Introductions: Blue Tarantula / Announcer

We're back in NYC for the weekend, which is a welcome break. Our shows in Lebanon, NH, were great fun! One of our audiences clapped along for every single number, which was both cool and odd at the same time, as the rhythms are a tad complicated in our salsa and blues numbers. Anyway, the kids were wonderfully refreshing, the crew brought us deep-fried apple turnover goodness as a between-shows snack and our load-out (which involved a freight elevator) took less than an hour. We did get stuck in bad traffic on the way back, and were reminded that it is important to check our clearance when you are in a tall vehicle, as we passed a Greyhound bus with its top ripped off after what appeared to be a too-close call with a bridge. Word to the wise.

Anyway, with the tour winding down, and a little free time on my hands, I thought I'd present my final character-and-a-half introduction. Meet The Blue Tarantula (and, by default, the Announcer):



The Blue Tarantula is the scary creatures that mysteriously appears in Max's room. Ruby tries to convince Max to take a nap to distract him from playing SuperBunny (his favorite radio show, and my Announcer bit). Max isn't having it, so Ruby offers to read him one book, which, after some negotiation, winds up being the Blue Tarantula. Max gets scared, but decides to reread the story himself, and "allows" the creature into his room by opening the book. Madness ensues as small kids laugh, cry, scream and pee their pants. All is well with the world.

So, yeah, I also didn't know that these guys were part of my contract when I signed on. My contract made no mention of any spidery stuff. In fact, at my fitting, I was only told I would be playing "the tarantula head puppet." Thus, you can imagine it was quite a surprise on the first day of rehearsal when Jana, our music director, started playing the underscore to the Blue Tarantula song, stared at me expectantly and said, "You know that this is your song, right?" After my first day crash course, Jeff's notes to make it "more spooky" and composer Carol Hall's advice to "sing it just like I wrote it," I think we've developed something fun and a little scary.

And then there is the head and legs. The head sits on a Styrofoam head form which has a long stick in it. (The eyes, as you have read, have taken a bit of a beating while on the road.) The legs are pool noodles covered in black fabric that are operated by Lydia, Leigh and Leah. All of this appears over the wall that opens up behind Max's bedroom set, and looks like the monster is climbing over his head and into his bed. I love puppeteering the head, creeping up slowly over the wall to get the kids to scream and then ducking down really fast, as if the spider noticed the audience and had to hide. Tracy told me my tarantula is one of the most lively they have had. I guess that summer at the zoo was good for something, right?

Oh, and the announcer? Well, he's super-nasal and super-1950s. Sounds about right for SuperBunny, huh?

Kid quote of the day: During Blue Tarantula, a little girl cried out to Max and Ruby, "Save yourselves!"

Call tomorrow: Nothing until Monday, and we don't know yet. We're headed to New Haven!

ASL

Emileena surprised us (or, at least, me) with great news this morning: our first show of the day here in Concord, NH would be ASL interpreted! In fact, we had an entire deaf school coming to see the show! COOL!

I have always been a big fan of accessibility in the theater, and getting two interpreters in front of the stage is my favorite way this happens. Probably because I like to watch them when I'm backstage (and sometimes when I'm on stage, if I can get away with it!) Anyway, our interpreters were great and really captured the sensibilities of the show. The woman interpreting Ruby captured the "ultimate patience with Max" face that Michelle has mastered, and Max's interpreter mastered the devious smile. And, in my case, I learned the signs for one of my characters:

Cool, huh?

Anyway, we've finished off our two days in Concord and now have an impromptu day off (a show was canceled) before we head to Lebanon to perform in what is rumored to be a very pretty opera house. New Hampshire looks just like I would expect it: colonial and green. Concord also seems to shut down pretty early, as our attempt at food finding proved last night. And it also appears to be McCain territory, after the number of giant posters we've seen for him. We're keeping a low profile in that regard.

Kid quote of the day: When Mr. Barley made his second entrance and greeted Ruby, a little girl started crying. I was sad.

Call tomorrow: Well, um, we need to check by noon, so, theoretically, before then.

A Job

Touring is difficult. I'm not sure that this is something I've stressed adequately in this blog. Most of you know that I am the eternal optimist and embrace the Rick Steve's "Always Say Yes" approach as much as I can in life, but I think it is worth mentioning that doing a show up to 13 times a week while loading in and loading out AND driving to your next venue (sometimes up to 8 hours) is not exactly a cake walk. And it leads me to think about a conversation I had with a patron a few weeks back.

I had come across a sponsor at one of our venues who was very excited to speak to me. She gushed about the show (which was very nice, as it had been a particularly tough performance) and then asked me a very simple, very leading question: "So, this must be just the most fun thing to do ever, right?" My instincts kicked in and I responded with mostly positive remarks, but it got me thinking. Yes, I love this show to bits and am thrilled beyond words that I am currently gainfully employed as an actor, but, just like anything else, doing the same thing over and over for months can take its toll. And it can start to feel like "a job," the same as any other. Some days, it's hard to get yourself going. And the energy of the show, in addition to our load-in and load-out, can leave you utterly exhausted. Sadly, I was starting to see myself getting frustrated and "rutted" during our local run-outs during the last few days. That, my friends, is an actor's nightmare.

And then Fairfield happened.

We had three lovely performance there, two of which were for the general public, where we actively saw kids and parents coming together. Moms, Dads and Grandma's laughing along at the PG humor with the kids sitting open-mouthed, following Max and Ruby's antics within an inch of their lives. And they applauded Max & Ruby's entrances, clapped along during our closing number and gave us such a warm reception that we all just wanted to race back out their give them a big hug. And, most tangibly, these two notes arrived backstage:

Dear Ruby,
When you said to Max to take a nap, some of the blue tarantula's legs came up and I also saw the blue tarantula's head. It was popping up its head. The blue tarantula is only fake. Please tell Max Because Max was kind of scared.
Love Kate

Dear Max,
You shouldn't have been afraid. The tarantula was very silly. The play was very fun. And you are great because you look cute. I made a SuperBunny book that has 4 pages and one chapter. And I really, really like your play.
Love Emma.

A scanned version is on its way.

If that isn't a reminder of why we do show, dress in these crazy costumes, sing along to these peppy tracks and build this monster house, I don't know what is.

Kid quote of the day: On Ruby's suggestion that Max take a nap, all the kids shouted NO and the grownups shouted YES. See what I mean about bringing people together?

Call tomorrow: 7:45am, parking lot of Hampton Inn in Concord/Bow, NH. And boy am I ready for it!

Maine / Lobster Feast / Auditions

So, this has been our run-out of Maine shows. Augusta the first day, then a quick trip to Worchester, MA (where we played in a 150 year old theater/meeting house) and finally a return visit to Portland for our final show on this run-out. After which we drove all the way back to New York. Needless to say, our return to the city was much-needed; we were pooped.

Anyway, all three days were noteworthy show-wise. In Augusta, we played on a stage set up in the middle of a basketball stadium. Which was really, really, really, really weird. Such a cavernous space is exhausting and everybody was zapped by the end. In Worchester, our 150 year old theater came complete with pictures of important dead white guys on the walls. And over 1000 screaming kids. Which definitely made us feel like rock stars. Finally, Portland held about 2000 kids on a stage that rivals anything I've ever seen in terms of depth and width. Both of the latter two spaces also had elevators for our load-in/load-out, which added an extra level of challenge. Plus, Maine is really cold, and (having just gotten back from Florida) nobody was really as prepared as we should have been.

Maine also continued to bring out the foodies in this cast. I don't think I've put this up here yet, but I've come to realize that the one thing you can sort-of control on tour is what you eat. And our cast has what a friend of mine would call "good eaters"; we know what we like and aren't afraid to go in search of it. So, being in Maine, I took it upon myself to organize a lobster dinner. We chose Portland as our location, and I got a restaurant recommendation from our super-swanky (and heavily-discounted; thanks Theatreworks!!) hotel. Leah, Lydia, Leigh and Michelle joined me for the Feast. I think this sums it up:




(I forgot my camera at the hotel, so these pictures are via phone camera. Hence the quality.)

I (and we) had a lovely time. A number of people kept the indulgence going by having breakfast in bed the next day. I opted for a local coffee shop, which was so good that I'm actually considering a return trip to Portland just so that I can have another cappuccino. Seriously, people, it was that good.

Back in the city today, four of us trekked out for an audition. Which means, apparently, there is life after this tour. Since we all got times before 10:30am, we decided that, if nothing else, this tour has taught us how to sing well and pump up the energy early in the day, thus giving us a distinct advantage over all those other folks in line. I also brought my CHA-CHING hat for luck. Everybody rubbed it before we went in. If that's not a bond, I don't know what is.

Kid quote of the day: Today, the floor creek in Blue Tarantula elicited a different response. Regarding Ruby: "Oh, now SHE'S scared!!"

Call tomorrow: 2:45pm, Manhattan garage near Columbia. We've got a 6:30pm show on Long Island. Life is beautiful.