"People come and go so quickly here!"

This is the first chance I have had to sit down and blog since early June.  Well...the first chance I have had to sit down and blog...while inspiration is flowing.  I have so many things to say...so many thoughts to put down.  Let me start and then we'll make sense of it as we go. 

Auditions have come and gone (not without tears and heartache from me and the Favorite), we have an amazing cast and have wrapped up the first week of rehearsals.  Words truly fail me when I try and describe the level of happiness, excitement, elation and honor I experienced at our initial read through.  So many talented and wonderful actors and actresses...and so many adorable and amazing Munchkins!!  I could go on and on and on...and probably will do just that at some point....but I want to give a quick run down of Oz by the numbers:

Directors: 2
Music Director: 1
Stage Manager: 1
Assistant Stage Managers: 2
Choreographer: 1
Nights of auditions: 2 plus 1 night of callbacks
Auditionees:  106 approx.
Cast Members: 50
Seizures of joy: 4
Times I shed tears of joy this week: 6 approx.

The weeks leading up to the auditions and the first rehearsal were spent hashing out design concepts and logistics.  One night, in the middle of a discussion about scenery, JDB3 asked me such a remarkable and confoundingly SIMPLE question that it rendered me totally speechless for approximately two minutes. 

"What is our overall concept?  I mean, is it a dream or did Dorothy really GO to Oz??" 
Me: Blank stare....blink blink...........I....well....hmmmm.....

I had never given it much thought because it is CLEARLY Dorothy's dream in the film....although Dorothy actually travels to Oz in the original story....so we decided to stick with the original concept of the film.  However, after giving it much thought and conversation, we have decided to be true to the TIME PERIOD of the book...which is 1900.  (I was an adult before I realized the film was NOT set in 1939.)

I LOVE the film.  I love the design....sets and costumes.  BUT...the film has a pointedly Art Deco design scheme...especially in the Emerald City.  If Dorothy is knocked unconscious and her dreams have accessed her memories, she wouldn't know anything about Art Deco....she could only access present day turn of the century Victorian and earlier.  Once this was decided, a whole new world began to take shape and our spirits were renewed!!  Costumes, scenery, colors....ideas...inspirations....everything started to fall into place.

The most important thing I want to accomplish with our production is this:  I want every member of our audience to experience the same wonder and excitement and magic I felt so many years ago while watching the annual television airing.  I want children...adults...families....partners....friends to come to our production and walk away with a rekindled love and respect for L. Frank Baum and his fantastical world of Oz.

I have, after a long break, begun again on my journey down the yellow brick road.  Come with me.... 

"Come out, come out wherever you are..."

When I was a kid of maybe six or seven years old, I had an odd fascination with bubbles.  Don't laugh.  One of my favorite things to do would be to get a bottle of bubbles, go outside and fill the air around me with those delicate, iridescent soapy spheres and just look at them.  I know it sounds a bit Rainman-ish but I wasn't counting or studying or anything very smart...I would just stand and admire the way the sun shone through the soap and created such marvelous colors. 

I remember one sticky summer afternoon while "bubbling" it up in the backyard, on the rare occasion I was patient enough to do this, I decided to blow a very large bubble to see how long it would stay aloft.  After many unsuccessful tries, I finally managed to create a rather impressive bubble almost the size of my head.  I timidly lifted the bubble wand into the air and twisted it around until the bubble separated itself from the end of the wand.  I was transfixed.  Not only did the bubble NOT burst, but a slight breeze caught my creation and lifted it high into the air! I stood rooted to the spot and watched as the bubble bobbed and swirled and danced away from me.  Suddenly, whether it was my imagination or the perfect trick of the hot summer sun, the bubble shone a brilliant and dazzling pink! My breath caught in my chest and the tiny blond hairs on my arms stood at attention with excitement. A new game was instantly born.  From that moment on, I spent hours pretending each giant bubble I blew was Glinda, herself, descending from the heavens to send me on a quest into a strange and beautiful land. And so it went until one Saturday afternoon while shopping with my mom (my favorite weekend activity) at Sky City in downtown Lenoir, I came across something that changed the game forever. 

It was a cold and rainy autumn Saturday - my favorite time to go shopping because I loved the swish-squeak rhythm of the windshield wipers.  Mom, in her usual way, gave me two dollars and turned me loose to roam the store with my two dollars burning a hole in my husky jeans.  I browsed up and down the action figure aisle (nah....I already have all the He-Man stuff and I don't like Transformers because you have to DO stuff to them)....the Lego aisle (God, no. You have to PUT STUFF TOGETHER)...the Barbie aisle (God...I want that one...and THAT one....AND that ONE....ooooohhhh....and THAT ONE!)...but nothing was grabbing my ADHD little brain.  Nothing, that is, until I turned the corner and saw the giant cage of big, plastic bouncy balls!!!  HOLY CRAP!!! 

They're so pretty....each one a specific color swirled with white. Blue, orange, purple, green, yellow, pink. Pink. Wait a minute. PINK!  P-I-N-K PIIIIIIINK!!!!  Oh my God....there is a big pink plastic bubble sitting right there.  Right. There. In front of my face. Pressed up against the metal squares of the cage. Eye level. Ok...how the hell do I get it out?!?!  Let's see....it won't fit through the bars.  (Yes, I did try that.  I never said I was a bright one. I was blond, blue eyed and chubby. Not clever.)  I can't climb the cage and jump in. (although that would be totally awesome!!)  Geez....how am I going to get it!? Yes...I will just scoot it up the side of the cage and flip it over the top edge. No sweat.  Fifteen minutes later, the beautiful swirly pink and white ball tumbles over the side of the cage and makes that beautiful hollow, plastic-y *SMACK* on the linoleum floor.  YES!!!  It is MINE!!!  I tenderly carry it over to my mother and place it lovingly and gently into her buggy. 

"Is that what you want, Honey?" she asks in her sweet sing-song voice.
"Yep. Sure do." is my reply.
"How much is it?"
"A dollar."
"Well, Honey, you still have a dollar left. Do you want to look at anything else? I think the bubbles you like are less than a dollar." she says while trying to smooth out my cowlick behind my left ear.
"Nope. That's why I got the ball, Mama. See...I've been using my bubbles for Glinda when I play "Wizard of Oz" and I thought that I can use THIS instead so I can play "Oz" inside and not get the bubbles all over the carpet. Plus, it's really pretty" I sigh as I stare up at my mom with my big cow eyes.
"What a great idea, Baby. Let's get you home so you can play".

And with that, my mother took my hand and led me, the buggy and Glinda up to the checkout line.

No questions. No concerns. No raised eyebrow. No worried expression. No sigh of confusion and frustration. No demanding I change my pink ball to a blue ball. 

Only Love. Acceptance. Tolerance. Kindness. Patience. Understanding. 

I didn't understand it at the time, but my mother was an amazing woman.  At a time when so many small town southern mothers would be ashamed of her son buying a big pink bouncy ball, she not only WASN'T ashamed, she was proud. AND she understood. She understood that I was different from most other boys...and she didn't care.  She allowed me to be who I was without hesitation.  She gave me the love and freedom and guidance to free my imagination and create for myself entire imaginary lands in our backyard...or in our living room. 

I am blessed beyond measure to have been raised by a mother and father who gave me the courage, the love and the intelligence to be exactly what I wanted to be: their son. 

"It's not a place you can get to by a boat or a train."

I talked with a good friend last night about Oz and during the course of our dinner conversation I began thinking about the annual television showing of "The Wizard of Oz" and I couldn't help but wonder...(yes, that is my first blatant Carrie Bradshaw reference) does Oz mean the same to a younger generation?

Think about it: When my generation was growing up, we were just being introduced to VCRs and not everyone in my neighborhood had one. So, when we saw the first commercial for the annual showing of Oz, we got tremendously excited! Well, I got tremendously excited. I would scribble the date down on a piece of paper and I would pin it to my bookshelf as a constant reminder...a beacon of hope...that soon, very soon, I would have the yearly opportunity to see "The Wizard of Oz".  I would plan my whole day around that day whenever it showed up on the calender. Here is my yearly routine as I remember it:

My mother would know to make sure I had plenty of time to eat dinner, take my bath and be in my favorite pajamas by showtime. My family knew that when 7:45 came around, I had control of the downstairs floor model television.  (By the way, that television is still in perfect running condition.) I would drag out my sleeping bag from the downstairs closet - the very swanky polyester blend indoor only sleeping bag with the blue lining - and spread it out just perfectly in front of the television.  Then, I would find my favorite blanket - if memory serves me correctly, it was almost flesh colored and the satin trimming was shredded and falling apart - and drape it over the sleeping bag.  Next came the pile of pillows reserved for napping on the sofa. By the time I had all of that in place, it was 7:55 and I would be ready for my chocolate milk (the homemade kind my dad used to make from sugar and cocoa powder) and buttered toast (the good kind my mom made from the oven and NOT the toaster).  My insides fairly quaked at the sheer excitement and anticipation of what was about to transpire. 

7:58...commercials commercials commercials...all these damned commercials!! 

News preview...yeah yeah yeah.  Oh God...this is it...I know it...it's not a commercial this time...YES!  The CBS Special Presentation logo!! WOO HOO!!!  I can't take it!!  My skin is actually bubbling with goosepimples....the fine, white blond hairs on my arms are full of electricity. Okay...okay...the preview is over. It's here!  IT'S HERE!!!  FINALLY!!!  Alright....the screen is black....nothing is happening. WHAT THE???  WHERE IS IT?!?!  IS THERE A PROBLEM WITH THE STATION?!?!  WHY ISN'T IT COMING ON??  OH MY GOD...PLEASE DON'T LET THIS HAPPEN TO ME!  I HAVE WAITED SO LONG TO SEE IT!  ALLLL YEAR!!!  WHY ME???!!!  WAIT!!  IT'S HAPPENING!!  YES YES YES YES YES YES YES!!!  Oh dear God...those first tremulous, heart pounding, soul crashing chords of the overture!! (You know the ones I'm talking about.) There he is...Leo the Lion!!  This is my favorite part!!  No, wait....there's the title card!  THAT'S my favorite part!!  Breathless....i can hear nothing but the music and my heart pounding in my ears.  I am not moving...not blinking.  I can taste the chocolate milk and buttered toast - the perfect friends to have in my company.

And so it went...Kansas....Miss Gultch...Professor Marvel....the twister (OH MY GOD!!!) and then the big moment.  The money shot...the one reason, I imagine, color televisions were invented: Munchkinland!  Again...breathless....heart stopping.  Dorothy walks closer to the camera....the shot changes to the door and her back (which was, actually, her double, Bobbie Koshay). The coloring is different...I know something amazing is getting ready to happen. THERE IT IS!!!  Breathe...just breathe....

No other movie has had such an indelible hold on my imagination and no other movie ever will.  (Surprised?)  That is what made me think about the younger generation today.  We now have CGI, computer animation, amazing technological special effects, HARRY POTTER!!!  How can a 1939 film ever hope to compete with that??  I'll tell you how:  what all of these new movies and effects and million dollar budgets fail to have is staying power.  There is always something bigger and better coming out next.  Oz was it. Oz WAS the biggest thing. For YEARS. It has lasted this long because there are GENERATIONS of people who planned their lives around one date a year. ONE. The only other television events that can come close to Oz are the holiday specials.  Oz is shown constantly on some network or other.  Kids own it on DVD and Blu Ray.  It is so readily available that I am saddened to think my niece and nephew might never know the magic and wonder of waiting....waiting....waiting for that one night.  That one chance you had to see the most amazing film you have ever seen...the most amazing story.

No...not yet...I'm not ready for it to be over!!  She can't be back in Kansas already!!  Shoot shoot shoot....she said it...No place like home....The End....cast listing....fade to black.  Elation.....satisfaction....fatigue.....emptiness......sadness.......anticipation.....elation again........next year......next year.......

To Oz?

I think I have logged approximately 1209870328754329877624319 hours of Oz research on bing.com, google.com, youtube.com, thewizardofozmusical.com and everythingyoualwayswantedtoknowaboutozbutwereafraidtoask.comorgedu.  I have gathered pictures, posters, videos, articles and ideas from various stage productions, movies, animated movies and so on and so forth.  I've seen photos and videos ranging from good to bad and breathtaking to "what in the gay hell were they thinking??" 

Here is a list of some of my thoughts for re-creating Oz:

1. "Wicked: The Musical" will never be considered as a "go-to" for design ideas.  I swear, if I see one more flying Glinda bubble with clockwork designs on it, I will scream.  People, "The Wizard of Oz" was first. What in HELL did some of these theatres out there DO before they ripped off ideas from Eugene Lee's clockwork set for "Wicked"??  GAH!!
2. The script for Oz is very much like the movie and, in such, is very detailed and pretty darn technically challenging.  We need to find a way to effectively simplify the sets.  I see no reason for a full scale farmhouse complete with bedroom that will only be onstage for approximately 8 minutes.  Nor do I see a reason to make the Poppies a chorus of people like the script dictates.  Given the limited fly space and wing space, our set needs to be simple yet extremely effective and fun.
3. When in doubt, go to the original source.  In this case, we have TWO original sources: the movie and the book.  I am really on the fence about my feeling regarding the new Andrew Lloyd Webber production in London.  check it out here http://www.wizardofozthemusical.com/ I love the Dorothy in this production...but that's really about it.  I haven't seen enough to make a fair judgement of everything, but, to ME, it seems the designers strayed a bit too far from both the movie and the book in order to put their own stamp on it.  For instance, there is a clip somewhere of Dorothy singing "Over the Rainbow" while wearing a pair of work overalls instead of the iconic gingham dress. On one hand, I kind of like it...but it's almost too realistic.
4. Since we are not spending the exorbitant amount of money on a separate fly system for the actors, we need to find a way to "fly" the monkeys (We are tossing around some neat ideas with shadow puppetry, perhaps.  Not really sure how that'll work.) and Glinda.
5. Costumes...costumes....costumes.  My mind fairly spins when I think of the costumes.  Re-creating the costumes like the MGM counterparts is a pretty daunting and damned expensive task.  Plus, while I love the majority of the costumes from the movie, some of them have a decidedly art deco feel...and that look doesn't always translate well to the stage.  This is when I turn to the book.  The story is set at the very turn of the century and I really think the costumes should reflect that period as much as possible...especially in Kansas. ( I think it was pretty later on when I realized the movie wasn't set in 1939.) I think there is a neat way we can marry the two periods...I just haven't found it yet.
6. Special effects. Yowza.  I need a house to fly, a snowstorm (fly space is limited, remember, so a snow cradle might not be possible), a disembodied head, fire and a witch to melt into the floor. Most productions I have seen, use a built-up set piece for the melting scene. By God, I will find a way to use one of our trap doors in our new stage floor. Mark my words, that witch is going through that floor if I have to lower her down there, myself.

So. These are just some of the ideas floating around in my head. Thoughts? Comments? Opinions? Ideas? Anyone??



"I'm so glad to be at home again!"

Home Again

Aunt Em had just come out of the house to water the cabbages when she looked up and saw Dorothy running toward her.
“My darling child!” she cried, folding the little girl in her arms and covering her face with kisses; “where in the world did you come from?”
“From the land of Oz”, said Dorothy gravely.  “And here is Toto, too. And oh, Aunt Em!  I’m so glad to be at home again!”

The End

That is the final chapter of The Wonderful Wizard of Oz by L. Frank Baum.  I believe, dear friends, this is one of the most beautiful endings to a story that I have ever read. It doesn’t really end with any kind of fanfare or big dramatic cliff hanger. It ends so simply: Aunt Em is stoically carrying on with her farm duties (Remember, in the book, Dorothy was gone for days and days and days.) when she finds her little orphan girl in the middle of the yard. That’s it. No big “to-do” about where she had gone or no big questions; just relief and love.

I have thought so much about “Oz” over the years and my understanding of the story has evolved as I have aged.  When I was much younger, I was transfixed with the adventure, the quest, of Dorothy and her three companions.  In my young adulthood, I could really associate with the Cowardly Lion. I felt, and still do to a certain extent, his fear of everything and everyone. But now, in my mid-thirties, as I read the script and re-read the story, I find myself struck with such an overwhelming sense of longing that I never knew was there before.  A surprisingly deep, and resonating melancholy and bittersweet longing rings in my soul as I read the story again.

Dorothy is longing to get back home. The Scarecrow is longing for brains.  The Tin Woodman is longing for a heart. The Cowardly Lion is longing for courage.  The Wizard is longing for secrecy. The Wicked Witch is longing for the magic shoes. The one longing … the one solitary longing … that rings clear in my heart is Dorothy’s longing to be home again.  Put yourself in this little girl’s place for a moment:

She is, by all modern accounts, a victim of a natural disaster. Correct? She has been uprooted from her tiny, one room shack of a farmhouse and dropped into another world.  (Think of it as being blown away by the Tuscaloosa tornado and brought down in San Francisco.)  From the time she sets out on the yellow brick road, she has one objective: to get the hell home.  But things are never as easy as we want them to be.  She has to walk for days to see some wizard who MIGHT be able to send her home. Along the way, she picks up three complete nut jobs and encounters obstacles that would test the physical and psychological limits of a grown man - not to mention an eleven year old girl.  Then, after being granted an audience with a giant disembodied head, she and her friends are told to go kill someone and THEN the boss will send her home.  You know the rest, of course.  (What the hell is so great about this story again??)  I cannot begin to imagine the level of terror this little girl felt on a daily basis.  Why, then, did she keep on easing down the road with a stupid man, a heartless guy with rusty parts and a big gay cat??  There is only one word powerful enough to make any of us go through what Dorothy had gone through: Home. 

The “home” I’m talking about here is not the home we have now as adults.  I am talking about your first home…the one with your own room across the hall from mom and dad’s bedroom. Your childhood home where it seemed nothing bad could ever reach you and, if it did, you had a great hiding spot. Maybe it was that spot between the foot of your bed and your big stand-alone record player stereo…the place where the shag carpet is worn flat from the hours you spend sitting there listening to the original cast vinyl recording of Annie .

Remember your very first night in your first apartment when every strange sound was as loud as a train whistle?  Or the first time your parents went out for the evening and left you, alone and confused, in a strange house with a babysitter and you thought they would NEVER come back for you?  How about when you’ve had a horrible day, when nothing has gone the way it should, and all you want to do is go home and sit in your dad’s lap and watch a PBS Nova program or sit on your mom’s lap while she files her nails and softly hums your favorite song while you run your little hand over the silky material of her nightgown?  That’s home.  That is the place Dorothy wanted to be more than anywhere else in the world.  What else would drive her to do the things she did?  If you were told the only way you could have these things back is to go and perform such dangerous acts of bravery, wouldn’t you do it?  I would.  The aching longing for that sense of home would drive me to do things I never thought possible. 

And here we all thought The Wizard of Oz was kid’s story with a handful of fun characters and a lighthearted sense of fun and adventure.  Take a moment and look deeper.  Oz is complicated and dangerous and beautiful and terrifying and magical…all the things we want in a good book, right?  Or is it all the things we want in life?

"I won't look any further than my own backyard"

I wanted to be Dorothy.  I did.  I am not ashamed of it, either.  I wanted to be the one who was whisked away to a magical land to have adventures and sing songs and wear amazing shoes with kick-ass power. 

Jason was my best friend in the neighborhood.  He would come over and we would play Super Friends in my backyard.  He was always Green Lantern or Flash Gordon or Aquaman.  Who did I always want to be?  You guessed it: Wonder Woman.  Jason would always say, “You can’t BE Wonder Woman!  She is a GIRL.  You HAVE to be a guy hero.”  My answer was always the same: “Okay, fine.  I will be Wonder MAN.”  Jason, God love him, would just roll his eyes and let me be Wonder Man.  (Wonder Man was Wonder Woman’s secret brother….who had the same outfit…the same powers….the same everything.  Same hero; different gender. )

On the days Jason was with his dad, I loved riding my bike up and down our dirt road.  I would start at the top of the hill and pedal as hard and fast as I could and then I would coast around the bend in the road in front of my house.  Eyes closed.  Imagination open.   My favorite time of day was late afternoon, early evening; especially in the early fall.  The golden toned late day sun would cast long shadows over the dirt road and I adored riding through them.  Some days I would pretend I was Dorothy, pedaling away from Miss Gultch, and as I rode through the shadows, I would be transported to Oz.  The shadows were perfectly placed: right as you came out of the bend in the road and directly before our small apple orchard.  Perfect. 

I spent hours discovering Oz in my own backyard.  It was just me, my imagination and my trusty bike, Gold Fever.  (To clarify, I did NOT name my bike Gold Fever.  That was the name it came with.)  I can’t imagine what my parents thought to see their son skipping around the yard dodging flying apples and winged monkeys.  But they let me do it.  They gave me my own Oz and never tried to take it away. 

So you see, my friends, Oz isn’t just a play or a story or a movie to me.  Oz, to me, is my childhood…my adulthood.  Oz is always there for me.  Oz can be waiting on the other side of the shadow crossing the road.  Oz is waiting for me when I miss my mom and need comfort.  Oz is when I come home and my dog, Jellybean, runs to greet me at the door with her tail wagging so hard her body sways with it.  Oz is JDB3 making dinner while we listen to jazz. 

Oz is home.   

"We've come such a long way already..."

70 days. That's how long we have until auditions for Oz. 

70 days to have a clear vision for what "Oz" will look and sound like.  You may think 70 days is quite enough time to bring ideas together and have everything ready. You'd be wrong. Well, not normally...but in this case, you'd be wrong.

I know this particular version of "The Wizard of Oz", if not handled correctly, can eat you alive and spit out your remains before you even have a chance to meet the Wizard.  I...ME, David Townsend...the one who has been dreaming about this show ever since he was old enough to steal his sister's blue gingham dance recital dress (The one she wore for the ballet rendition of "Many A New Day" from Oklahoma!) and sneak it into his room to practice "Over The Rainbow"...I know that we HAVE to enter into auditions for this show with clear and concise plans and designs and waste no time once we start rehearsals with trying to figure things out.

The Favorite is, I believe, already tiring of my incessant ramblings about how many backdrops we will need and how we can best utilize the wing space and where the hell are all the Munchkins going to go?!? God bless him, he just listens to me and smiles. A typical Oz-themed conversation usually goes something like this:

JDB3: Hey, did we remember to take the trash and recycling down to the curb last night?
Me:  Yep. Hey, how many Munchkins do you want for the show?
JDB3: Um...I don't know yet.
Me: Well, I was thinking that we can't really have too very many because I don't really know what we're going to do with them during the rest of the show because I have seen productions of Oz where there are, like, SEVENTY freakin' Munchkins running around the stage and I don't really know if it's wise for us to cast that many because we are VERY limited with backstage space and I know that we can corral them all into one of the downstairs rehearsal rooms but you know that the two main rooms are right up next to the orchestra pit and I know Cathy Banner will be very sweet and understanding about it but I just don't want the kids running wild down there because the microphones in the orchestra will pick up their noise but if we have parents sign up for backstage duty they can keep them quiet with games and stuff. 
JDB3: ...............Well I was thinking tha-
Me:  Wait. We can't put them in that one rehearsal hall because if we use the trap door over THAT room for the trap door in the Witch's Castle, then all those damn Munchkins will be running around and getting in the way oooooh we can use that new rehearsal hall underneath the black box stage.
JDB3:  Well, I'm not sure if we'll need to worry about all that yet, honey.
Me:  I know but we have to plan for this kind of thing NOW.
JDB3: Honey. It's January. We need to get the rights for the show first and then we can figure all this stuff out. 
Me:  Well, if you want to wait THAT long to plan this stuff out...(grumble grumble pout pout pout)

Welcome to my brain, my dear friends. 

And welcome to JDB3's world for the next several weeks...