A standout in a secondary role was Elliott. Opening night was a triumph for all: from those of us beyond the limelight, faces obscured, arms waving in synchrony, to the leads, all of whom could sing and dance effortlessly. What China is – and isn’t – learning from military drills near Taiwan She was not amused, but came through for me. (Her mother apparently could not sew herself into a paper bag.) After turning it over, I asked Mom to whip up another. The director begged me to give it to my classmate, who’d won the role of Liat, Bloody Mary’s daughter. Not only that, but my mother sewed a sarong for me, a beautiful, vividly colored, and artful feat of seamstressing.
#SIGN SIGN EVERYWHERE A SIGN LYRICS SKIN#
I was cast immediately, a fact I attribute to my olive skin and (then) long black hair, which overcame any misgivings the director might have had about my voice.
As part of that chorus I needed only a basic grasp of the simple tune, and with a dozen or more stronger voices surrounding me I felt at ease contributing.
I chalk it up to my one and only experience in such things, my high school’s production of “South Pacific,” a musical I’d so loved as a teen I could not resist auditioning – not for a major role, but as one of the chorus of island women raising our arms in the darkened background of the “Bali Ha’i” number. The dream always ends before the production starts, to the benefit of my self-respect, the hapless director’s reputation, and my potential audience – who no doubt would have fled at the first note. I’d never – in my wildest dreams – pull that off. I have an odd and recurring dream in which I am assigned a lead role in a major musical production and gamely agree to take it on – knowing I can’t sing or act my way out of a paper bag, and knowing I’d rather be anywhere but front and center onstage.
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