Articles from 2001
Friends of Dorothy
Sydney Morning Herald | December 1-2, 2001
Week one
“We’re not in Kansas anymore, Portia, I mean, Toto…”
The real Wizard of Oz is not the mighty necromancer who bestows courage on gutless lions or gives brains to straw-headed scarecrows. It’s not even the vaguely Bert Newton-like chap who can transport a little girl lost back to Kansas. No, the real Wizard of Oz is Nancye Hayes. It is Hayes, the show’s director, who establishes the mood on day one of the five-week rehearsal period. Always softly spoken, she introduces a calming resolve, good humour and clarity of intent to go with her non dictatorial style.
It’s a late October morning and, inside a spartan Glebe rehearsal studio, a slightly nervous Hayes gives a welcoming speech that charms the company and – like the Good Witch she played in a Melbourne production of The Wizard of Oz a decade ago – casts a spell of contagious optimism.
By contrast, straight-talking choreographer Kelly Aykers lays down the law about fitness. “It’s professional theatre,” she tells me later. “These guys should all be trained in singing, acting and dancing. They know that if they’re going to be dancing, their fitness level has to be up.”
Finally, dog-trainer Lindy Coote decrees that only Nikki Webster (Dorothy) – around whom the production was conceived – is allowed contact with Spirit and Portia, the two cairn terriers that will share the role of Toto. Coote says it is vital that the dogs be able to pick Webster out on a stage crowded with Munchkins or monkeys. “If everyone else ignores them, they don’t ever think, ‘Hey, you gave me a piece of your ham sandwich the other day. You might do it again.’”
Thereafter it’s straight into a read-through of scene one. Webster, Pamela Rabe (Almira Gulch/Wicked Witch), Doug Parkinson (Zeke/Cowardly Lion), Philip Gould (Hickory/Tin Man), Kane Alexander (Hunk/Scarecrow), Delia Hannah (Aunt Em/Glinda) and Tony Geappen (Uncle Henry) sit in a ring of plastic chairs. Cast months before, they have all done their homework and immediately sound convincing. Meanwhile, the 16-member ensemble warms up its collective larynx next door with musical director Peter Casey – the first steps towards nailing a dozen songs.
Bert Newton’s commitments to the Melbourne-based Good Morning Australia limit his availability, so day three is his first appearance as Professor Marvel/the Wizard. More than the others, he actively seeks direction from Hayes and is delighted with what he gets. “She’s not a bully – as some directors can be – but she gets what she wants,” he says.
Newton’s hectic schedule has him flying to Sydney twice a week, participating in only half the rehearsals. “I can sleep anywhere any time,” he says, “so my plane trips are basically spent having a snooze… The thing I’ve had to learn to do pretty quickly is recognise where I am when I wake up. Am I in a dressing room – television or theatre? Am I on a plane? Am I at home? Am I at a hotel? The moment that I don’t know within five minutes, I think I might have to retire!”
Week two
“I’ll get you my pretty…”
Lindy Coote is another wizard. Having trained the two dogs in the basics, she has to ready them for the role of Toto. At home she has been getting them accustomed to loud noises by banging books together and to pyrotechnics by lighting sparklers in the dark. The unexpected is always a skip away in dealing with animals, and when Spirit takes fright at Rabe’s Wicked Witch cape and broomstick, precious time is consumed dispelling the fear. Spirit and Portia also have to respond to their stage name and, above all, bond with Webster.
Fortunately, Webster loves dogs and this bond comes as easily as everything else to the 14-year-old who, despite having the largest part, is the first to learn her lines. She’s not perfect, however, and Hayes has to slow down her rapid-fire delivery, an issue broached with typical diplomacy. Aykers, meanwhile, has to “get the modern pop princess out of her body” in favour of the intended vaudevillian dance style and Casey has to coax her not to impose pop nuances on melodies.
Climbing temperatures make the studios uncomfortable in the afternoons and the roof leaks when it rains. Hayes has slipped into a routine of rising at 6am to plan her day. Rehearsals last from 10am to 6pm, six days a week. Sometimes she wakes in the middle of the night with worry. Even when she looks tired, her temper never frays. She still speaks softly, commanding attention from a company whose camaraderie is already tangible.
One of the delights for everyone is Rabe’s return to the Wicked Witch, having previously played the part in the same production as Hayes (which also had Newton and Geappen in their current roles). Rabe’s every appearance lights up the studio with a delicious evil and the show’s funniest lines. “It all feels fresh,” she says. “It’s a part that I just love playing. It feels like coming home.”
Week three
A sting in the lion’s tail…
The charmer of the cast in Parkinson, whose bonhomie seems big enough for all to share. Like Alexander with his Scarecrow costume and Gould as the Tinman, Parkinson knows in advance that his Lion costume will impede movement. The first time he wears just the tail it lashes the other players and snags the dog’s leash. “This show is an obstacle course,” says Hayes, grimacing.
Initially, the singing, acting and dancing were rehearsed separately. Now they are fully integrated, with Casey conducting and extracting the vocal performances he wants over piano accompaniment.
Week four
Somewhere, near the rainbow…
Aykers, who describes sitting in the audience on opening nights as “more nerve-racking than any performance I’ve ever given”, dresses down the children in the cast for their sloppy performances as Munchkins. The tension is a clear indication that time is running out.
Eight days out from the previews the cast rehearses with the 17-piece orchestra. With no staging, this is Casey’s chance to tie the two elements together. Hearing Webster singing Over The Rainbow with the orchestra feels like a landmark and she is applauded by some of the musicians. “She is such a professional,” says Casey. “She’ll give the same amount of effort, thought and application as an adult twice her age. She’s a phenomenal performer.”
Week five
“Hello, yellow brick road…”
While the rehearsals have been proceeding, the set has been bumped into the Lyric Theatre, built and lit. This, however, adds the biggest layer of complexity and, when the company moves to the theatre for the final week, much of the initial focus is on incorporating flying harnesses, trap-doors and pyrotechnics.
Two days before the first preview a run-through is stopped when Parkinson nearly faints, Wearing a sweater during the preceding has not been enough to acclimatise the performer to the extreme heat of the Lion costume under lights. “It was about 50 degrees-plus inside my suit,” he says. “I had to get help to get out of the thing.”
By contrast the dogs are a joy, taking the pyrotechnics in their short stride, although at one point the Lion spooks one. “I suppose she thought, ‘What dog is this? I’ve never seen one like this before!’” laughs Hayes, who admits warming to her canine cast.
Changes are still being made a day before the first preview, as Hayes, Aykers and Casey give notes to the company, mainly about timing and positioning. Designer Roger Kirk’s sets and costumes are so dazzling I ask Webster if she ever wishes that she could step out of herself and see the show from the front? “No,” she beams. “I like being in the middle of it.”
Wish granted.
The Wizard of Oz is now playing at the Lyric Theatre, Star City.