Here are a few mid-run comments:
• The unusual structure of the piece holds up, in spite of (or because of) the fact that it doesn't faithfully track the formulaic template of what we expect from a "musical". Certainly, it pays homage to the "two couples" blueprint of classical opera and musicals (a "serious" couple contrasts with a "comic" couple), but colors it by making one romantic and one platonic. Opening with four solos, each character establishing themselves with a bit of exposition and a point-of-view, then the "story" starts with the fifth number; a series of amusing scenes are followed by an unexpectedly heartfelt confession; two more comic interactions are separated by funny duet that suddenly escalates our investment; an almost operatic solo that briefly turns into a quartet leading to a existential crisis for all four characters, which is resolved through theatrical metaphor (again using all four voices); a penultimate reveal that bares heart and soul (another nod to conventional Broadway, the so-called "11 o'clock number"); and a seemingly simple coda that caps off our journey with a quiet sense of satisfaction. Composer/lyricist Adam Gwon skillfully moves back-and-forth between expected conventions and his own way of musical storytelling, rooting us in the known but pushing us into the unknown just enough to both comfort and thrill. I look forward to see where his talents and skills are going to take him in his future work.
Keri, Max, Jill Anna, and Doug |
• Directorially, I want these characters to have tiny moments of triumph as they attempt to connect, and where possible, we've provided opportunities for Claire to be in Jason's otherwise solo scenes, reiterating the solid basis of their love, so when that love is later threatened, we care. Deb and Warren's friendship gets off to a rocky start, but because of the warmth that the performers bring to the roles, we are rooting for them to connect, which happens, literally, in the last few seconds of the show. Again, Adam's score supports all these efforts, and he has given freedom to those in the actual rehearsal room to "make it work" -- a generous gesture, indeed!
• The physical production fills the space beautifully; Victoria's set is both massive and yet not out-of-scale in our small space. We wanted to evoke "the city" while avoiding the cliched image of a skyline. We took our cue from the character's efforts to impose order upon their chaotic lives, and found our metaphor in the street-map of urban traffic patterns, creating a grid structure that repeats on all vertical surfaces. It's complement is the idea of transparency, alluding to the characters' efforts to reveal themselves, as well as look into each other's souls; hence, aluminum screens and blue cellophane (through which we can softly see backstage crossovers and Mindy at the piano), and a series of windows with nearly-abstract images of repose.
• Given where my own aesthetic evolution has taken me over the years, this production feels like a great example of the Nautilus aesthetic -- telling stories through music, favoring emotional realism over theatrical naturalism, and creating a performance space in which the story is told, rather than a place where the story is happening. Costumes and hand props are "real"; the environment resonates with the themes of the piece, but requires the audience to invest in "fleshing out" what would be naturalistic details in a movie or a more conventional presentation.
Of course, there are adjustments that could be (and in some instances, will be) made, and all of us are learning more about what it means to tell a musical story in a tiny space, where the audience is a few feet away. But all in all, this production of ORDINARY DAYS feels like a great example of how chamber musicals and opera can provide an intimate and emotional charged experience. I'm proud of the work that my colleagues have done on this production!