I know what you’re thinking, “um no, that’s stupid”. You may be right, but let’s talk about this for a second. “It” was the breakout movie of the summer, gaining critical and audience acclaim. “It”, also managed to become the highest grossing September release of all time. “It”, also, has a huge following among young adult audiences. So, to recap, financial success, well received, and loved by young people. If only Broadway had a history of turning movies with those three things into successful shows. That would be as crazy as turning “Legally Blonde” into a musical, or “Catch Me If You Can”, or “School of Rock”, or even that weird cult movie from the 80’s, “Heathers” ….

Quick-changing set pieces

These have tremendous advantages and again are used already very widely. Having simplistic but multi-dimensional set pieces, for instance blocks that fold out or have different colours on various sides, can make a piece of theatre both more slick-looking and more emphatic. If there are fewer things to look at in a set, those things become instantly more important because they draw more focus. In a grandiose Edward Gordon Craig inspired set, there'll be loads to take in, to the point where the design means something as a whole, and creates a strong impression, but has less specificity in memory. If all one sees on stage is a keyboard, its meaning and implications run with the story and character and serve to empower them. 

Over the years, I’ve had the privilege of working with some amazing people in various productions; people who sacrifice so much time and always bring a positive attitude. I wouldn’t hesitate to work with these folks again.

I knew that being in a musical instead of the production side of things was going to be a learning experience.  I also knew that the director is the director of the show for a reason and that they have a vision of the show that they want to bring to life. 

The 1961 Broadway musical, How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying, follows an ambitious window washer’s ascent up the corporate ladder.  Along with “Coffee Break” and “It’s Been a Long Day,” another of the show’s memorable songs is “A Secretary is Not a Toy.”  In this scene, the company personnel manager gives a speech to the male employees; “Gentlemen. Gentlemen./ A secretary is not a toy/ No, my boy, not a toy/ To fondle and dandle and playfully handle/ In search of some puerile joy./ No, a secretary is not,/ Definitely not, a toy.” 

As actors, we are taught important rules about acting. But how many of those rules really stand up to scrutiny? And in truth, should these rules have such a hold over the way we behave on the stage as adults in comparison to when we were younger? 

I have been involved in the theatre realm in a variety of ways over the past several years: as an actor, stage manager, dramaturg and running crew member. In all of those positions, I have seen a common trend: very little to no thanks given to the technicians.

I have never felt it useful for actors to read their own reviews.  I did it as a young actor, as most do.  I was looking for affirmation but when I didn’t receive it, it was foolishly heartbreaking.  Of course any review is only one person’s opinion.  Whether that opinion should carry more weight than that of your director or producer or writer or mother is questionable.  But the bottom line is that actors don’t have the power to change anything.  

Months ago, I was watching a musical that included some very impressive choreography. It didn't hurt that this local production also had quite a number of talented dancers in the ensemble. 

One moment in particular that I found most impressive was a group tap number, but even when the company did synchronized wings, the audience hardly reacted. However the moment that four characters did a kickline, you would have thought they were receiving a standing ovation. 

You go to school, you go to class. You sit and listen to the teacher. You absorb everything like a sponge, work through the new techniques in class, with your scene partners, and at home alone.

Then you notice everything you learn in the performances you watch.

And it never. Goes. Away.