These favorite moments aren’t ranked in order of favoriteness, just in the order I happen to choose to write them. 

Matt’s Favorite Moment #1 – Choreographic Styles

I auditioned for the Music Dance Theater program three times at BYU before I got in.  I always got pretty good scores on my voice, and really good scores of my acting, but my dance scores were atrocious.  Really, truly atrocious.  I just wasn’t a very good dancer.  It’s not that I didn’t have dance inside of me, it’s just that I had never danced before.  I had never taken a class.  I had never done a musical that required more than a basic box step. 

When I finally got into the MDT program, I was woefully behind in dance.  I picked up tap dancing (not LAP dancing, Jeff) very quickly, and became extremely proficient at Tap in pretty short order.  But the other forms of dance, especially jazz, modern, and ballet, came very slowly to me, if at all.  I just couldn’t get my body to do what I wanted it to do.  And I really couldn’t get it to do what my Advanced Jazz teacher wanted it to do.  I loved watching dance, and I was extremely jealous of all those really great dancers I was surrounded by on a daily basis, but my body just wouldn’t cooperate. 

On top of that, so much of my dance training was focused on technique, that I never got to experience letting go of technique and just enjoying dance for dance’s sake.  I, to this day, have a notoriously poor memory for dance steps, and I would regularly freak myself right the hell out trying to remember my choreography.  In instances like that, it’s hard to just let yourself go.

My Jr. Year of College, I had to take Choreographic Styles, which was taught by one of my top three favorite teachers of all time, Dave Tinney.  I’ve known a lot of really amazing people in my lifetime, but Dave Tinny is my hero.  He is so disgustingly talented.  (I could go on, but my artistic crush on Dave Tinney will have to be the topic of another blog post.)

Choreographic styles was a unique class.  It wasn’t about technique.  It was about experiencing the amazing dance styles of famous choreographers and then taking those experiences and ideas, and bending them into your own choreographic works. 

The first main project we had to do was to take a famous choreographer, dissect one of their well-known dances, and teach it to the rest of the class.  Kim Nelson and I were assigned Michael Peters, who is best known for choreographing many of Michael Jackson’s more popular works (Thriller, Beat It, etc.)  Pretty much every couple in previous sections of the class assigned Mr. Peters taught Thriller.  What many people didn’t realize is that Michael Peters also choreographed one of the best “bad” movies of all time: Sister Act II.  So, Kim and I decided that we wanted to teach the “Joyful, Joyful” routine from the end of the movie.  It was a blast.  It’s not hard choreography, but for the first time in my life, I actually knew all the steps and I had to show them to someone else, instead of me looking around like I’m lost and asking other people for help.  It was a lot of fun.

The second half of the class, Dave grouped us into pairs and gave us a topic or theme.  We were then supposed to choreograph our own routine to that theme in whatever style we chose.  I was paired with the incomparable Nicole Riding.  Nicole is one of the best singers I’ve ever had the pleasure to listen to, and grew into an absolutely jaw-dropping actress during her time in school.  But I don’t think she’d be mad at me for saying that she wasn’t known for being the best dancer in the program.  Nobody would have mistaken our partnership as the dynastic dance duo of the class.  For the theme of our dance,  Dave selected Macbeth.

Nicole and I worked our butts off on this project.  We eventually settled on the Train song Hopeless off the Drops of Jupiter album, and we opted to use the “Out Damn Spot” speech from Macbeth as the inspiration for the dance.  A guilty woman’s descent into madness.  And then, something just clicked.  For the first time since I had started dancing and taking classes, I got to make up the movement.  Nicole and I spent a long time working out the choreography in class and in the living room of my apartment, and we really liked what we came up with.

On the day we were to present, I wasn’t nervous at all.  I was excited.  I wanted to share our creation with the class.  We taught the movement to the class, and then, as was the custom in the class, the “teachers” for the day sat up front with Dave and helped to grade all of the students in the class on their performance and execution.

It was, to be a little melodramatic, a thrilling experience.  (Look.  I got my degree in musical theater.  What did you expect?  Restraint?)  Nicole and I sat there watching our classmates perform our dance.  I can’t speak for Nicole, but when I saw someone really hit it, it’s like our little group of steps took on a new life.  I learned for the first time how dance could transcend the steps and become something more than itself.  It was, well, thrilling.

After the class was over, we had several people come up to us and say what a great job we had done, including Dave.  Getting praise at all in that program was pretty rare for me (I was rarely brilliant), and due to my insecurities, I drank it up like a man wandering in the desert for days on end without any water.  I wasn’t the best singer, my acting was always weak, and my dance?  Well, we’ve covered that.  But to get praise from someone I respected as much as I respect Dave Tinney meant a lot to me.  And it was the only dance class other than Tap in which I ever earned an A.

Nearly 10 years have elapsed since the time Nicole and I choreographed Macbeth to a song from Train, but I think about that experience often.  And every time the song Hopeless pops up on my Zune, I’m transported back to Room 15 in the KMB, sitting on the floor against the west wall of the studio, my back against the mirror, and watching my classmates, the people with whom I had spent my entire college career, bring something I had created to life. 

When viewed through the lenses of hindsight, I have come to see how influential this experience would be in the way I was to conduct my life.  I learned, during that class, perhaps more than at any other time in my college career, what it means to create.  That class is part of the reason why I still try to write songs, start a novel every couple of years that only lasts about 10 pages, do photography, cook, learn computer programming languages.  I keep trying to find that place where one of my creations takes on a life of its own.  And it’s fun.  It’s fun to have your work be recognized, praised.  It doesn’t happen often, but when it does, it makes a lasting impression.

So, thanks Nicole, for being one of the best project partners I ever had.  And thanks, Dave, for being such an amazing teach and a wonderful, yet completely reluctant, role model.  Choreographic styles is still one of my favorite memories of my college career, and my adult life.

2010 was, by all accounts, a strange year.  But in retrospect, it was a pretty good one.  For me, there were really only two major events in the year that made a big impact.

1) I got a new job in June

2) I had an emotional meltdown in October over thoughtless words delivered over a pulpit.

The first item had been a long time coming, and I was fortunate to find what I believe is a pretty good fit (albeit with less-than-stellar health care.  Grumble.)   The second issue was indicative of a much larger and much deeper internal struggle that I’ve been dealing with for the great majority of my life.

I spent most of 2010 alone.  Not in the “OMG I’m so lonely I’m going to sit in the bathtub in the dark and listen to Sarah McLaughlin while eating Rocky Road ice cream and crying” kind of way, but more in the “I enjoy being in my own company” sort of way.  I spent a lot of time trying to get comfortable in my own skin.  I wasn’t completely successful, but 2010 ushered in a level of self-introspective peace that was new to me.

I spent the year taking photos, playing games, watching TV and movies, reading, cooking, shopping, cleaning, working, walking the dog, programming websites, fast forwarding through commercials, and wishing for things that weren’t to be…and some that were.  I watched friends and family members find joy in life, and struggle through the heartache of disappointed dreams.  I was much more of a spectator than a participant in life, and I think that, overall, it was a good thing for me to step out of myself and just watch the world.  I’ve learned a lot by watching this year.

I started with my usual “set a butt-ton of goals and report on them once a month.”  Then I abandoned it.  I came to realize that my goals were all about making me a better person, but my insistence on focusing on my goals meant I wasn’t happy with myself the way I was. 

I talked on the phone with my parent probably 250 of the 365 days in the year.  I tried to talk with my brother and sister at least once a week.  I went to Utah in May for a short visit.  My sister came to Seattle of visit in July.  My friend Mukluk came in February to check out the University and spent a few days here.  I went to the zoo three times.  I drove into Seattle more times in 2010 than I have since I moved out of the city in 2007.  I watched far fewer movies at the theater, and a lot more of them at home. 

I stopped watching TV almost entirely.  I swore off Facebook and Twitter, and still only manage to check in once a week or so.  I got a piano, and try to play at least 30 minutes every day.  I got an iPad, and use it much more than 30 minutes a day.  I read and/or listened to at least 30 books, and only seven of them were repeats of the books I’d read before.  (Guess which seven that would be?)

2010 was the 7th wettest year on record for Seattle.  It was cold and rainy until July 5th, and then started again by September.  It rained so much the dock at my apartment was underwater by December 10th.  It snowed on Thanksgiving week and brought the city to a halt. 

So, 2010 wasn’t an amazing year.  It wasn’t (for me anyway) a horrible year.  It was just a year.  A year where nothing major happened…just living.  And for the first time in my living memory, "just living” was enough for me.

2011 is here, and I look forward to see where it carries me, and where I manage to go on my own.  My theme for the year is “Simplify,” and I’ve already started in.  Happy New Year to everyone, and best wishes for a wonderful 2011.

And now, to round off the year, here are a few of my favorite photos from 2010:

Happy New Year!

I may not have enjoyed most of the things about scouting, but there was one thing I always loved.  The fire.  Let’s face it.  I’m just a pyromaniac at heart.  Except I only like setting things on fire that should be on fire:  things like firewood, junkmail, or Sarah Palin.

My favorite memory of scouts (aside from the truly epic snipe hunt that we sent a bunch of scouting noobs on one year at summer camp) was the time around the campfire.  Seriously, once the sun would set, and it would get dark, there was nothing I loved more than gathering around the campfire for a few hours and talking and laughing while the food cooked over the glowing coals.  And, much like any food that is deep fried tastes better, any food that is cooked over a campfire tastes better as well. 

In fact, my whole group of friends from scouts loved playing with fire…literally.  Jeremy, Ryan, Nathan, Trent, Terryl, and I were so enamored with fire that we quickly gained the nickname “The Pyro Patrol.”  But boy howdy, we could build up a fire better’n anybody.

Heck, I even like chopping wood.  And if I still lived somewhere with a yard, I’d probably still be chopping wood on occasion. 

Fortunately, when I moved into my new apartment, I was able to move back into an apartment with a fireplace…and I have already gotten much good use out of it this year.  I had a truly miserable day today at work, and the first thing I did was stoke up a good fire.  Then I made a pot of homemade chicken noodle soup, plopped myself in front of the television with my electric blanket, and turned off my mind while I watched television. 

The only thing better than a fire is a fire build on a beach next to the water.  Because then you put my two favorite things together in one place, and for those few hours, all is right with the world. 

In this modern day and age, people freak out when you talk about burning fires…particularly when they aren’t necessary for warmth or light.  Well, all I have to say to that is, “Suck it.”  Quite frankly, if my once-a-week fireplace infernos are killing the environment, then so be it.  I’m all for being environmentally conscious, but not to the point of denying myself the opportunity to indulge in the true beauty of a crackling fire at night.  Shoot.  Throw a perfectly decorated Christmas tree and a fuzzy yellow dog in the mix, and I’m in heaven. 

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some Jumbo Marshmallows that need roasting.  (PS.  Marshmallows are one of Luke the Dog’s favorite foods.  Just so you know.)

So, I was never a very good dancer.  I think I had some latent talent at dancing and, had I started earlier in my life, I probably could have been quite good.  As it was, I was only ever a passable dancer.  I was good enough to land roles, but aside from the epic mistake of hiring me as a dancer on a cruise ship after having only given me a dance audition over the phone (seriously), nobody would ever both mistaking me for a great dancer.

One of the things that all of my dance teachers always said about me, though, was that I had great feet.  Especially for a man, I have a very good point and extremely good turnout.  Even now, after having not set foot in a dance studio for nigh unto seven years, I will still find myself doing tendus and developés.  I’ve gotten fat, but my legs (and butt) are still in great shape, even if I say so myself, and from the waist down, I still look as though I could be dancing every day. 

I was laying on the floor last night, petting the dog, when I noticed that I was pointing my feet, and though that it might be fun to photograph my feet as part of my self-portrait project.  This is the result:

***

Sad.  Sad, Sad, Sad.  Epic Sad.  Summer is over.  To Wit:

This makes me sad.  Our summer was so short this year.  And rumor has it that we’re in for another very wet winter.  The lawn outside my apartment is already a mud bog, and it’s only been raining for a week or so.  I, at least, hope that we get some snow this year around Christmas time.

***

Speaking of Christmas time, it’s been cold and rainy lately, and every time the weather changes like that, it makes me want to start decorating for Christmas.  I know, I know.  It’s only September.  And I may not be able to control my impulses when it comes to money, but I will refrain from decorating for Christmas until November.  I may not have a lot of self control, but I think I can manage that.  I bought my ticket home last week, and got my time off approved, so I will be down in Utah this year again.  I will be home for almost a full week this time, so I might actually have some time to meet up with friends while I’m there.  Especially if you’re available during the day time during the weeks.

***

I seem to be running into a lot of people lately who are capable of hearing only what they want to hear, and not what I actually say.  If I say, "Once we start the project, it will take a minimum of three weeks to complete," the person to whom I am talking will hear, "The project will be done in three weeks."  If I say, "We don’t do physical distribution of audiobooks, we only do digital distribution," the person to whom I am speaking will hear, "We do both physical and digital distribution."  Did I all of a sudden (or is it "all of THE sudden?") lose my ability to communicate clearly?  Did I ever have that ability?

***

I’m completely sickened by the jackholes in Florida who are planning a book burning of the Koran (Quran?) this weekend.  I’m so, so, so tired of ignorant people making offensive decisions without at least trying to understand what it is they are fighting against.  Sure.  We’ll burn the Koran because some terrorists are Islamic, but we’ve never actually read the book, so we don’t know for sure what it teaches.  Of course, some terrorists are Catholic, but we won’t burn the Bible, because those Catholic terrorists don’t reflect the point of view of all Catholics.  All of the hatred, ignorance, and anger that resonates amongst people has really started to affect me lately.  I just wish we lived in a world where those who are religious wouldn’t use their religion as an excuse to stay ignorant of the world and the people in it.  It’s possible to be religious and still be enlightened and aware of the greater picture. 

***

I’ve been feeling a little bit of…what’s the word…homesickness, I guess, for my old classmates and life at BYU.  I never felt like I fit in all that much with the MDT kids (despite my trying desperately), but they were a really fun group of people most of the time.  In the last few weeks, I’ve been mentally reliving the "breakthroughs" that I had when I was in school.  Landing a supporting lead in a mainstage play the first week of school as a freshman, the first time I got really good scores on my acting proficiencies, the time in my first acting class when I made the class laugh doing an exercise when we were only able to speak in gibberish, doing The Fantasticks with Korianne and learning, for the first time, what it meant to have a fully two-way relationship with your acting partner.  Choreographing a dance piece based on MacBeth with Nicole that the teacher still remembers eight years later.  Taking coaching with Dave.  Ballet with Richie.  As difficult as the MDT program was (and, as worthless as the degree is in the "real" world), there were a lot of good times.  I miss that.

***

I also miss some of my old former friends.  I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life when it comes to my relationships with my friends.  I’ve lately been wishing that I could undo what I did and go back to the way things were.  We’ve all moved on in our lives, and a reconciliation isn’t really likely (and perhaps not even recommended) but I still miss having those friendships more readily available.

***

On a more upbeat note, my dog is apparently part squirrel.  The acorns have started falling off the oak trees here at my apartment complex.  He likes to pick up the whole acorns (he won’t touch the ones that are cracked open) and carry them back to the apartment.  Then he deposits them in a pile under the dining room table.  He doesn’t chew them, he just carries and collects them, like he’s preparing for winter.  It’s really strange.

***

I have two new neighbors who moved in a month ago who happen to be brothers of one of the guys I went to school with in the MDT program.  They’re really cool guys, but they’re both built like brick walls, and always find ways to go around without their shirts on.  (Let’s be honest…if I had a body like that, I would too.)  My neighbors exacerbate my body image issues. 

***

And lastly, here’s another photo from my photowalk on Labor Day

This is the underside of an old, abandoned train trestle over the Sammamish river.  The slats across the top are actually the railroad ties.

I saw everything that came out.  From 1994 through 1996, I had managed to force down some incredible movies and some real stinkers.  (Cutthroat Island, The Brady Bunch Movie, and The Arrival, to name a few of the stinkers.) I went to movies I knew I wasn’t going to like because, as previously mentioned, I saw everything. 

I remember going to the theater for the opening weekend of the original Toy Story.  I honestly wasn’t looking forward to it that much.  The Toy Story trailers I had seen just didn’t look that interesting.  I have always had a love affair with animation, but this computer animation didn’t look all that good to me, and the story didn’t seem that engaging.  (As a side note, Pixar has always had amazing movies, but their movie trailers are never very enticing. They just don’t portray how incredible the films are.  The only exception to the pattern was the first teaser trailer to The Incredibles which didn’t really tell you much about the movie, but still managed to tell you a bunch about the movie–all while being hysterical.)

As I sat in the theater on that Wednesday evening, thrilled to be out of school for the Thanksgiving holiday, and completely unprepared for what I was about to experience.  From the opening moments of the scene with Andy playing with his toys, I was completely entranced with Toy Story.  I was carried away with delight over everything.  I had fancied myself a hard-nosed movie critic (as a 17 year old boy), but Toy Story was such an amazing accomplishment, both technically and artistically, that I found myself completely unable to analyze the movie and fully lost in the story.

I ended up going back to see Toy Story a total of five times in the movie theater.  Each time I went back, I was taken aback by something I hadn’t noticed before: the texture of the grass and trees on the street outside, the musical underscoring, the funny little asides in the film (the house being sold by "Virtual Realty").  And despite repeated viewings, it never got old.

Toy Story II came out a few years later, and again, I approached it with trepidation.  I had a more-than passing loathing of unnecessary sequels.  Yet Pixar somehow managed to improve the technology, improve the story, and improve the emotion.  And they struck on something that would prove to be pivotal to their stories in the future: they weren’t afraid to make the audience cry.  I love a good weeper, and to this day, I still can’t see (or hear) the Jesse’s Song montage in Toy Story 2 without tearing up.

I only managed to see Toy Story II in the theaters four times, because, well, I was in college, and was busy and poor.  But it quickly became my favorite Pixar movie, and even now, still holds the #2 slot.

Aside: If I had to rank the Pixar Movies in order from most to least favorite, they would be:

1. Finding Nemo
2. Toy Story II
3. Wall-E
4. Ratatouille
5. Toy Story
6. Up
7. The Incredibles
8. Cars
9. A Bug’s Life
10. Monsters Inc

And now, in five short days, Pixar will complete a 15-year journey with the release of Toy Story III.  After 15 years and 10 incredible films (Monsters Inc. was an incredible film…even though it’s my least favorite of the bunch) I no longer have any doubts about Pixar "screwing it up."  They know what they’re doing.  They do it better than anyone else.  I imagine that, at some point, they’ll have to put out a movie that just isn’t very good.  But I don’t see it happening this time, or any time soon.  They know how to tell a story, and I trust them enough that I am certain that they wouldn’t have put out another Toy Story movie unless they had another story to tell.  And from what I’ve heard of the internet scuttlebutt, I’m going to need to bring a hankie with me.

The original Toy Story was about the magic and wonder of a new world, a child’s world.  It was populated with well-rounded and honest characters stuck in a completely novel scenario.  It was about the unending possibilities of this new digital technology as a masterful medium for storytelling.  And, for many people, it represented a more simple time.

A lot has happened in my life over the last 15 years.  I graduated from high school, college, and graduate school.  I moved 26 times.  I’ve loved and lost.  I’ve become hardened and jaded.  I’ve become an adult.  I have to pay my bills, and go to work every day.  Yet, the arrival of Toy Story 3 this coming Wednesday is like having your best childhood friend with whom you’ve lost touch show up on your doorstep and finding that you’re able to pick up exactly where you left off.  And he brought you a puppy!  I’ve spent the last 15 years fondly remembering and loving this story, these characters.  When they were released in 3D as a double feature last year, I was transported back again despite the fact that I’ve probably seen these movies a dozen time apiece.  And this coming Wednesday, I will be right there in the theater, ready to say hello to my old friends again.

I may not be able (or even want) to go back to my old 17-year-old self driving a big, gas guzzling Mercury Marquis to a theater in Jackson, Michigan to load up on Jelly Belly Jelly Beans.  However, you can rest assured that on Wednesday night, I’ll be right there in the theater with my Jelly Bellies.  I’m 15 years older, but I’m just as excited now as I was 15 years earlier when the closing credits ran for the first time on Toy Story.

Thanks, Pixar, for making such amazing, inspiring, life altering art.  I can’t wait to see what you’ve done this time.

Actually, I’ve been in a pretty serious funk lately.  Not that this is anything particularly new with me.  I have more emotional ups and downs than John Travolta’s movie career.  This time, my "down" came upon me unexpectedly, and took me by complete surprise.

A few nights ago, I woke up having had a very realistic and very immediate dream regarding a friendship of mine that ended years ago because of some mistakes I made and some of the issues I was struggling with at the time.  I thought I had gotten past the whole thing, but laying there in bed at 2:45 in the morning, gasping for breath, I felt like I had just travelling in time back to some of the darkest days of my life.  Not to be too melodramatic, but I felt as though all of the shame, guilt, unfulfilled emotions, and pain came rolling right back in and I was back in a personal Hell all over again.

I normally don’t have dreams that I remember, let alone dreams that affect me so deeply, but this one still hurts.  Even thinking about it now, it’s like someone is sitting on my chest and I’m having a hard time breathing.  It’s been three days, and I can’t get the whole scenario and history out of my mind.

It’s amazing how fragile we can be sometimes.  Overall, I had been quite happy in my little world of late.  I was content to spend the time with my dog, or taking photos, or recording audiobooks, or cooking, or playing video games, or writing music, or any of the little things I do to fill up my days.  I was leaving a job and starting a new one.  I was thoroughly enjoying spending time with my family.  Then, out of the blue, all of the emotions and feelings that I had fought so hard and for so long to set aside just bubbled right back up to the surface, and it was all there, all over again.

Intellectually, I am well aware of how ludicrous the whole situation is.  But, to quote one of my own songs, "I’ve never handled my emotions/With a calm and steady hand." This friend has moved on with life and, from what I am able to gather from my internet stalking, appears to be very happy.  The drama and difficulties that I created have probably been completely forgotten or referred to in an eye-rolling, "look at how silly he was" sort of fashion.  My life and this person’s life diverged years ago, and trying to "make things right" now would only make things worse.

Well, I suppose that’s the nature of life, eh?  There are some people in this world who are able to make mistakes and leave them in the past.  People who, no matter the situation or scenario, are able to look upon the world with a positive attitude and see the good.  Much like music comes to me as a natural ability, positivity and personal relationships comes naturally to them.  They are able to "play" their relationships with others masterfully, creating a beautiful symphony of interpersonal ties.  (Good grief, could I mangle this metaphor any further?)  For me, personal relationships are very hard work with very little positive result.  I make lots of mistakes, hurt myself and others, and generally leave a swath of personal devastation in my wake.  Honestly, that’s why I find it easier (and far more satisfying) to seek solace in solitude.  Otherwise, I just keep adding to my catalog of guilt-triggers, which is the last thing I need.

Or, at least that’s what it feels like tonight.  Hopefully, in a few more days, I’ll be back to being content with my life the way it is.  I just wish that I could finally forgive myself for the mistakes I’ve made in the past and move on once and for all.  Instead, I feel like I’ve always got these personal demons lurking in the periphery, waiting to rear their ugly heads to convince me that I’m a hopeless case, just when I’ve finally realized (once again) that I’m not.

Stupid dreams.

It’s a beautiful outdoor amphitheater that seats over 2,000 people.  Being set in the southwest, Tuacahn plays up its cowboy old-west heritage.  In order to help turn this massive theatre in the middle of nowhere into more of a destination experience, they also offer a chuck wagon dinner each night, where folks who have bought their tickets to see the show can get a meal and enjoy the scenery.  One of my other jobs at Tuacahn was to perform in the little Preshow performance that took place on a small stage up in the plaza outside the theatre during the chuck wagon dinner. 

The show was extremely hokey, and not a whole lot of fun to do (which could sum up about 80% of my career as a performer, if I’m being honest), and so, after about a month of doing the show, I decided that I wanted to make a Christopher Guest-style mocumentary about the whole preshow experience.  Of course, I didn’t have any filmmaking resources, so I bought a small consumer DV camera, and pirated a copy of Adobe Premiere, (which I had never used before in my life) and I started interviewing the cast of the Preshow each night after the Preshow performance, but before the main stage show started. 

It wasn’t long before word got around, and folks were clambering to take part.  You know how it is with performers.  As soon as they get a whiff of attention, they start cycling around overhead like vultures over so much carrion.  I was interviewing costumers, stage managers, and friends who were in town to watch the show as audience members.  About two weeks before the end of the summer season, during which I would be leaving Tuacahn to drive to Tennessee to work at the Black Bear Jamboree, I took the hours and hours of footage, cut it all together in about three days of work, fitting it in before or after the show. 

My biggest challenge is that I had only interviewed the 40 people in the casts.  I hadn’t really asked a lot of leading questions, nor had I staged most of what happened.  Everyone there knew it wasn’t serious, and they fed me with a lot of great material, but there just wasn’t a unifying thread to the whole thing.  I cut together most of what I needed, shot a bit of B-Roll, and asked the "assistant director" who did a lot of the interviewing to do a bit of voiceover work.  I was then able to craft a rough story out of the footage I had.

I wasn’t perfect.  I didn’t have good audio equipment, so the audio is noisy.  It wasn’t a controlled set, so people were always walking into the frame.  I wasn’t familiar with the editing software, and there are a couple of continuity errors or incorrect B-Roll, but when it was done, I was pretty proud of it.  More surprisingly, someone (not me) convinced the theater management to let us show the finished product during the closing night cast party.

I was one of the proudest moments of my life.  There were probably 100 folks at this party who watched it, and the film got a standing ovation at the end.  I decided then and there that I wanted to be a filmmaker.  And like all of my big, life-changing decisions, I stuck with it for the 20 minutes it took me to drive from the theatre back to the hotel I was staying in for the night.  But I’ve always looked back on this little project with fondness.  It’s not perfect. It’s full of inside jokes that most folks wouldn’t get.  But it was something I accomplished that was well-received.  And as an artist, that’s always a great thing. 

I decided it was time to put the thing up on the interwebs for posterity.  I still have a DVD master of the thing, but the source tapes and files have long since disappeared over the years.  I just wanted to make sure that, if I ever had my house burn down, that I wouldn’t forever lose this thing.  So, I am proud to present, Preshow: The Mocumentary.

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7