October 14th, 2009 - Surfacing

I’m just coming up for air. The water is settling, and if I pace myself now I may even find I can swim.

Ah - but I think we need to go back a few days. Perhaps from the plunge itself.

With the sustenance of family, friends, colleagues, and the tremendous and extensive world that is “Billy Elliot”, I got through my Broadway debut. Imagine.

I arrived at the theatre for rehearsal in the afternoon to find the marquee at the Imperial Theatre changed to include my name. I even took a picture of it... because IT WAS SPELLED WRONG! HA, HA! You see, you get all the way to Broadway, and they still spell your name wrong. It’s okay. I knew about it before I saw it. The old human error, and not a big deal at all, but funny. And by the time I came out from the show in the evening it had been corrected.

Rehearsal was good, and I was let go early. I had time to come home and have a little quiet spell, and force some food into my unwilling stomach. Then back to the theatre for a thorough warm-up. By this time my dressing room was already looking like a wonderful combination of flower shop and liquor store. All the amazing gifts, cards, and well-wishes put me slightly behind the eight ball, and I really had to rush to get my kit on for the show.

I was particularly overwhelmed by a staggeringly enormous bouquet from the theatre community in Calgary. In fact, when I opened their note I fell to the ground and cried. Here is a group of people that I lived with for a short 2 1/2 year spell, ten years ago. And yes, I have returned several times to be embraced by their generosity. But about twenty people got together and donated money to “fill my dressing room with flowers”, and I have truly never seen a bigger arrangement except perhaps in a hotel lobby. And it is still going strong, a full week later! It is moments like this that remind me that my life is so much bigger than day to day struggles, even if the day is a particularly strenuous one.

At 7pm (I had almost shown up for an eight o’clock curtain!) Stephen Daldrey took the stage to a rush of applause. He graciously announced the Broadway debuts of both Alex Ko (in fact... his first play EVER! Not a bad start, I guess), and little ol’ me. Maybe my heart fluttered slightly. And after that... things were mostly a blur. Or... more like looking down a narrow, curving pipe, and waiting to see if the light will ever reveal itself again.

So much help from a supportive, skillful, and humourous company. And a gentle and patient crew.

And then it was over. I had survived. I had not fallen, nor taken anyone down in the process. This I took as an accomplishment.

In the lobby bar we had a toast. My friends Allison and Sam were there, as representatives of all the people from home who were “there in spirit” (I’ll tell you, the spirit house was oversold!). Stephen Daldrey and Julian Webber offered their gratitude and enthusiasm for both Alex and I, and seemed genuinely pleased with the proceedings. That has to be the guide for my success or failure. So I am pleased, too. We drank champagne, and laughed and of course... I got notes. It was all good.

Across the street from the stage door there is an excellent pizzeria, which I will find out the name of. Sam and Al and William Conacher and I headed over there to fill the now empty space which was my stomach. And that was the end of that wacky night. Home to bed. And not much sleep.

Only to rise the next morning, and begin my year on Broadway. Seven more shows, some vocal strain, a little groin pull, some seemingly endless yawning, and a weekend visitor (my friend Di - first visitor from CA!). Poor Di. She had to deal with my complete exhaustion, and my need for disciplined vocal rest. But she was a good sport, and it was great to have her see the show.

So, I’ve bobbed up to the surface, and must now learn the pace, the physical, vocal, and spiritual stamina of doing eight shows a week for the foreseeable future. I’ll tell you one thing that makes it an exciting prospect: this is a beautiful play about the determination (and perhaps, pre-determination) of art in the individual. People love this play. That gives me hope. And I hope it gives all artists hope.