Sweeney Todd - Design for Murder

 SWEENEY TODD
The Demon Barber of Fleet Street
Skylight Opera - Milwaukee, WI
Drawings, photos and scenic design copyright © 1997, 2007 David Maxine. All rights reserved.

One of my favorite design jobs ever was designing the set for a production od Stephen Sondheim's SWEENEY TODD for Skylight Opera in Milwaukee, Wisconsin in the spring of 1997. The show was directed by Jonathan Pape.

One of the first Broadway shows I ever saw was the original production of SWEENEY TODD starring Angela Lansbury and Len Cariou back in 1979. I loved it! But as much as I loved the original I felt a strong desire to be different in mine and to stay away from the "spinning-cube" unit-set of the original. So without too much chat here's what I did.

Below you will see several scenes from the show. Each starting with my watercolor sketch (the first thing I showed the Director) then photos of the 1/4 scale model I built, then my production photos of the design in performance. Enjoy!

My set was a collage of old London building elements that could move up and down, appear or disappear. It was a two level set - with stairs on either side leading to the upper-level and another staircase - used mainly to get to the Barber Shop, just off center. There was a tunnel at center where a tongue-like platform could emerge dressed with props and furniture to provide the various interiors.

The picture above shows the opening moments of the show when Sweeney and Anthony first arrive in London. The center panel (with the window panes) flys up to reveal Mrs. Lovett's Pie Shop. The pantomimed flash-back then occurs behind the window on the second level (as seen in the production photo below).

SWEENEY TODD - Sketch "Mrs Lovett's Pie Shop"

SWEENEY TODD - 1/4" Scale Model "Mrs Lovett's Pie Shop"

SWEENEY TODD - Production photo - "Mrs Lovett's Pie Shop"

As an experiment, I tried a couple sketches in purple. For a while I worried that the gray was a little too real and thought a brooding passionate color might be good to heighten the melodrama a little - but neither the director or I liked it. Below is a purple sketch for Johanna's first scene, "Green Finch and Linnet Bird" with Anthony emerging from a foggy London tunnel. The production photo below is a little dark - but the set basically matches the sketch.

SWEENEY TODD - Sketch "Green Finch and Linnet Bird"

 

SWEENEY TODD - Production photo "Green Finch and Linnet Bird"

At the end of Anthony's "Johanna" number, in the dark night time set pictured above, we finally saw all of the upper city-collage fly out revealing a soot-filled London cityscape. The city crowd pours in and young Toby marches across the upper level, he stops at center and begins to sing "Pirelli's Miracle Elixir." At the end of his long intro he he simply kicks the Pirelli advertising banner off the upper level and it unfurls over the tunnel opening from which Pirelli will make his imposing entrance a few minutes later.

SWEENEY TODD - Sketch "Pirelli's Miracle Elixir"

 SWEENEY TODD - Production photo "Pirelli's Miracle Elixir"

For the first part of ACT II I opened everything up. Sweeney is up top slitting throats, Mrs. Lovett is down below selling meat pies. The very large sooty-London cityscape drop in the photo above) was painted by me. As I remember it was 24 feet by 36 feet. It was begun by two local painters but they were not up to the task and when I arrived in Milwaukee, the drop was, well, a painting disaster. So I had to repaint it myself vertivcally (as opposed to flat on the floor) . Correcting a bad painting in the air is a lot harder than doing it right the first time flat on the floor. I made it look okay but it was a real chore to salvage that drop!

SWEENEY TODD - Sketch Act II

SWEENEY TODD 1/4" Scale Model - Act II

I have not covered every scene here, but this is a good sampling of one of my favorite design jobs. If you have questions by all means ask away!

Oh, I will add one thing. I was terrified the actors were going to ask me, as designer, to be the first person to be dumped from the barber-chair down the dark chute to the meat-room. Luckily, the Technical Director went first and I dodged the bullet.

I never did take the ride. Phew!

"Attend the tale of the scared designer..."

Drawings, photos and scenic design copyright © 1997, 2007 David Maxine. All rights reserved.

Gimme Some Skin

I am currently working on AIDA for San Diego Opera - no, I was not cast as Radames (or Amneris) but am instead serving as body-makeup artist. What does this job entail, you ask?

Well, I must arrive at the opera two hours before curtain time and venture into the lower depths of the theatre where I (and several other makeup folk) get to spend three hours applying body makeup to various supers, dancers, and some of the chorus.

The vast majority are men ranging in looks from stunningly beautiful to elderly teamster. For about two and a half hours these assorted men wander over to the body makeup area in their opera-supplied skin-pink underwear and I ask them if they are Egyptian or Ethiopian. Depending on their answer they are made up with either Light Egyptian or Dark Egyptian body makeup.

They are escorted over to an empty spot on the plastic-covered floor and I spray them down with a water bottle. This makes the makeup flow better, quicker, and more evenly. Using small round sponges and pancake make-up of the chosen shade, I proceed to daub, wipe, pat and otherwise apply the makeup to pretty much every exposed inch of them save their heads, hands, and feet -- which are their own responsibility.

We are basically just trying to apply an even, smooth color. There is not much time for subtlety. I have worked up a few tricks and quick-and-easy frills to this crank-em-out process. I try to make sure the body makeup fades realistically into their necks and faces which are sometimes too light or too dark. I also usually apply a quick dappled sponge effect to darken the tops of their shoulders, like natural sun exposure creates. And a last little trick of mine, when doing their backs, is to start with a very dark spongeful of makeup down their back bones. This makes a little valley of makeup which can then be feathered out with the sponge. It not only avoids streaks but also adds a subtle hint of muscle definition to their backs.

Other elements of the job include hiding tattoos, doing a body makeup quick-change on eight dancing girls in about eight minutes, and then a lot of clean up afterwards: washing sponges, refilling water bottles, preparing for the next performance, etc.

It's kinda funny having a job where a man in his mid 20s comes up to you in his underwear and apologizes for not shaving his armpits better.

This Light Egyptian makeup has an interesting backstory. It was developed by Max Factor for Lena Horne who desperately wanted to play Julie in the 1951 remake of SHOWBOAT. The studio apparently worried that Horne was "too light" and Max designed Light Egyptian to darken Lena Horne's skin to an appropriate shade for the studio. Then as Ms. Horne has told it, "They went and hired my good friend Ava Gardner to play Julie and covered HER in MY Light Egyptian!"

So in a few hours I must head to the theatre for my opera chores. SOMEBODY has to do it!

Aida, Aida, I just met a girl named Aida . . . that's a different show, isn't it?

--David

Slashing Sweeney Todd

Well, the web seems inundated with reviews of Tim Burton's film version of Sweeney Todd, some smart, many stupid. A friend in NYC said a bunch of goth kids came into the bookstore where he works and they'd just seen Sweeney. When they heard that the original Mrs. Lovett was created by Angela Lansbury the darling goth tykes responded, "Eeeww! That dumpy old woman! Was she the best they could get?"

Kinda makes a fella wanna move to France. . .

The original Stephen Sondheim Sweeney Todd opened in 1979 and it was my very first Broadway show. I got my chance to see it on a family trip to NYC when I was sixteen. It was only a couple months after Sweeney had opened and it still had the original cast of Len Cariou, Angela Lansbury, and Victor Garber. It really was extraordinary.

I have seen most of the important Sweeneys since: the New York City Opera version circa 1987 with Timothy Nolen and Joyce Castle, the 1989 Circle in the Square Broadway revival with Bob Gunton and Beth Fowler, the 2005 Broadway revival with Michael Cerveris and Patti Lupone. And the video version of the Lupone/Hearn SWEENEY concert, and of course the Lansbury/Hearn video. Heck, I've even seen the old black and white non-musical British film The Demon Barber of Fleet Street (1936), starring the amusingly named Tod Slaughter. I also designed a large-scale production of Sweeney for Skylight Opera in Milwaukee in 1997. Click Here for Pics and Blog.

Ok, now that my throat-slitting creds are established ...

I saw Burton's Sweeney on opening day and found it very enjoyable for the most part. I think it is probably Burton's best film since Ed Wood. I really wanted to like it and at the time I managed to convince myself that I did. I thought it looked really good. The smog-choked London of the 1840s was made quite real. Johnny Depp is certainly the right age and has the intensity to play Sweeney well, as does Helena Boham Carter to play Mrs. Lovett.

Burton has heavily cut the score for some unfathomable reason. At first I thought it was due to length, but on checking running times I found Burton's film runs about fifteen minutes LONGER than the full-length stage version does. Perhaps Burton truly wasn't up to directing a musical. I understand the reason for cutting the "Attend the Tale of Sweeney Todd" chorus parts. They are a theatrical conceit, and a stronger opening could be created for the film without it. But omitting the Act I quartet is bizarre. It's crucial to the development of the score. And paring down "A Little Priest" makes it seem like Burton simply didn't know what to do with the song. Or perhaps Depp and Bonham Carter simply weren't putting it over.

Spoiler Warning!

In the film Depp's and Bonham Carter's voices seemed fine. But as I've listened to the soundtrack since, they both sound very tentative and like they are at an early read-thru of the score. There is just not enough character in their singing, especially Bonham Carter's. In her opening number, "The Worst Pies in London," she should be chewing the hell out of the song - yet it has so little energy, it is so flat. Somehow Burton has stripped all of the comedy from the song. It needs to be lived and felt and made spontaneous. Mrs. Lovett is a very poor woman trying to get by selling meat-pies. She is supposed to be delighted that Todd--"A customer!!"--has just walked in the door. Instead, Bonham Carter gives us a Mrs. Lovett that is so underplayed it becomes confusing. On the one hand she should be trying to make a schilling by selling Todd a pie and on the other she wants empathy as she admits her pies are disgusting and gross. This slightly schizophrenic point-of-view is essential to Mrs. Lovett's character. It is what enables her to rationalize her way into serving cadavers as entrées. This multi-dimensional quality is largely missing from Bonham Carter's performance. And to top it off, the lyrics are simply hard to hear and understand.

Alan Rickman makes a wonderful Judge Turpin. Indeed, he would have made a great Sweeney. Sascha Baron Cohen (and his manhood) ably play Adolpho Pirelli. Though again a comedic moment goes for naught when Cohen switches from his over-the-top Italian accent to his Irish accent. Why is nothing funny in this movie? Jamie Campbell Bower sings beautifully as Anthony the young sailor, but he looks so pretty and girlish that it's hard to believe he serves any purpose on a ship other than butt-boy to all the "real" sailors, and it seems more likely Johanna should be rescuing him.

Burton made an interesting choice in the casting Ed Sanders as Tobias Ragg. Toby is most often played as a rather dim-witted young man/teenager. Burton cast a little kid who comes across as about eight years old. He has a lovely voice and makes "Nothing's gonna harm you" sound really wonderful. This is no reflection on Sanders abilities, but a kid that age simply can't act well enough to carry his weight in the drama. An genuinely little child has no real chance of "protecting" Mrs. Lovett from harm; and in the final scene when Toby is exposed to the horrors of the bake-house and meat grinder we need to hear a cry of terror and pain that makes our blood grow cold. Young Mr. Sanders just yells, "Mrs. Lovett, let me out," like maybe he has to go to the bathroom really bad.

You may have guessed that I am not a big Tim Burton fan. I think he has a wonderful imagination and a strong personal style, but I have always felt he needed to be more tightly reigned in, that his ideas were too often brilliant first drafts that were never refined enough or thought through, that often his ideas were simply there because they were "cool" and if they made hash of the story-telling or characterizations, it seems Burton thinks, "Who cares, it's cool"! Here are a few of the most disturbing "Burtonisms" in the film:

The Opening Credits

It seems hard to believe that Burton will blow his wad in the opening credits by showing the audience the barber chair, the chute, and the meat grinder full of body parts. A good story teller would make the audience wait and build up the suspense. Why enact the plot in mediocre CGI animation before the film has even started?

The Tower Bridge

Moments into the film Sweeney goes sailing down the Thames under the Tower Bridge. The film appears to be set circa 1840, but the Tower Bridge wasn't built until 1894, some fifty plus years after the film takes place. Whether this was Burton's idea, or Production Designer Dante Ferretti's, it was a stupid mistake and makes both men look unprofessional. I have seen several other blogs online talking about this goof and a number of people seem to argue back: "But it's a musical! Since when does a musical have to be accurate? People don't sing in the streets either!!"

Well, that's not the point. It's bad because I wanted to be paying attention to the story and music and not be jarred out of my seat by architectural anachronisms. I don't want to see the Eiffel Tower on a backdrop for Les Miz either! Science Fiction films don't HAVE to be historically accurate, but if Peter Jackson had put the World Trade Center in his 1933 period-correct KING KONG because he thought it looked cool - well, it would have been stupid!

Passing Sentence and Key-hole peeking

To show the quality of Judge Turpin's character there is a scene where the Judge passes a sentence to "Hang by the neck until you are dead" on some poor prisoner in the dock who has committed a petty crime. In the show it's a young man and the severity of the sentence to the crime is considered sufficient to show the Judge's character. Burton ends the scene by pulling back to show the condemned prisoner is a little kid, possibly six years old, weeping hysterically. Ahh, subtlety.... In another scene the Judge watches Johanna through a secret peek-hole. It's in the original show, it's creepy, and helps define character. Yet for some odd reason Burton explicitly has Judge Turpin watch Johanna sitting in her window, engaging with the sailor and throwing a key to him. Yet later on when Judge Turpin hears Johanna has made these plans he seems to have no idea he watched it all himself earlier that day. The scene could have been solved by having the Judge simply quit peeking before Johanna throws the key. Go figure.

Little Bald Boys

Casting little kid Ed Sanders as Toby seems like a good idea when he's singing. But his big solo number is about his job selling a hair growing tonic and how he went from being completely bald to having a full head of hair. Hmmm .... I don't know many bald little boys, do you? It makes no sense.

The Meat Grinder

Mrs. Lovett's meat grinder is so over the top it seems ridiculous. It stands about seven feet high with an opening many feet across. Why? Where did she get a several ton cast-iron meat grinder? Huh? Also, Burton as usual must throw subtlety to the winds. In the show Toby finds some hair and then a fingernail in a meat pie, he puts two and two together, and figures out what's going on in the horrific bakehouse. In Burton's scene Toby finds a whole finger. It's just crass and doesn't allow the audience to make the journey and see the horror grow as Toby figures it out.

End Credit Music

The film ends with a bloody tableaux of Sweeney holding Lucy, both dead and bloody. Then the credits roll and we get an unimaginative jumble of music from the film. This would have been such a perfect place to hear "Attend the Tale of Sweeney Todd." At the end of the credits Depp and Bonham Carter could even have risen from the dead, like they do in the show, for a post credit "Gotcha!"

It isn't a bad film. I will certainly buy the DVD. But it could have been so much better. Burton doesn't seem to understand that the comedic moments are there to let the audience catch their breath, to relax the audience, so he can scare them all over again. Sweeney needed to be a roller coaster ride of giggly gruesome humor and stark terror. Burton's Sweeney is very one-note. Burton has put his imagination into everything from the little bald boy to the six-ton meat grinder. It's in the CGI smog-filled London and the cockroaches in the pie shop. It's in the squirting blood and in the whole finger that Toby finds in his pie.

But here, perhaps, is the rub ... Burton's vision is so "imaginative" that nothing is left to the audience's imagination, and it's a shame Burton doesn't understand that that's where true horror lies.

Copyright © 2008 D. H. Maxine

Click! Click! Click!

I watched a lot of television when I was a kid. In addition to the usual suspects like The Brady Bunch, Gilligan's Island, and Bewitched, I was especially drawn to That Girl starring Marlo Thomas.

This may have been partly due to the story-line echoing my Mom's life before she married my Dad and I was born. That Girl ran on ABC from 1966 to 1971. It was the story of Ann Marie, a young woman who has moved to New York City to be an actress. In the mid-1940s my Mom had moved to New York for the same reason. So Mom could tell me stories about living in New York, eating at the Automat, the subway, Central Park, Summer stock, dating, roommates, having pre-marital sex, all the things one does when one runs away to New York City to be in the theatre. Indeed, I did much the same stuff when I went to New York to do theatre in the late 1980s.

That Girl also shot a lot of location footage in NYC, so each episode was story-fodder for Mom. In the last couple years That Girl has finally been coming out on DVD. And since I had pretty much not seen it since the mid 1970s, I have been buying and rewatching it. It holds up quite well, the writing isn't bad, the cinematography is especially good, and the production and costume design is great! It truly is a little time capsule of fashion and fun circa late 1960s.

On rewatching the series I encountered a two part episode called "It's a Mod Mod World!" in which Ann gets a job as a fashion model after being discovered eating that old actor's treat, ketchup-and-hot-water soup, at the Automat. I had not particularly remembered this episode until I resaw it. But it immediately brought back a torrent of nostalgic glee. Because back in the summer of 1970 it set my little mind to working and got me all fired up to join the world of fashion. Mod Squad, move over! I got out my Instamatic camera, corralled my three-year-old sister, and decided that I simply MUST do a fashion shoot!

Now, of course I had much empathy with Marlo Thomas and her character Anne Marie. And perhaps deep down I wanted to be an actress, model, fashion-plate. Perhaps I still do! Yet this being 1970, me being seven years old, and my not being able to both click the camera and do drag at the same time—I enlisted my little sister.

I set up my photo-shoot in front of the sliding glass doors that led from the living room to the dining room (they looked sort of like store windows to me). I asked my sister to go put on her best dress, or as my grandmother called it, her "Sunday-go-to-meeting" clothes. And we were ready. I demonstrated the classy poses Marlo Thomas had used. A look of coy surprise! Click! Hands up and out so as not to cover the dress! Click! A big smile! Click! Sell it, sister, sell it! Click!

And then one has to take the film to the Skaggs Drugstore to be developed and wait and wait and wait. But eventually they were developed and I was the Fashionista of the Second Grade. No digital, no Polaroid, just a Kodak Instamatic, a box of blue flash-cubes, my three-year-old sister, and me.

Copyright © 2007 D. H. Maxine. All rights reserved.

If I Were a Gay Man, Ya ha deedle deedle, bubba bubba deedle deedle dum!

The following blog is VAGUELY EXPLICIT!
If you are uncomfortable reading about a summer romp between two men - well, skip this blog.
Another one will be along in a little while.

---

SUMMER 1986

At this point in time I had been out for a little over a year - and been a non-virgin for about nine months. Happy little gay boy, la la la la la.  A good friend was stage managing a summer stock season in the midwest somewhere. The last show of the season was FIDDLER ON THE ROOF and she asked if I could come down and serve as an additional ASM (Assistant Stage Manager.) It was a big show, and the actual theater was a thrust-type stage with audience on three sides. My friend begged. She said she REALLY needed two ASMs backstage. Ever the genial fellow, I obliged.

When I got down there, all was good and the other ASM was nice. He was in his mid-20s, kind of cute, Jewish, had a moustache, and he was engaged to be married two weeks after FIDDLER closed. Oh, yes, ASM (as I'll call him from here on) was the only Jew involved in the production, on stage or off! It was basically the "Viking production" - starring Leif Erickson as Tevye! Oy!

Tech period went fine - except that I was nearly killed by a dry-ice fog machine. But the show duly opened to thundering applause. The opening night party was held at a beautiful home on a lake. We were tired, happy the show was open. We could now relax, do five shows on the next couple weekends, and otherwise have fun.

Well, after a few drinks the other ASM and I were sitting on a staircase drinking gin-and-tonics and he starts asking me about my coming out, what it was like, hadn't I ever been attracted to girls (No!), and other typical questions.

Then he says, "Would you?"

"Would I what?"

"You know! Would YOU . . . ?"

"Would I what?" I repeat.

He seems VERY uncomfortable! "You're really gonna make me ask this, arent you?"

"What are you talking about!" I ask, utterly baffled.

"Will you . . . have sex with me?"

Now, this is a spit-take moment if ever there was one! I recover myself and say, "Aren't you supposed to get married in two weeks?"

He explains that he is getting married, he loves his fiancee very much, but he's always thought he'd like to try sex with a guy just once. And this seems like his only chance before he gets married.

What we have here is an ethical dilemma  . . .

Is it wrong to have sex with a straight boy who is engaged to be married in two weeks?
Am I doing him (and his future wife) a favor by helping get this out of his system? 
If I say "No," am I denying him the chance to discover he REALLY is gay, and that he should call off the wedding before he messes up his and his future wife's lives?

Big inhalation of air . . . "So, you really want to do this? You're really serious?" I ask.

He stands up, takes me by the hand, and says, "Let's go!"

He takes me out to his car. We get in and he asks, "Where should we go?"

"Look, ASM, this was YOUR idea! Where do YOU want to go? Why don't we just go back to the Techie House?"

He explains that we can't do that, someone might get suspicious or figure out what was going on, or something.

I think, "Silly boy! Who cares! We're theater people!" We're still sitting in the car pondering locales and I put my hand on his upper leg and . . .

"Oh my God!" he says. "You're actually doing it!"

Now I'm TOTALLY confused. I ask, "If you don't want me to touch your leg through your pants, how are we gonna have, ummm . . . sex? Any time you want to stop, just say so. This was YOUR idea."

"I know where to go!" he beams and starts the car. I leave my hand on his leg and his breath corresponds to my hand as it moves higher up, onto his lap, and into the warm space between his jean-covered thighs.

He parks the car across the street from the theater.

"The theater!" I say. "You want to do it at the theater?"

"I have the only set of keys!" He smiles.

We go inside. He's REALLY nervous and sits down on the vinyl-covered couch in the Green Room. "Do you really want to do this?" I ask again.

"Yes! Stop asking that!"

I kiss him on the lips. He closes his eyes and kisses back, really well, too. We break apart for air. "Whoa! I've never kissed a guy before," he says. "It's different. It's rougher."

"Well, I've never kissed a moustache before; and THAT's what's rougher!" I make a face, and we go back to kissing.

"I don't like it here," he says. "This couch doesn't feel right. I want a bed. Come with me!"

He takes me by the hand and I wonder where he's taking me this time! I see, and smile; and know I've got a fabulous story for the future. In the corner backstage, under the blue running-lights, is Tevye and Golde's bed from the "Dream" sequence in Act One. We jump into the wacky-looking bed, strip off our clothes, and go at it: kissing, touching, rubbing, getting sticky.

Before we finish, I have a vision that as we orgasm a bunch of gay ghosts are gonna appear at the head and foot of the bed, crawl out from underneath, and after a lovely harp glissando they will all break into a chorus of A blessing on your house! Mazel tov! mazel tov! And I pray that the spirit of the fiancee won't appear to curse me for coming all over her future husband.

The next day we had two shows and ASM barely mentioned our one night of love. Sunday we had the afternoon off and the production staff went to the nearby lake and I learned to water ski.

After the Sunday night performance ASM volunteered to lock-up. He asked me to stay behind and help. When everyone else was gone he asked me to come out on the stage with him. He'd turned on all the work lights so the stage was very bright.

"What?" I asked, following him out to the middle of the stage.

"Stay right there," he said positioning me dead center front on the thrust stage. He jumped off the front of the stage, crossed the shallow orchestra pit, and climbed out into the auditorium. He sat down fifth row center, smiled, and said, "Strip!"

Well, as I said at the beginning of this blog, I am a genial fellow, and I obliged. It was one of the hottest, sexiest things I've ever done, too. After I was properly unclothed we switched positions. I went out into the audience and he hopped onstage and stripped.

Let me entertain you, indeed!

Over the next ten days we did just about everything you can imagine. He didn't feel up to being topped - he thought I was too big. Silly boy! But pretty much everything else was tried at least once!

When the show closed he departed for home to prepare for his impending marriage. I never heard from him again and have no idea if he married the girl or not. That was twenty years ago!  OH MY GOD!  How time flies!

It was just about the best sex I've ever had. It was the first time I didn't feel like the newbie, the novice. I was now the expert. It was so uninhibited, so free, so very hot.

And to him, wherever he went, and whatever he chose -

L'chai-im!

David

TURANDOT

Final Design Painting TURANDOT - Act II, Scene 2

A number of you have asked me about my days as a Set Designer and so I thought I'd post a few things.

For my thesis at Yale, where I was getting my MFA, I chose to design Giacomo Puccini's opera TURANDOT. Some of my fellow students thought I was a bit fool-hardy to choose an opera set in China when the head of the design department was the highly respected Chinese/American Set Designer, Ming Cho Lee. Luckily he was pleased with my design and I got my MFA. Oh, I did get into trouble on ONE little thing. The Emperor's hat (in the costume sketch) is from the wrong period based on most of my architecture. I told Ming I'd change the hat.

Below are presented various steps in the design process. The "thesis" design had to include paintings, a 1/4" scale model, full architectural drafting, lighting sketches, and costume designs. We also had to design the set as if for a "real" opera house - so I chose the MET. I also used this project for my "union exam."

Below you will see the initial watercolor sketch for each set followed by a photograph of the 1/4" scale model. For reference a person is only one and a half inches tall.

I began months before by absorbing every note of TURANDOT via CD. I also read everything about the opera that I could. I wanted simple and elegant - not over-the-top Zefferelli. I chose a red-lacquer motif for almost everything. I started out doing quick paintings of the big moment in each act.

First watercolor sketch TURANDOT - Act I


1/4" scale model of TURANDOT - Act I

Act II - scene 1 "Ping, Pang, Pong" trio
For the opening of Act II I wanted the "Ping, Pang, Pong," scene to be intimate and small. It's a lovely little lyrical scene and it contrasts wonderfully with the huge spectacle of the "In Questa Regia," and "Riddle" scenes of Act II - Scene 2. I set the little scene in a small red-lacquered room - just the size for the three-person scene.

First watercolor sketch TURANDOT - Act II, Scene 1

Act II - scene 2 "In Questa Reggia," and "Riddle" scene.
As the first scene ended the little red room appeared to slowly shrink into blackness and just as it completely disappeared it reopened with the the big fanfare of scene 2 revealing the great staircase, emperor, et al.

1/4" scale model of TURANDOT - Act II, Scene 2

Act III - scene 1 "Nessun Dorma" and "Death of Liu" scenes.
A fairly barren scene with the unknown Prince out in the Gardens while he is cajoled, bribed, and threatened into revealing his name. I also like his appearing small and lonely and a little vulnerable among the giant statuary. Often the chorus would enter from upstage as if the garden was at the top of a terrace.

First watercolor sketch TURANDOT - Act III, Scene 1


1/4" scale model of TURANDOT - Act III, Scene 1

Act III- scene 2 "Turandot Guesses Correctly" scene.
We revert to the Act II - Scene 2 set. As imaginary director I also opted to use the full-length Franco Alfano ending. It's wonderful AND it gives me another forty seconds of set change music.

Down below are my costume sketches of the main characters. As a set designer I was not required to go beyond the "sketch" stage for this project.

I hope you've enjoyed this glimpse into David's designing days. Iif the MET calls, I'm their boy! Actually, if ANYBODY calls I'm their boy! If you have any questions about the project, please feel free to ask in the comments section and I'll try to oblige. Thanks for looking.

David

All images, photos, and designs copyright © 2007 by David Maxine. All rights reserved.

When I think of Tom

I discovered a couple months ago that my first love, Tom Ladd, died on January 22, 2006. I found an obituary on-line and it said only that he had died of unknown causes. He was 44. I fell madly in-love with Tom in January 1985, when we were both working at the Guthrie Theatre in Minneapolis. I was 22; Tom was 23. Tom gave me my first real kiss, too. I hadn't seen or communicated with Tom for about twenty years. But I thought about him often and really wanted him to know how my life turned out. Tom was cute; but his magic power was that he just radiated sexual energy. One simply HAD to look at him, his face, his movements, he flirted with everyone, slept with many, and he just oozed sexiness. Here is our story. 

"Anything Goes!" 

In January 1985, I was working as a stagehand at the Guthrie Theater in Minneapolis. On this particular day we were beginning two weeks of "tech" rehearsals for a large-scale production of Cole Porter's ANYTHING GOES! It starred legendary belter Karen Morrow as Reno Sweeney, Steve Hanan as Moonface Martin, Maureen Brennan as Hope, and featured Broadway veteran Justine Johnston as Mrs. Harcourt. Johnston may be best remembered today as "Old Heidi" in the original production of FOLLIES in which she sang "One More Kiss." I was one of about five permanent stagehands - but this production was bigger than anything the Guthrie had ever done - and they had hired an additional ten people to fill out our ranks. On this first day, we had an orientation meeting up in the balcony of the theatre; the stage was a-buzz with saws and screw-guns where the Carpentry Shop was building a three-story ocean liner! I was paying only slight attention when . . . my eyes scanning over the new stagehands when . . . "Who's that boy!" And thus, Cole Porter struck me gay!

Well, maybe I was always gay, but I certainly didn't know it until then. And I didn't know it as an irrefutable aspect of my being for another few weeks. I was twenty-two, I'd never been on a date, I'd never had a girlfriend, and I was waiting for the "magic" to happen when I'd meet the right girl and feel like a grown-up. But really, "Who's that boy!" This was Tom. He was almost exactly a year older than I was. He was about 5' - 8" and 140 pounds. He had sandy brown hair, blue eyes, a stunning smile, and he simply glowed with sexual energy. I know now that I was in love. But at this point, I was probably falling back on a repressed gay-boy's safety-emotion - "I want to BE him" instead of "I want to have sex with him." Over the coming days I discovered that Tom was gay. OH MY GOD! And that did the trick. I had to become gay, too, so I could have him. I didn't say anything about my new feelings; I didn't know how. But I quickly discovered that not only Tom but another couple stagehands were gay, too. As was the entire gang of chorus boys. And this was a Cole Porter show! My soul was suddenly being informed by Porter's double-entendre lyrics, scads of young men in sailor suits dancing their asses off from eight till eleven then changing into t-shirts and jeans so they could go dance at some gay bar called The Saloon in downtown Minneapolis for several hours more. 

"Blow, Gabriel, Blow!" 

During a break in the Green Room one-day, Tom was just beginning to eat a banana when one of the other gay stagehands said, "Is that for practice?" Tom, without batting an eyelash, said, "I dont NEED to practice." And Tom expertly deep-throated the entire banana and slowly pulled it back out. I was speechless, awestruck, and insanely in love. I became a love-sick puppy and followed the poor boy around. Luckily many of our assignments kept us together during the run of the show. One of my favorite moments was during Act II when Tom and I would have to wait in one of the Guthrie's downstage tunnels during the song, "All Through the Night." It's a beautiful song, and all this blue light would spill down the tunnel shaftway, and Tom and I would sit and wait for our cue - sometimes whispering to each other. I was nearing a point when I felt I could say, "Tom, I'm gay, too. I don't know what to do." 

"Break a Leg!" 

On Valentine's Day 1985, after the show had been open for about two weeks, we were presetting the stage about 6:00 PM and someone said that we needed to find a replacement for Tom. My heart stopped. Why isn't Tom gonna be here? In a few moments I heard the dreadful news. Tom had been hit by a car on the way to work that night. He was fine - save a broken leg. But he would not be back to the show. My ticket to homosexual joy was snuffed out by a speeding motorist on Hennepin Avenue. I was appointed by the cast and crew to assemble Tom's "get well" package. Yay!! I knew his favorite candy, drinks, and also added in the SUNDAY IN THE PARK WITH GEORGE cast album. I visited him in the hospital a couple times. Then he went away to recuperate. Tom did make it back to work the last few weeks of the show as ANYTHING GOES! proved so popular the run was extended. On Memorial Day 1985, I went home with him to talk and have a drink. I desperately wanted to sleep with him. Tom felt it was a bad idea - since I was so clearly in love with him - and for him it would just be sex. But he walked me part way home and gave me my first boy-kiss. I always thought it was a cliché about floating on air. It isn't! I wouldn't brush my teeth that night, either. I didn't want to lose even a molecule of Tom from my mouth. 

"But if, baby, I'm the bottom, you're the top!" 

About a year after we initially met, Tom and I finally had sex for the first and only time. It was okay. It simply meant too much to me - and not enough to him. I was so scared that it be wonderful that I made it mediocre. But he was glorious naked. He had arguably the most beautiful penis I have ever seen! Tom wanted to screw me but we didn't have any condoms and I wouldn't let him. God he was hard to turn down that night! I wanted him SO much. But I was a very good boy. 

"It's Delightful, it's Delicious, it's Delovely!" 

So I've now known I was gay for twenty-one years - slightly less than half my life. You know, I had an incredibly painless coming out. My family was cool with it. Within a year I would meet Eric, my lover, whom I've been with for a little over seventeen years. Eric's family is fine with everything, too. I wish I had tracked down Tom so I could tell him how I turned out. I miss him. I remember signing in on the Guthrie Theatre's call-board and suddenly Tom appeared, put his hands around my waist and said, "Hi, sailor, can I buy you a drink after the show?" Instant hard-on time, instant adrenaline rush, instant puppy love. 

Tom and I both loved musicals, too. He was jealous I'd just seen SUNDAY IN THE PARK WITH GEORGE. We both jokingly talked about how we could have "saved" MERRILY WE ROLL ALONG. Tom introduced me to Carly Simon's TORCH album which had a stunning version of "Not a Day Goes By" on it. He introduced me to the the cast albums of BABY and LITTLE SHOP. I remember Tom's 24th birthday party and how he wore this incredible football jersey he had gotten from a previous boyfriend whose last name was Savage and whose number was 69. The very real football jersey said "Savage 69" on it. It was the hottest "get laid" clothing I ever saw! 

After ANYTHING GOES! Tom got a job as manager of the Uptown Theatre in Minneapolis. The Uptown was an independent movie/art house/revival house sort of theatre. Eventually he moved back to Chicago and we lost touch. Tom and I wouldn't have worked out. I was freshly out, a virgin when we met. Tom had been fuckin' like a bunny since he was sixteen when he'd been picked up by an old man of thirty-five at the supermarket. But I joked to him that someday, in twenty or thirty years, he'd be tired of screwing boys and he'd come to me like Frederick to Desiree in A LITTLE NIGHT MUSIC. He laughed and said it sounded great! It was a fun fantasy. 

I always look for personal angles into songs and music I love. In "Hello, Young Lovers," from THE KING AND I, in which Anna is singing of her past, she begins the song with the line, "When I think of Tom . . ." and continues to tell of her memories and past love as she watches and sings "hello" to the newer, younger lovers. It's a melancholy song, full of ennui, full of love, full of gratitude and regret. "When I think of Tom . . ."

GRAMMY AWARDS and Me

Over the river, and through the woods ...
... to the GRAMMY AWARDS we go!

When I was a kid, I often fantasized about being famous and winning awards. I do not mean the spelling bee, either! I was certain one-day I'd have an Oscar, a Tony Award, or an Emmy Award. As I got a little older, PERHAPS I even fantasized about winning a Pulitzer or Nobel Prize! Yet I never even remotely imagined I would be nominated for a GRAMMY AWARD. Well, fate showed me.

But wait, there's a little back-story to fill in …

As some of you know, I have loved L. Frank Baum's Oz books since I was in the Second Grade. I've worked in and love musical theatre, and I have a passion for old recordings, really old recordings from the early 1900s. All of these various interests coalesced in the late 1990s when I started doing research on the long-forgotten 1903 Broadway musical version of The Wizard of Oz.

The Wizard of Oz is one of the best-loved fairy tales and one of the best-loved films of all time. Yet few people know that the Scarecrow and Tin Woodman attained fame in a hit Broadway musical in 1903. The show was legendary for its success and its impact on American culture. It made Oz, Dorothy Gale, the Scarecrow, and the Tin Woodman household names.

The show opened on Broadway at the Majestic Theater in New York on January 21, 1903. The show toured, came back to New York, toured, and returned to New York again many times until finally disbanding around 1911. Stock and amateur companies continued to present it into the 1930s when it was overshadowed by the classic MGM film of The Wizard of Oz starring Judy Garland which featured a new score.

To cut a long story short, I began a project to collect all of the old recordings I could find from the show: 78s, wax cylinders, piano rolls, music-box discs, as well as photos, newspaper clippings, etc. In 2003 (a hundred years after the show originally opened!) I produced a 2 CD set of said recordings with two picture-filled booklets.

Me and my 1906 Edison Home Phonograph.

I was very proud of my work on the project. A theater friend of mine in New York said, "You must make sure this CD is submitted to the GRAMMY Awards." I thought, "Yah, right…" But then another friend in New York said the same thing. And then my boyfriend started in on me! So I finally broke down and made sure the CD was submitted for consideration.

A month or so goes by, the GRAMMY nominations come out, and lo and behold:

Nominated for "Best Historical Album"
Vintage Recordings from the 1903 Broadway Musical
THE WIZARD OF OZ
Producer: David Maxine

I don't remember literally "pinching myself" but it was definitely one of those moments. So what happens when you're nominated for a GRAMMY Award? Well, you start getting mail from the National Academy of Recording Arts and Sciences, friends start congratulating you. And eventually you get to go to the GRAMMY Awards!

So I bought a tux. My BF rented a tux. And off we went. The night before the Awards were handed out there was a "Nominees" reception where we were given delightful things to eat and drink. They also presented the nominees with their GRAMMY Medallions! All of the nominees get them! It is a brass medal on a blue silk ribbon. It's very spiffy. They also take our "Official" GRAMMY portrait.

My CD and my GRAMMY Medallion!

The bulk of the awards are given out in a "pre-telecast" ceremony. There are about 125 GRAMMYs given each year; and only about a dozen are presented on the air. My boyfriend's parents came down for the awards, too. Mom-in-Law was kind of excited to see several members of Chanticleer a few seats away.

Well, my category finally came up and alas my GRAMMY went to "Martin Scorsese's THE BLUES" which I suspected it would. After my loss at the pre-show we headed over to the Staples Center in Los Angeles to attend the telecast part of the GRAMMYs. After the telecast we went to the big GRAMMY part at the Beverly-Wilshire Hotel, ate lots, drank lots, picked up our "goody-bags" and it was over.

Me in my Tux at the GRAMMY telecast.

I really do wish I'd won. I REALLY want one of those little phonograph-shaped awards! Maybe next time. And in closing I offer a shameless bit of self-promotion. Should you be interested in purchasing the CD set, it is available from Amazon.com or directly from the Hungry Tiger Press website.

Click here to take a look at the CD
and listen to sound clips!

Thanks for reading,
David

---

Ever wonder who actually votes on these award shows? Well, one of them is now me! As a nominee, I was offered membership in the Academy. Now I get to vote for the GRAMMYs each winter!

When you talk about this blog late, and you will, be kind.

Copyright 2006, 2007 by D. H. Maxine.

Mom had sex with Colonel Klink

All right, my mom never had sex with Colonel Klink -- but she did have a summer-stock affair with actor Werner Klemperer back in the late 1940s. Klemperer went on to play Colonel Klink on HOGAN'S HEROES - the 1960's television show set in a Nazi-run POW camp. My mom did not watch the show - she was offended by the whole idea of making light of Nazism. However, I loved telling neighborhood kids that my mom "dated" Colonel Klink; and also telling them that she "dated" Jack Klugman, Oscar on THE ODD COUPLE. She also "dated" Jerry Orbach - but I didn't know who he was at the time I was bragging to my pre-pubescent pals about my Mom's sexual conquests back in the day.

This little tidbit of arcane family lore is offered up primarily to show that I did not come from an average family. My parents were a good deal older that most of my friend's parents. When I was born my Mom was 38 and my Dad was 44.

My Mom grew up in a Methodist Democrat family in Texas during the depression; and when she turned nineteen she moved to New York to become an actress. This was 1943. She spent the next fourteen years in the theatre (mostly stage managing and sometimes directing) and working in film and photography. She also spent seven years in psychoanalysis. She met my Dad in 1946 or 47 while they were both working on the Henry Wallace Caravans. They were in a relationship for about a year. They broke-up because my Mom wasn't ready to get married, and my Dad was. They didn't see each other for ten years. In 1958 my Mom felt she was ready to get married, she called up my Dad and asked if he was still interested, and they were married. I was born four years later.

My parents were very unusual. They were deeply political, deeply spiritual (though not terribly religious) and both were very well-read. My Dad only graduated from high school; he hated structured education. He was quite brilliant in many ways. Mom went back to college after I was born and went on to get her doctorate. My parents were very involved in the civil rights movement, feminism, they were "radicals" who thought "liberal" was an insult. They both cared about our country more than almost anyone I've ever met.

This just seemed like the normal American family to me. But it seems many kids didn't grow up in this wacky, progressive, politically-infused, sexually frank, over-educated, semi-socialist stew pot. By the time I was thirteen I had met George McGovern, and Ted Kennedy. Mom had been tear-gassed. I'd met German philosopher Herbert Marcuse (his favorite American TV show was MANNIX, in case any scholars need to know!) And we have home-movies of Joan Baez. Our house was always filled with peace-niks, hippies, and lesbians.

Does anyone wonder how I wound up like this?

In 1984, just before I came-out (to both myself and the world) I was working as a Production Assistant at the Guthrie Theatre in Minneapolis. One show I was assigned to was Director Peter Sellers' HANG ON TO ME - a mish-mash of Maxim Gorky's SUMMERFOLK with two dozen Gershwin songs added in. It was fabulous! It was five hours long, but it was FABULOUS! Werner Klemperer was in the cast. So now I knew him, too - but not as well as my Mom did! The Guthrie Theater had a bar for the staff and a couple times my Mom came in and had drinks with Werner. It was really interesting seeing the two of them relate, seeing a part of her youth bubble to the top as she and Werner drank and told stories.

That is now over twenty years ago. Werner Klemperer, and both of my parents, are gone. It's over fifty years since my mom and Herr Klemperer made hay in a summer-stock barn in Arden, Delaware. And I'm still using her affair with Werner Klemperer as a social introduction to make friends and break the ice.

Be careful what you tell your children!

David

When you talk about this blog later, and you will - be kind.

Copyright 2006 D. H. Maxine.
All rights reserved.