OZ IS A REAL PLACE

I Can’t Finish Articles Anymore

My flying monkey role is too important

Maybe there is a third explanation for my lack of ability to get much writing published. I’m in a play.

One of our cast members was sporting a T-shirt the other night that read:

“I can’t. I have rehearsal.”

I thought it was funny until the rehearsal vortex sucked us all into Week Ten, and we still have three weeks to go!

There’s no use complaining: Dorothy, the Scarecrow, Tin Man, Lion, and the Witch have been on this grueling three-night-a-week schedule since day one.

I found out the other night that Aunty Em has been baking cookies for everyone from the beginning. She quietly brings them in a large Tupperware container and leaves it on one of the tables. The treats get scarfed down unevenly: the lead flying monkey is eating a half-dozen, and that goes for one of the farm hands, too. Meanwhile, I’ve discovered two of the Jitterbugs are gluten-free, so they eat none at all.

Come to think of it, I noticed one of the gluten-free Jitterbugs grab a cookie the other day and I judged her instantly and harshly. Just how gluten-free are you, lady?

I really had no room for opprobrium. I mean, the poor thing has to wear that stupid bumblebee costume that everybody’s bitching about.

Driving Through Nevada

I’ve been chatting a lot with The Guard. In the movie, the actor who played The Emerald City Guard was also the Wizard and Professor Marvel from early in the play.

In this play, there are too many scene changes to have actors (and I use that term loosely) do double duty. Plus, we don’t have a horse, so when he says:

“Well, that’s a horse of a different color,” you miss the line.

The Guard is 87 years old, so he has a lot of life stories. It’s like we’re on a road trip, where you end up telling your life story to a stranger and in the process, realize you’ve done a lot of stupid shit.

The problem is we’ve been driving through the windswept nothingness of Nevada for way too long.

I’ve noticed one Ozlandian is knitting; another plays solitaire on her tablet.

I guess I’ll schlepp my laptop in next week and practice blackjack. I don’t want to be anti-social but all this waiting around is grueling — and my life story seems to be getting duller each night.

We’ve all been consigned to an auxiliary room, a kind of backstage purgatory except we’re still rehearsing at the church. I’ve already learned all my lines, but I’ll get to that part shortly.

The most interesting thing I’ve learned from The Guard is his wife, who manages the sound effects, used to be a truck driver for a roadie crew for rock n’ roll bands for years, and she had a bright red afro, to boot.

The funny thing about old ladies with white hair is it's always surprising to find out they once dropped acid with Credence Clearwater Revival.

The Role of a Lifetime

I had a deep desire to get the role of flying monkey, otherwise I might never have joined The Players.

I am Flying Monkey #3. I have no name and no lines. All I do is jump up and down and make screeching monkey sounds. It’s the smallest part unless you include Ozlandians and Munchkins and Jitterbugs, but they have to dance and that means lots of rehearsal.

Monkey #2 (who also plays Zeke, one of the farmhands), had a brilliant idea for us to pick bugs off each other and eat them. The director liked this, so it’s part of our routine.

We have three scenes, and the first two are standing around listening to instructions from the Witch. When she says something truly evil, we hop up and down and make approving simian exclamations.

It’s even more fun than it sounds.

In the third scene, I get to rip off the Scarecrow’s legs.

This role is everything I dreamed of: the least amount of responsibility with the most amount of attention. Everyone seems to love us, plus we get to wear full-body monkey suits with tails.

I think this might be why the lead monkey, Nikko, can get away with eating so many cookies. It’s hard to say no to a lovable, hungry chimp.

I’m probably jinxing myself and both other monkeys, but it’s pretty hard to screw this up. This is the role of a lifetime for someone with no acting talent, who can’t dance or sing or project.

Plus, I have nowhere to go but up into the stratosphere for my next part, which might have lines.

It Will All Be Over Soon

Since I’m only a monkey, I volunteered to paint boulders. I have decent skill with pen or brush, so I can help — plus the stage manager broke her leg on Week Two and she’s in a wheelchair. Her husband (the Lion) is schlepping her around and learning to sing and dance.

Set painting has been put off for weeks, and now I’m regretting saying yes because I’m tired of spending what feels like 40 hours a week (it’s only 10) rehearsing.

I’m slightly nervous but I guess the purgatory-like existence of waiting around for hours has a purpose: I’m really looking forward to the show.

In the waiting room, I’m plum out of chit-chat tales, and the other day I swear the Tin Man was trying to recruit me to his church (he’s a pastor) by talking about my passion, serial killers.

We are all out of interesting topics, so it’s come to that.

Warning: Time is Not Plentiful

If you’ve ever considered being in a play, I encourage you to run like hell in the other direction. Unless you get that peach of a role, like flying monkey.

Maybe for you, the role is Knight #4 in Camelot. We’re all different.

Putting on a play is an excellent way to meet new people, which was my second motivation beyond the obvious desirability of being what is essentially a Furry.

If you don’t want to be in a play, definitely go see some community theatre, or at the very least re-watch Waiting for Guffman. There’s no denying showbiz is more fun than a barrel of — you guessed it — apes.

We need your support because, for the most part, we aren’t actors or singers or dancers. We are people who woefully overestimate how much free time we have.

The Wizard of Oz is playing on November 17, 18, and 19 at 7 pm at the Woodlands Auditorium in Hot Springs Village. We also have a matinee on Sunday.

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Jean Campbell recently started her first Substack newsletter to laser focus on getting her book, City of Lies: A Street Hustler’s Omaha Journey published.