Theatre Series

Stepping Behind the Scenes of "The 39 Steps"

Stepping Behind the Scenes of The 39 Steps
By Evan Ray


“How far is Winnipeg from Montreal?,” Hannay exclaims from his box in the audience. As Mr. Memory sorts through his extensive intracranial filing cabinet, I head toward the stage right clothing hooks. That was my cue to prepare Katie’s next costume change, the second of over twenty (it’s hard to count!) that will occur throughout the show. There are many instances like this one in the backstage orchestration of The 39 Steps, components of our own behind the scenes blocking that has formed both consciously and unconsciously in rehearsal and run. The play requests a high degree of organization from its stage crew and we make it our goal to bring that to the table (wings and booth?) in return. In a review of paper tech at the start of tech weekend, our stage manager, Kathy Stanley, produced a prompt book that likely contained more lighting, sound, and backstage cues than actual dialogue. My own script is full of graphs and charts reminding me how to position costumes for the most efficient quick-changes and notes about finally remembering not to leave the loops on that one dress over the hanger.


In spite of all our planning, an equivalent amount of creative problem-solving and quick thinking is necessary in a play notorious for rapid-fire action. If an actor is exiting the stage with a torn curtain—or a chair in three pieces, as the case may be—it is the backstage crew’s job to figure out what to do about it in that moment, especially if the prop will be needed later in the performance. For me, this synthesis of careful coordination and quick improvisation is one of the things that makes being backstage for The 39 Steps both an intense and intensely rewarding and enjoyable experience.


The clock reads 6:01 as I enter the mainstage door. I make brief stops at the sign-in sheet and green room and then start on the pre-show checklist. This consists of making sure the right props are onstage for the top of the show and the correct footlight is in place and “where did those biscuits go?” and the battery for the lamp is plugged in and “really, what happened to the shortbread?” and all of the money is in the right pockets and “seriously, who would have taken something from the prop table?!?.” Phew!


Compere jacket #2, British police cape, sideburns on a headband, three stuffed sheep—this is the eclectic inventory of items I pile onto my arm before heading to stage left to do final checks on the coat hooks and prop tables. “Fifteen to places.” We look over the stage one last time. Everyone makes sure the lamp works, independently of one another. No wonder the battery goes so fast. “Ten to places.” Water bottles are filled. “Five to places.” Are the safety lights on? “Actors in places and….


Here we go!” During the performance, it stays as busy backstage as it was before the show. My notes to myself, verbatim, often look something like the following: “Assist change to milkman SR (stage right), then hightail it to SL (stage left) with trench coat and bring compere jacket #1, dropping off clown hat along the way. Make sure sunglasses are in right pocket. Prepare coat with cape, take milkman costume quietly from Tristan, and assist Katie’s change to salesman SL. Then get to dressing room pronto for Bristol’s change to Pamela.” Yes, indeed, there’s certainly plenty to do and the pedometer in my phone doesn’t rest often.


Collaboration is key; this is especially evident in the middle of the show. A play itself is a giant feat of collaboration and the backstage crew is a smaller collaboration within the larger. Sometimes one action will involve many members of the crew, such as the shadow screen plane scene in Act I. Other things fall into a natural sequence; after a while you begin to notice patterns, walking past the same person in the hallway carrying the same things after that one scene.


Once the intermission checklist has been completed (tea is poured, chairs are placed, rope on the banner is properly set, etc.), it’s time for Act II. “Actors in places!”  We sometimes refer to Act I as “the busy act” (it is, after all, the act where I run from “flying” a plane to trigger the fog machine and then immediately open the mid-traveler), but there are still many things to be done in the second half. Sheep must be herded positioned, flannel nightshirts must be wrestled with, and then there is what seems to and may be a matter of seconds to strike and reset the stage for the final scenes.


Curtains close, lights go up—it’s time to pre-set for the next show. This means lots of sweeping (if you’ve come to see The 39 Steps already, you’ll probably know why), tracking down errant opera glasses, or trying to attain some semblance of order in that one chaotic stash of costumes that always accrues on stage left. The post-show checklist is as important as the pre-show one, as this is the time where that one pair of sunglasses can be located before it has had time to disappear into the woodwork, seemingly of its own accord, and make you spend fifteen minutes looking for it the next day. That’s right sunglasses, you know who you are. After double-checking everything for a third time, we head out.


Kazoos, kilts, and knives—where else can you find such diversity of prop and costume? This medley is representative of the play itself, with a storyline that winds through territories from spellbinding thriller to screwball comedy to romance to a puddle on the dark Scottish moors. And now, when you catch one of the last three opportunities to attend this show (available at or 360.221.8268!) and see all of the incredible onstage feats of acting, you can imagine the glorious frenzy occurring behind the scenes as well.

PS: *Can you find the Alfred Hitchcock references hidden in this essay?


Emancipating Gender in Theatre - by Katie Woodzick

Re-posted with permission from woodzickwrites~ Theatre, Feminism & Poetry.

This was going to be an essay about trains.

When I was ten years old, I saw the Robert Preston and Shirley Jones version of The Music Man for the first time. I was enthralled. I would march around the backyard with a tree branch conducing 76 trombones. I would bellow “W-w-w-w-ell, you got Trouble my friends!”

This was well before my household had a personal computer or the internet, so I couldn’t look up the lyrics of songs. I wanted to memorize all of the different parts to Rock Island, which is spoken word piece that opens The Music Man. Several salesman are sitting on a train and talking about their products and the scourge Harold Hill who is giving all other salesman a bad name by swindling towns out of money. The lyrics, performed percussively, mimic the sounds of a train leaving the station, picking up speed and slowing down at the next stop.

I used the interlibrary loan system to the libretto from another branch. Once it arrived, I set up chairs in my living room, switching seats as I learned all of the different parts. I was a quick study, and learned the entire number by the end of the week.

I shared this story at a rehearsal for The 39 Steps earlier this week. The 39 Steps isn’t a musical—it’s a play based on the Hitchcock film. It’s written for four characters: the handsome leading man, his three love interests (all played by the same woman) and two clowns, who play over 100 roles, ranging from policemen, to spies to underwear salesman on a train. The two clowns are traditionally played by two men.

(I’m going to warn you right now, this essay it not going to be told in linear fashion. We are going to jump back and forward multiple times, and that’s ok. If I were telling you this story in person, there would likely be moments of me saying “Well, wait, we have to go back ten years…but then remember the thing I said five minutes ago? Let’s go back there, now!” I thank you in advance for your patience.)

The reason that this essay was going to be about trains is that while we were blocking the train scene, it reminded me of memorizing Rock Island when I was a kid. One of the other actors looked at me and said, “Now, that’s a blog post.” And I added it to my to-do list without much thought.

It’s New Year’s day as I write this and I’ve spent the last couple of hours thinking that this needs to be more than a piece about trains and salesman. It needs to be about how my relationship to performing gender both onstage and off has changed. So here we go.

As I said before, the roles of the two clowns in The 39 Steps are usually played by two men. I want to unpack why this wasn’t the case for this show, why that’s a good thing and express my sincere hope that modern theatre starts/continues considering/putting into practice gender neutral/gender queer casting on a wider scale.

I’m going to use my personal journey with gender expression and performance as a (mostly) linear through line to demonstrate how many twists and turns I’ve experienced. And by doing that, we’ll eventually get to why I was cast as a man in The 39 Steps. (I promise!)

Back to ten year old me. I displayed the attributes of a tomboy (for lack of a better word), using the definition of tomboy as “a girl who enjoys rough, noisy activities traditionally associated with boys.” My best friend and I played with sticks as swords and chased each other around the backyard. We played Power Rangers, astronauts and aliens and when we learned and sang song from Disney movies, we stayed away from the princess songs and opted for the funny sidekick’s songs or the villain’s songs.

I am reminded here of a line from Sarah Galvin’s fantastic essay, My Whole Life I’ve Been Asked If I’m a Girl or a Boy: “I became Captain Hook as a child because Captain Hook was powerful—he could do things I had no evidence little girls could.”

I remember my mother preparing me for a video audition for a summer repertory theatre and saying I should audition for both Mary in The Secret Garden and Winthrop in The Music Man. The suggestion confused me: I was a girl, but I could pretend to be a boy?

At another audition, I insisted on singing Mister Mistoffelees from Cats. The folks sitting behind the audition table looked perplexed.

I began to look at the musical theatre cannon with a beautiful lens where I could go far any part I wanted to, regardless of gender. I watched Little Shop of Horrors and decided to memorize the Dentist’s song.

And then the big 12 came around. The summer I turned twelve, I went through puberty. I shot up several inches and it changed the way I felt in my body and how directors saw my body and how it fit into their vision of casting. That summer, I wanted to be the villain in the musical of Aladdin, but I got cast as the villain’s sister.

Spring of 1998. Sleeping Beauty. This was when the shit really hit the fan.

For the first time, I was cast as a romantic lead. I played the serving woman of the princess, who in this particular fairy tale version ends up with the prince. It was uncomfortable. I was having a hard time adjusting to my newfound height and breasts and periods…I felt lost. I looked to the older high school girls and their actions to see if I could mimic them for survival.

One of the things I saw the older girls doing was kissing each other on each cheek to greet one another. So, I kissed one of my friends on her cheeks when she came to see the show. Another girl witnessed this and spread a rumor throughout our middle school that I was gay.

I grew up in the Midwest, and I’ll have to admit that at 12 years old, I didn’t have a good grasp of what “gay” meant. What I knew was that I was getting verbally and physically assaulted at school because kids thought I was gay. I don’t remember telling my mom and I don’t remember telling any teachers. I felt that I had done something wrong and now no one liked me. My middle school logic dictated that:

gay = finding girls attractive = getting bullied


not gay = finding boys attractive = being left alone

I didn’t stop to ask myself if I actually did find girls attractive. I just wanted to feel safe at school.

Since my family didn’t have a lot of money, I wasn’t able to make a huge overhaul of my wardrobe. But I found myself making choices to perform my femininity as much as possible, having dramatic infatuations with boys that I made sure I told everyone about except the boy. These crushes never worked out. They weren’t meant to. I just wanted to display/show/perform/prove that I didn’t like girls, so-can-the-bullying-stop-now-please?

In high school, I did show choir and participated in the big annual musical. I played Mrs. Paroo in The Music Man, Ruth in Pirates of Penzance and Fantine in Les Miserables. In the summers, I participated in programing with The Young Shakespeare Players. YSP produced un-cut versions of Shakespeare’s works with ages 8-18. I got to play the Earl of Northumberland in Richard II, Duke Vincentio in Measure for Measure and Iago in Othello. The kids who participated in YSP were not from my high school. They came from more liberal areas of Madison and its suburbs and many were homeschooled. Performing male roles felt safe there. And many other young women were doing it as well.

College gave me the space to think and learn and start becoming more of an individual. I took a class on God and Gender and my world cracked open. I became fascinated with Judith Butler and Gender Performance theory. A central concept of the theory is that gender is constructed through one’s own repetitive performance of gender.

“…if gender is instituted through acts which are internally discontinuous, then the appearance of substance (last 3 words italicized) is precisely that, a constructed identity, a performative accomplishment which he mundane social audience, including the actors themselves, come to believe and to perform in the mode of belief. If the ground of gender identity is the stylized repetition of acts through time, and not a seemingly seamless identity, then the possibilities of gender transformation are to be found in the arbitrary relation between such acts, in the possibility of a different sort of repeating, in the breaking or subversive repetition of that style.” (Performative Acts and Gender Constitution An Essay in Phenomenology and Feminist Theory by Judith Butler.)

Learning about this theory didn’t necessarily change anything immediately about the way in which I performed my gender, but I felt an overwhelming sense of relief. There was freedom in discovering there was an aspect of choice when it came to gender.

For my senior project, I directed Christopher Durang’s Beyond Therapy. The title of the project was “Beyond Therapy: Beyond Social Constructions of Gender and Sexuality.” In the end, I was extremely proud of production and the conversations we had about gender theory in the rehearsal room (although I may have not been the most qualified person to lead those discussions.)

I moved to Whidbey Island the summer after I graduated college. I had just turned 22 and packed my life in my Toyota Camry, driving from Minnesota to Whidbey in two days. I became involved with the vibrant theatre community, and that’s where I met Deana Duncan.

Deana is the Programming and Production Director at Whidbey Island Center for the Arts. When I auditioned for Sweeney Todd in 2008, I had my eyes set on the role of Mrs. Lovett. As I came into the callback, she asked me “Would you be willing to audition for Pirelli?”

As actors, we’re trained to say yes whenever possible to directors. So I said yes to her without thinking. And I got the part.

If you’re not familiar with the musical, Pirelli is an Italian barber who Sweeney challenges to a shaving duel. It’s a male role. I cut my hair shorter, bound my chest with Ace Wrap and used makeup to make my features read as more masculine. It’s higher tenor role, so I was able to sing most of the score as written, only transposing the lowest of notes. I had a pair of bright orange pants custom-made by the costumer. The experience was incredibly freeing as a performer. I got to simultaneously disappear and yet feel more like myself than I ever had before onstage.

Before season auditions in August, Deana and I were sitting at our good friend Matthew’s wedding talking about The Addams Family. I really wanted the role of Wednesday, which was written as 18-30 in the script. I felt confident that I could sing and act the role as strongly as anyone who came to audition, but acknowledged that the director might want to go with a more petite Wednesday (more about my experiences being a plus-sized actress here). I also expressed interest in playing Gomez, saying, “I mean, Pirelli…Gomez…they’re kind of the same guy.” We both laughed.

I went on to say that I wanted to list on the audition form that I was interested in/had experience playing male roles, but didn’t know how that would sit with a director who didn’t know me. And Deana’s eyes lit up. “You know, the two clowns in The 39 Steps, they’re traditionally played by men, but they wouldn’t have to be.”

I smiled and nodded politely. When I got a callback for the clowns in The 39 Steps, I was surprised by how much fun I had in the callback, rapidly shifting between different male characters. And by the end of the callback, I really wanted to be one of the clowns. I wanted to be one of the clowns more than I wanted to be Wednesday in The Addams Family. By the time I got home, there was already a voicemail from Deana offering me the role.

Deana recently visited the Off-Broadway run of The 39 Steps and took a backstage tour. When she told the producer that she had cast a woman in one of the clown roles, he raised an eyebrow.

“Are you sure you can do that?” He asked.

She replied that she checked with the licensing company that held the rights for the show and they had given her the go-ahead.

“I went with talent,” she explained.

I went with talent. I love those words. What wonderful words.

This is why I applaud this particular casting decision. Yes, it means I get to be a part of an amazing production. But what it also means is that she looked outside of what tradition casting was for this show—she expanded her vision of what the play was and chose actors who best served that vision, instead of locking herself into the way casting had traditionally been done for this show.

I’m delighted to be seeing more decisions like this one. The hit musical Hamilton tells the story of America’s Founding Fathers with a show-stopping group of multiracial actors. Creator and star Lin-Manuel Miranda was quoted recently as being open to having women play the leading roles:

“I’m totally open to women playing founding fathers once this goes into the world. I can’t wait to see kick-ass women Jeffersons and kickass women Hamiltons once this gets to schools.”

Gender blind casting is sometimes a necessity in education settings—they’re simply aren’t enough men or boys to play the male roles, so girls get cast in those roles. How fantastic if what was once a necessity became more of a casting convention.

This past summer, I saw an all-female cast of 1776 on the Seattle Musical Theatre stage. 1776 is one of my favorite musicals, but it’s a show that only has two roles for women. I was deeply moved by this production, because the story didn’t lose anything for making the choice of having an all-female cast. The highly-committed performances of all the actors elevated the musical to new a new artistic level for me.

At most auditions I’ve been to post-college, there have been at least twice as many (if not three times) female actresses auditioning than male actors. In the script itself, the ratio is often reversed: two male speaking roles for every one speaking role for women. In a 2012 study conducted by The Guardian, Charlotte Higgins found that “…there is a stubborn 2:1 male-to-female problem in English theatre, which runs from boards of directors through to actors.”

Groups like The Kilroys are making great strides to increase awareness of female and trans* playwrights and challenge theatres to create gender parity in the plays they choose for their seasons. But what if theatres started to make decisions like “Regardless of the season we pick, we commit to hiring the same amount of male and female actors.”

I want to see more female Hamlets. An all-female cast of The Importance of Being Earnest. If we continue to produce theatre by dead white men, I want to see more and more gender blind casting and what that casting does to the story. Does it uncover other themes? Does it challenge what the original author meant? Does it inspire audiences to see gender in a completely different way?

In my recent interview with theatre artist Ada Karamanyan, we discussed what it means for casting directors to have gender neutral or gender queer actors come into the audition room.

Ada responded: “To me, that’s just like putty in your hand from a casting perspective, if you have somebody come in and there’s a…not to put it in a box, but let’s say androgyny to it or a lack of a construct of ‘this is a very feminine person’ or ‘this a is a very masculine person’ but you have a could really do anything with it.”

I am heartened by local companies like Copious Love Productions who have added the following language to audition notices: “Copious Love STRONGLY encourages all ethnicities, actors of color, ages and gender identities to audition for any role that interests you!”

As a bisexual, genderqueer performer, I see audition notices like this and it makes my heart sing. I’m thirty years old, and I feel more like myself than I ever before. I am more comfortable in my own skin.

I saw my first Drag King show last weekend. It was fantastic and I can’t wait to get up on that same stage and perform. I want to start working my way through my new musical theatre bucket list as a performer. It includes Sweeney Todd, the Street Singer from ThreePenny Opera, Harold Hill, Pippin, Judas from Jesus Christ Superstar, the Dentist from Little Shop, and The American in Chess to name a few.

I woke up this morning to see that one of my favorite writers, Ijeoma Oluo, had posted this on Facebook: “Let’s emancipate gender this year.”

Reading her words lit the fire under my ass to write this essay. So let’s do it. Let’s emancipate gender in theatre.

From the Newbie’s Knothole…..The Director

Director Phil Jordan

Director Phil Jordan

New to acting and the inner life of the theatre, I am fascinated by all of it.  As a lifelong student of leadership and a practicing executive coach I’ve been riveted on Phil Jordan, the director.   I entered this production wanting to discover if directing people in a play was different from in corporate settings.   I’m delighted to report that best practices are, well, best practices in both domains.  And I’ve discovered a delightful difference.

I asked Phil today what he liked most about being a Director.  He said, ‘rehearsals,’ because he likes the interaction with the actors.  It’s clear even to this newbie that he loves the challenge of shepherding creative people.  What I see is him allowing the actors to find their characters and develop them (within his vision) without intrusion. So, I asked him what he does when it isn’t working.  

 “Actors are very good at reading the director,” he tells me.  “They pick up the director’s vibe very quickly, so I don’t make it about living up to my vision. I ask myself how I can help them make it better. So, before I ask something of them, I ask myself, “what’s the next best thing to say that will best help them go deeper into themselves for their character.”

Perhaps its because the theatre’s lifeblood is creativity that he found this approach, for I cannot recall a corporate executive ever framing his primary role as one of growing his people’s reliance on their own wisdom and creativity.  Imagine, the energy that could be released and sustained if our institutional leaders were so inclined.

From my vantage point, I see its effect in rehearsals.  People are giving 150% every night.  Every run through runs deeper and better.  The cast is close and supportive.  We solve problems together; asking each other how can I help.   Laughter rings out easily and often.   Every layer added makes it better and more exciting.  People are popping ideas and Phil is listening.

This director realizes that the path to a truly brilliant production lies in supporting his people to depend on their own creativity.  And, even this thespian newbie can already see…

Dead Man’s Cell Phone is going to be truly brilliant !

-Peggy Gilmer

Other Desert Cities

WICA opens ‘Other Desert Cities’ on Friday, Feb. 13

Set in Palm Springs, Brooke Wyeth is the troubled daughter of a prominent California family, who comes home for the holidays after a six-year absence. She presents her family with her about-to-be-published memoir exposing a pivotal and tragic event in the family's history ─ a wound they don't want reopened. In effect, she draws a line in the sand and dares them all to cross it.

American playwright Jon Robin Baitz said he’d rather drink hemlock than harangue an audience with liberal pieties.

A finalist for the 2012 Pulitzer Prize for Drama, Baitz’s Other Desert Cities involves a family with differing political views and a long-held family secret. But, Baitz said his play is more about humility than politics.

Andy Grenier directs (and acts in) the Whidbey Island Center for the Arts’ production, which opens Feb. 13 and runs through Feb. 28. “Jon Robin Baitz was a student of mine years ago in New York so I am delighted with the success of his play. It’s a well-crafted play with wonderfully developed characters. Each of the characters is strong enough to be the lead in a story of their own, this one happens to be about Brook,” said Grenier.

Deana Duncan plays Brooke, and said the cast talked a lot about the code of ethics demanded of a writer. “This play for me is about the cost of telling the truth and then realizing I (Brooke) didn't know the truth,” Duncan said. “It’s about the courage and strength it takes to finally stop trying to please everyone and finally just say what needs to be said.”

Brooke’s mother, Polly Wyeth, is not having it. Polly considers the book’s publication to be a betrayal of her friends-with-the-Reagans family “that has so valued discretion and our good name.”

Meanwhile, Polly's sister Silda is also visiting, after having spent some time in rehab. Polly and her former American Ambassador husband Lyman are Republicans, while Silda is a liberal. Privately, Silda tells Brooke to stand by her book.

“Don’t back down. You’ll win because you have ideas, and they only have fear,” Silda tells her.

Baitz said he wrote the play to explore what happens when a writer uses one’s life to create something. He says Brooke gets a lot of it wrong and has to deal with that; that she may not know everything she thought she knew about her parents and family. The play, he said, is about what we think we know about everybody and “the absolute un-knowableness of things.”

Whatever it is, this play contains all the makings of an engaging evening: high drama, comic relief, and great repartee written by one of America’s best, living playwrights.

The play shows at 7:30 p.m. Fridays and Saturdays; and at 2 p.m. Sundays; Feb.13 through Feb. 28. Tickets are $22 for adults; $18 for seniors; $15 for youths; $15 for everyone at any matinee.

The cast includes Deana Duncan (Brooke), Andy Grenier (director, Lyman Wyeth), Shelley Hartle (Polly Wyeth), Heather Oglivy (aunt Silda), and David Mayer (brother Trip). Lucy Pearce is associate director, Steve Ford is the stage manager, Patty Mathieu designs the lights, costumes are by Mira Steinbrecher, Tyler Raymond is the technical director and Chandra Sadro and Jim Scullin will design the set.

Click Here for Online Purchases.
Online tickets are available until noon the day of the show.
For tickets by phone, call the Box Office at 800.638.7631 or 360.221.8268.
You can also buy tickets in person at the Box Office at 565 Camano Ave in Langley between 1 and 6 p.m. Wednesday through Saturday, or two hours before any show.

A Tool for Set Design

A Tool for Set Design

Set Designer, Bonnie Stinson, shares one of the ways she looks for inspiration in designing her sets.

Meet the Cast

Production of 'A Christmas Story' is in full swing

There is plenty going on behind the scenes… rehearsals, costumes, sets… and all of the 101 details that make the magic happen.

Waylan Parsell with the   FRAGILE   leg lamp!

Waylan Parsell with the FRAGILE leg lamp!


These are the talented actors who will bring A Christmas Story to life, right here at WICA.

Phil Jordan – Ralph

Rob Prosch –  The Old Man

Kristin Carlson   Mother

Patricia Duff  Miss Shields/Voice of Schwartz Mom

Hillel Coates (age 11)  Ralphie

Waylan Parsell (age 9)  Randy

Soren Bratrude (age 11)   Flick

Leo Smith (age 10)  Schwartz

Joe Davies (age 14)  Scut Farkus

Ada Rose Faith-Feyma (age 10)  Helen

Jordan Schierbeek (age 11)  Esther Jane

Tess Patty Caldwell (age 10)  Ensemble-Bumpus hound

Phoenix Lester (age 10)  Ensemble-Bumpus hound

Jim Castaneda  Santa, Lead Crew

Christine Chittem  Elf, Crew

Meghan Parker  Elf, Crew

A Christmas Story

You’ll shoot your eye out! ─ ‘A Christmas Story’ returns to WICA in Langley

by Patricia Duff

One boy, one holiday wish, and a world that seems to be conspiring to make certain it doesn’t come true.

Bring the whole family to the hilarious American classic, “A Christmas Story,” which opens at Whidbey Island Center for the Arts in Langley on Friday, Dec. 5 and includes live audience participation!

You may recognize author and radio raconteur Jean Shepherd's memoir of growing up in the Midwest in the 1940s from the movie that became an instant hit upon its release in 1983. The play, adapted by Philip Grecian, also follows 9-year-old Ralphie Parker in his quest to get a genuine Red Ryder BB gun under the tree for Christmas. Ralphie pleads his case to his mother, his teacher and even Santa Claus at Higbee's Department Store. "You'll shoot your eye out!" is the only response Ralphie gets and it begins to wear thin.

Directed by Deana Duncan, WICA is thrilled to bring back this beloved holiday production after 10 years. Duncan remembers her now grown sons playing Randy and Flick back in 2004.

“I loved watching them on stage,” she said. (They laughed about one particularly wild moment when Nicholas as “Randy” got a little overly exuberant with the piggy-eating oatmeal scene.) “I'm looking forward to sitting there on closing night with my two boys, remembering when they were small and walked this stage in these roles.”

It’s appropriate that Duncan reminisces about that previous production of “A Christmas Story.” It was part of her sons’ childhoods, the part of life we can’t wait to grow out of, yet pine for when we do.  

“Jean Shepherd once said, ‘I write about American rituals. Things you’ll find nowhere else in the world.’ He was talking a lot about the way we celebrate and how he remembers his childhood. To him ‘A Christmas Story’ became ‘a reminder of humanity through comedy,’” Duncan said.

“A Christmas Story” represents what Americans remember of our childhoods; what traditions stay with us when we think about the holidays, our family and the place where we grew up. Phil Jordan, who plays the grown-up Ralph (the narrator), grew up in the Midwest, not far from Indiana where the play is set.

“I grew up in the Midwest. My dad was an avid amateur photographer, so I have a voluminous pictorial record of each and every Christmas that extends back before I was born into the mid-1940s.  I have my dad’s entire collection of thousands of slides and his 50-year old slide projector,” Jordan said. 

“The impulse to look back and re-experience the times we were happy is a soothing activity and I think that is why human beings do it,” he added.

Jordan said that, when the play opens, Ralph is reflecting on what he remembers of that one Christmas in the middle of winter in mythical Hohman, Indiana.

“Christmas was a time for snow and hot chocolate and brilliantly white, sunny, blue days of 15 degree weather,” Jordan said. But also bitter-cold winds, the snowball fights and the daily-challenge of living with a harsh winter are all a part of Jordan’s vivid memories of Christmas in the Midwest, which seem to blend in easily with Ralph’s.

“It is a testament to Ralph’s resilience that he knows how to deal with moments of sorrow, by remembering the moments in his life where optimism and youthful invulnerability prevailed over the everyday catastrophes that assail children on a regular basis: the bullies, the disappointments, the exploded myths, the adults in their world failing to understand them.”

Duncan said that nostalgia plays a huge part in this production, which she hopes to evoke with both its whimsical and sentimental sides.

“The play is a snapshot of a time. We, the audience, will sort through the memories with Ralph and hopefully walk out remembering favorite Christmas moments and looking forward to the holiday just around the corner.”

Just don’t shoot your eye out.

Speaking of “just around the corner,” in the lobby before and after the show there will be plenty of holiday fun and games for the whole family circa 1940s Indiana, including Ralphie’s Shooting Gallery, “A Christmas Story” trivia game, and the Triple Dog Dare Hangman Bar with libations for all ages!

The cast of “A Christmas Story” also includes Soren Bratrude, Tess Patty Caldwell, Kristin Carlson, Jim Castaneda, Hillel Coates, Joe Davies, Patricia Duff, Ada Rose Faith-Feyma, Justus Lester, Phoenix Lester, Meghan Parker, Rob Prosch, Jordan Schierbeek, Leo Smith and Bonnie Stinson. Valerie Johnson is the costume designer and Bonnie Stinson designed the sets.

The show plays at 7:30 p.m. Friday and Saturdays; and at 2 p.m. Sundays from Friday, Dec. 5 through Saturday, Dec. 20.

Tickets are $22 for adults; $18 for seniors; $15 for youths; $15 for matinees.

Click Here for Online Purchases. Online tickets are available until noon the day of the show. For tickets by phone, call the Box Office at 800.638.7631 or 360.221.8268. You can also buy tickets in person at the Box Office at 565 Camano Ave in Langley between 1 and 6 p.m. Wednesday through Saturday, or two hours before any show. Season tickets for the Theatre Series are available at a discount through the Box Office.

Whidbey Island journalist Patricia Duff began Patricia Duff Writing Services in 2013. Patricia was the Island Life Editor and arts and entertainment reporter for the South Whidbey Record for six years, followed by almost two years as the start-up editor for the online arts publication, Whidbey Life Magazine.  She has been writing about the island community and its artists for about 9 years. Patricia Duff Writing Services creates effective copy for anyone who needs it, including profiles, features, ads, brochures, press releases and web content.

My Tell-Tale Heart

My Tell-Tale Heart

by Lucy Pearce

As I sit down to write this, I think back on the people I have channeled in plays and how if there wasn’t an instant correlation between me and them, there soon became one. So as I prepare for the dramatic reading of The Tell-Tale Heart and Annabel Lee by Edgar Allan Poe for Masters of The Pen at WICA on October 30th I begin to think on this some more. Anyone who knows Tell-Tale Heart will be thinking, “I hope she doesn't have too much in common with that.” For those who don't know it, I wont spoil it for you.

I find myself drawn though to Edgar himself. My eyes pulled like lasers to him enlisting in the army under an assumed name and publishing a collection of poems anonymously. I myself have spent the past three years, in many ways, anonymous. After almost twenty years as an actress I was burnt out, depressed, insecure and then pulled down a seemingly different path. I was convinced that was it for me, I was done with acting. It was a very painful decision but it also felt right. The next three years I followed a new route, often as lost as a GPS on an English country road (as an English person I have compassion for the GPS). My days once filled with learning lines (which to me is really just discovering how they feel) now became full of music. If I wasn't sound-healing for people, I was busy writing music. It was a time of rediscovering a part of me that had been somewhat dormant. I remembered the poet in me, the musician in me and mostly kept it all to myself (my husband and dog had no choice but to hear it). After much self-healing work and moving to South Whidbey Island, a place as chock-full of creative folks as a jar of PNW pickles, I began to feel the pull to share my poetry and music with people. Anyone who knows this beautiful island knows that it is an incredibly supportive space, rooting for each individuals self-expression a daily pastime, with a shot of espresso for fuel of course.

Lucy Pearce and Ensemble in Into the Woods, photo by j shu images

Then this year my heart suddenly decided to partake in the WICA general auditions. I say my heart decided as my mind was busy saying, “erm, yo, you said you’d given up acting” (yes my mind is an Eminem wannabe). So I followed my heart….yep I’m rolling my eyes at that overused term myself, but hey, ho, thats how it was. Just like that I find myself in the role of the Steward in Into The Woods and now here I am readying for this evening with Edgar (eek, what would an evening with Edgar really be like?).

Lucy Pearce as The Steward with Hannah McConnaughey as Lucinda and Ethan Berkley as Cinderella's Prince in Into the Woods, October 2014 - photo by j shu images

I guess my heart knew me much better than my mind did because I am over the moon to be back acting, I have come back into it with many of the same insecurities and impostor syndrome fears as before but these past few years have prepared me to be able to face these insecurities, to slowly peel away the layers of that burning onion. Whereas before I was consumed by them I now feel in a place to take a cold hard look at it all and work with them to replace them with a more empowered space. I am so happy that my journey back into channeling these people of the plays has begun at WICA, I have never felt more supported, respected and embraced than I have here. Working with Gwen Jones (director of Masters of the Pen) is quite honestly a dream. Her first words, “I have only expectations of greatness”. That wording so profoundly different to saying I expect greatness. As many actors do, I thrive in a more collaborative environment with directors and Gwen’s middle name is collaboration (no, not literally). The endlessly generous actor Ethan Berkley will be reading on the night also.

Masters of the Pen: An Evening with Edgar Allan Poe directed by Gwen Jones
Thursday, October 30 @ 7:30
Michael Nutt Mainstage, WICA
Tickets: $10

I have been asked what the difference is between a dramatic reading and a regular acting role? The Merriam-Webster description is this: a public reading or recitation of a work of literature (as a poem or play) with an interpretative or dramatic use of the voice and often of gestures. For me though, the only difference is I have the material in front of me in case I am not sure what comes next. Otherwise it’s the same, I am channeling a person that the writer channeled. Our interpretations may be different but our goals may well be the same, to be truthful, to share deeply, to connect profoundly and to forge through the flames of fear.

I hope that Poe is there on the night (if anyone is going to be a ghost, it’s gonna be him), I hope he enjoys it and mostly I hope he enjoys our dance. Our tango together out of anonymity into sharing our authentic divine lights with the world, offering up our Tell-Tale Hearts.  

Lucy Pearce is an Actress, Singer/Songwriter and Poet who lives on Whidbey Island with her husband Sean and pup Billy. When not working creatively she enjoys growing food, walks in the woods and watching way too much TV and film.