February 24, 2011
Billy Elliot: The Musical
A Second Chance at Stardom
Attending every WiCM event this year is no easy task. The challenge is slightly, maybe a little bit compounded by the fact that I do not yet reside in New York City. “Oh please, Hoboken counts,” you might chastise. Let me be clear: I currently live in Washington, DC. Despite my solid intentions to move to NYC in the very near future, I’m a tourist. And you know what tourists like? BROADWAY!
This week’s event was a discounted viewing of Billy Elliot: The Musical, followed by a discussion with its cast. And like any tourist taking a bus to the Big Apple, I was beyond excited. I clutched my fanny pack with anticipation as Times Square’s dazzling lights welcomed my arrival. A satisfying meal at Bubba Gump’s Shrimp Company and two free comedy shows later, I staggered wide-eyed toward the theater.
WiCM turned out for this one, and for good reason. The tickets were a steal, and the show lived up to the hype. Based on a movie you should have seen, the musical is the story of a young English boy who develops a love of dance; unfortunately his new passion doesn’t quite jibe with the culture of his blue collar, coal-mining town. On display as top-notch acting, singing, and dancing, the show’s talent level was dizzyingly high. And the amount of work that clearly went into putting the production together was obscene.
Prompted by young Billy’s arc, I spent the intermission recalling my own childhood. My mother once wanted me to be a ballerino (the male equivalent of ballerina, probably). “You’ve got such long lines,” she’d say. That’s true, mom. I did turn out to be tall and “liney.” What I did not turn out to be was interested. But the lights of Broadway and an excellent first act made me reconsider. After all, my grace was considerable…
Thanks to my WiCM all-access pass (i.e., basic membership), I would be able to address the show’s director during the post-show Q&A. This could mean my rebirth as a star. So I watched the second act with a student’s eye, carefully noting where my extra length and post-pubescent strength would give me an advantage over the other children.
The post-show discussion was the whipped cream on the pasty. We learned about the adaptation of the musical from its silver screen origins. We learned that the actors all worked with a dialect coach to keep the show sufficiently Newcastle. We also learned about the talent development of the various kid performers. The dancers are recruited, trained, and selected through a process called “Billy Camp.” There, boys between the ages of nine and twelve receive expert instruction in all the skills they’ll need to play Billy.
The Q&A was great, but nobody seemed to be noticing my lovely lines, so I raised an elegant hand and asked a question.
“Hi, so a lot of people consider me undiscovered talent? And I was wondering if all of the Billies go through Billy Camp?”
“Why yes. All three of our current Billies are alumni of the camp.”
“So, is the twelve-year-old age cutoff a strict rule, or is it more like a guideline, or…”
The Associate Director smiled and replied, “Ha, I’m guessing you’re a bit too old.” And then she winked. And everyone chuckled. Ha. Very funny. You should be a comedian. Keep laughing, WiCM. Know what? This is just the kind of thing that makes for a great Broadway story. Some poor nobody comes to the big city on a bus, with nothing but a naïve dream and incredible God-given extension. I’ll show you. I’LL SHOW ALL OF YOU!
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I’ve just been asked not to finish my blog entries with vengeful rants, so I’ll back up. If you missed this event, the good news is that you can still go check out the show. It’s great. And if you’re disappointed that you missed the Q&A, here’s my recap: apparently there’s some secret age limit that they use to keep people out, probably because they’re scared that a real-life diamond in the rough will threaten their precious Billy Camp.
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Sorry. Again, sorry. To conclude, this show was totally and completely entertaining. The post-show Q&A session was an added bonus, a rare peek up the magician’s sleeve. And it had no effect whatsoever on the dreams of a man who knows—just knows—he’s fit to play an eleven-year-old English boy on Broadway, no matter what some Associate Producer thinks. That’s right, WiCM. Don’t be surprised if my next blog entry comes from the dormitories of the Bolshoi…where I’m studying the ballet.
To be continued…
Lucas
Children's Media Association 