Places, Please!: Becoming a Jersey Boy (13 page)

I watch the matinee, then jump in a cab that is waiting (yes, waiting) to take me to the airport.

“Are you one of the
Jersey Boys
?’ the driver asks.

“Yup.”

“Did you just get off the stage?!”

“Yup.” I am such a liar. But it feels so good to say.

After a brief layover, my plane arrives in Orlando after midnight. The producers arranged a rental car for me, but sadly it is at a place that closed at midnight. Only one place, Budget Rental, is still open, but since it is just about the end of their day too, they only have one car available. No problem. I am sure I will be reimbursed by
Jersey Boys
for their mistake. While they finish filling out the paperwork, their computer system shuts down automatically because it is past closing time. The employee actually has to call a manager at home to figure out how to get the system back online; needless to say I am very late getting out of there with a car. I have directions, so I begin driving towards Walt Disney World Resort. What I do not have, however, is cash, and the first thing I notice about the highway I get on is that it’s a toll road. When I arrive at the tollbooth, I explain that I have just come from Canada, am here on business, and am so sorry but I don’t have any money.

Do they have an ATM I can use?

“No,” I am told. “You just need to take this paper with you and promise not to make this mistake again.”

A promise? That’s it? I’m definitely not in New York anymore. The paper, incidentally, is very funny and talks about how understanding the highway commission wants to be to tourists and other visitors. They praise themselves in this paper for allowing the occasional freebie, and I praise them, too.

I praise them even more when I encounter a second tollbooth fifteen miles down the road. Once again, I explain my situation and am given a second, very nice note from the highway commission.

When I finally arrive at the hotel, I actually feel like I am on vacation. There are palm trees galore, signs telling me about breakfast with Mickey, and a gigantic gift shop. I am starving, so I go to the hotel store and buy a sandwich and a beer and bring them both to my room so I can unpack and settle in. I will be here for two weeks, I think (I’m losing track of the days), and I want to feel comfortable.

While eating, I rearrange the furniture to give myself the rehearsal space that I know I will need. Half of the hotel room becomes my stage, clean and empty with plenty of room for Mashed Potatoes. When I finish the new design, I step outside my room onto the shared balcony, just to breathe for a bit. My short meditation is interrupted when the room next to mine opens up and a German man in his underwear asks me, very sternly, if I have been banging on his door.

“Of course I have not been banging on your door,” I tell him. But then, five minutes later, a security guard walks up to me and asks the same question. Welcome to Disney World! I assure the security guard that German men in their underwear are not usually my type, and that he probably just heard me rearranging furniture through the very thin walls of this populist resort.

It’s 3:30 a.m. and not even an irate German man can keep me from drifting in and out of sleep as I write. I check my email for the rehearsal schedule and discover that I will have only a few hours of rehearsal each day because the people who will be teaching me the show are actually in the National Tour and they open here in two days. Ugh. I need more than a few hours a day of rehearsal to get this stuff right. How am I going to immerse myself in the show if I am only rehearsing a few hours a day? On the other hand, this will give me plenty of time to run things over and over by myself, so at least I will know well the things I learned. I will have no excuse not to know things well. Maybe it’s good to have lots of time by myself. I still have more harmonies to learn, after all.

May 11th, 2009

Today is, officially, my only day off for the week. My brain can’t afford to actually take the day off, but I at least give my exhausted body what it needs and sleep until 11:30 a.m., and then begin working. I sit with my coffee and work on harmonies. I use the stage I created and the small mirror hanging on the wall to go over the choreography I have learned so far, then decide to go down to the pool to review my lines (I lead a tough life).

When I go outside in the light of day, I realize this resort looks nothing like the pictures I saw online. Though it’s nice enough, it is not a fancy resort, and actually seems more like a glorified motel. It does have a hot tub, though, and I sit near it while running my lines. Would you believe it? I know them all. Every one, no mistakes. Ok! I’m getting there.

I find myself needing changes of scenery to keep my brain attentive, so I spend the rest of the day, and long into the night, fluctuating between my in-room rehearsal studio and various locations outside. Inside my room, I review choreography while listening to harmony parts on my digital recorder, putting the two elements together for the first time. (I don’t get through any songs without messing up. Yet.) Outside, I wander the paths of the neighborhood listening to harmonies and trying to get through at least a few songs without a vocal mistake. I work from 11:30 a.m. until 2:00 a.m. with only a quick break for a shower and a muffin, and another for a sandwich from the lobby. Some day off!

I shouldn’t be sarcastic about that, though. In reality, I spend my day across from Walt Disney World in perfect weather working on the kind of show I have dreamed about being in since I was a little boy. It is amazing when I really stop and think about what I am doing, but it is hard to stop and think about what I am doing when there is just so much of it to do.

Tomorrow, my rehearsal will begin with a choreography session led by the National Tour’s dance captain. Now that I have a relationship with Caitlin and know how she likes to work in rehearsal, I am nervous to have to start a relationship with a new dance instructor. Everything makes me nervous these days, doesn’t it?

Even my marriage.

“I have been crying for half an hour,” Cara says in a late-night call, “How are we going to do this for a year? I have no one to talk to.”

“I’m right here, hon. My phone is always on.”

“Yes, but it doesn’t feel like you are right here when you are down there because down there is very far from right here.”

“You sound like Dr. Seuss.” (Afterthought: Not a smart thing to say.)

“Huh? Daniel, I don’t even understand you.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I was making a dumb joke. I’m sorry. You are feeling alone,” I say.

“I’m not feeling alone. I am alone.”

I’ve been away from home exactly sixty-seven hours, which is exactly sixty-six hours too long.

May 12th, 2009

Today is a major workday, but also ends up being a day of major excitement and inspiration. I begin by driving ten miles (still in a funk from last night) to a rehearsal studio the producers rented. There are no studios at the theatre
Jersey Boys
is playing in downtown, so they found one a little off the beaten path. I arrive early and observe a stilt-walking team rehearsing jumps and flips. Ok, so they have a cool job, too.

When they finish, I enter the room and begin running through the Big Three while waiting for the dance captain, Kara Tremel, to arrive. In New York, I rehearsed with just Caitlin or Shelley in the room, sometimes with an accompanist on the piano. But here in Florida, the dance captain arrives with the production stage manager, associate musical director, and props master. This is the real deal now, my friends. A lot of money is being spent on me today.

After brief introductions, they want to see what I know. So, the associate musical director plays straight through “I Go Ape,” “Sherry,” “Big Girls Don’t Cry,” “Walk Like a Man,” and “Dawn” without a break. I sing something close to my vocal parts and dance something close to my choreography. I do not totally rock it, but (all things considered) I do not embarrass myself.

We work for four hours cleaning choreography for the portions I was already taught and learning just two new parts: Dawn Three and “Beggin.” Dawn Three is the culminating theatrical moment of Act One, when the performance is turned around backwards so that the audience sees the Four Seasons performing in concert from a reverse perspective. For most of the audience, this is the first time experiencing what it feels like to be on a huge stage and lit by so many bright lights. “Beggin” is a fun number to do, and has a lot of fancy footwork. I am told that the hardest thing in this song will be matching guitar angles with the actor dancing next to me, but for now the hardest thing is just getting my feet to move in the right direction. I write down every little move (Kara lets me have short breaks to do this) so that I can remember it all in my hotel room later.

After rehearsal, I drive over to the nearest gas station for a perfect dinner of coffee and hot dogs. I eat in the car on my way to downtown Orlando, listening to my harmonies the entire way. After taking far too long to find parking, I go into the Bob Carr Performing Arts Centre. This theatre has the biggest auditorium of any legit theatre I’ve seen. It holds twenty-five hundred people, and feels like it stretches out forever. I am introduced all around.

The
Jersey Boys
performing company is comprised of:

• fourteen regular cast members (six of whom understudy other roles, too),
  
• an alternate who performs the role of Frankie twice a week,
  
• three male swings who cover four or five roles apiece (a swing is an understudy who does not perform a regular role each night, but remains at the theatre just in case),
  
• a female swing who covers all three female roles,
  
• and ten musicians.
  

I think I just met all of them tonight. I am given an ID badge that identifies me as a cast member(!), and move out into the house to find an empty seat. There are very few. I meet up with some of the swings out in the house. They are watching the show tonight because this is a very exciting performance for the company. Remember Buck, who I auditioned with so many times back in New York? Well, after a year of being an understudy for Bob and never having the chance to go on, he performs the role for the first time tonight. His wife is watching as well, and can barely control her enthusiasm. I am asked to sit with this contagiously enthusiastic group, and instantly feel like part of the family.

So, what are my first impressions of this cast? Buck is terrific and innocent and sounds strong. He is a much better Bob than I could have been. The show as a whole seems broader, probably because they are playing in a much bigger space than any other company. The jokes all land. The choreography is clean and fierce. And best of all, the Tommy DeVito is different than Jeremy. The actor, Matt Bailey, is terrific and clearly has his own spin on the part. He sings with a fuller voice. He is much more aggressive. And, therefore, he gives me visible permission to find my own take on the character. I know this should be obvious and may seem kind of silly to put into words, but this show is directed with such detail that I was starting to feel like there was only one way to do it, and that I had to find that way. But there’s not only one way. This Tommy is entertaining hundreds of thousands of people with a different spin, and I can too. I’m invigorated. I’m ready for more rehearsal where I can play and experiment. I’m also very tired and am going to bed now.

May 13th, 2009

I have four hours of blocking rehearsal onstage today with the production stage manager, Eric Insko. This man knows the show backwards and forwards, and can tell you within inches where anyone should be standing at any given moment. His knowledge of
Jersey Boys
is epic.

This rehearsal is the first time they allow me to actually stand on a
Jersey Boys
set, and it feels wild. Like every set of all the shows I’ve ever been a part of, it seems a lot smaller when you are on it.

There is a bridge section raised high in the air, and every time I walk across it, I feel like I am going to fall off. There is also a small perch section that I will have to stand on many times. This section rises ten feet above the stage, twenty feet above the front row, and has only a short railing to hold on to. And my big discovery of the day? The floor of that perch is made of Plexiglas, so you see right through it when you stand up there. I go up five times today and still can’t get rid of the dizzying feeling.

While working on blocking with Eric, I don’t really say my lines full-out. In fact, I realize that I haven’t ever said my lines full-out to anyone. I am forever marking my performance because I am forever working on some element that is not character, voice, or intention. In order to really learn about this character, I need to speak and interact. It is hard to get in the head of Tommy and track his thoughts while being taught where to stand and how to dance; and not saying the lines full out doesn’t help either. I have always worked best, and learned most, with full run-throughs of scenes.

On the other hand, if I want to say my lines full out then I should say them full out. Maybe the truth is that I am nervous about being judged. I’m embarrassed. A ridiculous reason, but I think it might be true. I have worked for two years for this coveted role, and I am embarrassed to speak the lines aloud because I’m not good enough yet.

I have an hour of rehearsal with the National Tour’s musical director. There are a lot of people helping me learn this show, but I am still not sure why I am learning it here in Orlando instead of in Toronto with my actual company. (And I will come to see that I never learn why I rehearsed in Orlando instead of Toronto.)

The musical director and I go through all of my harmonies just to make sure I am singing the correct lines. And I know them all! I am relieved at that. Now, I have to repeat a few of them once or twice to correct myself, but in general the hours I have spent listening to and singing the harmonies have paid off.