A quick intro to The Last Starfighter.

I did it! I spent the morning trying to figure out my crazy schedule for the three weeks of the festival - from the initial list of 27 shows I wanted to see, I was only able to get tickets to 9. But now between ushering, about $80 out of pocket and a variety of friends who are working on shows and can get me tickets that way, the list is actually up to 28. Crisis averted; my schedule will be just as packed as I wanted it to be. I'd imagine that posts in this blog will become unintelligible by the time I get to show 27 and am running on an hour of sleep.

Unlike my fellow bloggers who are hopping from show rehearsal to show rehearsal, I've been blessed with the opportunity to help out on The Last Starfighter and see the whole process. NYMF scheduling is insane - since all of the actors have other jobs and multiple auditions, barely a day goes by without me having to stand in for someone in a group number so we can complete the stage picture. I really enjoyed watching our PSM sing "Can you fix Elaine's antenna, cause she's in her second menopause!?" the other day when standing in for the role of Granny. The cast of 17 has mostly been learning music and choreography so far, and I can't wait until the show gets into state where we can put it all together. We're currently on break, so I'm typing as Jesse JP Johnson shows off his Altar Boyz choreography, Ryan Jesse spreads his excitement for tomorrow's season premiere of The Office, and Nora Blackall and Danny Binstock go over Act 2's big ballad with composer Skip Kennon. There's so much life in this rehearsal hall.
The Last Starfighter is going to be an interesting beast for these performers. We've been rehearsing with a piano so far, but the show will be run with tracks, so currently Skip is trying to set performances to a point where he can start creating tempos and keep character to a song that runs the danger of sounding the same every night. I'm so excited for the show. I feel like the musical climate is littered with irony and self-mocking, but The Last Starfighter is just sincere in its sillyness. I wonder what John will think of it, considering his last blog entry on the necessity of camp in movie adaptations?

Lunch in 10 minutes, at which point I'll deliver the props I bought to The Brain from Planet X rehearsals. For anyone who was wondering, Red Bull cans are incredible fragile - something I bumped against earlier this morning tore right through the side of the can, and all of my receipts? Covered in Red Bull. Lesson learned.