Recent stuff at Bloglander

Visit the Theater Blog at inlander.com to view

a slide show of Metamorphoses at the Civic (through April 17),

a slide show of Race at Interplayers (through April 16),

and a review of A Streetcar Named Desire at Gonzaga (which closed March 27).

THEATER THIS WEEKEND appears there every Thursday.

Or just visit the Inlander home page, the Arts & Culture page or The Inlander's Facebook page.

*Buddy* photos

Buddy: The Buddy Holly Story

Sept. 24-Oct. 24 at Spokane Civic Theatre (just east of the Spokane Arena)

Thurs-Sat 7:30 pm, Sun 2 pm

Tickets: $28; $26, seniors; $20, students; $10, student rush

From Lubbock to Nashville, from the Apollo Theater in Harlem to a dreary Iowa cornfield, follow the career of the rock 'n' roll pioneer in horn-rim glasses.

with Brian Gunn as Buddy Holly, Paul Villabrille as Ritchie Valens and Jhon Goodwin as the Big Bopper

book by Alan Janes and Rob Bettinson

directed by Yvonne A.K. Johnson

music direction by Mike Saccamanno and Jim Ryan

choreography by Troy Nickerson and Jillian Wylie

*Buddy* cast list

Brian Gunn, Jhon Goodwin and Paul Villabrille will headline as (respectively) Buddy Holly, the Big Bopper and Richie Valens in the Civic's production of Buddy: The Buddy Holly Story (Sept. 24-Oct. 24).

The rest of the cast list is here. Michael Hynes will play Hip Pockets Duncan; new Civic music director Jim Ryan will also appear onstage as one of the Hayriders and as Jack Daw, leader of the Songbirds.

Yvonne A.K. Johnson will direct, with Michael Saccomanno and Jim Ryan sharing the music-direction responsibilities. Choreography will be by Troy Nickerson and Jillian Wylie. Tia Woolley will produce and stage-manage.

A review of an April production in La Mirada, Calif., is here. Apparently the book's not much, but the songs are wowza! I don't know about you, but I plan to re-watch the Gary Busey film just as soon as my Netflix queue cooperates. 

[ photo: Jiles Perry "J.P." Richardson, aka the Big Bopper ]

*The Four Princes* opens tonight

Thursdays-Fridays, Aug. 12-13 and Aug. 19-20, at 7 pm
at Spokane Civic Theatre, 1020 N. Howard St.

Fractured (or at least modernized) fairy tales, written and directed by Jean Hardie (winner of the Civic's LIfetime Achievement Award) and peformed by her students in the Civic's Summer Academy

review of *Escanaba in da Moonlight*

at Spokane Civic Theatre through April 25

A man with a rifle brings it to bear directly at us. He cocks the hammer. Takes a big, calming breath.
On the way in to the huntin’ lodge for openin’ day of deer season, you see, he’d had a vision. (Maybe it was all those PBRs he drank -- but to him, it was a vision.) A vision of a huge buck, dancin’ on the highway, as he was drivin’, right before his eyes. So he raised his .30-.30 (this being the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, he calls it his “turdy-turdy”) and then he “cocked back the hammer and blew him off the face of the earth.”
This is David Gigler as Remnar Soady -- all mismatched plaids and camo pants -- inviting us into his world for opening’ day here at the world-famous Soady Deer Camp somewhere out in the woods outside the town of Escanaba, where boys become men when they bag their first buck, and all the women have come to the conclusion that all the men are merely morons.
Gigler’s portrayal of Remnar is one of the funniest features of one of the funniest productions the Civic has created in recent years. Director Troy Nickerson’s gift for portraying men making fools of themselves, along with Peter Hardie’s man-cave of a rustic huntin’ lodge set, Hardie’s ominous lighting -- there are creepy things out in the Michigan woods -- Jan Wanless’s costume design (plenty of flannel and ear flaps) and Jeff “Dumberer” Daniels’ comic-onslaught of a script all combine, at breakneck pace, to create an enclave of eccentrics who think they see happiness, don’t know what to make of it, and decide to fire off a few rounds just to work off their frustrations.
Escanaba in da Moonlight, which has been produced all over the country ever since Daniels premiered it in 1995 at the little Upper Peninsula theater that he oversees, is full of sex jokes, gross-out jokes, cockamamie conspiracy theories and concern for the male pecking order.
It’s not men behaving badly, in other words -- it’s men behaving normally.
All that, and Act Two has the Mother of All Extended Fart Jokes.
And there, my friends, is where the comedy lingers.

Wes Deitrick -- with dumb geniality straight out of The Red Green Show, and with the befuddled looks and excess of flannel plaids to prove it -- acts as the clan’s patriarch and the audience’s goofball narrator. If scratching yourself constantly, fantasizing about 18-point bucks, staying in a hootch-induced stupor all day, and making fun of anyone who’s not from northern Michigan seems like it might be a foreign experience, Deitrick’s Albert Soady is there to guide you.
Gigler knows how to play the confident doofus, sure of his hunting mastery right up until he isn’t. (Then the little superstitions tumble out.)
The plot (more like a series of boyish squabbles over nothing’, but funny) revolves around the fact that the other Soady son, Reuben (Civic newcomer Scott Miller, persuasively desperate) has dishonored the family by remaining, at age 35, “buckless“ and “without venison.” (He’s “just not a straight shooter.”)
As Reuben pursues his buck-bagging quest, the action gets entangled with alien abductions, maple-flavored whiskey and Native American rituals (in ways you’ll just have to witness for yourself).
In a show that hurls its eccentricities at you relentlessly, the most eccentric characterization belongs to Todd Kehne as Jimmer Negamanee of Menominne. (Say that fast five times, and you’ll be talking gibberish just like he does. Jimmer hasn’t been the same since strange things happened to him out in the woods, you see.) Kehne is a revelation, with incredibly high energy, antic fits, and expressions that convey his puzzlement that the backwoods boys around him don’t realize that they’re just as insane as he is. (Slightly better diction, is all.)
For a glimpse of the attention to detail, both by Nickerson and his cast, watch the episode when Reuben introduces the gang to some foul-smelling stuff that supposedly wards off evil spirits. The joke -- and as in much of Daniels’ play, you may see it coming, but it’s funny anyway -- is that once it gets all freaky-deaky outside, the guys are going to go for the liquid they were just now acting all squeamish about. One dabs it daintily, with two fingers grazing his neck; one splatters himself; another slathers it on.
Or when characters, seemingly catatonic, suddenly but briefly rise up just to clarify a point or two -- you can see where rehearsals paid off, where Nickerson and his inventive actors had experimented, tried things out, and opted for the funniest bits.

The script and acting both veer off occasionally into the kind of excessive silliness that can make an audience become self-conscious about being directed to laugh instead of simply laughing. The eccentricities of the forest ranger, the predictability of who’s behind Reuben’s vision-quest (and why), the childish exuberance of some of these men’s rituals and superstitions (over-indicated, and with too much stepping on the laughter) all briefly intrude on the fun.
But not much, and not for long. Daniels and Nickerson keep the surprises and the goofin’ at a fever pitch, and the result was a whole lot of belly laughs

People were wiping away tears, they were laughing so hard. (I noticed this, right after wiping away my own.)
That fart joke, it’ll really blow ya away, yah sure.
Escanaba in da Moonlight is one of the funniest and inhibition-shattering comedies you’re likely to see.
I may be more like those “white wine-drinking, Winnebago-driving, fun-sucking trolls” who live in urban areas of the Lower Peninsula (like, God forbid, Detroit) -- and I’ve never handled a “turdy-turdy” rifle in my life, but I’d go back to spend a couple hours with the Soadys anytime. Somehow they remind me of the no-slugs, penalty-beer, passed-out-on-the-couch-so-put-his-fingers-in-warm-water days of my misspent youth.
I’d like to spend some more of it. And the Soadys seems to have their fingers in my pocket.

[ video cover (2001) from hotmoviesale.com ]

Review of *The Spitfire Grill*

at the Civic’s Studio Theater through April 11

You’re feeling depressed. You need comforting. You seek out a friend.
Your friend consoles you, but she also keeps calling attention to how kind she is for doing it. She even keeps reminding you of how she's doing it -- this memory here, that joke there, the shared memory that always makes you smile. (Remember?)
Pretty soon, you don't feel consoled anymore. Your friend is taking more pride in her own counseling skills than in actually comforting you. You feel a mix of uplift and manipulation.
That's what watching The Spitfire Grill is like.
Director Marianne McLaughlin's production of the 2001 musical (downstairs at Spokane Civic Theater through April 11) offers highlights: David Baker's cozy backwoods set, three compelling performances, several lovely musical moments, the inspiration of seeing regular folks overcoming adversities. But vocal weakness, a score and lyrics that are serviceable but usually not memorable, and too many emotional crises undermine this rendition of the popular musical.

---

The three standouts are Manuela Peters (as Percy, the outcast who reinvigorates these small-town folks and teases out their secrets), Brian Gunn (as her love interest, the local sheriff), and Liberty Harris as Shelby (the domineered housewife who asserts herself and forges a friendship with Percy).
Peters has a tour de force in "Out of the Frying Pan," when she sings expressively and cooks ineptly, all at the same time. (Baker's working diner pays attention to detail.) Harris rises to the show's vocal peak in the following song, "When Hope Goes," a lament for a small-town hero. With affecting simplicity -- just a few economical movements -- Harris conveys a parade passing by; for the song's conclusion, Harris made "We are waiting still" convey all the disappointment of hopes that have been smashed. Peters and Harris together generated lots of girlish excitement in "The Colors of Paradise" and in the whole flurry over the future of the Grill. (Despite some quavering in her unaccompanied show-opening solo, Peters demonstrates that she can hit the high and joyous notes.)
Gunn looks more like a choir boy than a sheriff, but he has the knack of acting while singing: In a couple of songs about the forests looming outside this small Wisconsin town, he switched from skepticism to appreciation. (Percy, we're supposed to think, has that kind of magical effect on everyone.)

None of the rest of the cast, however, is vocally strong. They were in earnest, but their emotions sometimes got splattered by flatted and off-key notes.
Aaron Waltman avoided cliche by tempering the grouchy, controlling husband's grouchiness and control issues. But his singing has projection and pitch problems.
As the elderly owner of the diner, Judi Pratt was too grandmotherly from the outset: More aloofness and distrust would better suit her few tight-lipped lines in the early going and, in addition, set up an emphatic contrast with the rejuvenated woman she becomes. Sallie Christensen found the comedy as the local gossip-monger.
At the keyboard, music director Janet Robel leads cello and mandolin in musical accents that support the action, right down to the plink-plink of a telephone being dialed.
McLaughlin's direction is best in its simplicity: stand-and-deliver solo moments, a nice three-part madrigal for the passage of winter into spring that underscored the townspeople's hopes and disappointments.

On opening night, part of the sound system went out. Lighting cues were slow, and actors sometimes strolled into dark dead spots (and remained in them). But those technical difficulties will soon be fixed.
What won't find a remedy is the show's herky-jerk sentimentality, in which characters' emotional sore spots and long-withheld secrets, barely hinted at, are suddenly broached in one song and smoothed over in the next -- so we might as well wipe our hands on our aprons and move on to the next emotional crisis, because thank God, that one's taken care of. Peters, for example, packs emotional wallop into Percy's big second-act revelation, but then a redemptive song like "Wild Bird" soon follows, and that's all sorted out, then. Fred Alley's lyrics over-rely on repetition, and they tend to literalize their metaphors -- again, over-emphasizing the symbolism and yanking on our heartstrings.
In the show's least believable redemption, Percy reintroduces a fellow outcast to society in "Shine." McLaughlin and Peters deserve much credit for the beauty of this testimonial song, with the actress extending two hands toward a heavenly light and pleading, it becomes clear, for her own and everyone's redemption. But I couldn't shake off the feeling, while watching, that a deeply entrenched problem stretching over several years had just been solved in the space of a few minutes.

Puppy dogs and the National Anthem -- they make me tear up every time. But when you stuff a two-hour musical with the distrust of outsiders, prodigal sons and daughters, controlling spouses, long-held resentments, the protection of family secrets, sinners in need of redemption, touching complaints about hard times, unlikely romance, marriages busted and mended, busybodies and small-town American values, by gum, it all gets too frothy. There's too much insistence on the audience's fellow-feeling.

In just nine years, Spitfire has been produced hundreds of times, all over the country and even internationally. Problems are overcome, lives are redeemed, the value of community is affirmed. The show obviously appeals to plenty of folks.
I had high hopes for this production, and it has its moments. But mostly, I was disappointed. Spitfire's flame shines brightly at times, but mostly it's weak and flickering.

Added on March 21:
The initial version of this review attributed the set and lighting design incorrectly. David Baker designed the set and lights for this production.

Opening-night review of *Sylvia*

At the Civic’s Studio Theater through Feb. 21

You’ll be reminded of some simple truths and learn a few lessons during director Brooke Kiener’s production of A.R. Gurney’s romantic-doggy-triangle of a love-comedy, Sylvia. Sharing and self-sacrifice are important, for instance. Naysayers are no fun, but fun-lovers are lots of … fun, for a couple of others.
In a good but not-as-good-as-it-could-be production, pacing and tonal shifts are a problem. But the dog lovers’ fantasy -- a show with an actress playing a talking dog -- creates a lot of infectious energy, love and fun. There’s even some marital counseling and lessons in self-determination along the way.
Sylvia is a lovable mutt of a play, a mix of comedy and seriousness -- something to return to for reassurance and reminders.
And it’s a script that’s being served here by two exceptionally good performances — by Beth Carey as the dog and by Bill Forant as Greg, the man who finds Sylvia wandering one day in Central Park.
When called upon, Carey scurries and scampers and sniffs as Sylvia -- leaping into arms, hopping up and down, hugging Greg’s knees, nearly dry-humping a house guest. (She feels bad about that. She went overboard. Her features darken, she bows her head.)
Carey’s adoring eyes laser in on the man who saved her life; she kneels on command, but only resentfully. Her performance ranges from insecurity to mysteriousness, from sexy to resentful, from horny to child-like. Carey has a tomboy vocal quality, full of angry rumbles, that makes the show’s funniest sequence — Sylvia’s getting livid at the sight of a filthy stinkin’ cat — even funnier. For the comedy, Carey has clearly done her doggy homework; for the serious advice scenes, she relies on her own personal assertiveness. It‘s a performance with many facets, and it’s fun to watch. (Full disclosure: Carey formerly worked at The Inlander as a sales rep.)

In his Civic debut, Forant displayed the kind of puppy-dog, boyish energy and wonderment that you want to see in a guy who’s having a midlife crisis and just wants to get back to natural basics. He has a kind of hemming-and-hawing Ray Romano quality -- the self-deprecating drawl, the disbelief injected into conversational pauses and restarts.
Forant allowed the sentiment of the final scene to overwhelm him for a moment -- but he also carefully calibrated how to build up the sadness in the scene when Greg is forced to decide between his dog and his wife: with hunched back, eyes glistening, voice breaking, he presented a strong contrast to his earlier, puppyish, new-dog-owner self.

As Kate — Greg’s wife, who’s starting a new career and doesn’t really have time to have a dog running underfoot — Anne Lillian Mitchell has a thankless killjoy of a role. (You can just feel viewers’ sense of fun and anticipation when man and are running around and learning new tricks — and then The Voice of No enters the room.) But Mitchell breaks through the harridan’s shell and shows us a rounded character during at least two sequences, both involving the possibility of Sylvia’s departure or demise. Kate strides purposefully through this serio-comedy, intent on pursuing her academic dreams; but Mitchell, at times, softens the harsh exterior nicely.
Jerry Sciarrio contributes three small roles, and while his macho New Yorker and sexually ambiguous marriage counselor were well observed, he didn’t create much vocal differentiation at all for his Freudian-slipping socialite. Particularly on entrances and exits, however, Sciarrio shares a lot of well-observed characterizing details about the three figures he portrays. And watch for how much comedy Sciarrio extracts from such little things as a well-timed purse snap and a grimacing refusal to drink a glass of water.

From a directing standpoint, too many scene-changes dawdled; the dialogue often had dead spots. Switches from comic to serious need to be more seamless — and the energy of the physical comedy scenes, which are quite good, could afford to show up in the more lecture-like episodes. Greg trying to figure out the meaning of life, Kate planning for her new career — the onstage dog should yawn (and does), but we shouldn’t: Attack those with more intensity, and both the pace and joie de vivre will pick up. In addition, the final scene, full of nostalgia, sadness, and gratitude for the love of a dog, was handled with a bit too much back-slappy self-congratulation: The audience needs time to register all that’s just happened.
In at least one thrust-stage scene, director Kiener kept husband and wife rooted to the couch long enough for some playgoers to become over-familiar with the backs of heads. But she also directs Sylvia’s rambunctious scenes with verve, and she gets mileage out of a bit when Greg expresses his preference for manufacturing over trading currencies, for things over abstractions, and reaches out to touch someone who, for him, is as real as it gets: Sylvia.

Set and lighting designer Peter Hardie has created a lovely NYC skyline as backdrop for the Cole Porter love-longing of “Every Time We Say Goodbye.”
I don’t want to say goodbye to my memories of Gurney’s script any more than I ever want to say goodbye to my own dogs.

Video preview: *Sylvia*

A.R._Gurney's comedy opens at the Civic's Studio Theater on Friday, Jan. 29.

The three-minute video includes a chat with director Brooke Kiener and with actress Beth Carey, plus rehearsal footage.

[ photo: from puppydogweb.com ]

Auditions for *The Spitfire Grill*

Monday-Tuesday, Jan. 18-19, at 6:30 pm, with callbacks on Wednesday (if needed)
on the Civic's Main Stage

Director Marianne McLaughlin seeks 3m (20s-40s) and 4w (20s-70s)
Cold readings; prepare a verse and chorus from a contemporary musical; dress comfortably; accompanist provided.

The Spitfire Grill, by James Valcq and Fred Alley, based on the film by Lee David Zlotoff
Music Direction by Janet Robel; choreography by Troy Nickerson

Performances: March 19-April 11

A young woman named Percy is released from prison and hopes to put down roots in a small Wisconsin town. A musical about community.

In the '96 movie, Ellen Burstyn played Hannah, the owner of the grill who takes Percy under her wing. Marcia Gay Harden played Shelby, the wife of Hannah's nephew Caleb and a much better cook than Percy.

The musical started previews (off-Broadway, at Playwrights Horizons) just four days before 9/11.

*Tuna* review addendum

[photo of Joe Sears, one of the Tuna creators, as Aunt Pearl Burras, from the Austin Chronicle]

Bobo's Nov. 26 print review of A Tuna Christmas at the Civic is gimmicky, as you'll see. It says what I intended, but I want to expand on some points.

This is a good show that's consistently funny. I don't think it's a great show, because I don't think that it conveys the loneliness and sadness of some of the characters. To pull off physical comedy as well as Dan Anderson and Damon Mentzer do is remarkable. But in my view, a production that's predominately full of hilarious physical and verbal comedy but which also has touches of pathos and sentiment is superior to a show that serves up comedy alone.
Petey Fiske is pathetic and funny, but also touching: He's an inept fool and he keeps getting brutalized and overwhelmed by animals, but he LOVES those animals, and at least he's trying to help creatures that are literally society's castoffs and discards. I remember seeing flashes of that personal, pathetic sadness in Bill Marlowe's own performance three years ago at ARt, but not in Anderson's this time around.

But you can only admire the logistics of this show — all the memorizing and quick changes and rapid-fire timing.  The five-person backstage crew (were there even more?) deserve much applause for the quick changes and momentary impersonation of the two actors, the UFO, everything.

I can imagine playgoers who are seeing Tuna Christmas for the first time being really pleased with and amused by this production.

But it may have a different effect on those who've seen the show before. 
Because you can't just cite the ADVANTAGES of remounting an often-produced play (Tuna Christmas hasn't been done at the Civic before, but it has elsewhere, and it's hilarious, and it has name-recognition in this market). There are also, from a theater's point of view, some DISadvantages: Folks around here may have already seen this script performed elsewhere (2001 at Interplayers and 2006 at Actors Rep for Tuna Christmas, and that doesn't count at least a couple of other Greater Tuna productions).
(Click here for Robert Faires' April 2002 article in the Austin Chronicle on "The Secret History of Tuna.")

And you have to measure up to the memories. And this production, in my opinion, mostly does, but not completely.

Take the final scene: divorced Arles Struvie maneuvering for a dance with Bertha Bumiller (reluctant to drink alcohol, yearning to have her husband and a stable home life back, but lonely and not unwelcoming when it comes to being the recipient of an advance by a locally famous radio personality). Mentzer's progressive drunkenness and stiffening with pleasure at the touch of a man after so long were very well-observed. But since two earlier exchanges about Bertha's loneliness weren't given their full weight, the scene seemed more cute than Christmas-sentimental. (I'm referring to Bertha's reply to Stanley, that all she wants for Christmas is his father at home; and Stanley's frank admission to Aunt Pearl that the husband ain't never gonna come home.)

I didn't think Anderson vocally differentiated Didi Snavely (the gun-shop owner "with a voice like an ashtray full of burnt-out cigarette butts," as I think one reviewer put it) from Petey or Jody Bumiller (the little boy). (I thought Didi could be angrier -- she's arming herself to the teeth and has a no-good deadbeat UFOlogist of a drunken husband.)

But both Anderson and Mentzer were amazing, stunningly good in the Dixie-and-Pearl scene that closes the first act. They must have studied the characteristics of elderly women, because they captured all of it — aching bones, facial tics, eagerness to be regarded as lively still, even if their more energetic glory days are long gone.

The Civic's Tuna isn't a perfect show, but it's very good, and funny, and entertaining.

20 Questions ... well, about 14 Questions ... with Jean Hardie

Jean Hardie has been doing shows at the Civic for 28 years. She's currently appearing there in String of Pearls. 

First, let's do the bio.  Where did you grow up and go to school? First exposure to theater? Theater you did in high school and college?  How many years and shows at the Civic? How many years teaching at St. George's?  How many years with Box 'n' Hat?

            I was born over in Mount Vernon and lived in Anacortes until I was 8, then a year in Littleton, Colo., then on to Sacramento, where I grew up. My father was a musician and my mother was a dancer; but by the time I came along, my father managed a dime store and played his saxaphone on weekends and my mother had opened her own little dance studio. There was always music and dancing around. I took tap and ballet from the time I was very young and danced in recitals, etc.  Apparently, I played Little Black Sambo’s Mother in our first-grade play, although my memory of it is somewhat vague. I was in one play in junior high and spent my high school years pining to be a cheerleader. But I did write — and act in — a lot of the skits for the pep rallies. 

I went to Sacramento City College after high school.  On my 18^th birthday, my best friend and I decided to audition for the first play of the year. We were both so scared! Well, she got the lead and I got a small part — and that, as they say, was that. I was completely and utterly bitten by the “acting bug." I think I was in every production we did there for the next three years, including my first musical...the role of Alma Hix in The Music Man (“that woman made braaaazen overtures...”).  I went to Sac City for three years ... I lost a big part of one year to a bout of mono ... but although I dropped a lot of classes, I didn’t drop out of The Cherry Orchard. After those three years, I worked for a year and saved up money to go on to Sacramento State. Pete and I got married during that year. We also worked at the JayRob Playhouse, a community theatre in Sacramento which did all comedies. We ushered, did props, worked backstage, played small roles — and watched a lot of performances of a lot of shows ... great experience. And I was a member of a group of young performers — very much like Box ‘n’ Hat, actually — for about a year. 

On to State College. A lot of the same — did a lot of shows, but I was, in actuality, an English major. In 1970, the year we graduated, the Kent State shootings occurred.  That year sort of ended in a blur ... a bunch of us theater types formed a political sketch comedy troupe, and we ran around doing our show wherever we could — including the park downtown next to the Capitol building in Sacramento. I think we were somewhat disappointed that we never got arrested, although we did get asked to move on a couple of times. (It was a different world.) I got my degree even though I never really finished a couple of my classes. The professors accepted a write-up of our theatrical exploits in lieu of finals. Go figure.

          Upon graduation, a group of us — a lot of the same kids — decided we knew enough to start our own theatre ... and so we did. Major Gray’s Company was formed, and we did some pretty good shows over the next couple of years on the second floor of one of the few buildings left standing in Old Sacramento ... just before it got developed into quite a happening tourist destination. But by that time, Pete and I had moved up to Seattle. He got his master's in Design at UW. I worked and had daughter Joanna. Then, out of the blue, we were invited to move to Helena, Montana, where Pete worked as the resident designer at the Grand Street Theatre. I did lots of shows there and I had son Ian. In 1981, the job at Civic opened up, Pete applied and was hired; and we moved here. Our youngest son, David, was born here.

          Since 1981, at Civic Theatre, I have directed – and, where applicable, choreographed — somewhere around 33 shows. String of Pearls will be the 30th show that I’ve appeared in at Civic. I’ve also done shows for Spokane Children’s Theatre, Interplayers, CenterStage, and Valley Rep, but the Civic is certainly my theatrical home. 

            I directed the Box ‘n’ Hat Players for 20 years.  My daughter was one of the original players.  My youngest son graduated from the troupe in the last year I did it. A nice full circle. 

          I’ve been the Drama teacher at Saint George’s School for the last 13 years.  We do at least three mainstage shows a year out there ... so I guess you could say that I’ve done my fair share of theatre in Spokane. And I’m reasonably proud of most of it.

 

Let me be blunt and ask questions that you may certainly wish to overlook.  Right now, you're the ex-wife being directed by the second wife.  That sounds really awkward.  When was the divorce?  Was it a case of being terribly difficult to act anywhere near Peter for a few years, and then gradually becoming something that worked out?  (My sister got divorced after 20 years and four kids; for the following 20 years, she and the kids and her ex all lived in close proximity and interacted a lot, even as he remarried not once but twice. So I have some sense...)

I am bewildered as to why this should be of any interest; and I am somewhat offended at your asking this question at all, so I sort of waffled between:

a) forgetting about this whole interview; b) saying “none of your goddamn business, so fuck off"; c) politely skipping past it; or d) just going ahead and answering. 

          It’s not awkward at all. The divorce happened about 10 years ago. Things may have been awkward for a very short time for the family, but since our decision to end our marriage was predicated upon our remaining best friends, there wasn’t much point in being awkward, bitter, angry, etc. Peter and I have been a couple since 1966. The romance may have worn itself out, but the love and the friendship have not. I cannot imagine my life without him as a part of it. I think the world of Susan … always have; and I am gratified to see them so happy together. 

          If there has been any awkwardness, it has been from other people not knowing how to react; but that seems to have worked itself out. 

Anecdote: A few years ago, I ran into someone I hadn’t seen for awhile; and out of the blue, he asked me how my daughter was doing.  “Fine," I said. “Still out in Seattle, doing some performing, etc. etc.”

“But what about this show that she’s directing in the Studio Theatre?” he asked.

“Uh … no,” I said.

“But it says so right here,” he said, showing me the Studio brochure: “Susan Hardie.” As it dawned on him what he had said, he was pretty embarrassed. I thought it was pretty funny.

 

From your perspective as a drama instructor, what mistakes do young and/or beginning actors commonly make? 

Commonly – and very generally: They fail to pick up cues, so the pace drags; and yet, they rush through the moments that need time — they are afraid of pauses.

They speak too quickly — sometimes too softly — and don’t enunciate clearly enough.

Often, they see themselves inaccurately ... they think they are performing an action or a movement in a much bigger way than they really are, and it is difficult to convince them to give you more.

They wait too long to get their lines learned. They don’t think enough about what the character is really saying, doing, wanting, meaning, thinking, etc.... they don’t listen or react enough; and what comes out is line recitation.

They resent the fact that acting/performing/rehearsing is hard work, and they whine.

They lose things, a lot — scripts, props, costumes, schedules, you name it. Some young actors are arrogant and sure that they know more than you do ... they don’t realize that no matter how talented you are, you should stay open to listening and learning for as long as you live.

          All that being said, it is also a most rewarding thing for a teacher or director when they feel they have really taught or brought out something in a student or young actor. It can be really thrilling.   

 

We hear a lot that the audience for theater is aging, graying, dying out. Yet with Box 'n' Hat and at St. George's, you work all the time with young people who are enthusiastic about theater. Has the High School Musical phenomenon paid off, with musicals increasingly popular among teens today?  Or do they hunger for more contemporary (not Oklahoma!) and less cheesy (not HSM) musicals?  Or do teens today have so much entertainment competition (mp3's, videogames, YouTube, movies) that they truly are losing any taste for handcrafted, live entertainment (of the sort that theater provides)?

I thought you were sending me the first 10 questions ... there are at least three or four questions right here!

I don’t feel that I am qualified to speak to this question for the very reasons you state above. I work all the time with kids who are already crazy about theatre, performing, singing, dancing, acting – even directing and writing – and watching. Their appetite for what is “new” is unquenchable.  The interesting part is that often what is “new” to them is really old stuff.  I see this pattern over and over again.  They are all about the newest thing ... Wicked, Spring Awakening, In the Heights, etc. But if you play them a classic musical theater song from some vintage musical, they fall in love with that, too — they “discover” it all over again. It’s cute. 

           I will also go out on a limb and make another odious generalization by saying that a big difference between theater geeks today and young people of my generation is a layer of ironic awareness that we didn’t tend to possess. They recognize cheesiness and embrace it knowingly in all its cheesy glory. You might call it the Glee Effect. At the same time, they recognize great artistry, too. They are free to love it all – even things they know are bad – as long as they are gloriously, sincerely bad. 

          As always ... non-theater geeks — of any age — need not apply. They will just look at you as though you were speaking a foreign language. It’s always been that way, and it will always be that way. I imagine that the percentage of high school theater geeks has remained pretty stable over the years.      

 

What's the most important thing that you've changed your mind about? Why did you alter your opinion?

            Having kids.  When I was young, I didn’t want to have children. (So I’m glad I waited until I was a little older before having them.) I have to be honest and say that my opinion was altered for me when I got pregnant. None of the three kids were planned. One thing I haven’t changed my mind about, however, is that having children should be a personal choice and that it is a big serious business that should not be entered into lightly!

         

What's your best idea for getting more people to attend theater?

            Get Hugh Jackman, Jude Law, Kristin Chenoweth, Bernadette Peters, Sutton Foster and Cheyenne Jackson to come to your town and be in one of your shows. Or get them to read the phone book. (You could probably sell tickets to watch them brush their teeth.) In general, I would say that most people are cautious about putting out the price of a theater ticket unless they are reasonably sure it’s going to be worth it ... hence, the cult of stardom. I do recognize the impracticality of this idea, however, and doubt that it’s going to happen.

          Beyond that, I haven’t the slightest idea. Do good theatre? Sure — but it’s no guarantee. Do well-known plays and musicals? They’ll be sure-fire hits ... unless they aren’t. Do new and exciting works? Create buzz? Great! But will it actually translate into ticket sales? THERE IS NO ANSWER TO THIS QUESTION. If there were, theaters would be filled to capacity for every performance.

You do the best theater you can, get the word out as best you can and hope for the best. It’s a hard fact to accept that a great many people just don’t care for live theater. If we’re lucky, a few of them will give it a try and develop a taste for it, but most won’t. What seems magical and meaningful to us just isn’t attractive or interesting to most people. I think it feels like it’s going to be too much work or something.  That’s how it is. 

          Still ... more local media coverage couldn’t hurt. 

         

Think of all the shows you've done at the Civic — rehearsals, onstage, backstage, in the green room, the fiascoes, the relationships, all of it. Please specify your three favorite exact memories from your years at the Civic.

            One: On opening night of the very first run of Nunsense, during the last number of the first act, I did this little jump and pulled a muscle in my calf — I swear I could hear a “ping." I really couldn’t put any weight on it at all. I hobbled through the rest of the number in a blur. During intermission, we iced it and wrapped it and someone found me a cane. I really don’t remember who, but I owe this person a debt of thanks, because from that moment on, the cane became an integral part of Mother Superior as I play her.

During the second act of Nunsense, there is a scene in which Mother Superior is very angry at the other sisters and orders them to follow her offstage — presumably to do some kind of penance. At that precise moment, I remember thinking, “I’ve always wanted to do this.” I fixed them with a serious stare and said, “Walk this way.” Then I turned and limped off thinking, “If they don’t pick up on this, I’ll kill them!” They did. They limped off after me. The audience laughed – a lot – giving me a reason to whip around and almost catch them at it.  They – Marilyn Langbehn, Deanna Stover and Jennifer Jacobs – played it perfectly. We kept it in, and it always got a wonderful laugh, but there was something really cosmic – almost magical – about that first time.

          Two:  Watching my daughter play Maria in West Side Story in 1995. I think I was there for all but two or three performances. I had choreographed a production of WSS in Montana about 10 years earlier. She went to a lot of rehearsals with me and saw the show several times. I didn’t know it at the time, but she dreamed then of playing that part someday. I was thrilled and proud and awestruck by her performance. 

          Three: Every summer for the past 13 years, we have done summer camp shows at Civic. Several years ago, I began to write an original script for the Main Stage camp show each summer.  The first truly and completely original script I wrote was called Portrait of Love. It is still my favorite of all the scripts I have written. It involved paintings in a museum coming to life after-hours and interacting in the lives of the “real” people. During the show, there is a moment when the Woman in the Red Dress, who has spent the day in the “real” world, must now return to her painting. As Alli Standley moved back into place behind the painting, the lighting effect worked perfectly so that the portrait appeared to go from being flesh and blood to paint and canvas. The audience gave a collective oooh-aaaah. It was such a thrill! 

 

My guess is that you're very well read.  So what's on your night stand now?  Last good book you finished?  And what, in all her extensive free time (ha!), does Jean Hardie do in the way of hobbies?

            I am not well read at all. In fact, I am appalled at how little I read now compared to my younger years. So my stack of things to read is enormous and I will never work my way through it. I am particularly fond of biographies. Most recently, I finished a bio of Stephen Sondheim and have worked my way through most of James Lipton’s memoirs. I devoured the Harry Potter books and cannot deal with the reality that there won’t be any more. I read Entertainment Weekly every week. Right now, I’m reading the script of String of Pearls every day ... so that — and keeping up with all the dancing shows on TV — keeps me pretty busy.

Other hobbies? Well, honestly, theater is my hobby and my greatest passion; but I also love to do some crafty things with beads and decoupage when I have a little extra time. Oh, hell, let’s be really honest ... if it wasn’t for Spider Solitaire, I’d have time to take over the world!    

 

You get to meet your 18-year-old self. What advice do you have for her? Would she listen to you?

Well, aside from the obvious — eat less, exercise more and don’t forget to floss — I would say:

          Make bolder choices. Don’t be so afraid of failure: “Stink with authority.”

          Learn to handle rejection better. Don’t get so upset. Don’t take it so personally: “Deal with it and move on.”

          Learn not to care so much about what other people think of you. Don’t be afraid of making a fool of yourself: “To thine own self, be true.”

          Deal with who you really are, not who you wish you were: “Know thyself.”

 

She would want to listen — she would recognize the truth and wisdom of the advice — but since she is still struggling with these issues even today, I’d say it’s unlikely that she would be able to implement the advice in any practical way. 

 

Please describe the half-dozen characters whom you play in String of Pearls. What do you know about one (or some) of them now that you did not know before rehearsals began?

Four of my characters are quite small in terms of lines and stage time. I play a down-to-earth housekeeper, a Tunisian woman who pretty much leeches off her niece, a judgmental Jewish mother and a knowledgeable jewelry store owner. These four are really just snapshots in the stories told by the other women in the play.

In rehearsal, we have talked quite a bit about how these minor characters are, metaphorically, some of the grains of sand which cause the irritation in an oyster that ultimately turns into a pearl. It’s a lot of fun to put on a costume and turn into someone else for less than a minute. You have a lot of freedom to make bold choices. You are the stuff of memory; and memory has distilled you down to what is most vivid to the rememberer. 

          My other two characters are ones who get to tell their stories. One is Ela, a Wisconsin divorcee and the other, Dora, a cultured New Yorker.

Each character tells of a set of experiences that bring about big life changes and which are, in some way, affected by the almost mystical power of this particular string of pearls. Since both women are, I think, very different from me, I’ve learned almost everything I know about them since rehearsals began. Before the auditions, all I really knew was that there were some pretty freakin’ long monologues in this puppy.  Now that the monologues have become stories, I’m surprised every night by how quickly the time goes and how soon I have to say goodbye and leave the stage. As always, I have also learned — again — that no matter how different someone may be from you, you will inevitably find something you have in common with the character.

I can certainly relate to Ela’s wounded self-esteem and her need to hibernate for a while. And like Dora, I fear the hidden power of the past. There are things we both want to keep at bay; and when they bubble to the surface, that’s going to be a difficult day.

There is both joy and agony in doing such a challenging piece as String of Pearls. It’s a joy to get to immerse yourself in the world of these characters, but an agony to have the fear that you won’t do them justice on the stage. But I am seeing a quality of work in this cast and crew that makes me very proud and happy to be part of this show.

[photo: baby Jean]
[photo at top: Jean Hardie and Robert Wamsley in Barefoot in the Park, at the Civic, Jan. '08  -- "a picture that actually I really like a lot" ]