Introducing...Showgirl!
Introducing...Showgirl!
A new essay series starring moi. Plus, The Golden Bachelorette and more.
I don’t think anyone who knows me well would consider me a shy person. But I get nervous—especially when I’m put on the spot. My palms get wet. My cheeks turn pink. Classic pre-date, pre-job interview, pre-perform-in-front-of-strangers stuff.
Still, I was surprised to be so nervous on the first day of rehearsals for The Music Man. This wasn’t Broadway. We were in suburban Long Island where dues for the production cost a mere $15—the price of gummy bears at most theaters in Times Square. And yet, as our blond-haired, Irish Catholic director (who knows how to mix both French and Yiddish into a sentence because it’s the theater-dahhling) introduced herself and the crew, I felt myself get both giddy and skittish.
Following auditions in June, after which I didn’t get called back for any parts, but was asked to be in the ensemble, I let the idea of participating in the show merely exist as a hypothetical in the back of my mind. I was still actively on the hunt for a full-time job and, in some cases, getting pretty far along in the interview process. If I were working in Manhattan, or elsewhere, come September, how would I make it back to Long Island for 6:30 pm rehearsals? And would I even want to? I didn’t have a part. Surely my presence wouldn’t matter much anyway. Plus, to be honest, The Music Man is not one of my favorite shows. “76 Trombones” is a rollicking number, but ask me how much I loved playing the clarinet in elementary school. (Spoiler: I didn’t.)
And yet, September came around and a full-time job didn’t so I decided to attend the “welcome and read-through.” The cast were dotted about the auditorium when I arrived; each of them holding the libretto. I’d never heard the script called that before, but what do I know? My connection to the theater is mostly tied to my being cast in the supporting role of Ado Annie in Oklahoma circa the late 80s, followed by countless visits to the Great White Way thanks, in part, to my Grandpa Harry and “almost-grandmother” Rosalie. They attended shows regularly, generously bought our family tickets often, and instilled within me a love for all things dramatic and musical. I’m very proud of my Playbill collection and, especially, my Bat Mitzvah theme. Though, I do wish I’d prepared more for my post-torah-portion performance of “One” from A Chorus Line during the reception. There was a lot of useless kicking and I’d prematurely traded my beaded shoes for slouch socks by the time they cued music.
Back to The Music Man. After checking in with one of the producers, many of which have participated in guild productions for decades, I was handed a libretto where I saw my name written on its first page. It was in pencil, which meant I could erase it and give it back at any time; no trace left behind should I rather have cold feet than break a leg. But it was then that I realized I wanted to do this. I felt a part of something. They even spelled my name right.
I took a seat and tried my hardest to pay attention as the director zig-zagged around the auditorium, encouraging people to stand up when it was their turn to introduce themselves. Some people projected loudly, while others merely whispered forcing some to shout: “Louder!” I was too nervous to remember much, but I do recall a woman named “Cha Cha” and the fact that our Harold Hill—the lead part, aka The Music Man—is also the town Deli Man. Slices brisket and reheats knishes! How about that?
Finally, it was my turn. In addition to stating our names, parts, and how long we’ve been affiliated with the guild, we were also told to share a “fun fact.” I’m not sure if it’s considered “fun” but my agency is—and likely will be for a long time—that I lived in Paris for nearly 10 years so I went with that. Rather than express the confidence I felt inside for possessing such a “fun fact,” I just about eeked it out of my diaphragm; my voice shaky as I stood up, dropping my metal water bottle in the process, which produced a loud and awkward clang as it began to roll through the rows of the auditorium.
How on earth did I think I could perform on a stage in front of strangers?
Thankfully, we were onto the next person before I could sit down. The group probably ranged from 8 to about 80, with a good chunk of us in the middle. Grey bobs and long hair held back with headbands. Dog tags featuring Hebrew and subtle silver crosses. Jibit-covered crocs and worn-in New Balances. It was still too early to tell how many of us—dare I say it!—middle-aged cast members were also attached to (and only participating because of) their kids, but I’d bet about half.
After introductions, we did a read-through, which is exactly what it sounds like. Those of us without speaking parts (that’d be me!) didn’t have to stay, but most of us did to show support, and, you know, familiarize ourselves with the storyline we’re about to perform in just over two months. I, for one, didn’t remember much beyond the scenes I’d watched quickly before auditions, but here’s the tl;dr for those who don’t know: It’s 1912, and a man named Harold Hill shows up in the fictional Iowa town of River City to take advantage of its fine citizens by selling them instruments he doesn’t know how to play, falls in love with the town’s librarian whose kid brother happens to have a lisp until, somehow, Hill manages to teach him how to perform and speak with confidence. Or something like that.
Without song and dance numbers and costume and set changes, I was surprised to discover how short musicals are, and before long we were hooting and hollering in anticipation of actually performing the story on an elementary school stage in the weeks to come.
So there you have it. Just call me Sara the Showgirl from now on. Further chronicles of my experience in the ensemble of this local theater production will live in the SHOWGIRL section of my Substack page and be sent to paid subscribers through the end of our short fall run. I hope you’ll consider becoming one of them if you’re not already. Bon week-end, all! xx — Sara
Clickable
Saying farewell to an old friend: a tree. | The NY Times
If, like me, you were unaware of Boo Baskets. Consider yourself informed. Also, fall and its vibes are the great equalizer. | The Cut
Girl, you know it’s true: Milli Vanilli is…back?! | Rolling Stone
Master of prose, author Ann Patchett, regrets email. | The NY Times
Greetings from…New Jersey? | Curbed
Why Elizabeth Gilbert “stopped chasing pretty.” | Oprah Daily
Watchable
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If you need some feel-good TV, I highly recommend the new franchise of The Bachelor, which is in its, ahem, senior era. Or, I should say, Golden era. It began last fall with The Golden Bachelor, where a 71-year-old from Indiana named Gerry (pronounced Jerry) found love with Theresa—and then pretty quickly lost it after a televised wedding. Now, one of the early frontrunners from that show, Joan, has become the new Golden Bachelorette. Unlike its younger siblings (The Bachelor and The Bachelorette), which see twenty and thirty-somethings vying not only for love but attention and fame, this series has far fewer catfights and way more wholesome tears and bear hugs as you’ll see from this clip following one of the rose ceremonies. It seems what goes on in the mansion among fellow contestants is more endearing than what any of them hoped to find in the bedroom.
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HT
who linked to this TikTok of yet another person doing something ridiculous for the sake of clicks. (Right? Or is shucking oysters and chopping up a mignonette on the hood of a kayak standard operating procedure nowadays?) Either way, it does seem like a pretty lush place to slurp some shellfish.Currently overthinking…
…all that goes in (or, rather, doesn’t) to a colonoscopy prep…
Souvenir: Tales from the Crypt
Spooky season is upon us, which reminded me of the HBO series, Tales from the Crypt, which I did not watch but still managed to seep into my brain courtesy of some very eerie trailers. Who can forget the puppeteer Cryptkeeper without a nose who rose from his slime-covered coffin to sit in an upright armchair while cracking jokes and interviewing special guest stars? They ranged in fame and notoriety from Demi Moore and Slash to Whoopi Goldberg and Kathy Ireland. Did you watch it?