The Pre-Christmas Post-Christmas Crash

Ever since I met my husband, one of our favorite family traditions has been performing in Reagle Music Theatre of Greater Boston’s annual “ChristmasTime” production.

 Our first performance together

This year, for the first time, both our kids performed in the show, as well. It’s a wonderful kick-off to the Christmas season, but it takes an awful lot of time right before the holiday. In fact, in some ways, I feel like the show IS the Christmas holiday, and there just happens to be a completely separate second Christmas that comes afterward.

Rehearsals begin in early November, with a busy production weekend including a dress rehearsal with all 200 performers (nearly 100 of them under the age of 8 or so) falling just after Thanksgiving, with a full tech week of long evening rehearsals the following week. Performances run the first two weekends of December, with 5 performances (!!!!) each weekend. My husband and I host a cast party for the adult cast members the first weekend, which means that sometime before Thanksgiving we have to get the entire house and yard decorated (and cleaned!), or else it won’t happen in time for the party. The bottom line is that we spend all our time from 6 weeks before Christmas to less than 2 weeks before Christmas completely wrapped up in this show. I don’t think about shopping for Christmas presents, I don’t plan out my holiday menu, I don’t schedule details of family gatherings, I only worry about costumes and lyrics and backstage babysitters and how to stop my kids from picking their noses on stage. (Note: costumes, lyrics, and babysitters were fine; the nose picking, well, let’s just say that I’m still looking for a solution on that one.)

Yesterday was the final performance of the show, followed by a quick packing up of boxes (and boxes…and BOXES…) of costumes, rushing back home for a brief but wonderful visit with family who had come to see the show, and falling into bed. The adrenaline was still coursing, the elation of hearing the thunderous applause and the many grateful comments from audience members was still fresh in our ears. But this morning…this morning, we’re all feeling the crash of finishing one Christmas and barreling towards the next.

On the morning after the show every year, I look at the calendar and feel a sudden rush of panic at how little time is left and how much I have still to do before Christmas comes. Shopping, baking, scheduling, cleaning, wrapping. How will it ever get done? And yet, somehow it always does get done. Maybe someone won’t get exactly the present they had hoped for, but they’ll get something special. Maybe someone will miss their favorite kind of Christmas cookie, but there will be Christmas cookies. Maybe some family visit will be put off until January because we just couldn’t figure out how to squeeze it in, but there will be a family visit (eventually).

Why do I keep doing this, year after year, if it induces such panic every time? Because that panic, that pre-Christmas post-Christmas crash, lasts for only a moment relative to all the wonderful, joyous, peaceful feelings that I get from doing the show. The hours of looking out over a rapt audience, seeing the excited faces of children watching us perform, watching my kids playing backstage with their new friends, relaxing with the other performers who have become not only friends but extended family over the years, the beauty of singing carols which have been sung by hundreds of other voices over hundreds of years, the pride of watching my children entertain an audience (and loving it) – all that washes away the momentary panic. All that, to me, is the spirit of Christmas: sharing joy, peace, and the happiness of the season with others.

Merry Christmas to all!

Shock and Awe

Ever since I could talk, I’ve loved to sing. Ever since elementary school, I’ve loved being on the stage. For me, there is nothing as exciting, as invigorating, as FUN as performing in front of an audience. So I look forward every year to performing, alongside my husband, in a local Christmas production.

Now, this isn’t just any old “local Christmas production.” Don’t be imagining a nativity with shepherds wearing old bathrobes and Joseph dropping the Baby Jesus on his head while bored teenagers forget the words to “Hark, the Herald Angels Sing.” This is not badly-painted cardboard sets and an out-of-tune piano in a church basement. Not that there’s anything wrong with that – I’ve been in many of those productions and they are wonderful in their own, unique, homespun way. But this particular production is high-end, big budget, professional, go big or go home type theatre. We’re talking full professional orchestra, Broadway sets, elaborate costumes, trained vocalists, and precision dancing. This is legit theatre with an RE at the end.

One of my favorite moments in this production is at the end of the opening sequence: The choir processes down the aisles, wearing choir robes and carrying large candles, then moves up onto risers on the stage, and just as we turn out toward the audience, the orchestra segues into the sweeping opening chords of Handel’s “Hallelujah Chorus.” 

The music alone gives me chillbumps, but as we look out into the audience, I get even more chillbumps as I look out over an ocean of excited faces full of anticipation. There are usually a handful of youngsters in the front row dressed in their holiday finery, the girls in sparkly party dresses and the boys in festive sweaters or the occasional shirt and tie. Each one is leaning forward, eyes wide, the footlights reflecting off their awestruck faces. For many of them, this is the very first theatrical experience of their entire lives. They have no idea what to expect, no idea what they’re in for. But I know, and I love watching their faces as the show unfolds before them.

But this year, I have two new young faces to watch as something new and exciting unfolds before them: my own children. This year, my 5-year-old son and 3-year-old daughter are joining the cast of the show, as elves.

(The two in Santa hats are mine)

Already I’ve seen their excitement as each layer is added to the production: The first time they sang in a room full of 85 (!!!) other kids; the first time they walked through the wings and onto the stage; the first time they wore their costumes and carried their props; the first time the full orchestra accompanied them; the first time Santa (“He’s not really Santa; he’s just pretending, just like we’re just pretending to be elves.”) appeared to sing with them. And when the show opens tomorrow night, I’ll get to see their faces the first time they step out onto the stage and see the same audience I do, the faces looking back at them with excitement and anticipation.

Our show ends with a lovely and moving live nativity, framed by the chorus on each side of the stage. As we enter, portraying humble villagers in Bethlehem coming to see the “newborn King”, the director always reminds us: “You’re seeing a miracle right in front of you. Your faces should show shock and awe.” It’s become tradition for the cast to whisper to each other as we wait to make that entrance, “Shock and awe. Shock and awe!!” And that’s what sums up this experience for me: Shock and awe. Shock and awe. It is truly an awesome experience.

Swing Time

Although I know that many of my friends who read this blog are theater performers, I’m sure that some of you reading this are not, so let me give you a bit of background on today’s topic: Theatrical understudies. Actually, not just understudies, but also standbys and swings.

As you all probably know, an understudy is someone who learns a major role in a production in order to provide coverage if the original actor has to miss a performance. Most major roles in professional theater productions have an understudy. Sometimes the understudy knows well in advance when he or she will perform; for example, if the star is going on vacation for a few weeks. Sometimes he or she gets a few hours’ notice if the star is ill and unable to go on that day. And sometimes he or she gets tossed onstage mid-performance because the star begins a show but can’t finish for whatever reason. Some stars are afraid to let an understudy go on for them for fear that the understudy’s performance will be better than their own, and some stars are such passionate work-a-holics that they don’t want to miss a moment in the spotlight even if they’re not feeling well. The result of both situations is that occasionally the star will start a performance and not be able to finish it.

But besides an understudy, there is also a job called a “standby.” Much like an understudy, a standby learns a role and is prepared to step into it at a moment’s notice. The main difference between an understudy and a standby is that an understudy is generally a member of the cast, whereas a standby is an outsider. A standby is usually required to come to the theater (or at least be nearby, much like a doctor who is “on call”) just prior to a performance and stay until intermission. An understudy, being a member of the cast, is of course already at the theater for the performance. But when an understudy steps in for a lead, the understudy’s role – usually a small role or featured ensemble part - is often left open, which brings us to the third category: swings.

A swing is a member of a cast, usually someone in a minor role or part of the ensemble, who learns multiple other minor chorus or dance roles. Sometimes a swing will step into a role because the actor in that role is ill or injured, but most often a swing covers the role normally played by an understudy who is stepping into the star’s shoes. Unlike an understudy or a standby who usually gets the opportunity to perform their role during a rehearsal or two, a swing is pretty much expected to pick up his or her covered roles by seeing the show and reading the script. A swing often steps into a role for the very first time in front of an audience.

Being an understudy or a standby is a tough job, because you’re always stepping in for the star, and often people are disappointed by your mere presence, regardless of how talented you are or how fine a performance you give. But to me, the toughest job of all is being a swing. Not only do you have to know two or three (or even four or five) different roles, you don’t get to rehearse any of them, you don’t usually have costume fittings so if you don’t happen to be the same size as whomever you’re covering you wear whatever the costumer has on hand in your size that sorta kinda suits the period and the character; and worst of all, nobody really notices how amazing you are when you do all that.

And yet, if I had to choose whether I wanted to be an understudy or a swing, I’d be a swing every time. How much fun to be able to play a whole bunch of characters in a show! What an adrenaline rush from jumping into a role cold in front of an audience and knowing that you’ll either sink or swim! What fun to know a show so well that you can step into any of a number of roles and cover their vocals, their blocking, their choreography, and their character so perfectly that no-one in the audience will know anything’s different. I know someone that has performed in the Broadway cast of Phantom of the Opera for 20 years. He is a swing who covers half a dozen roles, but I have no doubt that at this point he could successfully step in to any role in the entire production, including the Phantom and probably even Christine. I’m sure that after 20 years, he knows every nuance of every performance in the show and could mimic each one faithfully. How much fun to know a show that well!

This may not be true of non-theatrical types, but I bet that all my theater friends, just like me, have at least one show that you’ve seen or listened to the cast album of enough times that you can recite the entire script and score verbatim. And be honest: you’ve totally acted out all the characters in your living room while you were home alone, haven’t you. Yes, yes, you have. And so have I.

And that’s why it’s so fun for me to be in Reagle’s annual Christmas show – we’ve all done it so many times that 90% of the cast could be swings for any given role. And the best part of it is that we often are! Sometimes someone needs to miss a performance or two, or someone gets ill, and whomever is available to fill in for that bit part just steps up and does it. No hoopla, no curtain announcement, often no chance to run it through ahead of time. Just remember what you’ve seen dozens of times, do the best you can, and trust everyone around you to steer you in the right direction if you’re off.

I haven’t had much opportunity to be a swing so far. I think my second year I filled in for one of the “girls wearing the same coat” – a role that lasts for all of 12-1/2 seconds, but it was fun and gave me a taste for it. A couple of years ago I got to be a swing in the barbershop quartet of the Irish show. But this year I get to be a swing for a slightly more featured role: “Second Clerk.” I get to sing in a quartet that repeats 8 bars of music four different times. It may not sound like much, but it’s still pretty exciting! There are an awful lot of people in that scene that I need to work around and with and fit into traffic patterns. I need to hand off a prop (to my own husband, of all people, so I’d BETTER NOT screw it up). And I need to wear a microphone, something I’ve never had to do before in the Christmas show. It’s very exciting.

It’s swing time!

 

Curtain Up, Light the Lights

Tonight is opening night of Reagle Music Theatre’s annual production of “ChristmasTime.” It’s the 5^th time I’ve performed in the show, and I know it well. I know where my entrances are, how much time I have for each costume change, and which props I carry in each scene. I’ve memorized my music and I know my blocking. I’m even solid on my choreography (which is officially a Christmas miracle). I have no fear of making a mistake or not knowing what to do if something goes wrong. And yet, I still have butterflies in my stomach.

The first time I performed in this show, I was terrified on opening night. But that time, I wasn’t entirely sure of my entrances, I depended on others to tell me what costume to change into next, I still wasn’t solid on all my lyrics and blocking, and I was definitely shaky on some of the choreography. But I got through it with the help of veterans who nudged me into position, made sure I was in the right costume, whispered upcoming dance steps, and just generally shepherded me around. And each succeeding year, I was more comfortable and more confident, and the terror subsided into fear, then jitters, and now, it’s pure excitement.

It’s exciting to be a part of a performance that plays such an important role in so many people’s holiday seasons. There are audience members who have seen this show every year for the past 20 years or more. There are people in the audience who used to come with their parents and who now bring their children. There are parents in the audience watching their children play elves who used to play elves themselves. There are new audience members who, by intermission, have already decided to make the show an annual tradition with their family. I have never yet not been thanked by someone in the audience for making their Christmas extra-special.

What a joy to be a part of something with such a rich tradition! What a blessing to be a blessing to others during this holiday season. What a privilege to bring a message of hope and joy and thanksgiving at a time of year when that message is so often lost in the busy shuffle of shopping and entertaining and chauffeuring kids to parties and activities. We may be up on stage to bring joy to the audience, but we can hardly help bringing joy to our own hearts, as well.

No wonder it gives me butterflies.

Same Time Next Year

Five years ago, I performed in the Reagle Players’ annual production of “It’s ChristmasTime” for the first time. I was newly in love with the man who would soon become my husband, and that new love was imprinted on every scene that we did together. And every year since, re-staging those same numbers brings back the thrill and excitement of falling in love, truly in love, for the very first time.

I’ve often said that because we were older when we got married (I was 39; he was 45), we cherish our relationship more than some. People who marry young and who have been in the same relationship for basically all of their adult lives must find it so easy to take that relationship for granted. And as the often-exhausted parent of two small children, I can see that it is also easy to let the husband-wife relationship fall to the bottom of the priority list once you’re busy playing mom and dad all the time. So I am thankful that I have this event every single year that brings back to my mind everything that made me fall in love with my husband.

This show is really the perfect venue to sum up our relationship. Since it’s a similar production from year to year, it’s put together very quickly with a minimal rehearsal schedule. Which is great for the veterans, but it means that the newbies get a LOT of stuff thrown at them in a very short time. Those of you who know me personally know that I don’t do well with last-minute information, and any of you who have ever performed in a show with me know that I totally stress out about last-minute changes to blocking and choreography. So to get music one month before the show, learn choreography a week before the show, and see a costume plot two days before the show was incredibly stressful for me. Not to mention not knowing the order of the show until dress rehearsal. Most men would have been ready to wring my neck with my constant questions and anxiety, but my sweetheart was patient and understanding, and constantly reassured me that I would be just fine – and, more importantly, assured me that he would be by my side to make sure nothing went wrong. During that first production, I learned that I could trust and rely on him. And he learned that I was willing to step out of my comfort zone to make him happy. Interestingly enough, we now have several scenes where I arrive on stage first and look around for him, then he comes from behind and takes my hand or puts his arm around me. That, too, is a good symbol of our relationship: I was right where I was supposed be, but I was alone and looking for someone, and as soon as he appeared I felt happier and had more of a purpose.

So every year, as we once again step on that stage, my heart goes back to the place where it was all those years ago seeing my husband through the eyes of love, fresh and unspoiled. It’s good for me, and it’s good for US, to be able to remember so clearly what our love was like before it was clouded with the cares of children and money and jobs and reality. And so every year, I look forward to that magic reset button. What do you say, sweetheart? Same time next year?

In 2007, we were newly in love

In 2008, we were newlyweds

[In 2009 I didn’t perform because I was busing having a baby the day of the first rehearsal]

In 2010, we found out on opening night that we were expecting baby #2

In 2011, we were officially "married with children"

And in 2012, we will be happily continuing the tradition in a few short weeks!