Riggy, I Can't See You!

Rigoletto was back at the Portland Opera for their final production of the ’08-’09 season. Or as some of us say, “welcome home, Riggy!” Why? Because returning to perform the title role was Mark Rucker who sang in the previous production of Rigoletto in 1998. I must say I was very proud to be a part of the opera chorus at that time and singing with one of the world’s premier Verdi Baritones is not something that another baritone takes lightly. In ’98 I was able to observe Mark in every aspect of his character integration with the show. I say ‘integration’ rather than ‘development’ because Mr. Rucker had performed the role countless times even then. I’m sure he’s got a few dozen more under his belt in the last 11 years. But watching him work behind the scenes was amazing from the first music rehearsal to just before the final curtain when he cries in agony over losing his precious daughter, Gilda. Well, cut 11 years and I’m now in the audience ready to enjoy Rigoletto from an audience perspective on a $20 ticket (thanks to PO’s new policy of “padding the house” on certain days and sections). One thing I will say about this new production is that it was not well lit. After performing a number of operas where the lighting designer throws lights from all angles from the rafters, downstage, and offstage left and right, (and becoming near blinded in the process) this show had minimal lighting. Unfortunately, the beautiful, multi-functional 2-level set was drenched in darkness, and all the wonderful colorful costumes were just so-so in the drisly trickle of illumination. So I say to the lighting designer, "may a thousand points of light sting your eyeballs so you can know what light looks like!" The sound, however, was astounding! Rucker…yo, what can I say? He’s da BOMB! But one thing that stood out this time around was the last scene. Remember in "Godfather III" when Michael Corleone is on the steps of the opera house after his daughter was shot, and he gave that looooong silent scream, then suddenly inhales and wails in dispair? Rucker's wail was like that. Chilling to the bone and heartbreaking. And Gilda, sung by Sarah Coburn, brought the house down with her “Caro nome”. I’m not usually a big fan of twittery coloraturas, but Coburn made me swoon. Peter Volpe was Sparafucile and if there ever was a bass that I want to be when I grow up, it is Mr. Volpe. My favorite memory of the show is in Act II when Sparafucile tells Riggy that he’ll be at the same place every night if he needs him, and walks offstage singing a low F – still resonating in the back of the house! Gotta love a great bass! But by far I am most proud of the men’s chorus. The men’s chorus in Riggy is tough. I mean machine gun, ratta-tat-tat type of patter singing that is not easy to coordinate with 20 men, a 40 piece orchestra, and a baton. But the men were DEAD SOLID PERFECT! I have never, even in recordings, heard the chorus so spot on. Brilliantly sung. Bravo, men! Now the season is closed and we look forward to yet another production of La Boheme in September. I think it’s the 4th time in 15 years that they’ve done this show. Hmmm…must be a moneymaker. I’ll be looking for my $20 tic for this as well.

And the Dead Shall Rise

Were you see Les Mis last night? Were you there? Did you see it? It was stunning and beautiful, cast with talented actors and singers. And if you were there for Saturday's performance you heard what sounded like a set piece dropped after we all died on the barricade. But it wasn't a set piece. No, it was a body. My body. In an attempt to sneak blindly offstage from my dying position on the rotating platform, I stumbled upon a box and tripped head over heels, landing headfirst half on and half off the platform. As I felt the stage still moving against my face I realized I was not moving with it, and while I was prone upon the floor I also realized that the big barricade set piece was still moving -- right at my head. I was about to be headbutted right off the stage if I didn't do something quick. So I did what any reasonable and savvy actor would do on a pitch black stage awaiting certain head injury -- I think I said, "oh shit!" I don't remember how loud. Hopefully it was only heard by the stage crew watching helplessly offstage right. Using reflexes like a lynx, er, maybe they were more like a drunken sailor on a moving dock, I rolled off the platform avoiding my demise. I had a flash in my mind that when I rolled I would take about ten of my mates out like a bowling ball in the darkness. By some stroke of luck, or perhaps we were blest by the stage gods, I avoided a bowling lane syndrome and my fellow actors were spared. (oh, I just got the pun!) So today I proudly display my war wounds; a scratched and bruised shin, a swollen thigh the color of the deep dark sea, and a nice stiff neck. Should be an interesting matinee today. Hopefully I can even out the bruises on the left side of my body.

Broken Chairs & Broken Platforms

Hell week. Day three. Dress rehearsal on top of another tech practice. Complete bedlam backstage and in the dressing rooms. "Where's my corset?" "Do I wear this on our head?" "Five minutes to places, everybody. Five minutes." "Five minutes? I don't even have my underwear on yet!" "Do these pants make me look fat?" "No, but you sure got a bad case of camel toe happening there, dude!" As you can see, the real entertainment happens backstage, people. You pay for the magic onstage, but the best seats are backstage where all the drama really happens. Tonight our rotating platform slipped its chain. Imagine a bicycle with a 24 foot diameter gear shifter. Imagine a chain that is inches thick wrapped around the gear powered by an electronic motor with at least 1/10th horsepower. With such unbridled power under our feet we spin at a sprinting speed, sometimes clockwise, sometimes counter-clockwise. We never know. It's always a surprise. Well, maybe not as fast as a sprint, but at least a bear crawl speed. Anyway, during a clockwise spin the platform chain slipped. Total breakdown. This needed to happen. You see, since it happened during tech we can reasonably be assured that it won't happen opening night. But hey, you poor suckers who purchased opening night tics for this Friday may be in for a treat! Also, will someone please tell the greenhorn that YOU DON'T SIT ON THE BREAKAWAY CHAIR! Especially after it's been placed onstage for the next scene. I must admit, that was one of the funniest foul-ups I ever did witness onstage. Thanks, Brian, for the good laugh.

Here Upon These Tiles We Will Build Our Barricade

Les Miserable opens in nine days. Yesterday we were warned that rehearsal may be extended since we had yet to block some of the smaller, yet very important scenes. The warning was blatant, but when we were requested to provide our own pillows and sleeping bags we knew they meant business. So we all trudged to the theater before rush hour was officially over and began setting up the scenes. One important scene is the opening of Act 2 where Enjolras informs his loyal followers that "here upon these stones we will build our barricade!" Dutifully, his loyal subjects run offstage and are supposed to return with a stack of books, or a box, or a marble - anything to add to the barricade. But as we did not have our set props to work with we practiced building our barricade using the only sacrificial objects we had - ourselves! Yes, actors can be so creative at times. At the end of the short scene, however, we remove the boxes and marbles and take them away as if to say, "ya know, let's build it down the street a spell." Using our one day off on Monday, the set builders successfully raised the stage with the turntable. This uses the same technology as the actual Broadway & tour shows. So after we became weary of piling onto a human pyramid in the rehearsal room, we moved onto the stage to practice some ballroom dancing on the rotating platform. Now I have danced in shows before. I have even waltzed and jitterbugged. But never have I done any movement while the stage rotates. Imagine yourself in a beautiful Viennese ballroom twirling and waltzing around the room in a race with 20 other couples. Then imagine the floor spinning to add double the speed. It's a bit nauseating and I'm sure during at least one performance the audience will enjoy a barf-fest during the wedding scene. And true to their warning, the director and stage management kept us late, threatening to thwap us with clipboards should we try to escape. So now I write this on my laptop on stage, snuggled in my sleeping bag using Wi-Fi to post to the blogosphere in hopes of hailing help from some local source in Portland. "Help! We're just poor actors being held captive in the theater until we 'get it right'! We need food! Substinance! Please bring donuts!" Maybe we'll 'get it right' Wednesday and will be allowed to go home to our own beds and loved ones. Pray for us...

At The End Of The Day

Joe Theissen, Wade Willis, and some of my other fellow cast members prepare for rehearsing, At The End Of The Day for Les Mis. Very busy first few days, and all we've got to show for it is the first 10 minutes of the show ready to go. I think I gushed a little in yesterday's post about how excited I am to be a part of this show. I remember seeing Les Mis for the first time in '92. It was a tour production performing at the 5th Avenue Theatre in Seattle. I was on tour myself doing a children's theatre show and my tour partner had a college friend singing Cosette in the show. She graciously came & talked to our kids, giving them a thrill at talking to a "real actress!" We saw the show that evening and afterward she gave us a backstage tour. I was only 22 and in awe of the size of the stage and set pieces. She proudly displayed her wedding dress costume for the final scene, revealing that it cost in the neighborhood of $10,000. We were also invited to the opening night gala with the cast of Les Mis in a nice lakeside restaurant in Seattle. I met the young Jean Valjean who I remember told me he was 25 or something close to that age. He was a fabulous Valjean and sounded great. I couldn't believe he was so young! I also met the Eponine (ooh la la!) who I think had a crush on me after a few drinks, but I never got her number. (Gah! I hate being shy!) I also remember Chuck Wagner, who played Inspector Javert. He was outstanding and remembered I wanted to meet this great baritone. However, he wasn't at the party. I did finally meet him after a performance of Jekyll & Hyde in Portland about six years ago. Still one of my favorite Broadway actors. Ok, so enough gushing already! Let's get to work and do this thing! Tomorrow we get to work on being poor beggars -- well, it's not just a clever title!

Do You Hear The People Sing?

After a few days of intense music rehearsal the cast of Les Miserable got on its feet tonight for the first staging rehearsal. This was such a wondrous occasion and personally exciting as I have loved this hit musical for over 20 years. It's been one of those "actor dreams" to be cast in this show in a professional theater so well managed and produced by Broadway Rose Theatre Co. At the helm of this production is Robert Hunt, who has been performing in Les Mis for years, and most recently as the principal character, Javert, on Broadway. Rob was here in Portland four years ago to perform the title role in Jekyll & Hyde, and it's great to have such a talented and experienced actor directing this show. I was privileged to be stabbed by the Jek on a nightly basis when we ran. (Isn't it every actor/actress's dream to be killed and die on stage?) By the way, if you look on his personal web site on the Photos page you will see photographs poasted of him rehearsing Jekyll here in Portland. The photographer? Yours truly. :-) It's an honor to have my creative work help promote Rob. The rights for Les Mis were released for regional theater for this year (2008) only, and only 24 contracts were issued for performance. Our Broadway Rose certainly displays its merit for being one of the few to obtain this precious permission. And almost 250 actors & singers came out of the Northwest woodworks to audition for this crowd fav. 31 were cast. Whoa! Dont' I feel lucky? (nods) So, my faithful readers, and those who happened upon my blog by strage and disgusting searches, I'll be blogging about this show for the next few weeks as we prepare for a four week run. Hope to see you at the show!

Brother Can You Spare a Dime – or The Unemployed Singer

Recently I’ve revised and updated my accounting resumé in order to try to acquire full time employment and I’ve noticed a distinguishing contrast with my performing resumé. Whereas a business resume (accountant, admin asst, etc.) likes to have little or no signs of unemployment or job skipping, a singer’s resumé works best when littered with numerous jobs and multiple companies. A sign of multiple unemployment is a positive sign that an actor/singer is in demand and has acquired years of experience with different roles and various composers. I’m proud of the multitude of roles and companies listed on my Curriculum Vitae, and am often saddened when I’ve acquired too many credits that some old work has to go. For instance, my first role ever in a musical was Mendel in Fiddler on the Roof performed for a small company in Montana. When the time came to see it drop from the list I took a moment of silence, then ordered another beer in celebration of more recent successes. So if you’re an unemployed performer don’t be gloomy. Put away that cardboard sign that says, “Will Sing For Food.” Keep auditioning and your next (and the next and the next, etc.) gig will add up to a healthy-looking resumé. Oh, by the way: WILL COUNT BEANS FOR FOOD! Gimme a call, eh?

Benefits of learning new roles

Day 2 - Thursday Rehearse rehearse rehearse. 7 hours of staging and reviewing. Gotta get this little opera on it's feet ASAP! I have performed Boheme before as Schaunard in Italian. I have filled in last-minute for this project to perform Colline and Alcindoro in ENGLISH. It's certainly a different learning curve memorizing an opera in English that once was completely learned in Italian. Performing Colline is a bonus to me, I feel, because as a Bass-Baritone I get to utilize the nice low notes, and have yet another role under my belt for this popular show. Later we shall be performing a concert version of our La Boheme in Italian with orchestra, so having another role memorized in Italian is bonus.

New Year, New Life, New Project

Day 1 - Wednesday Here we are and here we go! Today I begin a new adventure as a member of Portland Opera To Go (or, affectionately labeled "POGO"). Met and gret the 5 other cast members of POGO's Boheme and proceeded to get down to business. We have a talented cast with varying experiences. The soaring music of Puccini resounded in the rehearsal studio. Ah, Puccini. A performing artist who is fortunate to listen to Puccini all day for a living is truly blest indeed. After a few hours of music rehearsal we spent a good 5 hours staging acts I and II on our portable and compact set. As a seasoned performing artist I can tell you that staging that many hours at once is exhausting. I went home and after a quiet meal I fell asleep by 8pm. An early night for me.

The Sound of Silence or How to Win $1,000,000

Hello coughing, my old friend. I’ve come to hear your song again. My apologies to the super duo of Simon & Garfunkel. Call me a goofball (and I know many of you do) but I had the notion yesterday of winning a million dollars (that’s $1,000,000, or a one followed by six zeros!) with a cough. Yes a simple cough. I was not alone! Dozens of contestants flocked to Portland’s Living Room to listen for a cough that could win a million smackers. The rules were simple. Find the secret cougher and be the first to offer them a soothing Ricola cough drop. The winner would have an opportunity to choose 1 of 100 envelopes, one of which was a million dollar prize winner. The silly game was sponsored by Ricola, of course. Clues were given on radio ads as to where the mystery cougher would linger. Turned out it pointed at Pioneer Courthouse Square between 11:30 am and 1:00 pm yesterday. So I bought a bag of honey lemon Ricolas and wandered in the midst of a few, then a dozen, then dozens more “covert” pedestrians who all were scoping out the Starbucks on the corner. If security didn’t know better it would have looked like a bunch of us casing the joint. We all stood around, scanned the area, and listened for the suspect cougher. Who would it be? I did observe an innocent gentleman, knowing not of the little contest, who proceeded to clear his lungs and throat in the midst of all the cough chasers. He was swarmed by dozens of greedy folks offering a Ricola. He was quite embarrassed about the ordeal, but left with a giddy smile. If there ever was anyone needing a free cough drop, this was the place to be. I, however, only had an hour for lunch and had to depart before the prize cougher arrived. But I did notice some interesting things. I think in the 11 years I have been employed in downtown Portland I have not once just stood or sat listening and observing. So I stood silently to listen and observe my dear city. I watched folks with hunched shoulders from carrying bags full of presents jaywalk across the streets. I heard lots of bells, like the ringer in front of Nordstroms, the Max light rail bells, church bells in the distance marking noon o’clock. The sound of seagulls scavenging the area for dropped crumbs. Pigeons cooing and waddling around avoiding the steps of humans. Not once did I hear a cough. Drats. What did I learn? I need to observe more. As an actor and performer this lesson was well learned. Acting is, for the most part, re-acting. That is, a performer doesn’t stand on stage and deliver lines constantly. He or she listens to others, reacting to what is said or heard or seen. An actor must consciously fill the void of silence with imaginary thoughts, sounds, and actions. An actor must also define his or her character physically by actions. Keen observation of interesting people can provide lots of character fodder. So, stop & listen once in a while. Even to the sound of silence.

The Thespian Life

This is what a first stage rehearsal really looks like. We spend four weeks rehearsing music, dialogue, blocking, and hours of choreography in a crowded tool shop, then move suddenly into a real theatre with curtains and chairs and lights and everything. One can assume correctly that the spacing in a tool shop is quite a bit more cramped. So the first day on the stage set we all tend to stand around, look at the set, look at each other, look at where the audience will be (we want to be sure we can be seen at all times), then generally conclude that everything we did in a cramped toolshop has to be redone. So then we stand around looking at the director, who looks at the performers, who look back at the director, who yells, “quiet on the set!” because the set construction crew is still constructing the set as we stand on it, but the set construction crew ignores the director because the dudes really in charge are the set and lighting designers. So the director and performers mill around the stage in between the construction crew and the constant hammering, continually fearing for our lives as extremely heavy light trusses are dropped inches from our heads. We laugh, we joke, we comment that we wish the incessant hammering-sawing-drilling would cease, but to no avail. After a while we shrug our shoulders, agree that everything will work out, then go have a beer. I love the theatre!

Applause and the Blahs

How do you get motivated to do a performance on a day you wish not to be there? Happened to me on Wednesday. At 8:00 sharp the curtain rose for COLE, I looked at the audience, 600 pairs of eyes stared back at me, and I just could not find the motivation I needed to give them an uplifting performance. I was tired. I had low energy. My voice was being a pest and would not warm up. Not to mention the pesky distracting blister on my heel. So I switched to autopilot and after curtain call I felt I gave a robotic performance. Mid-weekday performance tend to be a little low energy anyway, and there are tricks for getting prepared and getting through an unmotivated performance. Was I so robotic that the audience did not enjoy? Not at all. I sang well, but realized my vocal limitations and know I can do better. I felt like lying down & taking a nap, but I danced my little dances with the obligatory wide smile. So how does one pull off a professional performance when none of the right elements are in one’s favor? Here are some tricks from the Evil Baritone bag: 1. Drink water. Constantly! Water is life. You must stay hydrated. Start drinking water at least 2-3 hours before the performance. Water is great for keeping the vocal folds from becoming inflamed and irritated. And the subtext of this statement is: a.) Avoid alcohol & caffeine. These dehydrate the body, working against your optimal performance mode. I failed to do both before the performance. I didn’t drink enough water & consumed coffee, soda and partook of the free beer provided at the summer company picnic. My performance suffered. Oh, and since you drank so much water, make sure there is a toilet close offstage – or just pick a pack of Depend underwear and simply get onstage and “just go”. 2. Stretch A few minutes of quiet meditation and stretching the poor, tired achy muscles will help prepare the body for it’s journey the next few hours. Of course this does nothing to help the aging and creaky joints of a weary thirty-something. I can usually be heard in the back of the stage bending my body and complaining that “I’m too old for this shit…” 3. Be prepared That means know your stuff! Inside & out! Your songs, arias, dialogue, character, whatever, need to be ingrained and rehearsed so that they flow freely from your mouth. Being completely able to immerse yourself into a natural performance is better than the stress of thinking, “oh, shit, what’s the next word/phrase/dance step?” When switching to autopilot this is essential. 4. Focus Number 3 above is no good without focus. Sometimes in situations when you are unmotivated on stage you need to focus even MORE! Focus on your next entrance. Focus on putting one foot in front of the other. Focus on keeping distractions at bay! Sometimes, as I did for a moment last night, I see an audience member wearing odd apparel such as a scarf, earmuffs and goggles. Distracting? You bet! But realize quickly that if you don’t drop it right away you are likely to make an embarassing slip in the lyrics to “Let’s Misbehave.” 5. Smile! Look at my face….I’m dancing! That’s a non-dancer’s mantra. I’m not a trained dancer. Never had a tap/jazz/ballet class in my life. But I move well and I have rhythm. But to keep an audience from realizing my lack of grace and an occasional moved caused by two left feet, a toothy smile is the best thing to let them know I’m having a great time, even if I’m unmotivated. If you’re having fun, the audience has fun. If you’re not having fun, let your professionalism take over and smile anyway. 6. The show MUST go on! Your fellow cast, tech crew, directors, designers, not to mention a paying audience all are depending on you to do your part. It’s a tremendous responsibility. Don’t blow it! Or you may end up never working for that company, or in that town, again. How’s THAT for motivation? Ok, be my guest to leave your tips & tricks for getting through an unmotivated performance. I’m too unmotivated to leave you with anything witty so I’m gonna have a beer & pass out on the recliner.

Don't Sing, this is a MUSICAL!

A quote and words of wisdom from our director, Sharon Maroney, while discussing a few final stylistic notes before opening night last Friday. After three weeks of intense music, staging and dance rehearsal Sharon imparted upon us before going onstage the importance of “showmanship” over musical quality when performing musical comedy numbers. Sharon is a brassy, loud and fabulous character performer and belter with years of New York stage experience. Mix in her deep Wisconsin dialect and scatterbrain train of thought, and she makes for one very amusing, confusing and diffusing director. But me? I’m too legit to quit. Ah, the fate of the classically trained singer. In fact, I think one Sharon’s quotes to me during a rehearsal of this charming Cole Porter musical review was, “you’re so goddamn TRAINED!” Thanks, Sharon. I’ll take that as a compliment! Besides, it was my “training” that had the audacity to interpret all those little black & white notes, rests & time signatures on the musical staves as music. Cole Porter wrote MUSIC along with the words, right. Cole tells a great story, and his clever word play and play on words make great songs. But my training instinctively informed me that Monsieur Porter added the music for a reason. So if I end up singing my way through this musical review, I’ll just say, My Training made me do it!!!