Lea Salonga

Cats Credits
Aus/Asia Tour (Manila) - 07/2010 - 08/2010 - Grizabella

Interview (2016)
Diva Talk: 8 Grizabellas, Including Betty Buckley and Elaine Paige, Share Their "Memory"s - Playbill.com, Sept 2016.

Tony winner Salonga played the role in 2010 in Manila as part of the show’s Asian tour.

How long did it take you to get into full Grizabella makeup each night? LS: I didn’t have a lot of time to actually get into Griz makeup from my ensemble makeup. In this production, Griz had to dance the “Jellicle Ball“ as part of the ensemble, which means a super-short prep time to get into the iconic Griz getup.

What is the pressure/challenge like of having to deliver “Memory,” the vocally demanding song everyone waits for all evening? LS: It’s worse than anything!!! It’s much easier being onstage for a longer period of time. Waiting for the entire second act for that one song meant staying warm while the rest of the show was happening. Tough. So tough.

Was there any one performance of “Memory” that stands out in your mind as your best ever? LS: Maybe the first time I got the song right?! It took my voice about two weeks to really fit into that score. And once I got it, I was able to be consistent with it.

What was the most memorable onstage Cats mishap—either your own or by a fellow cast member? LS: I don’t really remember anything that stands out. But one thing I do recall is at the end of the first act, after all the cats have finished dancing this really demanding number, everyone laid out on the floor, breathing heavily, exhausted. One thing is for sure: Those swings will be on all the bleeping time!

Why do you think the musical has endured? LS: Who doesn’t like seeing a bunch of incredible dancers (who can also act and sing) pretend to be cats?!? It’s fun!!! It’s a testament to the music, design, direction and choreography.

What version of “Memory”—other than your own—do you admire? LS: Betty Buckley’s for sure. Hers was the first one I saw on TV and, man, I couldn’t take my eyes off the screen. Wow.

Cats Blog (2010)
Lea blogged about her 2010 run in Cats for the Philippine Daily Inquirer.

No rest for felinity
By Lea Salonga, Philippine Daily Inquirer, 14 July 2010

MELBOURNE – I arrived in this lovely Aussie city on Monday morning at 6:30, got out of the airport at 7:30, reached the hotel at around 8:00 … and headed to rehearsal for “Cats” at 9:30. No rest for felinity!

But in all seriousness, I have been looking forward to this for weeks.

The whole time I rehearsed in Sydney, it was only with the new company, or by myself with the creative team. There would be a maximum of nine actors, which meant we were able to spread out in the rehearsal room.

Now we’re close to 30 bodies in a clump that lives, breathes and moves. It was quite amazing to be within that said clump, moving with the group’s energy.

But that is getting ahead of the story.

I left Manila on Sunday evening on a PAL flight (PAL is the official airline of “Cats”). My seat was very comfortable, and my seat mates were lovely.

Before settling in for some sleep I watched an episode of “How I Met Your Mother” (about taking a leap of faith, literally), and the animated feature “How to Train Your Dragon” (about taking a leap of faith, figuratively). Interesting how these two films are about taking some sort of plunge and throwing caution to the wind.

In a similar vein, that seemed to be the theme of the entertainment I found myself watching this past week.

A few days prior, I attended the preview performance of Repertory Philippines’ “Equus,” starring Miguel Faustmann and a theater newcomer, Marco Mañalac (he and Red Concepcion alternate in the role of Alan Strang, played by Daniel Radcliffe in the West End and Broadway productions).

I must commend Mr. Mañalac for his bravery in taking on this behemoth of a role in his debut performance. Not only is the role (as well as the play) filled with many, many words and an intimidating, undulating emotional arc – it also requires prolonged, full frontal nudity. This is something that many actors have trouble with, yours truly included. I’ll be honest, it isn’t something I could do. Sure I’ve shown my bare back and a lot of legs, but that’s as far as I’ve gone, and am willing to go.

I shouldn’t have been worried for the young Marco though. The staging and lighting were so beautifully done (kudos to director Audie Gemora and lighting designer John Batalla) that the nude scene was not in any way pornographic. If anything, it highlighted the vulnerability of this disturbed and pained young man. Both Marco and his scene partner, the ever lovely and wonderful Pheona Baranda, were treated with only the utmost respect.

Reviews for the show should now be streaming in, and as they do, allow me to say this: anyone who dares describe that scene as lascivious in any way is a moron.

Congratulations to everyone in the cast and crew. Yes, there were but a few kinks here and there, but that’s just a preview. Reports came in that on opening night, it was a much improved performance. Bravo to you all!

Precision is key

Back to Melbourne. There are more than a few instances in the show that precision is key to the choreography and safety of the performers on stage. Feet and arms need to be placed in such a manner that you don’t step on the actor behind you or, God forbid, contribute to a serious injury.

Jo-Anne Robinson and her crew demand nothing short of great discipline from everyone to keep us all safe. It can range from making room for a pair of tumbling cats, to letting someone subtly know you’re ready to catch them when they fall, to being so self-aware that you don’t stab someone with an oversized fork.

These next few days are crucial to integrating the established cast with the rookies. We need to space ourselves in the rehearsal room before the technical period begins, to work out kinks and anticipate possible problems.

It’s an old cast member getting used to someone taller stepping into a role previously played by someone shorter. It’s about having two tumblers instead of just one. It’s about switching places, dancing in our show shoes, and establishing new relationships as well as reinforcing old ones.

Its mornings full of improvisational work, ballet barre and warm ups, and days ending feeling tired, but happy.

Once all these things are locked into everyone’s heads, it’ll be time to get on stage and perform, keeping the faith that everything will be all right.

Eight shows a week, we will all be leaping together. Literally, and figuratively.

Shameless plug

On July 23, Asian Hospital Charities, the charity arm of Asian Hospital and Medical Center, will be presenting a special performance of “Cats.” For tickets, you may visit the ticket booth located at the lower ground floor of Asian Hospital, or call Nila Chua at the Asian Hospital Charities office at 7719000 local 8202.

A day in the life of the Glamour Cat
By Lea Salonga, Philippine Daily Inquirer, July 28, 2010

Allow me to give you a glimpse of what goes on for me backstage (First of two parts)

MANILA, Philippines—I was once told that the role of Grizabella was a "pretty easy gig." On the surface, it would seem so: Around 12 minutes onstage, only one big aria to sing at the end, and that’s it. Uhhh, no.

Preparing for that big song takes as much preparation (in this case, even more so) as a larger singing role. I arrive at the same time as everyone else, and leave at show’s end.

Normally, I arrive at a theater around 90 minutes before a performance to vocally warm up and get ready. For "Cats," I am a bit more … involved. Allow me to give you a glimpse of what goes on for me backstage. Let’s say today is a normal show day—no rehearsals, spacing calls or note sessions. I’m not needed till around 6 p.m.

I leave home at about 4:30 p.m. (traffic from the south can be quite unpredictable, no matter what time of day). On a good day, it takes me around 40 minutes to get to the theater ... on an awful day, as long as two hours. Lateness to the theater really bugs me, especially when it’s me that’s late.

Prep time

At 6 p.m., optional ballet barre begins with Sharyn Winney, resident director and choreographer. I opt not to join … this is when I start putting my makeup on. I start with a base of light grey all over my face, then a strip of white on my nose, muzzle and middle of my neck. Next, shadings of darker grey and brown on my forehead, cheeks and the sides of my neck, effectively contouring my features. Then, defining lines in black, highlighted by white or grey, whisker dots, deeper eye sockets and more markings. I'm usually done with at least half of it by 6:15, when the cast is called for another optional warm-up. Markham Gannon, associate resident choreographer, or Adrian Ricks,dance captain and Mr. Mistofolees, leads this session. The music is usually pretty funky. Cast members who come down are in various stages of getting ready … some have full makeup on, others have only the shading, while a few haven’t even begun.

At 6:30, either Paul White, musical director, or Sean Tait, associate musical director, leads the full- company vocal warm-up. A few are still doing stretches or jogging around backstage while singing. After this, everyone heads back to the dressing room.

At 7 p.m., Zoe Allardice, another stage manager, announces the one-hour call—one hour left until the top of the show. By this time, my makeup is done. Sheilla Habab, my dresser, has everything laid out: My awesome unitard, flat dance shoes, leg warmers, arm warmers, underwear and my tail. I get my wig prep done: Five pin curls in strategic spots on my forehead, temples and back of the neck, plus a stocking cap and even more pins to secure everything, making sure that, when my wig and microphone are pinned to me, nothing slips off.

Half-hour call

I head up to the second-floor dressing area, where Alison and Joy from the sound department are starting to hand out radio mics. I sit in a chair as one of them pins the mic on my stocking cap. Then I go to Sharon Case (hair and makeup) to get my first wig put on. I return to the sound people for a final mic placement check.

I run down to my room to take that very important bathroom break before putting on my unitard. One thing I've learned: Going to the bathroom after sweating in that thing is close to impossible. If anyone remembers that “Friends” episode where Ross is in leather pants, the situation is somewhat similar. Without the baby powder.

Five minutes

Once completely dressed, I get a few stretches in to make sure I'm limber and warm. I grab a few seconds on the wobble cushion to strengthen my right ankle (I sprained it a week ago on some covered cables). Afterward, I go for my radio mic check. The sound guys give us a theme for this sound check, thus we have to sing something that fits it. Quite fun listening to what everyone comes up with.

Green eyes

At this point, the cast each grabs a pair of "green eyes" and heads to their starting positions all over the theater. We enter from the back of the house (including the balconies) and flash our "eyes" at certain members of the audience during the overture. We’ve freaked out a few people by doing this, which has made it fun. I won't tell you where I'm coming from or where I'll be. Let the show begin!

By the way...

Thank you to poet Pete Lacaba for your wonderful contribution to the Manila production of "Cats." Maraming, maraming salamat sa natagpuang ligaya, dahil sa iyong liwanag.

Shameless plug

On our day off, a few of us from “Cats” went to watch a rehearsal of “Master Class,” starring one of our best actresses, Cherie Gil. It may as well have been a performance. She was absolutely incandescent as Maria Callas. Brava, La Divina and have a fabulous opening night tonight!

“Master Class” is presented by the Philippine Opera Company, and will play on July 29, 30, 31, August 6, 7, 8, 12, 13, 14 and 15. Thursday, Friday, and Saturday performances are at 8 p.m.; Sunday shows at 3:30 p.m. Call 8928796 or 8919999.

Glamour Cat, part 2
By Lea Salonga, Philippine Daily Inquirer, August 4, 2010

MANILA, Philippines—When I last left you, the show was about to begin with everyone toting a pair of "green eyes" and heading to their beginners' places—the various entrances to the orchestra, boxes and balconies of the CCP.

A few times, we've encountered members of the audience who haven't yet made it to their seats. During our first public performance, I was walking “human-like” with a few other cats when we saw a couple of latecomers.

I had a classic "deer in headlights" moment and had no idea what to do. Alonzo (Glen Oliver), one of the older members of the company, immediately sprang into character. I followed his lead, adopting a more "feline" posture.

I was once exposed on the way to my "green eyes" spot. Thankfully, Munkustrap (Shaun Rennie) and the twins (Brian Gillespie and Zoe Komazec) were there.

At a particular moment, the back doors open, and the cats stream into the theater, flashing “green eyes” at members of the audience. I've gotten a "Oh, hello!" and an "Eeeeek!"—which makes me feel good. Once in the backstage area, I place my eyes back on the table, take a big gulp of water, and head to my official starting position in the trunk of the car. Yes, I do dance in the opening number. Actually, all the actors in the show do.

"Jellicle Songs for Jellicle Cats" lasts for about seven minutes, at which point sweat is streaming down everyone's faces (thanks to the yak hair wigs, full-body unitards, woolen leg and arm warmers, and the CCP's less-than-ideal air-conditioning).

Once "The Naming of Cats" is over, I run back to my dressing room to get ready to play Griz. The warmers, first wig and flat shoes are replaced by a mop of gray curls, streams of black tears, smeared red lipstick, way too much blush, frown lines, a matted fur coat, uneven stockings, a black flapper dress and gloves with dark red fingernails. I look a fright! But I have lovely company at this time—Old Deuteronomy (John Ellis) makes his own transformation here, too.

"The Jennyanydots" tap section is just about finished, and "The Rum Tum Tugger" is about to begin. I head over to stage right. My time on stage for "Remark" isn't very long, but it's packed with split-second moments of humiliation with a few members of the cast. Much of it is spent with Munkustrap. Yeah, Griz and Munk kind of have "history."

I head offstage through the audience. Once out of sight, I take off my gloves and coat and sit on my dressing room couch for a minute. I'm now drenched in sweat and Sheilla wraps me in a towel. My next entrance isn’t until many more minutes into the show.

I spend much of this idle time watching the mayhem in the wardrobe crossover or conversing with someone from the cast or crew. Griz is an isolated character, I wanted my backstage time to be more social.

My next appearance is on a piece of scenery known as "Pride Rock" some 20 feet above the stage. It's quite safe up there, and I've come to feel secure upon it.

More humiliation

At the end of the ball, I reenter the stage to endure more humiliation before being left alone to sing “Memory, Act I.” When I exit, I see bodies all over the floor, catching some valuable rest. Unitards are now half-off, water and electrolytes are being consumed, and a few dancers have congregated around an electric fan.

I have two more appearances to make: "Moments of Happiness" (back on "Pride Rock") and the big 11 o'clock number, "Memory." I love being perched atop "Pride Rock" for the beginning of Act II; it gives me a great view of Sillabub (Alyse Davies) as she sings Pete Lacaba's verse of "Memory" which goes as follows:

Liwanag, harapin ang liwanag Ang iyong ala-ala ang gabay na sundin Sa liwanag, ligaya ay matatagpuan Bagong buhay ay darating This is met with thunderous applause.

I head to my dressing room to warm up for "Memory." I do some scales, drink some water and belt out the words "Toouuuch meee"... Funny, my friend Peter Saide's voice pops in my mind whenever I play head games with myself ... "It's all in your head ..." it says. It keeps things in perspective and my feet on the ground.

I time my final bathroom break for when "Skimbleshanks" is performed by associate resident director/choreographer Markham Gannon. My unitard is dry enough now; it's no longer a battle to go to the potty. I take a few more sips of water, and wait to sing.

Unnerving

I hear Munkustrap recite the last few lines of poetry. It's time to get out there and sing. The song goes by quite quickly and for the most part, uneventfully. It is at times shaky and unsteady, at other times more confident. Perhaps I should wish for it to never ever be perfect, to always have a knot somewhere, like a Lebanese carpet. It's unnerving when I fear a crack in my vocal line. But then again, given the role I have to play, a crack just might be what I need, as long as I’m telling a truthful and honest story.

Finally, the song is over. The receiving line is formed, and I head up the tire with Old Deut. Once the tire is at its highest point, I board a sparkly pod that then takes me to a "catwalk" high above the stage. Our head electrician Shane meets me up there. I take off my coat, gloves and heels, put on a pair of climbing gloves and black sneakers, take a sip of water and start my climb down from "The Heaviside Layer" back to earth.

What a night, and I get to do this eight times a week!

Insanely gifted unsung heroes
By Lea Salonga, Philippine Daily Inquirer, August 11, 2010

MANILA, Philippines—I don't think I've ever written about the unsung heroes of any long-running musical theater production—some of the most intelligent, quick-thinking, insanely gifted individuals to ever be part of a cast. I’m talking about the understudy and the swing.

The understudy

When speaking of the understudy, the film "All About Eve" probably comes to mind. I personally have not seen it, but I do have some idea of its plot: the tale of the manipulative standby waiting in the wings for her moment of truth, putting into practice some evildoings that would make even Lucifer blush.

Thankfully, I've been fortunate that no one (or none that I know of) has stabbed me in the back yet.

It's quite tough to be an understudy. Many of them know that they are not the performer that an audience has come to see, and are greeted at times with disappointment.

However, when I do hear that an understudy is about to go on in a show that I'm about to see, I get very excited and giddy for a number of reasons: One, it might be a good friend who's about to step onstage; two, I had already seen the regular performer and want to see something or someone different; or three, the understudy is reportedly far better than the one on the marquee, hence my piqued curiosity.

In a long run, two or even three understudies are readied by the resident director, just in case something should happen to the regular performer (in "Miss Saigon," my alternate was also my understudy, and there were two or three more ladies who were ready and able as well).

In "Les Misérables," there was a regular Valjean, and two understudy Valjeans. An understudy also serves the purpose of being assigned to rehearse with an incoming company member, along with the male and female swing who’d play each and every role required for that rehearsal.

The swing

Now here is a company member who does not ever get paid enough for the blood, sweat and tears they invest in learning what they need to for a production.

The swing has the daunting task of learning each and every ensemble track that exists in a show. Depending on how large a show's cast is, as well as the physical and vocal demand placed upon it, there can be two male and two female swings per production. They know everyone else’s choreography, stage placement, vocal harmony, costume plots, makeup, and hairstyle.

Our lone Broadway "Saigon" female swing, the inimitable Sylvia Dohi, covered the 10 ladies' ensemble tracks and at times, even a few of the men's. She knew which actor was where, which made her indispensable. Sylvia was nothing short of amazing.

We had three male swings for that show's original company: two to cover the Americans (Todd Zamarippa and Henry Menendez) and one to cover the Asians (Marc Oka, who was also our dance captain).

At one rehearsal, Henry, without even one bit of practice, had to step in for another actor in the "American Dream" number. He expressed how nervous he was to be thrown in so suddenly, but once in the lineup, he was perfection. He knew the choreography, down to what angle his arms needed to be in. My jaw was on the floor. I was really impressed.

For "Cats," the revolving door of understudies and swings has been turning since our first few performances. Due to dehydration, gastrointestinal distress, sprained ankles, aching backs, and other illnesses, there would be an actor or two who would have to exit the show in the middle of a number or right after the first act.

Sharyn Winney and Markham Gannon, our fearless leaders in Manila, would then figure out which actor to place in which spot to cover up holes, at times covering up the holes themselves, literally. Markham has stepped in to play Skimbleshanks (the railway cat) when Darren Tyler fell ill, and Sharyn has had to quickly don a unitard and slap on some makeup to play Cassandra (our furless female) when our regular gal, Emma Clark, sprained her ankle during one number.

One of our youngest cast members, 17-year-old Sophie Shanks, has played three roles so far: Electra (her regular onstage swing track), Victoria (the white cat), and Tantomile (one eerie twin).

James Cooper, one of our male swings, has played George (his own track), Macavity (the Napoleon of crime), Alonzo (the arrogant one), and Coricopat (the other eerie twin).

Melina Charles (Olivia) has played Jennyanydots (with matching tap dancing) while Erin James, our regular Jenny, has thus far played Jellylorum (the soprano cat) and Rumpleteaser (female petty thief). Glen Oliver (Alonzo) has stepped in for Skimbleshanks, and Stephanie Silcock (Victoria) has gone on for Cassandra.

Yes, the show must go on, and it does in large part due to the incredible talents of understudies and swings.

The end of the run
By Lea Salonga, Philippine Daily Inquirer, 18 August 2010

MANILA, Philippines—My Facebook status update last weekend: “Only eight more ‘Cats’ to go! Waaaaaaaaaaaah!” My brother, the smart aleck and corny joke expert, quipped, “Don’t you mean eight more lives? Har har har!”

The end of any run, regardless of length, is always emotional, oftentimes lachrymose. This final week of “Cats” is most assuredly no exception, especially for those leaving this current Asian tour. Five of us are saying goodbye on Aug. 22—Shaun Rennie, Alyse Davies, Michael-John Hurney, Lisa-Marie Parker and me. The company heads to Taiwan for 15 performances (with different and/or new cast members) before the junkyard is put away for a long hiatus.

Bittersweet

The occasion is often bittersweet. On the one hand, the eight-show weekly grind (especially the grueling five-show weekend) will be over. On the other, it means bidding farewell to people you’ve grown to love during the run (for many in the cast, this means two, three, even four years). It’s the uncertainty of finding one another again, and whether these seemingly solid friendships survive, or if you’ll find another opportunity to work in a show as special as this.

As I say goodbye to a musical that went from one I never thought I’d do, to one that profoundly changed me as a human being, allow me to list some things I’ll miss about “Cats.”

1) Daily ballet barre with Sharyn. There are days when even the simplest plie feels like hell on earth, not to mention that I still can’t pirouette properly. That said, warming up in the various ballet positions with my hand on that horizontal rod transports me back to being a little kid in leotard, tights and ballet shoes. Many of the basics have thankfully remained in my system. (Thank you, Maniya Barredo, for existing, which sent most of us cousins and nieces of yours to dance classes.) I wonder if my old tutus would fit Nicole. Probably not; I was a pretty chubby child.

2) Green eyes. I don’t see how anyone wouldn’t find this exciting. I was as giddy as a kid on the first day of school when I first put them on over my basic cat wig. It hasn’t lost its initial charm; I look forward to rushing from the back of the house during the overture, hoping to freak out unsuspecting audience members.

3) Dancing. Only my closest friends and colleagues with a sharp ear for my voice have found me in the opening number. By the end of this seven-minute wonder, sweat is pouring down my face and drenching my unitard…my heart is racing and I can barely breathe…it is totally awesome. I can’t contain my joy at having completed it, though it’s nothing compared to what the rest of the company have to accomplish.

4) “Memory”. To be honest, I gave a few questionable performances of the song in the first two weeks of the run. Though I would warm up just after intermission for this pivotal moment, "Touch me" was a hit-or-miss...until one fine night when, in a moment of good-natured tomfoolery backstage with a few of

the other guys, we started singing songs from “Miss Saigon.” “Memory” sits in the same keys and vocal place that I once sang in and used for “Saigon,” but up until this night it didn’t dawn on me to use that show to vocally wake things up. I started singing some lines from two emotional (read: loud) moments of that show…I felt my muscles wake up. That night was the first time I was actually happy with “Memory,” and “Touch me” hasn’t given me any trouble since. Singing it for the last time will most certainly hit me hard.

5) The cast and crew. This very special cast, 29 different personalities, many of them almost mirroring their feline counterparts, hit the stage every night, while even more crew members keep it running. I will miss their humor, laughter, wisdom, outrageousness, talent, work ethic, and single-minded focus and passion in putting this show up on its feet night after night. They are all beautiful.

Thank you, “Cats,” for coming into my life.

Fabulous feline partay

The most fabulous woman on earth, Tessa Prieto-Valdes, threw “Cats” a party that none of us will soon forget. Just think: Many of the guests dressed in animal prints (except for us who actually have to be animals for most of the week)…pole dancing…fire-juggling (if that’s what it’s called)…free massages…amazing food…tons of Filipino hospitality. Sighted were super stylists Jenni Epperson and Ferdi Salvador, Hello Kitty maven Virgie Ramos (how appropriate!), doc to the stars Vicki Belo and her companion Hayden Kho, artist manager Girlie Rodis, Tatler head Anton San Diego, and Tessa’s friends and family.

Thanks, Tessa, for welcoming us into your lovely home! You are indeed amazing! The “Cats” cast and crew will never forget you.