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2011 contents
Eric
Barry Photography
Scene:
Twenty-one
girls are glued to Liza
Levy’s
every movement. For
20 minutes, Levy, a
marketer for Rounder
Records by day and a
choreographer by night,
has been teaching the
pre-teens and teens
an intricate sequence
of dance steps. Behind
her is a wall of mirrors
where each nimble dancer
can check that her high
kicks are high enough,
her timing and posture
correct. It’s
Wednesday, a school
night, and the girls
are in the basement
of Wellesley’s
Christ Church United
Methodist for the second
round of auditions for
The Wellesley Players’ upcoming
production of Annie.
Dressed
in leggings or plaid
lounging pants and T-shirts
or tank tops, the slender
dancers thrust their
arms forward, swing
hands behind their backs,
rapidly slide sideways,
kick out, cross one
leg over the other,
slide again, extend
their arms left and
right at shoulder height,
and flutter their hands
like the wings of birds.
It’s
a sassy routine that
most of them learn easily.
Over
three previous days,
103 children and adults
from throughout greater
Boston auditioned for
this community theatre
production. Director
Rachel Fennell, Stage
Manager Emily Hart,
and actors’ rep
Valerie von Rosenvinge
now sit together at
a table studying those
who made the first cut.
By the weekend, the
creative team, including
Levy and music director
Chris Holownia, will
announce the cast.
On
January 3, production
will be in full-swing.
There’s
no time to waste, what
with songs, choreography,
staging, and dialogue
to learn; sets to build;
lighting to design;
costumes to create;
audiences to be enticed;
and tickets to sell
before opening night
in March.
I’m
watching the rehearsal
from the wings with
Annie producer Marian
Morrison who calls herself “a
Catholic cantor” at
St. Johns Parish in
Wellesley Hills. “You
can tell quickly which
kids have what it takes.
They get the routines
right away and your
eye is drawn to them,” she
says.
With
instruction ended, in
quick succession the
hopeful “orphans” perform
in groups without Levy
to guide them. The dance
audition is quick, decisive.
Next Fennell hands them “sides,” or
pages of the script. “Ladies,
make no assumptions
based on which part
I ask you to read,” she
says. “Remember
that Annie is the boss.
She’s
calm and collected.
She knows she can handle
whatever life throws
at her.”
Later
she tells me, “As
director, my approach
is to paint a real picture.
This story is derived
from a comic strip and
art imitates life, but
back then there were
kids who lived very
much like this. We want
to show the dichotomy
between how the rich
and the poor lived.
I talked to the kids
a lot about closing
your eyes and imagining
that you have no mom,
no dad, you sleep in
a room with 11 other
girls and the only adult
there for you is [the
hated headmistress]
Miss Hannigan. They
can picture it. It really
shows in their eyes.”
Among
qualities the team looks
for is an actor’s
ability to take direction.
When two candidates
for the role of Annie
run through a scene
with two equally talented
men auditioning to be
Oliver (Daddy) Warbucks,
the male lead, it’s
clear the choices will
be difficult.
Annie, of course, is the much-loved
Broadway musical based
on the comic strip Little
Orphan Annie. It’s
the Depression-era story
of a spunky orphan who
is invited to stay at
the wealthy financier
Warbucks’ home
for two weeks as a publicity
stunt. Warbucks’ heart
melts, however, when
Annie beguiles him,
as well as President
Roosevelt and nearly
everyone else, with
her optimism about the
outlook for tomorrow.
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The
Wellesley Players, founded
in 1925, is among the
oldest community theatre
groups in the country.
(America’s
first was The Footlight
Club in Jamaica Plain
which has performed
annually since 1877.)
Their Steel
Magnolias and Fiddler
on the Roof recently earned awards
from EMACT, the Eastern
Massachusetts Association
of Community Theatres.
In 81 seasons, they
have staged more than
150 productions, including
two mainstage shows
a year, typically a
drama and a spring musical.
The affiliated Wellesley
Players Family Theatre
introduces children
as young as age three
or four to the magic
of live performance.
Like
all community theatre,
nearly everything depends
on volunteers. From
80 to 100 are needed
per show. Watching behind
the scenes, what strikes
this observer is the
collaborative spirit
that makes it work and
the bonds of friendship
that grow.
Director
Rachel Fennell, manager
of a training program
taught by clinicians,
is also the current
EMACT president. “This
region is especially
active for community
theatre and it’s
a cut above the rest,” she
says. “You
can find terrible work,
but on the whole you
find higher quality
than in other parts
of the country.” So
much enthusiasm, however,
has led to overabundance;
more than 100 community
theatre groups are in
eastern Massachusetts
alone. (About half belong
to EMACT.) “We’re
now competing with each
other for actors and
audiences. Greater Boston
is a very supportive
community but it’s
affecting the bottom
line” in
terms of crucial ticket
sales, she noted.
Because
family and friends make
up a large part of the
audience, Fennell says
Annie is a cash cow
when you put 30 girls
into the orphan ensemble,
but it doesn’t
make for a good show.
The Wellesley Players
auditioned 76 girls.
After tonight, 10 will
be chosen.
Scene:
Lauren
Weintraub, 12, of Sudbury,
is Annie. A slip of
a girl, she lights up
the room with energy
and a big, confident
singing voice that sounds
remarkably like the
star of the original
Broadway show. “I’ve
been in six or seven
musicals,” she
tells me. “I
love it. It’s
my hobby. I met some
of my best friends through
training at the Performing
Arts Connection in Sudbury
and several are in this
show. This is the role
I’ve
always wanted.” Fennel
says Lauren “has
been performing practically
since she was in the
womb. She’s
really talented.”
When
Bruce von Rosenvinge
arrives, wearing track
pants and a Grateful
Dead T-shirt, several “orphans” rush
over as if he was Santa.
Lauren gives the big
man a hug. Von Rosenvinge,
50, an insurance defense
litigator from Weston,
has been selected to
play Oliver Warbucks.
New to the Wellesley
Players after numerous
children’s
shows at Open Fields,
this is his first major
theatrical role since
he was a student at
Wellesley High. He’s
comfortable on stage,
a folk singer and guitarist,
but dancing… well…he
says working with him
is choreographer Liza
Levy’s
biggest challenge.
“I
spend at least two hours
a night memorizing my
lines,” says
von Rosenvinge. “My
wife, Susie, now knows
the play by heart.” In
community theatre, many
family members get involved.
Susie, an artist, works
with several parents
and others on sets.
Still others apply makeup,
do hair, work in the
box office, or bring
food for the cast on
performance dates. Tonight
is Kim Lanzoni’s
turn as on-site parent
should any child need
help. Haley, her daughter,
is Tessie, one of the
orphans in the cast. “Between
voice and ballet lessons,
school, three-hour rehearsals,
and all the other things
she does, the balancing
act is difficult,” says
Lanzoni, “but
the kids have a wonderful
time.”
Right
now, like experienced
professionals, the children’s
ensemble is singing
and dancing while pretending
to scrub the floors
in “It’s
a Hard Knock Life.” Holownia
conducts his exuberant
chorus from an upright
piano off to the side.
Others work unseen.
It is Virginia Handerhan’s
turn to chair the costume
team of four women from
three different communities:
Wellesley, Arlington,
and Sherborn. “You
don’t
need to be a terribly
skilled seamstress but
you need a vision, and
a sewing machine,” she
says. What the group’s
costume shop can’t
provide, the team hunts
and gathers, borrowing
from other community
theatres.
“Love
of theatre can be infectious,
contagious,” observes
Handerhan. She caught
the bug from her children. “Among
your neighbors there
are a lot of very talented
people and you’d
never suspect their
abilities if you don’t
attend community theatre.”
To
anyone hesitating to
lend a hand or audition,
Bruce von Rosenvinge
says, “Get
over it. It’s
one of the most amazing
experiences you’ll
ever have. You meet
people from all walks
of life who you’d
never otherwise have
an opportunity to meet
and who come together
to take on this project.
I’ve
been lucky to experience
many things but the
camaraderie of community
theatre is the best.”
In
the past year, an online
tool called a “wikispace” has
improved communication
among cast members,
their families, and
the production crew
for schedule changes,
backgrounders, and news.
Levy uses the “wiki” to
post videos of dance
numbers that she shoots
with her cell phone
camera so the ensemble
can review their choreography
between rehearsals.
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Other
obstacles are harder
to overcome. While the
Burlington Players,
for example, hold auditions,
rehearse, build sets,
and perform in a single
town-owned building,
the Wellesley Players
have no such place.
Instead, they juggle.
They pay space rental
fees to the church,
build sets in a second
building, store costumes
and props in a third,
and perform in a fourth.
One week before opening,
it will all come together
at Babson’s
Sorenson Center for
the Arts. The tech team
has four days to install
sets and perfect lighting,
furniture placement,
and sound; dress rehearsals
will be on stage for
the first time. The
orchestra rehearses
only twice. Next year,
Babson is increasing
the fee to rent its
theatre. Needless to
say, The Wellesley Players
is seeking a more affordable
space where everything
happens under one roof.
Scene:
There’s
a happy buzz throughout
the crowded lobby for
this first of six performances.
We take our seats, a
hush falls over the
audience, and the orchestra
begins. Right away,
we’re
swept into the story.
Several actors are as
good as any professional
you’d
see on a Boston stage.
The show is a delight,
so delightful, in fact,
that I already look
forward to seeing what
The Wellesley Players
will have to offer next
year. 
For
a schedule of upcoming
productions, visit www.wellesleyplayers.org.
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