jesus christ superstar

Move in yesterday.  Fucking finally.  Our space.  Our real space. Our world.  No more qualifying comments, "when we move in to DHS......"  Done. Over.

Load in was, dare I say, amusing.  Aside from the scaffolding, raked bridge, raked platforms (the bones of the set), and the props, we should be good, right?

Oh hell no.

Again...a surprise designer challenge was thrown to the cast. ("Designnnnnners.  Make it work.")

What the hell was all this extra stuff?  All this metal shit?  All this aluminum siding.  All these...whatever the hell they are.  And by "extra stuff" I mean a shit load.

After lunch (and some cocktails) at c-dubs...g-dubs...z-dubs (not sure what it is), the cast was called again at 2.

For what?  "The set is done, Jesse.  Jesus Christ Superstar...what are you making us do next?"

We reconvened.  The "extra" (but TOTES necessary) "stuff" were the items they were about to use to create their space.  Yes.  They create. Their stuff.  Their space.

And...cut to the usual eye-rolling...everyone off their ass (except Cole who is NEVER on his ass....shout out, duder, you're a-mahzing).  Let's go go go. 5-6-7-8.

The next two hours were so surreal.  The cast knows the show.  What we need when and where.  Given the tools and that knowledge, they got up and got started.

I totally sat back.  Didn't answer ANY questions that were asked.  They figured that out, stopped asking, and...made it work.

Not ONLY did they make it work; they created one of the most personal and connected spaces. Ever.
I was horrified as they started.  But then heard the cast begin to mention all the logistics.

"I have to enter here.."
"We need extra space for 'Contact' here."
"What about the vendors?"
"Wow dude. Creative."
"I think it needs to be off center...force the perspective."

At the end of the day, set completed.  An 8 hour move in day (with a 2 hour break between) ending with a (wink wink) nearly complete set.  A sight to behold. Raw. Grit. Beauty. I sat back after they were done and just stared for at least an hour.  NO amount of chemicals could have created what I was feeling.  None.  Which, if you know me well enough...wait. Filter, Jesse.  Future employers could read this.  Let's just say that empowering the team to take available resources and complete freedom yields positive results.  (I'll expand in interviews future employers...)

Sitzprobe today.  My FAVORITE (of the many) moments in the process.  Such a kick-ass band.  James Jones?  Aaron Bouslog?  Creighton Cole? Jan Voorhees? Belinda?  Off-the-chain Marty?  I'm not gonna lie and say they aren't the best around.  They are.  And talk about re-connections.  Jan Voorhees and I haven't worked together in this context in over 15 years.

We're all lucky.  Till tomorrow.  The excitement for afternoon sorta gives me a boner.

Sorry for the abrupt ending...I have..um...to run to Royal Donut.

Bluntly,
Brigadude

Harvest

My head is swimming.

I, like everyone in our show, am crazy busy.

But I have to take a moment and share my feelings based on rehearsal last night.

Getting a show on its feet is not easy. At all. And, strictly based on my past experiences directing, RENT is a particular challenge.

Given our approach.  Given the wall-to-wall musical score.  Given it's not a carbon copy of Michael Grief's original and now iconic Broadway staging.

The weeks of wood-shedding, piece meal blocking, organic orgasms and created community are now a reality.  And, at a certain point, every community changes.  Not in a bad way. But individual dynamics emerge that change the warmth to various and other essential vibes.  

Here's what I see:

• serious commitment
• confusion
• frustration
• beauty
• discoveries
• going there
• accountability
• worry
• hope
• apathy
• clusterfucks
• terror
• tears
• erections
• black fabric
• life

That shit is community in the true sense.  It's collaboration and compromise.  

And, clearly, it's where we all need to be right now.  I can't explain why.  

I may not be every community member's favorite person right now.  Fine.  I'm good with that.  I may (and have) missed deadlines.  That's life.  I may (and have) pushed individual buttons.  That's life.  I may (and have) high expectations.  That's me.  And worth it; based on my perspective last night.

It's harvest time...in every sense.  Here's where the community kool-aid  kicks in.  The list above, the ego-maniacal paragraph above...proof positive that our amahzing dysfunctional group is dealing.  Coping and adjusting.  Enjoying and understanding the process.

Many cast members have never been in a show. Loves. The harvest (in various contexts) is not easy.  But the crop, well it's some dank and tasty shit.  

Get ready cast, audience, and all involved to pack your bowls and harsh your mellow.  

It's harvest time.

It takes a village, people!

We're deep into rehearsals.

And our community is experiencing the process in different ways.

The principals are doing intense scene work.  In effort to create a tool box to help guide the organic blocking, each principal rehearsal starts with learning a different tool (via many modalities...right, Diamond?) to help add layers, discoveries, revels, and find truth in the material as they work.

The results, damn.  As hard as it is for me to be minimally directive, and leave them alone to find themselves in the scene, it yields some amazing results.  They have worked together, finding new and surprising truth (to all, myself included) in the material, which transforms the nature and tone of the show from a rock concert to a piece of theatre that is relevant, exciting, and challenges the audience into realizing that there is no day but today to celebrate life, AND no day but today to take responsibility, action, and mobilize.  Social issues are no longer invisible, swept under the rug, or silent.  The greatest of revolutions begin within individuals.

So far, the ensemble has been wood-shedding musically.  It is a poperetta, after all.  Tomorrow is all about the bells, bells, bells (thanks Mr. Poe) and I'm excited for days.  Getting this sequence on its feet is going to be an exciting afternoon.  Who knows what is gonna happen?! (LOVES)

Most importantly, tomorrow the process will be a shared experience.

I must acknowledge that without the incredible team and their amazing work, we wouldn't be where we are in the process.

Marty and Belinda.  The backbone; from the start, even prior to rehearsals.  Professional. Fearless. Educators. Heart. Insight. Brilliant.  I've said this before, but the sounds they are drawing from the community are unlike any other I've heard at Upstage.

Jenny, Suzy, Suzzen, Mimi, Gary, Jim, Angie.  The "different" production model (not the DLO norm) is working. It's golden.  These individuals make it work. Trust it. Make it happen. Bring fresh ideas to the table, AND accomplish them.  Talk about mobilization.

It takes a village, people.

Bluntly,
Brigadude

Better than...ice cream

Rehearsal was not what I expected last night.  LOVES.

Listening to the ensemble wood-shed for a solid 90 minutes, then listening to sounds I've never heard at Upstage...well it was better than...ice cream.

So, dripping with sweat, and a feeling of major progress - the ensemble was done for the night.  After hours of cleaning, reading, thinking, discussing, sharing, processing and singing (and singing and singing),  they needed time to chill.

I have to say, this is an invested cast.  Hardcore.  The bond I hoped for has grown into (this word is used a lot...because it's true) a community.  A community that can't be facilitated or fabricated.  This shit is authentic.

Check out the blogs (www.rent4change.com). The cast has started (and wants) to share their experiences. Take some time to check them out.  They're better than...ice cream.

So ensemble excused.  The  principals then started digging into their material.

I do concurrent rehearsals at this stage.  Every one's time is valuable.  No sitting around.  For those not working with the music directors, I paired up and had them do scene work on their own.

I'm a bit of a control freak, but allowing individuals (on their own) to work scenes organically after the hours of table work blew me away.  I would check-in with each group.  For example, checking in with Roger and Mark I did a little activity:

"Mary had a little lamb."

Who?
Mary.
What did Mary do?
Had a lamb.
What size?
Little.
So, Mary had a little lamb.
Yes, Jesse.

What were they saying? Anything? Is it getting lost in translation? Are the tunes helping to drive the story, or do they just want to sound like rock stars?

Maureen and Joanne went downstairs and outside.  When I checked in, they were on track. Take me or Leave me?  They stood far apart.  Then nose to nose.  Then organic.  I'm sure the neighbors loved it. Then as time ended , I had them do it again, walking up the huge staircase.  BOOM.

After years of summer stock blocking, I'm learning to let the cast find their own starting point, and just adding a tweak here and there to allow more freedom to explore. Be bold.  Make choices.  High stakes.

Letting go is a challenge, but heeding a-mah-zing results.  And while perhaps (ok, for sure) my control issues will change as we get the show on its feet, last night was better than...ice cream.

Bluntly,
Brigadude

The Veiw

I had a great view for the first sing through tonight.  Sat on top of a ladder.  Watched and studied.  Everyone.

The cast. The musical directors. The stage manager. The producer. The tech director.

All in mode.  On a Sunday afternoon.

The view was certainly church to me.  Every person putting their heart in every moment. Soaking it in.  A glimpse of what is yet to come.

Today was the first time I was able to witness the process.  Was every note or lyric perfect?  No.  Were their joyful moments?  Big time.

That's the spirit that connects me to a higher power.

Many laugh off my philosophy, and chalk it up to being a show queen.  Not so much.  The breath of freshness introduced in the anthem (read:  Seasons of Love) triggered memories of my grandparents.  Gave me hope for all the shit that's happening in my life.  The shit in life we all deal with.  All about perspective.

I never imagined I would request the music director to sing through THAT tune three times.  How cool to watch people take off personal masks and be honest.  Everyone, despite their circumstances, in the same room, going there.  

It was a great view.

Bluntly,
Brigadude

Circles

Circles.  They are powerful.  They provide a sense of safety and support conducive to listening and sharing.  It's been a crazy ass week.  Circles at rehearsals (wiki wiki wiki RENT)  provided opportunity to leave my shit at the door.  Meet myself in the present.  Breathe.

At the end of the night, we do a check-in round.  Each person expresses how they feel at that moment in one word.

"Hopeful."

"Enlightened."

"Excited."

"Ready."

I was totes on the same page (hopeful, enlightened, excited, ready).  The exact opposite frame of mind I walked into Upstage with.

Circles.  They are powerful.

Time to sing!

We've done quite a bit of table work, in fact that's all we've done for a week.

The cast (and myself) are still making connections as we flesh out the characters, the seasons, the understandings. The seasons. Oh! I said that already...I meant the seasons (hello act II).

We process at the end of each rehearsal, which has been my favorite part.  So many reactions, angles.  The ideas behind each revelation cast members bring to the table inform the characters. And the show. 

The discussions during breaks (don't they always happen then?) are fascinating.  I listen and hear.  And contribute of course, but mostly listen. 

"Time to sing!"

"This show is some powerful shit."

"Time to sing!"

"I tend to nod off a bit."

"Time to sing!"

Our table work finale ends Thursday, where we'll really get a chance to listen to the show!  I've never used this device (though not uncommon), but on Thursday, I'm going to have different individuals read different roles, not their own.  

After many hours of focusing on the story, what it means, making discoveries...listening to others read their role, adding a different perspective, will enhance the overall comprehension.  Yes, each character will be different.  But the theme and heart of the show will be illuminated.  

Plus, I think the cast will enjoy it.  Seriously.  It's non-threatening.  It changes things up.  And will transfer a lot of the discussion points into the show. 

"Will I lose my dignity?" was an audition side.  One music director said, "these are questions."  That brought honesty to the material, and the casting peeps fought back tears.  

This is a poperetta. Music drives the story.  Our grasp on the material allows the incredible music directors to dig deeper,  bring life to the show, and connect it to truth through music....as only they can.  Loves!

Yeah, Totes time to sing.

Bluntly,

Brigadude

Fire fire burn - burn yes!

When the cast recording for RENT was released in 1996, I was all over it.  Bigtime.  In my car.  At home.  With show choirs I worked with.  Shortly, I knew every word. Every song.  I heard the score, sang along, and thought it was cool as hell.  At some point, like after a year, I put it away and continued my lifelong quest into musical theatre geekland (WAY better than Disneyland, by the way). I think SHE LOVES ME was my next obsession.

Fast forward almost 20 years.

Getting a chance to work on a production of the show, I, instead of just hearing and bopping along with the score, actually listened to it (thank you David Cromer). Read the libretto. And was literally shocked by the material. The issues presented (and fleshed out - to a degree) opened my eyes, and provided me the opportunity to share the show through a completely different lens. A gritty lens. A lens that is totes different than the original production, which lost a lot in translation.

Scott Miller (the badass of musical theatre at new line theatre in St. Louis) notes that rock music is not inherently theatrical.  Songs are repetitious.  The melody, not the lyrics, drive the show.  So, audiences leave the theatre remembering some kick-ass songs, with no clue of what the show was about.

So, at our first read-thru last night, we did a read-thru (sans the cleaning). No music.Text only. It was a challenge to move beyond the rhythms we all knew from the songs, but it happened.

At the conclusion of act one, we processed.  Cast members were struck by the story. The conflicts within. The reality. "I never knew that Roger..." "I never realized Angel..." "I can't believe that Benny...". Light bulbs everywhere.  No push back about not singing through the show.  Everyone was listening and learning.

After a smoke break, act two began.  Same deal, but very emotional. Tears. Not because of the lovely Seasons of Love melody, but understanding what it means. Sunsets. Cups of coffee. Savor the moments we forget as we move about our lives.

As we ended act two, I threw a bone about the prevalence and significance of the reoccurring theme of fire. Will you light my candle? Light up a mean blaze with posters and screenplays.Truth like a blazing fire; an eternal flame. The fire is out anyway.

That clearly struck a chord.  Responses and connections went places I never imagined.  I was in awe at how one read-thru spoke to each individual.

We will continue our journey into the heart of  RENT with all table work next week, and moving beyond hearing  to listening.

Fire. Burning. Blazing. Eternal.

Bluntly,
Brigadude

Jump in With Both Feet

Tonight was our first rehearsal.  The read-thru.  Traditional awkward evening of stumbling through the material, slowly processing first impressions of fellow cast members, figuring out where you'll fit in, etc.

Ok.  Lies a Minnelli.  Yes, it was our first rehearsal. Minus the read-thru.

It was cray-cray hot today.  The dirty, wonderful old-school rehearsal space I insisted upon using was near 100 degrees.  As the cast entered the space, which was crammed full of set peices from the past 6 shows, the looks of confusion started.  What the hell?  There's not even enough room to walk around, let alone rehearse.

Some found chairs to sit, others had to stand.

I greeted the cast and ignored their confusion.  I encouraged everyone to check out the space...explore if they could find a path.  We reconvened, and I asked what they thought was going to happen in the next 3 hours.  Someone said (with misery), "we're going to clean the space."  B-I-N-G-O.

I've directed a few shows and never, I mean never, had a cast look at me with venom.  They were pissed. All that shit. Daunting.  All that heat. Oh, hell no.  They were there for a read-thru. Not manual labor.

The go-to set builder of DLO began with the tasks.  "We need 3 folks to organize the prop rooms."  "We need 6 folks to haul two heavy metal desks and 4 file cabinets down a huge staircase and into a flatbed."  "We need 4 folks to sort lumber."  "We need 5 folks to breakdown set pieces." And on and on.

Again, with venom, the cast divided themselves up and began working.  It was salty.  Epic fail on the team-building activity.

15 minutes into the process, everyone was sweating through their shirts.  With heavy heads and brand new work gloves, it was pretty silent.  30 minutes into the process, things were looking up. The space was changing, and the chatter began.  Even some laughs.  An hour into the process, everyone was finally on-board.  They were working their asses off and proud of the accomplishments achieved in a pretty short period.  They decided to jump in with both feet.

It was amazing. They found the groove.  Opened up.  Started yelling for drills.  Asking a million questions. Helping each other figure out how to empty the janky vacuum. And by each other, I mean everyone in the room; cast and production team.  The rehearsal space was being created.  Not by a group of salty individuals, anymore...by a community.

To maintain momentum, I made a beer and soda run (there are a few under 21 cast members).  Jesus Christ Superstar.  It maintained the momentum, the tasks were completed, then everyone was excused for the night.

Here's the trippy part.  After being excused, nearly everyone stayed...and not just for the beer.  We skipped name intros at the start, but through this shared experience, we learned names organically.

No awkward stumbles through show material.  No time for first-impressions or wondering where you'll fit in. No need to even label it as a team-building activity.  The sweaty, tired, dirty, exhilarated, and bonded community met a goal and facilitated change.  Change is change.  Be it social change, or changing a space to meet our needs.

Bottom line, change happened when we jumped in with both feet.  It was fan-fucking-tastic.

Bluntly,
Brigadude

c-o-m-m-u-n-i-t-y

RENT is all about community.  A community of love.  A community of encouragement.  A community of dramas. A community of resolutions.

Auditions. Freakin finally.  No more FacePlace shares.  Let's do the work.

Material dictated the form of auditions.  Content dictates form, right Mr. Sondheim? Our process ended up being pretty kick-ass.  Humane.  Actually prompted support and encouragement among auditionees.

It started with everyone in a circle. On your turn, step into the circle and rip your acapella jam.  Took the pressure off.  No one was out for blood.  At all.  Everyone was on the same boat, taking the same ride. They had each other's back. The circle was a community.

The rounds following, same vibe.  Emotional.  Personal.  Connected.  Another level of  community.

Casting complete.

Sudden needed changes based on honesty arise.  Quick changes made.  Fixxed.

I'm thinking the safety to voice honesty was based on the established community.

I wonder if community had something to do with the thoughtful, rapid and smooth resolution.

Circles of support. Connected. Safety. Thoughtful. Smooth.  This is the community I get to live in, 3 days a week, for the next few months.  Loves.

Kinda different than the world we live in, huh?

So now lets count how many times the word "community" is in this post.  I counted 10.

Our first "table read" on Tuesday is gonna amp up this community (#11). For days.

You'll see.

Bluntly,
Brigadude

Back Home

DLO rehearsal space has floated many times over the years.  Currently, they rehearse at a nice cozy space in the mall.

Growing up, all shows rehearsed at what is now the scene shop.

One of my first demands (ha!) taking on this project - no rehearsals at the mall.  Back to the wonderful gritty, dirty space (the scene shop) where our peasant feast and gathering took place today.

It's great to be home.

While no one touched my hot dog bun, tomato sauce and Italian blend cheese pizzas (most opted for the fruit pizza...present company included) the platform of our community started to emerge.  Pretty amazing how a little food, like-minded individuals (new and regs), and shared personal connections to the material enhance a dialogue.

Sure the music directors solidified what sides they planned to use.  Sure everyone signed the liability waivers. Sure set design decisions were made.

The shift in energy changed suddenly.  I took out a blue suitcase filled with all the clothing and items I could buy from the Humane Society for under 10 dollars.  It was a little experiment for myself.  Wow. It was far from a little experiment. It was a privilege dripping, sick to my stomach, emotion trumping logic thrift store shopping trip. Talk about intent versus impact...

Here I was, at the Humane Society, "playing" homeless. It hit me as soon as I started "shopping."

Well I need this coat for a rainy day. These pants I can cut off for summer shorts. How lucky! The one pair of men's shoes they had almost fit. Score! I must have that hoodie so I can layer.  Where are the belts?  It's bedazzled, but it fits.

"Are you fucking kidding, Jesse?"  Raced through my mind. Over and over.  I totally was playing homeless. For fun.  Such a clear example of how not thinking about the oppressed is a luxury of privilege.  I mean, I don't think about my mobility...until I break my leg.

The room was nearly silent as I did a fashion show of the garments I purchased.  Everyone got the point.

We must use our privilege with integrity. Today. No day but today.

Bluntly,
Brigadude

Paper to Practice

Scott Miller at New Line Theatre (newlinetheatre.com) is who I want to be when I grow up.  He's the artistic director of New Line: The bad boy of musical theatre. In St. Louis. Incredibly smart. He does it all.  Writes books. Premieres shows direct from Broadway. Trusts material completely through a completely different lens. Illuminates truth onstage.  Just too cool for school.

He also offers the option for anyone involved in a New Line show to blog their experience.  

Hence the first blogs for a DLO show.  (woo WOO woo woo)

So, RENT. Some edgy shit for Danville. Gonna skip the community theatre dramas that made it happen because it's happening.

Auditions are tomorrow.  Well, feels like tomorrow.  But totes relaxing. The luxury of getting to focus entirely on the show with logistics in the hands of a primo artistic staff...loves.  I'm lucky as hell.  

DLO has a sort of formula.  Sorta stale.  This journey is already shaking things up. In a good way.

After the break, I'll be back to tell you about the staff meet and greet and peasant feast.  Should be a trip. A good trip.

Bluntly,

Brigadude