Jenntertainment’s Weblog

Oh yes, we also announced the cast of Seussical, Jr at class this afternoon. Today we only had one student openly cry about their role, instead of the usual three or four. This marks today as a great success.  

Casting a show is depressing. No matter what you do, somebody cries. Nobody likes rejection or disappointment, yet you can’t have a show without it. It took two bottles of wine and a Party Bag of dark chocolate M&Ms for Megan and I to cast this one, which by our standards means ’very difficult.’ On the surface, it would appear that whoever does a great job gets a great part and whoever does a mediocre job gets a mediocre part. Not so. Let me break this down into categories.

1) Great kids with great talent and great personalities. Tricky to manage for many reasons. You like them personally and professionally, but you want them to grow up as fully rounded human beings familiar with both the joy of acceptance and the sorrow of rejection. You want them to experience not getting ‘the part,’ but you certainly can’t punish them for being talented. You have to push them harder every time because ‘good’ comes easily to them, but you know that they could achieve ‘great.’

2) Great kids with great personalities who have yet to find the courage to reach their on-stage potential. Also difficult to cast because you want to give them opportunities that allow personal discovery and growth, but you never know what kind of performance you’ll get. They could rise to the top like cream and give you a brilliant run, or they could drown themselves in the fear of failure and shut down completely. They need lots of hugs.

3) Irritating kids with great talent.  You have to love them, but you also have to count backwards from ten before you say anything to them. You love to see them on stage where you believe that their true personalities are revealed, but they can be terribly difficult to work with. The irritating qualities can usually be removed by taking an additional dose of their medication(s) after school and before rehearsal.

4) Kids who are too talented to follow direction. These kids usually have amazing potential, but don’t believe that they need improvement. You want to see them succeed in starring roles, but they are a high risk. You just don’t know how they will play with others or what they will do in front of an audience when adrenaline takes control.

5) Dark, brooding, troubled artistes who don’t like sports or socialization and believe the theatre to be the last remaining vestige of truth in this world. This is a very heavy burden for a twelve-year-old. They want so badly to belong to something, yet they isolate themselves so successfully. You try very hard to give them what they want,  but getting so much as a whisper or a raised eyebrow can be harder than getting a special order at Taco Bell.

Of course, all of these have many subcategories, but that would be too lengthy and detailed even for me. I try very hard to give everyone a feature – just one moment in every show where all eyes are on them. For every show, my hope is that we’ve given every kid an experience that makes them better performers, better friends, better thinkers and better supporters of the arts in an increasingly artless world. Is that so much to ask?

Oh, man, I cannot get enough of that Stuff White People Like blog. I just read today’s article on ‘funny music’ with a picture of Flight of the Conchords…who just happen to be one of my favorite duos!

I also cannot get enough Project Runway. Of the tv shows that I like, this is the only one that survived the writer’s strike (the others being Pushing Daisies and Samantha Who?, although West Wing or Sex & the City reruns still captivate me) and is probably the only ‘reality show’ that I’ve ever followed. On the previous episode, one contestant used human hair extensions to trim some of his outfits – pardon – ‘garments,’ and everyone was appalled. Tim Gunn actually gagged. Honestly, what makes wearing human hair worse than wearing animal fur? Cutting a person’s hair doesn’t hurt them, provided you aren’t Samson. Its violence-free, PETA-free, washable and braidable! The possibilities are endless. 

We are now down to three contestants and one final episode, to be aired next Wednesday. Which brings me to my next point:

do not engage me in Project Runway conversation until Monday, March 10, as I will be out of town and missing my beloved programming.

Again, let me emphasize: do not engage. Do not reference New York Fashion Week. Do not use the words ‘draped,’ ‘puckered’ or ‘fierce’ in my vicinity. Do not pass Go.

The upside is, I will be missing the season finale because we are attending SETC (SouthEastern Theatre Conference) in Chattanooga. This is one of my favorite events of any year and I’m already tingling with excitement! Literally, tingling! If anything is worth missing Project Runway for, this is it. Just as long as nobody spills the beans about the winner.

Okay, so I’ve had some time off today (gasp!) and I thought that I would spend it tootling around ‘the world wide interweb’ to see what funny things I may have been missing lately. And now, I share my newfound joy with you fine people that read this blog. Both of you.

http://stuffwhitepeoplelike.wordpress.com/

For some reason, I find ethnic stereotypes to be extremely funny. I don’t mean vulgar or crude jokes, just poking some fun at American culture in general. It may help to know that I grew up in a very diverse environment and didn’t even realize that you could have whole communities of just one race until I was in middle school. Even as a member of the ‘caucasian’ community, I can say that they are, as a whole, an uptight and rhythmless people.

 Funny Thing #2

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EBM854BTGL0 

This girl is just awesome. We hope that she grows up to be a movie critic.

Both of these sites gave me some much-needed smiles today. Now, back to my book.

Ah, the genius of Gilbert & Sullivan. Ah, the brilliance of twelve-year-olds in pirate costumes.

This was, without a doubt, the most fun I have had working on a show at SCT. For a while it ranked a close second to the Alice in Wonderland that we produced last summer, but the pleasure we got out of watching the run tops everything. These kids did astoundingly funny things every night – I’m talking cheek-hurting, eyes-watering funny. They completely “got” the sense of humor of the show and ran with it. I’m tellin’ ya…these are no ordinary middle schoolers. Maybe I’m just biased because I love them, but they really rocked the house. And nobody says ‘rocked the house’ about Gilbert & Sullivan.

Don’t get me wrong; they made some pretty major mistakes, too. I haven’t completely elevated these kids to angelic  status; I merely put them on a short pedestal still within arm’s reach of their tricorner hats. Opening night, one of the General’s daughters knocked over my stage right topiary with her hoop skirt. Tragedy ensued. Not one of my little geniuses even considered the possibility of standing it upright; no, no, the poor little plant became stage roadkill in a matter of seconds, managing to make it all the way across to stage left by the second verse. I cringed from the tech booth. I may have even left some fingernail marks on the railing from when they got offkey on “Poor Wand’ring One.” How eleven people can simultaneously miss their first note is beyond the scope of my understanding. But flaws and all, they pulled through with great aplomb. And much trampling of foliage.

 From the very beginning, Megan and I were excited about the project. We both grew up watching another community theatre producing G&S works, but we were too young to participate in any of them. You could say that we fell in love on the sidelines. While Gilbert & Sullivan were centuries too late to be considered the first satirists, they are arguably the best at making fun of musical theatre. The cast  loved the idea of overacting a ridiculous melodrama, complete with swooning ladies, clumsy pirates and a verbose old man. Maybe our enthusiasm for the script rubbed off on the kids, or maybe the natural zaniness of the students rubbed off on us. Either way, we hit upon a formula that worked.

As rehearsals progressed, it was the students who were saying “hey, wouldn’t it be funny if…” and “dude! what if I did this…” Megan was beyond superb with the musical direction, adding her own offbeat sense of humor and encouraging the m to come up with their own ideas. I think they were blown away by the freedom we gave them to make it their own. There aren’t that many mediums for children or young teens that allow so much liberty to create. When you’re involved in a group activity like that, there’s this wonderful energy that boils up inside of you and just comes bursting forth…in a good way.

Bad notes, missed cues and fumbled lyrics aside, they did the show proud. They tackled a piece of 130 year-old opera and turned it into something that their 21st century peers could appreciate. Not a mean feat, if you ask me. What shall I do next? Who’s up for The Frogs?

The woman handling my paperwork at Social Security just called and asked me to please come into her office before Friday because she accidentally shredded my paperwork and needs me to fill it out again.

Seriously, people? Seriously.

I have a tendency to be lazy about government paperwork, mostly because its boring. Until 2005, changing your name was supposed to be a breeze. There was this handy-dandy line at the bottom of your marriage license where the bride and groom both signed the legal names they would use after their wedding date. Just like that, your name was changed. How convenient! But of course, such convenience cannot be tolerated by the federal government, and the line was erased just in time for my marriage. 

Six months post-nuptials, tired of being a two-name couple, Vann ordered me The Official Name Change Kit, which sat unopened on my desk for about another three months. Suddenly inspired, I finally decided to begin the “Easy 5-Step Process” and triple the length of my last name.

Step 1: Go to County Courthouse

Thrilling. I arrive at the courthouse with my photo I.D. and am shuttled off to the 3rd floor. After filling out a stack of blue forms, I am sent to the 6th floor to fill out pink and yellow copies of the exact same thing.  I arrive back at the 3rd floor with all three colors of paper and then they give me three copies of my marriage license for $25 a piece. Two hours and $75 for three pieces of ordinary white paper with information that I already know printed on it in raised ink.

Step 2: Go to DMV

ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ. One hour and $15 later, I walk out with a new driver’s license stating my new last name. My picture is a stunning replica of myself as a 12-year-old boy. I am now down to two marriage licenses.

Step 3: Go to Social Security Administrations Office

Okay, this is where it gets exciting. The security guard at the front door has been working at this place since – I don’t know - the Truman administration. He gives me a number and points me to the only empty chair in the place; the one right in the center of the middle row, between a pregnant woman with a newborn and a blind man with a seeing-eye dog. Since I assumed that it would be a long wait, I took Mr. Security up on his offer of the only available seat. FOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!! The chair lets out this really embarassing poot-sound when I sit. It’s some kind of faux leather pad with a hole in the side, so when you sit down all of the air comes rushing out to greet you. Every head in the place turns towards me, red-faced and half-squatting over the chair. So I casually crossed to the magazine rack and blamed it on the baby next to me. Being a dumbass, I forgot about the poot-chair after I picked up my Field & Stream and stupidly went and sat in it again. FOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!! All eyes on me. Again.

Well, they finally call my number and – guess what? – my name doesn’t match my Social Security Number. Somehow, my mom’s number got mixed up with mine. So then they had to verify that I was, indeed, myself, verify my mother’s information and then adjust the amount of money paid to Social Security by me since 2001. Instead of applying for a name change, I am now applying for a new Social Security Number under my maiden name so that they can make the appropriate changes. A new card is $12. I shall receive my new card in two weeks. I am now down to only one marriage license because I used the other one for my second form of I.D.

Step 4: Inform Bank, Insurance, Utilities & Everyone Else Who Gets Money from Me about Name Change

Turns out, I need more than three marriage licenses. I go back to the courthouse, visit floors 3, 6 and 3, fill out the tri-colored forms, pay my $75 again and then visit all of the fine people to whom I owe my hard-earned pennies. Vann has to accompany me to almost all of these places and confirm that I am actually his wife and ‘approve’ me. This, I think, is funny. Are there that many women out there trying to add themselves to strange men’s bank or insurance accounts? I have one marriage license left.

Step 5: Return to Social Security Administrations Office

Three months after my initial visit, I finally get my card with the correct number applied to my maiden name. So today I went back to apply for a name change to my number. Mr. Security is there, gives me a number and…you’ll never guess…points me to the SAME empty seat. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. I decline the seat and merely lean up against the wall, feeling all smug. The next girl in the door, however, sits in the poot chair. FOOOOSSSSSHHH! I seriously thought I was going to pee, I laughed so hard.

Two hours later, they call my number, take my $12 and I am, officially, a Doubleday. Do I get a prize?

I make this funny little sound when I exhale. Kind of like that evil white dog on those Hannah Barbara cartoons. Yesterday I asked one of my doctor-friends if he could call me in a one-month prescription of Allegra D to tide me over until I could see my regular physician. Always the Best in Show, he brought me four boxes of samples! Wowzah! This makes me even happier than all the Moose Munch I got for Christmas. Hopefully, it will kick in by tomorrow morning’s Go, Dog, Go rehearsal.

Ah yes, Go, Dog, Go. The epitome of high art and culture, the creme de la creme of moderninity and the best time any Lowcountry preschooler could ask for. Since the play is written for pre-K students, it is wildly A.D.D., switching from one zany activity to another with reckless abandon. We play baseball! We have pillowfights! We climb up trees! We teach primary colors! And yet I can’t stand it. Maybe its because I have been sick both times we’ve produced it. Maybe its because I’m more of a cat person. Or maybe its because of this:

That would be me and three close friends – all great performers in their own right – straddling Playskool cars and wearing primary color ears and tails. The show is about forty minutes long and includes much singing, dancing, revelry, riding of too-small cars and naming of colors for preschoolers who enjoy that sort of thing. There are only 27 different words in the whole script. If you aren’t three, this play may not be your bag. I am cast as Yellow Dog, I think because of my tremendous ability to act like a mentally retarded child. MC Dog gets to do audience participation with the kids, Hattie Dog gets to pop out of a cake and – guess what – wear cool hats, Green Dog gets to skateboard, Red Dog gets to sing and Blue Dog gets to play with powertools…whilst I tap dance on bubble wrap, ride a scooter and identify things that are yellow.

None of the other dogs do that. Identify their own color, I mean. Below is a sampling of my lines.

(While pointing at a luan cut-out  sun) The sun is yellow!

(While pointing at a luan cut-out tree) The tree is yellow!

Etc, etc. I am Special Needs Dog with a color fixation and frequent upper respiratory distress. Please, call me ‘Wheezy.’

***And now for a moment of shameless self-promotion! Go, Dog, Go, a visually stunning musical based on P.D. Eastman’s classic children’s book, will be playing at SCT this Saturday and Sunday at 3pm, as well as several weekends throughout March and April. Tickets are $10 and are available at www.savannahchildrenstheatre.org! Visit any local daycare to receive a coupon worth $3 off the admission price! Woof!***

My dance students at SCT held a raffle fundraiser for an 8GB iPod Nano to support our dance program. The drawing was held yesterday and – hooray! – one of my students won. She is a very sweet girl and I know that it will get a lot of good use. We raised a total of $1,410 for the dance program, which is phenomenal!

What did we do with the money, you ask? Today Vann took me shopping at Audio/Video Warehouse and Circuit City for the majority of ‘the goods.’ We got four in-ceiling speakers, a stereo receiver, 5-disc CD changer, subwoofer and an 80GB iPod Classic for the studio. Best of all, it was tax-free since we are a non-profit! We will finally have a great sound system and I will no longer have to sort through hundreds of CDs just to find that one song. My personal favorite part of the whole package deal is the surround sound. No more straining to hear the beat from floor left while blasting holes in your eardrums on floor right. Because the sound is coming straight down onto the floor, we will probably be much less irritating to everyone else in the building. I always feel sorry for the people who politely ask me to turn down my classical ballet music every day at 4pm. I don’t feel at all sorry that the music may not be their cup of tea, or that it is perhaps disrupting their work; I feel sorry for them because I know that tap class begins at 5pm. Everyone involved in the dance program needs to give Vann a big hug for his technical expertice and for volunteering his time installing the equipment for free. Huzzah!

The rest of the funds will go towards acquiring two taller barres for the more advanced flexibility students, rosin, floor tape, music and costumes. I am half-heartedly considering saving some of the money for the fall and offering Dance Team jackets or warm-up suits or something, but I may just have that included as an option for next year’s dancewear order. All in all, I would say that the fundraiser was a roaring success. I must begin planning the next one right away! Thanks to all who participated. Now I have to go put all these aforementioned ‘hundreds of CDs’ onto my laptop and then transfer them to the theatre’s iPod. The fun just never ends.

Forty-eight hours without my prescription of Allegra D and I am, as Vann says, Snuffelupagus. (SP?) If I needed further proof that I do, indeed, have chronic allergies, this was it.

This is going to be a long night.

Holy cow! Vann got me a new car!

My car was a piece of crap. Honestly. Anyone who ever had the privilege of viewing it, or better yet, being a passenger in it can tell you that. The front passenger door did not open, the driver’s side mirror was being held on with white gaffer’s tape, it had no radio, heating or air, it constantly overheated no matter what we did to it, and for some reason you had to press the powerlock button four times to unlock the two other working doors. My personal favorite? The windshield wipers would simply come on at random and rub the windshield raw. Since September, we have been spending an average of $250 a month on ‘fixing’ it and my $1800 of credit card debt is all due to emergency repairs on that hunk o’ junk. A charming piece of machinery, really.

 Last week, it began to leak antifreeze. So I took it in for it’s monthly visit to the repair shop and instead of my usual $250 with a side of fries, please, it was going to be a whopping $925!! Distressed, I took Vann’s car to work and began calculating how many hours I would have to work my usual streetcorner to come up with the extra cash. After spending 45 minutes on the phone with the manager of Pep Boys, my cell died, leaving me unreachable by mankind since no one ever answers the phone at work. After my classes, I went to my hair appointment at The Riitz (thanks mom!) and when I came out of the salon, Vann was standing in the parking lot with a beautiful ‘Jade Metallic’ 2008 Toyota Yaris and a great salesman named Jeff.

After my initial shock, I kissed my husband, signed away my firstborn child and drove home in my N-E-W car! Many thanks to Vann, Shannon and the fine folk at Savannah Toyota for leading me out of the car ghetto. It is so pretty. I love driving it! I no longer feel embarassed parking in the lots of nice restaurants or driving through rough neighborhoods with kids who have tricked out tricycles worth more than my old Sable. I know you aren’t supposed to be attached to material goods, blah, blah, blah, but I like it. I really, really like it!

Today I hit 200 miles and half a tank of gas. Oh, and it does have that new car smell.