So Easy Being Cheesy

If you are thinking about seeing the show tonight, it's sold out.

But here's an 80's fix for you from one of the authors of the HIT SOLD OUT SHOW, Kirk Pynchon.

Hey, Kirk. What's so funny? Seriously. Stop laughing.

Remember when headshots were in black and white? Like 90 years ago.

I wonder what that shirt feels like.




SO EASY BEING CHEESY

By Kirk Pynchon

The summer of my sixteenth year I thought I was the coolest motherfucker on the planet. Not because I had my own car (a 1983 blue Oldsmobile Cutlass Sierra previously owned by my mom). Not because I started wearing two different types of cologne (Polo in the day, Drakkar Noir in the evening). Not even because I started dressing like Don Johnson from “Miami Vice”(who was, and still is, something of a mentor to me). No, I was cool because I spent the Sunday nights of my summer hanging out at a nightclub called The Cosmopolitan or, for those in the know, Cosmo for short. Sure, The Cosmo was an under eighteen club that served no booze and was located deep in the burbs of Cleveland, Ohio, but what did that matter? I was a clubman and The Cosmo was my home.

The Cosmo was located at the very end of a shopping mall in Mentor, Ohio, about an hour outside of Cleveland. This being the Midwest, the club was very democratic. There was no doorman, no velvet ropes, no VIP’s. You simply walked up to the front door, paid your five-dollar cover and entered the hippest place on earth.

To be honest, I’m sure that the inside of The Cosmo looked like a nightclub on the ground floor of a Ramada Inn located just outside of any major U.S. airport. But at sixteen, to me it was the epicenter of all things cool. Strobe lights, dry ice machines, loud 80’s dance music, and chicks with ridiculously big hair – The Cosmo had everything. And I was a part of it.

One of the greatest and coolest moments of my life happened one night at The Cosmo – which makes me quite the sentimentalist or just plain pathetic. I was on the dance floor grooving to “Can You Feel the Beat” by Lisa Lisa and Cult Jam. I had just performed my patented spin move, you know, the one where I spin around one and a half times rather than once because one spin is for pussies? And as I finished my turn, there she was: the cutest girl I had ever seen. She wore long spandex pants and a huge, oversized paisley shirt. Brightly colored, neon bracelets covered one arm. She wore earrings so big they could choke a donkey. And she had the biggest fucking hair I had ever seen. It was massive. It was more than just a hairdo – it was a lifestyle. She might have been wearing perfume, but it didn’t matter as I was intoxicated by the overwhelming smell of her Aqua Net Hairspray.

I slow motion walked over to her and immediately started dancing. Didn’t talk, didn’t ask, didn’t beg. Just immediately started dancing in front of her. She couldn’t resist me. She couldn’t resist my incredibly moussed hair. She couldn’t resist my white sports jacket with the sleeves rolled up and the collar popped. She was mine.

As we danced she told me her name was Trisha and she worked weekends at The Chess King (I quickly made a mental note: “If I start dating her seriously, I bet I could get a discount!”). We danced with each other to every song. We danced to the good – “Kiss” by Prince, “Word Up” by Cameo. We danced to the bad – “Take Me Home Tonight” by Eddie Money, “Dancing on the Ceiling” by Lionel Richie. And we danced to the just plain bizarre – “St. Elmo’s Fire” by John Parr? The thing was, it didn’t matter what song we danced to. All that mattered was that I was a dude grinding with a chick without any parental supervision.

Then the DJ, as if he knew ahead of time that Trish and I were meant to be together, slowed things down and spun “Broken Wings” by Mister Mister. I looked at Trisha. Trisha looked at me. No words were spoken. We started to slow dance. Trisha put her head on my slightly hairy chest and we just swayed. She looked up at me with those big, heavy, mascara eyes and smiled. I felt like we were the only two people on the dance floor. I felt like we were the only two people in the world. We were one.

So I sang to her.

“Take these broken wings/And learn to fly again/Learn to live so free”

“When we hear/The voices sing/The book of love will open up and let us in”

(And yes, I whispered the “Yeah Yeahs” right after the chorus. I whispered it right in her ear. Cause I was that cool.)

As the night drew to a close (this being an underage club, I think all of us had eleven o’clock curfews), I decided to take it to the next level.

“So,” I asked Trisha, “Can I call you sometime?”

Trish smiled and took out a pen from her silver studded purse.

“Do you have anything to write on?”

I looked around, hoping to find a cocktail napkin at the bar, but there was nothing. I guess teenagers really, really need something to rest their Pepsis on. I knew I’d never remember her number and yet I knew that I had to have it. I couldn’t leave The Cosmo and never see this girl again.

Then it hit me in a flash: A way to get her number and a way to impress her at the same time. Suavely, I pulled out my wallet, you know, the ones that velcroed, pulled out a one-dollar bill, gazed into her eyes…

…And ripped it in half.

“Here, “ I said, casually handing her half of the dollar, “write it on this.”

Trisha’s eyes widened in astonishment. She might have thought I was extremely rich. She might have thought I was incredibly cocky. She might have thought I was a bad ass for committing a felony. But, regardless of what she thought, I knew that at the very least, she thought I was fucking cool. *

(*I have since told my wife this story, and all she has to say about it is, “You dumb ass. Why would you waste a dollar like that?”)

Trisha wrote down her number, leaned in and kissed me. She tasted like watermelon and I could feel just a hint of a moustache on her upper lip (which I actually was a little jealous of).

“Call me soon,” is all she said.

I wish I could say that the rest of the summer was as magical as that night at The Cosmopolitan. But, alas, it was not. Though we did a lot of dry humping that summer in the backseat of my car, Trisha was not the girl for me. In fact, she turned out to be a ball buster and an incredible pain in the ass, and when she got grounded for an entire month at the end of the summer, our relationship died. I never got that discount at The Chess King.

But I will never forget that incredible moment we shared at that nightclub. And I’m pretty sure Trisha didn’t either.

One year later I went back to The Cosmo and nothing had changed. The strobe lights, dry ice machines and the 80’s dance music were still there. Except The Cosmo was no longer an underage nightclub.

It was now a Laser Tag Center.

Opening Night

Cat Dughi and Jill Oliver

Now that's what I'm talkin' about.

Dancing ladies makes Mike Ooi a little too excited.

Wait. Sorry. That's just a cupcake.

Aileen May and Esteban Andres Cruz

They don't have to take their clothes off to have a good time.

They can dance and party all night. And drink some cherry wine.

UH HUH!

Colin Milroy, the face behind the magic, and Sara Sevigny, the magic, enjoy some crazy green trashcan punch that was CRAZY.

Angelina Martinez and the Bollo

Only rock stars allowed at this party.

Casey Pilkenton and Jacob Ware.

Which one needs help standing?

DJ Chas Vrba, Allison Cain and Noah Simon

Without you, we would be nothing. NOTHING!!!!!

Lovers.

Thank you Factory for a kickass opening night!

Factory Theater is a Goddamn Chicago Treasure

Check out TimeOut Chicago's Review of Hey! Dancin'!

May we all just take a moment and agree that the Factory Theater is a goddamn Chicago treasure? In the homeland of scrappy ensembles achieving longevity on their own DIY terms, the Factory’s 18-year run and uncompromisingly weirdo aesthetic deserve praise. There may be no other company that so shamelessly, and regularly, dials up to 11.

Hey! Dancin’!, the company’s latest, sounds nightmarish on paper. It’s 1986, and two silly girls sneak onto their favorite cable-access dance show to hook up with their dreamy guys of choice. The host is named after a douche, the middle-aged station manager is a pillow fetishist, and there’s a magical black girl sent by Prince to save us all. Factory member Beyer and former ensemble member Pynchon, who’ve separately penned multiple scripts for the company, push the ridiculous further than you’d think possible, taking a Saved by the Bell premise to a cocaine-punched conclusion.

First-time director Graber makes sure the plot moves but wisely focuses on the far funnier ’80s stereotypes trapped inside it. The cast is stellar, playing parodies of parodies. Catherine Dughi infuses wanna-be slut Trisha with precision ditziness, while Aileen May’s resident mean girl has a soul as acid-washed as her fringe jacket. Rachel Sypniewski’s costumes are both far too much and just right, down to the purple suede, red vinyl and $14 shades. What could have been a pop-reference death march is, in the Factory’s hands, cheap, relentless and hysterical.

Read more: http://chicago.timeout.com/articles/theater/84064/hey-dancin-at-the-factory-theater-theater-review#ixzz0j1HOcrr6

The Insider: Opening Weekend

I love surprises. Pleasant ones especially, and this past weekend had a couple.

Opening weekend for Hey! Dancin'! is in the bag. As expected, the cast did their work in dazzling fashion. I cannot adequately commend the wonderful attitudes, dedicated energy, and extreme hotness of every cast member with my words. They are golden. The wonderful theater they create needs to be seen and absorbed to its full effect. These beauties are supported by the smartest and sexiest crew there is. I'm so happy with all the technical elements that support the production. I love all these folks. So go see what they've made. It is a wonder to behold.

But on to the surprises. The first happy one was the huge number of people who have already seen the show. Previews were nearly (or completely) sold out every night. Previews! Opening night was sold out, and even with some attendance drop-off Saturday and Sunday, the total attendance for this weekend was astonishing. Good crowds were expected, but having to turn people away during Previews was not, nor was what came as surprise #2.

This next big surprise was the deviously executed operation of sneaking co-playwright Kirk Pynchon from Los Angeles into Chicago for Opening Night. This operation was so stealthy that even this Insider was unaware. The cast and local fan girls of Kirk Pynchon, Jet Set hottie, collectively squealed with glee upon his entrance.

Based on the loud laughter I've heard from the lobby, our audiences are enjoying themselves. As I write this, we have gotten one review so far, and it is very positive. I hope that this tremendously successful first weekend rolls into an amazing run. Part of that depends on you, dear reader, and when you see the show. Please do so, if you haven't already. You'll love it. That will come as no surprise.

Why We Love* the 80's Part I: My Hair

Hey! Dancin'! is really bringing back the good ol' 1986 memories. Out of everything that comes to mind when I think of my childhood during that great* decade, what really stands out are my epic struggles...with my hair.

Now, granted, that gorgeous* lady isn't me, but because I couldn't find any pics of my own 80's hair ("couldn't" meaning "wouldn't") she graciously donated her face for this post.

80's hair was big. And my baby-fine, heat-resistant, curl-resistant, everything-resistant coif just wasn't up to the challenge. I tried to spiral perm my hair so many times that I'm shocked it didn't simply go on strike and fall out. I remember buying bottles of Rave #4 and using an old tooth brush and a curling iron with a circumference the size of a fishing pole to coax my bangs 3 inches off my forehead -- only to watch them wilt and fall the moment I stepped out into a mild breeze.

But the ultimate futility?

Banana clips.

Other girls had curly, frosted-tip manes flowing in a perfectly centered cascade down the middle of their backs while I had long, anemic straggles, incapable of even holding the clip in. Walking down the hallway at school was inevitably too much jostling for my languid hair to handle, and the clip would simply slide all the way down and sit on my back or, worse yet, completely drop out and hit the floor.

Hey! Factory! How about doing a show that takes place in the 90's? Flannels, ripped jeans, baggy clothes...not only could I finally put away my pencil-sized curling iron and bottles of Aussie Liquid Cement spray, but also I didn't even have to wash my hair. In fact, not washing my hair made me look fashionable! Now that's my kind of decade.

Key:

*- an indication of slight sarcasm

The Hey! Dancin'! Video Promo

Many thanks to the incredible duo of Mike Tutaj and Elizabeth McQuern for putting this together. Feast your eyes and ears:

The Insider: The Dance So Far

I positively crackle with excitement as I write this. It’s taken me a while to write about this next great Factory play and I have seen so much to like about the production during that time. The energies building around Factory’s production of Hey! Dancin'! for the past six weeks are hyper-electric. Watching everyone involved lower their heads and charge into the fun makes me giddy. The process cranked to an even higher notch when Chicago was graced by world class cable access chick magnet Kirk Pynchon this past weekend. Kirk dragged himself off the silicon-soaked, botox-infested breast of Los Angeles to make a spectacular return to Chicago and provide choreography for this swinging text he created with Mike Beyer. Based on the swoons of passion I’ve heard from the cast, Kirk’s visit was a resounding success. I can’t wait to see the results.

So, this Insider has so much to review. The cast is stunning. They blend and bond so well. I’m dumbfounded that we could assemble this much talent in one place and not have faces melt. If you think I exaggerate, I dare you to come see what this cast can do. What they’ve created so far on just a bare stage is captivating. I’m so damn thrilled with every single friggin one of them. We are fortunate to have this level of talent to help us produce this play.

Speaking of producing, I personally count my blessings with this production crew. Another amazing level of talent in each area. I’m fortunate to be surrounded by these fine, savvy technicians with mad skills. Their designs and dedicated work running the show will be a big piece of the spectacular dancing pie that the audience will eagerly devour. Based on the response from the rousing Launch Party at Chief O’Neill’s on February 18, we’ve got a show that will thrill. In short, I am really pleased with the process to this point.

So that’s the dance so far. Roaring with promise beyond my wildest expectations. We have a ways to go yet. There’s still a few weeks before the first preview. The cast is off book and will incorporate the choreography this week. The designers start their constructing, painting, recording, focusing, cueing, and fitting as we lead up to Load-In. We've got a lot of parts in place already. Still, many things could happen between now and when the first audience arrives. Tech week will be the usual marathon for everyone. For the cast and crew, I hope for nothing worse than soreness and fatigue from all this dancing and producing. I hope that everyone feels fulfilled in their work. I personally love watching every piece of this production machine go. With Superwoman Sarah Rose Graber steering the ship (one couldn’t ask for a better production partner), we can navigate through the choppy waters. I'm so grateful for the support from those around me in the production, both inside and outside the crew. I believe all the time, hard work, and sweet dance moves going into this production will be rewarded. For what it’s worth, I’m the show’s biggest groupie. I’m as excited to be backstage with these rock stars as the bubbliest teenager from the 80’s. Come and see for yourself.

PS: coming soon is a video promo for this show that’ll blow your leg warmers off. I’ll let you know where to find it as soon as it’s available.

Audition Notice for Factory's Spring Show

Like REO says, keep on rollin'. 1985 is open to rave reviews and Hunky Dory is hot on its heels. Get your tickets for these fantastic shows! See them individually or take in a double feature! With these two terrific shows in full operation, the Factory rolls out auditions for Hey! Dancin!, the first show of the 2010 season.

Here's the official announcement:

The Factory Theater holds auditions for "Hey! Dancin'!" by Kirk Pynchon and Mike Beyer at the Prop Theater, 3504 N. Elston. Slots available on December 5 from 1:00 PM to 4:00 PM and December 6 from 12:00 PM to 3:00 PM. You will be asked to do a cold reading and to show us some of your dance moves. Looking for men and women from early 20's to late 40's who move, celebrate big hair and dig the 1980's music. The show runs March 12th-April 24th. Email headshot and resume to Producer Colin Milroy at colinmilroy@gmail.com. Further Factory information: www.thefactorytheater.com.

Send your stuff in for auditions. Come on out and play with us. We've had a gnarly Ensemble read-through already, playwrights Beyer and Pynchon worked hard sharpening this fine piece, and we will have a terrific show. Like Bono says, can't stop the dance.

Starting Steps

The first show of Factory Theater's 2010 season will be Hey! Dancin'! by Kirk Pynchon and Mike Beyer. Upon first reading, this play felt like a hilariously twisted take on Disney's High School Musical if it was set in 1986. There's much more to it, as will be seen (and heard) this weekend. On Sunday, the play will get its first reading for the ensemble to chew on. I expect ideas to fly and my perspectives to change after the reading and discussions. These are the first steps in the process; I'm excited to hear the collective ensemble gears turn as we develop this show.

Two ensemble members will be doing something different for the Hey! Dancin'! production crew. The sparkling Sarah Rose Graber will be directing a Factory show for the first time, and I will be producing a Factory show for the first time. We are neither of us green in these capacities, but this is our first time doing these jobs in the Factory uniform. We are wonderfully supported by a sturdy ensemble. I am pleased to put on this particular hat for the company and I'm eager to see what devious plans Sarah Rose has in store.

In the meantime, keep a lookout for 1985 updates. I expect DJ Chas to share more goodies as the November 6 previews rapidly approach. Bear down!