Okay, I'm not gonna lie. I spent nearly two hours yesterday writing what I thought was a very good posting. I had been saving it along the way, was all set to publish it when - BAM! - I hit the back button or something and erased it ALL! I was not happy, to say the least. In fact, I basically gave up on writing for the day and spent the rest of the time - including the final show of my first week - complaining to anyone who would listen. There, now that I've got that off my chest, I'm done. Thank you to everyone who listened to me complain yesterday - you know who you are - and I love you for it!
That said - What a ride! This has been, and continues to be, an absolutely amazing journey, and it's only just begun!
Last Tuesday's debacle-ous beginning was followed by one day of budding joy after another. I say "budding" because it took time for it to evolve, obviously. Each show, each performance, grows and deepens and becomes not only cleaner in my understanding of it, but more fun to perform each time. It's very hard, neé impossible, to describe the kind of joy that is MM! I know that sounds a bit Pollyanna-ish, but it's true beyond anything I can remember.
Wednesday started with a note session, just going over how the first show felt (like purgatory survived) and what can be done to improve on it (plenty). I continued to refine my "Voulez Vous" dance steps, and I must say, to my overwhelming relief and eventual happiness, I suddenly knew I had nailed it! In fact I have quickly found that what I most dread has become what I most anticipate! It is a whirlwind of energy and buoyancy and once the steps become second nature, which they quickly have with repetition, it's like a roller coaster - buckle down and get ready for the ride of your life. Eight times a week! How quickly the tide turns, considering not more than a week ago I nearly broke down in tears at the thought of VV. I admit that I wear my heart on my sleeve - or as Allison our show astrologist notes, I have "water" in me - maybe a bit of Pisces. Whatever it is, what was once tragic is now the opposite: De-tragic? Un-tragic? Non-tragic? Whatever - I call it a kick!
Thursday was the first time I considered the idea of a long running show and what it might take to sustain the energy for that. But I was still in the "What am I doing next?" mode, constantly on edge for fear of missing an entrance, so there was little time to linger on that thought..
Friday, however, was a theatrical enlightenment on many levels. (It was also the beginning of the long, 6 show weekend with Friday night, Sat matinee and night, Sunday matinee and night, and Monday night still ahead of us. It's a grueling schedule and for those who have asked me if I actually do all the shows? The answer is yes. Everyone in the cast does every show - eight per week. There are understudies and covers in case someone gets injured or sick, but short of that malady, we do every show. And even though I'm in good shape, I can already feel the effects of the raked stage on my knees. But I digress...)
Friday brought many discoveries that I suppose, if I had thought hard enough, I knew might come, but were a surprise none-the-less.
Creating a performance is a bit like the old "peeling an onion" comparison, only in reverse. In the beginning I find that I spend so much time worrying about where I'm supposed to be and what I'm supposed to do and when I'm supposed to talk that I rarely see beyond the tip of my nose. Typical actor, I know, but it's all part of my process. It's not a conscious choice, but rather a survival mechanism to stay afloat. It's also, I daresay, at the core of every actors character. An actor has to know these basic elements, without which he or she will be adrift onstage. Friday night was the first performance that I realized "Oh, I am, in fact,
NOT the only one on stage. Interesting..."
The second stage of this creation involves getting past the tip of my nose and relaxing enough and allowing myself the freedom, really, to "see" the other things onstage like props ("Oh, I never noticed that guitar onstage. Has that always been here?"), lights ("Oh, there's the light? No wonder I'm in darkness over here."), sets ("Damn that wall is big. Has it always been that big?") and even other actors ("Wait, are you in this scene? Have you always been in this scene?"). Funny as that may sound, Friday night was my watershed moment, when I started to take in all these elements of MM!, and not see them as mere props in my own one person show.
The final layer of the "onion" is acknowledging and embracing our unspoken and, until last Tuesday unseen, scene partner - the audience. Doing that first show on Tuesday night in front of that first audience, as I have said, was literally like being shot out of a cannon, and Wednesday wasn't much easier. There's little to prepare you for the experience of standing in front of 1500+ people, you just have to suck it up and hope for the best. But by Friday I was able to, again, allow myself the freedom to explore new elements of the show, one of them (and in some ways the most important) being the audience. Now I'm of two minds here. On the one hand, the audience is the unspoken scene partner, sitting on the other side of this large, cavernous space (which, as you're saying words that someone else has written and breaking out into [Swedish Pop] songs, you have to admit is a very strange thing!), voyeuristically observing your every move and vocal intonation and emotional nuance, hoping to glean some bit of understanding or entertainment or emotional response themselves. They are the eyes that peer through the window, watching the proceedings from afar, and thus are to be revered at best and simply ignored, at worst. But they are never to be acknowledged, never to be looked at beyond the "4th wall" as someone else in the room. That's one school of thought.
The other, and in my mind more realistic, is that they are part of this community that has come together to share in this one time only experience. Every show is different, every performance is different, so what they see tonight will never happen in their lives, or mine, again, and that can change someone forever. They are not just sitting, waiting to get their drivers license renewed or to see the dentist - they have come to the theater in anticipation of what? Something. An experience, an event, or maybe just an evening of entertainment. Whatever it is, it is a vital connection with me and my fellow actors on stage and requires not only my fully focused effort but an openess and willingness to fully participate, too. I take that obligation seriously, as do my fellow castmates, and I have to say it's electric!
There are two observations I have made along the way that I find very interesting and singularly MM!:
#1 - Every night, as I enter the stage for my first scene with my other Dad's, John and David, I look into the audience and see the same thing - the women or wives or girlfriends sitting up eagerly in anticipation of the next moment, excited to be there. And next to them are the men and the husbands and the boyfriends, "putting up" with being there, heads in hands, dutifully watching our proceedings, wondering what the score of the game is or when they're gonna get the chance to finish that work or whatever. Every show I see this. But...
Two hours later, as our curtain call commences and "Mamma Mia" turns into "Dancing Queen" turns into "Waterloo", they are on their feet, singing and dancing and having a blast. They didn't know why they came - now they know. Every time! Amazing!
And #2 - MM! opened on October 18, 2001, nearly eight years ago, and yet every night, just
before I make that entrance with John and David, I take a peek around the corner of the curtain - and spy nearly 1531 seats full, with more people standing in the back. What a thrill!
My other big thrill came over the weekend when my family finally got to see the show. A perfect day to spend in the theater as the rains came down outside, the following are reviews:
My son - "My favorite part was when we came home
after the show". He was a bit grumpy.
My daughter - "Dad, after seeing you in that red spandex, I think I'm damaged for life".
My wife - "Nice codpiece..."
Saturday night we said goodbye to Rina Saltzman, our company manager who's been with the show since the beginning. She's off to CM BILLY ELLIOT in Chicago and I wish her nothing but the best. We talked of MM! and it's success and what it means and she shared this wonderful thought: (I'm paraphrasing a bit)
"From the very beginning Judy (Craymer, our producer) and Nina (Lanan, our general manager) and everyone involved knew what this show was about. It's not brain surgery. We're not reinventing the wheel. It's a show full of love and joy, and that's our gift to the audience. Joy. Is there anything wrong with that?"
