JB Top 5's: Liquid Relief

Incredibly, after a nearly four-year run, Jersey Boys Australia will take its final bow in about two weeks. One of the world's most successful musicals in decades has certainly been a hit Down Under, as it has around the world. And for me, this will mark the third time I will be saying "Bye Bye, Baby" to the show. Will it be for good this time? Who knows.

      Facing another closing night has inspired me to look back and examine my time with this show. And because I think you might find it interesting, I've decided to share some of these thoughts with you. Specifically, my goal is to put into words exactly what it's like to be an actor playing this iconic person in this famous band in this amazing show, in another Country, six nights a week. 

      This is Part 4 of an on-going series of Top 5’s that illuminate what it’s like to play ‘Frankie Valli’ in the long-running show, Jersey Boys. Part 1 is the Top5 moments that make my heart soar, Part 2 is the Top 5 moments that make my heart ache, and Part 3 is my Top 5 daily must-dos.

      You can find Parts 1 and 2 to the right of this page, by clicking on 2013, then clicking on ‘May’. Part 3 is on the right, under ‘June’.

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Today's Subject: The Top 5 Moments of Liquid Relief

For the next couple JB Top 5’s I want to do something a bit cheeky, to use a common Aussie expression. I'm going to lift the curtain for you a bit, and reveal a few of the fun details about how we make the show work.

I mentioned in Part 3 of the JB Top 5’s that in order to keep my vocal chords in the optimal condition for the onslaught of singing and speaking, I drink a bladder-busting 2-3L of water while at the theatre. Well, I lied – sort of. It’s not all water that I drink. And some of it happens right before your eyes, onstage.

Why do I drink so much? First, there's the two and half hours of highly energetic singing, acting and dancing. But on top of that, theatres themselves are super dry places. In every theatre I’ve ever worked in, the backstage area is a massive space which in itself is hard to humidify. Then, they're blasted with Air Conditioning and filled with tonnes of electrical, sound and lighting equipment, zapping the air of what's left of its humidity. Less humidity equals dryer throats. Not good.

Jersey Boys is the fastest-paced show I’ve ever done, by a whole lot. It’s so fast, none of us have time to run to the water jug and pour ourselves a paper cup-full. Most of the cast are too busy running around, whipping off costumes and changing wigs while simultaneously singing background harmonies to boot. (You think I'm kidding? Think again.) This is why we all have a refillable water bottle positioned at our costume rack, so we can grab a quick drink while changing costumes. We also have a team of dressers backstage to help us do our faster costume changes, and they will often ‘travel’ the water bottle to you if there isn’t even enough time to make it to your costume rack, which you have to admit is pretty awesome, right?

“But wait a second,” you might say, “I saw the show and there’s lots of drinks onstage. Isn’t that enough?” Well, smarty-pants, most of the drinks you see onstage in Jersey Boys are not actually real. It's the magic of the theatre, sweetheart. That 'cocktail' you see is actually coloured water in a plastic glass which has been sealed with a plastic lid. I'm particularly fond of the "on the rocks" drinks we use, with the fake plastic ice cubes are sealed in, too. In other scenes, the ‘liquids’ themselves are not even liquid. For example, Crewe's glass of "milk" is a delicious combination of paint and plaster, and the schooners of 'draft beer' are actually molded plastic - unmovable, unspillable, and unbreakable (not to mention undrinkable).

The reality is that using actual liquids onstage can be dangerous in many ways, especially in a fast-moving musical. A drink could easily fall to the floor, which besides signaling an obvious mistake to the audience, it would make the stage dangerously slippery. Or the liquid could simply spill onto the actors, which could stain and possibly ruin someone's costume or shoes. And if a glass fell to the floor and broke into many sharp pieces, that would surely spell disaster. Nobody wants to see that.

But, in spite of these and so many other reasons, we occasionally take the risk and use real liquids in Jersey Boys. Why? Sometimes, when scenes are 'smash-cut' right into other scenes again and again, we’ll get stranded onstage for long periods of time, unable to quench our thirst before singing a big number. Luckily for us, the original creative team figured out a way to get us some liquids onstage just when we need it most. Here are Top 5 places during the show that I get me some liquid relief.

  1. On Crewe’s Couch.

My first onstage drink occurs in Act 1 during Bob’s season, “Spring”. We're enjoying a celebratory ‘shot’ with Bob Crewe, rejoicing in the fact that we’ve got the money together for our first recording session. The ‘shot’, which I assume is meant to be whiskey (Canadian Club, perhaps?) is a delicious room-temperature Iced Tea, and it perfectly whet’s the whistle for the next section leading up to the Big Three, ‘Sherry’, ‘Big Girls Don’t Cry’ and ‘Walk Like A Man’. Hmm, maybe drinking the Iced Tea is the secret for hitting all those high notes...

The photo below is of the original Chicago cast - that's Dominic Scaglioni as Frankie and fellow Canadian Jeremy Kushnier as Tommy. A good friend of mine, Jeremy was also the original Tommy in Toronto. In the moment captured below, you can tell he's very upset that he didn't get any Iced Tea, too.

                                                                                                            (Photo by Craig Laurie )

         2. In Gyp’s Basement.

In the dramatic ‘Sitdown’ scene early in Act 2, the four of us head into Gyp’s basement with loan-shark Norm Waxman to broker a deal to settle Tommy’s debt. In a stroke of luck, Gyp has thoughtfully provided us with some nice Italian Red Wine on the table. Unluckily for us, it’s not actually wine, but a very sweet grape juice. Welch's, I think. Whatever it is, it’s a welcome way for me to keep my voice hydrated in the middle of what’s probably a 30-minute stretch of singing and acting without exiting the stage. Hmm, maybe drinking Welches makes me belt better ...

In this tense photo below of the 2nd US National Tour, Nick is asking Gyp for some more Welch's, but no one moves a muscle.

                                                                                                               (Photo by Joan Marcus)

         3. In The Diner.

About 15 minutes later, there’s an awesome scene in a Diner where Bob tells Frankie that he’s also leaving the group, and tries to convince Frankie that things will work better this way. I love that scene for so many reasons. First, it really shows the depth of their relationship and highlights not only Bob’s intelligence but also his understanding of Frankie. Secondly, it shows Frankie having a rare moment of vulnerability, briefly opening up a softer side by confiding in Bob his fears and distressed feelings. And the scene manages all this in a believable way, with a nice dose of humour to boot. One other touch I love (although I only know it exists because I’ve seen it as an audience member – it literally happens silently behind my back) is when the waitress and bus boy overhear us talking and realize that they are actually in the presence of ‘celebrities’. Major kudos go to writers Marshall Brickman, Rick Elice and director Des McAnuff for this scene. 

Oh – and there’s one last great thing I love about this scene - I get to drink some more of that delicious room-temperature Iced Tea, just enough to keep the chords moist for the next ten minutes or so. Much to Bob's surprise, it makes me so happy that I get up and do a Happy Dance, which is captured in this rare archival photo below.

         4. On The Spiral Staircase.

Later on in Act 2 during the "Winter-of-my-discontent" section, in a 90-second burst of energy I sing ‘Mary-Ann’, blast out a monologue setting up a scene between Bob and the record company executives, and finally head up the spiral staircase to catch my breath, out of the light. Luckily for me, there is a little ledge hidden near the top of the staircase with a tiny Frankie-sized water bottle just waiting to be used. 

In those few seconds before the light comes back up, I enjoy a nice drink of water and empty my pockets - I place onto the ledge the (fake) microphone that I’ve been singing into and the pack of (fake) smokes in my jacket pocket. The drink is just what the doctor ordered before launching into ‘Can’t Take My Eyes Off Of You’ and ‘Workin’ My Way Back To You’, two of the most challenging songs in the show.

Despite what you may think, this is not a photo of me. It is, however, fellow Canadian Kara Tremel of the Vegas company, playing Mary. Although I couldn't find a photo of a Frankie up there, I thought you might enjoy seeing Kara sitting on the spiral staircase, holding a plastic glass filled with coloured water and plastic ice cubes, complete with a sealed plastic lid. Awesome.

                                                                                                             (Photo by Joan Marcus)

         5. On The Hospital Bench.

After singing those two huge songs and delivering another monologue, we segue into the section preceding ‘Fallen Angel’. I haven't been offstage for about 30 minutes, and at this point of the show – 2 hours in and 21 songs down - my voice is very tired. I finish the monologue, sit on the bench, and a nurse comes out and gives me a nice white box. Although that was very kind of her, I kinda appreciate the Priest a bit more because when he comes out, he hands me a Styrofoam cup holding a few sips of water. Although, I gotta be honest with you, sometimes I wish it was scotch. (Ok, most times I wish it was scotch, but what are you gonna do.) 

Funny thing about this moment - sometimes when I bring the cup to my mouth, it smells ever so faintly of hand sanitizer. This makes me smile on the inside, because it tells me that the actor playing the Priest, Enrico Mammarella, probably just sanitized his hands backstage, and is trying not to transfer any germs on to me. Personally, I’d rather not get a whiff hand sanitizer up my nose before singing, but at this moment, it’s still worth it for that lovely sip of germ-free water.

    

This is Rebecca Jayne Davies as Francine and Ryan Molloy as Frankie of the London company. Here, she's saying to Ryan, "It's OK, the show's almost over. You'll get offstage soon. Then you can drink whatever you want." (Photo by Brinkhoff/Mögenburg) 

JB Top 5's: 5 Moments That Make My Heart Soar

Incredibly, after a nearly four-year run, Jersey Boys Australia will take its final bow in about six weeks. One of the world's most successful musicals in decades has certainly been a hit Down Under, as it has around the world. And for me, this will mark the third time I will be saying "Bye Bye, Baby" to the show. Will this time be for good? Who knows.

      Facing another closing night has inspired me to look back and examine my time with this show. And because I think you might find it interesting, I've decided to share some of these thoughts with you. Specifically, my goal is to put into words exactly what it's like to be an actor playing this iconic person in this famous band in this amazing show, six nights a week. 

      This will be the first post in what I hope will be a series of retrospective musings on playing Frankie Valli in the hit show Jersey Boys.

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     Today's subject: The Top 5 Moments That Make My Heart Soar.

      Although I'm coming up on my 700th performance as Frankie Valli in Jersey Boys, there are still moments in every single show that give me a thrill - you know, when you get that little shiver down your spine, or maybe that little tingle behind your ears when you smile really big? Me, my arms come alive with goosebumps.

      Every so often, a new moment will surprise me, but here are the five events that do it to me, every single show. Guaranteed.

     1. Singing "Walk Like A Man".

      As a piece of theatre, Jersey Boys is constructed extremely well. The shows opens with a bang, and then it zips along at breakneck speed, drawing you into the world of 1950s New Jersey. You meet all these interesting characters, and are captivated by the story... but you've yet to hear any of their big hits! Just when the anticipation in the crowd can't possibly get any higher - BAM! - you get hit with "Sherry", "Big Girls Don't Cry" and "Walk Like A Man", the Big Three, back to back to back. 

      Singing "Walk Like A Man" is like skiing down a Black Diamond run. It's like bungee jumping off a suspension bridge. It's like mountain-biking down a rugged hillside. You grab on tight, say a prayer, and give 'er. It's full-out fun, and it's over before you know it.

     The Big Three requires me to sing the highest notes in my show as loudly and for as long as I possibly can. And, it's frickin' hard, people! The range is pretty ridiculous, and screaming out and holding soprano F's for eight counts is not easy. Repeatedly transitioning between my chest voice and falsetto is also extremely difficult. And then there's the choreography on top of the singing... my heart pounds, the lungs ache for air, but I still need to hold that last note - a high D - for a full 12 counts. The volume increases, the notes rise, "Like A Man...!" the bass thumps "Ba-da-da-Dum!" and the audience goes crazy.

      Sure, it feels great to hear the crowd roar and applaud. But beyond that, it's an awesome feeling because when I get to the end, I know I've survived the challenge. At that point, with the crowd cheering, when the physical exertion combines with the excellence of execution, and I'm left with the after-glow of a good adrenaline rush. ... BOOM! Goosebumps.

     2. Singing "Can't Take My Eyes Off Of You".

      Again, you have to give major credit to director Des McAnuff and writers Marshall Brickman and Rick Elice for constructing such an incredible show. The buildup in Act 2 to this song is exquisitely written. We see Tommy and Nick leave the group. Bob and Frankie try to figure out how to keep the band going while still making enough money to pay off the Mobsters. The we see Bob leave the group. We watch Frankie strain under the pressure of this burden. His relationships with his ex-wife, daughter, and girlfriend all fray like the end of a rope. When Frankie hits rock bottom, we then see the glimmer of hope for Frankie in Bob's dedication and friendship. Bob pushes hard to get a song that nobody believes in played on the radio. Frankie gets one last chance, to sing this song with everything on the line. And then, in a tight spotlight, a single mic rises out of the pit. Thrillingly, it all comes down to this one moment.

      I get to step into the light and sing this hauntingly beautiful song. No, not just sing. My vocal chords may form the words and pitches, but I squeeze out my heart and soul, I wring out all my hopes and dreams onto the sound. I sing it to my wife, I sing it to my kids, to the life-force; I sing it to my muse, my inspiration, my joy of music, of singing, of creating and expressing; I sing it for my two grandfathers and my parents whose musical genes have thankfully been passed down into my every cell. And when I hold the last note of the penultimate phrase, "And let me love you baby, let me love you..." and sit in that silence for just a second, it's like ecstasy... It feels like 2000 people are just holding their breath... and finally, with all my remaining strength, I offer up my best "You're just too good to be true...!" holding that last note as long and strong as I can ... when the band, my voice and finally the crowd all swell at the same time ... BOOM! Goosebumps. 

      Every single night the applause at this moment feels unbelievably amazing, and that smile that I break into is absolutely genuine. I touch my heart out of deep appreciation for having been given this gift by the audience (and the casting directors!) and wave thank you to them for sharing it with me. I'm a lucky guy. Seriously lucky.

     3. Singing "Working My Way Back To You".

      With new wind in my sails from singing "Can't Take..." and a feeling that I can conquer anything, we launch right into this song. From Day 1 of rehearsing this number all the way back in November, 2008 (!) the choreography has always felt incredible. Now, if you know me at all, you'll realize that this last statement is a complete shocker. That I should feel incredible the first time rehearsing any choreography is a huge surprise. But seriously, Sergio Trujillo, take a bow for your outstanding work. And Danny Austin, take one too, for teaching it to me. Standing there as I do, on a 45-degree angle with my legs strong and wide, heels popping and twisting, snapping along to the sick groove in the band, I feel like the Heavyweight champion of the world. (OK, more like the Lightweight champion... but you get the idea.)

     The whole song is a thrill for me. After grooving upstage, I get to come down and sing a couple lines directly to a lovely lady in the first couple rows. I get to strut my way across to downstage centre. I get to wail some crazy high notes. And then I get to prowl downstage like a freaking tiger, flanked on both sides by two talented band-mates. We're Rock Stars, man!

      The movements perfectly match how I feel, how I imagine Frankie would feel in that moment. They match the way the song sounds, they suit the lyrics, and importantly, they let me wail out the notes over top. And singing this song is not easy, either, especially after having sung 20 other songs already. Most of this song's long, high phrases need to be belted in full chest voice. On one particular two-bar phrase, I need to rise out of my chest-voice, slip into falsetto, and slam back into chest again. Then, to top it all off, I have to hit the highest belted note in my show - a B-flat. Switching between the registers and still sounding great is a huge challenge. But, I love that challenge, and rising to it here in this moment is a thrill. When I finish the song with "I Let it get away....!" and I hold that last note, right arm rising to the rafters ... BOOM! Goosebumps.

     4. Singing "Who Loves You".

      This is the final song in the show, and as such, it marks the end of an incredibly emotional journey, both for the audience and for me. It's also the end of two and a half hours of hard work. So, when you combine the two together, I'm spent. As exhausted as I may be, it's absolutely thrilling to sing this song. It's high and hard to sing, sure, but seeing each of the guys come down to join me at the mic fills me with energy. The Four Seasons family is back together for one last hit song. It's magic.

      I get more energized when the rest of the cast run onstage, take their places, and join in with their incredible voices. I remember feeling pure elation the first time I saw this moment as an audience member. And while singing this song, I can see the elation in the eyes of the people sitting in the first couple rows. The song builds to its climax, we grab our mics and come right down on the lip of the stage. The four of us share a meaningful final look and acknowledge all we've been through. We're survivors. And, like that famous song goes, we did it our way. 

      Then, finally, we sing one last crazy highnote-filled chord, we hit our final pose, the band nails their thrilling button. The lights snap to black... the crowd goes absolutely nuts... and in that moment... BOOM! Goosebumps.

     5. Running onstage for the Bows, and singing the reprise of "December '63".

      Again, the crowd goes nuts seeing the four of us run out of the wings and downstage for our bow. Even though it seems impossible, the audience is louder at this point than they've been all show. Technically at this point, the show is over, so we can loosen up a little bit. In a small way, I start to shed a tiny bit of Frankie's skin and fully enjoy the experience. The choreography is so fun to do, the song is great fun to sing, and watching the crowd sing, dance and clap along is a real treat.

      And that's when it hits me. To be involved in a show this successful is such a thrill. It is also extremely rare. Seriously. In fifteen years in the business, in 25 years of going to the theatre, I have almost never seen this type of reaction from the crowd at the end of the show. And to know that in some small way, my own hard work, dedication and talent have helped to create the magic that is the catalyst for this reaction... well, I almost can't describe how awesome that feels. And that feeling, well... you guessed it. Goosebumps.