Twitterpated for Danielle Ate the Sandwich

In an attempt to gain more Twitter followers (and the hollow but desirable sense of pseudo-validation that accompanies said quantity), I have decided to start a weekly schedule of events to break up the monotony of my constant tweets about my cat and her general disdain for me.
Spiritual Sunday: I will share a lesson in enlightenment from someone who enjoys a slightly higher state of awareness than the average Joe. (No offense, Joe.)
Music Monday: I share some tunes and possibly video from a local (or not so local) artist that I think will present a treat for your ears.
Teach Me Tuesday: Those little life lessons that are oh so useful. I started this little experiment last week with a video on how to tie a bow-tie.
Weird and Wild Wednesday: Stuff I find that is weird, wild, or both. Kind of a twisted show-and-tell. (Or, if you went to kindergarten where I did, regular show-and-tell.)
Thankful Thursday: A thing or things for which I am grateful.
FACE Friday: You'll see.
Save-the-World Saturday: A cause I think deserves your attention.
That's seven, right? Okay. I should be be able to keep up, I might skip a day here and there or put Wednesday and Thursday up both on Wednesday if I'm going to, say, have a life on Thursday. (It could happen.)

Now, these will just be happening on Twitter (badwolf1013) for the most part. The One Big Bad Wolf blog will go on as it always has.
However, I may decide that something I find worth tweeting about deserves your attention here on the blog as well.
Today, for example, I want to share my Music Monday selection with you all here.
Danielle Ate the Sandwich is a very pretty, very talented, very funny gal with a ukulele who has achieved some local and YouTube notoriety, but deserves more in my personal opinion.
Here's her site (DanielleAteTheSandwich.com) and here's a couple of my favorite homemade videos:
Another Day
Rich Girl (Hall and Oates Cover)
Afterwards (No ukulele but maybe my favorite.)
Born In the Wrong Body REPEAL PROP 8!!!!!!!
By the way, that's Danielle you hear on the theme song to KDVR Fox 31's "Everyday with Libby & Natalie" TV talk show.
I hope you enjoy Danielle Ate the Sandwich as much as I do, and follow me on Twitter if you just can't get enough Big Bad Wolf.

Reminiscing: The Audition Story

One of my more popular blog entries and a story that I am often asked to share at parties is my rather unfortunate audition in 2006 for Town Hall Arts Center's production of 1776.
As there are a number of auditions coming up in town over the next week or so, it seemed an appropriate time to share the horrific story once again.
Rest assured, I do not plan to make a habit out of blog re-runs, lest this become like a later episode of The Golden Girls where Blanche, Rose, Sophia, and Dorothy sit at the kitchen table eating cheesecake and reminiscing through flashbacks of previous episodes. (God, I loved that show!)
Enjoy my misery, piglets:

So do I get the part?

I recently had an audition experience that I thought would be worth sharing simply for entertainment value.
Preferring to direct, it's been a while since I've been to an audition on the other side of the table. Recently, however, I heard that Littleton Town Hall Arts Center was holding auditions for one of my favorite musicals, 1776. I decided that I would dust off the old vocal chords and give it a shot. I went to a vocal coach, hired out a rehearsal session with an accompanist, picked out a favorite monologue, and basically "got my act together" for the audition.
On the day of auditions, I was feeling pretty confident. My voice was in pretty good shape, song and monologue were memorized thoroughly, and I was relaxed.
When my name was called, I strode confidently into the audition room, introduced myself, went over my music with the lovely and talented Amanda Farnsworth (music director for the show and accompanist for the audition), walked to the little yellow "X" that marked the audition spot, and turned around to face the auditing table.
Now, on that 70's TV show, "Wonder Woman," when Lynda Carter turned around a half-dozen or so times she would turn into a butt-kicking Amazon Princess. Evidently, I should have kept turning, because my half-turn transformed me into a blithering idiot.
I really think that I felt the room shift, and for a moment, I didn't know where I was. The director said, "Give me just a moment" as he scribbled something down.
I said, "Take your time," because I honestly couldn't figure out how I'd gotten into this room. After a moment, I became very aware of the fact that the very pretty girl at the piano was looking at me. I smiled. She smiled back. Then I realized that everyone was looking at me. I smiled, and the director said, "Whenever you're ready."
Ready? Ready for what? Why do they keep looking at me? That girl at the piano is really cute. Piano? Music? Sing! Sing, you idiot! You're in an audition!
Amanda nodded at me. I nodded back. Then she started to play. Oh nuts! What's my song? What's my song?
Miraculously, I remembered the first word of the song just as it came time to sing it. And when I say sing, I do so because I cannot accurately describe the sound that actually came out of my mouth on that first note. It is a sound that I recall hearing only once before in my childhood on a Mutual of Omaha wildlife special. I don't recall what creature made the terrible sound, but I do recall that Marlon Perkins looked scared, very scared. By the second note, my voice had become almost human again, and I proceeded, mildly shaken, into the rest of the song. I was almost to full vocal power by about the tenth bar, and I thought, we may pull this one out yet, when inexplicably, the next word of the song disappeared from my brain. I stopped, and, for some reason, grabbed my throat. (Did I think that I had swallowed the word?)
At that moment, I remembered a quote from Winston Churchill: "When you're going through hell, keep going."
I backed up a couple of bars and got a "running start" at the missing word, thinking, it's in my brain somewhere. It'll find it's way out.
Nope. I stopped again. Evidently, the word had been frightened away by the horrible screeching animal that had appeared at the beginning of the song.
(The word, by the way, was exception'ly. Not exceptionally. Exception'ly. Frackin' Lerner and Lowe.)
I backed up again and took another run at it. When I got to the offending (and absent) word, I mumbled like it was a secret (it certainly was to me) and finished the song. Then, partly as a release and partly just because the whole thing had been so comical, I started to laugh. Amanda then started to laugh. Then the rest of the panel started to laugh. Whether the correct preposition was with or at, I may never know, but it gave me a second to regroup.
Then I began my monologue: one of my favorite pieces by Oscar Wilde.
I got about five seconds in when suddenly, the missing word -- exception'ly -- jumped back into my head like a wayward croquet ball. Relieved as I was at finally remembering the word, I became painfully aware of the fact that, with its re-entry, it had knocked the rest of my monologue right out of my head.
Now what?
Well, knowing the basic theme and story of the monologue, as well as Oscar Wilde's fondness for alliteration, I decided to fake my way through until the monologue came back to me. I don't think it ever did. I started out alright, but as I became increasingly aware of the fact that the monologue was seemingly gone for good, both my concentration and my British accent deteriorated. The panel was then subjected to an oddly-gesticulated amalgamation of Long John Silver in an Irish Spring commercial. As I forged through, unable to understand my own ramblings over the loud hum of Oscar Wilde spinning in his grave at 400 rpms, I thought I heard the voice of Winston Churchill saying to me, "Dude! Let it go!"
I somehow managed to find a stopping point in my tirade/audition, and then smiled and left the room. (I don't know if I stopped to open the door or just kept walking.) Not my best work.
Luckily, the folks at Town Hall are fond of me, and even offered to write in the part of a shrieking, sheep-herding pirate, just for me. I graciously declined as I felt that it would diminish the integrity of the show.
Now, I've had bad auditions before (though never this bad), but I am pleased that I was able to find the humor in this one. Laughing at this experience has proven a far more effective way of dealing with a bad audition than my usual coping strategy. (Sitting alone in the dark listening to Laura Branigan albums.)

There you have it, folks. So, to you veteran and novice actors trying to calm your butterflies before your upcoming auditions, rest easy in the knowledge that, short of accidentally setting yourself, the director, and the accompanist on fire, you can not possibly screw up your audition worse than I did.

Burning the Ground I Break from the Crowd

I've been poring over the comments, messages, e-mails, etc. that I've been receiving over the last few days regarding the future of the blog. I even got a few phone calls and one person made a point of catching me out at the the PHAMALy concert.
Okay. The blog will continue.
Whether I'm facilitating a change or not, I still don't know, but it's obvious to me now (where it really wasn't before) that I'm making an impact.
If my motivations aren't really clear to everyone, then I guess I can live with that.
Somebody (I think it was Randy) called me the "voice" of Denver theatre. A couple of others called me its "watchdog." The one I liked most was "the Denver community theatre's conscience," but I think all of those titles are just a bit too lofty for someone like me.
I don't know what I am, really, but I'm here. Still.
And I'm watching.
And I'm not afraid to tell you what I see.

Will the Wolf Survive?

My followers on Twitter and my friends on Facebook have already heard me muse about the possibility of bringing an end to this blog, and, in spite of a chorus of "why?"s, "don't"s, and "no!"s, it is still very much a possibility.
I consider myself to be an advocate for Denver theatre. That is the main reason that I started this blog. Yes, I devote some space to local eateries, some to my favorite charities, but, really, this blog is about getting butts into seats for theatre. (I have to be honest when I say that I don't know how effective I have been at this.)
However, it has come to my attention over the last few months that I am not always - or even often - seen as an advocate.
When I am greeted at a show after-party by a reader of my blog who wants to know who I'm "going after next," and a friend refers to One Big Bad Wolf as my "bitchy blog," I begin to wonder if my occasional trips to the soapbox are giving people the wrong impression about what I'm trying to do.
This kind of hit home over the last couple of days when a few of my blog readers (knowing of my criticism of Vintage Theatre's decision to expand their 2010 season by about 30%) began sending me links to a couple of unfavorable reviews of Vintage's current production of Dial M for Murder. The links were accompanied by little notes, saying "Thought you might like this." or "You'll get a kick out of this."
In fact, someone closely involved with the production rather facetiously sent me links to both of the reviews with the subject line "Enjoy!"
Sorry, folks. Just because I don't agree with some of Vintage's recent choices doesn't mean I'm looking to see them fail. (Not that a couple of bad reviews constitute failure by any means.)
However, somewhere along the line I must have given you the impression that I would delight in the misfortunes of others in the theatre world with whom I take issue.
Not so. Like I always say, "we're all in this together."
That's why I speak up when I think Vintage is making a decision that I think will hurt them and, more importantly, hurt others in the community struggling for the same audience. That's why I raise my voice when I think that the non-profit theatre system is being misused by people who just want to create a 501c3 to direct a play they've written, or to direct a show they've always wanted to direct, or just put all of their closest friends on stage, or to do their version of a play that's already been done to death, or just because existing companies are monopolizing opportunities by always pulling from the same small pool of directors and actors for all of their productions.
I won't sit idly by while a theatre board that receives public funds keeps hiring themselves to direct the season's shows. No non-profit outside of the theatre realm would ever be allowed to engage in such corrupt behavior, and, if I am truly an advocate for Denver theatre, I won't let such corruption go on without shining a light on it if I can.
Putting caucasian children in bronze make-up, black wigs, and slant-eyed make-up to fill the coffers with a production of The King and I is deplorable behavior - especially in the 21st century. It's called "yellowface," and it's not as cute as you think it is. When the perpetrators of such blatant racism attempt to hide behind phrases like "But it's a classic" or "audiences want it," I feel that, as a proponent of quality theatre in our fair city, I should probably be telling them to blow it out their greedy, culturally-insensitive keisters. ("Amos and Andy" was a popular classic, too, you over-privileged morons.)

But I digress. The question with which I have been wrestling over the last couple of days is:

Can I continue to be a supporter of the wonder that is live theatre while refusing to accept the aforementioned atrocities as simply part-and-parcel of the animal that is community theatre?
Can I still be an advocate while also advocating change? At what point do I move from proponent to opponent - at least in the eyes of my readers?

The answer, as near as I can surmise thus far, is "I don't know."

Feel free to chime in. Frankly, I'm stuck.

Extra, Extra, Pinball Bonanza!

Tonight at La Rumba, 99 W. 9th Avenue in Denver:
Instant Party presents The Who's Tommy: The Rock Opera in concert, a special one-night only benefit for PHAMALy
featuring:
Donna Debreceni on keyboards/vocals
Mitch Jervis on guitars/vocals
Rick Thompson on bass/vocals
Larry Ziehl on drums
Dan Langhoff on vocals
Traci Kern on vocals

Doors open at 5:30 with DJ Tyler “Danger” Jacobson spinning some classic rock from "across the pond" including the music of The Who. Tommy starts at 7 pm.
After the concert, La Rumba transforms to the Lipgloss dance club and your Tommy admission includes the cover charge for Lipgloss.
Tickets are $10 General Admission at the door or $20 VIP seating at the door or in advance at 303-575-0005.
This is an over 21 event. IDs must be presented at the door.

This is going to rock!

Guid Eats: Argyll

As a direct descendant of famed poet Robert Burns and a member of the Clan Campbell, I tend to prick up my ears at all things Scottish.
So when I saw a tartan-backed ad for the fine gastropub Argyll in Cherry Creek, I made a note to drop in as soon as I could, and drop in I did this past Sunday for a bit of lunch with my mother.
Now I could go on about the friendly waitstaff or the attentive service or even recommend that, if weather permits, you should take advantage of the sunny patio, but I thin I'd best coorie up and tell you about the food.
From their brunch menu (over which I pondered quite a while - so many appetizing choices) I selected the Short Rib Hash: pulled short rib, Gruyere cheese, great northern white beans, potato & carrot hash with two poached eggs. Not your everyday pub food, now is it? That is the distinguishing factor of a gastropub: fine dining within a pub atmosphere (and at a pretty fair bargain as well).
And, did I like it? Well, you know how this works, friends. If I bother to write about it, I must have liked it a lot. In my opinion, Argyll is the stang o the trump.
The portions are large enough that my mother needed me to finish her entree: the award-winning Argyll MacCheese, mini-rigatoni with white cheddar béchamel, Yorkshire bacon, peas, truffled breadcrumbs, with langoustines (very small Norwegian lobsters).
I was fortunate enough to be able to sample two of the fine entrees from their brunch menu, but was left too full for dessert.
Ah, but keep the heid! my little cherubs, I will be going back. I can't wait to try their dinner menu, and I'm planning to save room for dessert the next time. If I enjoy dinner as much as I enjoyed brunch, you just might see me mention it again here.
Until next time, carry this bit of Scottish wisdom with you:
It's guid ti hae yir cog out whan it rains kail.

Too Much Theatre or No?

There is a new article in the Denver Post in which John Moore asks and attempts to answer this very question. I knew that this was in the works because John asked me a week or so ago if I would mind if he used some of my replies on his blog of a few weeks ago in the article.
I didn't know he was going to use my least insightful point, but, hey, I'm just glad that the question is being asked before a larger audience.
Now, I know that nobody likes to hear that there might be too much theatre in Denver. In fact, I encountered somebody last week who said, "I refuse to accept that." However, I think that we need to accept that it is at least a possibility.
I seem to miss as many shows as I see, and I see somewhere in the neighborhood of 60 shows per year. That's more than one per week, and that's a lot to ask of the average theatre-goer.
This blog originated out of the fact that a lot of very good theatre was playing to dismally small audiences in this town. Despite my efforts, as well as the efforts of Becca Fletcher, Gloria Shanstrom, John Moore, and others, that hasn't changed a whole heck of a lot.
Now, I will be the first to say that theatre is a necessary part of any community. I doubt that a single person in last night's sold-out audience for PHAMALy's Man of La Mancha would be able to recount a movie or television program that provided a more moving or transformative experience than witnessing Regan Linton's breathtaking performance as Aldonza. Paragon's incredible production of Harold Pinter's Old Times crawled inside my brain a few nights ago and has yet to release its hold.
Because of this inherent need for theatre, I think of it like feeding the hungry, except that some of these "hungry" don't know yet that they need to be fed. Blogs, reviews, word-of-mouth, and clever advertising help to stir appetites, but not enough to keep up with the massive amounts of food that are being produced. In many cases, the "food" being produced has nothing to do with feeding the hungry, it's more about wanting to show off what great cooks we are.
I'm not an economist, but I don't think being one would help me to believe that creating a surplus of anything helps to stimulate demand. This was the argument posited by the person who "refused to accept" that there could be too much theatre. It just doesn't work that way.
Another argument being made is that companies are producing more theatre to "provide more opportunities" for actors, designers, and directors. If that is so, then why are 8 out of the 16 upcoming shows which include Vintage Theatre's expanded 2010 season being directed by only two directors? As of August 10th, it was reported that there were 180 actors signed up for Vintage Theatre's season auditions for the twelve shows that will be presented in 2010. We will have to wait and see how many of those actors will be provided the "opportunity" to perform on stage, or if we will be seeing the same few faces over and over again as is the trend in a number of other companies. For me, the argument just doesn't hold water.
I don't mean to pick on Vintage. I just happened to have these facts about them before me, and, let's not forget, they did decide to put more "soup on the stove," before any more "hungry" walked in.
To some degree, I will admit that every theatre production is a vanity project. It's the nature of what we do. I'm just worried that vanity may be overtaking reason here, and I'm not sure what it's going to cost all of us in the process. Or rather, what more it's going to cost us.