It’s that time again at Teatro ZinZanni. We call it “changeover” and it’s when one show closes and another one opens. For about two weeks, two different casts mingle backstage. During the day the spiegeltent is busy with the rehearsal of the new show, and at night, the tent glows with the final performances of A Suitcase Named Desire.

Meanwhile across town, the Teatro ZinZanni Prop and Costume Shop is jumping. For the show about to open this week, Quest for a Queendom, the need for a life mask of comedienne Krissie Illing came out of the rehearsal process. So Krissie made her way over to the shop for the Royale Treatment.

Here she is, putting lotion on her face.

Straws firmly embedded in nostrils, Krissie gets a special hello from Shop Cat, Love (or is this one Chaos?) ZinZanni.

Prop Shop Magicians Shauna (on left) and Jake mix up the mask formula and apply it to Krissie’s face.

Jake evens out the mask medium and makes sure Krissie can actually breathe.

Finally, the mask comes off.

And Krissie is rewarded with a visit with Jake’s new bulldog puppy, Diane Velour.

Meanwhile, out in the Costume Shop, every machine is humming as stitchers get costumes ready for Quest for a Queendom, opening at Teatro ZinZanni this Thursday, June 26.

Photos by Korum Bischoff. Copyright Teatro ZinZanni 2008.

It’s obvious, as soon as we sit down across from her in the café and she starts talking: Melanie Stace, our current Madame ZinZannia, is clearly smitten.

“There’s something magical that happens every night at Teatro ZinZanni - it just opens everything for up for me as a performer,” says the raven-haired 30-something performer. “The audience interaction, the intimacy of the tent, the sense of wonderment and anticipation. Everyone is very charming – they want to tell me how much fun they’re having, they introduce me to their family. They tell me that they feel like they’ve been part of a private party at somebody’s place.”

This is Melanie’s second time in Seattle and her fourth engagement with Teatro ZinZanni. She came into the “Hail, Caesar!” show at our tent in San Francisco in July, 2006.

“I like Seattle, the weather reminds me of London. I’m the bikini-and-umbrella type,” laughs Melanie. “It was actually snowing on the day I arrived in March. That was a bit much.”

But coming back to Seattle was a warmly welcomed event, snow or not.

“Last April, after a seven month run with Teatro ZinZanni, I felt bereft and blue once I got home. Every day, though, there was some kind of message or connection from Teatro ZinZanni. A call from Reenie (Teatro ZinZanni’s associate artistic director) or a text from Peter Pitofsky (fellow cast member). Something kept at me so I was glad to come back.”

The show gives her an opportunity to do all the things she likes to do - singing and dancing – and to try something new. For example: flying up on the moon up into the middle of the tent at the finale (“I’ve never done that before in my life!”)

“I also get to do magic. My grandfather was a magician and my grandmother was his assistant so there’s something quite right about it.”

Known as a triple threat performer because she can dance and sing and act, Melanie has performed in London’s West End as Louise in Gypsy, Sally in Follies, Lola in Barry Manilow’s Copacabana, April in the Olivier Award-winning tap musical Hot Shoe Shuffle, and Polly Baker in the Tony Award-winning Gershwin musical Crazy For You. A well-known TV personality, Melanie was co-host of the popular BBC prime time Saturday night TV show, The Generation Game for six years.

Teatro ZinZanni is an opportunity to combine all her talents as well as collaborate on the show content.

“I get to sing while the audience dances, like a 40s bandstand singer with the mirror ball spinning and I’m wearing an incredible gown. It’s amazing watching everyone - there are people who haven’t danced together in 20 years or people who are holding each other for the first time. I say, ‘Gentleman, ask your wives, girlfriends, boyfriends to dance - all three of them if you like!’ and people just love it.”

Melanie has been entertaining a non-stop flow of visiting family and friends since “A Suitcase Named Desire” opened in March. Her brother, writer and singer John Wesley Harding, is coming in soon with her niece Tilda who is now two years old. Her mother and stepfather came in already and her father is coming next week. John, her partner and husband, comes in after that.

Despite the non-stop shifts of visiting family and friends and the demands of the show, Melanie still finds time to work on her second album of all original material. She’s got eight tracks so far and is shooting for 12.

“Right now I’m working on a west coast vibe. Everything influences everything and the collaborative nature of our show at Teatro ZinZanni has made my work on my album richer. I’m a lyric-driven person. Norm Langill, our director, had me write my own lines,” explains Melanie. “My work becomes more multi-dimensional as I get older, I used to just want to be in the shows, now I want to create more and more. All in all right now my life is very creatively satisfying.

“Teatro ZinZanni time seems to go very fast so I try to savor every minute,” smiles Melanie. “I go around the tent systematically before the show starts (also looking for victims!) and ask people if they’ve been to the tent before, many people are guests of return guests. I get a little jealous of them, knowing that it’s their very first time since it’s so special.

“You know, it’s constant progress with each show,” she laughs. “What’s not to love!”

After months of tweaks, our building’s front and marquee are finished!

So one day awhile back we spent the day shooting photos of veteran TZ performers the lovely Svetlana and the mysteriously goofy Voronin at Michael Doucett’s studio in Pioneer Square. We get off to a rocky start and discover that we’re not exactly on the same page; for example, Svetlana didn’t understand that we wanted to photograph them together, but finally she tells me he was still sleeping when she left the house and she left the phone on near his head on the pillow on purpose. But he was out late the night before and we should wait a while before we call.

We met Svet at the tent at 11 a.m. and watched as she transformed herself from just another mom in sweats dropping off her kid at the daycare into Svetlana, Magic Dream Doll, dressed as Louise says like “Tim Burton Met Barbie.”

Which wig? The light pink or the heavy fushia?

Which shoes? Her gold sparkly ones or the cfm lavender boots with the little bow ties?

We pile into the car and glide down town to Pio Square where we score Doris Day parking right in front of the studio. We usher her up the rickety elevator into the studio where Michael has spent all morning setting up pink lights that we immediately realize don’t work. Finally after Valerie the dresser fluffs her skirt and Michael deftly touches up her cheeks with powder, we are set.

Svetlana is a pro - she is immediately in character and Michael gets all sentimental and flowery and stops finishing his sentences and then suddenly mid-flash he tells her - that’s it!

At 11 a.m. I call Voronin. After the fourth attempt he coughs into the phone. I explain several times that we have a photo shoot scheduled today, remember?

“But my costume, it is at the cleaners. Finally after last show we send it to the dry cleaners.”

In my mind I see a swallow tail tux standing up by itself.

“We shooting you in the gray outfit. Nanette has it ready for you at the tent.”

“Call me back one hour.”

I call back in a half hour.

“Ygenya, I’ll come get you.”

He is in the bath. He coughs into the receiver again then I hear him inhale smoke.

I take this as affirmative and Valerie and I get in the car and drive to his house. We collect him and despite his much publicized evening of partying, he is remarkably fresh. His after shave is pleasant. He already smells like smoke and coffee, but clean, vibrant. En route he talks about the show, Mark Stock, his friend the painter, and Peter Pitofsky, his fellow performer. We slow down to let a group of people cross in front of us on Dexter.

“Too slow, these people.” He gestures impatiently.

I recognize a group of co-workers heading en masse to Taco del Mar for Double Punch Monday and chuckle.

Once at the tent he dresses in record time. Valerie and I are looking for the suitcase with the hole in it - there are many suitcases in the prop room. We can’t find it and I start to worry - I figure by this time Svetlana has probably had enough of Michael’s stream of consciousness running commentary and that my colleagues may be starting to get nervous. Voronin plucks it out of a dark corner and we pile back into the station wagon. Half way across town, Voronin realizes he still has his street clothes socks on - green with frogs.

Again, perfect parking in front of the studio. Three young men are leaning against the door frame entrance to the studio smoking - they have just come out of the skateboard shop to the left of the studio entrance. They are young dudes, wearing identical uniforms of skinny tight black straight-leg jeans and black, black dyed hair, spiked up a bit. One has raccoon eyes. All three do a classic double take as Voronin emerges from my car, his black Sherlock Holmes-meets-Dracula cape fastened around his neck. He pauses, puts on his top hat. As he glides past the baby goths, he nods briefly and then enters the building.

Svetlana and Voronin natter away in Russian as Michael flutters about setting and resetting lights. Michael is friends with them with both and he is very excited. Several times he trips over his tripods.

“Look at his face. I love it when we get this Rembrandt effect from this harsher light under his cheekbone. Perfect! Perfect!”

I always find it hard not to laugh at Voronin as he mugs, poses regally, looks sinister, pretends to be casting spells. The dresser is a giggler too. Our laughter eggs him on. Svetlana is his ideal foil, unblinkingly, mechanically posed. The combination of the two of them is striking.

And Voronin is full of ideas.

“American Gothic. Old West family shot. Let’s dance together. Suitcase shots.”

Finally it is clear Svet is done. We feed her coffee but she says she can’t pee in this costume, to please take her home. I leave my colleagues alone with Voronin and Michael.

I return to the studio for the third time. But my parking karma is spent and I have to park up near the ferry terminal. By now it is 2:30 p.m. when I get into the elevator and check my phone and just as I get off on the 5th floor I get a voice mail from Korum. “Voronin needs more coffee and some sandwiches.” I turn around and trudge back out into the world.

Finally we are finished with the posed shots of Voronin. He has more ideas. We pretend he is on a bridge in the fog with the suitcase and the top hat and he has a long long red flowing scarf billowing out behind him - Korum, our designer, thinks we can doctor the shot to have copy inside the scarf. It might be the right image to illustrate the move on the web site.

We wander downstairs and head toward the car, but suddenly Voronin disappears into an antique shop. He comes back out and grabs Korum. “Come. Bring camera.”

He sits in the middle of the shop like a ghost from a different time. The owner of the shop doesn’t bat an eye. Like this happens every day. Voronin buys an old oil can and a bunch of keys. “I use like this - here is the key to the puppet’s heart. Can you wrap these like a present?”

He finds a pair of old sheep shears.

“What you think? For the knife throwing scene. I pretend to throw and then ask Peter if he thinks this is a good weapon. He shakes his head and then ping!” Voronin flips open the shears and pretends to pare his nails. “It’s good, no?”

The store owner finally smiles.

Suddenly my phone squawks. It’s Nanette, the costume shop manager, wondering where Voronin is so she can take care of his costume.

We double check all the props and costume pieces. Nobody likes an angry Nanette.

Reluctantly we leave the shop and drive back to the tent, listening to Voronin’s ideas about the show in San Francisco. As we pull into the parking lot, Voronin spies his car, left there the night before.

“You can jump my battery?”

Sure, I say, but first let’s get your tux back to Nanette.

American clown Peter Pitofsky returns to Teatro ZinZanni’s magical spiegeltent in the all-new show “A Suitcase Named Desire,” opening Thursday, March 20 and running through June.

Uncanny timing, a malleable face and a willingness to do anything for a laugh have all earned Peter the title of “Human Cartoon.” His years of street theater on the infamous Venice Beach walk, along with go-for-broke stand-up sets at L.A.’s Comedy Store, earned him opening slots with some of comedy’s heavyweights, including Mel Brooks, Jay Leno, Penn & Teller, and more. “A Suitcase Named Desire” is Peter’s eighth engagement with Teatro ZinZanni.

It’s 4:00 p.m. on  wintery Seattle Monday afternoon. The rain is falling sideways as we load up Liesl’s car with Thelma Houston’s costume and my Subaru with Korum, my colleague, and our French acrobats, Les Petits Freres. We’ve been invited to perform at the Sonics/Lakers game. Even though Key Arena is only four blocks away, it feels like it takes us twenty minutes to get through traffic.

We unload at the media entrance and Korum ushers everyone inside while I go park the car. When I finally get back to the arena, I follow Thelma’s voice to the center of the basketball court. Empty of fans, the Key Arena feels weirdly intimate. The lighting is subdued and the only people walking around are wearing official-looking jerseys and headsets. TZ Associate Artistic Director Reenie Duff and her daughter, Madelaine, are seated across the court from where Thelma is doing her sound check. Next to them the Freres have tossed their jackets and scarves on the courtside seats. The three Freres (Domitil, Mickeal and Gregory) cluster around Damian, the Sonic’s Entertainment Manager. They are busy discussing entrances and exits, sound cues and defining the performing space with Damian asking and answering questions in his rapid-fire sports-guy American English, while the Freres confer with each other in French and then one of them (not always the same one) answers Damian’s question. After the sound check and walk through, conversation veers towards the mysteries of Will Call, where do we go? Everyone gets on their cell phones. Girlfriends and wives, boyfriends and parents are alerted to correct location of the Sonics Ticket Office, envelopes are quickly scratched out and imprinted with new names.We decide not to go back to the spiegeltent and wander backstage to check out the dressing rooms and the crew meal. Backstage the ushers are handsomely dignified and incredibly helpful. Thelma Houston is already set up in her dressing room, busy with her make-up. We talk through the logistics, how much time she has to get ready, whether we should go eat now or later. The backstage food is not so bad. Chicken and burgers, bbq potato chips. Lots of bottled water. Finally it’s time. Thelma, resplendent in her Madame ZinZanni costume with her feathered headdress, emerges from her dressing room into the hallway. We joke around with the matronly usher and all have our pictures taken in various combinations with Thelma. The Refs emerge from their secure dressing room and despite the armed police escort, flirt with Thelma as they parade by. We walk briskly around the stadium perimeter, skirting the underneath of the grandstand risers, Thelma’s high heels clicking confidently on the concrete floor. The pulse of the place has picked up significantly and with the surge in the volume of people, it’s as though the place has vaulted up several stories. Lights are blindingly bright, the music is relentlessly upbeat. We stand in the vom leading into the court, waiting, smiling like our faces will break, ready for Thelma’s cue to sing. The Lakers are practicing down at this end. Graceful as cheetahs, they lope effortlessly down and back to the half court line, stopping and popping up to swish balls in from mid-court. A horn blasts and the pace picks up even more, the announcer’s voice booms, lights spin. The Lakers exit the court walking past Thelma, most nodding to her, some stopping to shake her hand. A Seattle Times photographer stops me and we chat about a recent online audio slide show about El Vez that appeared several weeks ago. We agree that camping out at the tent and working closely with the performers yields the best work. She wishes us luck and vanishes into the crowd. Suddenly the Freres arrive, fluttering around Thelma like butterflies, kissing her on both cheeks for luck and disappearing as quickly as they came. The announcer introduces Thelma: “Ladies and Gentlemen, please welcome Grammy award-winning performing artist Thelma Houston, now appearing as Madame ZinZanni at Teatro ZinZanni. Please rise as she sings our national anthem.” It’s a force four goose-bump moment when Thelma hits the “rockets red glare.” Then just like that, boom, the song is over and the game begins. Both teams are comprised of this amazing race of tall, slender muscular men who gracefully navigate the length of the court, speaking their own silent language of body cues and strategy, making their own kind of mesmerizing music. Liesl and I join the rest of the ZinZanni cast in their seats and watch as the Sonics take the lead from the Lakers. Suddenly it’s the first timeout of the second quarter, our next cue for the Freres to get ready. Backstage the Sonics Dance Team Girls are stretching and practicing in the hallway, while Squatch, the Sonics’ mascot, combs out his fur in a full-length mirror. The Freres start their warm up. Finally their cue comes at the top of Half Time. The crowd rises all at once and starts streaming towards the exits for the bathrooms and the concessions stands. Two of the Freres enter from one end of the court while the other comes in on the opposite side, swimming literally against the crowd. Their act is performed to “Sing, Sing, Sing (with a swing),” music made famous by Benny Goodman. The music alone is hard to ignore. Add three saucy Parisian pixies and you have the Sonics crowd stopped in their tracks. A cool minute into their act, the Freres had conquered the crowd. By the time they stack standing up on one another’s shoulders, everyone was roaring. And, oh by the way, the Sonics only lost by two points in overtime.

Monday, January 14th is Teatro ZinZanni Night at the Sonics/Lakers Game
Disco Diva Thelma Houston is on tap to sing the National Anthem while our very own Parisian pixie sprites, Les Petits Freres are the featured half-time entertainment. We can’t wait to see Thelma in costume up on the jumbo tron at Key Arena or see how the crowd reacts to the comedic antics and athletic feats of the Freres. Check back for photos.

Christine Deaver Continues the Tradition of a ZinZanni Artist at Gage Academy’s Annual Drawing Jam
On December 1, Seattle’s own Christine Deaver posed in costume at Gage Academy’s 8th Annual Drawing Jam, following in the footsteps of Voronin and Kevin Kent. Dressed in her Voluptuous Panic costume and accompanied by live music, Christine posed for an hour as students and members of the general public made sketches.

El Vez Participates in McSweeney’s 826 Writing Program for Youth.
Also in December, El Vez stepped in at the last minute to participate in the highly successful 826 Writing Program.

Sergiy Krutikov Helps the Moore Celebrate 100 Years
Beloved Gentleman Juggler Sergiy Krutikov  was part of the marathon  Moore Theatre’s 100th Anniversary Celebration on Monday, December 10th.

Sayonara Belltown!
One last view of Teatro ZinZanni’s old Belltown home as seen from the Monorail.
It’s been fun Belltown, but it’s time for us to move on… 

As the publicist for Teatro ZinZanni sometimes I get to sit in on interviews with cast members and the press.  A couple weeks ago, John Longenbaugh, a reporter for the Seattle Weekly, interviewed two young ZinZanni performers, Russian contortionist Vita Radionova and Parisian acrobat Mickael Bajazet. 

Here’s a link to John’s story which ran last week: 

http://www.seattleweekly.com/2007-12-12/arts/longenbaugh-on-theatre.php 

In our show at Teatro ZinZanni, these two sexy, young and vivacious performers usually have some comic romantic antics where Mickael, as a bumbling accident-prone waiter, tries vainly to gain Vita’s attention. In our current show, “Hearts on Fire,” Vita plays an uptight, clock-watching secretary, whose laced up garment eventually gets discarded so she can segue into her amazingly sensuous act. 

Later in the show, Mickael performs as one of Les Petits Freres in a gravity-defying acrobatic act.

In real life they are married to each other. 

The interview was held on the Saturday right after we reopened on Mercer Street. We met John at McMeniman’s right across the street from the tent. John and I ordered frothy foamy coffee drinks while Vita and Mickael ordered peppermint tea.

John was spot on in his profile when he called them easily the most physically beautiful people around. They radiate health, athleticism and pure physical grace. 

Mickael’s humor is infectious and Vita’s charm is delightful. They both seem always on the verge of bursting into laughter but their answers to John’s questions resonate as the voices of serious, seasoned and clear-sighted performers. 

“In a large venue I have five or six minutes to convince people with our act; at Teatro ZinZanni we have two or three hours to meet the audience.”  

“My body is stronger and faster than ever before. When I was in Circus School, we would do crazy things - like doing as many standing back flips as we could in a row before the Metro came. Now a few years later, I find that I have to warm up a little bit more…”

“To be natural is the hardest thing. You cannot fool the audience.”

“As long as there is the spark, I will do this.”