Being Michael

In September, 2019, I heard about the audition dates for my hometown's 43rd annual Rotary show. The Rotarians decided on a production of Matilda the Musical. I debated trying out. I didn't think I'd be qualified. Eventually, I reconsidered. I figured I might get to tread the boards. Furthermore, upon listening to a local podcast, I found out that I would be qualified. There ended up being a conglomeration of adult roles.

I made sure to snag an audition spot on October, 26th (a.k.a audition day 1 and Julie Dawn Cole's birthday). I recall being the first guy to audition. There weren't any male auditionees on the premises. Anyway, I had the fortune of being acquainted with all but 1 of the present production team members. This left me feeling at ease. My moves from the dance section were something that need to be glossed-over. I proceeded to sing a satisfactory rendition of Pure Imagination (sporting a brown top hat). The audition concluded with an acting portion. They had me read for Michael, the dense brother, and Sergei, a Russian mobster! I had a blast (incidentally, the mafia role went to a fella who occupied the footwear of Jack Albertson).

After departing the audition facility, the anguishing anxiousness began. On the plus side, I found a fortune cookie slip in my wallet. Somebody graciously included 26 as a lucky number. That was a reassuring coincidence.

On November 1st, I dreamed that I came across the production team members from the audition (minus the righteous choreographer, she was attending a dance instructors of the year convention). These folks were having a meeting in a name-brand electronics store. They told me I'd be their Michael. During the day, I doubted the notion of receiving the role. I felt long in the tooth because of the press release and auditioned with crummy Halloween facial hair. That evening, I received a message from the show's astonishing director. I was asked to be Michael and tears automatically streamed from my eyes. Matilda the Musical ended up being an astronomical blessing. I'll elaborate on how my association with piece benefited my life.

First of all, the reading was off-the-charts. We partook in a plethora of a drama games. The director gave us a sense of. Instead of being at tables, there was enacting of rough staging. I met the 3 stupendous artists who were cast as my family. Thanks to the proficient producer, I acquired my rental book of grandeur which consisted of the libretto/score. I'd never had such a rad time at a reading.

The rehearsal process kept yours truly busy for months. Each practice allowed me the radiance of getting out more. There definitely were loads of tremendous things to look forward to. Once again, I witnessed the stimulating, arduous, gratifying process of putting a musical production together.

This experience was viable because I got kicks out of being Michael. In retrospective, I deem him a mighty hearty character role. He popped up throughout the piece. The directors let me bring stuff to the table. For instance, to pay homage to a Quentin Blake illustration, Michael had an overbite. I integrated moments where Michael played with knackered toy cars. One evening those moments evolved into a running-gag in which Michael would put them in his mouth, too. Using Roald Dahl's 1988 book as a reference, I looked saddened and waved to Matilda at the denouement (I integrated other instances of humanization, too).

My performance resulted from collaboration. The savvy assistant director instructed me to have teenage boy posture. The director assisted me with understanding certain inflections. The precise, efficient choral and musical directors were invaluable when it came to ukulele cues. My meritorious co-star cast as the librarian helped me out, too. She suggested I gloat about my long locks when the "I've got hair!" line came around.

Obstacles came along with this acting gig. Thankfully, I outwitted them. I memorized my dialogue by memorizing the last 2 words of the previous line. I became more comfortable with scene transition by acquiring experience, going over the tasks in my head and receiving support. Thanks to learning the basics on the job and the sterling crew, I'm capable of maneuvering a hairline mic (mic tape is still treacherous, though).

A ginormous obstacle occurred when a cast member unfortunately had to leave the cast. When the time came to recast her parent role from the opening number, I jokingly volunteered. In addition to being Michael, I surprisingly became an onstage dad (I only had to ask the helpful stage-manager who my esteemed fake-kid was). After sizeable sessions of practicing, I committed the staging/material to memory and sorted out my parent-to-Michael quick-change. I'd be channeling Leonard Stone, too.

I managed to contribute things. I contributed my socks/shoes, Michael's ballcap, the parent's button-up shirt and a pair of jeans (which fit after a period of walking, water drinking and resisting decadence). With help from my dearest mother, I supplied the knackered toy vehicles. It was joyously joyful putting together the way my makeup looked, too. The assistant director, musical director and a costuming aficionado contributed stuff as well. They were kind enough to contribute a Michaelish t-shirt, ukulele and corduroy blazer.

'Twas joyous being associated with such a sublime production. Its libretto scenes were groundstanders. The musical numbers were splendiferous. Our dahling technical director accentuated the onstage action. We had a set of intricacies and set pieces that were swell in terms of crafting locations. The costumes were pertinent to each character. The musically skillful band tore things up on the balcony. The illusions were nifty, too.

It should be noted that my co-stars were estimable. They were cast dexterously. Onstage, they'd be in their element. Off the boards, they were such splendid folks. It was a gift reconnecting with people from past local productions. On the flipside, it was a godsent getting to know new collaborators, too.

I definitely have loads of memories from the run. Each showing went swimmingly. Our crowds were receptive (some were sold-out). Noteworthy people were attendees. I recall moments which received regular feedback. An example would be the audience laughing when the gent cast as Trunchbull made his entrance. The crowd would also respond heartily when our lavish Rudolpho did the splits.

The cast would partake in a warmup and meet in the greenroom for a cheer (on one occasion, we all cheered "Backwards!"). Candies were backstage. One of my superlative co-stars made squares for the cast and another baked cookies. When my fake-dad broke the 4th-wall prior to the Telly number, one patron retaliated by calling him a "Green haired elf".

I remember how my fake-sister headlined the show despite the fact she'd been ill. After seeing a video of my fake-mum taken by our kindhearted acrobat, I tried singer's spray supplied by our delightful Miss Honey. It tasted deplorable, but I can laugh about my reaction in retrospect. I had a programme signed by the entirety of the company and became the recipient of treasured cards/gifts.

If you can't tell, being Michael was immensely remarkable. He's now my most favored role. Matilda the Musical was an utterly dazzling theatrical experience. I'm so appreciative of my time with the show. Hopefully this will inspire you to audition for a local production. You might be able to have similar experiences in the theatre.