July
17, 2005
It
looked like Thursday night's show was going to be it for me. One show, thunderous
applause, and back to obscurity. But on Friday afternoon I found out (again,
right at dinnertime) that the guy I was covering was still out, and I would
be doing that evening's performance and the matinee on the following
afternoon.
So the cramming process started all over again, only this time they changed the show! A piece between John and Stuart Sutcliffe was cut, and so was a song (Oh My Love). So several lines and cues were changed along with the cuts. On top of that I had a new set of touch-up notes given to me by the production stage manager, assistant stage manager, assistant choreographer, a couple of cast members, and the director. I remembered and executed every single instruction and script change...and forgot nearly everything else! In one particularly embarrassing moment, I left a clothes rack onstage that I was supposed to roll off, and it stayed there for twelve seconds before I finally moved it (after the prop manager offstage got my attention) and made it back to my spot in time to deliver my line. I feared that with that one error I had dashed all the good will bestowed upon me the previous night. But my experience reminds me that what is remembered is not the mistakes you make, but how you recover. And I recovered well from all of them, most of which were noticed only by me. I was tougher on me than anyone else by a long shot. A swing with no rehearsal and, like me, no experience, isn't supposed to put on a perfect show, just to get through the gig and hold their own without dragging it down. I did much more than that. I surprised a lot of people who didn't know what to expect.
One of those surprised was Yoko, who had attended Friday night's show. I met her afterwards and she told me as much. Don told me that night that she leaned in and whispered to him, "He's fantastic!"
I'm gushing, I know. I worked hard for this.
The euphoria was short lived. I was too hung up on the job details. I knew that what I was enjoying now was a short ride that probably wouldn't come again for a while, so I really wanted to make each show technically better than the one before it. But I took too much on and got a bit clumsy. The third and final show was about on par with the others; not perfect but nothing embarrassing, and very well received. But the dream was over, at least for now.
After Saturday's matinee I took a dozen roses that Marcy gave me up to Strawberry Fields in Central Park, and spread them out over the IMAGINE mosaic. Then I went back to the Broadhurst for the evening performance and took a seat out in the house to watch the original Lennon lineup reunited.