“Gym Dandy”: The Matinee

I recently took a few days off from directing my smash Broadway hit, “Gym Dandy”, at the advice of my producers. My dedication, although certainly admirable, was wearing me out, so instead I focused on my one-woman show at a smaller, off-Broadway venue a few blocks away in Chelsea.
Although those few days away provided some much-needed rest, I was itching to return. So I am now back on Broadway, where I’ve been supervising matinee rehearsals on those days when I just don’t feel up to participating in the early-morning sessions. And let me tell you, boils and gargoyles, that it’s pretty hilarious stuff, working with these second-rate understudies.
Most of the matinee sessions are not very well-attended, so my notes are scarce. In fact, most rehearsals have been so unremarkable that I think I may have merely dreamed them. Please note, however, that although the notes I am posting today are few, the quantity should by no means detract from their importance.
Director’s Notes (Tuesday, 9/3 through Thursday, 9/12)

  1. Counting Crones: Congratulations on learning your lines. I was thrilled to hear, literally, that you learned not only to count up to 15 but to do so while lifting weights that were about as taxing to lift as the donut you will no doubt consume tonight in celebration of your strenuous workout (you need to refuel, after all!). However, I must remind you that your lines are silent. They exist as suggested material for an internal monologue and are for your edification only. So please refrain from saying them aloud. And remember, too, not to move your lips. We can all see it. Knock it off.

  2. Schlubby Schlubberman: Although your part calls for you to be a sloth and not to exert yourself much during your so-called workout, I would really appreciate if you would pick up the pace just a little. I mean, come on. Never in my life have I seen anyone move his baggy chino’d flat ass through a turnstile on his way out of a gym with even less energy than he displayed during his workout. I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but this play is not a study in surrealism. Pick. Up. The. Fucking. Pace.
    One nice touch, though, was the way you stayed in character and didn’t hold the door open for anyone else as you exited, and then prohibited those behind you from exiting by standing on the sidewalk and looking around as if you were completely lost. Excellent ad lib!

  3. 20-Somethings #2, #3, and #5: Fantastic work. I love the way none of you exerted yourselves in the least yet plodded down the stairs on the way down to the main floor as if you’d just run the New York Marathon. Keep up the very good work.

One final note: Anya from Wardrobe just informed me that she needs to make quite a few changes to most of your costumes. Although we did originally tell you that you could choose your own wardrobe, we realize that our trust in your judgment was misplaced. We will fill you in on the changes when we meet next.
Once again, thank you all for coming. If I don’t see you again tomorrow (I may be at the early-morning rehearsal with the real cast), have a lovely weekend.