Day 10

Today is day ten of the Minnesota Fringe Festival (aka The Eleven Days Each Year When my Family Would Think I'm Dead if They Didn't Know Any Better). Every year at this time I turn in to the unresponsive child, the bad friend, and the exhausted employee because I get so swept up in all things that constitute Fringe that I effectively tune out the rest of the world. Sometimes there's a fine line between naïve and vacuous - if it weren’t for the NY Times delivery on the weekends, Google News during the week, and the occasional run-in with Matt Foster, I would be in a sorry state of clueless-ness that would far surpass what is deemed socially acceptable. This is the first Fringe since 1999 that I haven't been on stage, and while it seriously bums me out, it has also been an exciting new experience being on the Fringe staff as the Voice of the Fringe (podcasting). It’s also pretty cool waiting in line to see a show and getting asked by strangers about my or MoCW’s next stage plans without having to pimp “OUR LAST PERFORMANCE TOMORROW AT 8:30!!” It just feels like a far more mellow experience, and I dig mellow. I’ve seen shows ranging from the mediocre to the hilarious to the weep-inducing-stunner, and have accomplished this all without wearing a watch. Not wearing a watch during Fringe is a big deal. Especially for me.

Despite my stage absence, the lovely Josh and Joe have come to the rescue and asked me to be a guest on The Scrimshaw Show tonight…I guess my VotF gig is still enough presence to merit a guest appearance – totally unexpected and quite flattering. It will be a little strange going on stage with them as myself instead of a character, so I’m a tad nervous...but they're good guys, and I'm a good sport, so I'm sure it will be fine.

I'll report back with the sordid details.

The Fringe is here! The Fringe is here!

Oh happy day! August is my absolute favorite time of year in Minnesota solely due to the 11 days of bohemian theatrical bliss known as the Minnesota Fringe Festival. Today is an especially sweet day because it not only marks the start of the 2005 Fringe Fest, it also is the day the St. Paul Pioneer Press (one of the two daily newspapers in our fair Twin Cities) came out with a Fringe preview that singles out and praises the Fringe Podcast. Insert Horton Happy Dance here.

Take a read:

St. Paul Pioneer Press Thursday, August 4, 2005

ATTACK OF THE POD PEOPLE

Can't fit in any Fringe shows? Get a taste for the festival via your portable music player.

Fringe organizers recently recorded two of their traditional sneak-preview presentations in audio-file format and released them on their Web site as downloadable podcasts — radiolike shows that can be loaded on an iPod or other digital device and heard anywhere.

Podcasts number in the thousands, and many are achingly dull, but the Fringe's podcasts are a cut above thanks in large part to their engaging host, actress Leigha Horton. Partly recorded before a live audience at two festival venues, they include performance excerpts along with artist interviews and newsy tidbits.

More podcasts are planned. One will be released just before the festival begins, said Leah Cooper, Fringe executive director and a podcast co-producer. A fourth during the festival will feature updates on how shows are selling along with "buzz and gossip," she said. A fifth podcast will be released shortly after the festival ends.

Find the podcasts at www.fringefestival.org/podcasts.cfm. If you use Apple Computer's iTunes software, search for "fringe" in the iTunes Music Store's podcast directory to find and subscribe to the Fringe feed.

In a related effort, Thirst Theater miniplays once presented at a Minneapolis rooftop bar are now offered as podcasts. One is free, others are $4 apiece (a tough sell since virtually all podcasts are free). See www.fringefestival.org/thirst.cfm

So, take a listen. And then check back, because I will be updating again in the very near future with other odes to Fringe.

I’m mellllllllting…

Oh man – it was HOT this weekend. Temps were in the mid-90’s and the humidity was, I kid you not, 89%. So basically the air consisted of 11% oxygen, and 89% water. Okay, I’ll admit that this is not exactly how humidity percentages are determined, but when it gets to the point that one sweats profusely while sitting and it’s difficult to breathe in and out – WHO CARES ABOUT MATH?! Humidity makes me cranky. For that matter, so does math. We filmed several scenes for The Monster of Phantom Lake this weekend, and it’s days like these that make me curse a poly/cotton blend. Wrinkle free? Yes. Breathable? Not so much.

FRIDAY Friday night started at about 9:30 – there were a few scenes to shoot before anything I was in, so I got on camera round 11/11:30 – humidified (frizzy) hair, melting makeup and all. Ahh, to be the engenue in a movie. Comedy. Pure comedy. A few hours outdoors in that weather, and they could easily recast me as The Monster.

My favorite parts of the evening in no particular order:

  • At some wee hour, I was officially dubbed the “fire fluffer” since my girl-scouting days qualified me to keep the campfire going. I honored my badges.
  • At about 1:30 am, we had an unsettling interaction with some local fauna. During the shoot, we stopped due to some crashing through the woods out of range of the floodlights. Whatever it was kept getting closer and closer, and we all started to get quite nervous – finally, the thing burst through the bushes straight for us. It was worse from my perspective, because I was standing behind the director and couldn’t see what it was (but was thoroughly convinced it was a psycho killer). The director let out a frightened yelp, and grabbed the camera and tripod like a spear – I just froze. It turned out to be a dog-sized raccoon that took a hard right as soon as it came within 15 feet of us. Laugh we did, but I can’t say that did much for our nerves the rest of the evening. There were many suspicious twig breaks over the next hour or so…
  • The director accidentally swallowed a bug. While I truly felt for him, I couldn’t stop laughing…that was just too funny. Although frankly, there were far, far more spiders about than I would ever like to truly consider. And I can’t say I really enjoyed the persistent divebombings into the ear by those ginormous moths.

Around 2:15 am, we all started getting a bit punchy and couldn’t get our lines out correctly to save our lives. We finally wrapped it all up, and I got home at 3:15 am. I’m pretty sure I’m getting too old for this.

SATURDAY Thankfully, I had Saturday off to recuperate.

SUNDAY Sunday’s call was a very early, very unappreciated 8 am. That meant getting up at 6 am to shower, get in costume, do makeup and hair, and drive the 45 minutes to the producer’s house (near the shooting location). It was raining, so upon arrival we had to wait an hour and a half for the storm to clear. An hour and a half of cherished weekend-sleep, wasted. *sigh*

The day turned out rather pleasant - we filmed in a beautiful bay that looked remarkably untouched (well done, location scouts!). We were shooting a scene where the professor and I are taking samples from the water, and running them through various pieces of ridiculous equipment. At one point, I got up from the blanket too fast and just barely spared myself from landing in the lake head-first. Grace and I aren’t the best of acquaintances… And yes, that lovely stork dance was captured on camera - I feel kind of proud making it into the “outtakes” section of the DVD special features! Ah, the sacrifices I make for comedy…

To finish out the day, I rewarded myself with a head-dunking in the lake. On purpose, thankyouverymuch.

Holy bobblehead, Batman!

The first day of shooting for The Monster of Phantom Lake was yesterday, and thank god for digital cameras – they let one see how awful one is right away, so one has time to fix it. Yesterday’s shoot is in the can, but fortunately the rest of the scenes I can still salvage. The source of my dread?: the director did an overnight rough-edit of yesterday’s footage, and I look like a Janeane Garofalo bobblehead doll. Active listening, while generally appreciated in the real world, on camera makes me look like I have a bit of the Parkinson’s. The highlight of the shoot was at 7:30, when the gorgeous 1955 cherry red Chevy convertible came rolling down the road in all its diesel glory. Hot damn, that was a fine machine - it was so clean and shiny and big and wonderful – and it was there for us to use. Just sitting in it had me all giddy and stupid and numb to the 96-degree weather and 86% humidity and the fact that my makeup was sliding off my face. That high quickly faded to horror, since the opening scene required me to get out of the car and lean against it, and the re-takes required me to get back into the car - with each re-take I proceeded to track tree seedpods and dogwood fuzzies and dirt and all sorts of nature garbage into the car, all over the light-tan floor mat. I tried kicking my shoes to get the junk off before climbing back in, but those evil little $3 keds are the stuff of housewives’ nightmares. I felt like such a chump when apologizing to the owner couple – they were cool, though.

So far, I have to say that the best part of this experience is getting to try things out – seeing what works and what doesn’t on film (as a character – usually I’m just an announcer-type in industrials) is a learning process, and I’m honored that these guys have faith in me to make it work. I hope to make them proud.

a visit from the procrastination fairy

cosa numero uno: my first foray into audioville, Fringe Podcast #1, is officially available to the masses. One could download it from the Minnesota Fringe Festival website, and one could also download it directly from iTunes. Yes, we’ve hit The Big Time. Heck, on iTunes you can even subscribe to the Fringe Podcast via RSS feed (I’m writing like I know what this is) and get automatic updates when we post new ones. So fancy! cosa numero dos: must. memorize. lines.

Filming for The Monster of Phantom Lake starts this weekend – a week earlier than anticipated – due to the oh-so-lucky securing of a 1955 Chevy convertible. Yes, the leading man gets to drive a snazzy car. Lucky.

Tonight was to be my night of hunkering-down and memorizing my lines before the weekend. But no, I’ve brushed-up on my procrastination ability instead – ‘tis a learn-ed skill that I have mastered well. So far tonight, I’ve sold some embarrassing CDs to the Electric Fetus, pampered my soon-to-be oft-used bicycle with chrome polish/rust remover, ate some turkey and crackers hoping it’d pass as dinner, talked to The Bean on the phone, actually managed to highlight my lines and make a scene breakdown before writing to the director to see if the shoot schedule is set in stone (so I can memorize the appropriate scenes each week before the shoots instead of all in one sitting), and wrote this entry. Alas, the hunkering is not going so well.

T-20 hours and counting

Tomorrow, July 1, at 12 noon, marks the launch of the newly re-designed Minnesota Fringe Festival website. This is a pretty cool thing unto itself, but what makes it even cooler is that along with the launch comes the first ever Fringe Podcast – the same Fringe Podcast for which I make my public debut as the official Voice of the Fringe. Now this official “Voice” stuff is only an announcer-type gig, not a Carl Rove-type gig – I will not strategize with other hateful mongerish types and feed Cooper specific vocabulary to justify stupid preemptive wars that the Fringe starts in the name of saving poor, oppressed artists from juried festivals. For one thing, Cooper is a genius and doesn’t need anyone to cook up talking points for her; Secondly, war is stupid.

So anyway, within the last few weeks I’ve recorded some of Foster’s beautifully written openings/news tidbits, interviewed about twenty performers, had a Terri Gross/Fresh Air Moment with a super-insightful question about a performer’s relationship with his father, and floundered for the longest five minutes of my life in what I will heretofore call The Worst Interview Ever.

Before three weeks ago, the only people I had ever interviewed were Grandma and Grandpa Horton for a grade-school project on heritage – now I’ve not only administered interviews, I’ve administered them in front of a live audience. While I’m proud, I’m also freaked out – I can’t believe I did that and didn’t completely suck 100 percent of the time. To be fair, I’d give it more of a 40/60 sucking-to-not ratio. Download the podcast tomorrow afternoon and hear for yourself – and just when you start to think, “…hey! - that wasn’t that bad!,” remember the benefits of editing.

Extreme tag, of course.

An acquaintance of mine just forwarded along the following call from a local casting director:

Casting a NON-UNION spot for ECCO sandals. One year national and international buyout, pay is $1,500.00 + 20%. They'll book 2 women, 2 men. We need super athletic, in shape groovy lookin' guys and gals in their 20s to 30s who can play extreme tag.

Sounds easy? Hah. THE CHALLANGE IS THE SHOE SIZES. WOMEN: 6, 6.5 US, 37 EURO MEN: 8, 8.5 US, 41 EURO These are the ONLY sizes of the sandals that exist.

Cast: Fri 6/17 Callback: Tue 6/21 Shoot: Thur 6/23 (Weather Day; Fri 6/24)

This thing requires a whole new take on the old If the Shoe Fits adage. The sad part is that the literal shoe fits, but the figurative shoe doesn’t. It cracks me up that “THE CHALLENGE” is the shoe size – apparently they think super athletic groovy lookin’ guys and gals who can play extreme tag are a dime a dozen in Minnesota, it’s just those wackjobs with the smaller feet that are slim-pickins. And I would love some enlightenment on the whole “extreme tag” thing. What is that, and does it involve helicopters?

Why this went out to actors is beyond me. Models I could understand, but actors? Note to casting directors: THIS IS MINNESOTA. Minnesotans are known for two things: their support of the arts and their nasty drinking habits. Support of the arts and/or being an artist automatically disqualifies one from the possibility of being “super athletic” – they’re mutually exclusive.

Meet the new Ms. Stephanie Yates

I can’t believe it - I got the part! You are looking at the new female lead, Stephanie Yates, scientific graduate student extraordinaire and love interest of WWII Veteran (don’t be grossed out, it’s set in 1956) and all around sexy mofo, Professor Daniel Jackson, in the Saint Euphoria Pictures film The Monster of Phantom Lake. Oh, and by the way, I finished reading the script Saturday morning and realized that it’s definitely a throw-back to The Creature from the Black Lagoon. Not Swamp Thing. Well, maybe Swamp Thing, but I just remembered that I’ve never seen Swamp Thing. Anyway, it’s going to be a blast. The script is funny and well written, and the director and producer are smart and geeky-nice – so it’ll be just like working with MoCW or the old Scrimshaw Brothers/Look Ma, No Pants crew. I’m so excited, I’ve been doing the Horton Happy Dance. If you’ve never seen it, that’s probably a good thing because it’s ridiculous. Ask Reid Knuttila, he’ll show you.

Auditioning according to Darwin

I had my film audition on Saturday, and it went pretty well. The biggest challenge of the audition was just getting there – it was clear out in Mahtomedi – so far out there that even Google Maps couldn’t get it quite right. There were two very specific streets (Wildwood Road and this thing that goes by four names: Division St./Century Ave. N./Geneva Avenue N./East County Line Road N.) that I came to discover, after a good 30 minutes of driving around in Mahtomedi, are labeled as County Road numbers instead of their proper given names at major intersections. But only at major intersections. So for all intents and purposes, Wildwood Road is actually County Road 244, and is NOT to be confused with Wildwood Avenue or Old Wildwood Road. Same deal for that freaky road with four names. By the time I put a few thousand extra miles on my car, clearly convinced that if I could even FIND the place, they’d have to cast me out of sheer awe for my incredible perseverance, I found it. I had a good laugh to myself after the audition when the producer mentioned that their afternoon auditioners were far more regular in showing up than their morning ones. Apparently their 9 am didn’t show, and the others were late. No kidding - If I had a 9 am audition (God help me if I ever do – ick), and I got lost in Mahtomedi, I would truly just say fuck it and go home.

Thanks to the locals of Mahtomedi for their patience and kindness in offering directions. Even if they never mentioned the bizarre Christian Name/County Road # phenomenon.

uhhhhh...

On Tuesday night I watched my newly acquired DVD of Before Sunset (open letter to the IRS: thanks for the tax write-off!). The first time I saw this movie in the theater, I came out speechless. Few works of art ever cause me to be completely mind-blown - examples include Company C Na Na’s Tyrannous Rex at the 2003 MN Fringe, Before Sunset’s predecessor Before Sunrise, Almodovar’s Habla con Ella, Eric Matthews’ It’s Heavy in Here, any album by Self, etc.) Anyway, Before Sunset not only stuns me to the point of overwhelmed silence because I feel like someone has secretly taped my life and then put it on screen, but also because the acting is so precise. It’s so good it makes me want to weep. The characterizations are so spot-on, so natural, so fresh. The two leads, combined with the script, make this thing flipping indestructible. This of course leads to the next logical question: when do I get to do this? I tell you, while I really appreciate doing industrials for the big yellow tag which shall remain nameless, or the other association that pesters millions of people via telephone daily, or any number of other well-meaning groups, helping people figure out how to sell cell-phones or pressure people into paying their delinquent bills is not especially gratifying work. It pays beautifully and helps keep food on the table, but doesn’t allow for much, shall we say, interpretation. And seeing as my feature film work is seriously lacking in, well, existence, my chops aren’t what they need to be to even consider auditioning for something as potentially awesome. Even if I could get an audition.

This leads me to share that I have an audition on Saturday for a feature-length film. It’s a low-budget indi deal that’s a throw-back to 50’s horror films along the lines of Swamp Thing. Yes, yes, I realize that this will be highly stylized, and nothing like the naturalistic style of Before Sunset but I also realize that this is as good a starting point as any. This is all, of course, contingent on me getting cast in the first place. I’m in contest for what appears to be a lead female, although I don’t think I’m “beautiful” enough to get the part. I hate it when films advertise for "beautiful" actors. I mean really, what kind of narcissistic jerk responds to something like that? Thank god I didn’t read that description until they placed a revised call – there’s no way in hell I would have responded. Anyway, I’ve had a promising e-mail or two with the director after sending him my headshot and resume, but I’m pretty confident he’s going to change his mind once he sees me.

On top of all that self-consciousness, I have no idea what to do for a monologue (can’t just use one of my stage audition monologues, because the acting style between theater and film is so different). So basically, I’ve got to get my act together before Saturday at 1 pm. Anyone know how to lose 20 pounds and memorize a killer two-minute film monologue in two days?

Yeah, screwed.

Fringeyness

Had a meeting with Leah Cooper of the Minnesota Fringe Festival about various projects I’ve got my paws in right now. This will be the first year since 2000 that I will not be performing on stage at the Fringe, as my theater company, The Ministry of Cultural Warfare, is on a little hiatus. Whilst I understand the need for the exceptionally talented Matthew Foster to regain the desire to write again, I am still sad about not getting the opportunity to be publicly snarky and applauded for it. Foster’s words make me all sparkly.

No worries, though - I will be keeping busy with quite a few less sparkly but equally Fringey projects:

  1. Acting as a coordinator for the out-of-town artists. Making sure they have a place to stay, know their schedule, know where they’re going – essentially the same thing I do for the artists at the Walker (day job).
  2. Acting as producer for Fringeville’s late-night talk-show/entertainment catastrophe-waiting-to-happen (Intramural Staring Contest anyone?) Fringe-a-Go-Go. Must see what those Ferarri McSpeedy boys are up to, and see if they’d be willing to host.
  3. And most exciting of all – being the Voice-of-The-Fringe in its very first dive into the world of podcasting! I’ll be walking the streets (with the pimping Rik Reppe, of Staggering Toward America fame, on recording equipment) interviewing Fringe artists, audiences, sponsors, donors, directors, volunteers, and curious passers-by about many a thing. You’ll be able to download the results from fringefestival.org and listen to them on any old MP3 player.

Ta-DAA!

New York City?! Get a rope.

Yesterday I returned from my first visit to New York and I’m still wide-eyed and silly-grinned. I stayed at a Comfort Inn in mid-town Manhattan, on 35th, between Macy’s and The Empire State Building. The hotel only reinforced the notion that I should be wary of businesses that name themselves in an all-too-obvious way, because it always ends up being ironic and I hate irony. Especially when I’m tired.

Let’s just chalk this one up to the “true price” of affordability. The view ended up surprising, though – I threw back the curtains and opened up the windows to see a bunch of (wait for it...) other buildings! Discovered several hours later during a post-traveling daze that one of the buildings was the Empire State. Not so bad after all.

That first afternoon I took the subway down to Greenwich Village, and after walking around a bit decided on a Mexican joint for dinner and a margarita. The waiter took my order and returned moments later, put a hand on my shoulder and asked, “how do I know you?” After a second look, I excitedly recognized him as a long-lost friend from freshman year of college. There was lots of laughing and hugging (he started it) and I was thrilled and shocked - I couldn’t believe that within hours of stepping off the plane into a very large, very foreign city, I was beautifully greeted by an old friend.

I managed the whole Manhattan scene pretty well – wore dark colors, walked fast, talked regularly and without shame on the cell phone I only use for emergencies in Minneapolis. Locals (okay they were kids, but they were still local) asked me for directions on the subway and I was able to answer them correctly. I studied those maps HARD before going in public. I walked in places that I’ve seen a billion times in movies – Washington Square Park, the Bethesda Fountain, The Mall in Central Park, Statue of Liberty, Times Square - and can’t wait to see the movies again so I can geek-out with a silent and giddy I was there!

Here’s where the theater part (and relevance to the greenroom) comes in. I had advance tickets to the opera, but dutifully stood in line in Times Square for tickets to a couple of Broadway shows. I saw:

Tosca at The Met Classic opera, everyone important dies long, brooding, tragic deaths. Open letter to the leads: What is UP with the curtain-call bows several times before the show is even over and after your character already died? Holy ego, Batman!. Sincerely, A Confused Novice Opera-Goer.

RENT at the Nederlander Theatre (Broadway) This completely renewed my faith in being a performer - it truly blew my mind. The talent was astounding. I wanted to forget all about my grad-school aspirations and march down there with resume and headshot in hand and give it everything I had. It made me long to be a part of something entertaining and relevant and inspiring again.

La Cage Aux Folles at the Marquis Theater (Broadway) So bad. Really, really, inexcusably bad. Okay, the ensemble and sets were fantastic, but the primaries were lame. Beach impersonated Nathan Lane admirably, Goulet phoned it in, the kid who played his son had a great voice and no stage presence, the girl who played the kid’s fiancé was so less than one-dimensional that she almost reached void status. It gets a big, fat thbbt.

Shows I’m kicking myself for not seeing Wicked, Avenue Q, Spamalot, and Shockheaded Peter (off-Broadway). Especially the latter because I was hoping there'd be some crossover from the cast/crew of Improbable Theatre's The Hanging Man that we hosted here in Minneapolis in fall of 2003. I gotta tell you, nothing funnier than a visit to Sex World with bunch of Brits...

So, that was my first New York experience. I’ll return in the fall to attend an info session at Columbia for their graduate program, and call all the people I know out there to get exposure to the outer boroughs. I think I’ll love Brooklyn.

I’ll also plan on many more theater-related experiences: a friend is best buds with the sound designer for Spamalot (free tickets!), and another, new, friend is rehearsing a show with Richard Maxwell/New York City Players (the Walker Art Center brought Boxing 2000 and Joe here as part of the Out There series)…he’s invited me to a rehearsal that would be fascinating to watch (free rehearsal!). Another friend acts as a lighting tech/company manager for Ann Bogart’s SITI Company (free tickets?), and another friend is lighting designer for the San Diego Opera and the Old Globe Theater (free tickets to Dirty Rotten Scoundrels? Turandot?) Oh – is that your phone ringing? Why, it’s me! calling in favors!

Yeah, You Probably Spelled it Wrong

Welcome!  If you’re looking for the stage, screen, and voice-over actress based in Minneapolis, you’ve reached the right place.  A note, though - my name is not spelled any of the ways listed below.  But I’m still glad you found me, even by searching that way. Thing is, people who look me up on the internet often don’t know that my name has a relatively unique spelling, and therefore get lost in a sea of useless Google search results.  That said, I figured I’d offer up all sorts of alternatives below, in an attempt to help you at least get a search result that would ultimately lead you here.

And so, hello!  I’m Leigha Horton.  And, while we’re at it, it’s pronounced “LEE-ah,” not “LAY-uh.”  I know, picky, picky.

 

Leah Horton

Lea Horton

Leia Horton

Lia Horton

Leeyah Horton

Leeah Horton

Leeia Horton

Leigha Horten

Leah Horten

Lea Horten

Leia Horten

Lia Horten

Leeyah Horten

Leeah Horten

Leeia Horten