It really came as no surprise at all when “The Pirate Queen” put up its closing notice. Right from outset, there were rumblings and rumours that this would happen sooner rather than later. We got some advance notice but didn’t put any word out – that job was up to the Producers. Our pit rep had been keeping us up to date on the house sizes and after opening they had rarely gone above 40%, which is disastrous for a show this big and expensive. Reviews had been dreadful and there was no recovering from those. There were no Tony Award nominations. By the time it went down, it had played 32 previews, 85 performances, and had lost all of its 16 million dollar investment. Our weekly fee would be missed but my feelings were with the great bunch of musicians we had hired from near and far. On Broadway, there is no guarantee. The number of hits is far surpassed by the number of flops. We’d already experienced several of those over the years. The hopes and dreams and all the work so many people depended on … well, in this business nothing was concrete or quantifiable … or even identifiable. There must have been a little whimper somewhere, but I didn’t hear it. It was on to something else. And in my case, it was “The Sound of Music”.
The “Boot Camp” was a hoot. Twenty kids gathered for a half day of singing and dancing and antics that would culminate in Ken and I deciding who would make up the seven Von Trapp kids for the production. We made it as fun as possible, playing theatre games and doing improvs to see how they worked together and responded to each other, all while trying to keep to a minimum the pressure in what was, unsubtly, a very pressure-filled experience … for ALL of us. It was hard to ignore how the day would have to end. I could have cast the show twice-over with the talent before us. There were a few that rose to the surface right off the bat, but considering the combination of looks and ages and sizes and personalities as well as abilities made the narrowing-down process painful. When Ken and I met to compare notes at the end of the day, we discovered that we had exactly the same names on our final lists. I was relieved.
Bob Ivey’s set design was a marvel. After considering all the options, we had decided to build rather than rent. I wanted the visuals to be “adult”, no Disney-ing up of the stage, to be elegant and simple, and perhaps most importantly, to work. I wanted the set changes to be filmic, to segue one into the next, seamlessly, quietly and quickly. I could see from his model that this goal was not out of reach. And with all that in place, we got started.
There is no escaping the fact that “The Sound Of Music” is a “sweet show”. It was pointless to try to avoid the built-in and somewhat cloying quality of the material. But there is also a darkness that permeates the story, and I made it clear to everyone at the outset that I wasn’t going to ignore that element of the piece. I wanted a certain reality to anchor the performances – that a danger lurked in the nooks and crannies of the space they were inhabiting. And that space was huge. It was the nature of the Stage at Rainbow and there was no way to minimize it. It would dictate the blocking. Since there are very few crowd scenes and the vast majority of the story was told in intimate settings, they would have to be very aware of how I was placing them on stage to maintain a focus within those spatial relationships. There could be no wandering about on a whim. That visual focus had to be set in stone. And everyone, thankfully, took that to heart as we launched into the “Blocking Express”, as somebody called it. There were no grand production numbers, no time-consuming choreography and, thank God, no flying. And, even to my own amazement, by the Sunday night of the first week, we were done … sketchily, but all blocked.
The cast was wonderful! Everyone continued to focus on telling the story as clearly as possible and each performer understood where their responsibilities lay and how they were crucial to moving things forward. All that was rather academic, but the fortunate thing was that everyone also played the “heart” of the show. Our Nuns were glorious. While it was a delight to hear them sing together, it was also astonishing to see their own individual personality inhabit each Nun. At the head of that group was Colleen Skull, our Mother Superior. I knew there wouldn’t be a dry eye in the house when she sang “Climb Every Mountain” at the end of Act One. But there were some tense moments. In her scenes with ‘Maria’ her spoken dialogue was rushed, as if she wanted to get to the singing part of the role. She is a very accomplished opera singer. That is her métier, her usual performance mode. At one point, as I pushed her a bit in a scene, she told me, “But I’m a singer!” I said, “No, you’re an actress” and she couldn’t argue with that and got on with it. And ultimately was superb!
The kids quickly bonded with each other during rehearsals. They had a wrangler, so they were never left to their own devices. They ate together under the trees out in the park during the dinner breaks. They went swimming together at the pool during their down time and would generally just hang out as a very intimate group. Half way through the rehearsals, I spent an hour talking with them, just checking in to find out how they were doing. We talked about how they saw themselves in their characters and what concerns they had about the process we were going through. They all chimed in with great questions, “actor” questions and observations about technique and relationships, small details that only they would notice. Amazingly, they even began to look like a family.
The set arrived at the stage and, while it took some time to master its physical movement and idiosyncrasies, it ended up looking stunning and worked like a charm. Scott Henderson’s lighting was, as always, perfect, and as we moved into tech I would sit out in the house watching the whole thing happen, calming myself in the silent acknowledgment that this was really a good show. To be expected, there were small lapses from time to time, when I’d have to backtrack, reminding them of the details we had spent so much time defining and incorporating into the story. But those were always good conversations that always resulted in even more clarity for everyone, including me. It was very solid work. No one, not even the kids, were “playing at it”. They were all inside the material. That’s what made it, to my eye, “a good show”.
But there was one point that concerned me. The last quarter of the show gets very … well, emotionally manipulative. It pushes buttons very quickly, one after the other, starting from the middle of the Concert Sequence, and the show turns dark and dangerous. At this point, the Rainbow audience becomes the Kaltzberg Concert Hall audience. When ‘von Trapp’ can’t sing “Edelweiss” any longer because of his pent-up emotion. ‘Maria’ asks the “audience” to help by singing the song with him. We had printed the request and lyrics in the program so they knew this would be coming. I was sitting in the house for the first preview and my heart was pounding as we got to this moment. Darcy Fehr, who was playing ‘The Captain’, acted the moment with such honesty that one wasn’t sure if his stopping was really a part of the show or not. But with ‘Maria’ going to him and then facing the audience and making the request, everything seemed to flow into another reality. Don (Horsburgh), our Conductor, turned to the audience as the song’s intro began again and conducted them. There was no hesitation on the part of the 2,600 people under the dome. They sang! All those voices together could have been overwhelming, but the sound was so gentle, encouraging, hopeful. I began to get choked up. At the little bridge section – “blossoms of snow …” – they spontaneously broke into harmony. The sound was ethereal, so heartfelt. There must have been a lot of Mennonites steeped in the choral tradition in the house that night (and all the nights to come) – because there was no holding back as the little song grew and grew. It was so amazing. The applause at the end was remarkable … they were applauding for themselves – inside the show!
Opening night was a marvel. Everything and everyone came together seamlessly. The cast was on the money. The sets moved smooth as glass (something that was even mentioned in the reviews) and the orchestra sounded incredible. The audience went nuts and that was the state of affairs every night of the run. The party afterward was a huge high as the praise for everyone came fast and furious. The “powers that be” were over the moon. It was a show I was incredibly proud of. It was a mature, sophisticated and very clean production, and each time I went back it was exactly the same. I couldn’t have asked for more.
One other thing that happened opening night was that Ken offered me “The Full Monty” to direct for them the following Winter. I had lost hope on that project because he’d offered it to Bill Robertson earlier in the year. But it turned out that Bill had some conflicts that couldn’t be rearranged. So, with the news of a few weeks earlier that I’d been cast in “The Importance of Being Earnest” at MTC, my upcoming season was well in hand. I’d also been working on another assignment I’d been given by MTC to come up with “an entertainment” for their 50th Anniversary Celebration. Trying to decide how to approach this important milestone had had me in a tailspin for a while now, but I thought I was getting closer to having it figured out.
Just after “SofM” closed, I decided to take some time off. I’d been going heavy since the Spring and needed a bit of “me time”, so, with Teresa, and my heart in my hands, I jetted out to Victoria, BC. to see Mom who had moved out there earlier in the year. The circumstances surrounding that move are complicated and a little fraught. Over time, Mom had been considering a change from the life she’d been used to in Toronto and, with the departure to the West Coast of her close friend and companion Bob, she decided it was time to make that change. I was of two minds about this. Mom’s memory had been failing, and now the upheaval of a move to an unfamiliar environment would, I thought, only accelerate her condition. A trip to Victoria might help put my mind at ease about a move. It didn’t exactly work out that way and only left me feeling that I would need to do something more specific and concrete about how to maintain my connection with Mom. I returned to Winnipeg with a new set of thoughts about my future, personally and professionally.
The plans for MTC’s 50th had been in the works in-house for some time before they’d asked my input. The Theatre had already approached a number of people about their involvement, so our first official meeting was aimed at amalgamating what they needed and what I thought should happen. I’d prepared a timeline and now presented it to them. We still had to wait to find out whether the folks they’d invited would be there in person or send “recorded messages” to be played throughout the evening. They’d asked Tom Hendry, one of the Theatre’s founders, to formally welcome the audience, and had approached some big names – Keanu, Judd Hirsh, Martha Henry, Len Cariou – along with other familiar performers to contribute. My ideas for the “entertainment” went over well. As an overall theme, the show would be a tribute, a 5- decade arc that would highlight performances from various high profile productions. The opening “number” would celebrate all 78 productions presented during the first decade … in under five minutes! How? I didn’t know, but the idea seemed to catch everyone’s imagination, so we went for it. We would take famous lines from each of these shows and have them spoken by six actors arrayed across the front of the stage reading from long rolls of paper as a clock projected on a screen behind them counted down the allotted time. Richard Ouzounian would then speak for a bit after which Steven (Schipper) would come out to “host” the rest of the evening. There would be some musical numbers and some scenes and what ever else I could inject into the presentation. That was the idea … in theory.
Then “Full Monty” took over my life for a bit. As always, as soon as I’d been given the project, my focus became casting. “Full Monty” requires a larger cast with a sextet of men playing the crucial, and large, roles, men who would be up for anything included “baring it all” at the end of the show. There were certain requirements with regard to “type”, very diverse specifics with regard to size, age, colour and personality. Finding those exact guys at home would be a challenge.
Our first Winnipeg audition went extremely well. Fifty people turned up, 35 of whom were men. The quality of talent exceeded my expectations, but it became obvious that we’d have to head down East for more specific choices. Which is not to say the Winnipeg guys were below par … it was those physical type requirements that didn’t come up to the mark. One of the characters, ‘Horse’, must be an older Black man. I knew that part was going to be a major challenge to find in Winnipeg. Early in the selection process, Rainbow President Campbell McIntyre suggested we approach Khari Jones. Khari had been a quarterback for the Winnipeg Blue Bombers for a number of years before retiring, and had maintained a huge following because of his involvement in the community while a player and now as a football commentator for the CBC. I learned that he’d majored in Theatre and Dance while at UCDavis in California, so Cam’s suggestion was on the mark … academically. I approached him via the new social media platform called “Facebook” and was amazed when he got back to me. He told me that he’d been approached by a Theatre in Calgary to do the show in October, but had to turn them down because of his duties with the CBC during the season. But with our production happening after the football season, he would talk to his family about doing it. I was now waiting to find out about that. He would generate an incredible amount of press and excitement. I held my breath.
During my trip to Victoria and away from the familiar, I relaxed. I mean, really relaxed. I was about to turn 62. My Future always seemed to just be there, a new project, a job, a role, an opportunity, things that moved me through Time. But of late, and I don’t know why, I’d become aware of “this” not lasting forever. Would it be a case of not being asked anymore, not being able to do it anymore or not wanting to do it? I needed to somehow be in control of that, and all the practicalities involved. With Mom noticeably starting to slowly, very slowly … fade, I needed to redefine that part of my life. She lived so far away, and I was so tied down to MSI and the next “job”. The two didn’t seem to mesh. But if nothing else, my time in Victoria allowed me to see what a glorious place this was. Putting it all together, I mentioned it to Mom and Teresa. Mom got very excited about the prospect of my living nearby. Teresa was supportive and considerate in her thoughts. I knew this new perspective was probably going to colour a lot of my thinking in the time ahead and I also knew that sooner rather than later, I was going to have to bring all this up with Sam. I didn’t know how I was going to broach that. I’d not made any decisions so it could wait. But it percolated under the surface. A lot.
“The Full Monty” (or “the whole thing” in British slang”) had been musicalized shortly after its film debut in 1997 with its setting switched from Sheffield, England to Buffalo, New York. The change of locale addressed the problem of Yorkshire accents for the actors and that was one less thing to worry about. I needed specific “types” and found some of them at home. Khari and I had some further conversations but ultimately, it wasn’t going to work out for him. I was massively disappointed but had to move on. In Winnipeg, we landed on Jeremy Koz as the lead, ‘Jerry’, Gord Tanner as ‘Harold’, Marc Devigne as ‘Malcolm’ and Jeff Kohut as ‘Ethan’. All great guys. We cast all the ladies with no problem – Stacey Nattrass, Debbie Maslowsky, Melanie Whyte and some powerhouse vocalists to round out the cast Principals. We headed to Toronto over a weekend and found Mantee Murphy to play ‘Horse’, the role already under his belt after the Stage West production in Calgary. At the same time, we received a killer video from the great Steve Ross. I told Ken to hire them all right away … I didn’t want any defections … and that was it. I was happy and excited, but Oscar Wilde was calling me.
James Dodding, an elderly Englishman (and I use that description in the best of all possible senses) was our director. He had taught Stephen Shipper a long time ago and that was probably the reason he’d been given the task at MTC. It became very clear very quickly that James’ way of directing was not something we were familiar with in this part of the world, at least not to this assemblage of folk. I was taken aback at the detail with which James approached the blocking in our first meeting. My entrance at the very top of the show as ‘Algernon’s’ houseman ‘Lane’ was to set up a very large tea service in the elegant sitting room. Alone on stage, I held forth following James’ orders. “On this word, you turn your head to the left and walk three steps forward, pick up the cups on this word, walk toward the table, circle downstage and set them down to the right of the napkins” was one of his directions to me! It was a very long and involved session to stage this opening sequence, but it worked out very well. I loved working this way, and it seemed that I was now his golden boy for being so attentive. I could hardly wait to see how everyone else was going to react to his directing style. I didn’t have to wait long. Everyone was accommodating for a few days, but by the end of the first week, it was clear that there were going to be some turbulent times ahead. I guess word had spread about the burgeoning discontent because during the second week, Robbie (Paterson, our Assistant Director) was in the room sussing out what was going on. In the days that followed, the mood got darker and darker and more and more intense. The “discussions” (read arguments) with James’ about his approach, although relatively polite, were indicative of something a bit more combative bubbling beneath the surface. James continued to meticulously detail the scenes which was now driving folks pretty well crazy – the stopping and starting and repeating with each physical movement being examined and honed. It culminated one afternoon in Mike (Shara, playing ‘Algernon’) losing it, falling to his knees in an emotional plea to James to “just let me work!!” and then running from the room. I was not a part of those “discussions” with the other cast members, so I was now taken unawares to hear the commotion and see him dash to the exit. I thought perhaps he’d had some bad news from home. I asked Mairi Babb, playing ‘Cecily’ what was going on. “He’s very unhappy”, she said. I sensed that the rest of the cast was feeling the same way, but I was oblivious to it. My scenes were few and far between and the detailing didn’t bother me. In fact, I kind of liked it if only because it was like choreography, and I was quite used to that. It only got worse.
The cast was in camps. I was very much on the outside of all these dynamics and wanted it to stay that way. I had my business down to a gnat’s eyebrow and just followed the patterns James had given me. In fact, once we opened, this seven minutes-long, one-man production number-like opening sequence of setting the up the gigantic tea service, got a round every night as I stopped at the edge of the stage, took a satisfied look at my work, turned and smiled slyly at the audience and I walked off set. It was great fun. While there were some who went with the flow during the rehearsals, there were others (the out-of-towners from “the East”, actually) who took great exception as to how the show was being put together and let their feelings be known at every opportunity. How this was all going to land was, at this point, anyone’s guess!