Music is church, dancing is therapy, the craft of theatre is school, and a theater is home. I spend as much time making myself at home at "home" as humanly possible. I am more comfortable and satisfied in a theater--dressing room, rehearsal room, stage--than anywhere else. This time one year ago, I was falling in love with the musty, worn-in, safe confines of the Kalita Humphries upstairs dressing room. I am enamored with that ridiculous building. I love its windiness and likelihood of injuring me at any given moment. I love that Frank Lloyd Wright designed it. I love thinking of all of the talented people who preceded me in those dressing rooms. (You can read my Kalita-love-letter from a year ago here.) Perhaps one of the things I loved most about the Kalita, however, was knowing that Dallas Theater Center had occupied that space for fifty years.
Fifty. Fifty years and hundreds of shows and millions of patrons witnessing theater in one space. Isn't that wonderful?
That space felt like warmth and magic. I'm not a big "aura" or "energy"-word-user, but the Kalita truly has an identity; you can feel it. (It also has a ghost, but that's a whole other story.) Backstage at the Kalita, there is a cement wall coated in actors' autographs/memos/random scribbles. It's a wonderful, old-theatre-y tradition and a constant reminder of how prolific that space really is. And during Dirty Rotten Scoundrels, it was a daily reminder that I was working in a space formerly (and still occasionally) occupied by Dallas Theater Center. It set an expectation of professionalism, if nothing else.
During Dirty Rotten, the Theater Center announced their 2010-2011 season. When I saw that they were doing a musical, my jaw dropped. When I realized they were doing two, I thought I was going to cry. When I saw that those two were Cabaret and the Wiz, I nearly peed my pants. Truly. I apologize for the unattractive image, but I really was stupefied.
And then I told myself that I would be apart of those shows.
Did I think this was possible? Heck no. Even a possibility? Please. But I hoped for it. Even prayed for it. Really hard. In my head. For a long, long time. Just to get the ball rolling, I submitted my headshot and resume to the Theater Center with a cover letter expressing interest (and an apology that I couldn't make it to general auditions.) I figured: what have I got to lose?
I--probably like every actor--have a seasonal "wish list" of the shows I dream of having something to do with. I've been incredibly lucky in terms of realizing that wish list over the past 2.5 years. Cabaret was on mine for about a year, but I never thought it would happen. Fast-forward six months: auditions are announced. Cue panic attack, song-selection, audition-outfit-selection, fretting, and endless dreaming. Cue me hugging Jeremy Dumont so tightly at auditions that he nearly suffocated. Cue us verbally telling each other that it would happen.
We both got called back. Initial thought: YES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Second thought: CRAP THERE'S MORE.
Callbacks go exceedingly well. Fast forward a month. Jeremy's heard/is cast. No word for me. SMU auditions happen. Go to their callback for Cabaret. It goes well. SMU cast list goes up. I'm cast. I cry. Happy, happy tears.
Fastforward six months. I begin rehearsals at the Wyly. I am intimidated and confounded and instantaneously amorous of the cast/production team and wondering if my presence is a joke. Or a mistake. Strangely, it's neither and they really do want me (do I sound like Sally Field?) and I...belong...here.
The Wyly has its own magic (and very, very special weather-unfriendly elevators.) The 9th floor terrace is the most ingenious architectural idea ever--particularly for a theatre. The terrace is covered in covered in faux-grass, is outdoor/patio-y, and overlooks downtown. If I could plant a hammock out there, roll a piano out, and hire a cabana boy, I'd never leave. Heck, if I could, I'd never leave as it is. And during a thunderstorm...oh, it's just heaven. The dressing rooms, on the other hand, are still a little too pristine new and white. They scare me. I'm a messy person. Or maybe I'm prejudiced. Or colorist. Whatever.
A moment to gush about the cast/team. I've never been so spoiled in my life. Everything is labeled, everything is personalized, everyone is an adult, and everyone is lovely. Most importantly, there's always coffee. How does this happen??? I had a costume built for me. For me. Tailored to my body. There was a sketch and it had my body in it. WHERE AM I??? Heaven: that's where. Divas? Egos? Where? I don't see them in this cast. I should also mention that I have never learned as much watching fellow actors as I have in this show. The bravery and honesty in this cast--especially Wade, Kate, and Julie--is (for me) unprecedented. I want to be like them when I grow up. They're also three of the nicest people alive. I first fell in love with Kate in Sarah, Plain and Tall at DTC. She played a 12 year old and I was wholeheartedly convinced that she was one. She singlehandedly stole the show and I thought to myself, "Good gracious, who is that amazing child actor?" (though in less formal jargon) and in the talk-back that I stayed after to watch (because--obviously--I'm a nerd) I discovered she was an adult. (Whaaa???) But it made me feel better about being so much less talented than a 12 year old. At any rate, when Cabaret was announced I literally immediately hoped they would use Kate as Sally. By that point, I'd had a talent crush on her for a year. Over the past year, it's only gotten worse thanks to her hilarious webseries "Submissions Only" which she writes and stars in. (a) youtube it. You won't regret it. b) People this talented infuriate me. But she's nice. And pretty. So the hatred stops immediately.) Wade McCollum is our emcee and his bravery and versatility boggle my mind on a daily basis. (Plus, he has a totally rockin' bod. It's reason enough to come see the show. I promise.) I'd heard the praises of Julie Johnson for ages but hadn't ever seen her perform/work with her. She's such a smart actress--and so fearless of vulnerability. It's such a gift as a young actor to be surrounded by these people and learn from them.
I am thanking my lucky stars every moment.
I'll gush about a couple more people and then I'll shut up, I promise. One of the most significant recurring challenges with musicals is marrying the music/scenes/dance in a way that doesn't seem like you're doing three shows...or, that there's scenework going on and then someone breaks out into needless song/dance. (Hence why actory actors oftentimes dislike musicals. However, I also find that actory actors who passionately hate musicals oftentimes can't sing or dance. So I have a secret theory that they're just angry actory actors with musical theatre queens burrowed inside. I digress.) When you have the luxury of a (highly skilled) director/choreographer at the helm of a huge production, marriage of the three elements is much more seamless. The whole production is cohesive and story driven--set, costumes, casting, music, choreography. It's remarkable. Beyond this, he's created the most fun, focused, and open process/rehearsal environment...which is an immense gift to a cast. The biggest challenge for the director/choreographer is the need for a clone of oneself to do choreography while the other does scenework. Fortunately, Joel has Kent--his mindmelded brother-from-another-mother who is sickeningly talented, driven, and brilliant to work with. The music direction/orchestration/band are all genius as well. (We even have an accordion. If that isn't cramazing, I don't know what is.)
Essentially, this dream that I have somehow realized has infinitely superseded my expectations in every way. The good news is: I've learned insane amounts, I've fallen in love with a marvelous group of people and the Theater Center, and I'm truly proud to be apart of (what I think) is a solid and beautifully done production. The bad news is: I'm spoiled for life. I'm really not sure where "up" is from here, but if I can occasionally dabble back in this dreamworld now-and-again between my stints in the real world, I will continue to be thrilled and remarkably blessed.
Thank you, cast/production team of Cabaret and DTC for allowing me to grow and play with you. It really has been a dream and I am so grateful.
