Thursday, May 19, 2011

Dress Rehearsal - or - Yes, The Director is Critiquing You

I zoomed out of work, already 45 mins late for my call. Nothing I could do to get out of work earlier. (Sorry.) I booked it home, changed clothes, grabbed Stitch and zoomed out to the Rink. I made it just in time to catch my Gold Trenchcoat looking pretty damn awesome on the ice. I got Stitch to the dressing room, got him in skates, and went up into the rafters to learn that someone was waiting for me to relieve them on Spot #3. Okay, done. (Side Note: They were still one operator short, so Dad had been drafted earlier in the day. There was much eye rolling from him and giggles from me.)

Dad's on Spot 1, I'm on 3, and this is cool because these spots often work in tandem on soloists. So we're doing as well as we can, but I can't find the iris on my spot and the chopper is loose yet sticky at the same time, plus it's way too high for me but it can't be lowered anymore. So, I'm doing weird yoga poses to hit Ice Left, plus randomly opening the damn thing when the chopper decides to work. (Dear Altman Family: The Altspot is the worst spotlight design ever conceived. WHY did you put the focus operation as a damn slide pole thing off the back that is stupidly close to the chopper, which is some stupid twisty thing that makes me want to kill people. Did you use the damn thing before you put it out to market? Frack sake!) I'm hot, my hair is down so I'm way hot, and I know there's a hairclip in my purse and a Diet Coke not far off, taunting me with their nearness.

Again, the spot operators are being tasked with lighting "everyone," which I now know to be absolutely true because the "LD" or whatever has left the Com on so I can hear quite a bit of the chatter coming from Mysteria in the booth. Holy crow. Ladies, she sees you. She sees you and she is weary of your screwing around. Frankly, all of the crew is. It is not cute. Do your program and get off the ice. Be cute at the cast party, not now.

Again, the spot ops are being given conflicting and seemingly random instruction. Ideally, the spots should cross the ice in order to get the widest beam angle and cover the most ice. But we're being told otherwise, a lot. I was frankly ignoring stupid instruction and going Ice Right a lot to cover group numbers, and the LD stopped correcting me. Dad was doing likewise. While I couldn't communicate directly with him, I could see it. Mysteria is saying something, but whatever.

Okay, I'm hot. Spots 2 and 4 are lighting someone and I make a grab for the hairclip. I've got a minute. I toss off the headset and throw up my hair, making it in time to catch the next girl. I'm following her and there's a Mom sitting nearby.
"Pssst! Pssst!!" I get her attention.
She looks up at me.
"Can you open that for me," I point to the Diet Coke with my toe. I've taken my shoes off, I'm so hot. Those pars are clearly 1000watts, nothing else explains this heat.
She obliges me and I still can't drink it because the mic is in the way. Damn.

We're redoing group numbers at a stupid rate. What the hell. I can hear Mysteria. "Well, it's okay but there's no finish, I don't get it." Did you not see this at the prelim run-through?? There's talk about the sequins, lack of sequins.... whatever. Why are all the girls in this number dressed differently? Why is Batman's cape not secured to his arms? When he does a jump it's in his face. No Capes!!

Stitch's number goes on. We're a boy short. Seriously? All the boys are thrown for a loop with the absence of a critical one, and so Stitch is quietly giving orders. They do their best, but one takes a hard fall and it's off. Stitch is not happy, I can tell from up here. I prepare to face a grumbly Stitch. 

For some reason the boys linger in the house, and so I wave for Stitch to join me up in the rafters. He's grumpy. Understandable. (The boys were also somehow skipped when it came to the "finale," so they weren't announced at all and were brought out as it was ending. Why don't boys skate? I can tell you why.)

Finally we seem to be done. I drop my headset and suddenly some other girl is on the ice, posing. What the frack. Headset talks: "Uh, she missed her solo in Act 1 so we're doing it now." Yes, this makes sense. We do her number, and if I don't pee soon, there's gonna be hell to pay. I start down and here comes Dad.

"Why didn't you iris down?"
"Because I can't find the damn iris! This thing is dumb as hell!"
Dad comes over, and the LD comes over. I introduce myself and tell them to fix the damn light. They set to work, determining that there is an iris, but a set screw is loose somewhere and is impeding the movement. Whatever. Design is dumb. Full stop.

I get Stitch to the dressing room, now abandoned, and he changes clothes. Things wind down. I talk with Rink Pal, Dad is shaking his head, Stitch has five bucks that is burning a hole in his pocket. He buys chips and we set off into a eerie misty night. Dad says the LD knows that better followspots are sitting in the shop, but the Rink did not want to pay for them. Go figure.

I came home, took in Stitch's pants and added elastic at the feet. With the loose bottoms they look like Marcel Marceau pants. Silly. Mother in Law brought me booze, hooray!

Tomorrow is the real deal, so should be fun. With any luck, all four boys will be present, but I'm not placing money on it.

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