theatre kids* are insufferable!
*I am theatre kids
Floor Time
/flôr tīm/
noun
the 15-60 minute time period spent laying on the floor in the middle of the work day, typically as a relief from the soul-sucking reality of corporate America.
“Are you going to be a person who sings at wicked tn?”
I received this text the day before I was scheduled to see Wicked: Part 1 in the theatre. And I understand the impetus—if you know me personally (or don’t, but have deduced my energy through these chaotic newsletters), you can confidently say that I give insufferable-theatre-kid energy. And you’re right. So if MY has-been, theatre kid-loving, cries-at-every-Broadway-show-I’ve-ever-seen, Wicked-fanatic ass can shhh at the theatre—SO CAN YOURS.
Now that that’s out of the way, YOU GUYS. Wicked!!! It’s here! I haven’t been this excited for a movie premiere since maaaybe Harry Potter? I mean, it’s Wicked—the beloved musical and epic tale that every theatre kid has a unique and personal story around. I saw the tour in seventh grade when it came to the Bay—the ticket was a Christmas present from my aunt and uncle, and they treated our whole family. I remember wanting to buy merch after (a T-shirt, namely) but my mom thought it was too expensive. I eventually wore her down and at least convinced her to get me the little collectible booklet (I can’t explain this better, but I feel like IYKYK). I viscerally remember crying and saying “whoa” when Elphaba was lifted into the sky at the end of act one. It was a magical afternoon. I saw the show that first made me fall in love with theatre—and I think every theatre kid can attest to its legacy and impact.
And here’s a little bonus anecdote—after seeing Wicked for the first time, I was buzzing. I sang more and more around the house. I would print out lyrics from azlyrics.com and tape them to the outside of my shower door so I could karaoke and learn songs by heart (“Defying Gravity” definitely made the door). Finally, our family friend told us about this community theatre company their daughter was a part of. My mom pushed me to audition, thinking it would give me a place to channel my new musical energy. The thing to know about Clarice-from-yore though, is that I was a really shy kid1. I remember staring at my shoes while walking through school hallways so I wouldn’t have to make eye contact with anyone else2. The thought of going to an audition actually made me feel sick to my stomach, so much so that on the day of the audition, I was at home pacing back and forth trying to decide if I should go. Then literally 10 minutes before, I decided (and had to run because I lived 15 minutes away). The audition happened and I learned that I had INTENSE stage fright. I got the words out but my vision was blurred and I’m not sure if I even sang on key. Somehow, my friend convinced the director to give me a chance (also because I was one of two people who auditioned for the role, and I showed up already knowing the lyrics to the solo—thanks, shower door!). From then on, I was determined to get over my stage fright.
The thing is, I did. I went on to do 3 seasons of shows with this community theatre. I joined choir, I started taking voice lessons, and in high school I did Chamber choir and participated in the yearly musical production. I even did collegiate a cappella3. And I’m so glad that my mom nudged me that one day, and that little 12-year-old me was brave enough to get myself to the audition even though I was terrified.
And now that I’ve told you all that, you can understand why I have the relationship with theatre that I do. Theatre helped me find confidence. Even now when I walk into a job interview, I treat it as that audition. In a way, I’m in character. And theatre helped me build empathy. It helped break down my walls and start talking about my emotions. It gave me some of my best friends in the whole world. So, when you see Cynthia Erivo and Ariana Grande crying during every interview on the Wicked press junket, that’s just what theatre brings out—especially a show as legendary as Wicked.
All that to say, the film is unbelievable. It’s a flawless ode to the original text and only Jon M. Chu could’ve pulled it off. It fed my little theatre kid heart. The one caveat to know is that the story mirrors our world a bit much (especially during an election year 🙃). But isn’t that why we have art? To turn to in times of darkness? Maybe my theatre kid is theatreing too close to the sun so I’ll wrap it up here. Go see Wicked. Go support your local community theatre.
Something I Thought of in the Shower
Who IS my favorite Elphaba? How is one to choose?? How does this guy know them all SO well???
Something To Laugh About
Here are this week’s gems:
This clip of Bowen doing Elphaba years ago (swipe to the last frame).
We’ve waited years for this version of this viral sound.
No because theatre is literally this. Cynthia and Ari’s behavior is widely understood by every theatre kid who has ever theatred.
Something for Clarice
Hey! This newsletter is free and I intend to keep it that way. That said, if you love it and want to show your appreciation, buy me a coffee :)
Something Pretty
This stunning end credit frame. The lettering. The lighting. All of it.
By the way…I’m reading this.
I am listening to Ina Garten’s memoir (I always prefer to audiobook memoirs—it’s so fun to hear a person’s story told by the actual person), which is so far quite delightful. And I’m learning so much about cooking, too. Can’t wait to compare and contrast this with the Martha Stewart documentary (which I’ve heard is quite the contrast). Food queens!!
And I’m watching this.
I mean, Wicked, soon to be over and over again. But aside from that, I have been swamped with the end of year work rush and didn’t watch any TV this week. Does the Bowen Yang Hot Ones count? (He also shares a first-experience-with-Wicked story—love).
Happy Thanksgiving week! Hope you all enjoy stress-free gatherings with your loved ones. I’ll be in New York attending a ham-exclusive Thanksgiving followed by a sidesgiving (sides only). Don’t @ me, turkey isn’t that great, and who needs the tryptophan anyhow. And one more time in case you need it, here’s this.
‘Til next time, fellow Ozians. Your friend,
Clarice
I know what you’re thinking—THIS chatterbox was a shy kid?!
not unlike walking around New York
there! bullying fodder. you’re welcome!