LJIdol Week 18 - Blood Harmony
People always ask me if I knew from day one. Or if I should have known.
The short answer is “no.” The long answer is “perhaps.”
To be fair to myself, it was a hectic time.
Casting calls are nerve-wracking for even the most experienced of actors. Casting directors only say they love them because it is their job, and it keeps them paid. Dozens, or even hundreds of people, coming in to read the same lines over and over. Every actor hoping to be chosen. Every director hoping for that spark of light. Every casting reader hoping for it to end.
For musicals, it is just that much more intense. Dancing, singing, and acting are a trio of skills that very few people possess in combination. When you find someone who does, and especially one who also fits the look and style of the role you are casting, it is like coming across a minor miracle. And while you are waiting for that person to come along, you cringe at a lot of lines, you apologize to your eyes during a lot of mediocre moves, and you scream inwardly at a lot of painful notes. For me, as the music director, it was my nightmare.
In creating a musical about the broader Curie family, and expanding upon the reasonable success of the two-person off-Broadway production The Half-Life of Marie Curie, our production company had pulled out all the stops. Aided by my past experience working with her, we landed one of the biggest names in musicals, Dorothy Rae, to play the lead. We had worked together when she was still just young Doreen Rakestraw, before she took the industry by storm. We had become close and stayed in touch over the years. It was a thrill to finally get to work with her again.
Our secondary lead, Andrea Hanson, was a small theater lifer, who was known locally for making the most of small roles. Together, they created a chemistry on the practice stage. Andrea played the role of Irene, a Nobel Prize winner in her own right, and the eldest daughter of Dorothy’s Marie Curie. We had searched a long time to find someone right for Irene, before Andrea came along and won the part.
So when Andrea broke her rib less than a month before opening night, and the same week her understudy let us know she was pregnant, we were beyond distraught. We went scrambling for a replacement, and back into the hell of casting calls. There were rumblings that someone had mentioned that Scottish Play and doomed us all. I must admit, it felt that way at the time anyway.
If, as I mentioned, musical casting calls are intense, replacement casting is a whirlwind like little else. No one wants to delay opening night, so along with all the skills we previously needed, “quick to learn” was also of paramount importance. And nearly impossible to predetermine. We needed a miracle. I needed a miracle.
And I got one in Julie Harford.
Julie showed up to the audition without an agent, and with only a short bio. A couple high school plays. Some musical theater in college. One local production in her hometown of Philadelphia. But she had the look, and she had the drive. She had the voice. And I had no idea.
The perfect story here would be one where the moment she started singing, everyone stopped in their tracks and turned to listen and just knew. But of course, reality is never that simple. I was not even in the room when Julie first auditioned; the first round was left to my assistants. But my understanding is she just barely made the cut, mostly due to her lack of experience. I didn’t hear her sing for the first time until her callback a couple days later for the duets. The choices had been narrowed at that point to four potentials. Since we needed both an Irene and an understudy, they each ostensibly had a 50% chance of being brought on board. Except really, once Julie and Dorothy started to sing together, no one else had any chance at all of being Irene.
No disrespect at all to Andrea, who as previously mentioned was impressive in her own right, or to the other three ladies, but Julie’s audition nearly erased all memory of their existence. She sounded exactly as I had pictured Irene’s voice to be, fitting in with Dorothy’s in a way that only a mother and daughter can. It was as if the two of them were born for the roles. They had an immediate chemistry onstage. And they took to each other right away offstage as well, creating a bond that propelled us towards opening night. Dorothy took Julie her under her wing, and into her apartment, and into her life.
There is a theory in music called “blood harmony” which states that two people singing together who are related by blood will sound more like one person harmonizing with themselves. Dorothy and Julie represented the closest to that notion I had ever seen. It was even more impactful when they were made up to look like mother and daughter for the show. There is a song near the end of the show where mother and daughter sing together of all the discoveries left unmade while Marie is fighting her losing battle with leukemia. That song could break the heart of a dictator. When Dorothy and Julie sang it together, it could even break the heart of a jaded musical director.
When I look back now, it feels like it should have been obvious. Dorothy was a polished gem whose industry accolades spoke for themselves. A true professional. And Julie was by far the easiest person I had ever worked with. She took my notes to heart and implemented changes without need for repetition. She had her lines memorized before some of the regulars, and showed the grace and poise of experience beyond her years. I was witnessing greatness. But I was still blind to the truth.
Within the space of two weeks of rehearsals, we had created a memorable show that really felt like it had a shot. It was commonplace that members of the stage crew forgot themselves and their jobs and became engrossed in the action going on on-stage. I have never admitted to such a lapse, myself, and won’t here either. However, we all knew we had a potential hit on our hands. The ovations on opening night supported that theory.
At the end of our first full week, before the dark theater of Monday, we all went out for a drink. Cast and crew were on cloud nine, and early reviews were making us look at the possibility of an early move towards Broadway. It was a raucous party, lasting until nearly 2am. At the end of the night, I walked the two stars back to their apartment, ostensibly because they were too drunk to go alone, though I was more than a little buzzed myself.
“You know, you two are amazing together. If I didn’t know better, I would think you actually are mother and daughter.” It was meant as a compliment. I wasn’t fishing, and I didn’t know, even that far in. Dorothy just smiled and looked over at me.
“But of course, you know, we are mother and daughter.”
I laughed. They did not. I looked at them questioningly. They remained silent.
It took me another few seconds. Then “light dawned over Marblehead.” Of course. As I said, it should have been obvious.
“How? When?” I was not feeling particularly articulate.
“I figured it out right after she moved in with me. Confirmed it with the adoption agency last week. Julie is my firstborn. From back when I was just starting out. Before I was married. Before I could properly raise a child. Before I was more careful about my career. Always suspected she would find me one day. The fates are funny like that.”
Dorothy’s eyes were wet with encroaching tears. I looked from one to other, light dawning just a little more. Julie stopped walking, then bit her lip and looked up at me.
“Hi Dad.”