ROANOKE TIMES 
                      Copyright (c) 1996, Roanoke Times

DATE: Thursday, August 15, 1996              TAG: 9608150026
SECTION: EXTRA                    PAGE: 1    EDITION: METRO 
COLUMN: Off the Clock
SOURCE: CHRIS HENSON


FOOTLIGHTS CALL OUT TO REGULAR FOLKS

I don't think there's anyone in the world who hasn't thought about being an actor at some time or another. We all want to deliver the punch line as the lights go down. Or the soliloquy that starts the tears flowing.

Maybe it's fame and fortune we want. The roar of the grease paint and the smell of the crowd. Or whatever.

But few of us seem to get beyond playing a radish in our second-grade food pageant. Fear of embarrassment or stage fright keeps us from ever getting our Actor's Guild cards.

But then there are people like Susan Widdowson, Ryan McClung and Andrea Mattioni. They're all a part of Neil Simon's musical "Sweet Charity," playing this weekend at Showtimers. They've answered the call of the stage, and while they haven't hit the big time yet, they are having a blast.

Community theater is an act of love. That's what they'll tell you. Applause is the only paycheck they get. And that's plenty.

They're always looking for recruits, too. So when I asked Annabelle Sullivan if I could hang out backstage during a recent performance, she told me to be sure and wear all black, in case they needed a stagehand.

I thought she was kidding.

"I can't sing very well," Susan Widdowson says just before the show begins. She's putting props in place and keeping her voice low as the audience is seated. "I've acted in two previous plays. ... So I thought I should just relax and enjoy this production. They asked me to do props, and I said `How hard can that be?' I have stayed busier back here than ever."

Susan has always wanted to try acting. When a friend told her about "Dracula," she auditioned and won the part of Wilhemina. "I was really phobic about it," she says. "So at the end of the first week, I had the entire show memorized - and not just my part, but everybody's. The thing about that play was that I wound up doing a lot of things I never thought I would do onstage

Working props is different, she says. You have more responsibility than just memorizing your lines in the right order. Especially in a show like this with a huge cast. There are fake frozen treats and funny money to keep track of for Andrea Mattioni, who plays an ice cream vendor. Vittorio, played by Showtimers regular Michael Mansfield, is going to need his top hat and cane at some point.

And the bedroom, restaurant and elevator must be assembled during the incidental music. "Now that I've done it and jumped off the edge, I'm not afraid of it," Susan says. "I've learned that no matter how big your role is, you have to be real appreciative of the people back here."

There are plenty of people back here - a constant swarm of actors and costumers buzzing in the stage's tiny wings.

"Having a huge cast means there's lots of help moving the bigger stuff," says Paula Kopera, who is in charge of "the traveler," a curtain that closes off the back of the stage. "They really do hustle."

Just as the young actors have to overcome stage fright as the lights come up, members of the stage crew have their own demons to wrestle. "When they asked me to do props," says Susan, ``I said, `OK, but there is one thing I will absolutely not do. I won't wear that!''' She points to a coil of wire on the floor that leads to a personal intercom that is connected to the director and stage manager. "That's the dreaded headset. Which means I'm like the air traffic controller. ... It terrifies me. I got suckered into wearing it." She's used to it now.

The nice thing about community theater is the learning experience. If you don't know how to focus lights or handle a curtain, someone will teach you. "Like on opening night of this show," Susan whispers, while on stage the showgirls are singing "Hey, Big Spender." "One fellow who was helping with the props was just so nervous! I pulled him aside and said, 'Listen ... what's the worst thing that can happen? The absolute worst thing is that you could die. There's really no way you can kill yourself working props, right?' We have had a few glitches, but nothing serious."

"The folks who put on these shows are just regular people," says Showtimers president Carol Galvin. "Some have college training, some haven't acted since grade school. They're teachers, nurses, students ... everybody. So we try to pick shows that will be crowd-pleasing and also challenging for the actors."

"Sweet Charity" is a lively musical comedy that features tunes you'll recognize. It's your basic girl meets and loses several boys before finding Mr. Right in an elevator. Backstage Paula, Ryan and Susan lip-sync and dance to every song in between the rapid-fire set changes.

About halfway through the first act, Ryan tells me I'm going to be helping him move the boxes out to create the elevator. No, I say. I can't. There are people watching. "It's no big deal," he says. "It's fun."

A few minutes later, Paula stops by to say, "I think it's great you're going to help Ryan with the elevator. That really is the hardest part of the show."

"But...'' I stammer. "I really shouldn't." I go to Susan (after all, she's the one with the headset) and explain that I can't handle the responsibility. What if I mess something up? What if people want their money back?

Susan looks me in the eye. "Chris," she says, "What's the worst thing that could happen?"

Next thing I know, I'm helping Ryan assemble an impressionistic elevator out of a rolling pallet and some wooden boxes.

We finish quickly and the action on stage moves to the elevator. Ryan grabs me. "Watch this, this is good stuff!" he says, as Charity, played by Star Trompeter, and Oscar, played by Paula's husband, Ralph, get stuck inside. Oscar is claustrophobic. He sings about it. "Don't worry," Ryan says. "They get out of it."

Soon, the cast of "Sweet Charity" is cranking up for the big finish, where everyone joins in to sign "If They Could See Me Now."

And that's the best thing about community theater. Their friends can see them now ... and tomorrow night ... and any time the curtain rises.


LENGTH: Long  :  105 lines





















by CNB