I prepared for it mentally like one might a marathon. Most of the shows take about 3 hours to see, plus about 2 hours to review. Surely, I thought, this would drain me of all creative energy by the end and make me wish I’d gone into an easier line of work, like neurosurgery.

But now that I’ve finished, I realize what a steep learning curve the last few weeks gave me. I saw romance, comedy, family drama, and an epic. The pieces spanned ancient Mesopotamia to present day. I watched swordfights and saw people fly. I learned more about what works and doesn’t work in writing compelling dialogue.

Then, as I sat at my computer to type analyses of each piece, I began to show gradual improvement in speed and clarity. What once took 2 hours took 1 by the end. I began to enjoy the work more and feel my theatrical vocabulary expand and stretch.

Anyone who writes for the stage knows you improve as you see shows and write often. This past month surprised me in how well it proved that adage. I learned the importance of taking in theater as its own practice, letting it become as much education for me as it is entertainment for the person beside me.

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New to DC? I feel very blessed to have a role with We Love DC; but I know other people in the area get free tickets by ushering and volunteering at the theaters. I highly recommend teaming up with 3-4 theaters – a friend of mine does this and is highly informed about the craft because of it. If you’re new to DC, some great starting theaters include Arena Stage, Woolly Mammoth Theatre Co, Folger Theatre, Studio Theatre, and Synetic Theater. For musicals, Signature Theatre is a must (tickets are very pricey otherwise).

Also, since I did the work already, here are the two reviews I enjoyed writing the most: The Three Musketeers at Synetic Theater and Pas de Deux at Studio Theatre.

(Photo by Dez Pain)

Well, not is writing. Has written. And not just any American family – a politically conservative Hollywood family that lost a son.

The play brings up some great questions about storytelling and memoir writing. When is it all right to talk about people who are still alive? Does it make a difference if it’s your own family? And what if, whether you agree with their reasoning or not, they’ve asked you not to publish your material until after they’re gone?

These questions haunt a lot of memoir writers I know. Some of them come from such tragic family backgrounds they feel a need to write about their experiences as a form of therapy. Should they not do so? And should they really care about how their once-abusive family members feel?

Thankfully I didn’t have a family like that, and neither does Brooke in Other Desert Cities. But she feels compelled to write their story nonetheless.

I listened in on a lot of conversations at intermission and, ironically, am writing about them here without the patrons’ permission. Most of the audiences members were 50+ and seemed disturbed by the daughter’s behavior.

“The next generation,” said one woman, “they think… whatever they want to say, they should get to say it.”

“Do you think she’s going to publish it?” asked a man to his date. “Yes, sadly. I don’t think she cares. It’s just disrespectful.”

I don’t think the audience was reacting to Brooke’s desire to tell her story. They were reacting to the way in which she wants to tell it. She wants to put down the facts only as she sees them, and without any compassion for the affected parties.

She approaches the family at Christmas, with no warning. She doesn’t apologize or offer any options for them if they disapprove or feel betrayed. She asks if they have revisions; but she doesn’t assure them she’ll make those revisions if requested.

Who knows what better response she’d get if she showed compassion for these people – people that supported her through her depression? If she showed some sensitivity to their concerns, perhaps they’d be more accepting of her work.

Like most of us, Brooke also doesn’t know all the details of her own history. In her ignorance, she doesn’t approach her family with appropriate humility. We all believe we’re the protagonists of our world’s story; and writers are often the worst at this sort of narcissism. Brooke shows how true this can be.

I take this as a reminder to be more careful when approaching my family and friends about our collective histories. I want to treat them with compassion and humility, especially when planning to write about our experiences in some essay. I’ll get better responses from them as a result, and likely a better story to tell, too.

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(Photo: Emily Donahoe and Helen Carey in Other Desert Cities, courtesy Arena Stage / Photographer: Scott Suchman)

If you have Seasonal Affective Disorder, there’s nothing more comforting than seeing spring come around. It’s a huge relief to know a better time is arriving – a time when you’ll be more creative, patient, and happy. The months of March-April give me hope…for the most part.

It’s easy to forget the weather can change dramatically during those months as well. At the end of April here in DC we had a few dark, overcast, misty days – my least favorite. The sound of rain will at least relax me even if it’s dark, but mist? Find me either depressed or asleep.

While a few days might not sound like much, it was truly exhausting, because my body was already worn out from the yo-yo effects of winter/spring/summer/repeat temperatures.

Sometimes people with SAD are wrongly labelled as manic-depressive/bipolar, because the symptoms can include mood swings; but it becomes more obvious over time that the swings happen as the seasons change. In spring we have a crashing of seasons, in which mornings can start at 48 degrees and cloudy and end at 72 degrees and sunny. The mood changes can thus happen suddenly and more often.

It’s not an easy way to live, and those of us with SAD can make it even harder on ourselves. I find myself so excited about the increased light that I don’t recognize depression when it creeps in. I’m surprised by my behavior, when 1-2 months ago it would have been commonplace.

The best thing we can do in months like this is stay vigilant. Just like in winter, I’m remembering to watch my diet, stay aware of how much light I’m getting, and tell (the right) people what’s going on.

It’s working, but I could always use better reminders. Any tips appreciated.

Have a great spring…for the most part!

I’m excited to see Schaeffer’s name attached. A Broadway veteran, he’s also the artistic director of Signature Theatre, the Tony Award-winning hub for new musicals located here in Arlington, VA. And Gigi has never – that’s never – been revived on Broadway, so this is musical history of sorts.

So why do I cringe? I cringe because, well, it’s Gigi.

When Gigi came out on film in 1958 it garnered nine Academy Awards including Best Picture. It was a huge success. The Broadway version didn’t open until 1973, however, and was treated coolly. I think that had to do, at least in part, on the changing of the times.

For, you see, Gigi is a creepy story about some creepy people. Perhaps the time is ripe for a good human-trafficking-turned-love-story-but-still-child-molestation play. Otherwhise I assume when they say it will “feature an adaptation,” they mean an adaptation of…the whole plot.

The press release says, “Heidi Thomas has restored Gigi to her rightful place at the center of the story, backed by a funny, warm family of women that show the men in the world around them the finer meaning of life and love.”

You want to write that? Then why not start from scratch – or at least go back to the original novel by Colette. Because that ain’t Lerner and Loewe’s Gigi.

For you’re consideration, I’ve included a summary of sorts below:

Gaston is a bored rich guy with a bunch of mistresses. He loves spending time with his uncle’s friend Mamita and her teenage granddaughter Gigi. In the meanwhile, his old uncle just walks around singing about little girls and their helpless, appealing eyes.

Mamita sends Gigi to her Aunt Alicia’s to learn to be a courtesan. Gigi sucks at it, and not in a good way. She doesn’t get the whole French sex culture (it’s OK, none of us do, Gigi), but she enjoys spending time with Gaston. In the movie, while they’re hanging out, he actually spanks her. Ah, the 50s.

Alicia doesn’t think Gigi has what it takes to win a prize like Gaston, and says her education needs to increase. Mamita agrees, so Gigi continues being a grade A f!@#-up at whoring but does her best to stand up straight and look pretty.

Gaston visits, sees Gigi – who is still a teenage girl – in a grown-up dress. He gets the gagas for the Gigi; but he has a funny way of showing it: he tells her she looks ridiculous and storms out. Then he returns to apologize and invite her to dinner. Mamita refuses because she thinks a girl with a man that age would give her granddaughter a reputation (worse even than attending whore-school, apparently). Gaston is enraged and leaves.

He realizes he’s fallen in love with Gigi, so he does what any man in love would do: he returns and tries to buy the teenager as his mistress. Gigi is like many young girls: she doesn’t want to be passed around between men until they tire of her and trade her for a new piece of ass. Gaston is shocked that’s what she thinks he’d do (yes, just shocking).

Gigi eventually gives in – she says she’d rather be miserable with him than without him. And even though she’s probably too young to consent like that, we all sigh like it’s daggum Cinderella.

So they go out to dinner, and just like Mamita feared, they look gross together and everyone’s horrified. Gaston figures that out, and storms off – never explaining to his date – who’s weeping in misery because she’s still a toddler – why he’s dragging her through the streets on an empty stomach without so much as a word.

They arrive at her mother’s and he proposes. He marries the youngster and the old man sings about little girls some more. The end.

The Tragic Heroine

Characters:
Professor Morris
Amy, a student

Setting:
Northwestern University, present day

(PROFESSOR MORRIS sits at her desk. AMY knocks and enters.)

Prof. Morris: Hi, Amy. I suppose you know why I called you in here today.

Amy: I missed the exam. (Prof. Morris nods.) Professor Morris, you have to understand. This thing in Boston’s really messed me up.

Prof. Morris: Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you had a connection to Boston.

Amy: Yeah totally. I almost went to school there.

Prof. Morris: That’s it?

Amy: Yeah, and so I visited there like three times. I’ve been to part of where they run the marathon.

Prof. Morris: You know, Amy, these tragedies affect all of us. But I get the impression they affect you – how should I say – disproportionately.

Amy: Hmm?

Prof. Morris: Well, take for example the Newtown shooting. That was a terrible national tragedy, and we all mourned it.

Amy: Yeah.

Prof. Morris: But you told the class you had more reason to be upset because you once drove through Connecticut on a family vacation.

Amy: Do you read my blog?

Prof. Morris: I confess I don’t.

Amy: Because it wasn’t just once. We took five vacations to Maine, and we stopped in Connecticut every time.

Prof. Morris: In Newtown?

Amy: It’s a small state, same diff.

Prof. Morris: And your very graphic essay on 9/11.

Amy: I was devastated.

Prof. Morris: You were in Cleveland. And you were seven.

Amy: I knew, though, that something had changed. You don’t have to be a PhD to get when the nation is, like, evolving in its identity.

Prof. Morris: Is that something they taught you in second grade?

Amy: They didn’t have to. I was in a class for gifted kids.

Prof. Morris: I don’t doubt it. Listen, Amy, you can’t keep using these news stories to get special treatment. I can’t let you out of class over every sad event. And while I’m sure these tragedies have been hard on you, you can’t discount how others are feeling. Your classmate Steven, for example, is from Connecticut.

Amy: Well I didn’t know that.

Prof. Morris: And Bethany was in Manhattan on 9/11 with her family. So your essay may have been a little insensitive to her experience.

Amy: Look, if they want attention for all the suffering they’ve been through, they have to tell everybody.

Prof. Morris: Like you do.

Amy: Yeah, I mean, how was I supposed to know?

Prof. Morris: Bethany did tell us, when I gave out the assignment. But you were absent that day because it was the anniversary of Princess Diana’s funeral.

Amy: People forget so easily…

Prof. Morris: Will you at least think about what I’m saying?

Amy: Sure. But I’ve gotta get going for now.

Prof. Morris: Waco?

Amy: Yeah, I’m holding a prayer vigil. My dad’s business partner is from Dallas.

Setting

Characters
Woman: 40s, theater-goer
Man: 40s, woman’s companion, know-it-all
Me: Your average musical-obsessed patron

-

(WOMAN, MAN, ME stand in line waiting for theater doors to open)

Woman: (singing to herself) Camelot… Camelot…

Man: What are you singing?

Woman: “Camelot.” It’s a musical, I think.

Man: You THINK? You THINK?!?! “Cats” is indeed a musical. And it’s a great musical.

Woman: No, “Camelot.” Isn’t that a musical?

Man: No, that’s not a musical! Camelot’s Shakespeare.

Woman: I thought it was a musical.

Man: No, it’s Shakespeare, woman!

Me: It’s a musical.

Woman: I thought so! That famous guy was in it.

Me: Robert Goulet?

Woman: No.

Me: He originated Lancelot on Broadway. With Julie Andrews.

Man: Julie Andrews? Julie Andrews was never in Camelot.

Woman: Who was that famous guy…?

Me: You mean Richard Burton?

Woman: Yes!

Me: He played Arthur.

Woman: Yes! And wasn’t there a movie?

Me: Richard Harris played it in the movie.

Woman: Yes! I love you.

Man: Shakespeare also did Camelot.

Woman: You commoner. Speak to my agent, here. She knows Camelot.

Me: It was the first big musical I ever saw. I was way too young for a show about adultery, but I loved it.

Man: Adultery?!

Woman: “Camelot’s” got adultery in it? Ugh. I don’t remember that part.

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Photo: Scene from the original Broadway production of the musical Camelot. At center are Robert Goulet (Lancelot), Julie Andrews (Guenevere) and Richard Burton (Arthur).

I recently reviewed her debut performance as Manon Lescaut here at the Kennedy Center in DC. Having really enjoyed her work, I was delighted when the producer of her latest album Diva On Detour offered to send me a reviewer’s copy.

Racette is no doubt a diva, but she doesn’t have the reputation for it. Fans comment regularly on her warm personality. While watching her bow at the Kennedy Center, my husband turned to me and said, “She looks really humble.” Such words are rarely said about world famous sopranos.

Diva on Detour proves the fans right in this regard. Recorded with a live audience in a small studio, it weaves in personal anecdotes from the star about her mother, her musical interests, and a mildly dirty joke. She charms the room.

As the title suggests, this new album is a detour for Racette as it focuses mostly on American standards – an area of music she loves but rarely gets to sing.

From the album’s opening number “I Got Rhythm” onward you can tell she has an amazing instrument. At the same time, the first few songs sound somewhat forced, lacking the effortlessness a lot of the standards require. The songs are pretty, but they don’t show off her great skill and vocal technique as well as I’d hoped.

Then comes “I’m Calm” – in which her voice frees up and her sense of humor breaks through. She sings “I’m calm… I’m utterly under control,” and I believe by that point she is.

I laughed with her funnier performances. The humorous “To Keep My Love Alive” shows Racette as anything but the tragic character for which she’s known on most stages. This song and other swing-infused numbers would have been well-served by stronger accompaniment – a more full backup band with pianist Craig Terry might have helped bring out the humor even more.

The latter songs on the album are some of my favorite in musical theater, so I was curious how Racette would handle them.

While she struggles with the closing of “So in Love” after an impressive marathon of big numbers, she gives the recording a big, bold ending with “Mon Dieu.” That must be the chest voice her mother wanted to hear when she was younger, and I would love to hear more of it as well.

(Warning: I forgot Racette’s voice can reach the back of the Met. Don’t doubt it can reach your eardrums pretty easily, too. Keep easy access to the volume button…)

Racette performs “Not a Day Goes By” somewhat as an encore. It’s a quieter song than “Mon Dieu” but performed with the power the lyrics deserve. It’s one of my favorite songs, and Racette doesn’t disappoint.

While the recording session for Diva On Detour wasn’t perfect, fans of Patricia Racette will love the intimacy of the album as a whole; and fans of classic American standards will love the power she brings to old favorites while still keeping the songs accessible and personal.

I do wish they’d had time for “Cabaret” by Kander and Ebb. She could belt that one beautifully.

Maybe on her next detour…

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(GPR Records‘ Diva on Detour was produced by Glen Roven, Peter Fitzgerald and Richard Cohen. Patricia Racette, vocalist. Craig Terry, piano. Purchase.)

“Calculations” was filmed at Louisiana State University in February 2013.

–

INT. LOUIE’S CAFE – DAY

JULIE sits at the diner, looking at an old, worn photo of LARRY with a pretty WOMAN.

Larry enters.

LARRY: I didn’t realize she’d given you that.

Julie puts the photo in an envelope and back into her purse.

JULIE: She didn’t give it to me. She left it to me.

Larry sits.

LARRY: Wow. You’re beautiful.

Julie reaches in her purse for her iPad.

JULIE: Let’s get down to business, Larry.

LARRY: You can call me dad …if you want.

JULIE: Larry, what ethnicity are you?

LARRY: Excuse me?

JULIE: Your ethnicity. Look, I didn’t know you existed until a month ago. I’m not here for money or friendship. I need to get a few important details from you, make some calculations, and then you’ll be free to go.

LARRY: I’m Irish. Irish-Norwegian something.

Julie takes notes.

JULIE: Any medical issues in your family I should know about?

LARRY: No.

JULIE (looking him over): Heart disease?

LARRY: Well sure.

WAITRESS approaches and leaves water.

WAITRESS: You folks ready to order?

LARRY: She’ll have the waffle, I believe.

WAITRESS: K.

LARRY: And I’ll have The Mitchell, extra biscuits.

Waitress walks off.

LARRY (CONT’D): You really are incredibly beautiful.

JULIE: I got that way by not eating things like The Mitchell, extra biscuits. Speaking of which, I believe we were on heart disease.

–

Julie painstakingly pours syrup evenly into waffle squares as Larry watches.

LARRY: You’re just like your mother.

JULIE: Thank you.

LARRY: You’re anxious and obsessive.

JULIE: F$#@ you.

LARRY: Did she tell you I left you?

JULIE: She didn’t tell me anything. I found a bunch of stuff in her safety deposit box.

LARRY: Because I didn’t. I didn’t leave you.

JULIE: Well, you sure weren’t around. You must’ve gone somewhere.

LARRY: I went to the Yukon.

JULIE: I don’t know where that is but it’s somewhere.

LARRY: It’s in Canada.

JULIE: You wanted to move from Birmingham to Canada?

LARRY: Oh, we were in Arkansas. Did she never tell you that? You were born in Arkansas.

JULIE: I was not.

LARRY: You were.

JULIE: Dear God could this day get any worse?

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(Photo by Sanja Gjenero)

When the West Side Story creators went looking for investors, they came up empty-handed. Every single producer they approached backed out of the project, worried it was too dark and depressing. Stephen Sondheim had to convince Hal Prince to take it on; and even Prince had reservations. Perhaps the doubters blushed when the film version won 10 Academy Awards – still today more than any other movie musical in history.

Producer Florenz Ziegfeld loved Showboat and felt it was a great opportunity for him professionally. But he worried the tone was way too serious. He particularly hated “Ol’ Man River.” He was wrong.

Fiddler on the Roof drew criticism for having limited appeal, as it dealt with such a specific people group and focused on religious persecution, poverty, and displacement. Those criticisms looked pretty silly when it became the longest-running Broadway show ever at the time, won 9 Tony Awards, and earned over $1500 for every dollar invested in it.

And Les Misérables. Critics weren’t impressed it, either, claiming the show was lurid and melodramatic. It seems to have turned out OK.

It’s tempting to underestimate theater audiences – especially musical theater. After all, these are the people who spend good money to see Elf: the Musical. We assume their fragile little minds can’t handle a death scene or raggedy costumes. But Greek tragedy to Shakespeare to “Anatevka” prove us wrong over and over. Audiences flock to see sad themes well told.

So if you’ve written something everyone thinks is too sad, pour yourself a celebratory glass of something or other.

If sad is bad, then bad is – evidently – quite good.

Setting: Washington Harbour, DC

Man #1: I’ll take the check.

Man #2: No, please, let me.

Man #1: I insist.

Man #2: No, I insist.

Man #1: Seriously, just let me take it.

Man #2: No, I -

4-yr-old girl: (grabbing the check) Dad, I’ll take it.

–

Setting: Locker Room – Arlington, VA

11-yr-old girl #1: Yeah and then we’re going to Madison’s house. Remember when she used to be a loser?

11-yr-old girl #2: Totally.

–

Setting: Coffee Shop – Windsor, Victoria

9-yr-old girl: What do you think of Marilyn Monroe?

Mother: I like her OK, I guess. Why? What do you think?

9-yr-old girl: I like her OK. She’s not my favorite or anything.

Mother: That’s good.

–

Setting: Coffee Shop – Arlington, VA

5-yr-old girl: (points at me) Guilty.

Father: What? What’s that you said?

5-yr-old girl: Guilty. She’s guilty.

Father: Honey, that girl didn’t do anything. She’s not guilty.

5-yr-old girl: (still pointing) Guilty. (in French) Coupable!