Sunday, September 12, 2004


Whatever happened to saturday night?

The rehearsals continue apace for Halloween at the Vogue. It took me a while to get up to speed, as I found that, despite my self-assurance, I don't remember all the choreography I knew by heart thirteen years ago. I'm also no longer capable of dancing and running around the theater while singing at the top of my lungs. For the first time, I may have to lip-sync as Eddie.

I also knew that perceptions of me within the cast wouldn't be the same, but I wasn't prepared for how differently I would be seen. Back in the day, I could say just about anything, no matter how salacious, and get a laugh. Now that I'm a good ten years older than most of my castmates, I know to hold my tongue, lest I be seen as sweaty-child-molester-guy. Well, I probably am anyway, but why fuel the fire?

By the same token, I had to be discreet with the camcorder. I've been bringing it along, hoping to put together a short documentary about the cast experience, not to mention the experience of getting back into it after so many years gone, but it seemed tonight that every time I started recording, it would be during some of the girl-on-girl action. There's a lot of that--we have a pretty estrogen-heavy cast this time--but again, I don't want to be creepy-perv-guy taping the sexy stuff for private use later. Again, unlike back in the day, particularly a certain poker game after the show one night.

So here's something from the old days that I hadn't thought about until recently; costuming. Specifically, having to dress in layers. See, in a stage production, you get a lot of extra time to cover changes in sets and costumes. But in a movie, you just cut to the next scene. So as Brad, for example, under the tux I started the show with, I would be wearing tighty-whiteys (two pairs, for safety), under which would be my garter belt and black briefs, while my fishnet stockings would be tucked into my socks, so that when the floor show came, I could strip off the outer layers and quickly pull up the fishnets and attach them to the garter belt, throw on my corset and boa, and go.

Hadn't even thought about that until tonight, when the director was discussing a bit of business with someone and wanted to know if she had time to throw on a nurse costume for a gag.

Chris gave me shit over the idea of Rocky Horror HAVING a director, or rehearsals, or the rest of that official shit. Well, back then, we were on every friday and saturday night. THOSE were our rehearsals. During the quiet weeks, we would be honing our skills, polishing the show to a high sheen for the busy times. Theoretically, at least. The point is, this time we need to rehearse because we only get one show, then this backasswards city is Rockyless for another year.

I think about that fact, and I get wistful, and want to try to campaign to get regular showings. Then someone will make a joke about our Rocky's tits, and I have to sit down and catch my breath after Hot Patootie, and I remember why that's a bad idea.

Copyright 2004 Rich Bowen

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