Sunday was a day of rest and that's what I did. After catching up on all the news, decided to go out and take advantage of the fresh air and beautiful weather. After touring the streets of Statesville, I found the K-Mart and bought different screws and washers for my knitting board to make the action smoother. Lo! Right there, in the same center was what turned out to be a great little Chinese restaurant.
Along with some sensational sushi, for a quiet little North Carolina town, the buffet they offered was filled with all my favorite things, each one cooked to perfection. I took advantage. When the bill came, imagine my surprise to find that the whole thing only came to $5.75! Had I entered a time warp!?! Some rip in the fabric of the universe? If only there were a way to transfer that price back to my world and time! If only we could steal the chef! If only one could eat Chinese food, every day! I know. I know. There are some of you that do, but I can't let go of other favorites, either. It's always something.
Decided to go to bed early (early for me, anyway) since my ride to the location was arriving at 6:55 in the morning. I really am getting excited about meeting George Clooney and the rest of the cast, and I must look my best.
Showing posts with label theatre. Show all posts
Showing posts with label theatre. Show all posts
Monday, May 07, 2007
Saturday, May 05, 2007
Leatherheads - Weekend Breather - Day Two
This was an easy day. Nothing to do but amuse myself. After a great night's sleep, I wandered down to the lounge area for the free breakfast. While it was very filling, I decided that tomorrow morning I would actually take myself off to either the IHOP or some other restaurant to have my eggs cooked the way I prefer. The hotel eggs were baked and thoroughly cooked. Great for feeding hordes of hungry folk but no way to get anything prepared individually. This is not a Hampton Inn fault. I simply prefer my eggs done differently, so I need to take myself out.
Wandering up and down the halls looking for the ice machine, I notice that each and every door has a unique rural picture placed just above the room number. Every other room on my floor has an inanimate object; mine, however, has a cow over the Liberty Bell. I choose to believe management was not sending a subliminal message to me.
I decided to stretch out my day. Returned to my room and caught up on articles that had to be submitted to Bella Online. Spent an hour, or so, going over my lines for different interpretations. Reread the script and clarified my notes. This kind of hard work deserves a reward. Time to treat myself to an early matinee before coming back to watch the Kentucky Derby at the Outback.
The movie I decided to see was Blades of Glory with Jim Ferrel. Since the rest of the world was watching Spiderman 3, two other couples and I shared a private showing. It turned out to be a really funny movie with some great ice skating by Ferrel. I had read somewhere that Jim had done a lot of skating in his youth, so this was a great opportunity for him to display his gift.
An hour before the Kentucky Derby bugle call, I went to the Outback to enjoy a meal while watching the race. My choices were Street Sense followed by Nobizlikeshobiz. Was there any better sight than Street Sense feeding the rest of the field his dust?
There was only one sour moment, when I was ready to kill, and that was not two minutes before the race started. I had been dining in my booth for more than 45 minutes waiting for the race to start, when a group of four walked in and decided to stand right in front of me, blocking the television. I really had to bend my body for any kind of view. My server noticed, came over, and asked what was wrong. I asked why these new folks could stand right in front of me to watch the race, rather than sit in an available booth. Since I had paid approximately $40 for my meal and they bought $2.35 worth of beer, how come they were able to come in at the last minute and block my view. Since they were almost right on top of me, at least one of the women in the group heard me and she moved them back out of my line of sight.
She apologized and I accepted her apology, but it should have seemed obvious to almost anyone that you can't stand immediately in front of somebody watching a television without blocking their view. And, to walk into a place as if you own it, without regard to anyone else, is just plain rude.
But, all's well that ends well. My horse came in, the meal was fantastic, and this was a day to simply do a little of this and a little of that.
Wandering up and down the halls looking for the ice machine, I notice that each and every door has a unique rural picture placed just above the room number. Every other room on my floor has an inanimate object; mine, however, has a cow over the Liberty Bell. I choose to believe management was not sending a subliminal message to me.
I decided to stretch out my day. Returned to my room and caught up on articles that had to be submitted to Bella Online. Spent an hour, or so, going over my lines for different interpretations. Reread the script and clarified my notes. This kind of hard work deserves a reward. Time to treat myself to an early matinee before coming back to watch the Kentucky Derby at the Outback.
The movie I decided to see was Blades of Glory with Jim Ferrel. Since the rest of the world was watching Spiderman 3, two other couples and I shared a private showing. It turned out to be a really funny movie with some great ice skating by Ferrel. I had read somewhere that Jim had done a lot of skating in his youth, so this was a great opportunity for him to display his gift.
An hour before the Kentucky Derby bugle call, I went to the Outback to enjoy a meal while watching the race. My choices were Street Sense followed by Nobizlikeshobiz. Was there any better sight than Street Sense feeding the rest of the field his dust?
There was only one sour moment, when I was ready to kill, and that was not two minutes before the race started. I had been dining in my booth for more than 45 minutes waiting for the race to start, when a group of four walked in and decided to stand right in front of me, blocking the television. I really had to bend my body for any kind of view. My server noticed, came over, and asked what was wrong. I asked why these new folks could stand right in front of me to watch the race, rather than sit in an available booth. Since I had paid approximately $40 for my meal and they bought $2.35 worth of beer, how come they were able to come in at the last minute and block my view. Since they were almost right on top of me, at least one of the women in the group heard me and she moved them back out of my line of sight.
She apologized and I accepted her apology, but it should have seemed obvious to almost anyone that you can't stand immediately in front of somebody watching a television without blocking their view. And, to walk into a place as if you own it, without regard to anyone else, is just plain rude.
But, all's well that ends well. My horse came in, the meal was fantastic, and this was a day to simply do a little of this and a little of that.
Friday, May 04, 2007
Day One on Location
After making sure that everything was taken care of at home, I eagerly set off for my wardrobe fitting at Leatherheads' wardrobe department in Statesville. What a delightful experience. Everyone I met was warm and friendly and made me feel very much at home.
The accounting office was enormous, yet, quietly hummed with efficiency. It was obvious that everyone knew their job and knew how to do it well. Whatever else, Mr. Clooney knows how to run a business.
When Wardrobe took me down to the living room to show me the choice of costumes, I immediately fell in love with a black dress that had a pointed lace insert. "That's the one I want," I told them. "Oh, no. There are several you will have to try on and we can make a decision, after that," she said. Being a good little soldier, that's what I did.
Well, the gods that be were smiling down on me, this morning. The only dress that fit me properly and would require absolutely no adjustments was the very one I wanted with all my heart and soul. After the choice was made, they let me know that it was the only one that had been imported from London and was a special favorite of everyone in Wardrobe.
The newest thing I discovered about filming was the requirement for either a physical social security card or your passport to verify citizenship. I thought I would have to go back home to get my passport because I had long since swallowed my Social Security card. (In the old days, we were told to memorize our number and then hide our card in a very safe place so that no one else would ever see it. I couldn't think of any place safer than mother Earth.)
It was only after much commiseration between me and their payroll rep, along with my giving my best sad hound dog impression, that I remembered a little card I had been given when I last renewed my passport. It looks just like a little credit card, so that you can carry it in your wallet, but it has all the right information on it that you need to give over to the authorities if you happen to lose your real passport while visiting another country. I asked some of my friends if they also had the duplicate card and most of them said they did not. So, I suggested they write to the US passport office and get one.
Before I could finally settle down, there was one more glitch. Even though my name was on the master list for a room at the hotel, I was the only one who didn't have a room. I called my contact and they sent someone over within 10 minutes to take care of it. Accommodations are beautiful and I was right across the street from a new multiplex theater, so I was able to catch up on all the films I had missed in the last couple of weeks.
I decided that the best way to settle in for this experience was to start with a nice, hot, bubblebath, and catch up on some much needed sleep.
The accounting office was enormous, yet, quietly hummed with efficiency. It was obvious that everyone knew their job and knew how to do it well. Whatever else, Mr. Clooney knows how to run a business.
When Wardrobe took me down to the living room to show me the choice of costumes, I immediately fell in love with a black dress that had a pointed lace insert. "That's the one I want," I told them. "Oh, no. There are several you will have to try on and we can make a decision, after that," she said. Being a good little soldier, that's what I did.
Well, the gods that be were smiling down on me, this morning. The only dress that fit me properly and would require absolutely no adjustments was the very one I wanted with all my heart and soul. After the choice was made, they let me know that it was the only one that had been imported from London and was a special favorite of everyone in Wardrobe.
The newest thing I discovered about filming was the requirement for either a physical social security card or your passport to verify citizenship. I thought I would have to go back home to get my passport because I had long since swallowed my Social Security card. (In the old days, we were told to memorize our number and then hide our card in a very safe place so that no one else would ever see it. I couldn't think of any place safer than mother Earth.)
It was only after much commiseration between me and their payroll rep, along with my giving my best sad hound dog impression, that I remembered a little card I had been given when I last renewed my passport. It looks just like a little credit card, so that you can carry it in your wallet, but it has all the right information on it that you need to give over to the authorities if you happen to lose your real passport while visiting another country. I asked some of my friends if they also had the duplicate card and most of them said they did not. So, I suggested they write to the US passport office and get one.
Before I could finally settle down, there was one more glitch. Even though my name was on the master list for a room at the hotel, I was the only one who didn't have a room. I called my contact and they sent someone over within 10 minutes to take care of it. Accommodations are beautiful and I was right across the street from a new multiplex theater, so I was able to catch up on all the films I had missed in the last couple of weeks.
I decided that the best way to settle in for this experience was to start with a nice, hot, bubblebath, and catch up on some much needed sleep.
Tuesday, May 01, 2007
Murphy's Law When Film Fame Calls
I have been wondering what was wrong -- why haven't I heard from the Letterheads' wardrobe department. In fact, in my insecurity, I have decided that they don't really need me and don't know how to tell me. This is patently absurd. I can't imagine anyone more capable of telling someone they don't need them, then a movie company. This is a business of rejection.
So, it was with great delight that I got the call on Wednesday asking if I couldn't come down on Friday for a fitting because they had forgotten to schedule me a few weeks ago, and there were no fittings allowed on shooting days. I would be filming on the following Tuesday through Wednesday, but they would put me up starting Friday. Time to hustle, get packed, and pay some bills.
Everything went smoothly until I tried to pay my Nextel bill online. This is something I have done regularly for the past year, or so. Without a glitch. Without a snag. Done in a second. So, I should expect the same experience, right? Suffice to say, in a word, that didn't happen.
Like most of those secured sites, Nextel has a page where you submit your payment, only once, and wait for the screen to clear giving you a confirmation number. Of course, that didn't happen. I made my payment, clicked submit, and then -- waited, interminably. I was able to leave my computer and accomplished other tasks, returning occasionally to check, only to find that the screen was still static. Finally, I simply closed the window, cross my fingers that the payment went through and was delighted to find a confirmation page pop-up on my screen. It's a good thing I have a high tolerance for stress.
And, it's a good thing that was the only online bill I had to pay.
Tuesday, January 30, 2007
Dead Man Walking School Theatre Project In My Life
Innocently uttering just four little words, "Okay, I'll do it," a short while ago, I set in motion a path for myself that has drawn me into deep reflection. Performing on stage, film, and clubs, for the better part of my life, this new role was accepted without worry but little background with its significance.
My agreement in reply to a friend's request to play the Mother in a production she was involved in and which she buffered with, "You know, just a few lines here and there --but it's a good play and you'll be helping the kids out . . ." How could I refuse?
What I had agreed to was participation in The Dead Man Walking School Theatre Project, the adaptation by actor and director Tim Robbins of Sr. Helen Prejean's award-winning book, "Dead Man Walking." In addition to the award-winning film, Mr. Robbins has created a powerful drama but -- contrary to most playwrights -- only allows productions through college and high-school theater partnership programs that include community outreach with workshops meant to explore how people feel about the death penalty through examination of their own belief systems. For what one community has done with the project in New Orleans, go here.
Well, the "little bit" I'm doing has grown into three small parts -- Mother of Sr. Prejean, a reporter, and a support group attendee -- along with scene-balancing "landscape" tableaux with the other actors also playing multiple roles. Not impossible; been done, before -- BUT, we are never allowed to leave the stage! It seems that our Director for the February 1-10 Cardinal Gibbons High School production loves this form of theatre and we get to do it, in spades!
Woe is me! I've discovered that age is definitly creeping up. Not as limber as I've been, my feet are screaming by the end of rehearsals. Of course, that's probably because rehearsals seem to take forever. The actual show is over before you know it!
Once you have performed in a Justice Theater Project, you are a member for life! So, I'll be leading a couple of workshops, once the play run is over as part of my outreach service. This is not proselytizing -- no pressure for anyone to change their beliefs, simply a forum to examine them and know why they feel as they do about the death penalty. (This is definitely when I wish I were 18, again. I knew everything, then! and decisions were so much easier.)
We open Thursday, which is just about when I'll have everything memorized!
My agreement in reply to a friend's request to play the Mother in a production she was involved in and which she buffered with, "You know, just a few lines here and there --but it's a good play and you'll be helping the kids out . . ." How could I refuse?
What I had agreed to was participation in The Dead Man Walking School Theatre Project, the adaptation by actor and director Tim Robbins of Sr. Helen Prejean's award-winning book, "Dead Man Walking." In addition to the award-winning film, Mr. Robbins has created a powerful drama but -- contrary to most playwrights -- only allows productions through college and high-school theater partnership programs that include community outreach with workshops meant to explore how people feel about the death penalty through examination of their own belief systems. For what one community has done with the project in New Orleans, go here.
Well, the "little bit" I'm doing has grown into three small parts -- Mother of Sr. Prejean, a reporter, and a support group attendee -- along with scene-balancing "landscape" tableaux with the other actors also playing multiple roles. Not impossible; been done, before -- BUT, we are never allowed to leave the stage! It seems that our Director for the February 1-10 Cardinal Gibbons High School production loves this form of theatre and we get to do it, in spades!
Woe is me! I've discovered that age is definitly creeping up. Not as limber as I've been, my feet are screaming by the end of rehearsals. Of course, that's probably because rehearsals seem to take forever. The actual show is over before you know it!
Once you have performed in a Justice Theater Project, you are a member for life! So, I'll be leading a couple of workshops, once the play run is over as part of my outreach service. This is not proselytizing -- no pressure for anyone to change their beliefs, simply a forum to examine them and know why they feel as they do about the death penalty. (This is definitely when I wish I were 18, again. I knew everything, then! and decisions were so much easier.)
We open Thursday, which is just about when I'll have everything memorized!
Wednesday, January 10, 2007
Greasing the Skids to Broadway
Watched NBCs "Grease, You're the One That I Want," auditions and I'm still in shock. I haven't yet fancied up to the idea of America choosing its Broadway Stars ala American Idol, but, obviously, this seems to be the trend. So, I won't belabor that.
What does bother me, however, about the process is the little regard some of those auditioning have for the viewing audience. The prescreening should have eliminated almost any contestant above the age of 25 to play the roles of Sandy and Danny, teenagers, on the live stage. Period.
Although time can appear to stand still visually, the human body and movement rarely retains the free motion of a teenager. I know. I know. Theater is illusion and older people have played younger parts for years. But, audiences aren't stupid, and the search should be for the most talented teenagers America has to offer.
Times have changed. Our young are being schooled in the performing arts, barely out of toddler clothes, and are quite skilled. For this revival production of Grease, I should think we would have more than enough young teenaged performers to choose from, without having to resort to using people too old for the part, as if the theater were in some backwater community putting on a show after the drug store closes.
Of course, this would take away from the joy of watching auditionees make total fools of themselves. Not that they can't dance or sing, (and did it, quite well, in their youth) but even the most casual glance in the mirror should tell them they are just too old for the part. Although, in that regard, I would have to agree that the show would be less entertaining for the viewers. But, come on, if these old fogeys are going to audition for part, the least they could do is look like a teenager.
I'm reminded of a production of Romeo and Juliet at Shakespeare's Avon Theatre, where the actor playing Juliet couldn't have been a day under 62! Try focusing on that story and feeling sorry for a 62-year-old with parent problems.
If they want it to sparkle, let the new Sandy and Danny reflect the blossom of youth. They are out there and we want to see them.
What does bother me, however, about the process is the little regard some of those auditioning have for the viewing audience. The prescreening should have eliminated almost any contestant above the age of 25 to play the roles of Sandy and Danny, teenagers, on the live stage. Period.
Although time can appear to stand still visually, the human body and movement rarely retains the free motion of a teenager. I know. I know. Theater is illusion and older people have played younger parts for years. But, audiences aren't stupid, and the search should be for the most talented teenagers America has to offer.
Times have changed. Our young are being schooled in the performing arts, barely out of toddler clothes, and are quite skilled. For this revival production of Grease, I should think we would have more than enough young teenaged performers to choose from, without having to resort to using people too old for the part, as if the theater were in some backwater community putting on a show after the drug store closes.
Of course, this would take away from the joy of watching auditionees make total fools of themselves. Not that they can't dance or sing, (and did it, quite well, in their youth) but even the most casual glance in the mirror should tell them they are just too old for the part. Although, in that regard, I would have to agree that the show would be less entertaining for the viewers. But, come on, if these old fogeys are going to audition for part, the least they could do is look like a teenager.
I'm reminded of a production of Romeo and Juliet at Shakespeare's Avon Theatre, where the actor playing Juliet couldn't have been a day under 62! Try focusing on that story and feeling sorry for a 62-year-old with parent problems.
If they want it to sparkle, let the new Sandy and Danny reflect the blossom of youth. They are out there and we want to see them.
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