It's Raining Men,Part 1

Lesson Number One: It's hard to find enough boys.

It seems that it doesn't matter where you are, or what kind of theatre you're doing. It's hard to find enough boys.

As the summer of 2008 began, I had asked three male students at Five Towns to participate in "Godspell." Rudy Valme would play the role of Jesus, Kevin Story would play John/ Judas, and Chris Duffy would sing "All Good Gifts." But Godspell was written for five men. And we had absolutely no idea where we would get the other two.

That July 4th I was singing at the wedding of a former student. She had been in my first seventh grade class, which made me feel incredibly old. She told me that I'd be singing "Come What May" from Moulin Rouge with a high school buddy of her future husband. Then I felt old and snobby. "Should I practice backing off? Who is this kid?" I was willing to sing any song for her under any circumstances, but I was seriously concerned by the idea of singing a duet with a former high school show choir star. But the bride assured me that he was theatre major, and that she was pretty sure it would be fine.

I went to the rehearsal in Conneaut, Ohio kinda sorta prepared. And there, I met up with Andrew, who was told he would be singing with his buddy's fiance's former middle school choir director. He anticipated singing with a school marm, I anticipated singing with a hometown hero. And the rehearsal began.

Me: We should probably run this real quick before the rehearsal begins.

Andrew: Yeah. I mean, whatever.

Me: Which notes do you do at the end? The melody or the harmony?

Andrew: Whatever. I mean, I can do either.

Me: Well, I mean, I can do either, too.

*blank stare from both*

Me: (deciding I was going to need to be the teacher in this situation) OK, we'll do it as written. I'll do the melody.

Andrew: Sure. Whatever.

And then we started to sing.

Oh.

We're both... kind of... awesome. We have very similar voices that sound pretty great together. This was not what either of us expected.

And we spent the rest of the rehearsal and wedding with a very different attitude.

At some point between the rehearsal and the wedding, Ryan suggested I invite Andrew to join the cast of Godspell. It seemed like a pretty crazy idea. I knew he was a strong enough performer, but we had only just met him, and he lived in Chicago. The only way that would work is if he came to NYC and stayed with us for two weeks. Who in the world would be willing to stay with total strangers to do a show for no pay with a brand new company no one has ever heard of?

It turns out, Andrew was.

We might have spoken three times between the wedding and the night Ryan and I went to pick him up at the airport. I had to text him and ask what he was wearing (awkward) because I didn't remember what he looked like. I sent Jackie a text as we sat in the car:

At the airport waiting for Andrew. This is seriously happening.

Her response:

Stop. This is the beginning.

Ryan teased Andrew later that night. "You had to be just a little bit concerned that there wasn't going to be a car at the airport and this whole thing was a giant joke." He claimed he wasn't worried. But his parents were.

Since then, Andrew has become a Momentum Rep regular, as well as a close friend of our family. He was one of our most consistent crash couchers until he moved to New York, and even then he stayed with us for a few weeks until his lease started. We have often told the story of how we met at a wedding in Ohio, only to become close friends. And it is a great story.

But the truth is, it's only the first of a lot of crazy things that happened in that first production.

...to be continued...

Make Me a Show

(top- the first concert at The Spoon Theater. bottom- Mindy and Jackie enjoying an evening in their typical style.)

I was walking through the snow from Target to the mall. I'd done a little early Christmas shopping and was loaded down with packages. My phone rang. It was Jackie.

"Make me a show," she said.

"Excuse me?"

"I don't care what it is. Will you make me a show? I need you to make me a show."

Between the snow and the packages and the generally cryptic nature of this conversation, I was getting frustrated. So I ducked into the nearest door, which happened to be the women's department of the Macy's at the Queens Center Mall. I can still picture the gold boxes of Godiva chocolate wrapped with red ribbon and stacked neatly on tables. I stood and stared at them, packages at my feet, while Jackie told me her tale of woe. For the sake of privacy and people's feelings, I won't go into detail. But it involved an audition, a community theatre, and some questionable casting. She was not happy.

Once we got past this part of the story, I was finally able to understand what she wanted.

She wanted me to make her a show.

She wanted us to start a company that made casting decisions based on talent, and educational opportunities. A company that rewarded loyalty while allowing for new talent. A company where people could find a home, and make friends. But one that didn't cast people in inappropriate roles based on politics.

Of course, one does not just "make a show." We were incredibly naive about many things regarding theatre production, but we did at least know that much. So we started small. We put on a cabaret that January, while we were both on break from our respective colleges where we each served as adjuncts. I invited a few promising students to join us, and we sang for about thirty people at The Spoon Theater. (our first event held at this venue.)



I wish I could explain what was special about that night. Maybe some of the people who sang can help me by commenting below. But whatever else it was, it was fun. And the quality was strong. And we knew the plan. And it was just an overall pleasant day. And whatever else we knew, one thing was clear. This group needed to continue.

About a month later, Jackie and I met at Starbucks. (often referred to now as The MRC Annex Office.) We would become an official group. Eventually, anyway. We'd produce a show. We knew it would be "Godspell," and we knew I would direct, as we had discussed this dream many times before. We would choose actors who were on their way. Artists who had the training. And the drive. And the skills. Just maybe not the resume. (This was, after all, the opportunity I was being offered as a director, making my directorial debut.)

We needed a name. And we sat there for what felt like hours. I could not tell you a single idea that we tossed around, because they were all forgettable. Until we went back to the purpose of the group. Helping young artists stay motivated while building their resume. Helping more experienced artists keep their passion alive while focusing on other areas of their lives.

We wanted to help people maintain momentum. And once we used that word the first time, we couldn't imagine calling ourselves anything else.

And Momentum Repertory Company was born.

~Mindy Kay Smith, Artistic Director, Momentum Rep