The Process of Ted - An Interview with Ted Bigornia

By day, Ted Bigornia is a commercial closer and escrow officer for a large title insurance company. But by Nightingale showtime hours, he is charismatic and hilarious in his role as Bing Wen, and pulls off the Herculean task of leading two of the heftiest numbers in the show. He has also worked as a pianist and music director for theatre productions. Ted shares about his path to and experiences on the stage, as well as what it's like to play the Emperor’s Lord-in-Waiting and the Palace Aesthetician.

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MIN: Describe your performance background. How did you get involved with theatre?

TED: I first became involved in theatre as a piano accompanist for a children’s theatre company in Vallejo during my senior year in high school. Around the same time, I was cast in the ensemble of my high school’s production of Oklahoma!, which was my first time on stage.  I remained with the children’s theatre (which also incorporated adult students as “guest” artists) as both accompanist and performer – primarily in the ensemble or in character roles, working on productions in Vallejo, Napa, Sacramento and Fairfield, for three or four years.  That was my start.  I enjoyed it so much, I’ve been doing it off-and-on ever since. Lately, I have been exploring opportunities to work on the acting side of it more and more, having taken roles in non-musical plays as well.

M: You have also worked as a music director for theatre productions. What do you enjoy about working as a music director?

T: I really enjoy working with singers of various experience levels, and helping to bring out their best.  I also particularly enjoy working with chorus/ensemble sections. This involves a creativity in part breakdowns and dynamics and tempo variety, and is rewarding every time, both in terms of entertainment value of whatever piece I’m working on, as well as in terms of pride of the singers.  I LOVE to see singers feel great pride in their accomplishments, and encourage it. On the instrumental side of things, the challenge is always getting the best sound possible out of a very small combo, deciding what instruments to use given budgetary and availability constraints; this part of it can be stressful, but also very rewarding.

M: Are there any insights you've gained from working as a music director that informs your work as an actor?

T: Yes – very often, I learn just as much from the singers I work with as a musical director as vice versa.  You get an objective perspective on the process, and I have a better understanding of why musical directors I’ve worked with will experiment with part assignments, word pronunciations, dynamics and the like.  When you are singing, whether solo, or with a group, you can NOT really get the full perspective of the effects of what you are doing.

M: What has working on The Song of the Nightingale been like for you?

T: This has been the experience of a life-time.  From the staged reading three years ago, through this current run, I have enjoyed taking on material that is new, that has no existing history of production performance by anyone else.  Kind of forces you to bring your own interpretation to everything.  The material is wonderful, the message is positive and simply “feel-good” kind of stuff, which seems rare in newer shows these days.  Also, it truly isn’t often that you get to work with a group that has this much accumulated talent.  Every single person involved – from the production staff, cast and crew – brings so much value to this production that, altogether, creates a phenomenal experience for me.

M: Describe a little bit about your approach to the character of Bing Wen.

In older iteration of the script, Madam Wu (Alexis Wong) and Bing Wen (Ted Bigornia)  were an item.

T: Three years ago, during rehearsals for the staged reading, I remember a candid conversation we had between some of the cast and yourself, wherein you mentioned that you had earlier thought about creating some kind of relationship between Liu Bing [now named Bing Wen] and Madame Wu – and you got the immediate response from everyone present that it was a bad idea.  Someone went so far as to suggest that Liu Bing HAS to be “fabulous.”  That conversation led me to feel free to try a more flamboyant direction with him.  Cut to the current production and at the first read-through, you explained how this piece was born of your love of Disney films, and that these characters are cartoons and over the top, which led me to decide to take the flamboyance perhaps even a little further and make it rather affected. Is it realistic? Probably not. I do try to bring an over-the-top theatricality to Bing Wen.

M: How is the character similar to you?

T: Bing Wen and I both share a certain pride in our craft, I think.  He is very proud of his designs, and it is important to him what the court members think (this is apparent his great fear of having to present the ugly Nightingale to the court).  I am the same way with performance. When things go well, and when what I do works, then I have great pride in what I do. But I share the same fear of making poor choices and turning in a performance that does not work.  Yes I do have an ego and fully admit it, and we both share a fear of damage to it.

M: How are you different from Bing Wen?

T: I’m not nearly as affectedly flamboyant as what I try to convey in Bing Wen. Outside of yucking it up at a theatre rehearsal, I’m really not that “fabulous.” When I do “turn it on” it’s just that; I do that as a clown.  I also don’t mind being funny, even at my own expense.  I don’t think Bing Wen would ever be comfortable being laughed at. It would hurt him, I think, if he believed anyone were making fun of him.  Bing Wen’s flamboyance is a part of him, and he may not even really consider himself flamboyant, it’s just the way his is.

M: It is actually moving to me that you consider Bing Wen’s feelings. Even with the over-the-top affect, I believe you have brought out an emotional depth to a character that could have been played very two-dimensionally. So, thank you! Anything else you'd like to share?

T: I can’t think of anything further really to say, except to thank you very much for this opportunity to work on this with you.  I know you really didn’t know me when I auditioned for this three years ago, and I think it must have been a bit of a gamble for you to go with me for this role.  But I’m glad you went with it, and continued to keep me a part of it for the purposes of the current production.

Ted, with fellow actors (from left to right) Miyoko Sakatani, Isabel Anne To, Christopher Juan, Lindsay Hirata and Ji-Yun Kim. 

I would like to see your show go even further.  I’d love to be able to see your show, fully backed and fully professional, perhaps in NY or National Tour, perhaps after it has garnered a Tony or two, and be able to say that I was a part of that back when…back when…!

M: I’m very thankful to have you in the cast as well, Ted! Thanks for your well-wishes.

Influence: Alan Menken, King of Melodies

In 1991, I got the soundtrack for Disney's Beauty & the Beast on cassette tape before I had even seen the movie. What I heard on that tape was epic. The opening number "Belle" in particular blew my mind completely with its layered vocals and bright melody. When I finally saw the movie at the theater, I remember getting so excited that "Belle" was beginning that I shouted out "Bonjour! Bonjour!" right along with the 2-D French people on the screen. My mom and sisters had to shush me and tell me that it was not polite to blurt out the words. My love for this film was further solidified when the VHS came out on October 30th the following year, and I opted to skip trick-or-treating just so I could watch Belle, Beast, Gaston, et al three times in a row on Halloween.

I couldn't have told you then what it was about the score for Beauty & the Beast  that I was so taken by. I know now, though, that it was a combination of lyricist Howard Ashman's fantastic use of the English language, and composer Alan Menken's uncanny ability to make melodies that whisk you away into the story. Ashman, unfortunately, was taken from the world way too soon. But Menken continued on to create the memorable scores for Aladdin, Pocahontas, The Hunchback of Notre Dame, and Hercules. Each new Menken-Disney project offered musical compositions that were unique from those of previous films (compare Pocahontas  to Hercules , for example). And yet, they all brought the storytelling power that came to be expected of 90's Disney films. This is why, even as a kid, I was sorely disappointed with the music in The Lion King.  This is not to harp on Elton John's amazing pop sensibilities. But there's just something about a Menken melody that grabs you and says "Listen! Something very important to the story is being sung here!"

Why do Menken's melodies work so well? Two answers. First, I think it's because he knows when to surprise us. Take my favorite Menken tune "Out There" from Hunchback.  The structure is pretty standard for an "I want..." ballad. There isn't anything particularly tricky about the meter or structure or form. But the main melody of the chorus starts off with a descending minor 7th. For those who are less musically inclined, all you need to know is that a descending minor 7th is very rare in songs. Menken harmonizes it so well that you don't realize it's so different, but the subconscious impact remains. This big jump in the melody sounds fresh and expansive, and gives the song its particular character.

Second, Menken's not afraid to keep things simple. The song "Beauty & the Beast" is essentially a series of varying five-note patterns, some of which are overtly scales going up or down (think "Barely even friends / Then somebody bends"). But he chooses his five notes carefully each time, and the little surprises that arise give the song its emotion (think of the difference between "Tale as old as time" and "Song as old as rhyme." Rhyme is the surprise note.) What I also think is so compelling about the song, is that it never overstates itself. Even the climax happens right in the middle, rather than towards the end, where many Broadway numbers like to build. The music stays simple, and doesn't let itself get in its own way. It allows the audience to just take in what's happening - Belle and Beast are falling in love.

While I am forever indebted to Mr. Menken for his musical influence in my life, I will probably never be able to capture the exact quality of a Menken melody. I'll be happy if my songs have a sort of "Min-ken" quality about them. And maybe someday, a parent will have to shush their kid in the audience of one of my shows because the little one just couldn't help but sing along.

The Mundane Path

Recently I was re-introduced to the story of Naaman - a man in the Bible who was seeking healing for his leprosy. Naaman goes to see Elisha, the prophet of the day, who tells him to wash seven times in the Jordan to be healed. Naaman responds with anger, saying "Behold, I thought, ‘He will surely come out to me and stand and call on the name of the Lord his God, and wave his hand over the place and cure the leper.’" He also proceeds to complain about the chosen body of water. Naaman's servants plead with him saying “My father, had the prophet told you to do some great thing, would you not have done it? How much more then, when he says to you, ‘Wash, and be clean’?”

While is passage is specifically about healing, I garnered two observations that were applicable to any process of change or growth.

Often times, the process is not what we expect it will be.  We may have an exact image in our minds of what a certain path in our lives is meant to look like, only to find that we prepared ourselves for the wrong thing. And like Naaman, we can get mad and resist this different process. Or, like Naaman's servants, we can choose to accept this unexpected path. I mean, if the end result is going to be the same - if I am going to be healed or changed or matured using the unexpected path, what's the use in getting angry that it's not happening the way I thought it would?

We often desire a path that is more spectacular than the reality.  Naaman wanted the prophet to wave his hand and make magic happen. But the actual path was less exciting. It involved doing something very mundane, and it would not be instantaneous. Now, I know well that there are spectacular stories happening all over the world! These are the stories that get into papers, shared virally, talked about. But I would guess that for every spectacular story, there are at least one million mundane, everyday life events - again, this is just a guess. Unfortunately, the spectacles get our imaginations flowing and whet our appetite, so we desire life to always be spectacular. But it isn't. Life, growth, healing, change - these things are often achieved through repetitive, day-to-day tasks.

Still, while life isn't always spectacular, I do believe life can always be awe-inspiring - just not in the whiz-bang-pow! way we want it to be. As a storyteller, I often try to convey those spectacular life moments in my work. However, the act of crafting those stories exists in the realm of the repetitive and mundane. Sure, I could wait for that hand of God, that muse, that spark of inspiration to flood my soul and almost coerce me to write. But what are the chances of that? And if the end result could still be that I tell a great story, why get angry that the instant spark doesn't occur? Usually, it's me in front of my laptop or my keyboard, with the laundry in the wash, and the realization that I still have yet to shower that day. Thankfully, I'm not required to bathe seven times like Naaman.

Tales of Two Chinas

I am working on writing two shows set in a mythical ancient China right now - The Song of the Nightingale,  which opens next Friday (!!), and Where the Mountain Meets the Moon , which goes into its second workshop come November. I am proud to say that even though the backdrop of these shows could be categorized as the same, they are both very different shows - particularly in their musical styles.

 The Song of the Nightingale  is a sort of homage to the musical theatre composers who came before me. I call it a patchwork of pastiche. Each musical number is a nod to some other composer's or show's style. Nightingale has everything from sweeping ballads to jazzy show-stoppers to rock-inspired rhythms. The actual Song of the Nightingale is more in the realm of an art song - a fully instrumental mini-flute concerto. And the Song of the Fake Nightingale? Well, I won't spoil anything, but it's as far from a flute concerto as you can get. I consider it a compliment when others say they hear [name of composer] in my work. They are probably correct, and I hope I have paid tribute accordingly.

By contrast, for Where the Mountain Meets the Moon , the inspiration for the music comes from the original novel by Grace Lin. Lin's language is so poetic, and her illustrations so vivid and captivating, I knew I wanted to do my best to capture that musically. Rather than relying on gimmicky song rhymes or catchy tags, I began to craft the work on simple motifs, so there feels like there's always an underlying, unifying musical thread throughout the show. (The details would probably be boring in this blogpost, but suffice it to say, it's more than just writing down chords and a melody). Also, Lin's novel is very strongly influenced by Chinese folklore, so I also wanted to bring some Chinese influence into the score. The orchestrations for the show will consist of piano and erhu  - a two-stringed Chinese instrument. This added challenge of writing for a foreign instrument will push me to really yield a different kind of music from what I'm used to writing.

Hopefully, if you're able to make it to both shows, you'll be able to hear the difference between the scores. And I hope that the contrast in some way will help un-simplify our concepts of what an "Asian story" must look like.

I saw two amazing things today...

...and they were both brand-new.

Khalia Davis, Alex Lydon & Steven Shear in The Gold Rush Musical!

First, I got to witness the world premiere of The Gold Rush Musical! at Bay Area Children's Theatre. (As BACT's Marketing Coordinator, I get cool perks like this!) The fast-paced, educational show will be touring Bay Area schools starting tomorrow - much like Tales of Olympus did earlier this year. Hats off to Austin Zumbro (writer & composer) and Nina Meehan (director) to creating a true nugget of a show (pun intended). Three on-point and energetic actors - Khalia Davis, Alex Lydon and Steven Shear - tell a suprisingly poignant story alongside the educational points (I'll admit, I'm a softy for any character shift in a show). And, of course, there's the fun choreography by Deedra Wong. The amazing thing about today's pre-tour performance was that some home-schooled kids got to attend and watch the show, which they otherwise might not have gotten a chance to see. What a creative way to do a preview! I'm excited for the actors to bring this show to kids throughout the Bay Area. Not only will they be educating kids about the Gold Rush in a lively way, but they will (arguably more importantly) be exposing kids to the arts, to theatre, to music, to dance, to imagination.

Second, I led a vocal rehearsal for The Song of the Nightingale, in preparation for its world premiere, and saw 14 actors give, give, give and work hard on fine-tuning the show (there are 16 actors in the show, but 2 of them had the night off - lucky them). Tonight was a demanding rehearsal; I had the actors focus on vocals while doing their movements/dances, sometimes repeating sections three or more times until I got the sound I was looking for. The amazing thing about this cast is that no one has a bad attitude, no is the bad seed, no one throws a hissy fit or acts like a diva. I am so lucky to be working with such actors. I am so thankful they are playing along with this story I've jotted down.

Today, I saw people having an impact and/or gearing up to have an impact on others. Perhaps that's why I love writing for the stage. I like to tell stories about people making a change for the better, and I believe theatre has power to help us make those changes. Yes, I think that's why I am compelled to write. Though today, there was something equally invigorating about being a music director and an audience member.