To keep myself accountable as I write a YA novel about the construction of the Brooklyn Bridge, by the end of the 2014 ... I heretofore present my daily progress, thoughts, and issues.
Type monkey, type.
Once again, I was privileged enough to skip work and be a playwright for the day--a rare and much-appreciated occasion. On Thursday, I visited my friend Giselle's 5th & 6th grade drama class at Camp Kookookoos, a six-week day camp in Teaneck, NJ. For the last several weeks, these boys and girls have learned about drama while preparing a production of Saltlick and the Robot. Since I do live nearby, I visited their last rehearsals before the performance on Tuesday. The kids were excited to see me--Giselle had quashed their earlier beliefs that I was an old man (but she never said anything about being an adult)--and I tried not freak out from the attention.
As always, I am amazed that anyone ever memorizes a script--especially children--especially children who meet together for drama during a 40-minute club period once a week or so. The production value of Giselle's project was also a pleasant surprise. The children really took costuming themselves to heart (especially the girl playing the Sheriff, who repeatedly adjusted her folded-towel paunch), and used these trappings and props to create characters, as well a sense of comfort on stage. Oh, and Robbie the Robot was rather impressive, just amazing, really. So well done.
And during the rehearsals, I sensed that the difficulties of getting through a run-thru smoothly derived not from any lack of enthusiasm or competence on the children's part, but from the dearth of time available for rehearsal. If you can't run the show twice in a row or rehearse more than once a week, then lines (and props) get dropped, awkward pauses linger, and the ending scene remains foreign terrain. And I've finally come to the realization that with children and performing, more trouble comes with attentions spans rather than memorizing lines and blocking and emphasis--waiting to have to say a line and getting distracted rather than any anxiousness from saying that line or performing an action.
But really, Giselle and the kids (most without experience or even an initial interest in drama) are doing a great job, exceeding my expectations, and I think they definitely will impress their fellow campers at the show on Tuesday. Break a leg, kids!
It's been something of a long journey for the plays I wrote back in February. Before I continue with that story, concluding with the performances two weeks ago, I must place credit where credit is due. I just wrote some words down, but it was Giselle and Mandy and especially all the great students who put in the effort and created a rewarding experience for everyone involved: teachers, students, writers, and the large audience (one that rivals any of my other shows).
So around lunchtime on Thursday, June 24 the two adult drama classes at the Bais Ezra Dayhab in Sheepshead Bay, Brooklyn performed for their peers Saltlick and the Robot as well as a set of improvised scenes, the largest game of Charades I’ve ever seen, and a number from Mary Poppins (a crowd-favorite). Basically, if no one understood a thing about my play (Pies, robots, and dancing townsfolk?), then at least “A Spoonful of Sugar” would get the toes tapping and put a smile on each face before they went out the door. But the long semester of rehearsals and exercises really showed during the performances.
Just the courage to take the stage, whether to perform lines from memory or to act out a Charades clue (such as “swimming,” “baking challah,” and even “horseshoe crab”), was just amazing to see in person. You couldn’t miss seeing the confidence in their faces, the support they gave each other, and how they relished the opportunity to demonstrate their accomplishment. I had worked with the groups on three occasions before this, but I was surprised by the characters they were creating—when given the freedom to take on a role besides themselves—and the spontaneous moments of brilliance (in no particular order): the Sherriff, clearly and loudly delivering her lines; another actor for giving more life and expression to the Robot while remaining more in character than I thought possible; the actor playing Old Amos, nailing his demonstration of the robot dance; or the on-the-floor impersonation of a horseshoe crab; or the improvised exploits of a pair of sisters at the zoo together. And all the while, there were Giselle and Mandy stepping in where needed with lines, ideas, and directions to help everyone pull off their best possible work.
Could the audience hear or understand my play? Probably not. But could they identify the Charades clues acted out? Yes, rather well it seemed. And for those men and women stepping out of their routine, being entertained by live theater, and seeing their peers doing something only people on TV or film do—it just could have made their day. I know it made mine, and surely the same goes for everyone on stage.
