When Belmont Day School first approached me about writing a large-cast play--no, make that huge-cast play (we're talking 40 roles!)--I expected it to be tough.
I mean, how do you come up with that many characters? How do you manage them on the stage? And how do you make sure every role is meaningful?
As is turned out, it was tough. But there were two steps I took to simplify things.
Making each role count
The first was to group characters together. I had the six members in the family. I had three ghost hunters. I had five tourists. I had five cheerleaders. And so on and so on. This made it easier to manage the characters because it allowed me to move them around in groups.
The second was to assign different personalities to each character within a group. For the cheerleaders, for example, I had a tough one, a sweet one, a bossy one, a confused one, and a perky one. In each situation they faced, I knew exactly how each of the characters would respond and I knew that each of those responses would be unique to that character.
It worked. The play was, for me, an artistic success, telling the amusing, action-packed, and yet emotionally powerful story of a dysfunctional family becoming, in the end, functional.
But it was a financial success too, as the play (along with its one-act adaptation) garnered 74 productions in its first full year of publication, placing it second on my list of popular plays.
Apparently, a lot of schools are interested in huge-cast plays. And it makes sense. After all, it allows them to involve a lot more actors in their program, including kids that may not have performed before but are eager to trod the boards with a small but laugh-worthy role.
An odd request
Well, now my second huge-cast play is out, and I have even higher hopes for it. This one is titled Bringing Down the House and, like that other play, it has a cast of 38 (7M, 5F, plus 26 roles that can be any and extras). The play is about a struggling theater company that's forced to throw together a show in just two hours when they learn that the theater they rented is about to get demolished.
Sound crazy? It is. But there's an added twist that makes this one irresistible. Belmont Day School requested that it be a musical without songs.
What's that you say? How is that even possible? Well, the idea they came up with is that during the rehearsal, the various performers would prepare to burst into song, but each time they do, they get interrupted before they can even sing one note.
I loved it. And that's what led me to the concept of the theater being demolished in the first place. I mean, how can you even rehearse a musical when you have to deal with an endless array of intruders, from an annoying child actor to a publicity-hungry politician, and from a group of confused protestors to the bumbling demo crew itself?
The play is wild. It's fun. It's hilarious. And--big surprise!--it's easy to produce.
Keeping things simple
Since the play is a backstage comedy, you can use your own bare stage as the set, adding only a few minor items like a table, chair, and two building columns.
The props are fairly minimal as well, although there are two swordfights--one with real swords and one with sledgehammers and protest signs (trust me, it makes sense)--so you'll have to prepare for that.
As for the costumes, those almost entirely street clothes, with a few hard hats and professional outfits thrown in for good measure.
Okay, enough jabbering. You want to read the full synopsis, don't you? Well, you can find that on the play's web page, along with a free script sample and ordering info.
Hopefully, you'll have a lot more than two hours to rehearse this show.
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