Middlebury Radio Theater

On the off chance that anyone has interest, I present a sleepy, work-addled reflection on this week’s show.

I think this was one of our more harebrained (in a good way) weeks in some ways. Auditions went as auditions do, particularly for “B” scripts. For those unfamiliar with the ways and gambols of MrTots production, auditions are a Wednesday evening venture, often fraught with interruptions, silly voices not pertinent to the characters being read, and endless riffing on the more bizarre audition lines. This Wednesday, our humors on the breezy side, we got to debate altering the dynamic of the wholesome heterosexual couple in one script even as we shrugged at a glancing reference to “‘net hos.” You know. Whatever.

Friday rehearsal started early to get through “Escape,” then nudged other run-throughs aside so we could record the ill-fated adaptation of Frankenstein. Egads! Our usual rhythm was broken (even if a glorious edited production will soon be available for download), but one questions any supposition that we have a “usual rhythm” smoother than “zippy halting.” So we just zippily halt along, and one way or another find ourselves on the darker side of 9 pm on Saturday night, and that’s the best.

When we got into the studio this evening, we were all set to do our “B” scripts and Dave’s original piece, upsets, changes, and necessary late arrivals notwithstanding. Okay, maybe it showed a little in the pre-show conversations (Aviva’s dreams are the stuff of legend now), maybe in our little not-so-rookie rookie goofs, also possibly in the random technical difficulties that cropped up between pieces. Maybe not, though, since that stuff always happens. Off mic, we were unusually casual. I’ve been trying to put my finger on what made the whole production week feel so “harebrained,” and I think that’s really it. It was an extremely casual version of the usual behind-the-scenes wackiness (often supplemented by a good dose of “Goldfinger” as sung by Shirley Bassey/Derek Long). Normally, we’re running around like a bunch of new-hatched baby spiders on speed . . . and believe me, I thought about that simile. Tonight, there was a little happy yelling, and there were a few jokes that you would put in the locker room if you weren’t already banned because you do radio drama, but all in all, quiet. Relaxed.

A nod to Andrew, Dave, and Kofi, our frenetically-charged directors for this show; because of them, the quiet-therefore-harebrained broadcast went beautifully. An old hand like me ought to know by now whether or not a show went well, and there was some damn fine acting in our modest performances this Saturday before Thanksgiving. Can’t wait to hear it all on podcast.