The most wonderful time of the year (?)...

Finally, I can take a break for a couple of weeks - no students, no rehearsals and no performances - just my regular 9 to 5 stint.  I wonder how many other people consider their forty-hour a week day-job a “break”?  Likely very few, methinks. 

Opening "Be Our Guest" w/ Trish as Mrs. Potts and me as
Lumiere

With the smashing success of our fourth annual Very Merry Pineda Holiday Spectacular (try to and say that quickly ten times), the Pinedas wrapped up another ridiculously busy year.  Within the span of two weeks, we put together three different shows - our successful, but somewhat aggravating production of Pirates by our Young Artists, the Musical Theatre Class Showcase and the Holiday Spectacular. 

Per usual, turnover time between shows was quick.  Minutes after we had laboriously crammed the Pirates backdrop into its cardboard shipping box following the final Sunday matinee, conservatory students and alumni began showing up at the theatre waiting to fill the stage with holiday merriment.  Their youthful enthusiasm quickly devolved into the wide-eyed confusion I’ve come to associate with the intake of too much information coupled with too little rehearsal time.

I think the Pineda Conservatory motto should be changed from “…where dreams take center stage” to “divide and conquer,” as this seems to be our go-to rehearsal philosophy.  Val teaches a song to a dozen eight-year-olds in the upper lobby, Juan blocks a scene in the lower lobby with a couple teenagers and I try to choreograph a dance number (with half the dancers missing) on the stage and violá - instant show! 

I came into the rehearsal process for the musical theatre showcase fairly late in the game - nine hours before the game, to be exact.  After Friday night’s Spectacular rehearsal, Juan asked if I would be the accompanist for the showcase, scheduled for the next night.  I, of course, said “yes.”  I had to be in Jersey all weekend for Spectacular rehearsals anyway.  What’s another show added into the mix?

So forsaking my coveted Saturday morning sleep-in time, I joined Juan and Val the next morning for more rehearsal, this time with the middle school musical theatre students.  For the showcase, the students picked their own songs and wrote original monologues leading into their songs. 

Apparently, there’s a shortage of prozac in the Central Jersey area.  Each depressing, angst-filled monologue was followed by another even more depressing, angst-filled monologue involving the death of mom, dad or both parents.  Pets and siblings managed to survive this fictional familial massacre unscathed.  This is probably how that town in Children of the Corn started out.



Juan's Cogsworth & Val finally a princess, Belle.



Later that afternoon - after a 3-hour Spectacular rehearsal, natch - the depressed middle schoolers returned, joined by the elementary school students, for a final run-through before that evening’s showcase.  The elementary school students were a bit of mess, but at least had the cute factor working in their favor. 

I have a personal theory about student performances - I think parents enjoy a student performance more if there is at least one train wreck.  Of course, I have no empirical evidence to support this theory and I wouldn’t recommend “planting” a clusterf*ck in a show on purpose, but parents seem to view pitch and rhythm-challenged toddlers as “cute.”  Give ‘em a perfect performance by a stage full of elementary schoolers? Well, that’s a snoozer.  A ditzy eight-year-old accidentally leading a whole line of kids off the stage into the pit?  Brava!



Despite a rough run-through and me having only received the music a few hours earlier, the performance went rather smoothly - no major jumped measures or forgotten cues and no pit fatalities.  Juan even managed to get one student to amend her monologue from “dead dad” to “dad hurt in a terrible accident.”  You have to pick your battles.

The next day we had a final dress rehearsal for the Holiday Spectacular.  This is somewhat of a coup for the Conservatory, as we’ve never had the luxury of a full run-through of the holiday show prior to the actual performance.  In previous years, we’ve set a 6:30 PM call time and done a speed through before the performance in order to set tempos with the accompanist (who is usually sight-reading the music) and to figure out mic hand-offs.  All the while, the cast is usually trickling in late.

This year, we had the fantastic Tony Bellomy at the piano.  He’s played rehearsals for our opera company in the past and is always a favorite with the singers.  Having him in the pit allayed at least some of our musical fears. 

Just the boys.

Though it took the entire four-hour rehearsal, we managed to get through every number except one - the elf number that Chris, Dan (see side bar) and I worked up.  Or rather, hadn’t worked up.  Let me give you some background info -

Last year at the speed through, about two hours before the performance, Val threw Chris and Dan into half a dozen numbers with no warning and little rehearsal.  Based on Chris’ complaints, I advised Val not to block Chris or Dan into any numbers in which they couldn’t rehearse, which, of course left nothing for them but our trio.  Fast forward to about a week before this year’s concert.  Chris asked me what he needed to learn for the concert.  I said, “Just our trio.  Since you were so annoyed by the last minute rehearsals last year, I told Val not to put you in any numbers that you couldn’t rehearse in advance.”  To which Chris replied, “I never said that.”  And curtain.

Luckily, the three of us have been friends for so long that minor squabbles like this rarely affect our friendship.  We’re probably more civil to each other than most married couples.

Chris and Dan are the only people I know whose schedules are as eff-ed up as mine, so the only time all three of us were available to rehearse our trio was the night before the show.  That meant we'd have to bang out a quick run-through with Tony just before half-hour call on the night of the Spectacular.  No sweat, right?  Except Chris wrote a pre-song scene that included Santa (one of our lovely Conservatory parents, but not really an actor) and a gaggle of elementary school students, not to mention a set change and full costume change for me (from a sexy Mrs. Claus to an elf with shoes taped to my knees).  Nothing like winging it on performance night with a nervous Santa and a bunch of eight-year-olds. 

Unfortunately, by Monday my brain’s short-term memory was already filled to capacity with holiday lyrics and blocking.  So when I met Chris and Dan for rehearsal at their apartment, I was a hot mess.  I could tell by Chris’ overly calm demeanor that he was in full panic mode over my lack of preparedness.  I assured him that I’d have my lines and blocking down pat by performance time, though in actuality, I wasn’t really sure I would.  Sometimes, lying is the right thing to do. 

Well, all our worrying was for naught.  We had a full house of appreciative parents and friends who didn’t even seem to notice all the f*ck ups.  Or at least they kept it to themselves if they did.  And I think I got about 90% of my lyrics and blocking correct - pretty good for a performance with virtually no rehearsal, not so much for a brain surgeon. 

Sure, we had the inevitable missed cues and a few suspect harmonies, but given the fact we had just barely gotten through the show once - two days ago - the evening was relatively catastrophe free.  My sexy Mrs. Claus version of “Steam Heat” was a hit, as was our (Chris, Dan and me) last minute, nearly rehearsal-less elf version of “Hard Candy Christmas.”

The opening mash-up of “The Most Wonderful Time of the Year” and “Be Our Guest” from Beauty and the Beast was also a crowd pleaser, and probably the only time in my life I’ll ever don Lumiere’s famous candlestick costume. 

The best part of the evening?  Chowing down on brownies and cookies after the performance.

Juan, Val, Trish and I have already started planning for next year's Spectacular and I have just two words for you - wooden soldiers.  Be afraid.  Be very afraid.