YOU'RE The One That I Want
The show is brilliant. It's so good it's bad and then it transcends that and comes back around to being good again. And then it exceeds even that and becomes fabulous.
The new Grease reality show is overwhelming. Watching a casting process on TV is so humbling and exhilirating. Yes, I get that most of reality TV is staged and obviously manipulated by editors and producers, but I believe that Grease: You're The One That I Want is pure. These wide-eyed actresses who worked double shifts all week at the Applebees in Tulsa so they could buy a bus ticket to New York, ride their hopes and dreams all the way here just to stand on stage in front of some Broadway heavy weights and belt out Hopelessly Devoted to You while batting huge doe eyes, well honestly they break my heart. They speak to the 15 year old theater geek in me who knows every word to Les Mis and who was sure that one day she would play Kim in Miss Saigon (no matter that Kim is a Vietnamese refugee and I'm a Jew from New England, TRUE TALENT HAS NO LIMITS). If this reality TV show had been on in 1996, I would have been on my knees in front of the TV, wearing my Cats t-shirt, holding my Rent double cassette set, worshipping at the shrine of David Ian, literally pawing the TV hoping to crawl inside.
But what wows me the most, in the here and now, sitting in some shitty cafe with free wi-fi in Hells Kitchen, looking forward to rehearsal in Queens tonight where we will continue to cobble together a new play and try our damnedest to change the world (hold for irony. hold...), is the touchingly human quality of the casting committee on this reality show. They are trying their damnedest to make watchable TV. They are trying to be as ruthless as those talent-free American Idol judges with their cutting words and obnoxious jokes. But they just can't do it. Before the Idol phenomenon, Paula Abdul had never had to sit in front of some kid singing their heart out and tell them, "I'm sorry, you're just not right for this." She's never worked with that singer, trying to coax something new and ultimately useable out of them. She doesn't understand the heartache of that poor kid, the work that has gone into these 16 bars, and the thousands of dollars thrown away on conservatory training. So now, in one of those three seats of power, she has no problem giggling at the tone-deaf, mocking over-zealous warblers, and telling the occasional mentally challenged kid who squeaks out Pussy Cat Dolls, hoping to become a star, that they are fucking awful. She can do all that because she's never really had to do all that.
But Kathleen Marshall has. And it shows. Auditions are brutal for everyone. Sure, actors are putting themselves out there, hopeful that they are the one that we want, but the casting committee is hopeful too. All we want is for you to be wonderful. Please. Stop my search right here by being brilliant. Maybe the next person who walks in this door was born for this role. Maybe they're remarkable. And when they're not, we will do whatever we can do to make them better. Maybe they take direction well. Maybe they're a shape-shifter and can morph into what we want. Maybe they can change.
Of course they can't. They're it or they're not. Sometimes we're sure they're it, they prove they're not, but we were so sure, really so absolutely certain they were it, that we ignore all warnings and hire them anyway, forcing them to become the it that we so clearly see in our minds.
Then they get fired after a week of rehearsal.
But in my case all this means is they don't get to perform a two-week showcase in yet another shitshow of an off-off Broadway theater. It leaks. There's exposed wire. It still has the nubby stained rug on the floor from when it was an OFFICE. It gives you asbestos poisoning.
On You're The One That I Want, Kathleen (and David Ian and writer guy) have to get it right. There is no firing. America will choose the leads in their 10 million dollar revival. And they are scared shitless. So between fear of directing freaky newbies in their Broadway debut and being genuinely good human beings who understand the pain of auditions, they are kindly telling every auditioner, "Thanks." "Thank you." "Thanks but you're not quite right for this. Keep trying though!" It is humanity at its finest. It is a true generosity of spirit as these three theater artists maintain their integrity and let hopefuls from Tulsa down gently.
A warm and fuzzy feeling washes over me. A feeling that even when they sell-out and turn to a TV show to sell tickets to their perhaps purposeless Broadway revival of a show so many times revived that we need to just slap a do-not-recesutate sticker on it and move the fuck on, at the end of the day theater people will always be the most human. Maybe it's the low salary. Maybe it's the fear of rejection. Maybe it's the self conscious nature of getting up in front of real people and showing real feelings, but it's part of the reason I keep on keepin' on. The goodness of the people and the need to keep making the work, asbestos poisoning or not.
The new Grease reality show is overwhelming. Watching a casting process on TV is so humbling and exhilirating. Yes, I get that most of reality TV is staged and obviously manipulated by editors and producers, but I believe that Grease: You're The One That I Want is pure. These wide-eyed actresses who worked double shifts all week at the Applebees in Tulsa so they could buy a bus ticket to New York, ride their hopes and dreams all the way here just to stand on stage in front of some Broadway heavy weights and belt out Hopelessly Devoted to You while batting huge doe eyes, well honestly they break my heart. They speak to the 15 year old theater geek in me who knows every word to Les Mis and who was sure that one day she would play Kim in Miss Saigon (no matter that Kim is a Vietnamese refugee and I'm a Jew from New England, TRUE TALENT HAS NO LIMITS). If this reality TV show had been on in 1996, I would have been on my knees in front of the TV, wearing my Cats t-shirt, holding my Rent double cassette set, worshipping at the shrine of David Ian, literally pawing the TV hoping to crawl inside.
But what wows me the most, in the here and now, sitting in some shitty cafe with free wi-fi in Hells Kitchen, looking forward to rehearsal in Queens tonight where we will continue to cobble together a new play and try our damnedest to change the world (hold for irony. hold...), is the touchingly human quality of the casting committee on this reality show. They are trying their damnedest to make watchable TV. They are trying to be as ruthless as those talent-free American Idol judges with their cutting words and obnoxious jokes. But they just can't do it. Before the Idol phenomenon, Paula Abdul had never had to sit in front of some kid singing their heart out and tell them, "I'm sorry, you're just not right for this." She's never worked with that singer, trying to coax something new and ultimately useable out of them. She doesn't understand the heartache of that poor kid, the work that has gone into these 16 bars, and the thousands of dollars thrown away on conservatory training. So now, in one of those three seats of power, she has no problem giggling at the tone-deaf, mocking over-zealous warblers, and telling the occasional mentally challenged kid who squeaks out Pussy Cat Dolls, hoping to become a star, that they are fucking awful. She can do all that because she's never really had to do all that.
But Kathleen Marshall has. And it shows. Auditions are brutal for everyone. Sure, actors are putting themselves out there, hopeful that they are the one that we want, but the casting committee is hopeful too. All we want is for you to be wonderful. Please. Stop my search right here by being brilliant. Maybe the next person who walks in this door was born for this role. Maybe they're remarkable. And when they're not, we will do whatever we can do to make them better. Maybe they take direction well. Maybe they're a shape-shifter and can morph into what we want. Maybe they can change.
Of course they can't. They're it or they're not. Sometimes we're sure they're it, they prove they're not, but we were so sure, really so absolutely certain they were it, that we ignore all warnings and hire them anyway, forcing them to become the it that we so clearly see in our minds.
Then they get fired after a week of rehearsal.
But in my case all this means is they don't get to perform a two-week showcase in yet another shitshow of an off-off Broadway theater. It leaks. There's exposed wire. It still has the nubby stained rug on the floor from when it was an OFFICE. It gives you asbestos poisoning.
On You're The One That I Want, Kathleen (and David Ian and writer guy) have to get it right. There is no firing. America will choose the leads in their 10 million dollar revival. And they are scared shitless. So between fear of directing freaky newbies in their Broadway debut and being genuinely good human beings who understand the pain of auditions, they are kindly telling every auditioner, "Thanks." "Thank you." "Thanks but you're not quite right for this. Keep trying though!" It is humanity at its finest. It is a true generosity of spirit as these three theater artists maintain their integrity and let hopefuls from Tulsa down gently.
A warm and fuzzy feeling washes over me. A feeling that even when they sell-out and turn to a TV show to sell tickets to their perhaps purposeless Broadway revival of a show so many times revived that we need to just slap a do-not-recesutate sticker on it and move the fuck on, at the end of the day theater people will always be the most human. Maybe it's the low salary. Maybe it's the fear of rejection. Maybe it's the self conscious nature of getting up in front of real people and showing real feelings, but it's part of the reason I keep on keepin' on. The goodness of the people and the need to keep making the work, asbestos poisoning or not.
posted by SWC at 8:51 PM
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