Back in the Show-Biz Saddle

Friday, April 23, 2004

Page 15

AT THE SIDEBAR (Column)

Back in the Show-Biz Saddle

By J’AMY PACHECO

When my daughter was five, she brought home some surprising news one day: she was to play Hazelbelle Hanks, the lead, in her kindergarten play, “No Turkey For Perky.”

I was, to put it mildly, stunned beyond belief. The role required that she sing a solo, and my daughter was so shy around strangers that she regularly hid behind me to avoid making eye contact with people she didn’t know.

But after weeks of rehearsals at her arts-based school and the purchase of a brand-new foofy dress, Hazelbelle performed admirably and Hazelbelle’s mommy was again able to sleep nights.

She performed in two plays last year, in first grade, opting to be a dancer in both. With no songs to sing and no lines to memorize, her happy feet danced comfortably across the stage in “The King and I” and a Disney musical revue.

She explained to me then that she never wanted to be “one of those kids who gets on stage and forgets their lines.” With that in mind, I thought she intended to dance her way through elementary school.

So when the tryout notice came home a few weeks ago for “Bubba the Cowboy Prince,” I assumed she’d join the ranks of the gingham-clad square dancers who would kick up their heels between scenes.

“Bubba” is a cowboy-themed Cinderella story in reverse. Bubba is the Cinderella character, and is transformed into a handsome dude by a fairy god cow. Miz Lurleen, as the “richest and purtiest ranch owner in these here parts,” is the female equivalent of Cinderella’s prince.

At the end of tryout week, I couldn’t have been more surprised when my daughter told me breathlessly that she’d won the part of Miz Lurleen—and that she was excited about it. Not only would she have lines, but she would have to dance with the cute little guy who was playing Bubba.

I was even more surprised days later, when I sneaked into a rehearsal to see how things were going. Miz Lurleen stood on stage, reading one of her lines from a piece of paper.

“Say-yall the ray-ench! I’d have to be plumb craaaaazy to say-yall this place!” she enunciated in an unfamiliar southern twang.

I leaned over to her teacher.

“When did my daughter start speaking with a Texas drawl?” I whispered.

“Immediately,” the teacher whispered back.

It was hilarious. But, since the play is a comedy, that’s a good thing.

It’s been a few weeks, and she has most of her lines memorized. Although she hesitated at first to perform them in front of friends and family, a reminder that she would soon do so on stage motivated her to give it a try.

She seems to enjoy the attention she gets when she bellows out her lines in that southern drawl. She really seems to enjoy the laughs that inevitably come when that big Texas voice comes out of her petite girly face.

I’m not sure where the sudden confidence originated, but I suspect it has something to do with the fact that one of her craziest best buddies plays her assistant, Agnes. The two little girls, who are side-by-side in nearly every scene, are funny just standing together on stage.

Costuming is going to be a challenge. My daughter, a huge fan of “Queen of the West” Dale Evans, wants an outfit that looks like something Dale would have worn.

She found the ideal outfit on display—not for sale—in a shop at Disneyland. It’s a bright yellow fringed skirt and vest combo, with enormous red roses lined with sequins spilling down the front of both pieces.

Oy.

And, of course, the “richest and purtiest ranch owner in these here parts” is convinced she needs boots and a hat to go with the outfit. Dale would have worn them, you know.

So Miz Lurleen’s mama is going to have to figure out how to costume her little rancher in a style befitting Bubba’s gal before the two go riding off into the sunset to live happily ever after, without having to mortgage the homestead.

Since I’m a marginal seamstress with very little free time to search for fabrics, hats and boots, I’m not exactly sure how I’m going to pull this off.

It occurs to me that I sure could use a fairy god-cow right about now…