Shrek Diary: Banter In The Basement

Dear Shrek Diary,

As I sat noodling through a couple pre-show Sudoku puzzles in the theater's basement I realized one of the things I enjoy the most about this show.

Ramsey Hendricks is a storyteller for the ages, with his vast knowledge of musicals and experiences high, low, and ever comical with theater troupes. With roommates Bree Dawson, Ryan Groves and Matthew Henry filling in the gaps and amping the volume, energy is ringing off the walls as a number of us sit in a circle-square arrangement on Community Player's old blue-cushioned seats.

Also round the campfire (in this case a table with an assortment of rapidly-aging snacks and discarded costume pieces) are Kellie and Linsday Nolan, fountains of sweetness and laughter who are masters of the quick change and graceful in tap shoes.

Katie Grogg, the perfect Cinderella, final member of Kellie and Lindsay's three blind mice trio, and matchless voice of the exploding bluebird, walks in and finds a patch of blue to call her own.

There's Joey Knotts, rocking the clean-shaven guard look and taking in the conversation studiously. Hunter Kisandi's my basketball buddy, a tricky find in a theater company, as we dissect the NBA's summer trades and rate the Bulls' chances for 2014-15.

Lauren Guttschow's among the many checking her phone while keeping an ear to the chatter and adding her own observations. Her incredible hand-drawn art is part of the interior decoration of the circle. She threw our legendary cast party last night, complete with jukebox, fog machine and laser lights.

Kelsey Holliday is sitting cross-legged on the floor, chiming in with her own tales occasionally, always with that just-about-to-laugh smile on her face.

Rejene Phillips oversees my Sudoku and fuels the fire with pointed comments to others in the room, always "Mr." or "Ms." in her politely charming way.

Melea Hauck, child prodigy and the daughter every mother wishes she had, bounds in and out of the room making friends instantly. She looks you right in the eye and says whatever adorable thing is on her mind.

Rosie Hauck, who can claim Malea legitimately, meticulously applies the many excellent makeup features that will transform her into a hideous apple-wielding old hag. She goes about her day humbly but has a lot of impressive things going on in her life that make her a quiet role model.

Jake Rathman squeezes into the mix armed with his mortar-shell sized can of Red Bull, enough to power himself and the surrounding block for the next few hours.

Fifteen minutes to curtain, Alan Wilson huddles up the cast for some notes. The architect of all things hilarious and precise in this show, he's earned a rightful rest and un-abating respect of us all.

It's a feast for the eyes and the soul, this laid-back festive atmosphere in the half-hour before we play to another sold-out audience. Theater has this element of come-as-you-are, say-what-you-think camaraderie to it that's rare outside its walls. In the end I have to hustle upstairs to get into costume before my entrance, not only because of my (ultimately successful) quest to complete my second puzzle, but just as well for the chance to spend as much time around this cast as possible.