Tulip Fever Has Passed

The Tulipomania workshop has ended, the flowers have all been picked! I had such a good time. Not only did I get out of the house, I got to watch the growth of a play as well as bask in the talent of some great actors. After having worked with many of these actors in Candide, it was great to see them in different roles. The stage reading was well-received. I am always impressed when busy people can take time out of their day to watch a reading. It's so cool!

The first three days of the workshop were devoted to learning music and understanding the story. By the last day, however, it was an explosion of fully formed characters that suddenly sprang to life. Without any blocking, the actors told the story sitting behind music stands and yet, I believed them. One actress, Mary Martello, a staple on Philly stages, played the role of the housekeeper. She had this song, Ceremonium Mysterium, in which she disguises herself as a notary (rather Moliere-esque). By the final day of rehearsal, not only did she have the song down but she had infused it with such life that the other actors had trouble not laughing at her.

If Tulipomania is given a full stage production, it will be difficult to see different actors in these roles. Of course, who knows? If the Arden stages it, many of these actors might be back. Anyway, it got me thinking about different actors portraying the same role.

Coincidentally, I read this article in the New York Times about the three different guys who have played Bobby Gould in the New York production of David Mamet's Speed the Plow. Jeremy Piven left the role due to mercury poisoning (or as Mr. Mamet suggested, to become a thermometer). Ben Brantley, who wrote the article, enjoyed seeing the three different interpretations of the same character in the same production.

I have seen different actors play the same role when understudies have had to go on. When that happens, I am usually more focused on ensuring that the understudy knows where to enter, when to enter, and with what props. Only once did I get a chance to see two different actresses develop the same role.

Back in 2003, I stage managed a production of Harriet Returns for Us, a 45 minute one-woman show about Harriet Tubman that Capital Repertory Theatre toured to schools in the Albany, NY area. When they decided to re-do the show the following year (demand was high from the schools), the original actress couldn't do it so they hired Iris Farugia. We used the same costumes, same script, same props but the two Harriett could not have been more different.

At one point in a tech rehearsal, Ms. Farugia said, "I know I'm supposed to sit here but I don't feel it, I'd like to be standing." And her choice made sense for the Harriet she created; her Harriet was always on the go, moving forward. The original actress had a more introspective Harriet and so sitting worked for her. Both choices worked remarkably well.

Watching Tulipomania evolve and reading that article made me think of that little moment. It's odd how that happens, isn't it? A small thing happens, insignificant really but it stays with you forever. Perhaps I had one of the Aha! moments that Oprah is always talking about.

It will be interesting to see Tulipomania in its final form. As for the actors, I wouldn't recommend quitting their day jobs to work as a thermometer; I don't think it pays well.

Tulipomania--A Quickie

I'm stage managing a short gig at the Arden Theatre, a workshop of a new play entitled, Tulipomania. It is indeed about that period in Dutch history (around 1640) when buying tulips was like starting a dot-com in the 1990s. The price of tulips rose and rose until, oh you guessed it, tulips flooded the market, the bubble popped and the tulips were nearly worthless. Although without the tulip craze, what would we associate with Holland?

Anyway, Michael Hollinger (a local playwright) wrote the script and Michael Ogborn wrote the music and lyrics. The Arden is hosting a staged reading of the play in order to see where it stands: does it need any re-writes, is it ready for production, etc.

We have (under AEA rules) 29 hours to rehearse and "perform" the play. I put perform in quotes because a staged reading has little if any blocking, no costumes, no props and the actors have their scripts in hand. We're rehearsing over 4 days and most of the actors were also in Candide. A friend of mine, who also worked on Candide and is currently stage managing Asher Lev, remarked, "It's like Candide lite."

It's so exciting to see theater in its most nascent form; right when the piece becomes a collaboration between writers, director, and actors. No matter how many times you write or re-write a play, it is intended to be interpreted by others. As the actors learn the music, it's interesting to watch as the composer tightens up certain songs or adds measures to make a an ending stronger. During this time, the playwright makes changes as well after hearing his words come alive by the actors. For one character, he changed quite a few lines because, as Mr. Hollinger put it, "He's just not that nice."

The final collaborator (before a full production with designers jumping on the band wagon) is, of course, the audience. While a polished staged reading is not necessarily the goal, their reaction is important in gauging what works and what does not as the piece moves forward in its development.

So I'm having a great time watching the growth of Tulipomania while hanging out people I love to work with and getting out of the house for a few days. Plus, I have no blocking to record or props to track. It's a sweet gig. I told the production team at the Arden, "Anytime you have one of these workshops in need of a stage manager, call me." Who doesn't love a good quickie?

Sand Castles

I've been having weird dreams this past week about Candide. They usually occur right before I wake up. I'll be dreaming about a point in the play and I'll think, 'Oh, I should check that out next time I watch the production.'

Then, I wake up and realize that it's all over and I'll never see it again. It reminds me of the acceptance speech Robert Altman gave at the Oscars a few years ago when he won an honorary Oscar. He compared his style of movie making to building a sand castle with friends and then watching the tide come in and wash it away; all that's left are the memories of a great day. My only issue with that comparison is that with a movie, at least one has the finished product preserved for all time on celluloid.

But the comparison holds true for theater. Never again will I have the chance to watch Candide as it was staged at the Arden Theatre. All I have left are the memories of the production. The tide in the form of the strike crew has come in and washed away the set and costumes and lights and left the sand for another production to build on.

I feel that life is like that as well. We go through stages that sometimes evoke great emotions and then after we're through that stage, we are left with the memories. I visited a friend from People's Light earlier this week who has 2 young children. As I chatted with her and played with her toddler I was nostalgic for when my children were that young and we had all these years ahead of us. Now, my children are a bit older and we've built several sand castles together and they are starting to build their own as well.

I ache when I think back on some of my memories; I ache to relive the emotion that I felt at the time. The joy in my daughter riding a bicycle, the proud sadness of watching my son go to school, the laughter around a fire on a lazy Sunday afternoon. These moments form the path of our lives and in these moments and many others--those that fraught with deep emotions like a funeral or a wedding--that we form our true selves.

Theater, I think, gives us access to those emotions as well as many others; grief, anger, despair to name a few. For the short span of a play or musical, we connect and identify with the emotional lives of the characters and recognize in them something of our own lives. Often, it is through this recognition, that we discover new ideas and new ways of seeing ourselves and the world around us. And yet, after the final curtain, the tide washes the play out to sea and we have our memories.

So, while Candide has left with the tide, I will always remember it fondly because it has changed the way I see myself as a Stage Manager. I have a new found confidence; I no longer shrink with insecurity at what I don't know because I realize I have the knowledge within me to figure it out.

But now, it's time to build other sand castles.

Last Call

Candide closed on Sunday afternoon. Normally, when a show ends, actors say good-bye, promise to keep in touch and rush off to catch a train. But this show was different. When I came down from the booth for intermission, everyone had gathered in the green room. It was as if they needed to spend every precious moment left with each other. The farewells after the performance lasted longer than most. We felt closer than a normal cast because we had all been through and created something that was larger than any one of us had done before. It was one of those times when a group of people have been through something so emotional that only those involved in it can understand it. I'm not sure what it's called or if I'm explaining it correctly. The first rule of Candide is that no one talks about Candide. Or something like that.

When I hit the go button for the last few cues, my eyes welled up. I thought back to the start of rehearsals when I couldn't remember any one's name and to tech which felt as if it would never end. But it did end, and we had a show that ran like clockwork. I never thought it would become this good or this easy a production. Yet, it did and I was a part of it. I'm not a sentimental person but I was sad at leaving it all. I had seen this show through to the end with success--and no injuries.

No actors were harmed in the making of Candide.

So saying good-bye was bittersweet. I was excited to return to my normal life at home but sad to be leaving behind the challenge of each performance. The crew and I started our strike almost immediately after the curtain went down. Well, to be honest, the crew started the strike, I wandered around saying good-bye, not willing to begin the final closure of the show.

I had to though, because everyone had left and I had no one else to talk to. So I wiped down dressing room tables and took apart body mics. It was with mixed feelings of pride, joy and sadness that I turned in my keys and left my prompt book for the production manager; I was leaving behind the last tactile vestiges of my involvement with Candide. I'll be back of course, for The Seafarer at the end of the season, but this show had affected me in much the same way it affected the actors. I didn't know how to leave it. Yet, I did leave it, in the same way I left it every night after a performance by walking out the door of theater.

And then, like every night after a performance, I went to the bar.

Hey Buddy, You on Stage, You Got the Time?

Have you heard the phrase, "You can set a watch by his performance"? It's used in theater to describe an actor whose timing is so consistent night after night, right down to smallest hand gesture, that you could probably set a watch by his performance.


I first heard the phrase years ago on my first show as an Equity Stage Manager, Shaker Heights. One of the supporting actresses turned in such a performance. I didn't even have to watch her to know exactly what she would do next.


In my limited experience, I have found that it is mostly supporting characters that are so consistent. Once the actor has discovered the essence of the character, there are not many outside forces that alter that character's path.


Actors in leading roles tend to have more stage time and therefore more contact with the other characters in the play as well as the audience. In addition, leading roles have stronger emotional arcs as they are the ones driving the dramatic action of the play. Given that, it is easy to see how a performance might be influenced by the mood of the actor or the rest of the cast or even the audience.


For example, during Piano Lesson, Brian Anthony Wilson played Avery, a supporting character. You could definitely set a watch by his performance. During each show, I would watch for him to take off his hat and bend down to whisper in Berneice's ear. It happened the exact same way every night and it fascinated me, this precise timing. Having only worked with Mr. Wilson in this one play, I'm not sure if he would do the same thing if he had a leading role. Luckily, he's a great actor and well-loved by Philadelphia audiences so I hope I get the chance to find out. Now, another thought just occurred to me, Mr. Wilson also works in film which requires an actor to turn in the same performance take after take. I wonder if this informs his stage acting?


During Piano Lesson, I also worked with Kes Khemnu (who incidentally, is on stage right now at the Arden in Gee's Bend) who played Boy Willie, the lead in the show. I loved watching Mr. Khemnu for the opposite reason of Mr. Wilson. Mr. Khemnu truly played off the emotions of the rest of the cast as well as the audience. His performance, while consistently amazing, changed slightly (and sometimes more than slightly) with each show. It's not he altered his blocking drastically, it's that his gestures or the height of his emotional state changed as he reacted to his own mood or the mood of the cast or even the audience.


Anyway, I've been thinking about this while watching Candide because you could really set a watch by everyone in the cast; they are so exact night after night. Part of it has to do with the fact that it is a musical but also I think it has to do with the show itself. The show is huge, it's performed in the round with chalk and mops and boxes. In order to get through it without a misstep ("do I chalk here or move a box?") or without crashing into another cast member, the movements have to be precise. And even within little scenes where the actors have some wiggle room, there is very little deviation.

But don't get me wrong, it's not monotonous at all. It's great fun to watch, especially since the performances are so good and I marvel at how much energy each actor brings to the stage, show after show. I guess I'm getting a bit nostalgic since this is the last week of the show. It's rather like watching your favorite movie over and over again; only this movie won't be playing next week.

Dial "S" for Stage Manager

I was late for my call on Tuesday. We had a 10 am performance of Candide for High School students so I needed to be at the theater at 8:30 am. Normally, the stage manager and crew arrive for set-up an hour before half hour. Well, yesterday, I misjudged Philly traffic. I thought I might be 15 minutes late, but no, after spending 40 minutes on Lincoln Drive, I knew it was going to be bad. I got to the Arden a bit after 9 am. Luckily, we have a great crew on this show (an assistant stage manager, 4 spot operators and a deckhand) and I've made sure that everyone knows how to do everything for set up. And thank goodness for cell phones.

At at standstill on Lincoln Drive, I called my assistant to tell him I would be late. Then I called the Costume Supervisor to ensure that our dry cleaning would be back in time for the show. Of course she had taken care of it but with a quick phone call, I was able to cross that off my list. If I didn't have a cell phone, my assistant would be frantic wondering if I had forgotten about the matinee. Because I was in the car, he wouldn't have been able to reach me. I know, calling from a car is not very safe but believe me when I tell you that traffic was not moving.

Once at the theater, I realized that one of the actors had not arrived. I contacted him by cell phone and he had indeed forgotten about the show. He ran over and on his way, called us to ask if we could pre-set his costume which saved him valuable time when he did arrive. Without cell phones, I may never have reached him. We may still be searching Philly for him! Okay, not really but that cell phone came in handy.

The funny thing is I don't like talking on the phone at all. I avoid it at all costs. I much prefer e mail -- which is another technology I use quite a bit in theater. Part of my job is to take notes during rehearsals and performances and write up a report at the end of each day. The notes normally contain information for the different departments or request information. For example, I may let props know that we need 2 electrified lantern or ask costumes if a jacket has pockets.

Back in the day, the stage manager would write these notes up by hand (or maybe on a computer) and then photocopy them and distribute them to all the production staff as well as designers and directors. This often meant faxing to the out of town designers.

Now, instead of staying late at the theater to fax the report to several people, I can curl up in the comfort of my own home with jammies on and beer in hand (an IPA if you're wondering) and with a push of a button get the report out to everyone. And it saves paper!

The bulk of a stage manager's duties is communication so naturally I would say that cell phones and e mail have totally streamlined the job. I wonder though, if I asked the different production staff what technology they would cite as being most beneficial to their work. E mail and cell phones of course but they don't get a set built or props made. I might have to ask around and get back to you.

And if you have any thoughts on the matter let me know.

Oh, and the student matinee on Tuesday went really well. We started on time (even with all the lateness) and the kids really enjoyed it.

Feeling Groovy

There is something about the second week of a run that makes it feel like the show has finally left the starting gate. In the flurry leading up to opening, everyone--actors, crew, designers, and production staff--works furiously to put all the elements in place for the production. This was especially true for Candide. With the large number of props and costume pieces not to mention the mops, chalk, boxes and rigging, I felt like I was constantly playing catch-up. I told the crew numerous times, "We'll find our groove and it will run like clock work." But I didn't believe myself.

Then the show opened (to great reviews by the way), and we had our first five-show weekend (one on Friday night, and two each on Saturday and Sunday). It was as if the grown-ups had left the building and all hell broke loose. In the push to get the production to a performance level some smaller issues had been put on the back burner. And it wasn't until the weekend, when the entire production staff was enjoying a much needed break, that these little problems came to light. Unfortunately, on a production as big as Candide, the little problems add up. So I still felt behind this past weekend as I searched for shoe pads for an actress whose shoes had stretched too much or worked on a wobbly box for an actor who didn't feel safe. In addition, the crew and I had to work out how to do laundry on two show days and what to do about lamps that suddenly weren't working among other things.

And then we had a day off. On Tuesday evening, I arrived at the theater and the crew and I started set-up. We were done, without glitches, in under an hour. The actors arrived fresh from an almost 48 hour break and settled in as if Candide had been open for over a month. The production staff at the Arden, like little elves in the night, had fixed all the little problems that had cropped up over the weekend.

The shows this week have been fantastic. The actors, secure now in the knowledge not only of their characters but in also how the costume changes, props, and box moves work, are discovering new aspects to the myriad of characters they play. There are fumbles of course--a missed line, wrong notes in a song, and little maintenance things--sewing buttons, finding wig pins. But this show that I thought was too big for me to handle (a few times I thought I'd be discovered as a fraud and 'hung from the highest gibbet') has become manageable. It's almost, dare I say it, easy.

I guess it was all a matter of finding the right groove.

Out of the Box

Yesterday, or was it the day before? Even though we've opened Candide, time is still very fluid. I think it's because I don't get home from an evening show until midnight or 1 am and then I have to get up at 7:30 am to get my kids to school. Yes, I know tons of parents who stay up even later and still have hugely productive days. Not me, I've always been one who needs sleep.


Anyway, yesterday, I think, I wrote about some of the challenges of tech week including mops, chalk, fly cues, light cues, etc. Another challenge that presented itself to us right from the start of rehearsals was boxes. Nestled around the stage in four different nooks are eight boxes--4 cubes and 4 rectangles (or double-wides as we call them) all exactly alike. With these boxes the actors create a classroom, a canoe, a gondola, Venice, a galley ship, an inn and more. From these boxes, the actors pull many of the props and costumes used during the production.


It sounds easy but then you realize that the actors are constantly moving boxes from one part of the stage to another. From the very first rehearsal my assistant, Alec Ferrell, and I had to track the movement of every single box in order to know into which box to place props that might not be used until the end of the act. For example, a box sits at the top of the ramp at the end of act one. Out of that box comes a rag and some clothing. But how did that box get from the floor of the theater to the top of the ramp? We tracked boxes using letters. Every box had a letter and every time it moved onstage, I would draw a picture showing the placement of every box (and what props were in each box). It sounds tedious but it came in handy when we moved to the stage.


A lot can happen when the cast moves onto the set. Blocking (the movement of the actor on the stage, which is recorded by the stage manager in the prompt book) changes frequently and with this show, so did the box movements. Props that were placed in box F say, had to be moved to box D because box F was no longer being used. It became even more complicated as box F was used for some stuff at the top of the show but then box D took over. Confusing? Yeah, tell me about it.


Needless to say, I became obsessed with boxes. As we worked slowly through the show it was easy to place the correct box in the correct position for the upcoming scene. But where did that box come from? Had we tracked its progress so that when we ran the show it would be in the right position?


The actors also had to deal with the boxes since they were the ones moving them. As we would set up for a certain scene, I would inevitably hear, "There's supposed to be a box here that isn't here." And I'd go for my notes tracking which box indeed sat there for that scene. One actor told me he has 14 box moves before his character enters.


We have everything working smoothly now mainly because Alec and I don't let anyone else on the crew touch the boxes as we set up. I just hope the understudies have been tracking box movements as well as character blocking because on Candide, there is no thinking outside of the box. See, I really do need to get more sleep.

Prep Week

Prep week has begun for me. This is the week before rehearsals start when the Stage Manager gets the rehearsal room ready and makes sure that the actors know where to go on the first day. Another Stage Manager has blogged about this in a bit more detail.

It usually starts with a production meeting, at least it does at the Arden. The meeting consists of the production manager, the props master, the technical directors, the master electrician, and the costume shop supervisor. They hold these meetings weekly and during a production and I try to go to as many as possible. Sure, we have e mail and phones but to sit in a room with all that brain power gives me a sense of comfort. Any question or problem is taken seriously and everyone works together to solve it. I never feel, as I have in other theaters, that I'm out there in the wind by myself trying to figure things out.

Of course, the other part of prep week, the taping of the stage and the notifying the actors, that's all up to me. Taping the stage means well, it means laying the groundplan for the set on the floor of the rehearsal room with tape. This allows the actors to understand where the limits of the set are during rehearsals. Obviously, I can't put the stairs in but I can outline them so they know where they are. Not that it helps, inevitably on the first day on stage we hear:

"The stairs are there? I didn't know that?"
"What do you mean there's a wall there?"
"Are you sure that's a door?"

What can you do?

Anyway, I've spent years avoiding taping the stage due to the nature of the productions I worked on. So taping the stage has becomes this huge deal that I fret about for about a week. It started a couple of weeks ago when the Production Manager, Courtney Riggar, e mailed me the groundplans for Candide. Brian, my husband, took one look at them and said, "It's in the round? You are so screwed?"

He was messing with me because he thinks its funny I make such a big deal out of taping the floor. Of course measuring off the centerline and converting a 1/4" scale into feet is like second nature to him. I was a French major, the last math I did was in high school!

Last night, while my kids swam at the neighbors I sat there discussing how to tape an octagon. Kenny, the owner of the pool gave me specific directions but I had worked myself into a frenzy and couldn't comprehend it. I mean, it's an octagon, right? How hard can it be?

Well, we'll see today. Wish me luck!