We have so much time and so little to do!

Wait! Strike that— reverse it. We do have a significant amount of time— but still— lots to do!

Auditions—check. Cast—check. Scripts—check. Promotional Photos—check.

Set, costumes, practices, lights—well……………………………we’ll get to it. It was a brisk Thursday night—this past Thursday if we are being picky—when Matthew, Susanne, and I made a trip to cold storage. Cold Storage is one of the many areas that Cotton Hall stores used set pieces. We went in with a single flashlight in search of a tree. It wasn’t a real tree, mind you, but a rolling tree that was built for Swamp Gravy—then used again in Alice. The back of the tree is open, with interior shelves to hold props on stage.

We found the tree in a sea of wooden barnyard animals, defunct stage lights, and a mountain of wooden platforms. Luckily, the tree wasn’t trapped in the middle of all of it. We found it nicely pressed against the edge of Cotton Hall’s storage section. Getting it out of the building was no problem—roll it to the edge of the truck platform and flip it off! The tree is sturdy and that is the ONLY way we’ve found to get it out. Once we got the tree upright—we placed two wooden chickens on the shelves inside the tree.

The ground was sandy and the wheels began to sink…as expected. We ran into the same problem last summer. What else would we expect rolling a heavy tree down a sandy red drive way. Matthew was pushing the tree and I was pulling the front. Susanne was there—walking along beside. Then with a little jolt—to pull the wheels from the sand—the chicken decided to attack! It flew out of the shelf and pecked me—HARD—on the head. I did a little jumping jig, rubbing the huge lump on my head, while Susanne laughed like a banshee and Matthew asked what was going on. He missed the whole thing from behind the tree. Susanne tucked the wooden chicken under her arm, and the rolling was underway again. A second chicken, this one on a lower shelf, made a leap for my foot. Thankfully, I dodged that attack. Susanne tucked chicken number two away as well. Once we hit asphalt, the trip was breezy. I wheeled the tree up the hill, while Matthew and Susanne kept those chickens the heck away from me. We only passed a few people on the way up the road—which kind of defeated the purpose of retrieving the tree at night.

When we finally got the tree to the InterACT Building—it wouldn’t fit through the door.

Really?!?!?!?

It was one of those things I should’ve expected. It didn’t fit into the Cotton Hall doors last year! We had to open one of the large doors—you know, those huge red ones from the days when Cotton Hall was actually a place to store cotton. The InterACT Building has a garage door, but at that point, none of us wanted to deal with the tree anymore that night. We jettisoned it under the peanut jig beside the building. I decided if it was there the next day, it would be worth the trouble to get it inside. If it was gone—so be it. If someone wanted it bad enough and could move it without being seen or heard—they deserved that tree!

Friday Morning: The tree was still there. Shocker!

It's a full time job...

The scripts are officially done. It took seven and a half hours for the copier to spit out the 38 copies of a 65 page script. SEVEN and a HALF hours. During that time, we were able to fold and refold the shirts in the souvenir shop, type a letter to the cast, watch clips from Swamp Gravy's past, and see papers meander their way out of the slower than slow copier.

The parent meeting is getting closer, and I think everything is ready. We are going to make it very quick for parents. Instead of making everyone wait around for other parents to arrive before we begin, we are going to send the parents from station to station to get things done. At one station, they will get their script, discuss rehearsals, and get sponsorship forms. At the next, kids will have their measurements taken for costumes, while parents finish filling out the last forms for the show. At the last station, parents can pre-order the James and the Giant Peach shirts, and sign their kids up for the Actor Factory Summer Camp. I think this way will be much faster, and still get more done than the traditional meetings ever did.

Friday marked the first official shopping trip for James and the Giant Peach. So far, we have acquired a canvas drop cloth, six yards of gray fabric, and a fake apple. I'm serious. That's it.

We need lots of stuff—but lots of what we need cannot be bought. Well actually, it probably could, but that isn't the goal! The plan for the James in the Giant Peach set is to use at least 50% percent recycled material. That means that half of the set will be maid of things that are found, salvaged, reused, borrowed, or stolen (just kidding... maybe.)

Making it all happen...

To do list: Grow a giant peach. Period.
It has gotten to that time of pre-production where I should have all of the specifics nailed down. I should have some general idea of how everything (or at least the major things figured out.) For Wonka, those challenges included hiding our biggest set until the very last moment and shrinking Mike Teevee. Alice in Wonderland brought in more challenges, but none too very difficult— Alice had to fall down the rabbit hole, the door to Wonderland had to grow or shrink (Unfortunately growing and shrinking on command was not part of Beth Anne's skill set), and many, many sets had to move, and move quickly.

While reading through James for the second time, I've realized... there is lots of magic in James. I knew it was there. I wasn't completely unaware of the fact, but I am not sure I had fully realized the amount of magic that we had to show. For a filmmaker, these magical feats would be a snap. Editing is a luxury that live performance doesn't have. Things have to happen correctly every time, not once out of twenty takes.

I won't spoil any of the wonders that James will behold this summer, but I can share something that surprised even me. After appraising the full script, I've realized that we will use all five of Cotton Hall's stages as part of the peach at on time or another. And on top of that— there will be four physical peaches— not just one—used to create the magical journey of Jame's peach. All four of the peaches will be made of different mediums that best fit the individual purposes of each fruit.

The plans are made. Now to make them happen.

Meeting the Parentals...

For a young man in a relationship, meeting the girlfriend's parents is nerve-wracking, scary, and more than a little intimidating. Now imagine that feeling and multiply it times thirty —that is the fate that awaits me. Now, maybe I am exaggerating a tiny bit, but that is exactly how I feel about meeting the cast's parents. The idea of the parent-production staff meetings is simple — introduce the production staff to the parents. We also go over rules, get costume measurements, and try to pump the kids up for the coming weeks of work . Believe me —our rehearsals are work — fun work, but work none-the-less.


If the fear of auditions is scary, then the fear I feel towards the first cast meeting is the paramount of my nervous anxiety. People constantly say, "Will —you are the director. The parents are there to listen to you, and there is no reason to be scared." The thing is, I realize how irrational of a phobia it is, but just can't shake it. I feel almost disrespectful telling these parents, and worse, the kids close to my age—what they can and cannot do with their volunteer (summer no less!) time at Cotton Hall. Normally, I do as little talking as possible, and then pass off the meeting to Kate, who takes it home.

But this time around—I plan to master the parent-production crew meeting—to be as prepared as possible. We will pass out scripts and t-shirt forms, making sure to get the last remaining medical and press releases turned in. I also hope to get parental input on rehearsal times for the practice schedule—which will be finished and handed out at the cast movie night! After we talk a bit about the show, and introduce the kids and parents to the production crew, the kids will be split up among three stations. At one, they will order and pay for their cast tee-shirts, at another costume measurements will be taken, and the third will be for Med/ Press Releases to be turned in. I am PLANNING to be confident, and ready to attack (So to speak.)
Not to be stodgy and professional—I will be myself. It's important for the parents to know who will be watching their kids this summer—and I don't want them to think that they will be leaving their precious little bundles of joy with the "nervous looking kid who barely spoke at the first meeting" and his co-conspirators.

So hopefully there will be no gun-polishing father warning me to keep his little girl happy—and no reason to be fear being in charge.