The Robin Hood Caper

The last show I acted in was "The Robin Hood Caper', by Fred Carmichael, directed by Jim Vincill.  I wasn't going to do it, but my best friend asked me to, so I did.  I'm glad I did.  It's the story of four old ex-cons who have reformed and now use their formidable "talents" to help others through their group, Charities Anonymous.  They meet two or three times a year to report on and plan and support these activities.

At this meeting, they discover that Flora's nephew is going to lose his newspaper to an unscrupulous, corrupt mayor.  A plan is layed, hatched, mislaid, cross-hatched, and scrambled.  But the show did not lay an egg.  It was funny, fun, and fundamentally a good show.  Audiences laughed.  We had fun.  The theater ghosts were happy to have the company.  And as long as the ghosts are happy, life is good.

Sorry 'bout that

To the 3 people who called, the 2 who emailed, and the one who took the time to really address "the list", "Thanks and I'm sorry."  I worried way too many people with this rant (see blog title) for it to be anything but destructive.  I had enough people telling me how disappointed they were with the show that I forgot about all those who enjoyed it.  90% of the problems originated from me drawing them to me.  I guess that doesn't get communicated very well in a rant.

I will direct again...someday...when the right show presents itself and I am no longer in pain.  Pain makes me grouchy and negative.  To those directing now, break a leg.  I love working with them.  Jim's enthusiasm and intensity. Gerry's creativity and calm and sly wit. Sandy's love of theater, dynamic casting, and personality.  I love Paula's smile and talent and sense of humor and her husband.  I love Carol's calm and natural acting.  I love John M being John M.  Dana is a dynamo with an amazing wife and son.  Roy works harder than almost anybody I know.  And the list goes on.

I said to someone today:  "I used up all my good karma when I got Kathy."  I meant it, but it's not true.  My karma includes the lessons I learn whenever I do a show, either acting, directing, or just helping out.  And any opportunity to learn those lessons is a blessing.  So don't worry.  Be happy.  Si jambo.

Willie or Won't he

I know I haven't published much here, but for once it was on purpose.  I realized that I couldn't write what I was seeing and feeling without pissing off a lot of people before the show opened and closed.  So here are my thoughts:

1. Directing sucks.  Unless you have a professional crew to get the jobs done, you have no time.  It's also really hard to chew out a volunteer who has screwed something up with the best of intentions.  It was all clear in my head, why can't they read what's there and just do it?

2. If you can't take criticism, don't do theater.  When people get mad or cry because I've told them they aren't doing it right (or that they are doing it badly), it makes it very hard to be honest with people about their performances and they don't grow.  Of course it's also hard when you don't really have anyone to take their place because it's community theater, unpaid, and there just aren't that many people around willing to endure the schedule.

3.  I can be a jerk, but I'm usually right and I'm the director, so there.  Just try it my way.  I know your mother thinks it's cute the way you do that but who cares...I'm the director who is responsible for making the WHOLE show the best it can, not just your universe altering solo.

4.  I cast a couple of parts badly.  My fault.  Mea Culpa.  Sue me.  Go Fish.  It's now too late, so let's make the best of what we got.  We're amateurs.  Yes, I know that Charlie won't face the audience for more than 3 seconds.  Yes, he rolls his eyes like he's having a seizure.  Yes, Grampa George won't learn his lines and reads them from cards in his lap.  Yes, that Oompa Loompa is a thief and a bully.  Now let's deal with it.

5. My set DESIGNS were great.  My set executions were not.  Enough said.

6. I know...the blueberry costume didn't work.  Should've rented one.  Leave me alone, I have a headache.

7. We made money.  Paid our bills.  Some of them/ya'll had fun.  I didn't.

8. (and last) Stick a fork in me- I'm done.  I will not be directing again for a while.  I had no fun, and we don't get paid for this crap.    Of course it may be a moot point as very few of them will work with me again anyway.  Got cursed out by my AD with people around.  Had my vocal director run out of the building rather than talk about a disagreement where I came down hard on her.  Had a couple say they were never doing theater with us again (not my fault there).  I'm getting to old and crotchety for this.