A regular Carnival Cinema column of showbiz life musings by Captain Frodo –
On the way of the Showman: ‘Night Off in Vegas’
By Captain Frodo
I look forward to tuesday all week. It’s my only night off. There is so much to do in Vegas. Amazing nightlife. Good friends. Shows for every whim and desire. My favorite magicians of all time Penn and Teller are here. Mac King the comedy magic genius. O, the crowning achievement of Cirque de Soleil as well as their stage spectacular Ka. Not to forget the richest magician in the history of the world, David Copperfield. I saw him in live in 1994. I was 18 years old, and travelled to London with the crazy comedy magician Ray Speedy. During the day I visited a piercing studio and got a PA. Then I got to see David Copperfield flying. Literally flying around on the stage, over the audience, and even inside a glass box.
I have been in Vegas since April but still haven’t seen his show. Because all these exciting things are not the reason I look forward to Tuesday nights.
She’s in the bath driving my wife crazy with five million questions.
“Wash your face and don’t get your hair wet,” my wife says.
“I’m hungry.”
“You can have a banana.”
“I want something more filling.”
“A banana is filling.”
“No it isn’t. I want a slice of bread with leverpostei (liver pate) and Mayonnaise.” (It’s a Norwegian thing. Kids staple, like vegemite for Aussies.)
“Ok,” my wife relents. “But then wash your self right away. It’s time for bed and you’re still not finished in the bath.
I am in the family bedroom. It’s dark, but for her nightlight. I am sitting on the bed reading a magic book. A routine about toilet paper blown across the stage.
Back in the bath.
“I have finished all the chores you must do in the bath,” my daughter shouts.
“Well pick up the towel, you pulled off the hook, from the floor and dry yourself. And put on your pajamas while you’re at it. It’s by the sink,” my wife says.
“Ok!”
I hear her shuffling down the hallway. She comes in. Her short-sleeved pajama top tucked into her pajama shorts. She’s balancing a half eaten piece of bread on a wooden board.
“It’s leverpostei and mayonnaise.”
“Delicious,” I say. She nods and places the board with great care on the big bed. It’s not easy when you’re six. The bread slips off onto the bed but miraculously falls mayonnaise side up. Something I thought was impossible. She looks to me to check.
“Lucky,” I say. She smiles.
“Mhm. Are we gonna read BFG?” Her smile a perfect picture of hopeful expectation.
We are halfway through the BFG. (or SVK as its called in Norwegian.) It’s her favourite book and it’s the fifth time we read it. We have lived in two houses since we arrived in Vegas and this is the second time we read it here. She seems to want a reread everytime we move. It’s her comfort book. I do all the voices in different voices and different Norwegian dialects. And she knows them all. She stops me immediately if I ever use the wrong voice for the wrong character. Which is tricky, since it only becomes clear who’s talking after they’ve said what they have to say.
“Yes, we are reading BFG,” I say.
“Can we read on your bed while I eat.” She has a smaller bed right next to the bed I share with my wife.
“Yes we can,” I say.
“Can you put the book like that, next to me so I can see?” She shows with her hands like an open book next to the the mini breadboard.
I place it where she showed me. And start reading. The Norwegian voice of BFG fills the room. Instantly we are transported to the land of giants.
She’s lying with her hands under her chin and has forgotten all about eating her bread. I stop reading for a few seconds. She looks up at me. I look at the bread.
“Oh,” she says and takes a bite. “Read,” she mumbles, mouth full.
I read. It’s the Dreamland chapter. The best chapter in the book. One they didn’t include in the film.
“I think it’s rotten that those foul giants go off every night to eat humans. Humans have never done them any harm,” Sophie said.
“That is what the little piggy-wig is saying every day. Am I right or left?.” BFG answers. “He is saying: I has never done any harm to the human bean so why should he be eating me?”
“Oh dear,” Sopie said. …
“You don’t eat pigs Pappa,” she says and takes another bite.
“No, I don’t.” The leverpostei is mainly pig, but I don’t tell her that. “You want some water?” I ask. She nods. I hand her a glass of water. She drinks deeply.
I keep reading.
“Where are we?” Sophie asked the BFG.
“We is in Dream Land,” the BFG said. “This is where all dreams is beginning.”
We finish the chapter and my girl is getting tired. I put the book away and turn off the light. She turns it back on for a second.
“I want to turn it off.” Click. It’s dark again.
“I’m a little cold.” She says. “Can we play that we didn’t have a house. And that we lived in a cave and that we didn’t have a bed, and slept on rocks. But we liked it. And I was a little cold. So I curled up to you and then you curled around me too.”
“Yes,” I whisper.
She yawns and curls up and I curl around her. I place my hand on her back making it heavy, so she knows I’m there and that I’m Stone Age Pappa in a cave watching over my little Stone Age girl. She mumbles almost too tired to speak, but she is fighting it with the last bit of consciousness
“Is it still time for… a little … more… play..? zzz.”
“Make the play into pictures inside your mind. Then you can take them with you into dreamland,” I whisper.
Her breath grows heavy. The mumbling has stopped. She has crossed over. Continuing her endless play in dreamland.
If I am lucky she’ll tell me about it in the morning.
I already look forward to next Tuesday.
See you all along the Way.
Captain Frodo
Pic by John W McCormick
Carnival Cinema
Master Showman, dad, husband.
Currently performing in Opium at The Cosmopolitan of Las Vegas.
(And Carnival Cinema Co-Founder)
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