Costumes and Positivity
Last night I went over to Sami's to look at some stuff she offered up for Midsummer costumes. I took the N all the way to the end and walked 8 blocks through Astoria to get to the cute lil' apartment she shares with Silas. Astoria seems quite hipster-y--I loved all the darling restaurants that I passed, even if every other street sign was in Greek! I love my new apartment but the main thing my new neighborhood is missing is RESTAURANTS. I don't cook. I need cute little hipster places where I can order girly drinks and appetizers. (Although I've discovered just a few blocks down from my building, just past 125th Street, which is really 129th at that point, are a bunch of cute, inexpensive places that cater to the Columbia crowd. This is great because I can't always be going to the Dinosaur, as that place always has a line.)
Sami's apartment is ADORABLE. The bathroom has this weird extra space in it where she placed two chairs--I said "Is this like a salon? 'Today's topic is "Democracy in the Middle East"--discuss, while I sit on the toilet.'" She also has this cute lil' nook in the kitchen where she's hung lights and fruit garland and autumn leaves garland. She brought out a huge bunch of clothes and we picked and poked through them. I think we can use a LOT of them for Midsummer--we'll have to see how they look on people but I'm excited. She also gave me some stuff--Sami's taste and mine are somewhat different, hers is a little hippy-er, mine is a little girly-er--but I went for several items, one of which I'm wearing today.
I love that kind of team spirit. I mean, Sami went way out of her way to offer up this stuff for the show, and it really is a huge help. Theater is such a leap of faith, and an off-off venture needs the help and positivity of everyone to succeed. That's exactly the kind of person I would cast again and again, and I make a point of looking for that when I cast. I did a show at the Studio down in DC where one of the interns was very negative and criticizing what the director was doing--we had this terrible musical about the life of Jack Kerouac. Oh God, the original script was awful, complete with the opening number "Growing up in Lowell," with a lyric that actually had the phrase "the laughter and the tears." Doesn't that sound awful? I mean, this is about JACK FREAKIN' KEROUAC--of all subjects, why would you write a conventional musical about HIM? So the director really changed the script (without, uh, consulting the playwright), and asked us all to bring in our own suggestions, from research about his life and writings. We also ditched the score and had a group of jazz singers--who weren't in the scenes--do numbers between scenes, that commented on the action. I cobbled together a monologue from an interview with Luanne Cassidy, Neil Cassidy's first wife (whom I was cast as), and of course found a scene from a short story with a character called The Texas Blonde. Sadly I was FORCED to wear a smokin' hot white bathing suit in that, and do a full cross in high-heeled sandals in a theater in the round. Oh, the SHAME! Anyway as a company we really were operating on the fly, and it was a leap of faith--we were all a little unsure if we'd be shut down on opening night but we thought the work was good.* Except for this one intern who was just. So. Negative. Well, word got back to the director and she ended up being let go. You just can't have that infecting the energy. I think any theater program should force actors to direct or produce at least once, so they know how important positivity is.
*The playwright eventually saw our show, and was a little taken aback but didn't shut us down, and we ended up getting nominated for a bunch of Helen Hayes awards so it was all good.
Anyway--thank God for people like Sami. I'm really glad she and Silas auditioned for this show.
Silas was there with a fellow band member of his, whose name I forget. I said that the next time my cousin Colin is in town (the sax player), he should meet Silas and Mickey. I told Silas that Colin's in a band with the sons of Jaco Pastorious, and he seemed impressed..
Afterwards Sami and I went out to eat at one of the many Greek diners in the neighborhood, and had a long, awesome conversation. Our table was covered by a glass plate with a crack in it, and at one point it cracked much further. (Now that I think about it, it's like the Stone Table in The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe.) As I paid we told the guy who glared at us as though he thought it was our fault--dude, you're the one who seated us as a table with a crack in it!
Sami's apartment is ADORABLE. The bathroom has this weird extra space in it where she placed two chairs--I said "Is this like a salon? 'Today's topic is "Democracy in the Middle East"--discuss, while I sit on the toilet.'" She also has this cute lil' nook in the kitchen where she's hung lights and fruit garland and autumn leaves garland. She brought out a huge bunch of clothes and we picked and poked through them. I think we can use a LOT of them for Midsummer--we'll have to see how they look on people but I'm excited. She also gave me some stuff--Sami's taste and mine are somewhat different, hers is a little hippy-er, mine is a little girly-er--but I went for several items, one of which I'm wearing today.
I love that kind of team spirit. I mean, Sami went way out of her way to offer up this stuff for the show, and it really is a huge help. Theater is such a leap of faith, and an off-off venture needs the help and positivity of everyone to succeed. That's exactly the kind of person I would cast again and again, and I make a point of looking for that when I cast. I did a show at the Studio down in DC where one of the interns was very negative and criticizing what the director was doing--we had this terrible musical about the life of Jack Kerouac. Oh God, the original script was awful, complete with the opening number "Growing up in Lowell," with a lyric that actually had the phrase "the laughter and the tears." Doesn't that sound awful? I mean, this is about JACK FREAKIN' KEROUAC--of all subjects, why would you write a conventional musical about HIM? So the director really changed the script (without, uh, consulting the playwright), and asked us all to bring in our own suggestions, from research about his life and writings. We also ditched the score and had a group of jazz singers--who weren't in the scenes--do numbers between scenes, that commented on the action. I cobbled together a monologue from an interview with Luanne Cassidy, Neil Cassidy's first wife (whom I was cast as), and of course found a scene from a short story with a character called The Texas Blonde. Sadly I was FORCED to wear a smokin' hot white bathing suit in that, and do a full cross in high-heeled sandals in a theater in the round. Oh, the SHAME! Anyway as a company we really were operating on the fly, and it was a leap of faith--we were all a little unsure if we'd be shut down on opening night but we thought the work was good.* Except for this one intern who was just. So. Negative. Well, word got back to the director and she ended up being let go. You just can't have that infecting the energy. I think any theater program should force actors to direct or produce at least once, so they know how important positivity is.
*The playwright eventually saw our show, and was a little taken aback but didn't shut us down, and we ended up getting nominated for a bunch of Helen Hayes awards so it was all good.
Anyway--thank God for people like Sami. I'm really glad she and Silas auditioned for this show.
Silas was there with a fellow band member of his, whose name I forget. I said that the next time my cousin Colin is in town (the sax player), he should meet Silas and Mickey. I told Silas that Colin's in a band with the sons of Jaco Pastorious, and he seemed impressed..
Afterwards Sami and I went out to eat at one of the many Greek diners in the neighborhood, and had a long, awesome conversation. Our table was covered by a glass plate with a crack in it, and at one point it cracked much further. (Now that I think about it, it's like the Stone Table in The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe.) As I paid we told the guy who glared at us as though he thought it was our fault--dude, you're the one who seated us as a table with a crack in it!