Disappointing as this news must surely be, I regret to report that I will not be appearing in the forthcoming production of The Lord of the Rings: the Musical. I failed boot camp. Let me explain.
The other night I had dinner with the show's lead producer, Kevin Wallace, and its director and co-writer, Matthew Warchus. Wallace and co-producer Saul Zaentz (in association with David Mirvish and Michael Cohl) are rolling the dice big-time with one of the world's most compelling artistic properties -- J.R.R. Tolkien's classic trilogy. On a working budget of $27-million, no stage musical in history has ever dared so much. If it works, Wallace and Co. will emerge laden with honours and not a little wealth. If it doesn't . . . well, let's not go there just now.
The verdict, of course, won't be in for some time. After several weeks in tryout mode, the show's world premiere will be held at Mirvish's Princess of Wales Theatre in Toronto next March 23 (the first tickets go on sale tomorrow at 9 a.m. at http://www.lotr.com). With luck, a second production will open in London's Dominion Theatre in the fall of 2006 or no later than the spring of 2007. And after that, the producers fervently hope: the world.
In the meantime, it seemed like a good idea to chronicle various aspects of the most ambitious musical ever mounted -- from casting, costumes and choreography to marketing, makeup and modern technology (the last of which includes 18 mini-elevators, now being assembled in London, that will be used to move 52 actors constantly around and above the 30-tonne, $1.2-million stage).
Wallace and Warchus thought it wasn't a bad idea either, and invited me along one day this week to watch what they affectionately called "boot camp." They are, they explained, in the second round of auditions, seeing candidates called back for second viewings. Obviously they are looking for people with magical chops in the singing and acting departments. Less obviously they are also looking for people who have the energy and stamina to handle a physically demanding (punishing is probably the more apt word) 3½-hour show, eight times a week for at least a year (the minimum contract period).
So while Wallace and Warchus sat in one audition room hearing the singers sing and the actors act, I sat in another with Rob Tannion and Alex Frith. They are the Lords of the Mats, the Vaulting Box and other equipment more typically found in fitness studios or gymnasia than in theatre rehearsal halls.
Here's what happens. If, after running the gauntlets of Wallace and Warchus, you're still a candidate for a role, you're sent down the hall to Tannion's and Frith's Definitely Not For the Faint of Heart Boot Camp. The only exemptions are actors being considered for non-physical roles.
Tannion, 35, originally from Brisbane, Australia, is the show's associate choreographer and fitness adviser. Frith, 32, a Brit, is acting as its circus-skills consultant. Using gymnastic props, techno music, and their own ingenuity, they have devised a 45-minute routine that takes one's breath away. Literally.
"The basic objective," says Tannion, a former dancer and fitness instructor, "is to look at core physical fitness, at cardiovascular fitness, and see how people deal with obstacles, and how they move as performers. So strength, endurance, yes, but also: Can they take risks safely, can they move creatively? The tests are tough on purpose, because what we do know is that the show is long and demanding, and you're going to have to be fit. And don't forget -- an audition is two ways. Some people may decide it's not the show for them."
Enter two actors, both seasoned. Ralph (a pseudonym) is 52, and built like a former linebacker -- that is, he's carrying a few extra pounds. The other, Geoff Tyler, who appeared in the recent Mirvish production of The Producers, is 35, lean and lanky, with a dancer's body.
After a few preliminary questions about fitness and fight skills, the audition begins. The first test is for balance. Standing, the actors are told to hold arms akimbo and raise one leg pointed off the floor. Then they close their eyes and try to hold the pose for as long as possible. Then they do the other leg. Geoff is pretty comfortable with this routine and barely stumbles; Ralph struggles, and afterward mouths "It's harder than it looks" in my direction.
Then, on a large, soft gym mat, Ralph and Geoff are asked to run on the spot for a full minute, lifting their legs knee-high to slap their palms. It's amazing how long a minute can seem. For the first 30 seconds, both actors get their knees up smoothly and with good pace. Then the strain starts to show. By the last 20 seconds, both have lost their form and are breathing heavily.
And they've only begun. The next test is a 30-second variation. From a squatting position, they must leap into the air and bring their knees up into a tuck. Thirty seconds of rest, otherwise known as heavy breathing, and then burpees -- the staple of many fitness regimens -- for 30 seconds. By this time, both actors are perspiring. "This is unique," says Ralph, sucking up air. "I've never had this kind of audition before."
With each exercise, the actors must count the number of completions; these are dutifully recorded and will later be compared against those of other performers.
One minute later, with their chests still heaving, Tannion asks them to hold their breath for as long as possible -- another important measure of general fitness. The worst, in a sense, is now over, but what follows is no less challenging.
To a five-minute piece of upbeat music, the actors are instructed to move creatively, without lapsing into formalized dance routines or emotional expression. And after that, they must twice navigate an obstacle course of mats and platforms of different heights, leaping from one to another, before "dying" from the height of the vault box onto a mat. Again, Tannion explains, he's looking not just for physical agility, but for how the actors creatively respond to the test, never showing the same move twice.
Afterward, Ralph says his legs are "like jelly," and he feels "whipped." But the audition has not changed his mind about wanting to be in the show. "It'll be a challenge, should they decide to put me through this. I wasn't as prepared for this as I might have been, but who would be?" Even Tyler, 17 years younger and in better shape, says he "feels like vomiting. It's like military fitness. It was pretty intense, for sure."
I spend the next few hours watching Tannion and Frith put several other actors through their paces. "Awesome," says Raymond Miller, a 23-year-old actor/dancer who shows one of the best levels of fitness I see.. "The toughest thing I've done. Not just all year, but all career. It was brutal, but I loved it."
Jay T. Schramek, 27, who starred recently in Batboy: the Musical and was in Mamma Mia! for a couple of years, says what he appreciated was that "the physicality came from such an organic place -- the movement and the flow are connected to the scenery and the set, as well as to the actor. It's brilliantly challenging because it's thought-provoking, not just endurance-challenging. It'll be an awesome show."
Crystal Martinez, currently in Mamma Mia!, calls it "one of the toughest fitness tests I've ever had. I've never experienced anything like this before."
Later, both Tannion and Frith say they were impressed with the general fitness of the actors, but that it was clear they were pushing themselves hard. "It's very telling when you can only hold your breath, after the cardio tests, for six seconds," Frith says. "If you're really fit, it should be 16 seconds."
Of course, fitness is only one barometer, and in some ways will only complicate the casting process. In each case, the producers and director will have to weigh acting and singing skills against levels of strength, agility and endurance.
They won't have to weigh mine, however.
During the third set of auditions, drill sergeants Tannion and Frith coerced me into trying the first cardio test -- the running-on-the-spot, knees-against-palms exercise. The first 30 seconds were a breeze, and I was safely into average territory with a count of 110 slaps. Everything after that is lost in a painful haze. I don't know where my count finished. I was too exhausted to count, my dreams of playing Aragorn or Frodo shattered.
In The Lord of the Rings trilogy, Legolas says, "few can foresee whither their road will lead them, till they come to its end." I can foresee, because my road just did.
The Road to the Rings will be an occasional series in Review.