Carv's Thinky Blog I'm an author with a focus on satirical science fiction.

8May/130

Pride (In the Name of Baseline Competence)

If I had written this blog entry 36 hours ago, it would've had a very different message and tone. The good folks at Capital Playhouse, an Olympia company devoted almost exclusively to American-style musical theatre, were kind and clever enough to invite me to appear in their spring production of Legally Blonde: The Musical. I say "clever" because I've learned more than I can say here about the complexity and difficulty of staging a professional-quality musical in the time they have to spend on it, and that'll help me keep perspective when I'm writing reviews. I say "kind" because I'm a theatre critic in Oly, and I haven't always been hyper-complimentary about Capital Playhouse productions. I bashed a run of their shows so persuasively that their promotional staffer was obliged to call and beg me for mercy. I hated CP's last Christmas show so profoundly that my review achieved lasting notoriety, yet its director is the one who cast me in Legally Blonde. That poor promotional staffer plays Paulette. They've both been nothing but sweet to me, though I know I've offered reason for concern.

See, I agreed to play Elle's dad with the sole proviso that I could not, should not, absolutely would not dance so much as a single step in the show. This is only to the show's benefit, I assure you, and that's not me having a rare bout of insincere modesty. I am to dancing what Guy Fieri is to haute cuisine. I only wish I had the skills and control of one of those dancing balloons outside a used car lot. The company agreed to let me out of dancing, then immediately implied it would find some way to get me in tap shoes. I've held firm. Yes, I do move my body in a vaguely predetermined way in the show, but as God is my witness, to call what I'm doing dancing would be equivalent to referring to the late Gerald Ford as an acrobat.

There were several reasons why I agreed to do this show so soon (i.e., immediately) after my previous role in The Somewhat True Tale of Robin Hood. First, I was excited about meeting CP actors face to face that I'd praised so many times in past reviews. In that respect, this transaction was an unqualified success. Bailey Boyd (Elle), Kristin Burch (Brooke), Patrick Wigren (Warren and choreographer), and director Chris Serface among at least a dozen others have truly impressed and inspired me. We have actors, including Ms. Burch, performing a full, high-energy song-and-dance number while simultaneously skipping rope. After seeing their finished product, I was stunned to learn Burch has been performing her role with the flu and a 104-degree temperature. I honestly had no idea. She's a pro. There's amazing talent up and down the line in this show, and they got it all ready in three and a half weeks (a necessity in order to maximize theater earnings).

My second reason for signing on was I wanted to push myself. I know I'm not a fully-trained singer, and I beat my head against it last year when I participated in Opera Pacifica's production of La Traviata. I may not always enjoy difficult learning experiences, but I understand their value. I was told Elle's dad had only a minute-long solo, so I figured I could handle that with minimal humiliation. So here we go! Who's up for a challenge?

What I did not understand was the company needed a greater number of male performers than they'd been able to find and hire. Ergo, I was soon recruited to play Winthrop, a dean of admissions, as well. Then I was asked to play a student. And a reporter. And a prison guard. You see where this is going. Suddenly my "minute of Elle's dad plus some choral stuff" became an entire show, complete with five costume changes. Don't get me wrong, I'm less essential to the overall success of the show than a backstage coat hanger, but I do have plenty of things to do...none of which I'm especially good at.

Again, I'm not being falsely modest. I can act. I have comic timing and I'm good with character voices. I can carry a tune, with a year of vocal training back in college. I just want you to understand that a.) I'm a klutz, due to my size and other physical limitations, and b.) I know I have issues with tempo. I discovered this during opera rehearsals last year. I don't read music, mostly because I can't, and there are times when it's difficult to hear what the orchestra is up to exactly in numbers like these. Sometimes the music's just ornamental squiggles behind a vocalist who carries the melody. There's no drum track like the ones we're used to on radio. So there are times, during my solo for one, when the orchestra goes "THUMP" and one had better maintain a consistent rhythm from there on out without further assistance. That's tough for me. I looked at a series of rest symbols in my script and thought, "What the hell is 'squiggle-dash-percent?' Can't somebody just point at me when it's my turn to sing? How do I get myself into these ordeals?"

Anyway. Long story short, I've had a hell of a time achieving even minimal standards of vocal mediocrity, and I'm used to being more competent than this. So when we finally got the real orchestra Monday night and my tiny little minute of singing flew completely off the rails, I was hit by a walloping, crushing realization: Ohh! I'm just never gonna get this. I am going to suck in this show. I've embarrassed myself and failed this hardworking company. They deserve better, and I don't have time or know a way to fix it.

I was heartbroken. It's amazing how deeply I feel these things. You'd be justified in asking why I don't find more comforting ways to spend my ever-diminishing free time. I don't know if I have a convincing answer for that question, so I won't try. What I will say is I'm unwilling to work this hard and fail without going down swinging. So I kept at it, rehearsing the same minute of vocal music more times than I could rationally defend, and last night, for the first time, I got it right with the orchestra. My mood reversed overnight. In fact, to be perfectly honest, I don't know if I've been prouder of myself for anything I've done the last two years. (My last personal triumph before that was marrying the optimal woman for me and my life, but you knew that already.)

So here we are. I've gone from thinking of musical performance as, in the words of David Foster Wallace, "a supposedly fun thing I'll never do again" to a "teachable moment." Tonight marks the free audience preview before we officially open tomorrow. I'm not saying Legally Blonde: The Musical has the best script since Sondheim was a pup, but it does have catchy songs and a lot of cool dancing by people who aren't me. It's sexy--I swear to God, these people all have perfect asses, which defies probability--and you'll root for plucky, Pepto-pink Elle. You might even see me genuinely grinning in my "young Nick Nolte" wig, assuming I make it through that white-knuckle minute of song three, "What You Want," without a catastrophic accident.

Break a leg, fellow Blondes.

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  1. Well, Carv, I guess it’s up to me to review this show and hopefully not become Capital Playhouse enemy number one. I probably shouldn’t have read this ’cause now my empathy for your klutziness and Kristen’s fever will influence my impartial judgement.

  2. While we’re at it, I should also mention that all three members of Elle’s Greek chorus are dancing with significant foot injuries. They go offstage and reach for their crutches.

    Again, I could make a serious case that we shouldn’t be doing this to ourselves, but such is life in the business of show.

  3. We’re in it for the big bucks.


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