Chapter 12 Ho Ho Horror

The argument is already in full swing by the time we enter the theatre. Several cast members had an early morning rehearsal, leaving the rest of the cast to lounge in their beds one extra hour. 

We arrive at the casino, enter through the theatre doors, and head down the ramp to the stage. We place our dance bags on the tables and everyone pretends that we don’t hear anything. Silently, we all glance at each other.

"Fuck you" screams The Director, "I am senior show director at the parks, and when I give you a direction, you take it, you don’t ask me any questions." The cast member that he is screaming at is in tears, and she has begun to shake. She puts her head down, and quickly walks the ramp at the front of the stage. He follows her as she walks over to her dance bag, pulls out paper and pencil and begins to write. As if in a television episode, she speaks her thoughts out loud as she comically writes with large gestures. “Dear mom this place sucks, the director is an asshole.” With that she glances at The Director and storms up the aisle out of the theatre.

In rehearsal, whenever we ask this director for character development he tells us to watch the cartoon version of the film. As we all know cartoons are all trained in the Stanislavsky method of acting.  Soon the response to his series of questions including “Why can’t you move faster?” “React bigger?” “Jump higher?” is summed up best by a cast member who screams out “Because we aren’t fucking cartoons!” I’m surprised that no falling anvils are placed into the shows.

Another day spent with lunatics. Another cast member and I pretend we are in strait jackets with our arms tied behind our backs; we rock back and forth and sing “It’s a small world.”

The Choreographer doubles over with laughter at another one of his funny ideas, no one else laughs. When he has one of his brilliant ideas, we are in deep shit. He comes up with new dance steps for a part we have already learned, the steps look all too familiar because they are usually taken from a current Broadway show. We find that if he doesn’t take the steps from the show, he steals them from their television commercial.

After two hours of this new idea, someone asks for a break. "I always give breaks”, he responds. "I came from the Equity theatre" and "I will give one when I am ready".

Blue in the face and gasping for air, we move forward. One of the cast members begins to slow down, her face is flushed and she bolts into the wings. I follow. She is doubled over and crying."Two down", I think to myself.

"I can’t do it, I can’t,” she sobs. “I was hired as a singer, and this is putting a lot of pressure on my knee". “You can do it, I say, now get back out there before we get in trouble.” “I won’t go back out there, this is bullshit,” she says.

I go back on to the stage and get The Directors attention. "What now?” he screams at me. I tell him what’s going on and one of the choreographer’s assistant’s walks into the wings. Unfortunately, the cast member in trouble has danced herself right into a meeting scheduled for the next day.

We break for lunch, its pizza again. We all meet at the pizza parlor in front of the theatre, and go over our early morning woes. When we return our flight information for our break has been posted. None of us are leaving on the same day.

to be continued...........


Geoffrey Doig-Marx holds all written and electronic rights to his writting "Not Only Magic Floats". It can not be reprinted in part or whole without his written consent.