We had our first performance of “Little Shop” on Thursday night and, to paraphrase one of my dearest mentors, the show is now soup – all of the humble ingredients have been put together, simmered, congealed, and magically transformed into a whole greater than its parts.  And, as with all good soups, it only gets better with time.  Our Friday night performance was, by far, our best, and I am confident the flavors of our production will deepen with time.

As with all productions, the final push was beset with challenges, both the garden variety and the extraordinary.  Doing a large scale musical in the cloud forest, many hours from well stocked hardware stores, lumber yards and other theaters to provide assistance when needed, created some unique obstacles, but all were overcome through ingenuity and hard work.  Indeed, I’ve come to love this problem solving aspect of production.  The Spanish word for “jigsaw puzzle” is “rompecabezas” – literally broken heads – which has become my new favorite metaphor for the week before a show, not only for the obvious jigsaw angle, but because, literally, lots of heads collide, some break, temporarily, but in the end, unlike Humpty Dumpty, all is put together again for the sake of art.

Three quick portraits to give the flavor of our final push:

First off, the teenagers in our cast have been wonderful.  They are bright, talented, uncommonly patient and kind for their ages.  As I mentioned, we faced numerous unforeseen challenges due to our location and lack of easy access to resources causing countless delays, scheduling changes and tension.  The cast took it all in stride, maintained a positive attitude and boundless energy.  They have been rewarded with, in my estimation, a fine production and the thunderous applause of appreciative crowds.

Second, our core group of volunteers deserves a round of applause.  It was all hands on deck for ten days with each person stepping outside of her personal comfort zone to complete the work necessary to realize Thursday’s opening.  Whether the job was painting the stage floor on hands and knees, lugging borrowed chairs from the local church to the performance space or contacting local eateries in broken Spanish to secure meals for our visiting musicians, this group of, mostly, young people did a hell of a job.

Finally, there is Alberto Guindon, our de facto technical director.  Alberto is the step grandfather of cast member Jaden Eckel, and a fixture in the Monteverde Community.  Initially, Alberto agreed to lend a hand with constructing our stage and set, but turned out donating his entire being.  He not only drew up the plans for the stage and set, he ordered the wood, set up a shop area next to the performance space and worked tirelessly for a week doing all the tasks, large and small, necessary to realizing the physical production.  Then, as a coda to the untold physical labor, he used his considerable connections in the community to find us a much needed sound system.  At last night’s show he was – and I am not exaggerating – selling brownies at intermission with his lovely wife, Angelina.  Alberto’s contributions cannot be overstated and I only hope he has enjoyed his participation as much as we have appreciated having him.

As the theater director of “Little Shop,” I am finished.  The show now belongs to the cast and crew for it to become even better soup.  Due to other obligations, I have to pack my bags and return home on Sunday morning.  Of course, I am excited to see my wife, dog, and friends back home, but as I board the plane for San Diego I am going to be thinking about all the good people and lovely community I’m leaving behind.  From my warm, loving host family, to my friends at The Common Cup, the cast and my colleagues at Far Corners, to the pick-up truck taxi driver who waves to me every morning he passes, I’ll be thinking about them all.  Monteverde is known for its natural beauty, but it is the beauty of its people which I will always remember.

-Scott Feldsher