The Real Inspector Hound - A Story, Of Sorts
Everybody who knows me knows that I adore the theater. I'm fascinated by how something that takes so much work and time and love can culminate in a blaze of glory, and yet completely disappear in a couple of hours.
I've also loved pretty much every play I've been in, in some way. Sure there have been those that made me want to tear my hair out (Superstition) and those in which I had a role that lasted about 3 minutes (The Man Who Came To Dinner) but they still had some of that "theater magic" that sticks with me even today.
There are memories you make with a cast that don't come close to anything else. Something about spending a few hours every weeknight, doing the same thing over and over until you all know each other's lines but for some reason still can't remember your own, or laughing about the same idiotic jokes backstage brings a group of people together.
The Real Inspector Hound was my first college show, and is now one of my favorites. Since it's by Tom Stoppard, there's a whole lot of self-reflexive-meta-theatre-crap, but presented in a way that somehow DOESN'T make me want to throw my program onto the stage, scream a little about pretension in the performing arts and storm out. Oh, and a crapton of puns and dry British humor.
There may be those of you nodding and rolling your eyes and thinking "Oh, Hanners, you WOULD love something like that."
But there's more to it than that. The people who were part of my cast made an already cool show REALLY FUCKING AWESOME.
There was Sami, my roommate, who had expected to get the role that I ended up being cast in, because that was what she always ended up being. Instead, she got the foxy, dangerous femme fatale, and rocked it.
Pretty good shot of yours truly, too. Dat hair.
Oh right, the slapping. Did I mention that happened? Yeah. A lot. Poor Warren. And Turner.
There was Warren, who will forever remain in my mind as the most endearing sleazeball to ever cross my path. Oh, he was typecast all right, but he made the role of a fusty, philandering theater critic really shine.
There was Mira, a veteran of the Beloit theatre department who has got to be one of the sweetest, most self-assured people I've ever met. She did things with her character that I never would have DREAMED of, and nearly made all of us break character during multiple performances.
This particular shot is from a scene where she did pretty much everything possible that there is to do with the simple action of pouring coffee. One notable night, she poured the coffee and cream excruciatingly slowly, stared at the owner of the cup, and proceeded to breathe over it.
I had marks in my hand that night from pinching myself so as not to laugh.
Turner was another veteran, and a cross-country runner, who brought a vaguely British, nasal accent to the role of Simon Gascoyne that made him, if possible, even smarmier. He also did a great job making the character slightly dim, as this picture quite perfectly demonstrates.
So much derp going on in this picture.
There was also Paul, who I've mentioned before, whose performance as the crotchety Major Magnus (and, spoilers, Albert and Puckeridge) had all of us rolling every time. It takes some serious balls to be pushed backward at frightening speeds in a wheelchair onto the stage, and this guy did it EVERY NIGHT.
There was Alen, a Bosnian exchange student, and a magnificent comic actor. His sense of timing was marvelous, and, like Mira, he found unexpected things to play around with. I have to admit that the accent was adorable, too.
Not pictured: The Swamp Boots, which took up at least 2 or 3 minutes of an "awkward silence" gag that had the audience absolutely rolling.
And finally, Ben, arguably the star of the show. He definitely had the most lines, anyway. This kid started memorizing as soon as we got our scripts, and he made Moon the most fabulously pompous, catty, and vindictive second-string critic he could be. Unfortunately, I only have a few of the official pictures, none of which contain him, but there is an image that, while excellent, takes some explaining.
Due to the mind-fucking nature of the show, Ben had a running gag of, every time our director, Jon, would reveal something particularly earth-shattering, clapping his hands together, spreading his arms, and whispering ominously: "Inceptionnnn."
It became a joke among the cast, to the point where Ben wouldn't even have to say anything, we'd all just look at Jon and he'd shake his head and grin and chuckle "Goddammit."
Of course, when the time for getting the director a gift rolled around, we agreed that something Inception-themed would be suitable.
After much debate, we settled on a movie poster, which Ben put entirely together out of photos surreptitiously gotten from the official photographer in Photoshop.
The result?
And you can see Ben's smug little face just to the left of Paul. Beautiful. I first saw this image while I was in the library, and basically needed to shove my fist in my mouth to hold in the laughter.
So that was my high school theater experience! Overall positive, and with lots of memories. :)
Now who's ready for Thanksgiving? I am.
I've also loved pretty much every play I've been in, in some way. Sure there have been those that made me want to tear my hair out (Superstition) and those in which I had a role that lasted about 3 minutes (The Man Who Came To Dinner) but they still had some of that "theater magic" that sticks with me even today.
There are memories you make with a cast that don't come close to anything else. Something about spending a few hours every weeknight, doing the same thing over and over until you all know each other's lines but for some reason still can't remember your own, or laughing about the same idiotic jokes backstage brings a group of people together.
The Real Inspector Hound was my first college show, and is now one of my favorites. Since it's by Tom Stoppard, there's a whole lot of self-reflexive-meta-theatre-crap, but presented in a way that somehow DOESN'T make me want to throw my program onto the stage, scream a little about pretension in the performing arts and storm out. Oh, and a crapton of puns and dry British humor.
There may be those of you nodding and rolling your eyes and thinking "Oh, Hanners, you WOULD love something like that."
But there's more to it than that. The people who were part of my cast made an already cool show REALLY FUCKING AWESOME.
There was Sami, my roommate, who had expected to get the role that I ended up being cast in, because that was what she always ended up being. Instead, she got the foxy, dangerous femme fatale, and rocked it.
Pretty good shot of yours truly, too. Dat hair.
Oh right, the slapping. Did I mention that happened? Yeah. A lot. Poor Warren. And Turner.
There was Warren, who will forever remain in my mind as the most endearing sleazeball to ever cross my path. Oh, he was typecast all right, but he made the role of a fusty, philandering theater critic really shine.
There was Mira, a veteran of the Beloit theatre department who has got to be one of the sweetest, most self-assured people I've ever met. She did things with her character that I never would have DREAMED of, and nearly made all of us break character during multiple performances.
This particular shot is from a scene where she did pretty much everything possible that there is to do with the simple action of pouring coffee. One notable night, she poured the coffee and cream excruciatingly slowly, stared at the owner of the cup, and proceeded to breathe over it.
I had marks in my hand that night from pinching myself so as not to laugh.
Turner was another veteran, and a cross-country runner, who brought a vaguely British, nasal accent to the role of Simon Gascoyne that made him, if possible, even smarmier. He also did a great job making the character slightly dim, as this picture quite perfectly demonstrates.
So much derp going on in this picture.
There was also Paul, who I've mentioned before, whose performance as the crotchety Major Magnus (and, spoilers, Albert and Puckeridge) had all of us rolling every time. It takes some serious balls to be pushed backward at frightening speeds in a wheelchair onto the stage, and this guy did it EVERY NIGHT.
There was Alen, a Bosnian exchange student, and a magnificent comic actor. His sense of timing was marvelous, and, like Mira, he found unexpected things to play around with. I have to admit that the accent was adorable, too.
Not pictured: The Swamp Boots, which took up at least 2 or 3 minutes of an "awkward silence" gag that had the audience absolutely rolling.
And finally, Ben, arguably the star of the show. He definitely had the most lines, anyway. This kid started memorizing as soon as we got our scripts, and he made Moon the most fabulously pompous, catty, and vindictive second-string critic he could be. Unfortunately, I only have a few of the official pictures, none of which contain him, but there is an image that, while excellent, takes some explaining.
Due to the mind-fucking nature of the show, Ben had a running gag of, every time our director, Jon, would reveal something particularly earth-shattering, clapping his hands together, spreading his arms, and whispering ominously: "Inceptionnnn."
It became a joke among the cast, to the point where Ben wouldn't even have to say anything, we'd all just look at Jon and he'd shake his head and grin and chuckle "Goddammit."
Of course, when the time for getting the director a gift rolled around, we agreed that something Inception-themed would be suitable.
After much debate, we settled on a movie poster, which Ben put entirely together out of photos surreptitiously gotten from the official photographer in Photoshop.
The result?
And you can see Ben's smug little face just to the left of Paul. Beautiful. I first saw this image while I was in the library, and basically needed to shove my fist in my mouth to hold in the laughter.
So that was my high school theater experience! Overall positive, and with lots of memories. :)
Now who's ready for Thanksgiving? I am.