Reminiscings from a Cow in the Woods

I recently wrapped performing in a local production of Stephen Sondheim and James Lapine's Into the Woods, the Tony-winning 1987 musical. To say that my participation in the show was a truly special experience would be an gargantuan understatement. To be honest with you, I'm really missing my time in the woods. I'm under the belief that we should share our positive experiences in this day and age. So, I'm going to tell you why partaking in the show was such an absolutely joyful experience. It feels like the right thing to do now.

First of all, I loved my role. When first auditioning for the piece, I told my titanically talented directors that I'd "even play the cow". Lo and behold, I wound up portraying Milky White, who's currently my favourite role I've ever inhabited. Retrospectively, I guess you could say that the audition was a cattle call.

The role was 1 of 4 magical objects and technically a form of drag. As somebody with a fondness for the art of puppetry, it was thrilling getting to puppeteer a walkaround puppet. The costume consisted of a custom made, screwed on, mascot-type cranium and a customized set of strapped upon me, wheeled around, ironing board-like back legs (complete with an utter/tail). Both of which were beautifully crafted works of art created by our director. Yours truly actually managed to assist in completing the illusion by contributing white pants, hoofy shoes and black socks.

Needless to say, maneuvering Milky White was challenging. However, bringing her to life was incredibly fulfilling, too. Learning how to act without the aid of facial expressions, be in the moment as an animal, supplying a "moo" and using body movement to convey the character's emotions were cool experiences. The process of portraying a cow was good for my calves, too.

Even though I freaked out a few times, I got used to being in costume. What I wanted to do with the character registered and matched the directors' vision. In spite of the physical demands, itches, stuffiness and impeded vision, it was fun playing Milky White. It's weird, though. As I said to a friend in the cast, I can't drive a car but can steer a cow. Go figure. Anyhow, I'm glad that Milky White wasn't portrayed by a plastic statue like she was in the first Broadway production.

Performing in the show had all sorts of perks and benefits. The venue had sentimental value. I partook in my passion and had things to be excited about. Apart from being billed as "Greg K. Morris", a stage name I'd been wanting to implement for years, I had a snazzy, faithful to character headshot complete with a bio in the playbill. My bow with other character performers revealed who puppeteered the cow. Aside from being distributed by my hometown's rotary club, the show was mounted in collaboration with a locally founded theatre company. Over the years, I've carved out a reputation as its biggest supporter. Debuting with it was a dream come true.

Milky White had a sizable amount of time in the story. Despite having 4 left hooves, I actually was actually seen in the act I and II finales, which featured spirited choreography by our assistant director. This meant that I got to share scenes with pretty much the whole cast, which was an utter blessing. Backstage, I had an awesome "cow wrangler" who provided majorly invaluable help and essentially kept me alive during performances.

Milky White was the subject of a shining moment--Her death scene (thankfully, she came back later on with a Jesus ark). Thanks to its staging and mechanics perfected by puppet training supplied by our assistant director, it was a memorable part of the show. You see, Milky White's back legs were held up with discreet, wicker sticks. They were hooked onto nails and, in turn, kept in place with elastics.

Said elastics were already removed when the Mysterious Man hands Milky White off to the Baker, so I'd be holding the legs in place with my arms (which were concealed by Milky White's neck). During It Takes Two, one heck of a song sequence, I would unhook Milky White's legs. Afterwards, I'd turn horizontally and plop down with the sticks in my hands (wearing hidden knee pads, of course! Safety first). This caused the legs to collapse. I'd writhe in agony then play dead. The effect was pretty neat. Surprisingly, audiences responded to this part with laughs and applause. This meant a lot.

Another highlight of the experience was a l'il side project I had going on--Songs for My Cohorts. You must understand that I had the utmost fortune of collaborating with a bunch of highly skillful folks, real versatile. Being the geek I am, I'd think of songs my co-stars could sing and recommend them via notes. Our directors even got in on the act. Doing so was good for morale. The process was also enjoyable. I loved brainstorming and scouring for melodies collaborators would perform well. There was an element of surprise 'cause they never knew what I had up my sleeve.

Something else I liked about giving out songs was sharing the great talents attached to them. They received material written by Sondheim himself (including the show's infamous, removed Second Midnight sequence), Oscar Hammerstein II, Jerome Kern, Richard Rodgers, Lorenz Hart, Sheldon Harnick, Jerry Bock, John Kander, Fred Ebb, Alan Jay Lerner, Frederick Loewe, Kurt Weill, Bertolt Brecht, Jule Styne, Leonard Bernstein, Cy Coleman, Carolyn Leigh, Emily Comden, Adolph Green, Dorothy Fields, Jerry Herman, Stephen Schwartz, Charles Strouse, Lee Adams, Martin Charnin, the Sherman Brothers, Dolly Parton, Ted Geisel (a.k.a. Dr. Seuss), Albert Hague, Joe Raposo, Cole Porter, Lionel Bart, E.Y. "Yip" Harburg, Harold Arlen, Maury Laws, Jules Bass, Charles Fox, Mel Brooks, Irving Berlin and, most notably, a cornucopia of Bob Merrill compositions.

Peers also managed to receive songs with tremendous talent on the performance end. Aside from getting musical pieces sung by several original Into the Woods cast members such as Bernadette Peters, Joanna Gleason and Tom Aldredge, they were the recipient of tunes performed by Fritz Weaver, Angela Lansbury, Ethel Merman, Martha Raye, Chita Rivera, Sara Bareilles, Shani Wallis, Julie Andrews, Madeline Kahn, Elizabeth Allen, Sally Ann Howes, Elaine Stritch, Robert Morse, Anthony Newley, Victor Garber, Ivy Austin, Ron Husmann, Ray Bolger, Dick Van Dyke, Jack Cassidy (plus his son Patrick), Len Cariou, Bert Lahr, George S. Irving, Jack Albertson, Hans Conried, Alfred Drake, David Wayne, Charlotte Rae, Dorothy Loudon, Tessie O'Shea, Howard Da Silva, Inga Swenson, Maurice Evans, Vincent Price, John McMartin, Michael Granger, George Hearn, Helen Gallagher, Nanette Fabray, Agnes Moorehead, Joanna Merlin (who cast our show's original Broadway production), Anna Quayle, Carol Channing, Marian Mercer, Margaret Hamilton, Shirley Booth, Lauren Bacall, Katharine Hepburn, Glenn Close, Roddy McDowall, Joel Grey, Dick Shawn, Kay Medford, Beatrice Arthur, Thelma Ritter, Eileen Herlie, Mildred Natwick, Lotte Lenya, Maria Karnilova, Hermione Gingold, Carole Shelley, Cass Elliot, Charlotte Greenwood, Billie Hayes, Reta Shaw, Madeleine Sherwood, Glynis Johns and Carol Haney. In the end, I gave out an eclectic, vast conglomeration of songs which equated to 1000 in total.

I was blessed to participate in a production that was so top tier. We took a lengthy, elaborate, difficult, excellently written show in all its glory, did justice to the material and played it to the hilt. Being involved actually revived my love for it. I'd forgotten how much I enjoy Into the Woods. I'd say that our version was reminiscent of the '87 original but had its own stamp on things. However, it successfully utilized some of the '02 revival's better aspects, like having a live actor as Milky White (something I obviously appreciated), Our Little World and Jack/Little Red helping Cinderella finish On the Steps of the Palace. Apart from having a sense of crucial pacing, our interpretation succeeded at being a humorous, macabre, lively, emotionally impactful, atmospheric fantasy. Its musical numbers dazzled and the book scenes stood their ground. We had a small, unique ensemble of forest animals and villagers.

Every cast member had masterful costumes to wear. The scenery cultivated in being a visual marvel. Thanks to our technical director-producer, the tech aspects were well taken care of. Everyone's props, hair and makeup were all good, too. The onstage, musically inclined, savvily conducted band backed us up. There was a most marvelous crew who added to the show's quality.

Lucky me, thanks to Milky White's standing around onstage with purpose, the 'ole Gman got to be up close to the onstage action. I'd get to enjoy to the show all while acting. 'Twas the best of both worlds. I would also watch/listen from the wings when they'd park me backstage and after I'd be released from cow duty. Some of my personal fave moments include the stepfamily's antics, The Witch's Rap, Agony, both act I midnights, On the Steps of the Palace, Your Fault, Last Midnight and No One is Alone.

However, if I had to choose, my all-time favourite scene was the first Giant encounter. An atypical choice, but bear with me. I actually liked how you never saw the Giant's face. It allowed the crowd to use their imagination. Our Giant, who also doubled as Cinderella's mother, used a well reverberated Scottish accent that was funnily fearsome. The acting, staging and sound effects made you believe that there was a Giant in the other character's midst. Mounting dread that had been building up earlier paid off with a sense of urgency.

Killing off the Narrator in a meta way, much like my death scene, teetered the edge of being both dark and comedic. We had a fabulously performed rendition of The Witch's Lament (featuring lyrics not utilized in Into the Woods' famed PBS broadcast). Prior to doing the show, I hadn't realized the significance of each onstage maternal figure being left alone with their children and Little Red. Thanks to how it was staged, the stepfamily actually had a moment of genuine humanity. Also, there was the Stepmother's priceless exit line. Classic stuff.

I can recollect various moments from the experience. In order to get used to acting with a covered face, I wore a balaclava and sunglasses at a couple rehearsals. Sorta cockeyed idea, but it helped out. My gal pals thought the cow head was adorable they first saw it. There was the time it fell off during practice. Our Jack quipped "Milky White, you've been decapitated!". When Milky White's back legs were first used, the cast got a kick out of seeing them when I first rolled onto the stage. At the initial band rehearsal, our Cinderella and a kindred spirit friend sat with me in the front row. Cue to cue was super long and took place on a snow day, but being among friends made it all worth it. We actually missed out on a tech-dress rehearsal due to incriminate weather, but everybody got back to basics like nothing happened the next day and it went well. During the show conditions period, I recall two separate instances wherein we were on break between acts and I talked with a friend--In costume. They were completely unfazed by the fact they were talkin' with a cow.

The other fellas and I shared laughs in our dressing room. One time I got to go for a ride in Rapunzel's tower. The cast members who assisted Milky White with moving around were really helpful. I felt like one of the girls during the He's a Very Nice Prince sequence and it was fun doing Milky White's big run offstage. During the feeding scene, which we milked for all its worth, I did accidentally get Cinderella's golden slipper to the face a few times, which was pretty funny looking back. I'd always feel a sense of accomplishment and relief upon being released the cow costume

Over the course of 7 performances, our show was a smash hit with receptive crowds, favorable word of mouth and steady ticket sales. Several people of note watched the show and enjoyed themselves. Most notably, my family and lady love. Milky White received a lot of much appreciated, sweet feedback.

On February 28th (which was interestingly enough Peters and Aldredge's birthday), I had a bad day. Seeing everyone during the evening made it all better. It snowed, but the show went on. In an act of resilience, we weathered the weather, came, saw and rocked it. At our final, sold out matinee, we went out with a bang.

I saved the experience's best part for last--My co-stars. What I miss above all else is working with them. They really were the kind of folks who make you want to show up. On the boards, they were perfectly cast and nailed their characters. Offstage, everybody got along. The mutual respect was evident. As our esteemed stage manager noted, there were no cliques. Nobody had an ego or was mean. My fellow cast members were a wonderful, special, close-knit group of people to work with.

I was really lucky to reconnect with old friends and make new ones, too. The people I worked with made playing Milky White so much easier 'cause they were unbelievably patient, supportive, kind and complimentary. They'd react to and treat her like she was an actual character. Not just a kooky guy dressed as a cow. Without a doubt, I'm extremely thankful we journeyed into the woods together. It was an honor.