The Final Curtain, Now What?
A Geezer’s Notebook, By Jim Foster
This column is a month and a half late, but it isn’t too late to say how wildly impressed I was with Mariposa Arts Theatre’s Jesus Christ Superstar. I liked everything about it and so did everyone else in the audience. It was certainly one of the finest things MAT has ever done.
But what I really want to write about is not the cast, excellent by the way, nor is it the fine choreography, the musical score (Andrew Lloyd Webber and Tim Rice, what else could it be but wonderful?), the theatrical and musical direction, or for that matter the overall production itself, but what happens the day after the final performance.
If you have ever been involved in a community theatre production you will know exactly what I mean. For weeks you have lived and breathed a show; it never really leaves your mind. If you are a director, a performer, or a musician, you think about it all the time. The theatrical production takes over your life and that is not always a good thing, just ask a wife or husband sitting at home.
But then comes that final curtain (oops, that sounds like Paul Anka). It is over. Where do you go from there? Are you relieved? Sort of, well you still have to tear everything down and cart it all away, of course. But that done, now you can relax and let it go, but wait, something is missing. I am supposed to be doing something, rehearsing and . . . no I’m not; it is really over.
The morning after the final matinee I went looking for the original on the Internet so I could hear the music all over again. I needed to re-hear it to try to fully understand what I had heard the day before. J. C . S. is not a normal musical. It is not like Oklahoma loping along on its way to a happy ending. This is serious stuff. People die. Les Miserable is the same. In both the story is tragic. People are dying all over the place.
In the olden days musicals were supposed to be fun with the hero and the heroine ending up living happily ever after. (All except My Fair Lady! Why Eliza Doolittle would end up with a pompous ass like ‘enry ‘iggins is beyond me. She should have taken his flipping slippers and rammed them up… I’m sorry, I do get carried away.)
Looking at just the leads, how do you handle a day when you don’t have to think about your character, your lines, the blocking and the mental exhaustion. You didn’t sleep last night, you tried to but your mind was racing. And God forbid what if you had made a mistake during the show, hit a wrong note or zigged when you should have zagged? Not one person in the Opera House would know it but you did and you keep thinking about it. It happens.
I was an elf in a play about the Elves and the Shoemaker at R. H. McGregor Public School when I was in Grade One and blew a line. I had one lousy line, all I had to say was ‘One, two, pick up a shoe’ or something simple like that, and I said ‘One, two, buckle my shoe’. Oh, the shame of it all. R. H. McGregor had its 100th anniversary two years and I didn’t go. I was afraid my Grade One teacher might be there and sneer at me and I would be humiliated all over again.
Back to Jesus Christ Superstar, after it was over and I thought about it, I wondered if I should have tried out for the production, well after bribing Christina Bosco, the musical director. I certainly could have hit the high notes assuming I had a fairly embarrassing and painful operation. But after the second hit of single malt it occurred to me that as young, vibrant and fit as I am today, there is a slight possibility my age, rapidly disappearing capacity to remember lines, or anything else, not to mention a couple of by-pass surgeries along the way, maybe not.
For one thing, my being on the stage could be a problem for the rest of the cast. If, for instance, during one of the more spirited choreographic numbers like climbing up and down ladders or running around like a madman, my 88-year old ticker should give out, what would they do? Of course, I would not be in any real danger because Jesus (Mike Moreau) was just a few feet away and would bring me back to life. Apparently Mike hangs around OSMH on the weekends just in case he is needed. On the other hand, Judas (Josh Halbut) would certainly want to betray me too for ruining one of his big scenes when he tripped over me and went splat right in front of Mary Magdalene (Maggi Robertson). Although Caiaphus (David Jefferies) would be happy to put me to death, apparently that was his job in Jerusalem and he liked to sing about it. My sudden passing and resurrection would at least screw up the timing.
My mind went back 25 years or so to the last musical I was in Fiddler on the Roof. Mine wasn’t a major role. I was in a pile of musicals but for some reason (probably the fact I can’t sing worth a sore ass) starring roles were never offered to me. In Fiddler I was a doddering old Rabbi. I thought my ‘May the Lord bless and keep the Czar… far away from us’ was quite impressive until after the show when the audience took up a collection to send me back to Russia. The first hundred bucks raised came from the director and the cast.
(Image Supplied)
