Reflections on The Bitch
Now that we are in the final week of The Mikado, it is time to cast aspersions upon the bitch goddess that drives us to seek ego gratification through the medium of live theatre. The rewards are better than any drug. What we have to endure to achieve those rewards makes us question why we subject ourselves to the process.
The good news is that this production is the first in the 75 year history of the Bellingham Theatre Guild to sell out from preview to the end. The bad news is that we have had to endure an enormous amount of turmoil to get there.
As I have mentioned in previous posts, double casting is a recipe for disaster. Our two Yum-Yums seemed to have achieved some accord as to who was to play the lead role at what times. The schedule was set and that, theoretically, was that.
Unfortunately, one of our Yum-Yums has operatic aspirations. She seems to have succumbed to the idea that in order to succeed, you have to take on the mantle of prima donna.
Last week, she invited her vocal coach to attend despite the fact that she was not scheduled to perform the lead role that evening. Ms. Opera Star claimed that she had worked out an agreement with her opposite that she would be the star that night. It turned out that there was no such agreement.
So we, the rest of the cast, were treated to a catfight of monumental proportions. The actor who was scheduled to perform had invited many family members. Ms. Opera Star threw a fit worthy of Maria Callas. This, of course, should have been dealt with in private. Instead, the drama played out before a bewildered cast.
The director, who should have known better, chose to settle the dispute in public. Thus we went onstage with frayed nerves, not knowing how the battle ended. The Opera Star was overruled, but the repercussions were devastating.
With that one exception, this is a remarkably cohesive cast. One prima donna nearly destroyed the production. Emotional turmoil can be devastating to an otherwise sterling production.
Most of us, for better or worse, have endured such unbridled egotism before. Indeed, we are all egotists. It is a prerequisite for theatrical performers. We know the syndrome and we know that we have to get over it.
As the eminence grise of the cast, I tend to be the father confessor. This is not always a comfortable role in a theatrical performance, but it is what I spent many years in school training for. I am a priest and a registered counselor. Therefore, I am supposed to assume the burdens of a theatrical family that has one dysfunctional member.
Ms. Opera Star confessed to me that she realized the entire cast was jealous of her talents. She knew that everyone hated her for her gifts and that we, as a group, spent our offstage time critiquing her performance. Sigh.
The poor girl obviously has no real grasp of theatre. Actors do not talk about other actor’s performances. We talk about ourselves. We are unreconstructed egotists and have no interest in whatever does not directly concern our wonderful selves.
Ms. Opera Star had made it clear from the beginning that she was not bound by the rules that we ordinary mortals had to observe. The cast call is at 6:30. That gives us time to put on makeup, deal with costumes, do vocal warm-ups.
She never participated in any of these group activities. Instead, she came in at 15 minutes before curtain, did her own vocal exercises, and acted like the rest of us were rank amateurs.
Then, she had the nerve to complain that the cast hated her. Well, that perception was accurate. Professional actors despise those who think they are somehow above the rules. Ms. Opera Star wondered why she was so thoroughly detested. As a professional therapist, I can state unequivocally that it is because she didn’t have a clue.
The ego that drives actors is often destructive. Those of us who have been doing it for years have come to an accommodation with that drive. Those who cannot deal with it are doomed to failure.
Ms. Opera Star, like most prima donnas, kept insisting that she was behaving professionally. That usually indicates that the person advocating professional behavior is behaving like a two-year-old.
The good news is that the orchestra is being conducted this week by our vocal coach. He is far more qualified than the lame ass high school band director we have had to endure for most of the run. Suddenly, the tempos are right on and we don’t have to worry about whether the orchestra will be there when it is supposed to.
The difference is amazing. The orchestra suddenly sounds professional. Those of us who have singing roles find that we can do our thing without worrying about the erratic tempos the other conductor brought to the production.
Alas, the former conductor will be back Saturday night and we will once more have to guess at the tempos.
But the bottom line is that we sold out the house from preview to final performance. That has never happened in the 75 year history of the Bellingham Theatre Guild. I like to think that I was part of that. But I am an actor. You should never trust the perceptions of an actor.
3:09:45 AM 
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