need to spend more time with my family, I don't feel the need/desire to be doing as many shows. I'm much more picky about how I choose to use my time now. Therefore, when I do a show, it HAS to be a great experience, or else I finish it and think "Why am I doing this?!" Les Mis was definitely an experience for which I'm grateful. I learned a lot. Even Johnny taught me things. God bless him.
On to Christmas!
***
That's where the original post ended.
The final night of auditions was INSANE. We were auditioning all night long. When all was said and done, it was probably not the highest number of auditioners I've ever had, but the overall quality was much higher than usual.
Callbacks were intense. I was at the theatre the entire day that Saturday. The show mostly cast itself. There were a few people that could have been used for multiple roles, but I'm happy with where they ended up. We cast around 80 people, expecting to lose around 10. By the time the show had opened, the cast was about 73 people.
I loved this cast. I still do. Overall, it was the greatest group of people I've ever directed. There was much love and friendship. There was respect and support. Out of 70+ people, there was only ONE person by the end who I was genuinely ready to kill. One, rotten, stinking apple who was made to look even worse by all the people who were amazing. (Shall we call him Johnny Applestink?) One weed in a beautiful garden. He refused to learn his lyrics/melodies, he put down other cast members, he complained about having to come to rehearsal, he complained about having to get notes, he complained about everything, really. When the show started, my goal was to focus on love, since that's what the story is about. When Johnny started causing problems, that shifted a little. When I realized that he was never going to learn his part and do what I asked, I switched gears and started asking the cast to focus constantly on what they would do for others. The outcome was more than I ever could have hoped. The love among the cast grew even more, and it was amazing to watch them all forget about their own needs and focus on others. Unfortunately, Johnny never fixed anything, but by having everyone around him focus on how to help, they covered for the fact that he never knew his lyrics/blocking by closing night. As much as I dislike reviews, I loved the fact that the reviewers pointed out how strong the ensemble was. It was amazing to have them all receive recognition, and I truly understood why some directors refer to themselves as "proud parents." I wanted these people to succeed, and they did; and it was beautiful.
By the time the show closed, I felt like I had gained a family more than I had with any other show I've ever done. I really hope I get to work with these people again. Well, all but Johnny… Some of them have expressed interest in A Christmas Story, so I'm hoping they audition and there are roles for them. They've ruined me, and I don't know that I'll ever have such a great cast again.
The show itself was pretty good. It honestly wasn't the best thing I've ever done, which makes me feel like I let myself down, but it was good. I treated it as a grand opera and put the focus on the singing/acting rather than movement, and it was blocked as such. The singing was great. The set turned out beautifully. The lighting was amazing. The costumes were nearly perfect. It was well-received.
As I get older, and I feel the need to spend more time with my family, I don't feel the need/desire to be doing as many shows. I'm much more picky about how I choose to use my time now. Therefore, when I do a show, it HAS to be a great experience, or else I finish it and think "Why am I doing this?!" Les Mis was definitely an experience for which I'm grateful. I learned a lot. Even Johnny taught me things. God bless him.
On to Christmas!
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