It seemed that no time had passed since that frigid February night when I’d been asked to consider a role in a new musical called “Head” by Deb Paterson for the Shakespeare In The Ruins Company. Any hesitancy had been dispelled upon a reading of the script and now, a few months later, we were on the cusp of starting rehearsals. The project’s journey had been a long one for Deb, having worked on it for a couple of years before this large step into production. The script itself was well focused and contained. It delved into the deeply fraught time leading up to and during the downfall of Anne Boleyn, Henry VIII’s second wife, laying bare the political and emotional turmoil surrounding the event. On that level I was looking forward to starting work. However, I had a problem. As has been repeatedly documented in these pages, I’m rather “old school” when it comes to the subject of Musical Theatre. I am a student of the genre and have spent most of my professional life immersed in its study, creation and performance, and I take it very seriously. So I was taken a little off guard by the state of the music I’d been given along with the script. While the spoken text had great clarity, the form and precision of the music left, for me, something to be desired. The music I’d been given seemed illogical, changing structure from bar to bar (not as a device, I was sure) and mired in a confusion of meter and form. There was little to hang on to rhythmically and words had been frequently been placed on the wrong beats in a bar resulting in a jolting em-pha’-sis on the wrong syll-a’-ble. I was hopeful that these problems would be solved in rehearsals.
Not many in the Cast had worked for the Company before. Shakespeare In The Ruins operated as a “co-operative” and, as such, most of us were a bit at sea with regard to the somewhat “loose” approach to the rehearsal process and organization. Some people have that laid back mindset in their blood, I don’t. I’m pretty pragmatic when it comes to putting a show together … something needs to get done, one person makes a decision and it’s dealt with. The “best-idea-in-the-room-wins” approach drives me to distraction and closes me down. I got the impression that Arne (MacPherson) our Director, was doing his best to apply a more “mainstream” structure to the experience, and it was working alright as we got down to business … or a hybrid of it. Winnipeg Guitarist-par-excellence, Greg Lowe and Choir Director Pat Robson were Musical Co-directors and they jumped in with all four feet addressing the problems. I spoke up from time to time, and tried to be as polite and gentle as I could, but endless discussion and negotiations weren’t solving the confusion. There are so many more elements in a Musical not present in a straight play and it took some time for song keys to be adjusted for our vocal ranges, for time signatures to be clarified, for chord progressions to be corrected and for more attention to be been paid to rhyme (an especially touchy subject for me). Slowly, with everyone being specific and concise, we managed to define things before too much more time was wasted talking about it.
Then, inescapably, we found ourselves facing the dreaded “table work”! Fortunately, mercifully, it quickly became very clear to the whole group that sitting about contemplating navels wasn’t going to cut it simply because of the time crunch. The pace picked up rapidly once we were on our feet. Everything was business. The dialogue had been crafted with a great deal of care and attention and, as such, the passion in the play was wonderfully playable. Marina Stephenson Kerr as ‘Anne Boleyn’ was astonishing, and it was beyond joy for me to have most of my scenes with her. This was one of those rare connections, sharing a stage with someone to whom you find yourself drawn, someone so present, focused, in control, at ease … and beautiful. A very young Samantha Hill (now “Samantha Jeanne”) was ‘Jane Seymour’, possessed of an incredible voice and an accessible vulnerable quality. She subsequently went off to Broadway to play “Christine” in “The Phantom of the Opera” for a number of years. Cory Wojcik (of late ‘The Cowardly Lion’ at Rainbow Stage) was the spit of ‘Henry VIII’ and with Miriam Smith, Melanie Whyte and Nancy Drake dynamically filling out the other women in the show, everything settled in to a smooth and relatively calm trek toward Opening.
Our days in the Rehearsal space at Prairie Theatre Exchange came to an end and by the time we moved into our performance space – the converted Reception Court in The Conservatory at Assiniboine Park – we had all formed a tight bond. And that was a good thing because now we were basically starting over again having to literally “build” our environment in the large raw space which would contain the production. The set was a series of wide open levels for the grander scenes with smaller satellite areas for the intimate scenes. The “Theatre” looked marvelous with great arrays of potted botanicals hanging from the ceiling and placed strategically throughout the space. The only downside was the fact that it was high summer on the Prairies and the Reception Court turned into a fancy, very big, very hot and humid greenhouse. During rehearsals it was almost more than we could bear as the sun beat down on the glass roof day after day! That bond of support and sympathy we’d created served us extremely well as we sweated toward the first public performances.
The Opening was packed to the gills with 120 people occupying a space meant for 90. All these bodies made the room even more uncomfortable, and with all our furs and finery on, it was hell whenever we were on stage. My character, ‘Thomas Cranmer’, religious advisor to the King, comes into his own at the end of the first Act and throughout the Second. By that time of the evening, things had cooled down a little in the room and I could concentrate a bit better as the sweat stopped running down my face.
From my various perches on stage, I could always see how beautiful the production looked. It was otherworldly, as if it had been plucked whole from another time and set down whole in the middle of wherever it was we were. It seemed to envelope all of us, audience and actors, in a smothering of leaves and vines and moss, protecting us from the unpleasantness of jail cells and executioner’s axes. The injustice of politics and greed combined with venal desire seeped into every moment leeching away hope and possibility. But it also ate away at our surfaces, leaving us just a bit strafed by the end of each performance. I resisted it as long as I could, but it eventually wore me down. I guess that was the cost of relinquishing oneself to the intensity of such drama. As is often the case with new work, there were still some things that continued to need attention but, with only ten chances to play at it, we stayed in our lanes, trying to deepen the relationships as we could, and took great solace when they worked. There was never a time to relax into our rhythms, some of which came spontaneously, surprisingly, and provided a momentary reward to buoy us along. By the time it ended, I was ready, albeit a touch disappointed that I’d not completely conquered it. There was talk of touring the production which came to naught, but Greg decided that at least a Studio recording of the score should be made for posterity and, on an afternoon shortly before closing, that’s just what we did. There is a song between ‘Cranmer’ and ‘Anne’ called “What Must You Think Of Me?”, a beautiful, gentle duet that ebbed back and forth between Marina and me and made me long for more. But, as always, everything that had fused together for those weeks disappeared in an instant of hugs and goodbyes, and the world came flooding back in.
It came to my attention, and surprise, that I’d been awarded a place on the Rainbow Stage “Wall of Fame”. This would be the third year since its inception and I was honored to be numbered among those who had made contributions to the Company over the years in a variety of categories – Creative, Performer, Technical, Volunteer, Administration, Musician and “Builder”. I was being named in the Creator and Performer categories and was asked to give a speech at the Induction Dinner in a few weeks, and had to put my mind to setting down something more than just a “thank you”, deciding how far I was going to take this opportunity. Should I just be “nice” or come out with both guns blazing? I didn’t hold back.
The event took place at the Norwood Hotel and about 275 people turned up, having forked out a hundred bucks each for a Prime Rib Dinner and a “Show”. I went with Teresa, and as we looked about the room, neither of us could figure out who all these folks were! There were a few Rainbow Board Members there in “official” capacities, but these “suits” certainly weren’t from the Arts Community. And they certainly didn’t know who I was. I wandered around trying to find a familiar face to chat with or get a nod from, but I was an unknown, a cipher, a body in a suit and tie with no connection to anyone. That was somewhat disconcerting. Usually at least someone would come up to me and mention that they’d enjoyed this show or that show, and we’d have a little back-and-forth and then move on. This time, nothing.
The food was second-rate hotel fare. The “Show”, by some of the younger Rainbow Chorus Kids looked minimally rehearsed, which drove me nuts, and I found it difficult to get overly enthused about their work. As soon as they finished, they disappeared into the night, our last vestige of energy and any trace of “showbiz”. I felt depressed.
Ron Meyers, an old Board stalwart around since the beginning, had been tagged to introduce me. He spoke for much longer than I thought I deserved but was incredibly generous in his remarks. I thought I might be an anticlimax to such a wonderful speech. After some thanks to a variety of folks I’d worked with over the years, I got into the thoughts I’d honed over the previous days.
“It’s been twenty-three years since I began my association with Rainbow Stage playing ‘Dick Deadeye’ in “HMS Pinafore”. I think back to those days when I would arrive for the show and note Jack Shapira’s Silver Phantom Rolls Royce parked beside the Stage Door Entrance and wonder what kind of set-to I was going to get into with him that evening over some Union infraction because I was, unfortunately, the Equity Deputy.
“I think back to the “Camp Rainbow” days when the roof leaked (both on stage and off), when a musician who’d had too much to drink before the show was hauled out of the orchestra pit by his arms by stage hands during a performance.
“I think back to the sweat pouring from us as we departing from a pretend-winter Anatevka in “Fiddler On The Roof”, dressed in heavy woolen coats with the stage lighting making our little Russian shtetl a tropical 40 degrees Celsius!
“I think back to the tears in my eyes as I watched those kids finally get the jobs they were trying out for in “A Chorus Line” and forming that glorious golden kick-line at the end of the show.
“I think back to our last performance of “42nd Street” when all our lives, cast’s, crew’s and audience’s collided and intertwined in love and respect in the overwhelmingly emotional final curtain call.
“And I think of a so-very-young Jeremy Kushnier as ‘Oliver’ and sweet Jayne Paterson as ‘Dorothy’ in my first “Wizard”, of an earnest Kevin McIntyre as ‘Hero’ in “Forum”. And I know why I love Rainbow Stage.
“But my perspective is much different than it was twenty-three years ago. I now look for challenges and possibilities beyond the tried and true – beyond the “Brigadoons”, the “South Pacifics”, the “Oklahomas”. As a performer and director and even as an audience member, I see Rainbow Stage on the cusp of uncharted territory, and I realize that the status quo can keep bums in the seats for only so long.
“Take this into consideration: a few years ago, during a production of “South Pacific”, my friend Robbie Paterson, who was playing the role of ‘The Professor’, had to make an exit from the stage through the audience each night. He then had to wait near the concession booths at the back of the house before returning to the stage. During those breaks, Robbie would usually stand and gossip in the dark with the genial Ron Meyers, one of Rainbow’s most watchful and perpetually present Board Members. In the course of one of those breaks, Robbie happened to comment on “the amount of yellow that night”. For those who don’t know, “yellow” refers to the 2,600 yellow fiberglass seats in the house. When those seats were empty, they were painfully obvious to us from the stage every night. Ron pulled Robbie over to the side for a slightly more expansive view pointing to the back half of the theatre. “There should be people in those seats! Do you know where they are?” he asked. Robb said he didn’t, and without a breath, Ron said, “They’re dead!”
“Funny though his words were, they pointed to an unavoidable truth. Rainbow’s traditional audience was disappearing. The folks who always came to see the Old Chestnuts were dwindling. It meant that this Theatre’s life blood was now to be found only in a younger audience. And you’re only going to get a younger audience by putting on shows a younger audience wants to see. I can tell you it’s not “The King and I” It’s “Les Miz”! It’s “Rent”!. It’s “Hairspray”! It’s the most recent show that has the buzz. And it’s no longer a case of “put it on and they will come”. Those days are gone. Competition for the entertainment dollar is brutal. It’s a case of turning something into an event. It’s taking a step outside of the comfort zone, creating a desire and spending money to see it through. It’s the business.
“I’ll be blunt. Forget the status quo. Fourteen dollar seats are a thing of the past. So are the shows we’ve honoured as a part of our history. It’s great to fly the Wicked Witch of West over the stage every now and then, but please … it’s time to move on!”
The speech got them going. Even Ron Meyers’ very conservative wife, Estelle, who was seated beside me, gave me a big hug when I returned to our table. I received a standing ovation from the folks which kind of surprised me. It struck me that maybe I had said aloud what a lot of people had been thinking. A couple of days later I got a long e-mail from Board President Campbell McIntyre asking me if I would be available to come and brainstorm with the Executive Committee in the next month or so. I said I’d be happy to but reminded him that I wouldn’t be pulling any punches. He said that’s why they were asking me.
It was all a little sad upon reflection actually. I was sorry that the folks who should have been there to celebrate their own work and each other couldn’t afford the hundred bucks to attend. As it turned out, that all changed the following year. The event became free to everyone and was held in the Lobby of the Pantages Theatre with drinks and appetizers on the house. It became a Party! And it was wonderful!
“Pirate Queen” (AKA “Grania: She-King of the Irish Seas”) had started its Previews in Chicago. There was still an incredibly long way to Opening Night … months, in fact. The road even to this point had been incredibly hectic for me. The orchestrations were a huge component of the production. Since the story was based in Ireland, the score that Claude-Michel and Alain had created was heavily steeped in Gaelic tradition, steeped to the point of absolute authenticity in every aspect of the music. At exceedingly great expense – transportation, accommodations, per diems, all amenities, essentially anything they wanted – professional Irish musicians had been imported from Ireland at the very beginning of the rehearsal process. There was no reliance on electronics or synthesizers for those particular sounds. These were the real instruments (Bodhran, Gaelic Harp, Irish Pipes, Uilleann Pipes, Irish Fiddles, etc.) played by musicians who had played them all their lives. The orchestrations had been created for them and by them and, of course, they were constantly changing. As a result, my budget and payroll spreadsheets were also constantly changing, daily in fact, as another new musician would arrive from Ireland to take up a new part of the score that had been added for a very specific effect. Of course, there was a compliment of the usual players – the winds and strings and brass – but it was creating this “sound” that took up an extraordinary amount of time which meant an extraordinary amount of money. And my head was in moment-by-moment-tension for fear of making a mistake … just like the old Manilow, “Bourne’s “Swan Lake”, “Chitty” New York/Broadway days. The show wouldn’t open until April of 2007 and had already been in rehearsals for four months.
It was amazing to watch the frenzied activity from a distance. One of the base points of the publicity was something called “Castcom”, short behind-the-scene clips of creators and cast members talking about the show, designers talking about the sets and costumes, about rehearsals, five-minute PSA’s which came out every couple of days, keeping the show’s name front and center on social media. It was my only connection to what I was a part of, but not, and I watched these short shots religiously to get a feel for what was happening in Chicago. A lengthy, long-planned hiatus took place over the Holidays and then the behemoth geared up full-throttle in the New Year as “we” made the massive transition and settled in at the Hilton Theatre, formerly the Ford Center where “Chitty” and “Ragtime” had begun.
In the meantime, I’d cemented some of my up-coming season with a “Sound of Music” for Rainbow. A possible “Importance of Being Earnest” for MTC that Fall seemed to be dangling, and a few other things were lurking in the shadows trying to find the light. It’s always those “other things” that throw spanners into the works. Getting the year set puts my mind at ease, but I guess two tentatives at this point were better than nothing.
It had been a long time since I’d auditioned for someone I didn’t know. James Dodding was a highly regarded British Theatre director and teacher with whom Stephen (Schipper) had worked in the past. He was being brought over to direct the “Earnest” for MTC. Robbie had called me the day before he was dropping into town and suggested that I should at least come in and “meet” James. I didn’t think it was going to be an audition, so I wasn’t particularly anxious about a few minutes for a chat. But that’s what it turned into – an audition! He was a very pleasant chap, an elderly man, steeped deeply, at least to my ear and eye, in a great British theatrical tradition, precise, accessible and very funny. Robbie was very taken with him because he was, as Robbie said, “so smart” … and I also got that impression right off the bat – not pompously smart, just subtly and obviously so. He asked if I had anything I could read for him. Without a beat I asked if I could read ‘Lane’ and ‘Merriman’, the two household servants – one young and one old … or at least the way I did them. “Both?”, he asked. “Yes”, I replied simply and, with Robbie as my scene partner, I was off. It had been 25 years since last doing those two roles at MTC and it all came flooding back to me – how wonderful these parts were and how much fun I’d had doing the show back then. Why would another kick at that can be any different now. At least I ‘grown into” the parts a bit more. I read well and James actually laughed a couple of times during the very short scenes. That was a good sign, but perhaps he was that accommodating for everyone. I’d just have to wait and see.