Tags: theater


High Drama, Low Comedy

Alas, I was not cast in any part for "Best Little Ho-house." Nada. Zip.

A bummer at first--slightly damaged ego--but ultimately a relief. First, confirmation that politics and favoritism rule at the Palace. (Silly me: I thought I may have judged too harshly two years ago.) Second, no rehearsals to affect home life and Husband's comfort. He was quite supportive, but me being gone every evening would have been very hard on him. Finally, I have verified to my own satisfaction that I'm a real grown-up: no sturm und drang; nothing more than a brief disappointment and then life went on. I would have been great in the part; I didn't get it; oh, well. Pretty amazing to have amassed so much perspective in the past decade or so. It helped a lot that Daughter and Son-in-Law were visiting and provided funny YouTube videos to soothe my aforesaid slightly damaged ego. ("What, what?")

I'd like to have somewhere to sing. Church is out (shudder); San Gabriel Chorus is a bunch of over-the-hill Sun City vocal wobblers (double shudder), and the Palace's next musical, "Nunsense," won't run until late in the summer, if I decide to go back.

The irony of my cowgirl life is that my horse Sara doesn't like me to sing to her, softly or otherwise. Not even "Happy Trails"! No accounting for taste.


I've pondered for several days before engaging the Critic in me, which is, in this case, inextricably linked to the Mom.

First, one must begin by acknowledging that this is a Vortex production, which should frame one's expectations from the start. Vortex just has a unique take on drama.

Second, this is a Vortex adaptation of an ancient tragedy, which means that it is sadder-than-sad, darker-than-dark, more tragic than the fall of Troy. The adaptation also means that some of the interpolated lines can sound pretty sappy.

That said, I must observe that this is the best Vortex production I have yet to see. The singing is wonderful, and the Chorus rocks!. I have insider knowledge that the score was extremely difficult, and the accompanists sometimes throw curve balls to the singers. Despite that, the Chorus breathes life into the show. They curse, they cry, and oh, do they sing. They go from Maori-war chant-type cursing to yearning elegies for lost Troy, and they make the scenes live. I often regretted the end of an Ode, wanting the singing to keep telling the tale.

A caveat: the Priestess is my daughter. I try to be objective, but she was truly excellent in all she did. She has broadened her sweet tone nicely, and she becomes her part. Brava, my darling girl!

The Best Little Whorehouse, etc.

I've made it through the audition and callback for the Palace Theatre; looks like I might be in as the brothel's maid, Jewel. Originally the part was for a black woman, but G-town is so blonde there were only three middle-aged white women who were in the callbacks. The other two could not sing worth a flip, while Yours Truly truly nailed the blues/jazz song "Twenty-four Hours of Loving."

I had hesitated to audition for the Palace again, what with politics and divas and all, but last night I was most pleasantly surprised to be greeted as a long-lost friend by many people I knew from the other two productions I was in. Now I'm really looking forward to evenings devoted to rehearsals--lots of knitting and embroidery gets done while waiting for a cue--and to that ultimate high of APPLAUSE.

I have to keep reminding Horn Dog Husband that I'm not playing one of Mona's Girls, that I don't need to practice brothel "activities," but after singing "Twenty-four Hours of Loving," about twenty-four times before I got home last night... well... Let's just say he is reconciled to my evenings out.