“Lachtna,” a voice called from another part of the stage.
“Duty calls. Talk to you soon, Erika,” he walked away, and I admired that profile as much as I had the front one.
We got through the show twice before lunch and reran Act One after lunch to clean up a few things. By the end of the day, I’d gotten my run backstage down to 45 seconds, which should make the costume change more manageable. Of course, we still had to see what the costume designer came up with.
Those of us who were going to be performing at Macy’s were sent back to the smaller theater, where we rehearsed that version of the opening number.
“Attencion,“ Divya Kappel, the choreographer, said as she clapped her hands. “Let’s run the number with the recording.”
I got to my starting position and we ran the number. Everything was going well when Kappel stopped the music and made a few adjustments. “Remember to find your camera. This is a televised performance, so you must look into the camera. Do not look to the mezzanine. Again!”
We got through it before breaking for dinner. We had to be back by 8:00 p.m., because the Macy’s people were having rehearsal on Monday this year. That way, the parade people could figure out the timing and make any adjustments necessary. I ran home, ate, fed Bootsy, and returned to the theater by 8:00. We were all given sweatshirts and ballcaps with the show’s logo for this trip. Honestly, beyond seeing it on a script binder, I hadn’t seen the logo yet. It was colorful and cheerful looking. It had a classy look, while still looking appropriate for Christmas.
Only about twenty of the cast members were in this number. Of the main cast, only the elves were in the opening number, so none of the other principles were there. “Whoa,” I said, stepping off the bus as a blast of frozen air barreled into me. In my parka, gloves, and face mask, the night air was freezing. A Macy’s employee met the bus and took us to our staging area, where we were told to wait. The group huddled together for warmth. The vapor from our mouths intermixed in a fog. Even though it was crazy cold and late at night, there were still a bunch of tourists out to watch the rehearsal.
When it was our turn, a different Macy’s employee came and got our group and led us to the famous green-painted rectangle in front of Macy’s Herald Square entrance.
“Next up is the company ofThe Naughty List. Please listen to the assistant director. He will walk you through some basic instructions,“ some official-looking woman said before handing us off to a less official-looking guy.
“Hi, I’m Doug. I’m the assistant director in charge of the Broadway segments.” He then ran through a series of explanations about where to focus and what to do. “Remember, this is live television. Once the music ends, you have seconds to get into a group in the middle and wave at the camera. We will then cut to a commercial break, and you will be directed to a staging location and taken to where your bus is located.”
We then spent thirty minutes working with Doug as they planned out camera angles and how our two-minute and thirty-second version of the opening number was trimmed down from eight. Admittedly, the dialogue in the song’s middle wasn’t necessary for the parade. The shorter cut made the song more like a Christmas anthem, which could prove great for ticket sales. Nothing puts butts in seats like a good showing at the parade. Broadway shows get the Tony Awards in the summer and the Macy’s Thanksgiving Parade in November to sell themselves and their shows to America and the world.
“In five, four, three…” there was a beat of silence, and the assistant director pointed at the group. We heard the music piped over the speakers, and we started mouthing along with the words. I missed one of my steps and almost ran over Katherine, but she saw me coming and got out of the way, preventing an elf pileup. One guy in the chorus usually slid across the stage, and he almost bit the dust because asphalt does not allow one’s shoes to slide. Thankfully, he caught himself at the last second and didn’t injure himself. Then our time was up, and the director yelled, “Reset!”
We went back to our places. The director conversed with the guys who were operating the cameras. The assistant director returned to his chair, got comfortable, and started his countdown again. This time, everything went as smoothly as could be expected. When we finished, we all raced together and waved at the camera that would be there Thursday morning.
“Okay, thanks cast of,” the director peeked down at his clipboard before continuing, “The Naughty List. We’ll see you Thursday morning.”
We then piled back on the bus, which took us back to the theater. It was now a little after midnight, so I walked home and passed out on my bed before taking off my shoes.
That night, I slept like a baby. Unfortunately, my hamstrings were killing me the following day.Maybe I needed to spend more time on a stair climber than on a treadmill. I dragged my body out of bed. I’d forgone the gym. I figured between choreography and running up and down stairs, my body could take a day off from the treadmill. Instead, I got up, threw on a yoga video I owned, and stretched myself out. If the role continued to be this strenuous, yoga would quickly become my go-to exercise to ensure I didn’t get too tight. I worked hard so my body was strong but flexible to endure an eight-show week once we opened.
The company was back on stage running the show at 9:00 a.m. I started the morning in a half-daze, which showed as soon as I started doing the Thanksgiving choreography instead of the show choreography. Thankfully, Peeter grabbed my arm and dragged me out of the way as a set piece moved on stage.
“That was close,” I said when I exited stage right for a second.
“I was only watching out for you because I was afraid it would be me.”
We then lined up for our next entrance. We entered stage right with this hobble, wobble dance move Kappel said looked cheerful. Katherine said it made us all look constipated. But we smiled and sold it to the mezzanine. Everything sailed along after that. The three elves got through our first book scene, followed by Peeter’s big number, “Christmas, Nothing but a Merchants Holiday.” Peeter is the cynical elf who thinks all of NYC should be placed permanently on Santa’s naughty list. The song is funny, but it packs a punch with a political statement against consumerism, capitalism, and the demise of the Christmas spirit. That led to my character coming up with a grand idea to test how cynical people in NYC are today. Tinsel Hollicane—I still hated the name—comes up with the idea to leave three brand-new wallets in Times Square, each with $1000 in cash. I’m like, we’ll include a business card. Let’s see if people bring them back. But hey, we’re elves, so we can watch what happens through the power of Christmas magic—no logic necessary. Of course, I have to explain all this in a horribly titled song, “Confusion to our Critics and Merry Christmas.”
My wallet is picked up by Billy James, a Texas bloke and wannabe country singer, played by Caiden Wynter Jeanes. Jeanes had that wide-eyed innocent youthful look everyone associates with a fish out of water. And a kid from a ranch out in West Texas spending Christmas in the city was about as fish out of water as someone could get.
Katherine’s wallet is picked up by Coleen Lawrence, a New York City schoolteacher who works with special needs children. The character worked with orphans in the movie, but special needs kids seemed a decent alternative for modern sensibilities. Tabatha Thomson played the role, and honestly, I didn’t know anything about her. She was young, doe-eyed, and reminded me of myself when I first came to the city. Unlike me, she was lucky enough to land a role in a new musical right after she graduated college, so the 21-year-old matched the innocence of her leading man.
Lastly, Peeter’s wallet is found by Kerrie Klark’s character, Arlene Terry-Ball, who is supposed to be a jaded Tony Award-winning actor a bit past her prime. Klark, in reality, was in her early forties, but she pulled off looking at least five years older, giving herself the extra edginess of someone who has been there and seen it all. Anytime she came on stage, she demanded attention. Something in the intersectionality of her half-Puerto Rican, half-Black and 100 percent lesbian self, made her ridiculously gorgeous, charismatic and unattainable. She picked up the wallet, grabbed the cash, and tossed the billfold into the trashcan. If sold right, the audience would think what she did was wrong. But they’d also think they probably would have done the same thing. She pulled off this scene belting the comical number, “Heart of Gold with Other People’s Money.” Even as I watched her from the wings, I marveled at her comic timing and ability to milk the song of every laugh.
After this sequence, the three elves are in a New York high-rise, waiting to see if the wallets return. Admittedly, there was a bit of a logic gap here. Why exactly do elves own a high-rise in Manhattan? How could they afford it? And why did they all live together? These were pesky little questions that were never answered by the story. I was curious to see if a paying audience would go along with this and suspend belief. Heck, we were singing and dancing elves. What was a little more disbelief on top of that?
The penthouse set was gorgeous, even if it looked like no apartment I’d ever seen. Maybe Daddy Warbucks could afford this place, but the grand dame of this house was a retired elf (who guessed they retired?) named Madam Tanya Winterville, which was played by Maeve McKenna. Honestly, the way she descended the staircase reminded me of a cross between Glenn Close inSunset Boulevardand Angela Lansbury inMame. McKenna had a regalness to her that made me think she should be starring in a revival ofThe Pirate Queen.
Standing off stage left, Peeter joked, “She looks like Jack Frost’s third wife. He got the North Pole, and she took Manhattan.”
The orchestra played as she descended. Once she hit the bottom staircase, Josef the Butler, played by our only international cast member, Kishor Khatri, informed her that we, the elves, had called and were on our way up. Khatri quickly matched McKenna’s poise and sense of regality. Heck, maybe he was Jack Frost’s fourth spouse. Who knows? I learned to take things as they were written and avoid a bunch of unnecessary backstories. Some people want backstory for everything on stage, not me. Sometimes that extra information isn’t necessary. Sometimes it’s necessary to understand how a character got to a specific place in life. But most of the time, it was extraneous and didn’t always help move the story along.
“Very well, Josef. Prepare the dining room. I have a feeling we’ll be having company,” McKenna’s character says, which was our cue to enter from stage left.
There was some witty banter on stage, which we all delivered to get laughs. Then there was a doorbell. We didn’t have the sound cues yet, so Serafina Porcher, the stage manager, yelled “Ding Dong” from her seat next to San Nicolás in the house. I liked Serafina. By the time this show opened, she would know more about the show than any other person in the building. I always marveled at how stage managers kept everything going like clockwork. Talk about a masterclass in multitasking.
