The Hills Are Alive With the Sound of Rehearsal Tracks

A few weeks ago, a sister in our ward told me that Lehi city’s production of The Sound of Music was in desperate need of men — especially men with ballroom dance experience. She, Gina, was acting as choreographer, and explained that the women in the show were unhappy with the prospect of dancing the Ländler without partners. Also, some Nazis would enhance the show a bit. Having recently played a dancing Nazi in a roadshow parody of The Sound of Music,  I thought it wouldn’t be too much of a stretch to play a dancer and a Nazi in the real thing.

Rehearsals had already been underway for a couple of months before I was recruited. I thought it nice that I could be in the play only putting in two weeks of practice before opening. I noticed a couple of things at my first rehearsal.

1. Things weren’t quite as disciplined as I was used to from high school. Ms. Coburn ruled the theater with an iron fist (occasionally gloved with velvet), but things were fairly chaotic here.
2. The accompaniment music was being played on a CD player, but there was something wrong with the recordings. It was like someone was talking in the middle of them.

I realized that the recordings were “watermarked”. Every minute or so, a voice would come in saying “rehearsal tracks”. It was horribly distracting, which I guess was the point — the business side of Rodgers and Hammerstein will let out practice music, but you can’t get the real stuff without a performance license. I was impressed that the performers were even able to sing when someone kept interrupting. Maybe you’d even get used to someone poking you in the eye if it happened enough. After a few rehersals, it seemed oddly disconcerting that there wasn’t a “rehearsal tracks” voice in the Keep the Commandments prelude at church.

Me and Kathy in our non-dancing-guest roles

At first it was somehow charming that I had this minuscule part. “Here I am spending three to six hours a night in rehearsals to be a piece of human scenery for five minutes! What a riot!” That charm wore off pretty quickly.

When I had to contradict the director to point out that line of dance for a waltz ought to be counter-clockwise and not clockwise, argue that the tempo of the music dictated that it ought to be a Viennese Waltz and not a slow waltz, and debate with people that the Viennese Waltz has the men starting with their right foot instead of their left and still not convince them, I really wondered, “What in the heck am I doing here?!?!?!”  And the last Nazi to join the ranks was clearly the director’s favorite. I got bumped from off the stage to guarding the back of the auditorium so that this guy could be up front, the director gave him the few lines to be said, and was trying to figure out how to make him the priest during the wedding scene too. I wasn’t going to be too surprised if the director added a new musical number so he could sing a solo.

Von Trapp Family Council

But as I sat grumpily watching the developing show one day, the rehearsal came to the scene where Captain von Trapp gets a tongue lashing from Maria for treating his family like soldiers instead of children. Then the children come in singing, and to their surprise the captain softens, joins in and becomes their father again.  This scene, and the one where Maria returns to the von Trapp villa as the children sing My Favorite Things helped me remember that the show has some great messages. It might be worth my time to make a small contribution to its success.

I decided to try to become more involved. If I was going to be there, I might as well be useful. I painted sets, screwed casters onto platforms, built flats, swept the floor and generally looked like I had just bathed in sawdust when it was time to go onstage. I became part of the running crew, operating the mid-stage traveller curtain during scene changes, and earned the respect of the stage manager as someone you could count on.

My station for the mid-stage traveler

It was also fun to get to know a few people. From the barely seven-year-old Ari playing Gretl, who would slap people on the bum as she walked by, to Kathy, my dance partner, Tyler, a very funny guy also roped into being a dancer/Nazi, and Joey, who had a dark outlook (“Is it time to go home yet?” he’d ask when showing up) but swore he was enjoying himself. There’s no people like show people.

Tyler and Joey

As opening night approached, it seemed pretty clear to me that we weren’t going to be ready — mainly for technical reasons. But I was working under the old Ms. Coburn rules: if it didn’t happen in dress rehearsal, it doesn’t happen in a performance. This production was unfettered by such rigidity. One of the jobs we Nazis had was to pull ropes to release huge swastika banners that would roll down for the concert scene near the end of the show. We did that for the very first time in front of the audience on opening night.

We were literally still building sets moments before the curtain opened — and on more than one night, as compromises of previous nights were rectified, such as doorways actually having doors in them at some point. Act II Scene 1, where the kids sing Lonely Goatherd for Max Detweiler, had three completely different versions.

1. The kids sitting in a semi-circle just swaying back and forth, because the plan had been to have marionettes and they weren’t ready.
2. Max playing blind-man’s bluff with the kids (as the script said) because the non-puppet swaying thing was too boring, and the puppets were still not ready.
3. Puppets!

Before one of the last performances of the run, the technical director quipped, “I think we’re finally ready to open.” That’s not to say that the earlier performances were bad, just not in full conformity with the original artistic vision.

Ari as Gretl

After the last performance, as we were tearing down the sets at midnight, I was seriously looking forward to a few nights at home without demands. Maybe I’d read my email or dig into the pile of bills on my desk; have some popcorn and read a book or work on some project or other — the mundane things that seemed to be on hold for a few weeks. It was kind of fun to be involved in the show — some spice for those very mundane things that fill up your life — but the time sacrifice was significant.  Would I do it again? I don’t know…. Maybe for a role that extends beyond Dancer/Nazi.