I have come to the conclusion that the world is basically divided into two camps: those who love Disney theme parks and those who hate them and everything they stand for. Ever since I was seven years old and my mother brought home the 45 rpm record of IT’S A SMALL WORLD, I dreamed of visiting this magical place called Disneyland.
I have yet to make it to Anaheim, but have been to Florida’s Disney World on three occasions. On one trip my brother and I stayed an entire week in a hotel within the park, completely immersing ourselves in the experience.
My first trip, however, was a different story. I had just played a New Year’s concert in Miami and had a few days free, so I decided to head north to Orlando. I recall the thrill I felt when I first saw the gates of the Magic Kingdom, and once inside I was determined to completely immerse myself in the glow of this wondrous place.
I felt a little conspicuous, a single man enjoying the Dumbo ride and the Country Bear Jamboree on my own, but I had been anticipating this visit since I was seven and was not going to miss the chance to fully enjoy the Disney experience. After several hours of glory I emerged from Cinderella’s Castle and heard, faintly in the distance, the siren’s song that had first ignited my burning desire to visit this place.
There it was; the “It’s A Small World” ride. Excitedly I joined the line of riders, noting that I was the oldest one there by a long shot, which I imagine was the reason the ride operator seated me by myself in the front row of the boat once we finally boarded.
For those who have never experienced this ride, let me paint a picture. A large boat with several rows, each seating numerous people, floats through various tableaux of what the 1950’s Disney designers assumed to represent the world’s many cultures. Creepy animatronic dolls, all of them frighteningly identical other than their skin colour, move around clumsily while the well-known Sherman Brothers’ song, “It’s A Small World After All” plays endlessly.
Of course this is magical to the average 7 year old, and I revelled in the memory of the hours I had spent playing that old 45. This ride might be old and outdated, but its very simplicity harkened back to a simpler time.
Then unexpectedly our journey came to a grinding halt. Something was clearly wrong with the mechanism that moved the boat, but I assumed it would soon be corrected. I then became acutely aware that I was the sole adult on the ride, sitting alone in the front row with dozens of small children behind me.
I turned around and found several kids already in tears, no doubt terrified that we would be stuck in this terrifying place forever. I attempted to talk to them but, as most kids today have rightly learned, one never talks to strangers - especially creepy guys sitting all by themselves on a children’s ride. I was beginning to feel like a Disney villain, kidnapping frightened children and spiriting them away to my evil island.
Miraculously the sound system had somehow managed to escape any breakdown, since the song continued to play. Incessantly. Relentlessly. The minutes ticked past. 10, 15, 20...all the while a chorus of hysterical children sobbed along with the mocking lyric, “It’s a world of laughter, a world of tears…”
How had I never realized how insipid this song was? The United Nations and the European Court of Human Rights have both banned the use of loud music in interrogations; the U.S. military even uses the term “music torture.” How had any evil-doer not yet discovered the power of this single recording?
Almost a full half hour into this ordeal, the boat finally jerked back into motion and headed toward the exit doors. As we emerged into the sunlight I dreaded what the mobs of panic-stricken parents were about to see. There I sat, front and centre, the evil Captain Hook with my crew of weeping children, waving feebly as we returned from Neverland.
Shortly thereafter Disney decided to revamp this ride. Perhaps they discovered that not everyone in the world looks the same, or that their song could far more easily be used for evil than good, or maybe they decided to no longer allow solitary adults to take a boatload of kids into a dark building for half an hour.
I’m not sure. All I do know is that, should I ever again visit It’s A Small World, I will be certain to take along two things. Another adult and earplugs.
Showing posts with label summer theater. Show all posts
Showing posts with label summer theater. Show all posts
Tuesday, August 14, 2012
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
SUMMER THEATER JOYS
Another summer dawns warm and pleasant…or stiflingly hot and humid, depending on your point of view. So far in the Toronto area we have had several days of record-breaking heat, interspersed with massive thunderstorms and a tornado warning in nearby Hamilton. Still, it’s summer!
Since the 1980’s this time of year has usually found me working in what is known as Summer Stock Theatre. Once called the Straw Hat circuit and plentiful all across the country, many of these theatres eventually fell prey to television, video and more recently the Internet. It seems to be a tougher job every year to get people out of their cottages, away from other forms of entertainment, and into one of the charming little theatres that still dot our country, mostly in rural areas.
Many of these theatres are situated in small opera houses, under large tents or in converted barns. In fact ever since Mickey and Judy exclaimed, “Let’s put on a show! My dad’s got a barn,” the combination of barns and theatre has formed an integral part of the summer experience.
What sets barn theatres apart from other venues is that they are invariably situated in a bucolic setting, far from the city, surrounded by peace and tranquility. The downside is they often smell of former occupants, and are usually not air-conditioned.
The Red Barn Theatre in Ontario was known as the oldest summer theatre in Canada. Its rafters rang with the memory of all the entertainers who had performed there, from Harry Belafonte to Jason Robards to Wayne and Shuster. My first performance there was as part of the Second City comedy show, and many a hot, sweaty evening was subsequently spent on that stage, hoping we’d complete our performance before the raccoons dropped any surprises on us from the rafters (which on several occasions, they did).
The final show I did there was the classic Canadian musical, Anne Of Green Gables. We had a stellar cast, a terrific band, beautiful costumes shipped in from the Charlottetown Festival…and 45-degree temperatures on the stage. Stage lights tend to add a good 10 degrees to the ambient temperature, and mixed with that summer’s overwhelming heat and the actors’ heavy costumes, people were passing out long before we got to the Act One finale, “Ice Cream.”
Oh, the “Ice Cream” song. At the end of the song our heroine Anne accidentally gets her delicious ice cream cone mashed against the front of her dress. Well, you can’t use real ice cream on stage, as it would melt too quickly, so usually shaving cream is substituted. Our production used whipped cream instead.
The management of the theatre at that time was what could charitably be described as “thrifty,” and they had no intention of spending any money to dry clean the costumes during our entire summer run. Eight shows a week for ten weeks, Anne had whipped cream spread across her wool dress, then quickly wiped off with a wet towel during intermission.
As anyone who has ever left cream out in the sun can attest, heat is not its friend. The mixture of dairy product, intense heat and lack of cleaning eventually caused our beloved Anne to…let’s just say her presence was felt long before she walked onstage.
During one performance as she danced across the stage in her aromatic outfit, I heard a voice in the front row plaintively cry, “Oh my god, what’s that smell?” I wanted to shout out, “Canadian theatre!”
The indignities didn’t stop there. The thrifty management decided to save the cost of hiring a set designer, so they took the plans from another production and scaled down the two-storey set to fit on their stage. It was a wonderful cost-saving measure, except they forgot to tell the carpenters of this plan so they built it full size. Anne’s second-storey bedroom was so high in the air that when she stood up her beautiful red hair was six inches from those hot stage lights.
I can’t say for sure but I’m fairly certain there has never been another production of this show where the local townsfolk had to extinguish Anne’s wig. For a brief moment we actually hoped that the raccoons would pay us an early visit.
The success of ANNE allowed the theatre to finally, after 50 years, install air conditioning. Sadly, this iconic theatre was consumed by fire two years ago, and the beautiful Red Barn Theatre was lost forever.
This summer I’m fortunate to have 2 of my musicals on the road. BOARDWALK! The Doo Wop Show, is in Brockville, Ontario in July, and THE ROCKY ROAD TO DUBLIN will be bringing Irish music and comedy to The Piggery, a beautiful barn theatre in North Hatley, Quebec, in August. Happily, both venues are air-conditioned.
And I promise to clean the costumes.
Since the 1980’s this time of year has usually found me working in what is known as Summer Stock Theatre. Once called the Straw Hat circuit and plentiful all across the country, many of these theatres eventually fell prey to television, video and more recently the Internet. It seems to be a tougher job every year to get people out of their cottages, away from other forms of entertainment, and into one of the charming little theatres that still dot our country, mostly in rural areas.
Many of these theatres are situated in small opera houses, under large tents or in converted barns. In fact ever since Mickey and Judy exclaimed, “Let’s put on a show! My dad’s got a barn,” the combination of barns and theatre has formed an integral part of the summer experience.
What sets barn theatres apart from other venues is that they are invariably situated in a bucolic setting, far from the city, surrounded by peace and tranquility. The downside is they often smell of former occupants, and are usually not air-conditioned.
The Red Barn Theatre in Ontario was known as the oldest summer theatre in Canada. Its rafters rang with the memory of all the entertainers who had performed there, from Harry Belafonte to Jason Robards to Wayne and Shuster. My first performance there was as part of the Second City comedy show, and many a hot, sweaty evening was subsequently spent on that stage, hoping we’d complete our performance before the raccoons dropped any surprises on us from the rafters (which on several occasions, they did).
The final show I did there was the classic Canadian musical, Anne Of Green Gables. We had a stellar cast, a terrific band, beautiful costumes shipped in from the Charlottetown Festival…and 45-degree temperatures on the stage. Stage lights tend to add a good 10 degrees to the ambient temperature, and mixed with that summer’s overwhelming heat and the actors’ heavy costumes, people were passing out long before we got to the Act One finale, “Ice Cream.”
Oh, the “Ice Cream” song. At the end of the song our heroine Anne accidentally gets her delicious ice cream cone mashed against the front of her dress. Well, you can’t use real ice cream on stage, as it would melt too quickly, so usually shaving cream is substituted. Our production used whipped cream instead.
The management of the theatre at that time was what could charitably be described as “thrifty,” and they had no intention of spending any money to dry clean the costumes during our entire summer run. Eight shows a week for ten weeks, Anne had whipped cream spread across her wool dress, then quickly wiped off with a wet towel during intermission.
As anyone who has ever left cream out in the sun can attest, heat is not its friend. The mixture of dairy product, intense heat and lack of cleaning eventually caused our beloved Anne to…let’s just say her presence was felt long before she walked onstage.
During one performance as she danced across the stage in her aromatic outfit, I heard a voice in the front row plaintively cry, “Oh my god, what’s that smell?” I wanted to shout out, “Canadian theatre!”
The indignities didn’t stop there. The thrifty management decided to save the cost of hiring a set designer, so they took the plans from another production and scaled down the two-storey set to fit on their stage. It was a wonderful cost-saving measure, except they forgot to tell the carpenters of this plan so they built it full size. Anne’s second-storey bedroom was so high in the air that when she stood up her beautiful red hair was six inches from those hot stage lights.
I can’t say for sure but I’m fairly certain there has never been another production of this show where the local townsfolk had to extinguish Anne’s wig. For a brief moment we actually hoped that the raccoons would pay us an early visit.
The success of ANNE allowed the theatre to finally, after 50 years, install air conditioning. Sadly, this iconic theatre was consumed by fire two years ago, and the beautiful Red Barn Theatre was lost forever.
This summer I’m fortunate to have 2 of my musicals on the road. BOARDWALK! The Doo Wop Show, is in Brockville, Ontario in July, and THE ROCKY ROAD TO DUBLIN will be bringing Irish music and comedy to The Piggery, a beautiful barn theatre in North Hatley, Quebec, in August. Happily, both venues are air-conditioned.
And I promise to clean the costumes.
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