Talish Barrow does not consider himself a song-and-dance man. Until recently he did not even really like musicals. Four years at an art high school and four more studying drama at New York University made him a theater traditionalist. He majored in acting but has not truly performed for nearly a decade.
This fall he finally returned to show business as a stage director, though in the admittedly less glamorous UW-Madison Theatre Department's graduate program. All of this might seem pedestrian, that is, until you consider he is just about the first face you see in the University Theatre's latest offering, ""Urinetown: The Musical.""
In addition to playing Old Man Strong, who is probably best described as the first character that dies in ""Urinetown,"" Barrow is also an assistant director of the show. Such multi-tasking was not initially in Barrow's plans. When a key ensemble member dropped out of the cast, Director Pam Kriger told him he would need to fill the void. That was the first day of rehearsal.
Yet despite its somewhat inauspicious beginning, the subsequent production process has been entirely devoid of any obvious controversy. For some productions, the loss of a cast member would strike a major blow. In all honesty, Barrow is no slouch on stage—as an experienced actor, his ability to stand in is not shocking. At the same time, his situation is emblematic of the entire eight-week production. ""Urinetown: The Musical,"" by all indications, is unsinkable.
However, the potential for disaster is certainly there. According to Barrow, it is hard to generalize but something usually goes wrong. It is simply a reality of the stage. Good casts take the knocks and roll with them. But it seems like ""Urinetown's"" cast is so strong it really has not had any knocks to take. Barrow attributes this, in part, to Kriger's superbly disciplined direction. He also credits the overall youth, large size and energy of the cast for staving off any potential malaise or controversy.
""That really has not come up,"" he plainly states. ""It feels like the energy just continues to feed off itself.""
Days before the show, stage director Kate Johnson was certainly feeding off that energy. With opening night approaching and the show coming together delightfully, Johnson could not help but smile. On account of her demanding position, she certainly earned the right to do so.
The senior theater student does not believe in ranking crewmembers—she prefers the route of humility and says every crewmember is equally vital. But her high placement on the official contact list, not to mention the fact that Johnson practically put together the entire rehearsal schedule, indicates she is fairly important. If she is smiling, that says something.
Johnson is a self-described Type A personality who runs her productions like Trump hustles a boardroom. A mere four days from the first performance, she was positively giddy. The giant grin on her face telegraphed her evaluation of the show's progress and belied her usual calm collectedness.
""I'm thrilled,"" she practically chortles. ""I think that for the size of this show and for the number of cues that we have, we're getting through our second day ... with all the elements and we're getting through it well. People seem to be happy. There are no glaring errors, no glaring mistakes yet and no unforeseen hazards. Overall, we're in a very good spot right now.""
This is largely due to the caliber of the cast, which Johnson describes as ""better than I ever imagined a college cast could be."" One particular example is sophomore Andy White, who plays Bobby Strong.
When the Madison native went to college in St. Louis last year, his ambitions were in the swimming pool. But the theater—as it is prone to do—stole his heart. He quit swimming and St. Louis University, transferred back to his hometown and got himself a voice coach. Now in his first major musical production, he finds himself as a lead playing alongside older performers with ten times his experience.
It does not bother him one bit. At the start of the show he worried a little that his lack of experience might cause some to question his casting. Even he wondered if he had the chops to sing and dance in such a demanding role. Just days before the show though, he found himself standing in rehearsal and thinking to himself, ""I wish I could dance more.""
""He was good to begin with,"" Johnson says. ""And now he's better than that.""
She went so far as to describe his progress as ""amazing."" Part of White's swift acclimation might be a result of how comfortable he seems both on and offstage. He calls the cast his ""best friends at the entire university."" When he talks about rehearsal, Johnson says things like ""It's great"" and ""It's fun"" and ""I haven't gotten sick of it""—words one might not usually associate with spending four hours every weeknight in the dank rehearsal rooms of the Vilas Hall basement.
That is the whole point, though. ""Urinetown"" is sort of supposed to be an anti-musical. Barrow describes it as a loving send-up of the genre. So maybe it makes sense that this particular production has not encountered any of the typical theater pratfalls. There are no cliques, or internal bickering or jealousy over roles. No one has fallen ill or habitually flubbed their lines or inexplicably dyed their hair neon green.
Instead, they hang out and joke around backstage about which cast member sweats the most and adorably eat burgers in a giant pack at Dotty Dumpling's Dowry on their lunch break. At the risk of jinxing the show, it seems like ""Urinetown: The Musical"" is a charmed production and is set to go off without a snag in sight. That is, of course, assuming Andy White does not decide to get serious about his appeal for more dancing between now and the show's Friday opening.
