http://dctheatrereviews.com/review/2007/03/20/meet-john-doe/
Thursday, March 29, 2007
Podcast Interview with Andrew and Eddie
http://dctheatrereviews.com/review/2007/03/20/meet-john-doe/
Sunday, March 25, 2007
I know it's corny, but...
Here's a great blog on the Huffington about the film MJD. This writer finds the need to say "I know it's corny, but...", which is something I find myself saying all the time when I talk about how passionately I feel about MJD's message. We're all oh so sophisticated and edgy that we need to make excuses for our simple sentiments? Maybe, but we still have them and they have great power; that's where the "but" comes from. Read it.
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
"Stick a fork in us, Ma, we're done."
(That being a line from our last version of the show.)
Today is our last preview, which means our last rehearsal. Which means our last chance to tinker. Eddie and I were up till 1AM IM'ing back and forth different versions of three important lines, and basically losing our minds. I can't write any more music because yesterday I ran out of staff paper when I was revoicing four brass/wind chords in "Bigger Than Baseball".
All of which is a VERY GOOD THING.
Last night, I was having dinner at the Tex/Mex place in the building where we live, and the last five months, since starting rehearsals at Goodspeed, kind of hit me in the stomach. Ann has a line in one of her new songs: "Gave it a go and killed a forest"; I can't imagine how many reams of paper we've gone through, when you consider that just at Goodspeed we handed out 37 sets of new pages, and have since written four new songs, rewritten several others, and added and cut a few scenes and a few characters. I'm burnt to a crisp.
Is the show perfect? I don't think there is such a thing. Is it the absolute best we can make it? Yes. Is it ready for audiences? Definitely. Do we desperately need to not be writing this show any more? Oh yes. Now the theatergoers will tell us what they think of it, and if they're like our preview audiences, I think they'll enjoy the ride we're taking them on.
I have to go write 200 thank you notes now.
Today is our last preview, which means our last rehearsal. Which means our last chance to tinker. Eddie and I were up till 1AM IM'ing back and forth different versions of three important lines, and basically losing our minds. I can't write any more music because yesterday I ran out of staff paper when I was revoicing four brass/wind chords in "Bigger Than Baseball".
All of which is a VERY GOOD THING.
Last night, I was having dinner at the Tex/Mex place in the building where we live, and the last five months, since starting rehearsals at Goodspeed, kind of hit me in the stomach. Ann has a line in one of her new songs: "Gave it a go and killed a forest"; I can't imagine how many reams of paper we've gone through, when you consider that just at Goodspeed we handed out 37 sets of new pages, and have since written four new songs, rewritten several others, and added and cut a few scenes and a few characters. I'm burnt to a crisp.
Is the show perfect? I don't think there is such a thing. Is it the absolute best we can make it? Yes. Is it ready for audiences? Definitely. Do we desperately need to not be writing this show any more? Oh yes. Now the theatergoers will tell us what they think of it, and if they're like our preview audiences, I think they'll enjoy the ride we're taking them on.
I have to go write 200 thank you notes now.
Smoke 'em if you got 'em!
So it was the second preview. Solid show with some of those 2nd show wonkies sprinkled in. The sold-out crowd was eating out of Uncle Jokey's hand and falling in love with the Heidster and all the rest of the junk that goes on during the show. I slipped over to Hard Rock at intermission for a Heineken (Hey, I don't have a problem, YOU'VE got a problem, man!) And the second act cruised right along.
Now the last scene in the show has a fog effect that is super cool and we've been trying to get just right. Well...that night I was thinking it was pretty darn cool...sort of like a cemetery scene in Buffy when, at the worst possible moment, the theatre's fire alarm goes off. Halogen lights flashed as a pre-recorded voice instructed everyone to clear the theatre.
No one could believe it.
The actors, absolute pros, held their positions and tried to continue the show, but the voice kept on droning and the LAW, of course, required that the building be cleared.
Picture 600 people milling around in front of the theatre wondering what to do. Picture 3 fire trucks rolling up and the fire marshal striding into the theatre. Picture my Aunt Jane and Uncle Louie showing up in the crowd. Here's how it went down:
EDDIE: Aunt Jane?
AUNT JANE: Oh, hello, Eddie. What are you doing here?
EDDIE: My musical is playing here.
AUNT JANE: Oh this is the Ford's theatre. How nice.
EDDIE: What are you doing here?
AUNT JANE: Well you know how Uncle Louie likes fire engines...
The show went on, most of the audience filed back in to see the end of the show and Aunt Jane and Uncle Louie made it safely back to Ohio two days later. Love you two!!
Now the last scene in the show has a fog effect that is super cool and we've been trying to get just right. Well...that night I was thinking it was pretty darn cool...sort of like a cemetery scene in Buffy when, at the worst possible moment, the theatre's fire alarm goes off. Halogen lights flashed as a pre-recorded voice instructed everyone to clear the theatre.
No one could believe it.
The actors, absolute pros, held their positions and tried to continue the show, but the voice kept on droning and the LAW, of course, required that the building be cleared.
Picture 600 people milling around in front of the theatre wondering what to do. Picture 3 fire trucks rolling up and the fire marshal striding into the theatre. Picture my Aunt Jane and Uncle Louie showing up in the crowd. Here's how it went down:
EDDIE: Aunt Jane?
AUNT JANE: Oh, hello, Eddie. What are you doing here?
EDDIE: My musical is playing here.
AUNT JANE: Oh this is the Ford's theatre. How nice.
EDDIE: What are you doing here?
AUNT JANE: Well you know how Uncle Louie likes fire engines...
The show went on, most of the audience filed back in to see the end of the show and Aunt Jane and Uncle Louie made it safely back to Ohio two days later. Love you two!!
Monday, March 19, 2007
"8,000 Doe-Nuts Stand In The Rain!"
Our first paying audience suffers through freezing rain and wind.
Sunday, March 18, 2007
Front Page News!
Okay, so it's front page of the Washington Post Style section, but still! Writer Nelson Pressley talked with us for over an hour and wrote a terrific piece. The photo credit got us mixed up, but that's okay, so did Eric for the first few weeks!
Read it here.
Read it here.
A Tale of Three Runs
Apologies for the lengthy absence of posts, but this past week has been one long haul. Tuesday was the third "ten-out-of-twelve" (that's hours long) tech day with a stumble through with the band in the evening, then Wednesday was another tech-fix day and another sort of run. Our first real run was Thursday night, the invited dress rehearsal, with a crowd of about a hundred friends, supporters, volunteers, ushers, park employees (Ford's is a National Park, after all), and producers from Ford's and Goodspeed, as well as a friend and supporter of the show, Ted Shen.
It was a great, great show, everything coming together finally, tech snafus clearing up, the cast getting used to the lights and their costume changes and the raked stage and the band, etc., and I had a great time. After, the producers all met to confer and gave their thoughts to Eric. The report back was that they adored the second act but had a general note of slight concern about the first; this, of course, was exactly the opposite to Eddie's and my reaction. Between all of us, we joked, we have a hit!
We really couldn't imagine what they were hearing when they told us their concern, but during the first paid preview on Friday, I gave it a hard listen and I saw exactly what they were talking about. As a result, I didn't enjoy that performance too much, I was too busy trying to figure out what we could do to fix the issue. I should say I didn't enjoy it until the curtain calls — the audience was largely groups of high school students, who I was worried would find the piece too dark or old-fashioned or whatever, but they were the first to jump to their feet when Jim and Heidi came downstage for their bows. Some were crying. I went and spoke to one of their chaperones (I could spot them from their bright red "MHS" varsity jackets). "Where are you from," I asked. "We're from Marion, Iowa," she said, "and we've brought about 150 band and chorus students, most of whom have never seen a professional theater production." I tentatively asked her their reaction, and she told me they all loved it.
I felt pretty great that MJD was the first show these kids saw and it really seemed to speak to them. But we were still left with the first act issue. The only solution seemed to be to cut a number of John's, a song that was one of the first ones we ever wrote for the show, and a real favorite, not just with us but the producers, as well. Nevertheless, everyone agreed they wanted to try cutting it, and we reluctantly said okay, expecting it to be terrible and so obviously necessary to the show that it would go right back in. Well, second preview came, minus the song, and we had to agree the act plays better without it. Ah well, another for the trunk.
That was a nice surprise; what wasn't such a nice surprise was:
Washington Post Article Number 2!
I'll let Eddie tell you about this one, truly a moment for the scrapbooks.
It was a great, great show, everything coming together finally, tech snafus clearing up, the cast getting used to the lights and their costume changes and the raked stage and the band, etc., and I had a great time. After, the producers all met to confer and gave their thoughts to Eric. The report back was that they adored the second act but had a general note of slight concern about the first; this, of course, was exactly the opposite to Eddie's and my reaction. Between all of us, we joked, we have a hit!
We really couldn't imagine what they were hearing when they told us their concern, but during the first paid preview on Friday, I gave it a hard listen and I saw exactly what they were talking about. As a result, I didn't enjoy that performance too much, I was too busy trying to figure out what we could do to fix the issue. I should say I didn't enjoy it until the curtain calls — the audience was largely groups of high school students, who I was worried would find the piece too dark or old-fashioned or whatever, but they were the first to jump to their feet when Jim and Heidi came downstage for their bows. Some were crying. I went and spoke to one of their chaperones (I could spot them from their bright red "MHS" varsity jackets). "Where are you from," I asked. "We're from Marion, Iowa," she said, "and we've brought about 150 band and chorus students, most of whom have never seen a professional theater production." I tentatively asked her their reaction, and she told me they all loved it.
I felt pretty great that MJD was the first show these kids saw and it really seemed to speak to them. But we were still left with the first act issue. The only solution seemed to be to cut a number of John's, a song that was one of the first ones we ever wrote for the show, and a real favorite, not just with us but the producers, as well. Nevertheless, everyone agreed they wanted to try cutting it, and we reluctantly said okay, expecting it to be terrible and so obviously necessary to the show that it would go right back in. Well, second preview came, minus the song, and we had to agree the act plays better without it. Ah well, another for the trunk.
That was a nice surprise; what wasn't such a nice surprise was:
Washington Post Article Number 2!
I'll let Eddie tell you about this one, truly a moment for the scrapbooks.
Thursday, March 15, 2007
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
Bowin' the Vibe!
Okay, first of all, flickr is super cool. Much better than Google's on-line galleries (sorry Alexander!).
This picture shows our vibe player showing Andrew a great effect he can get by bowing a vibe "key" with the bow of a string bass. It's used during "He Speaks to Me".
Just click the pic to see a slideshow from the Sitzprobe a while back.
Monday, March 12, 2007
Tech: Day 1
This was just a first look at some of the very sexy lights they've brought in; I can't wait to see it when everything's cued!
Wednesday, March 7, 2007
The Sitz!
I’m sitting here at the sitzprobe for Meet John Doe. So much to say. First of all, we have the honor and luxury of having Tony, Emmy, Grammy and Oscar-winner Jonathan Tunick orchestrating. The rehearsal is over in Virginia at the beautiful new Signature Theatre (our director Eric Schaeffer is artistic director there, of course) in the Shen Rehearsal room, named after Ted Shen, a very good friend of Signature’s and of Meet John Doe, so there’s a lot of love in the room!
10 players including Music Director Jamie Schmidt at the piano. The entire cast waiting to sing their tunes, sound dudes, music contractor, Andrew and Jonathan sitting together pouring over the scores editing a part here, correcting a note there. That’s the scene.
Observations throughout the day:
- Overture: hearing the trombone bust out with the “Lighthouses” theme to kick off the overture was tremendously exciting. And something I think is particularly neato is that two of the latest songs we wrote made the cut to be featured in the overture. Makes me think we’re writing strong songs late in the game…well, we better be! Guy Paul, who sings “Lighthouses”, perked right up when he heard his theme kick off the show.
- In the opening sequence, when Ann first sings, the brass really kicks in and tells us a lot about who this character is. Rockin’!
- Jonathan came over at one point and we talked a little bit about orchestrating. He said that he prides himself on reading the lyrics (Yeah, baby!), and that he does to the music what lighting does to the physical production; his orchestrations highlight, color and warm.
- “I Hope You Can See This” is glorious.
- “Perfect Days” there’s all this trombone in it that strikes me as very MALE (the song’s sung by John). I’m sure there’s all sorts of other fancy-dancy stuff going on that gives this song’s orchestration it’s particular flavor, but to my ear, it’s the ‘bone that puts the backbone in it.
- Wow! The orchestration on “Be More” is so hot my ears are blistering up! Honestly, the entire room just sat up straight in their seats and started bobbing their heads and tapping their feet and looking around at each other as if to say “Whoa, that’s what this number is all about!” And that’s one thing I’m getting from today, the orchestrations to a certain extent tell our ear “Hey! This is the kind of song this is! Get ready to [fill in emotion here]!” I’ll bet that when Andrew composes the song, he hears a fully expressed palette of sound in his head that a piano, though very expressive, cannot hope to get across entirely. Well we’re all hearing the score in Technicolor today!
- “Money Talks”: Here’s comedy, folks. After Joel’s line, “Syphilis”, a baritone saxophone kicks in with this ompha sort of thing. That’s some funny stuff right there.
- Hey, a lyricist does have something to do at the sitz! There was one little section of the beautifully orchestrated song “He Threw Me” that had a hot brass lick that covered the end of a rhymed line I couldn’t hear. I humbly approached the music table for some help there, and they just taceted those measures so the sung lines were completely in the clear. Yay!
- I never knew that brass could be so warm sounding. I always just think of them as big blasting horns, but they’re so versatile! Makes me want to study trumpet.
OK, I’m going to stop typing and just enjoy the rest of this coolness.
Bowing the Vibe!
10 players including Music Director Jamie Schmidt at the piano. The entire cast waiting to sing their tunes, sound dudes, music contractor, Andrew and Jonathan sitting together pouring over the scores editing a part here, correcting a note there. That’s the scene.
Observations throughout the day:
- Overture: hearing the trombone bust out with the “Lighthouses” theme to kick off the overture was tremendously exciting. And something I think is particularly neato is that two of the latest songs we wrote made the cut to be featured in the overture. Makes me think we’re writing strong songs late in the game…well, we better be! Guy Paul, who sings “Lighthouses”, perked right up when he heard his theme kick off the show.
- In the opening sequence, when Ann first sings, the brass really kicks in and tells us a lot about who this character is. Rockin’!
- Jonathan came over at one point and we talked a little bit about orchestrating. He said that he prides himself on reading the lyrics (Yeah, baby!), and that he does to the music what lighting does to the physical production; his orchestrations highlight, color and warm.
- “I Hope You Can See This” is glorious.
- “Perfect Days” there’s all this trombone in it that strikes me as very MALE (the song’s sung by John). I’m sure there’s all sorts of other fancy-dancy stuff going on that gives this song’s orchestration it’s particular flavor, but to my ear, it’s the ‘bone that puts the backbone in it.
- Wow! The orchestration on “Be More” is so hot my ears are blistering up! Honestly, the entire room just sat up straight in their seats and started bobbing their heads and tapping their feet and looking around at each other as if to say “Whoa, that’s what this number is all about!” And that’s one thing I’m getting from today, the orchestrations to a certain extent tell our ear “Hey! This is the kind of song this is! Get ready to [fill in emotion here]!” I’ll bet that when Andrew composes the song, he hears a fully expressed palette of sound in his head that a piano, though very expressive, cannot hope to get across entirely. Well we’re all hearing the score in Technicolor today!
- “Money Talks”: Here’s comedy, folks. After Joel’s line, “Syphilis”, a baritone saxophone kicks in with this ompha sort of thing. That’s some funny stuff right there.
- Hey, a lyricist does have something to do at the sitz! There was one little section of the beautifully orchestrated song “He Threw Me” that had a hot brass lick that covered the end of a rhymed line I couldn’t hear. I humbly approached the music table for some help there, and they just taceted those measures so the sung lines were completely in the clear. Yay!
- I never knew that brass could be so warm sounding. I always just think of them as big blasting horns, but they’re so versatile! Makes me want to study trumpet.
OK, I’m going to stop typing and just enjoy the rest of this coolness.
Bowing the Vibe!
Monday, March 5, 2007
Wedding Bells for a former Doe-Nut!
Congrats to Jed Cohen and his lovely bride Kate Dawson, who were married on Feb 25th!!! Way to go, Jed!!! Here's a great article in the NYT.
http://www.nytimes.com/2007/03/04/fashion/weddings/04VOWS.html?_r=1&oref=slogin
http://www.nytimes.com/2007/03/04/fashion/weddings/04VOWS.html?_r=1&oref=slogin
Sunday, March 4, 2007
Keeping it light
Tomorrow is our first orchestra rehearsal. As a musical theater composer, this would inevitably be one of the top thrills of the whole rehearsal process, if not my entire year. But when the orchestrations are by Jonathan Tunick, not only does it become potentially the highlight of my career, but given neurotic tendencies (as any theater professional worth his salt will admit to), it brings into focus a lot of what I've been struggling with during this process but have spackled over with Enthusiasm and Optimism and, most exhausting of all, Hope.
We've known that Ford's would be the Big One for a year now. All our developmental steps along the way, from a writers' retreat to a workshop to a student production to a workshop production, have been important, but there was always the thought in the back of my mind, "Well, if we don't get it perfect here, that's okay, we'll fix it next time," or "It's only a workshop, it doesn't have to make theater history." Not to diminish in any way the importance of all those stops --truly the piece would not be anywhere near its current level of polish had we skipped even one of them -- but as a writer, you do tend to cut yourself a little slack, especially when you sense some sections are not as perfect as you'd like.
At the Ford's however, that slack is no longer an option. We certainly hope that Meet John Doe will have a long, healthy life after this production, but with this business, there are no guarantees. What if this is the last time we ever see the show and this is our last chance to get it right? What if subsequent productions lack the budget to build towering multi-level sets with uplights sunk into the deck or to hire a ten-piece band? If we haven't done absolutely, no-excuses, 100% everything we can to make this show perfect this time around, we may not get a do-over. So with all the excitement and jubilation about this spectacular opportunity, there comes a strange weight as well, a sense of responsibility to ourselves and to the show, a timer running out that for me is omnipresent, providing a touch of anxiety running under all the thrills.
So as I go into the orchestra rehearsal tomorrow, I tell myself that if I don't allow myself to enjoy it, I will take myself out into the middle of the street and kick my own ass. But on top of that come the voices, wondering if I did everything I could to make the score fun, moving, layered, surprising, catchy, original, etc. etc. etc., not knowing the dynamics of an orchestra rehearsal with new orchestrations, with a conductor and an orchestrator and a composer all having things to say, trying to be at peace with the fact that in the end, I have little control left, not being a drummer/trumpeter/sax player/vibraphone player, and that I'm rapidly becoming an audience member.
On the writing side, even though our remaining tweaks are at the word-choice level, they still feel to us as life-and-death as cutting a whole number. Is that the nature of the beast? Have we lived for so long with that level of decision that it's become like oxygen and we must now inflate the most minor of concerns to maintain the familiar feeling that we're making important decisions? Probably. I don't know if all these thoughts are interesting or even constructive, whether a young(ish) composer with such a blessing as a major regional premiere is even entitled to anything less than constant ecstasy, but there you go.
The Artistic Director just walked into rehearsal for our first designer run-through. I'm probably more nervous than I will be on opening, even though our run two days ago was the best version of the show I've ever seen, hardly a moment where I wasn't giddy with seeing everything clicking as we've imagined it for so long. Maybe I just need to make the choice to relax and celebrate, and trust that that won't mean I've stopped being critical, or am giving up for the last 500 yards of the marathon.
I'll let you know how that goes.
We've known that Ford's would be the Big One for a year now. All our developmental steps along the way, from a writers' retreat to a workshop to a student production to a workshop production, have been important, but there was always the thought in the back of my mind, "Well, if we don't get it perfect here, that's okay, we'll fix it next time," or "It's only a workshop, it doesn't have to make theater history." Not to diminish in any way the importance of all those stops --truly the piece would not be anywhere near its current level of polish had we skipped even one of them -- but as a writer, you do tend to cut yourself a little slack, especially when you sense some sections are not as perfect as you'd like.
At the Ford's however, that slack is no longer an option. We certainly hope that Meet John Doe will have a long, healthy life after this production, but with this business, there are no guarantees. What if this is the last time we ever see the show and this is our last chance to get it right? What if subsequent productions lack the budget to build towering multi-level sets with uplights sunk into the deck or to hire a ten-piece band? If we haven't done absolutely, no-excuses, 100% everything we can to make this show perfect this time around, we may not get a do-over. So with all the excitement and jubilation about this spectacular opportunity, there comes a strange weight as well, a sense of responsibility to ourselves and to the show, a timer running out that for me is omnipresent, providing a touch of anxiety running under all the thrills.
So as I go into the orchestra rehearsal tomorrow, I tell myself that if I don't allow myself to enjoy it, I will take myself out into the middle of the street and kick my own ass. But on top of that come the voices, wondering if I did everything I could to make the score fun, moving, layered, surprising, catchy, original, etc. etc. etc., not knowing the dynamics of an orchestra rehearsal with new orchestrations, with a conductor and an orchestrator and a composer all having things to say, trying to be at peace with the fact that in the end, I have little control left, not being a drummer/trumpeter/sax player/vibraphone player, and that I'm rapidly becoming an audience member.
On the writing side, even though our remaining tweaks are at the word-choice level, they still feel to us as life-and-death as cutting a whole number. Is that the nature of the beast? Have we lived for so long with that level of decision that it's become like oxygen and we must now inflate the most minor of concerns to maintain the familiar feeling that we're making important decisions? Probably. I don't know if all these thoughts are interesting or even constructive, whether a young(ish) composer with such a blessing as a major regional premiere is even entitled to anything less than constant ecstasy, but there you go.
The Artistic Director just walked into rehearsal for our first designer run-through. I'm probably more nervous than I will be on opening, even though our run two days ago was the best version of the show I've ever seen, hardly a moment where I wasn't giddy with seeing everything clicking as we've imagined it for so long. Maybe I just need to make the choice to relax and celebrate, and trust that that won't mean I've stopped being critical, or am giving up for the last 500 yards of the marathon.
I'll let you know how that goes.
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