Christine Hull
Treasurer
chris@rocktheatreproductions.org
For as long as I
can remember, I've wanted to be a performer. My mother was quite theatrical
with her renditions of fairy tales, giving a different voice to each
character. She was so convincing as the witch in a game of Hansel
and Gretel that my little sister begged her to be our mommy again.
I later learned, as she helped me prepare material for my intermediate
school talent show, that she'd written her high school senior play.
That must have made an impression on me, because I began writing plays
in the fifth grade. I also directed them, casting my friends as the
characters and rehearsing during recess until we were ready to entertain
the rest of our class. Of course, I also reserved the starring roles
for myself, because there is absolutely no point in writing and directing
your own plays if you cannot also be the star...
That same year
I started writing poetry. It all began with a homework assignment, and
blossomed into another way of expressing myself when prose simply wouldn't
do. During my awkward stage (which was rather lengthy, in retrospect),
I spent hours discovering and examining my feelings and finding not
only the right words, but also the right rhythms and rhymes, if any.
One of my poems, Fear, is published in a collection. For a
while, I considered becoming a writer, but the allure of the stage was
too strong.
In Junior High,
there was an organized drama club - and I knew I belonged in it. I gave
up playing bass drum in the school band for the footlights, secure in
my career path. Until, that is, the cast list was posted for that year's
play. I wasn't on it! How could that be? Devastated, I swore through
my tears that I would never try out for another play as long as I lived.
My mother suggested that I volunteer to be an understudy, which I thought
was a ridiculous idea, but she convinced me to humor her, and much to
my surprise the drama teacher accepted my offer. Lo and behold, before
the play opened, one of the kids had to drop out - and I was the only
understudy! It was a male role, but who cared? I would be onstage, and
that was all that mattered. I dug into my role with gusto, and wound
up stealing the show. The rest, as they say, is history.
While I was growing
up, my father used to play the banjo and sing to my sisters and me.
I still remember crying when he sang "Nobody Loves You When You're
Down and Out" because the story was so sad. Even as a small child,
I understood that songs were stories set to music. Dad also played the
violin and the tuba in his youth, and was a drum major in college. Eventually,
he taught me to play the ukelele (my older sister had picked up the
banjo, so I had to be different) and my sisters and I sang folk and
country music together, using spoons or a washboard for rhythm with
his coaching. Harmonies fascinated me, so I gravitated to them, creating
them if they didn't already exist. The tape recorder I received one
year for Christmas spurred my first foray into recording. Along with
our little trio, I experimented with some solo pieces.
Over the years,
drama and music joined forces as I was introduced to musical theatre.
I began studying voice, dance and acting in high school and continued
at the Boston Conservatory of Music, followed by the Hartt School of
Music, where I earned my bachelor's degree in Musical Theatre. While
at Hartt, I dabbled in songwriting with other students, which gave me
a new appreciation for the work of composers and lyricists.
After graduation,
I pounded the pavement in New York City with countless other hopefuls,
landing work in a variety of venues including an Off-Broadway showcase,
regional theatre, dinner theatre, summer stock, cruise ship and theme
park, as well as film, television and commercials.
But I always knew
I wanted to be part of something bigger than just me, and that I didn't
want to tell the same boy-meets-girl story for the rest of my life.
Enter Mark Durstewitz, courtesy of a mutual friend. Here was a guy who
had a story to tell, a story people could really connect with. A story
of our time. He gave me a cassette with a few rough mixes and a working
libretto. I was taken aback by Mark's honesty and originality, but this
was a work in progress, not performance-ready by a long shot. I hesitated
to get involved for fear it would derail my career plans. But this project
had tremendous potential. In my heart I knew that if I didn't get involved,
I'd be doing tried-and-true stock musical theatre revivals until some
innovator came along with fresh material. Or I could collaborate with
that innovator. I took the plunge.
The Children
of Children, our first rock opera, began to take shape. We spent
several years writing, re-writing, arranging, re-arranging, building
a band, amassing recording equipment, securing a space, rehearsing,
recording and re-recording. We founded MadElf Productions, Inc. as our
independent label. Once the CD was mixed, mastered and duplicated, the
search for a performance venue ensued. We mounted the first production
out of our own pockets, wearing multiple hats due to budgetary limitations
such as "we have no budget!" It was quite an accomplishment.
But we knew we would need access to funding in order to get to the next
level. We approached a number of prospects and found that their funds
were available only to not-for-profit companies.
Hence, Rock Theatre
Productions, Inc. was born. Of course, it's never as simple as that,
but thanks to a friend with a connection, the paperwork was handled
for us while we researched potential funders. Many hours in the Foundation
Center yielded a list of foundations whose interests aligned with ours.
We made a calendar of submission due dates and materials, then formulated
grant proposals by way of a tutorial on the internet. God bless the
web! Now we could finance live performances without breaking the bank,
and focus on the next project as well. Story ideas had been accumulating
throughout our first project, and we were anxious to crank them out.
The first wave of
grant proposals went out shortly before 9/11. Yes, '01. Spending on
the arts came to a grinding halt. It was a crushing blow. But persistence
had served us well throughout all the challenges of bringing The
Children of Children from concept to audience, so we forged ahead.
We continued writing and recording Remembrance while seeking
opportunities to self-produce or co-produce live performances of The
Children of Children. We were ripped off by two promoters in the
process. After two years of MadElf funding Rock Theatre (mind you, we
were funding MadElf), we decided to let Rock Theatre go dormant. Once
we closed the bank account, our first - and only - contribution arrived:
$25, which had to be returned. That was a sad day indeed.
By this time, I'd
played one role five times in ten years - and I pay to play! If I didn't
enjoy the creative process so much, I'd surely have jumped out a window
(admittedly, another deterrent is living on the first floor). It was
time to branch out and expand my horizons while continuing to write,
record and perform our original material. Alongside my voice lessons
and dance classes, I enrolled in a new acting class and joined two local
theatre companies. And I still haven't quit my day job, because I have
to support my habit somehow. Turns out this move was a turning point.
Turning points are always frightening, because you don't know they're
turning points until they're behind you. But revisiting my musical theatre
roots turned out to be just that. I found a very supportive community
of artists, and even an introduction to a fundraiser (through my day
job, of all places)! With her assistance, Rock Theatre has been revived
and we are on the threshold of bringing our stories to the public.
I'm glad to have become part of this creative team and a storyteller as well as a performer. I have high hopes for Rock Theatre to shake the foundations of the stale, predictable formula we know as musical theatre and pave the way for the next generation of storytellers.