24HPP '07 - "A 'Shroom of One's Own." Part II: "White Rabbit"
By the time leorathesane and I made it to Intermedia Arts (returning to the scene of an old, old crime), fear had taken hold. So many things that seemed hysterical at 1 a.m. seemed now, after a few hours of sleep, the very definition of bad idea. When I found our play in the unremarkable 2nd slot in the first act, trepidation trebled. I slunk around the silent auction, trying to make myself invisible, until the house opened. We managed to snag seats next to Elissa, so at least we could suffer together, and then the house lights went down. I was sealed in to my doom.
Apparently having decided that just watching the plays isn't entertainment enough anymore, TU brought in a couple of local actresses to do some stand-up comedy schtick between plays. I shall not mention their names here, as I respect them a great deal and don't want to malign their good names. Because they were not funny. Someone needs sit down with the theater folk in the Twin Cities and explain to them that putting on frumpy clothes, an accordion, and the hideous accent you pick up from watching Fargo every night for a month, and making jokes about Lutherans, cottage cheese Jell-o molds and the Swede/Norwegian "rivalry" just isn't entertaining. Now that I think of it, someone should tell the same thing to theater-goers, because everyone in the house but Leora and me laughed uproariously at Ole and Lena jokes and at the adorable little rubes' inability to pronounce the names of Uptown businesses. ::gag:: At least it gave me something to focus on besides how badly our play was going to tank.
I continue to be awed by the difference a piece of music can make. A well-chosen song at a well-timed moment can change the atmosphere and set up new expectations. Whoever chose the intro music for the plays Saturday night was clearly a genius. When the lights dimmed before our play, I was a twitching mess. When the opening strains of Jefferson Airplane's "White Rabbit" drifted out to us, Elissa and I burst out laughing, and I relaxed instantly.
As usual, the actors were excellent. Luke Weber as Henry was just really enjoying playing stoned. Terry Bly as Frances was the very picture of a high-strung woman gradually won over by hallucinogens. Tyler Martin as Joel (I swear the man is skinnier every time I see him - and he was scary skinny in the first place) looked like one of those narcs who gets a little too into the role, if you know what I mean. And Kirby Bennett as Bunny was a gem. She perfectly nailed the image of Bunny I had in my head: a classy dame who thought being a secret agent would be glamorous and instead finds herself undercover in a bowling alley. We got some laughs (the platypus line was especially popular), and nobody booed when it was over. Time and resources were too scant to bring off the musical montage bit right - it needed disco balls and trippy lighting and full orchestration to make the "Yes, you are hallucinating all of this" aspect come across. Overall, though, I was pleased - they did far better than I thought possible, considering what we gave them.
The other plays were, as always, a mixed bag. The worst one of the evening was one of the worst I've ever seen. 8 hours is not enough time to write an effective meta-play. The hands-down champion of the evening (in fact, the best I have seen birthed by this event) was Holly Davis and Matthew Everett's "Strike-Split-Spare." The plot is perfect in its simplicity: a bowler who rules on Wednesday during league night throws a game on Friday to assuage her date's ego. The real brilliance: the characters were not the bowlers, but the 1-, 7-, and 10-pins. They were even dressed to look like bowling pins. Truly, you have not experienced theater until you've seen 3 bowling pins fake an orgasm. Truly.
Leora won us the "Cheesy Romance" basket in the silent auction (chocolate, cheap red wine, giant crushed-velvet roses). We rushed to the lobby to find Holly and Matthew and gush over their play, and then we came home and slept. A lot. I had some catching up to do.
Thus endeth the reading of the 2007 24-Hour Play Project. Amen.