Thursday, 17 May 2018

Finish Line

At about the time my students seemed inclined to stop working in the winter semester--around mid-March--I pitched the example of the Olympic sprinter, who must run through the finish line, not just to it. 
Though the context differs, I thought of my sprinter again when I opened my Oak Floors binder at Stone's Throw this afternoon. My first impulse was to find my way back to where I'd already been, more or less, which is where almost every bit of writing I've done in the last year has gone. No wonder the thing is moving so slowly. I'm seeing only one direction: the show. What if I wrote through it to somewhere else?
Nevertheless, I offer for the first time this entirely preliminary sketch of Act Two, beginning with song titles:
"Names." Patty arrives again at the front door of her heritage apartment, locked out.
"Cuts That Won't Heal." In the Amenities Room (AR), someone proposes a talking game, and a few people accept.
"Hey, Janitor." Patty and the Janitor take what might be step 2 in some kind of romance.
"What Kind of Boy or Girl Were You?" Continuation of AR game.
"You Gotta Be a Fan." Evelyn's tribute to professional sports.
"Him and Her." Joe, from the kitchen, and Beck, from the laundry room, sing a duet, a love song.
[no song yet] Continuation of AR game. (Thus, one of the ways people come together in this piece is around the games table.)
"You Have to Believe It Happens." Step 3 for Patty and the Janitor, on the rooftop patio. (Step 1, in Act One, was their visit over coffee in the basement boiler room.)
"Each Other's Song." As in, what they become verses in. 
The End

Wednesday, 2 May 2018

First and Last

Though I prefer the scene I'll link to later, this ending to The Music Man (the movie) is not bad. Being an old marching band kid helps (me, that is).
The marching gets ragged. Sure as shit, Hollywood has fucked up the simple act of people keeping time with their feet. I've always found the song ("Seventy-six Trombones") corny. That a marching band would achieve utter cultural dominance of a community to the point that every single person, young or old, prances along with the band . . .
In Regina today at the theatre, "Big at the start, big at the end," said the director, referring to tomorrow's sing/read-through for theatre staff. The full ensemble having arrived only two days ago, two songs is all we've had time for. Let's make them the first and last.
That takes us to "Fugue for Tinhorns," the smash opening of Guys and Dolls, here presented in its movie version. This scene suggests the voices, styles and times we're about to experience, but none of the central characters. It's a joy of its own, especially as played by these actors, whose names I'll look up later.