A Glimpse Backstage

Around the same time as Arsenic and Old Lace made its debut in New York, Disney came out with the animated movie, Pinocchio. My favorite song from that soundtrack is “An Actor’s Life for Me.” The villain, Honest John, sings it to tempt the wooden boy into a caravan with these words:

“Hi-Diddle-Dee-Dee

An actor’s life for me!

Hi-Diddle-Dee-Doo, you sleep ‘til after two

You promenade with a big cigar

You tour the world in a private car

You dine on chicken and caviar

An actor’s life for me!”

Well, Pinocchio, I can’t say that’s been my experience exactly. 

As I write this, I’m sitting backstage at the William Glesby Centre. It’s an all-day technical rehearsal for Arsenic and Old Lace, which generally means a lot of sitting around and waiting, especially for those of us with smaller parts. But such is the price of stardom.

The set is almost complete. It’s the first time we’ve worked with the walls and doors, the lights, sound effects, and microphones. 

10:30 a.m. The cast members not currently on stage are enjoying the comfortable new furniture the Prairie Players recently purchased for the “green room.” Most stay engaged with some kind of electronic device. One is calmly reading. Some are pacing, still working on lines, or having their hair done, like me. Occasionally we make too much noise and get shushed by the stage manager, Myrna.

11:00. I’m summoned from the dressing room with my hair half done for a sound check. With a cast of 14, the check takes a long time. Something’s wrong with my mike, so they find me another and once it’s working, I return to my hairdresser, Maureen.

12:00. We’re in Act II and I’m testing out a pair of slippery bedroom slippers that look like the 1939 era. When I get in a tussle with the villain, (played by Tyrone Taylor) I lose one of the slippers—which is funny, but a little unnerving. After Tyrone throws me down the cellar stairs, he remains in character, grabs the slipper, and tosses it down the stairs after me. I put it back on. When I return to the stage through the cellar door and dash for my fiancé (played by Kevin Hamm), into whose arms I am supposed to run, the slippers lose their grip on me and I nearly body slam poor Kevin right out the door. This is followed by a fit of giggles and I’m very glad this isn’t the actual show. We’ll find different slippers.

12:30 p.m. I am between scenes, so I find the salad I brought wedged under one of the bright make-up lights in the dressing room. The container feels warm. Uh oh. Good thing I didn’t bring ice cream.

1:00 p.m. It seems this play has been going on forever.

1:30 p.m. We finally reach the end and Stephanie walks us through the plan for our curtain call. It takes three tries, but we finally do it to her satisfaction. Preston Meier, who appears only in the first 15 minutes of the play, must wait around each night so he can take his bow with us. I can only imagine the mischief he’ll get into while he waits.

2:00 p.m. We run through the entire play without stopping. We’re to consider it “a show” which means we plow through no matter what happens. 

After curtain call, each of us is assigned a job for closing night. No hired help here! After taking our final bows, we’ll all need to pitch in to get our set down, furniture, props and costumes put away or carted off to wherever they belong.

4:30 p.m. We go our separate ways until tomorrow, tired but happy.

Did she or didn't she?

I know some folks think we should be content with the hair colour God gave us, but that ship sailed years ago. When I first started experimenting with my mousy hair in Grade Ten, my dad said, “If God wanted you to have blond hair, you’d have been born with it.” 

To that I replied, “If God wanted me to go around naked, I’d have been born that way.”

I was such a treat to raise.

Having red hair has been on my bucket list for years. After all, so many terrific redheads have graced our world. If you want to be known for comedy, red hair is a splendid idea. As a kid, I faithfully watched Red Skelton on a black and white TV. If his name hadn’t been “Red,” I’d have never known the source of his talent.

And who’s funnier than Lucille Ball or Carol Burnette or Conan O’Brien?

Important people in history who had red hair include Esau and King David from the Bible, Eric the Red, Napoleon Bonaparte, and Queen Elizabeth I of England. And speaking of royals, what about Prince Harry? Did you know Mark Twain, Sir Winston Churchill, and Vladimir Lenin all sported red hair?

In the music world, who could forget Geri Halliwell (a.k.a. Ginger Spice), Bernadette Peters, and Willie Nelson? Or one of my favorite artists, Vincent Van Gogh? 

The list of red-headed movie stars is inexhaustible, including Lindsay Lohan, Kate Winslet, and Nicole Kidman. 

In sports, we have Rusty Staub, Brian Campbell, and Heather Moyse. I had to Google those because … well… sports, shmorts.

Let’s not forget our favorite fictional characters like Little Orphan Annie and Charlie Brown’s little red-haired girl and Anne of Green Gables (“Red hair is my lifelong sorrow.”)

There’s something mysteriously attractive about a red-haired woman, isn’t there? Lucille Ball said, “Once in his life, every man is entitled to fall madly in love with a gorgeous redhead.”

My reason for wanting red hair is not to be famous or to have some man fall in love with me, madly or otherwise. I just want to try it. Will it bring out the green flecks in my eyes which romance novelists always describe but which I’ve never actually seen on anyone, let alone myself? Will my personality change? Will I suddenly develop a quick temper? Will people call me “Carrots” or “Ginger” or “Woody Woodpecker?” Will I become as smart as my red-haired friend Gayle or as beautiful as her daughters Alison and Veronica, or as witty as my writing buddy, Michael? Will I need to start avoiding the sun?

I've been chicken to try it, but time is marching on. I knew if I waited too much longer, I might end up looking like Endora, the meddling mother-in-law from Bewitched.

But wait. There’s a play coming up. Elaine Harper, the character I portray, does not necessarily have red hair, but she certainly could. And if I dyed my hair red and it looked ridiculous, I could say “it’s just for a play.”

Right? 

And besides, it’s only hair. 

Right?

Get your ticket now for the Prairie Players’ production of Arsenic and Old Lace at the William Glesby Centre November 11, 12, 13, and 14. The first two nights are the play only and the last two are dinner theatre. Call 204-239-4848 or stop by the Glesby Centre for tickets or more information. You can also buy tickets online at www.glesbycentre.com

Did it!

 

Granny Baker's Doilies

When Stephanie, the director for the Prairie Players’ upcoming production of Arsenic and Old Lace, handed around a list of required props, the word “doilies” jumped out at me and I signed my name beside it. Though I haven’t used them in years, I knew exactly where to find half a dozen or more handcrafted doilies.

I suspect my grandmother (my mom’s mom) learned how to crochet as a very little girl and I never saw her go anywhere without her crocheting in hand. She taught me how to crochet when I was eight or nine. I’ve stuck with yarn, though. I never had the patience for the delicate work required by fine crochet cotton and miniscule hooks. 

Granny Baker produced doilies, table cloths, afghans, slippers, and more. For years, MCC gave her their unsellable sweaters which she’d unravel, knit into mittens or slippers, and return to the store where they’d sell like hotcakes. My children each received one of Granny’s afghans when they married, even though she had already passed away and left the colorful blankets behind for them in trust. I’m confident not one of my siblings or cousins is without at least one item lovingly made by her.

But she was definitely most famous for her doilies. I bet every bride within a 25-mile radius of Amaranth received a set of her doilies between 1940 and 1980. Only God knows the number of stitches Granny Baker’s hands made over the course of her 91 years on this planet. 

For years, I used my doilies faithfully as a pretty way to protect furniture from scuffs or provide a bit of cushion under breakable knickknacks. Once a year, I’d wash the doilies and take them to Granny to starch—a tedious task which involved dipping each doily in a cornstarch and water mixture and then pinning it to heavy cardboard on which several concentric circles had been drawn, using hundreds of straight pins. This resulted in a perfectly symmetrical, stiff-as-a-board piece of intricate lace no household should be without.

I’m not sure when doilies went out of fashion, but at some point, I declared mine mere dust collectors. Not ready to part with these heirlooms, however, I washed them and stored them in a box. I certainly can’t predict whether they’ll ever make a come-back. Pintrest is probably full of great ideas for what to do with doilies and maybe one day I’ll take the time to look. In the meantime, it’s lovely to see them getting used to beautify the set for a story that takes place in 1939. I think Granny would be pleased.

You can see Granny Baker’s doilies—and a lot of other old stuff—on stage at the William Glesby Centre when The Prairie Players present Joseph Kesselring’s “Arsenic and Old Lace” November 11, 12, 13, and 14. The first two nights are the play only and the last two are dinner theatre. Call 204-239-4848 or stop by the Glesby Centre for tickets or more information. You can also buy tickets online at www.glesbycentre.com

A Little Arsenic, Anyone?

The Prairie Players are at it again. Rehearsals are underway for Arsenic and Old Lace and you won’t want to miss this insanely goofy comedy. This famous play written by Joseph Kesselring debuted on Broadway in 1941. The dialogue takes several snide jabs at theatre critics, and when you know Kesselring’s history, you’ll understand why.

His earlier plays met with cutting critique. Walter Kerr’s harsh review of Four Twelves Are 48 said Kesselring “…conceived a comic situation which takes precisely four minutes’ acting time to exploit.”

There’s Wisdom in Women met with equally ruthless reviews.

So when Arsenic and Old Lace appeared on the scene, it surprised critics. What they may not have known was that Kesselring had help with the writing. Though he retained full credit for the piece, the producers who bought the script, Howard Lindsay and Russel Crouse, all but rewrote everything, changing many of the situations and introducing some new characters. So the script became a true collaboration and its wild success gives testament to the power of team work.

Speaking of team work, you’re going to love Connie Krawec and Peggy Tidsbury’s portrayals of the two charming sisters who welcome lonely old men into their peaceful Victorian home so they can poison them and bury the bodies in their basement, all in the name of charity. Doesn’t sound exactly side-splitting, does it? But when you add Kevin Hamm’s depiction of their nephew, Mortimer, (along with a large cast of other confused and colorful characters), you will know why the Herald Tribune called it “the most riotously hilarious comedy of the season,” and the Sun’s critic proclaimed, “you wouldn’t believe homicidal mania could be so funny.”

Under the direction of Stephanie Kauffman and stage manager Myrna Nichol, the cast is rounded out by Preston Meier, Paul Warthe, Sharon Morrison, Ember Rodgers, Jordan Thiessen, Tyrone Taylor, Terry Tully, Rosa Rawlings, Theresa Bergen, Gord Holm, and me!

Mark your calendars now for the play on November 11 and 12, or for dinner theatre on November 13 and 14, all at the William Glesby Centre. I understand tickets for the November 11 performance will be free to veterans.

In the meantime…

Some of my column readers have asked how the “Bake-Off” playwriting competition went, and I’m delighted to report the end result might be one of the funniest pieces I’ve ever written called Peace We Often Forfeit. The three ingredients they gave us were: a yellow submarine, hysteria, and a red line. The audience will have fantastic fun seeing how each of the five playwrights incorporated these elements into their scene and then voting for the one they like best.

With the pressure off, I intend to sit back and enjoy it. When I saw the credentials of the other writers, I waved goodbye to any hope of winning and feel humbled and grateful to have been chosen to participate! The others come from Winnipeg, Calgary, and Vancouver, so I feel like I’m representing the rural world.

I’d be thrilled if you could attend, too. It’s on Monday, September 14, 7:00 p.m. at the Asper Centre for Theatre and Film, 400 Colony Street (north of the old bus depot off Portage Avenue.) Then at 9:00, the reading of my one-hour play, Irony: A Tragic Comedy about Life and Death will take place in the same venue. So you can take in both events with one trip, and tickets are available for a suggested donation of $10 at www.sarasvati.ca/femfest/tickets/

I’d love to see you there!