People keep asking me how the latest Special Happy was. If I rehash it here, perhaps it will seem clearer when I state the facts verbally.
The first time we produced Special Happy it was on a whim of a dare of a suggestion. We didn’t know what it was going to be. We (and the audiences who participated) were delighted to discover the outcome. Who doesn’t want to show up to a theatre on a Friday night, be told it’s your birthday, and watch 35 minutes of absurd party acts that end in pizza, cake, presents, and Duran Duran? People liked it so much that when we were offered a remount, we knew we had to say yes.
Last summer when Perishable Theatre was trying to save itself, in search of programming we could contribute to the space, we dreamed up a new iteration of our beloved Special Happy. On the fifth Friday of the month (which happens four times a year) we could bring back the party with a slight twist. Each month we’d hire a special guest from the community who would perform an act for the audience and then be interviewed by the Hostess. Other than that, it would be the same. Simple, right? We already know the show, it can be performed on any set (with our signature green glitter curtain hung behind us) and any general wash of light. Plus, people love it so we’ll make some money.
December 30 was our inaugural run. We had little time to rehearse before the show date, but did manage to meet a few times and work our special guest in (Vanessa Gilbert, the former Artistic Director of Perishable who decided to play the accordion). Because we were attempting to run the show as part of late-night programming (like the improv and story-telling folks), our plan was to arrive at the space on the morning of the 30th and have a casual day of running through and setting the flexible piece on whatever set was up before our 10pm curtain. If we were to run this new Special Happy as a late night semi-monthly one-off, then simplicity was the name of the game.
That’s the way I thought back in 2011. Maybe now that it is 2012 I will have learned that anytime I hear myself using “simple” and “theatre” in the same sentence, I am deluding myself. More than that, I am belying exactly what I love about theatre: all of the problem-solving messiness that goes into creating an experience that feels easy for the audience. The seamlessness only comes with time in the studio, well-rehearsed plans, and a team of people to help you make it happen. Manifesting seamlessness through inadequate planning and great ideas is a recipe for disaster.
Here’s how the day was supposed to go:
9am: Arrive and set up
1-2pm: Break
2pm: Rehearse
6-8pm: Break
8-9pm: Tie all loose ends
10pm: Showtime
Here’s how it went:
10am: Arrive and begin taking apart the remaining risers that still needed to be moved downstairs.
11am: Realize that there are no lights currently hung, let alone focused on the stage. Spend the next several hours hanging and focusing.
2pm: The rest of the cast arrives and tries to understand when we’re going to rehearse. We begin to hunt through the remaining bin of blacks to hang some sort of masking as there is no set in the space at all.
3:30pm: Our friend Jeremy pokes his head in to see how we are. He offers to buy us burritos. We take him up on the offer. This is a high point.
4:30pm: A first run-through. No one can remember much. We talk through a lot of moments and set cues and space.
6pm: Run through finished, Jed and Chris figure out their decorating sequence, Bobby figures out what he’s going to say, Vanessa plays the accordion. I flit among the three sectors offering my encouragement, reminding them that we’re doing another run at 7pm. When they ask me what time the break is I refrain from breaking anyone’s pinky finger.
6:45pm: We run through the show. It goes much better.
7:15pm: The space is reset, but the lights are still not entirely focused. Jed can’t get the whole grid to work. I remember we need to get change for the box office. And notecards. And part of Jed’s costume. I leave to find these things.
8pm: I return to discover that the light problem has been solved. Jed and Vanessa are focusing the remaining instruments, Bobby is making his costume, Chris has gone out to find dinner. I sweep the stage.
9pm: My box office help arrives. I give her the drill, lay on the floor for ten minutes and then put on my costume.
10pm: We do the show! People come! (Not as many as we had hoped!) It is great!
11pm: The last party people have finally gone. I pay Bobby and Chris and thank them for their work. Jed and I clean the space and then stop halfway to grab a drink with his folks before finishing the job.
12:30am: Back to the space to finish the clean up.
1:30am: Jed and I arrive at home and I realize I don’t know where my keys and my phone are. After a drowsy search Jed finally convinces me to go back to the theatre with him to look.
2:30am: Back at the theatre. No keys no phone. We decide to take a chance and go to the bar where we’d been earlier. Some kind employees having their shift drink before leaving tell me that they didn’t find anything, but that I am welcome to look.
2:45am: I find my keys and my phone on the floor near the chair I’d sat in. This was the second-best part of the day.
3am: Bed.
8am: Wake up for work. Good lord. What have I done?
So, the show was enjoyed by the audience. My life, however, saw no improvement. I realized that I make plays for the joy of experimenting. I produce those plays because that is the way that they will be given to audiences. However, to remount a show requires greater attention. I want someone else to produce it. Or I want to create a situation where all of the ducks are lined up and all we have to do is perform. Entering into a 24-hour-nightmare only makes me feel old and unsuccessful.
Here’s to smarter decision-making in 2012; to valuing my energy as a resource and not squandering it on stuff that seems simple; to bringing back parties when there’s more than just a date on a calendar. Thanks to everyone who came, and who everyone who has said “Oh, I’ve heard about that show! I would love to see it. Are you doing it again?” No. You missed out. And yes, it is every bit as good as you heard.
Rebecca Makes Plays 