Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat

For the small, 23-student Middle School I attend, much of this school year was spent preparing, rehearsing, and performing a production of Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat. You know, that Andrew Loyd Webber musical you loved as a kid but can't stand as a person, with all the repetitious, predictable music, the feeble "biblical" storyline, and the annoyingly juvenile lyrics? The one that some high school inevitably does each year (and each year you curse your stupidity at going to)? You know what I mean, the one that is probably responsible for more Broadway suicides each year than all other shows combined (minus that other god-awful Webber show, Cats)? Yeah, that one. We did that one.

And we rocked it. Alright, that might be an over statement. But we did do a good job, and led by the skillful and tireless hands of our two directors, we managed not to kill ourselves (or the audience) during the exhausting, frustrating hours of preparation and rehearsal. And we got standing ovations both nights, albeit if only after our parents, through example, began the difficult process of getting the crowd to stand (even the "Head of School", fancy Quaker word for "principal", didn't show the second night, and left early the first). But a crowd doesn't stand up for nothing. Okay, yes, it is something of a novelty to see a thirteen year-old-girl completely (COMPLETELY!) uninhibited as she chases a fourteen-year-old boy around onstage, swiveling her hips and beckoning with her arms, exaggerating her unique style of seduction entirely shamelessly. And it isn't everyday that you get to watch your fifteen-year-old son put on skin-tight pants, shake his leg and melt girls' hearts as Egyptian royalty. But it certainly isn't often that you get to see them do it well.

Not to say that the production (and subsequent recording) went off without a hitch. That's just not the way it works for middle school musicals, and especially not musicals in which, by sheer numbers, everyone is forced to participate, regardless as to interest or singing ability. While seducing Joseph on the second night, Potifar's wife took a tumble, landing with a deafening bang on the carpeted surface of the hollow, temporary stage. And when dancing, occasionally Joseph's brothers would stumble, trip, and just generally forget what they were doing.

But overall, we overcame our stress and sleep deprivation to put on a pretty awesome show, and again, thanks to the two directors; you guys were amazing. We rocked Joseph. And his multicolored coat. (Unfortunately, no pictures though. The blond girl in that one picture wasn't actually in this particular show, but she's awesome. So she's up here.)

And now we are rehearsing yet another musical, this time a larger, all-school show to be performed in a about a week. Why do we keep hitting ourselves with a hammer? Because it feels so good when we stop.