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Publication Date: Wednesday, April 06, 2005 Cover story: Raising the roof -- Portola Valley Theatre Conservatory bounds back from a hiatus with new kids' classes and a production of 'Fiddler on the Roof'
Cover story: Raising the roof -- Portola Valley Theatre Conservatory bounds back from a hiatus with new kids' classes and a production of 'Fiddler on the Roof'
(April 06, 2005)
By Rebecca Wallace
Almanac Staff Writer
Cheryl Goodman-Morris briskly lifts a giant pad of paper onto an easel and rallies the troops around her. Sporting a baseball cap and a serious expression, she points to elaborate diagrams and reminds everyone where to go and when.
Is this calling plays or directing a play? Well, it's doubtful many football coaches have Magic Marker scribbles representing a rabbi, a fiddler and a stampede of Russian soldiers.
When you've got a cast of 53, pulling together a production of "Fiddler on the Roof" can be as much about logistics as it is about things artistic. Which means Ms. Goodman-Morris and her co-director, Hunt Burdick, do a lot of planning before rehearsals, mapping out the easiest way to get people from stage right to left.
For all the challenges, a large cast is a joy for the Portola Valley Theatre Conservatory. It shows that the group, after a three-year hiatus, is back -- and back with a robust spirit.
The group is based at Valley Presbyterian Church at 945 Portola Road, where Ms. Goodman-Morris plays dual roles: executive director of the conservatory and a minister in the church.
Many Valley Presbyterian members are in "Fiddler," including Cheryl's husband, Mark Goodman-Morris, the church's pastor and the cast's rabbi. The conservatory, though, does not have a religious affiliation and is open to everyone.
Under the group's umbrella is the Portola Valley Children's Theatre Conservatory, which also restarted last fall with classes for kids.
Ms. Goodman-Morris, who has directed plays for more than 25 years, created the nonprofit in the early 1990s as arts funding was dwindling in schools. The classes burgeoned, and the conservatory put on several shows with adults and children, including "Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat" and "The Music Man."
"Things hummed. It was pretty full, pretty busy," she recalls.
By about three years ago, though, people were running out of steam. Conservatory teachers went back to school or left for other jobs, and Ms. Goodman-Morris had new church responsibilities. So the group took an extended intermission.
That's until new blood arrived in the form of Naomi Kinsman, a 27-year-old church member, teacher and actor. She helped revive the group and is now artistic director of the children's conservatory. She also plays Tzeitel, the eldest daughter of the lead character Tevye, in "Fiddler."
There are plenty of theater pros in "Fiddler." Tenor Don Gustafson, a former opera singer, plays Tevye, and dramatic soprano and veteran performer Anne Hubble is Tevye's wife, Golde.
But this is also community theater in the true sense. No one got cut at auditions, and the production has attracted even hesitant folks who only wanted a small role, such as Portola Valley resident Elaine Taylor Jungleib.
"The last show I did was in 1975," she says in the back of the theater, the hexagonal Lane Family Hall behind the church sanctuary. Nibbling a sandwich, she's watching the rest of the cast sing "Tradition" and waiting for her entrance as a Russian priest.
"I'm kind of terrified to sing in public," Ms. Taylor Jungleib admits. But she says the directors have given her confidence.
Besides a self-esteem boost, theater also provides quality time with her daughter Claire, who plays a village girl. "We thought it'd be fun to do it together," she says. "It's not just a church thing. It's really reaching out to everyone in the community."
The "Fiddler" gang has done quite a bit of reaching out already. Although the show doesn't open until April 8, it was sold out before the end of March.
It may still be possible to attend a dress rehearsal, Ms. Goodman-Morris says. For more information, call 851-8282, extension 104.
A singing stitcher
What does it take to coordinate a huge show? For starters, a thick calendar.
Since mid-January, when rehearsals began, schedules have been busy. There are afternoons and evenings focusing on acting, dancing, singing and blocking (planning out the movements on stage). The brave souls who dance with bottles on their heads in the wedding scene get special rehearsals.
By March 1, the actors must be "off book," no longer allowed to bring their scripts on stage. Scenes are practiced separately and then pieced together. By mid-March the cast is running whole acts, and the third week of March marks the first full run-through of the show.
What's happening on stage is only part of the picture. Costumes are being stitched, sets designed, lights hung, press releases sent out and tickets sold. Wherever there's a need, people pitch in with a little bit of this, a little bit of that.
Susan Chermak plays one of the village "mamas" but is also known for her way with a sewing machine. She assists the costumer, Marilee Saier, who has researched what to wear in the early 20th century Russian village of Anatevka, where the show takes place.
The actors are expected to provide most pieces of their own costumes, such as long skirts, aprons and vests. But some need help.
"I'm sewing right now," Ms. Chermak says when phoned at home for an interview. "A head scarf for one of the girls. Not everybody knows how to thread a needle."
Ms. Chermak has sewn garments for shows for years, including the conservatory's 2001 production of "Grease." This time she's called upon to make Russian priests' hats, shorten boys' pants, and fashion an enormous dress for the ghostly Fruma Sarah, who swirls around on a wooden cart that makes her 8 feet tall.
Why did Ms. Chermak decide to appear on stage this time? "I just thought I'd give it a try," she says. "If I didn't try, I'd never know."
Dress code: mixed
Raf Ornes, the show's music director, is scratching his head.
He has told the rehearsal pianist to stop playing "Tradition," and the entire cast is on stage looking down at Mr. Ornes expectantly. He frowns. Then he mumbles the question asked by "Fiddler" casts everywhere: "How did we do the 'horse-mule' thing?"
It's a delightfully silly -- and tricky -- moment in the music in which the entire village gets into an argument over what animal one villager sold to another, finally shouting back and forth: "Horse! Mule! HORSE! MULE!" Everyone must then segue neatly into the chorus of "Tradition."
The cast wrestles with the number, and the small stage bursts with debate. The boys who had been squirming during the stately wedding scene practiced earlier in the day are now having a blast.
There hasn't been a formal dress rehearsal yet, so on this Saturday in March the dress code is decidedly mixed: head scarves and Stanford sweatshirts, sneakers and laced-up boots. Tevye has a ponytail and jeans.
While the cast runs the number again, there's a hiccup in the music, and Mr. Ornes and pianist Al Wegener playfully spar over where in the tune they are. "No, no, Al. We were on the transition," Mr. Ornes says, then sings, "Transition!"
Later, there's another hold-up: the pianist is also in the cast as the village constable. He sprints on stage while Mr. Ornes obligingly takes over at the piano. Meanwhile, Shamus, a dog owned by costumer Ms. Saier and her family, runs around the audience, dodging water bottles and forgotten head scarves.
The canine's not the only busy one in the family, whose members belong to the church and have been active in many conservatory shows. Marilee's husband, Hans, is doing sets, lights and props for "Fiddler." Their son Drew plays the young Russian Fyedka, while son Scott plays a boy named John and daughter Lindsay is a village dancer.
Watching from the audience, Hans Saier says he enjoys working on shows here because people are so friendly: "We really don't have attitudes."
Mr. Saier muses aloud about his to-do list: build a roof for the fiddler, blacklight the stage during the spooky dream scene.
The wedding scene earlier that day reminded him of something else. Four men were set to bring in the wedding canopy, but as yet there were no poles and no canopy. So they improvised, solemnly carrying in large mops.
Mr. Saier chuckles. "While that was happening, I was outside cutting redwood for the poles. I went into the grove and found some wood."
A story for all time
A member of a Presbyterian church wouldn't typically know what kind of poles are used to hold up a Jewish wedding canopy. But Mr. Saier, and everyone else involved with "Fiddler on the Roof," got some expert advice.
The conservatory staff brought in Jewish storyteller and author Joel ben Izzy to tell stories and speak about what life would have been like in the village. It was a hard life, with poverty and pogroms, but there was also the warmth of family and cherished traditions.
Co-director Ms. Goodman-Morris said the session emphasized one of the play's most valuable themes: "There can be sweet moments that you can savor in the midst of tragedy and despair."
The storyteller also offered pointers on pronouncing Yiddish words, Ms. Goodman-Morris recalls with a laugh: "We're calling ourselves hopeless Gentiles."
The play also resonated with her because of another tragically timeless theme: devastation wreaked by bigotry. At the end of "Fiddler," the entire Jewish population of Anatevka is banished, blown to the four winds by an official edict.
That's why the conservatory has chosen to donate half of the production's proceeds to Habitat for Humanity. The other half will go to the children's conservatory.
It's a perfect match, actor and seamstress Ms. Chermak says: people still lose their homes to ethnic warfare and poverty, and Habitat for Humanity builds homes for the needy.
"We're relating the story itself to the situation in the world," she says.
INFORMATION
The Portola Valley Theatre Conservatory's production of "Fiddler on the Roof," which runs April 8-17, is sold out. But it may still be possible to attend a dress rehearsal. For more information, call 851-8282, extension 104.
Kids on stage gain confidence and presence, teacher says
By Rebecca Wallace
Almanac Staff Writer
The last thing middle-school girls want is to be different from the pack. But by the end of a class at the Portola Valley Children's Theatre Conservatory some of them are singing, strutting stand-outs.
That's why Naomi Kinsman, artistic director of the conservatory, loves connecting young people and theater. She says kids on stage become more confident and articulate, which is especially good for middle-schoolers.
"That's an age at which girls really need that affirmation, that it's OK to take a risk in a safe situation," she says.
A graduate of Seattle Pacific University, Ms. Kinsman has worked in children's theater in Oregon and most recently with the Piven Theatre Workshop in Chicago. So taking the helm of the conservatory was a dream come true.
"A lot of actors teach children, but it's just because they want something to do during the day," she says. "My passion is teaching."
At the conservatory, which started again last fall after a hiatus, theater classes are offered for kids from age 3 through middle school. Younger kids don costumes and act out stories read to them or tales they write. They learn to create a character and gain stage presence.
Older students are more advanced, working on improvisation and staging a full play. This spring, middle-schoolers will put on a children's version of "The Tempest."
Summer theater camps will come out of the wings as well, with students handling scripts adapted by the Children's Theatre Company in Minneapolis. Second- to fifth-graders will perform "Alice's Adventures in Wonderland" in July, and sixth- to eighth-graders will put on "Sherlock Holmes & the Baker St. Irregulars" in August. For more information, call 851-8282, extension 411.
With plays giving glimpses into other worlds and lives, Ms. Kinsman says children's minds open and grow.
"They learn about loving to read and loving to get up in front of people and perform, but they also learn about people and the kind of person they want to be," she says. "I've seen a lot of kids become better people."
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