“Do you accept the nomination?”
“Sure,” I then watched her turn to the person next to her. I couldn’t hear what she said, but I have good lip-reading skills. And what I saw was, “What did I get elected to do?”
“Any other nominations?” McCartan asked.
“Move to close nominations,” a male voice said from the other side of the auditorium. I couldn’t see who said it.
“Seconded,” another voice rang out.
“It’s been moved and seconded to close nominations for the position of Equity Deputy. All in favor, say ‘aye.’” A loud chorus of “ayes” rang out. “Nays?” McCartan paused for a moment to make sure no one wanted to speak up. “Hearing no nays, the ayes have it. Congratulations, Mrs. McKenna, on your election to the company’s Equity Deputy. With that done, I have nothing else for you this morning. If there are any concerns about the show, the production team, your safety, etc…, please contact Ms. McKenna. She’ll pass them on to Actors’ Equity directly. Thank you for your time this morning. I wish all of you a great rehearsal period. I look forward to congratulating you all on opening night.”
With that, McCartan packed away his materials. When McCartan left the theater, the lights went out and the curtain rose, showing a square set of tables and chairs. The creative team was already sitting on stage. Part of me wondered how long they had been listening to the Equity discussion in the theater.
“As I call out your name,” San Nicolás, the show’s director, started, “please come join us on stage. Caiden Wynter Jeanes.”
A young guy wearing skinny jeans approached the stage. I knew he looked familiar, but I couldn’t place my finger on it. “Who is he?” I whispered to Katherine.
“He played a teenage vampire onDerek’s Destinyfor four seasons before the show was canceled.”
“Erika Lynsay Saunders,” the director called.
I grabbed my coat and bag and headed toward the stage. When I got there, San Nicolás extended his hand and introduced himself to me again, as if I somehow had forgotten he was the director in the last five days. He motioned for me to join the others on stage, where I found my name on a nameplate along with my preferred pronouns. Unfortunately, my back was to the audience, so I couldn’t see anyone else. Thankfully, there were only ten people in the cast’s core. There was an ensemble, but we were told they were rehearsing choreography with Divya Kappel. One by one, all the main cast members walked their way to the stage.
I looked at everyone and their cardboard name tags. This approach was handy for helping me learn people’s names and faces, so I was very much in favor of it. When the last name was called, “Tabatha Sharlene Thomson,” San Nicolás rejoined the group, and our first day of rehearsal began in earnest.
“Welkom,bienvenido,tere tulemast,dobrodošli,willkommen,benvenuto, witamy, ????? ??????????, ????????, and welcome.”
Did he welcome us in eleven different languages?Yep. He stared at us, waiting for a reaction. Who did he think he was, the emcee fromCabaret?Thankfully, I wasn’t the only one who sat there for a heartbeat, not reacting. Finally, Maeve McKenna started a polite golf clap, so the rest of us joined in as San Nicolás took a slight bow.
“Buenos días,guten Morgen,buongiorno,sobh bekheir,zaoan,ohayo,malo tau ma’u e pongipongi ni, and good morning.”
Please don’t let every phrase that comes out of his mouth come with 100 different translations. We’ll be here all day to finish one sentence.
San Nicolás paused for a second before continuing, “We are gathered on the unceded land of the Lenape of the Delaware peoples. I ask you to join me in acknowledging the Lenape community, their elders both past and present, as well as future generations. The creative team, the people who work for the theater, and the cast and crew want to acknowledge that this theater was founded upon exclusions and erasures of many indigenous peoples, including those on whose land this building is located. This acknowledgment demonstrates a commitment to beginning the process of working to dismantle the ongoing legacies of White settler colonialism.
“We want to recognize that in May 1626, the Dutch West India Company representative, Peter Minuit, purchased this land from the native peoples. The exact valuation of the sixty guilders is not known to us today. But, the price bartered for the island was undervalued. Essentially, the White colonialists bought the island for useless trinkets from members of either the Canarsees, who really didn’t live on Manhattan, or maybe it was bought from the Weckquaesgeeks, who lived north of the Dutch on the island itself. Either way, the settlers bought the island from a group of indigenous people who did not know what they were bartering for because of cultural differences. I want to say ‘woapanacheen’or good morning in the native Lenape tongue as a final welcome as we start this journey together.”
We all sat there unsure of the appropriate reaction, so most of us bowed our heads like we were in church. Personally, I liked acknowledging the land where we stood, but I wasn’t sure if the land acknowledgment was appropriate since someone from another country gave it. I want to be culturally sensitive, but sometimes, I find it hard to know what to say or not say in situations like these. Instead, I try to be reverent and nod along.
“Aarya,” San Nicolás called out. I looked over and watched as the nonbinary intern jumped to attention. “Please hand out the binders.”
Immediately, Aarya started handing out binders that contained copies of the script and score. When she brought me mine, the cover had my name on it along with the phrasepart formerly calledMichael O’Brien. I’d already heard from Brice that the exact name of my role hadn’t been decided upon, so I wasn’t too surprised that there was still a giant question mark there.
Once everyone had their binders in hand, San Nicolás clapped his hand twice to get the room to be quiet. “I want you all to open the second divider tab in the binder. You’ll find the complete script for the original movie. We wanted to read the script as a group today to get us into the piece’s spirit. Over the next week, this material will evolve as we mature and evolve with it.”
I looked at the puzzled eyes of others around the table as I flipped open my binder. Clearly, no one was quite sure what to make of this guy. He seemed more like a new age guru than a Broadway director. Admittedly, he’d never directed anything on Broadway, but I didn’t think his style was typical on the West End either.
“Let us begin,” San Nicolás said. “Before any dialogue, there will be a new song called ‘Christmas in New York.’”
Eugenius Moses, the composer, started playing the piano. The song was upbeat and extolled the virtues of wintery holidays in NYC. The lyricist, Tyreek MacQueen, stood next to the piano and sang the lyrics to aid Moses in the song. Immediately, I found the lyrics catchy but trite. Not horrible for a Christmas musical, but I hoped the music was tightened as we went along.
As the song ended, San Nicolás read, “Lights up on the interior of a Manhattan office building. Workers scatter around going in and out of cubicles.” He then nodded toward Peeter Gaspari, who started reading, “Regarding article 47…” I followed along in my script as the first scene played out.
While Peeter read his line, I noticed that my entrance came next. I took a breath. “Put them—“
“In walks Michael carrying a handful of colorfully wrapped Christmas presents.” I waited for a beat, and San Nicolás nodded toward me.
“Put them down anywhere, Martin—“
