Serendipity, City Slickers and a Festival of Cringe

I got a mention in Broadway World for my work in last month's CringeFest!

OK, so it's only three neutral words, BUT they listed me and two other "regulars" out of nine entr'acte performers in the festival. And I wasn't really even regular (Metamucil jokes, anybody?).

In fact, I was called in at the last minute to sub for a true regular whom I'd met briefly months before at a stand-up show.

In late July, I got an intriguing email asking for "fun local performers ... to be part of [CringeFest] by doing entr'actes during intermission, and we were hoping that you would be interested."

"These entr'actes," the letter continued, "are just as important and beloved as the plays."

And what was CringeFest? "...[A] series of original bad films, bad plays, and bad musicals [which] aren't actually bad, but are good and hilarious works that are: irreverent, politically incorrect, political satire and just plain naughty."

How could I say no?

It was clear that they'd wanted standup, but I had a different idea.....

A few weeks before, I did tech for Dalia Carella's Salon Performance, which included a hysterically funny bellydance number called Miss Manners Has a Meltdown.

YES. BELLYDANCE CAN BE FUNNY.

It has a delicious vocabulary of pops, locks, bumps and body bulges that can easily translate to slapstick.

And what better music for slapstick than Spike Jones?

Only a few days before getting the CringeFest email, I'd been listening to my daily Jones and Cocktails for Two -- the City Slickers' biggest hit -- made my inner-goofball bounce.

And I had the perfect costume -- the elegant, long, silver one I bought for the Egyptian Academy show: If Ginger Rogers bellydanced, she would have worn that costume.

So I show up for my first performance. No one has any idea what to expect. I give the booth my iPod and tell them to start the music when I drop my veil.

Clearly the music isn't Middle Eastern, but it's not comedic either -- yet!

Rather, it starts with a serious, 40's-style orchestral swell, and I danced accordingly, with grace, elegance and a beautiful silk fan, for a full 50 seconds into a final glissando -- which I milked like a cow in heat.

And then it takes off!!

I caught every bizarre sound effect with parts of my body that aren't supposed to move. And then I really got wild.

The audience went nuts! They cheered and laughed at the sheer insane novelty of it.

Sadly, I don't have a video, but fear not! Dalia has asked me to reprise it for her upcoming benefit, so stay tuned!!

February 2008 Performance Archive

I only did one public show this month:

Badawiyat, which The Dalia Carella Dance Collective premiered last year through Dance New Amsterdam's Performance Project.

Remounted as part of The Field's modern dance performance showcase, Fielday at
PS 122 on

Sunday, February 17 @ 7pm

PS 122

150 First Ave. at E. 9th St

212-477-5288

It will be remounted again at LaMama in late May, although their smaller space will only allow for six (smaller) dancers, and I will not be a part of it, though I'll definitely be there to cheer them on!

Blogging Badawiyat and Beyond

Oh the pain!!!

Don't get me wrong, though -- the performance at P.S. 122 went well -- really well -- so much so that the good people at LaMama have asked the Collective for a reprise at their space in May.

BUT... I suppose there is always a tinge of bad with the good.

I haven't seen the video yet, but as far as I could tell, we started off fine... all in synch and in stoic Bedouin character.

And then came the veils.

Let me tell you a little about the veils......

Now, these are beautiful veils, and a huge part of Dalia's vision for the piece, as we sweep from a stoic debke line into the piece's sandstorm climax.

As you might expect, they are a deep, sandy gold, made of heavy poly-silk, which drapes beautifully and glows in stagelight.

And they are long. Long, long long. Mine was the longest, at over 4 yards. The shortest was just under 3.5 yards.

We start sans veils -- very stern, lean and mean.

About two minutes in, the group of eight splits, with my half exiting as the others hip-twist forward.

My group returns, ritualistically draped in our veils (sorry, I can't show you a pic of that here... these photos are from the DNA performance in October '07).

Anyway. We cross forward and split to the four corners of the stage.

Now, bear in mind, it looks like the veils are draped very simply over us, so we look like a bunch of sandy ghosts, but in fact they are slyly tucked into the backs of our dance pants so at the right cue -- woosh!

The veils go up, forming a sail behind us. This looks especially nice when you spin.

So, while I'm there spinning my little head off, I feel something at my feet. Of course I can't look down. But I feel a tug at the veil in my hand.

Ack!

During the first cross, my veil came untucked from my pants and was dragging on the floor behind me, completely ruining the effect of the sail!!

And what killed me was that, in all the rehearsals and performances, I have never had a problem with my veil. In fact, I think this whole sail-veil thing may have been my idea!

So my pertard was firmly hoist (and, no, a petard is not a sail or other nautical device... it's actually a bomb -- no kidding!).

But I didn't look down, and I didn't trip. I just went on as normal for the minute or so that the section lasted, and then leaned waaaaaaay back, as far as I could, so Yowalka could grab the veil -- as planned -- with a spectacular flourish.

Beautiful, huh?

Anyway. The people I spoke to after the show said it looked all right. It helped that I kept on going, which is the most you can expect from anyone in a prop/wardrobe malfunction situation.

And sometimes it is exactly the malfunction that shows just how professional you can be.

Feeling my pain, a friend sent me this hysterical clip of the unforgettable Anita Morris. Keep your eyes on her little skirt -- especially around 2:41.

Yes, she was a goddess -- and a great inspiration to us all!!!