Post Laurels

Well, over a year has passed since the closing of The Poptimists.

I still get an occasional compliment about the show ... even from people not associated with it.

And the show did win a regional media award: Standout New Works 2009-2010.

Not exactly a residual check, but a nice little honor and remembrance, nonetheless.

Now I have a March 1st deadline to rewrite the book of the show to reveal the darker side of the goody-goody, clean-cut kids. That's the deadline for entering the Noel Coward Awards, given to individuals who solely write the book, lyrics and music for a show.

If I win, I get a little money and The Poptimists gets read in New York. That'd be nice. I've never been there, and I only have a few decades left at most.

[insert cricket sounds]

Oh, by the way, I did find an almost full-time job. Or rather it found me. An incredibly big thanks. You know who you are.

Fool Me Once ...

Well, as unbelievable as it seems, it's been five months since the original production of The Poptimists opened in downtown San Jose.

And, if you recall, the financial result was less than stellar ... at least for me: the author, composer, director, vocal director, choreographer, set designer, prop designer and more.

I've been a bit skittish since then to even write another project. At my age I can no longer write and compose theater "on spec" (that is, with no promise of profit or production. Merely in the hope that I might get it produced somewhere and maybe get a dime or two for all my creative efforts.)

And now, over a calendar season later, a theater has fallen into my lap ... a theater which won't cost me a dime out of pocket. Good thing because there's a LOT of room in my pockets these days.

Now, even though all the props, sets and costumes are intact, do I even consider reviving The Poptimists? Especially since none of my original cast is available, so I'd have to start all over again teaching the score and staging every musical number.

I have no idea.

Artistically, it feels right.

Financially ... ask my numerous creditors who are calling ... and circling ...

Blank Stage, Blank Page

So ... The Poptimists is now another line on the resume, a binder in my collective works, and a footnote in San Jose theater.

Striking the show is always an odd feeling. Physically taking the show apart, folding it and putting it away in storage is an incredibly literal metaphor for closure.

It was a very quick strike (less than an hour) and when we were done, all that was left was the clean, barren stage, freshly painted and ready for the next collection of creative ideas and artists. Like we'd never even been there

But that also is the magic of theater. The stage remains, waiting for the next band of gypsies to build, paint, rehearse, argue, praise, triumph, fail, succeed and enjoy their efforts.

As for this journey, it was a long one for being so short. I started writing the show in March and now it's over in December. Some writers wait years, decades to see their work produced. Some never get the chance at all.

I have to remind myself of that from time to time when I get overwhelmed in the details of producing a work. I don't enjoy it as much as I should when I'm concerned with so many other things about producing the show.

Once we opened The Poptimists, I actually did get to sit back and enjoy it most of the time. I got to stay in the moment and not worry about getting this or that, or making sure this happens, or that person has everything. (Having amazing stage managers will do that for you ... I've tried to avoid naming names in this entire little online enterprise, but I must thank Richard Cartwright and Marilyn Vaillancourt for their unwavering support, earth-moving efforts, and warm friendship. They have meant and do mean the world to me.)

And the show was short enough so I could stand in the back of the house and watch every moment of every performance, taking mental notes on how to improve a lyric here, a line there and some of the staging for future productions.

I'm very proud of my young cast and seasoned crew. So many wonderful people working so hard to put on something I wrote. (It still amazes me that people will do that.) And now a bunch of new friends from a new generation, too. I get to add them to my already wonderful collection of close, long-time friends. I had to dust off the old middle-aged brain and learn to be a little crazy again on a different level.

I never really went out much and "partied" with the cast, but we had so much fun during rehearsals, that I felt I had. The final cast party and the dinner before our closing performance was the most time I spent with them (collectively) outside of the show. Sometimes the cast needs to go out and be able to talk about the progress of the show without the director (and writer) being there and inadvertently inhibiting the conversation.

All just really wonderful people.

And at the informal cast party, as I sat off to the side in the large papa-san chair in the living room of the apartment for our last time together, I watched and listened to them having so much fun, energetic fun, and I smiled as I flashed back to the years when I was in the middle of that kind of group who was laughing so hard, singing current Broadway tunes, popular songs and just enjoying being a cast together.

And I realized that yes, I have become jaded and cynical in some ways ... but I can still make just about anybody laugh.

And The Poptimists did that for a lot of people.

And it's still a good feeling.

And So the Opening Cometh ... and Goeth

The baby is born, I can relax.

Opening night on Friday went almost as well as any opening can. A packed and over-friendly house, the sound was crystal clear, the cast was near-flawless and used the few mistakes they did make, and the audience liked the show.

The Saturday shows also went well, and the Sunday matinee was essentially a sell-out.

The cast is happy. The audiences seem happy. I'm happy.

Happy.

First review was favorable as to my goal for the show. The gentleman made some excellent remarks which I shall incorporate into the book of the next draft for the show. Personally, I don't feel someone has to be familiar with 1970 pop culture to understand the show, but perhaps I expect too much from the under-30 crowd.

I have many ideas for improving the show, but I just feel like doing nothing tonight. We have Monday night off and then six performances over the next five days.

Not looking forward to facing real life again. I've neglected it so long that it's not going to be pretty.

So I'll put it off until morning and watch the video tape of opening again. Lots of laughter and remembering how great I felt hearing it live.

Was it all worth it? Hard to say. I think I'll wait until after the show closes on Saturday.

Meanwhile, I'll sit back, enjoy my sofa, and not worry about a thing for a few hours. Or maybe finally get a decent night's sleep.

Well done, Ted. There's a lot more work to do to get The Poptimists' future lined up, but take the night off.

You deserve it.

And try ... just once ... to enjoy the moment.

Hump Day. What Hump?

Wednesday morning. Ice-cold outside (for Silicon Valley, that is).

There are still a billion (much smaller) details to do and I'm stuck at home ... waiting for the phone to ring for two phone interviews about the show, scheduled between 10 and noon.

Don't get me wrong, it's great that we're getting some press, but there's so much more I have do ... props, costumes, lighting cues, scraping together rent by 5pm tomorrow (and not the show Rent)...

This week, my hump day will be Friday.

I can't do anything the normal way.

The Poptimists itself is really coming together nicely. Between most of the costumes and adding the band last night, I'm very happy with where we're at.

The cast looks frighteningly like the group that the show is based on. I'll put up a few rehearsal pictures when I get some from my assistant stage manager.

Ticket sales are not going as well as I had hoped. We only have ten compressed days of performances (with Monday off), so word-of-mouth will have to work fast to result in ticket sales for the rest of the run. And of course, you never get the empty seats back from the first weekend.

But everyone seems to be having fun with it, and it's a fairly short show, so only about three of we staff members are really tired. The cast seems peppy -- exactly what the show calls for.

Well, back to waiting for the phone to ring, from the people I want to talk to, that is. I hate screening calls, but sometimes Life puts you in a position where other people call you, too ...

Yes, this week, my hump day will be Friday.

It'll be real interesting to see where I am then ... in a number of ways.

Now ring, you stupid phone! I've got stuff to do!

What the ... Hell Week?

Well, when did we get here? Sunday. The last Sunday rehearsal. And we open on Friday.

The Thanksgiving break was desperately needed, although we didn't have access to the theater for four whole days and therefore had no rehearsals. And one actor has been gone all week, so we have to put him back in Sunday night.

And we have no live accompaniment on Monday night, and we don't start with the band until Tuesday night.

Yeah, I'm worrying about a few things ...

The good thing is, the show is so short we can run it twice a night, so we actually have ten run-thrus instead of just five. Also, since my stage manager and I are both unemployed, we can set lights during the day. The only advantage of being under-employed.

The set and costumes are coming together, sound is being set the next two nights, so I think if I can finish making all the props we need, we just might pull this off.

My youngest older sister Patty is coming to town from Colorado this week and will be coming to see the show (and what her brother does with the time he should be using for something else a little more financially stable).

I'm just about past the final panic push and into the "calm acceptance and get the show up there the best it can be" point. I usually don't get to the calm point until Wednesday of Hell Week.

But I have a ton of real life stuff accounting for the stress lately. Just no more room for any stress about the show.

The kids are doing a really good job onstage. I just need to give a little more guidance so the general staging has a little more focus.

And so I shall. And so shall I continue making the props and painting the set and theater at all hours for our Friday opening.

So ... yeah, I'm pretty calm. And I'll hold off on the excitement until Friday night.

Almost there. From one night in March when I challenged myself to write a whole show in one month, to opening night.

One question: what happens after we close on the 12th?

The Worst Part

Two weeks from opening. Usually a hectic time when just directing show.

But when you're directing, vocally directing, finding and building props, designing and executing the set, finishing up last-minute staging and not even begun the lighting or sound plots, it can be a wee bit daunting.

Cast is doing well. The performances will be fun.

Getting there this weekend isn't.

So much to do ... so little time ... so little manpower. And my brain and energy are shot.

"So ... why am I talking to you?" -- Hedley Lamarr, Blazing Saddles. (Well ... a slight variation thereof).