Ranting Details

M&M Take Manhattan

Michael Lowney and I tried to start a jump-roping club on the first grade playground at Paxson Elementary.  We were going to charge people some exorbitant fee (was it $25?) to basically stand by us and whip a rope around their heads during recess.  Needless to say...it didn't take off.  But a few of our far fetched dreams from first grade are becoming a reality.  Sixteen years after we first met, Michael is moving to the playground known as New York City. 

It's literally impossible for me to remember how we became best friends; we just were.  I was a bowl-cut sporting transplant from Los Angeles, and he was a Missoulian from down the block who rocked a lisp as confidently as I walked around in bright purple Converse. The universe decided that was a brilliant combination and before I knew it we were locker buddies.  Soon after, our collaborations began. 

It started as an afternoon playing “Aladdin” with our friend Libby Zinke.  She would soon get the boot, but for the time being she was the Jasmine to my Aladdin; Michael played Raja… the tiger.  (I swear I wasn't the bossy one.)  Yet regardless of what role we were playing, something just felt right. 

Paxson Elementary was good to us, but after a year it was time for my family to move out of the school district and Michael and I were torn apart.  Somehow, the change of schools did nothing but bring our friendship closer together. 

Weekends were no longer Saturday and Sunday, but MattMichael Theater days.  The doorbell would ring, and we would fly down the basement stairs.  Blankets became wings that we duct-taped to the ceiling and the boom box was our portable orchestra pit.  The space may have been small, but to Michael and me we were already on Broadway.  From that point on, New York seemed inevitable. 

The years passed, and furniture that once supported our bodies began to creak.  Walls closed in around us like a taut Chinese finger trap and our voices couldn’t sing the parts quite like they used to.  The MattMichael Theater shut its doors on the eve of our thirteenth birthdays.  Until then life had been a constant creative exploration and as the self-consciousness that comes with puberty suddenly cradled us in its arm, we looked at each other and questioned what was next. 

Fortunately, there was a video camera nearby.  Our microscopic theater suddenly opened up and we could run around the neighborhood creating soap operas or murder mysteries that kept our creative energy going.  We got less greedy about the parts, and even let in a few other friends to help balance the raging testosterone “films.” 

Before I knew it, North Carolina School of the Arts beckoned and the change of schools was a bit wider than a school district.  As Southern humidity replaced dry Montana, it became apparent that nothing would ever replace Michael.  Not being able to experience high school with him was painful, but any moment I returned home it was as if I’d just waved goodbye the night before.  Before long, high school was over and Michael moved on to Michigan as I made a home for myself in New York. 

Ann Arbor became a welcome respite from the draining pace of the city.  From my very first visit three years ago, I felt like an adopted member of the class.  So as I sat in the audience at yesterday’s University of Michigan Senior Musical Theater Showcase (with all of New York’s agents in attendance) I was a bit emotional.

(Michael (sitting on the floor) with members of the UMich class of '08.)

All of my friends have evolved so much in the past three years.  Timid was never a word I associated with them, but they took the stage yesterday with such confidence and grace that it made their past selves look timid in comparison.  Standing in the center was Michael, my first grade buddy.  The jeans were tighter, the muscles bigger, and the lisp was no more, but to me he was the same person he was sixteen years ago: a person that inspires me.   

A few minutes into the program, Michael took the stage with two other friends of mine, Derek Krantz, and Garen McRoberts for the fantastic number “Leading Men Don’t Dance.”  Sitting beside my sister, I could feel both of us reminiscing about the gangly, clumsy Michael from the basement.  Effortless notes escaped from his mouth, and I watched as all of the agents around me scanned his headshot and resume.  The number progressed and he delivered the line: “What do you think we are, the corps de ballet?”  His eyes caught mine for a moment and I thought to myself, “My god, we’re here.”  I can’t help but wonder- is it time to start the jump rope club again?

(Trying to look glam with the beauties Lauren, Jess and Michael, after the show yesterday.)

A Little Video Gushing

Anyone who has been reading the Rant for a while knows that I tend to gush when it comes to my friends at University of Michigan.  With graduation just around the corner, I couldn't be more proud or excited that they are making the journey to New York in May.  Until then, I have a few YouTube videos that were just posted to tide me over. 

First up are two of my best friends, Michael Lowney and Jessica Hershberg, singing the glorious duet "Say It Somehow" from one of my favorite musicals The Light in the Piazza. 

Next is Max Kumungai singing "Muddy Water" from Big River, which he performed a full production of earlier this year in Ann Arbor.  Gives me chills every time!

Zing Me To The Moon

Ann Arbor is a fantastic city.  A mere forty minutes away from the armpit known as Detroit, it's an artistically fruitful environment with charming boutiques and restaurants on almost every corner.  Chief among those unique Ann Arbor restaurants is the sandwich shop Zingerman's, which is about as close to a tourist destination as there is. 

My first trip to the behemoth sandwich shop, which seems like a cleaner and trendier version of NYC's Carnegie Deli, was a bit overwhelming.  I believe we went on a Saturday afternoon, where the line snaking through the cramped deli counters pushed me up against windows hiding slabs of meat and barrels of mac and cheese.  It was well worth braving the crowd.  The sandwiches are big enough to feed the Big Friendly Giant, which means I can successfully make it through about a quarter of mine. 

Last week, my wife on Facebook Jessica, my brother because we grew up doing musicals together Michael and I, took a walk through the winter snow to stuff some Zing in our bellies. 

(Feed me.)

(Love.)

(Nah, let's shoot a JC Penney ad!)

(She just found out I'm GAY.)

(Top model jump.  Very difficult after gorging at Zingerman's.)

 

Let Me Entertain You

Ballet and musical theater are two different beasts.  I’ve grown up loving both of them, and often find myself mocked by my peers for my borderline-obsessive nature when it comes to singing divas, dancing chorus boys, and Sondheim. Yet I continue to let my musical theater freak-flag fly, and nowhere is this indulged as fully as my time with my University of Michigan friends. 

During my first visit to the campus, over three years ago, I shadowed my friends around for almost every class they attended.  There is such joy watching them grow; being built up (and occasionally torn down) as they journey towards Broadway.  No class will ever rival that of teacher Mark Madama whose masterful teaching has left me questioning the coaching of ballet dancers. 

The class that he teaches is simply titled “Performance,” and it consists of just that.  Every week, students step to the front of their class, one by one, and perform a song.  After the initial performance, Mark leans back in his chair and pauses for a moment to reflect on what happened.  No matter how gorgeous, or grotesque, the previous two minutes were, he begins a private conversation with the actor in front of the entire class.  Through the dialogue , which consists of simple questions, the actor speaking of their character's intentions, analyzing different lines or words, a new understanding of the song begins to manifest in the student's performance.  At moments, the student is caught off guard, hesitating when they ponder the why, when, and who, of their song.  No matter how excellent the initial presentation was, Mark will always find something to make it better.  For anyone who wants instant gratification, with rewarding work, there is nothing like relishing the vulnerability he brings out in the front of the class.

I’ve begun to think of this class as “Extreme Performer Make Over: Musical Theater Edition” because of the incredible results that his coaching yields.  Sometimes it’s not entirely clear what he is getting at, but the moment the performer begins to sing again, the entire song takes on a new life.  Part of what astounds me about his work with students is that he doesn’t let them get away with anything.  He demands, in the most loving way possible, that every moment is thought about and comes from a real place. 

When I first sat in on his class over three years ago, my friends were still becoming accustomed to his way of working.  There was more caution in their performances, and more trepidation receiving his critiques.  Last week, after three years of working with Mark, everyone stood in front of the class eager to work.  The two-hour session was particularly frightening to the students because it was “Rock” week.  During the senior year, each week takes on a new theme.  Of course, the songs end up becoming “Rock, by way of Broadway.”  Some chose to do inspired renditions of Avril Lavigne hits, others opting for more straightforward rock songs by The Who, or Journey.  Whatever the material, Mark was able to allow the performers to stay true to themselves while changing the nuances. 

The type of honesty that he demands in performances, and the nitpicking that he teaches with is something I wish we had a little more of in the ballet world.  Too often it seems dancers perform roles, whether corps, principal or otherwise, of which they have little to no knowledge of the intent behind the choreography.  The choreography is masterfully performed, and at times flawless, but performance wise I find that ballet dancers are often left to fend for themselves.  Of course, my friends are still in school and they won’t receive this type of coaching when they enter the Broadway casting vortex.  However, with the tools they have been handed through Madama’s style, they are more prepared to self-analyze than many dancers I know.  It’s an enriching experience as a performer and yields phenomenal results for the audience.

(I begged her enough, and Lauren Holmes agreed to perform her song from Performance class...at 1 AM. Here is the 80's Heart classic "Alone," in the middle of the Barbie dream house.  After doing her solo rendition, stay tuned for the fantastic remix.)

CVS Throw Down: Part Two

The CVS Wig party has already become one of my favorite memories.  Part of what I love so much about having a few different groups of friends is that they all bring out different sides of me.  Fortunately, they all get along splendidly as well, which makes things a lot easier.  My friends in Michigan tend to bring out my more spontaneous side, which was put to full use during CVS debauchery.  Enjoy the conclusion. 

(Michael makes his flying entrance.)

(Before getting down to business as a runway spokesperson.)

(He seems to demand that you purchase this Crest mouthwash.  Nothing like scaring buyers into submission.)

(Jonathan has a different approach.  Here he attempts to sell head-wipes for bald men.  You learn something new everyday.)

(Jonathan found a picture he could take to his trainer.  Pretty soon he will look exactly like the cover of the magazine.)

(Fortunately, I also found what I hope to look like soon.)

(Lauren couldn't stay away from her musical greeting card obsession for long.)

(Which brought Ariel, I mean Marc, out to his rock to serenade the sailors.)

(I simply cannot get enough of Max in this wig.  Superfluous sassy shot.)

(Balloon party!  A rather fitting balloon floating in front of my face.)

(Attack the camera.)

(I have no clue how I got into this pose.  It's more of a back-bend than I've done in eight months.)

(Sweet deliciousness.  Michael's head looks slightly decapitated.)

(Max gets fancy with his camera work.)

CVS Throw Down: Part One

After I made my magnificent entrance into Ann Arbor, I wanted nothing more than devour all of my friends as the night progressed.  We grabbed a delicious dinner, froze our asses off roaming the streets of Ann Arbor, and then made our way back to the Barbie Dream Mansion my friends Jess, Lauren, and Marc, so comfortably reside in. 

When most people imagine college living, something along the lines of crushed beer cans, vomit stained carpets, and cramped quarters comes to mind.  Ann Arbor has an incredible assortment of apartments, houses, and boxes for students to live in, but everything pales in comparison to the house that my friends snatched up.  It's a three floor paradise, that looks like the perfect hybrid of a parent's classy home, with a students youthful needs.  I had my choice of three extra beds to stay in; one on each floor. 

Making the decision of where to sleep was rather easy, and then it was time to be with my friends.  A majority of them were in rehearsal for the production of a new show called "The Good Boy," so Max, Jonathan, Lauren, Marc and I, did what any bored twenty-somethings do....WIG PARTY! 

Lauren has a growing collection of wigs that she's collected over various summer stocks, Halloweens, and "Alias" style missions.  They were screaming for heads so we styled ourselves into a group of misfits and began to laugh at how foolish we looked.  Not content to laugh amongst ourselves, we decided a trip to CVS was necessary.  I needed deodorant, and what better way to shop with a wigged out group of college crazies?!  I'm convinced the staff at CVS 1. Hated us (rightfully so) and 2.  Thought we were on acid, ecstasy, drunk out of our minds, or all of the above.  There's nothing like being stone cold sober and acting like a fool.

(What's on the other side of that sexy winter coat?)

(The most fantastic thing on the planet.  Jonathan rocking some gorgeous extensions.)

(Marc tried to one-up us all by sporting some "heelies."  Usually reserved for ten year olds, Marc's recent purchase of these sneakers with heels on the wheels, has prompted him to glide through everyday situations.)

(Lauren discovered the musical greeting cards and decided it was time for...)

(A runway show!)

(Work it!  But what are you selling?)

(Friskies, of course.)

(I wasn't quite as successful in the heelies as Marc.  They look like they should be easy.  Seeing as I walk completely turned out, I almost ended up in the splits several times as my legs attempted to escape from under me.)

(I was better just playing model with Lauren in my creepy greasy wig.)

(Do you hear the phone ringing?  Or is that just CVS calling the police?)

(Max, the long lost member of the Ronettes, was taking a call from none other than Michael Lowney.  He's coming?!  Oh no...)

TO BE CONTINUED...

One of the Students

Perhaps with my new University of Michigan sweatshirt, I’ll fool people into believing I attended school there.  In many ways, it seems like I have.  Over the past three years I’ve been accepted as the honorary member of the senior class at the U of M.  With my surprise visit last week, I made my fifth, and possibly last, visit to my second family.  In a matter of months, they will migrate to the city to pursue their musical theater dreams, and I am starting a countdown. 

Three years ago I made my first trip to Ann Arbor and fell in love with a city and an entire group of people.  As one of my closest friends, Jessica, likes to point out, it makes complete sense. Michael and I have been inseparable since we formed a jump-roping club at recess in first grade.  Even with miles between us, he is the closest I will ever come to having a brother.  All of the people that love Michael so dearly in Ann Arbor, welcomed me with open arms.  It’s the transitive power of friendships. 

About two weeks ago, I made the decision that I would go to Ann Arbor and surprise all of my friends who were performing in a show over the weekend.  Despite the grumblings from my mother, and my wallet, I knew I needed something like this to lift my spirits.   I told one person, Marc, and kept my fingers crossed that he wouldn’t get swept up in the excitement and blurt out the news.  He was the perfect choice, because he got even more into the surprise than I did. 

My trip began much like my very first trip to Ann Arbor.  After Marc picked me up in my least favorite city on earth, Detroit, we stopped at the gas station and headed into Ann Arbor.  I was having complete deja vu of my first trip; the only difference was that this was a stealth mission. 

We toiled around Ann Arbor for a few hours, avoiding all of the campus hot spots that might blow my cover, before setting our plan into action.  If the cast of the show was called at 6:30, we knew we needed to arrive at the theater to hide at least thirty minutes early.  The plan we hatched was to stow me in a deserted dressing room and then Marc would lead all of my friends in there and I’d be sitting naked with a bow on screaming like a banshee when they opened the door.  It seemed perfect.  Only, it meant that we had to wait for each and every person to arrive.  Michael decided to show up about thirty minutes later than we expected, so I started to feel like a child waiting in line for a Santa Claus who was just out of sight.  The past three weeks built up to this moment and I needed it to come off flawlessly. 

As Valerie Cherish would say, “Well, I got it!”  From the moment Marc opened the door to my hidden room and let the flood of my friends in, I was overwhelmed with the excitement of the surprise.  The best part about my position at the University of Michigan, is that I get all of the wonderful benefits of going to school there (except a fantastic education) without the drama.  I also don’t think many people getting reactions like I got, on a day to day basis.  I thought all J.Lo and I had in common was an enlarged booty, but it turns out we can both rock the diva arrival. 

David called me shortly after my arrival, and asked how the surprise had gone off.  He noted that with a group as animated as musical theater performers, he couldn’t fathom the excitement I would elicit.  Hope it didn’t let him down.

(I didn't expect this to come across quite as much as an "Oh my god, everyone scream for Matt" video, but...I can't tamper with reality.  That's Michael standing with his jaw on the floor.  Sweet Victory is mine!)