Thursday, June 21, 2012

The Mikado: Week Two

SHOW SIX (Wednesday evening)

Packed house--it is so weird to have a balcony. I keep forgetting they're there and then suddenly I'll see light flashing off of someone's watch and it totally throws me off.

My parents came again tonight so my dance partner and I made a pack before going on that we would not drop our fans and it totally worked.

Act two went smoothly--except for the Mikado's ad libbed cadenza which confuzzles the heck out of the chorus still. Whoops.

The male lead is now feeling better, but the Mikado is now feeling worse. Peep Bo is now over her cold, Peep Bo Unofficial Understudy now has a cold. I hardly had a voice yesterday morning, but it got better and I refuse to think of illness as a possibility. I am not going to get sick. Decision made.

SHOW SEVEN (Thursday evening)

After a warning of no more ad libbing! (a rule, along with underwear is mandatory) and a re-visit of "Mi-ya Sa-ma" choreography, we all finished getting ready as the audience piled in. Another fantastically crowded audience, albeit a quieter one than we've been having lately.

Backstage, we had fun gossiping about about the back story of the prego chorusgirl. In reality, she's married; in the show, she's the slutty schoolgirl who had a fling with Nanki-Poo, which accidentally led to the incarceration of KoKo. Unless KoKo's really the father. Scandal in Titti-Poo!

Everything went fine until the Act I finale. At the end, Katisha barrels through the crowd, whacking at people, threatening everyone, and being generally angry and violent. Since my dance partner is the farthest stage right, they discussed shoving him so that he could fall back and emphasis her strength even more. Tonight, she growled and burst through us, shoving him aside. He flew back onto the floor, his kimono flipping up, legs sprawled out and showing a great deal of ballet pink tights.

There is a very good reason why underwear is mandatory.

Thankfully, he had remembered underwear but forgotten to wear shorts under his kimono, as everyone usually does. Since his kimono doesn't typically flap about too much, he also didn't pin it together so there was nothing holding it in place as he fell backwards.

That's one way to end Act I!

SHOW EIGHT (Friday evening)

I forgot to wash my tights last night, and when I got home from work, I opened the fridge door and there was  note taped inside that read, "YOUR TIGHTS ARE IN THE DRYER!" There was another tape to my bathroom mirror. Thanks, Mom!

Our make-up for the show involves cat eyes and bow lips, which are super cute. But if you mess up with liquid eyeliner, there's only so many times you can fix it before you look like a victim from Law and Order.

No kimono flashing tonight! However, Yum-Yum broke her mirror and promptly stole the next line, one of my bosses sat front row centre, and I sniffled and smiled and tried not to be sick.

(But I'm totally sick.)



Runny noses on stage are not fun.

BUT closing shows? So much fun! Every time we rushed off the stage, everyone would burst into "That's the last time I'll faint in your arms!" "That's the end of our train of little ladies!" "That's my last death scene! ...Hopefully."

As the curtain closed at the end of the show, we waited until the audience cleared out to take our cast photo. Then we booked it to the dressing room! Obis got packed, kimono sleeves were flying all over the place, shoes were manhandled (literally, one guy took off his ballet shoes and pitched them into the trash). 

I got dressed and leaped out of the dressing room all the way to the lobby to meet my brother and his girlfriend. When I got back to the dressing room, I finished wiping off my stage make-up and promptly replaced it with normal make-up, much to the amusement of my dance partner, who is very thankful to never wear stage foundation ever again, thank you very much.

Striking the set is beautifully choreographed chaos in which I take no part. I put my props away, clear my station, and help with the cleaning. I stay far away from power drills, splintering wood, and any kind of lifting that involves multiple people on the count of three.

The goal was to get everything loaded into the truck as quickly as possible--so we could all go to Boston Pizza and start partying. We were doing well until my friend--also my ride--realized she'd locked her keys in her car.


Our Lord High Executioner thought he could open it with a coat hanger, and our set builder went all MacGyver with a plastic bottle and double sided tape, but neither of them could break in. A dozen people from our cast and crew gathered and after about half an hour of waiting and hoping, BCAA arrived and popped open the passenger door.

Despite the late start, everyone was still in full adrenaline mode and wide awake when we finally all got to the restaurant. The director began with everyone's favourite part of the cast party: the crudes.

C.R.U.D.E's. Creative Really Unusual Dramatic Entertainment.

For Best Use of a Prop Without the Aid of a Director, I was nominated for dropping my fan and nearly killing the male lead, one of the girls was nominated for smacking one of the others in the face with a parasol, and the Yum-Yum won for breaking her hand mirror onstage and then promptly becoming so flustered that she gave away the punchline.

For Best Dialogue Without the Aid of a Script, KoKo, Pish-Tush and Pooh-Bah were nominated for threatening to behead an audience member ("Substitute!") when their cellphone rang mid-scene, KoKo was nominated for adding Nickleback to his list of people who wouldn't be missed, Pooh-Bah was nominated for using the word 'versimilatude' five times in one line, and KoKo won for calling the entire female chorus his "daughters."

My dance partner won for flashing the audience--repeatedly!--and then the ultimate CRUDE, the I-Wrote-The-Words-On-My-Gloves Award, was bestowed upon Pooh-Bah for his Preview Night slip-up when he forgot his scroll and had to scamper offstage to get it while everyone waited onstage.

After CRUDEs, came the Harmony award (to the male lead), the scholarship (to me!) and a special thank-you plaque to our choreographer for years of love, dedication, and general putting up with us.

One by one, people left. Some made speeches, most gave hugs, and eventually our Mikado family dispersed.

Till next show.