RCT's The Little Mermaid, Jr. Helps 45 Kids Find Their Voice
The Little Mermaid is a story about the inherent power of a single voice, and there is no more appropriate demographic to tell this story than children - after all, for two years, they’ve been silenced, relegated to their rooms, forced in front of screens. The lucky ones with conscientious parents had learning pods, but the others were alone until school resumed, where they sat six feet apart with their faces covered. We’re now, predictably, experiencing one of the worst childhood mental health crises in history.
Community theater is engaged in a battle of its own. Riverdale Children’s Theatre, a 501c-3 nonprofit and second home for hundreds of kids, was among the first businesses to be impacted by government lockdowns in early 2020. Now, post-COVID, there are only 3 or 4 similar venues left in the Bronx, a borough of roughly 1.5 million people.
Theater co-owners Derek and Becky Woods credit the Shuttered Venue Operators Grant and their community members for keeping their doors open. “In true community spirit, the Riverdale Steak House opened their party room for us,” Woods said in an interview with the Riverdale Press. “The college of Mount Saint Vincent and Christ Church Riverdale actually stepped up early.” Their story was featured on CNN’s Champion’s for Change.
While fighting for the venue, Derek, Becky and the RCT staff also fought for their kids by hosting masked singer nights, production screenings, and dance challenges. “They taught Broadway Zoom classes,” said Little Mermaid mom Jen Laurie, “that kept my daughter, and other kids genuinely interested in theater, engaged.” Even then, as they were operating on a quarter of their projected revenue from tuition and ticket sales, no child was turned away for financial reasons.
All of this makes their return to the stage all the more triumphant.
“My curtain speech was certainly more “emphatic” than usual,” Mr. Woods admitted to me later about opening night. “I noticed kids weren't getting any standing ovations, which brought out the Bronx in me….after all they’ve been through, they deserve it.”
He bounded onstage Thursday evening with an enthusiasm unknown to mankind. “This is how we build back,” he said of memories and experiences lost to COVID. “These shows build a kid into what they’ll be: firemen, sanitation workers, lawyers, doctors.”
“Thank you for being people who believe that the arts are important for kids,” he continued. And then, after a sports-caster style introduction and eruption of cheers, they were off. Forty-five children of every religious and ethnic background flooded the stage.
The show was shockingly good. Budding talent Keilah Clarke, who played Ariel and had never done a full scale production, carried the show with sparkle and grace. Prince Eric, played by Zia Conte, worked the audience with his easy charm. Also notable were Leo Gorenstein as Grimsby, Brooke Schwartz as the disgruntled Sebastian, and exceptional ensemble members Paula Marcano and Kelly Zarnitzky. Choreography by Alexandria Van Paris was simple and clean.
The sets are appropriately flamboyant, built by hand by Kerry Timmons and “Little Mermaid Dads” John Agustyn, Matthew Seeman and Rob Demasi, and are supplemented by creative projections. The costumes by Suzanne Beaubien and Anna Dropeiwska are much the same: light up wings and tentacles, sequins, bright colored onesies and heely sneakers. All of these elements were brought together concisely by director Becky Lillie Woods.
There was joy in every little thing: In the kid kicking the back of my seat. In seeing the maskless faces of your fellow audience members and tears of pride wiped from bare cheeks. In the not so subtle on-stage audience scan for mom and dad, the insuppressible firework smile when finally (whew!) they’re found. In the suspense of a missed entrance, in the chaos of the group number. In kids working hard and being seen. In watching a child find her voice.
Image: Riverdale Children’s Theatre