Leigha Horton :: Green room
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I got up at 6:30 am last Sunday. For anyone who knows me, this is medal-worthy in and of itself. I got in the car and I drove it at 7:50 am.  Miraculously without incident, I was on location by 8:15. I was acting for the camera by 8:45 am; reciting lines that had been mostly memorized, improvising on command, even.  The issue with all of these things is two little letters - a and m, put together.  Yeesh.  Perhaps a modest 2,000 lb commemorative statue erected downtown is a more proper reward-to-accomplishment ratio.

All this early morning insanity was for my role as Nerve 123080 in The System, Cristina Cordova and Juan Antonio del Rosario’s latest adventure – a feature-length independent film “in which a red blood cell and a neurotransmitter set out to save the world.”  It is, of course, about many other things – the effect of cocaine on the body, class warfare, socialism v. capitalism…I could go on, but I won’t, because you just need to see it and I can assure you it will be good.  Juan Antonio and Cristina, as you’ll recall, were my directors for Chasing Windmills, the web series in which they also played Q and D, respectively.  I adore them, and I adore working with them – so an 11-hour good-time was had by all.  Yep, 11 hours for me that day.  11 hours that led to the introduction of some seriously first class actors and some actors who are seriously first class people.

One of the highlights of my afternoon involved fellow actor Sean Erik Hoffman (in the role of Sacco) making up a hilarious 1980s-style sitcom-opening-credits-song about Trotsky (played by Gary Keast who had just finished rocking the hell out of his Big Speech) – Sean did a little dance and sang, “if you’ve got a pizza, he’ll share it with your friends! – TROTSKY!”  Picture a stoic Trotsky walking along a sidewalk, suddenly jumping into the air, clicking his heels together, arms spread wide – freeze frame.   We found it hilarious.  Perhaps you had to be there.  We were punchy.  Sacco also nicknamed me Nervil, which was just shy of completely adorable.

To wrap up the day, sweet Cristina gently touched a finger to my forehead and said, “don’t forget you have this on” – she was referring to the barcode that had been stamped and re-stamped there throughout the day.  Only the Nerves (there were three of us) were stamped…I guess I felt special, so I kept it on until I got home, when I tackled it with makeup remover.  And yet it remained.  Then I tried Aloe.  Didn’t work.  Soap.  No dice.  Baby oil.  Denied.  I posted about it on Facebook and got a speedy reply that led to toothpaste.  It stung a little.  And it worked.

Anyway, keep an eye out for this puppy’s release. It was a hell of a lot of fun to film (Juan Antonio and I tend to get a little giggly when we’re supposed to be working together), and I imagine it’ll be a hell of a lot of fun to watch. In the interim, you can follow the film’s progress via the blog and Twitter.

Friday morning I had my first costume fitting for Titanic – I love, LOVE when costumes are built specially for moi.  The shoes and the corset are pre-fab, but the shoes are crazy comfortable (SWEET) and the corset is hilariously pointy yet surprisingly comfortable.  The rest of the dress is fantastically utilitarian, yet still within the fashion-confines of the era.  I love the snug bodice and high-waisted skirt. I shall temporarily abstain from passing judgment on the sleeves.

Another mark in The Column of All Things Cool is that I was given the shoes to take home and start breaking in.  I’m sure we can all remember my, um, “issues” with costume shoes.  Seriously – a month in advance - how often does that happen?!  I wore them this morning while I did the dishes.  I love our costumer.

As for things I don’t love - I do not love how harrowing the research can be.  I was reading A Night to Remember in bed Sunday night and couldn’t keep from sobbing - one chapter in particular just pushed me right over the edge, and it was a two-handkerchief ordeal from that point forward.  Accidentally woke my mate.  I have heretofore resolved to banish any and all Titanic research from the reading-at-bedtime ritual.  Jane Austen prevails.

A few months back I joined the staff of the Science Museum of Minnesota in preparation for their upcoming Titanic exhibit, for which I and nine other actors will portray actual crew members of the famed, fated ship. We are split up amongst those who survived and those who drowned (and before you even get smart about it, no, there are no zombies - the ones who perished just don’t make it on to a separate part of the exhibit ; there will be no gnashing of teeth nor clamoring for brains).

While I find this whole process and the extensive research involved incredibly intriguing, I find it difficult to talk about this role in terms of a “character.”  Evelyn Marsden, whom I have chosen to study and portray, was a real woman with a real history and a real future and a real experience.  Yet at the same time artistic liberty is a necessity, as the information available about her is scant and the unexpected questions from visitors will be endless.  I think this lands squarely in the camp of Historical Fiction…a new venture for me.

We start rehearsals a week from today and I’ll admit I’m a little nervous.  I have a great understanding of the overall picture…it’s just that my retention of the details is not so hot at present.

That and my Australian accent needs some serious work; “CRIKEY!” will only get a girl so far.

I have turned down four gig offers since January due to schedule conflicts.
I have been turned down for one gig due to schedule conflicts.
I hate turn-downs, self-initiated or imposed, due to schedule conflicts.
I want it all.

On the other hand, since last writing here I participated in a two-performance run of Adam Symkowicz’ Captivity Plays, did eleven voice-overs for the Supervalu chain of grocery stores (Albertson’s, Cub, Jewel/Osco, Bigg’s, Shaw’s & Star Market, Hornbacher’s, etc., which should be playing all over the U.S. right now), recorded a tv demo for Nexxus hair care products, formalized my involvement in this year’s Fringe Festival, and started research for my role in the upcoming Titanic exhibition at the Science Museum of Minnesota.

And yet I still feel like it’s not enough; like I’m missing out on something. I’m ravenous. Insatiable.

Perchance this means it’s time to cut the excuses and dedicate myself to my craft; no more coasting.

Kids! Tune in next week to see how long this particular brand of inspiration lasts!

I have been neglectful. A month ago I should have written the equivalent of the Horton Happy Dance upon the introduction of whole, raw carrots to my diet (yeah, yeah, fine - whole until I chew them, smartypantses). Hell, I’m halfway tempted to add that regained ability to the “special skills” section of my resume (yes, actors have a “special skills” section on their resumes - one never knows when her years Irish step-dancing or the time she drove cattle for a week is going to land her a gig). I digress. Carrots and apples and popcorn and, and, and…caramel. Ohmygod, yes. These incredibly wonderful braces-mangling objets du désir.

I, Leigha Catherine Horton, being of dubious “sound mind,” officially endured 18 months of legalized self-initiated torture, and on March 3, 2009, with the determination that my treatment was complete, had my braces removed. I’m like a shiny new raw-vegetable-eating girl with fabulously straight teeth and a brand-new confident smile. Even now, a month later, I go from quiet delight to spazzy-thrilled and back again without notice. A far cry from the generally ill-disposed and/or bitterly pained swings that, um, “colored” the last 18 months. To put it lightly, that shit HURT. But, this process was way, way overdue and I am now stupidly happy.

And okay, so technically I’m not entirely done yet. I have three weeks remaining with the Invisalign on my upper teeth, but they’re damn near perfect now. And I couldn’t be more thrilled. I’d probably cry if I could somehow stop grinning like a silly idiot. It’s wonderful.

UPDATE 4/21/09 (because Meghan made a valid point in her comment):

Last month I did 20 commercials with Ty Pennington and I could just squeal.  There, I said it.  I’ve been trying to find a dainty or clever or daintily clever way of saying it, but nothing has come to mind and this news is verging on stale.  So there you have it – I just did 20 commercials.  With Ty Pennington.  For those of you who have effectively killed their televisions (mine is stuck on PBS and I love it), he’s the dude who hosts Extreme Makeover: Home Edition, yells into a bullhorn, and then makes viewers weep when they see how he’s improved the depraved lives of the family whose home is being remodeled that week.

And before anyone asks – no, I don’t know Ty now, nor does he know me.  We were in completely separate cities when we recorded, and never interacted with one another.  It follows then, much to the dismay of my 14-year-old sister, that I can’t tell you what he smells like.

We split out the recordings over two sessions, the first of which had me regrettably on the tail end of a nasty cold; I was, however fully redeemed in the second session by being smokin’ hot.  Or at least something that resembled healthy non-suckage.  The fellas talked football, I met them with blank stares.  They laughed.  Good times were had by all.

Anyway, 10 commercials for TV, 10 for radio, all location-specific, advertising Marketplace Events home shows with various HGTV star appearances and special attractions.  The TV spots will be shown on HGTV, not sure about the market for the radio spots.  Anyway, I am your friendly announcer for spots in New York, the Washington, D.C. area, Philadelphia, greater New England, Minneapolis, Denver, Oklahoma City, Indianapolis, and Des Moines, among others.  You hear me, you hear Ty.  That’s it.

Samples or links or some kind of proof coming in the near future.

I began the following post just over a month ago and am just now, finally, post-show, post-holidays, getting around to editing and publishing it (everything needed to be shifted to the past-tense).  I believe this delay signifies what will be a change of approach for 2009 and beyond - less frantic, more experiential, more thoughtful.  It’s not a New Year’s resolution by any means - I actually resolved many, many years ago to never again make a New Year’s resolution, and I’ve been true to my word on that - it’s more of an overall mindful ease.  Or perhaps its just lack of natural, sun-derived Vitamin D.  Whatever, we shall see.

Said post, without further ado:

I’ve spent the majority of my waking and non-waking hours since mid-November in a sweet and sleepy little Wisconsin town called St. Croix Falls.  Nestled on the St. Croix River, the town boasts an adorable five-block main street with shops and cafes and restaurants and the St. Croix Festival Theater, my performance venue for the stage version of Jean Shepherd’s A Christmas Story.  Good ol’ A Christmas Story - you know the one: a boy’s campaign for a Red Ryder BB Gun, “you’ll shoot your eye out,” yellow-eyed Scut Farkas, the pink bunny suit, “show me how the piggies eat,” played for 24 hours straight before Christmas on TNT and TBS - yeah, that one.  I was cast as Ralphie’s mother.

Save for one exception in my performance history I had become accustomed to a 4+ week rehearsal process…this show, however, this show we had two weeks.  Minus Thanksgiving.  So basically 13 days. For a two-and-a-half hour show.  We were given the scripts well in advance so we could arrive at the first rehearsal fully memorized.  We then were given two weeks, with only Thanksgiving day off, to block, rehearse, polish, and be ready for opening, with two separate casts of children.  Two weeks of mostly 10-hour days.  Two weeks of learning the names of 14 adorable children as quickly as possible.  Two weeks of panic about opening night.  This was, without question, one of the most demanding processes I’ve experienced thus far, and yet I’m now, in hindsight, thrilled to have had it.

In all honesty, once the show had been up and running publicly for a week we were finally ready to open.  It might, might, have been possible if we adults (four in the cast) had only one cast of kids to work with and guide.  But we didn’t.  We had two casts.  Ranging in age from six to thirteen.  Two casts that couldn’t have been more different from each other.  And while that was twice the rehearsal time for us, it was half the rehearsal time for them.  Despite the panic and the drama, they came through shining.  One cast I am particularly proud of - they struck me as the underdogs to start, but they proved to be my little tortoises - slow and steady definitely won that race.

So back to me.  Me, me, me.  I was skeptical going in whether or not I could pull off a convincing mom to kids that age - if one is childless, which I am, it’s easy to romanticize motherhood on stage, ultimately coming off trite and silly.  Our director gave me a lot of room to play and discover before helping me refine the role, and I truly believe that we created a kind, strong, tired, loving, annoyed, diplomatic, amused, real mother.  A mother who actually lived in that three-sided house and was the queen of her domain.

Ultimately, our 25 performances were met with joy and appreciation (although the matinees with younger school children were a little more of a challenge - we may as well have been Charlie Brown’s parents in the adult scenes - cue muted trumpet! waaa-waaa-WAAAA-waaa-wa-wa).  It turned out to be a beautiful experience - laughing myself silly with my castmates, hugs from the kids, burping contests with the 10-year-old boys, stomping around St. Croix Falls and many hours spent at The Indian Creek Winery and The Buzz, rooming with the delightful Amanda at my lovely host-home with gracious hosts, fighting the town’s inane snow-emergency rules, and dozens of hours spent in the car coming home.  A beautiful way to keep warm as winter settled in.