Into every life . . .

As my mother tells me when things get tough:
Into every life a little rain must fall.
Well Mum, it's raining. I'm proud and happy to be on such a wonderful opportunity of a tour- for a reputable company with a producer who produces MAJOR works such as The Faithy Healer and more recently LEGENDS (w\Joan Collins)-- but somedays, sometimes, it's hard to remember the good things and all to easy to dwell on the negative.

Our set is beautiful- but I'll say it and i won't deny it later, Our set is somewhat of a death trap, and was certainly not desigtned or constructed with the full comprehension of daily set-up and strike coupled with trips in and out of a u-haul, and the hazards of a long road journey. To be perfectly frank I wonder what in the world they were thinking designing this thing out of steel and heavy wood-- durability, i suppose, but the thing MUST be, NEEDS to be, by virtue of it's purpose in life both durable AND portable. We had problems with the thing in Boston and they refused to listen, Day one on the road the proscenium was torqueing, the paint was scraped horribly (why didn't a protective finish go in it I wonder?) and literally CHUNKS of it were sacrificed the the RYDER gods.
It is banged up. It is less than safe. It is one week in and we have some serious issues, but all we keep hearing is: Make it work, the show must go on.

So we do. We keep going. . .


Then, thursday, we had what is called in the business an EDISON DAY. This means that we are plugging about 2 dozen or more stage lights and dimmers into what is no different than the outlets in your home.


This means many groan-enducing things.
1) We have alot of additional cable to run with alot of adaptors being used.
2) we have some serious patching to do in the computer to make the lights run the way they are intended. and
3) we are far more likely to run into technical difficulties...

I remember once at my house running the hair dryer at the same time mum turned on the garbage disposal and we tripped a circuit. heeheeehee. This was a much bigger deal.
Halfway through sleepy hollow the lights just quit. Pop. gone. Only one branch of front lights remained, but Our electricians board was dead, her monitor was dead, she had no control- not even ON\OFF let alone dim or color or anything remotely helpful.


^ This is what our lighting intruments have for a plug. Then, in a theatre equipped for actually doing theatre, they all tie into a net box which is labeled and numbered and where all the technology speakks the same language and we aren't forced to run extensions out 8into the hall ways. The head janitor or somebaody came abackstage at in termission and asked: "Where are you plugged in?" Our Electrician just looked at him in disbelief for a moment and then said : "EVERYWHERE!!!"

And then if we did reset the breakers (should we be able to find them in time) who was to know the extent of the damage? Massive power surges tend to cause lamps to blow en masse and Nicole's (our electrician) computer monitor showed all the signs of being shot. It refused to show anything other than a black screen after many attempts at revival.

Ah well. We somehow sorted the majority of the issue out over our very brief intermission and finished the show with some more frustration and our fingers crossed, and then we're told by headquarters thnat that sort of massive power failure happens all the time in many of the venues they've booked for us, and that we should expect to encounter it again. thanks. why book us in places that can't handle even our meagre traveling technology? The answer is of course, the Almighty Dollar. Back at headquarters they get a report that says we completed the show, which means no refunds, and all it well. For us, the ones who had to live it, it isn't so neat and tidy. It was emotional.

But for all that, Carmel Middle School was actually the most involved audience we've seen so far-- even with all the technical difficulties. They reacted vocally to the Narrator's murder of the old man in The Tell Tale Heart and all actually visibly leaned forward to try and see the hacked up body when the policeman tears up the floor boards. They applauded loudly, laughed in all the right places and buzzed excitedly between scenes, discussing the irony in The Necklace, the creepiness of the zombie in The Monkey's Paw and the adorable-ness of the Frog in The Celebrated Jumping Frog of Claveras County. All-in-all i believe they enjoyed it, were captivated by it, and will likely think of it long after we're gone. And that's why we're doing it after all, that's what makes the SNAFU's worth it.

Love and missing home,
BETH