Nobody Wants to See a Tired Bat on Stage

by Oona Haaranen

[Oona Haaranen, a Finnish-born dancer and choreographer who came to this country 30 years ago, was a graduate student in a dance program whom I tutored in writing in 2007. I then began editing her writing and coaching her when she worked on the staff of the Dance Notation Bureau as education director.  (English, she’s quipped, isn’t her second language.  It’s her fourth!)  She’s not only a performer and a choreographer, but she teaches and directs dance, both to adult professionals (New York Theatre Ballet) and children, and she teaches and writes about Labanotation and several other notational languages as methods of documenting and creating dances. 

[Oona performed as a child for other children in her school in Finland and also performed a play for children with professional actors at the Finnish National Theatre when she was about 12 years old.  She also danced in shows with children who studied ballet in private school for a children’s story ballet company.  Later, Oona performed in professional productions for children at the Helsinki City Theatre where she did musical and dance productions as well. In addition to her professional dance credits, performance for and by children is something Oona knows well from direct experience.

[Oona’s been taking a memoir writing class and her goal is to document in a written form the important life experiences of her husband, her son, and herself.  “Nobody Wants to See a Tired Bat on Stage” represents a very recent memoir by Oona Haaranen which she wrote up in April, May, and June 2013, just weeks and months after the experience itself. Since she and her husband are older parents, she says, she hopes that her stories will be around to answer some of Sebastian’s questions about their lives.  She says that she thinks it’s nice to learn to write, and it’s been interesting to learn about the art of memoir writing, which is very different from writing about her usual subject, dance theory.

 [This is Oona’s first attempt to write about Sebastian’s important early life experiences.  (I’m personally delighted that theater is counted as one of them.)  Earlier, Oona wrote about her and her husband’s earliest days with their son.  “I am also curious about when I write something and what I remember,” she told me.  “I felt it was important to write about [Sebastian’s] first theater experience and, luckily, it was a very positive experience not only for Sebastian, but also for me and my husband!  I think we all loved it!”]

The middle of March 2013 had been an exciting and busy week with the Oysterponds Public School’s production of Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs presented by the Missoula Children’s Theatre (MCT) from Montana. The children had their fantastic performance at the Greenport School auditorium on Saturday, March 16.

In the fall of 2012, the Oysterponds Elementary School’s PTA parents were talking about bringing a professional theatre company to Orient, New York, in Suffolk County, Long Island, for the second time to work with the kids at my son’s school. (MCT was at Oysterponds School the year before but Sebastian was in pre-school at the Orient Congregational Church. Oysterponds did not have pre-school at that time, though they do now, so Sebastian was not eligible to participate until this visit.) My hand went up because this was exactly what I was looking for for my son. It’s not easy to find this kind of opportunity in the North Fork. Parents who have time and can afford to, travel long distance to take their children to certain activities; they just aren’t available locally.

My six-year-old son, Sebastian, and I looked at the calendar and I told him that the theatre week at his school started Monday. He’d been counting days and nights until this special week started. Sebastian asked, “Mom, when are we going to see the performance?” I said, “No, you’re not going to see the performance—you’re going to be in it.” With a funny voice and face, he repeated, “Be in it?” “Yes,” I said. He didn’t quite know what that meant because, though he has seen ballet performances since he was three years old and has been observing rehearsals in ballet, he’d never been in nor even seen a theatre performance.

The Missoula Children’s Theatre, which I’d never heard of before, has been touring for 40 years from their home base to Japan (and beyond) and just during this year alone they’ll visit nearly 1,200 communities. As their flyer says: “A tour team arrives in a given town with a set, lights, costumes, props and make-up, everything to put on a play . . . except the cast.” The actors would come from Oysterponds Elementary School’s student body. (The performers in MCT shows are usually from five to 18 years old, but in this show, they were only between ages 5½ and 12 because Oysterponds only serves grades K-6.) The whole show was put together in six days.

Monday, March 11 (day of the audition) – Day 1

The gym at Oysterponds Elementary was filled with children, excitement and loud noise.  I didn’t want to stay because I felt that this was Sebastian’s time and experience and I didn’t want him to be conscious of me watching him. Before I left, I gave Sebastian my first professional advice for the audition. I told him to “have fun and show them what you can do!” I was very nervous and went home. I came back for the parents’ meeting in the end where other parents told me that Sebastian did well with the audition and that he was going to be one of the Bats. They also told me that my son had a really great time in the audition. When we came home that day, Sebastian asked, “Do I have theatre practice tomorrow?” I said, “No, Bats don’t rehearse on Tuesday.” He couldn’t wait for the Wednesday practice.

Wednesday, March 13 (three days before the performance) – Day 2 for Bats

When I picked him up from the theatre practice, Sebastian wasn’t feeling well and threw up when we got home. I had heard that a virus was going around Kindergarten this week; I hoped that this wouldn’t mean that his career as a Bat was over, since he seemed to enjoy being a one.

Thursday, March 14 (two days before the performance)

I called the school nurse and told her that Sebastian had gotten sick yesterday, but that he was feeling better today. Sebastian insisted that he wanted to go to school and that he was feeling “fine.” The school’s policy is that if a child does not attend school, he is not allowed to attend the after-school activities. The nurse told me that due to the performance they were going to be more flexible with the rules this week and to bring him in later that afternoon if he felt okay. Sebastian couldn’t wait to go back to school and then take the bus to the big Greenport High School auditorium nearby.

I observed a little of the end of Thursday’s practice and all the Bats seemed confused. I saw that the children had a hard time getting adjusted to being on stage, since the previous rehearsals had taken place in the school gym; now they were lost with directions and placement on stage—something that also happens to professionals. It is not easy to remember all the lines and movements in the play, especially when you’ve changed practice space. When I picked Sebastian up, however, he was skipping out of the rehearsal and was very happy.

Friday, March 15 – Day 5 (day 4 for Bats)

On Friday morning, Sebastian asked, “Do I have practice in the Greenport School? I said, “Yes, and costumes, too.” He jumped in the air and said, “With Bat costumes!” “Yes,” I repeated, “with Bat costumes.”

I was able to see a little bit of the end of rehearsal on stage. Sebastian’s practice didn’t look so good. He was not doing everything fully out, but was mostly marking his movements and seemed a bit confused.  I asked Sebastian, “Why wasn’t it good? What was wrong today?” He said, “Because I was tired and that’s the reason I was slow.” I offered my second professional advice: “No one will want to see a tired Bat on stage. If you’re tired, you really can’t show that in a performance!” I remembered the countless times I was tired of smiling during a show, especially when I’d performed the same thing over forty times.

Saturday, March 16 (day of dress rehearsal and performance) – Day 6

Saturday morning we drove to a piano class. After class we picked up muffins and a lunch from Eric’s Restaurant in Southold. I noticed the local newspaper, the Suffolk Times, and found an article regarding the Snow White production. I showed it to Sebastian and he said, “Look, Mom, my head is in the newspaper!” I’m not sure it really was his head. We went home and I told Sebastian to relax, rest and play because he had a long fun day ahead at the Greenport School dress rehearsal and performance.

Sebastian’s dress rehearsal at the Greenport School auditorium started at 2 p.m. There was a huge improvement since I’d seen part of the run-through on Friday. Every child and role had improved, like a miracle in just one day. All the children were quiet, focused and well-behaved. I didn’t see even one moment of that nasty stuff where older kids put down the younger kids. There was none of that; just the opposite: all the children were working together respectfully. The older students were helping and assisting the younger ones with costumes or escorting them to bathrooms.  This must be part of MCT’s philosophy—everyone works together to accomplish the project (that is, the play) and no one teases or bullies anyone else for mistakes or difficulties. Instead, those who know more, help and teach those who are new or less experienced. Those children who do not want to perform can become assistants to the directors, sharing the production responsibilities. There is a “role” for everyone. That’s how they can do this both so quickly and with only two (young) adult directors (who, incidentally, I think did a terrific job).

The dress rehearsal was followed by a pizza lunch during which the children socialized with each other. Sebastian told me to go away and leave him with his friends.  I helped the children with make-up while those who were waiting were doing a second run-through reading in the same room. From the make-up powder I applied on every child’s face, I remembered the numerous times I’d prepared for a performance. After the make-up followed a short photo shoot with all cast members. The children had twenty minutes before the performance would start at 6 p.m.  Five minutes before the performance, I ran to the auditorium, where my husband, Sy, was holding a seat for me. It turned out to be a fairly big crowd. I was very excited for the children and of course for Sebastian.

The performance went extremely well. Only at one point did one cast member forget lines and the storyteller, Witless the Woodsman (the only professional cast member), said, “Aren't you supposed to say something like. . .,” and the child remembered her lines and the story continued. There was another interesting moment when the audience heard a big bang from stage right. It was probably the evil Queen’s mirror set that fell during the exit and Witless the Woodsman shouted, “I hope everyone is okay back there!” The audience laughed and hoped the same thing and the performance continued . . . . The children were able to keep the performance together and the audience was very responsive to everything that took place during the show.

I’ve seen and performed in countless theatre and dance productions both as a child performer and as a professional performing for children and grownups. I must say that this was not a typical children’s performance during which you sometimes wish it was over. This was a high-level theatre production performed by amateur children. All the children were singing, dancing and acting very well. My husband and I, long-time theatregoers, were pleased with this experience and totally amazed how well the show was put together.

The only nitpick I had with this show was Snow White’s costume. It was a little bit baggy. I asked the young directors, Ashlan Stephenson and Melody Waters, about this. They told me that a ninth-grader usually performs Snow White’s role, but Oysterponds only goes up to sixth grade. Perhaps this was also a nice twist, that Snow White actually wasn’t wearing the usual “Disney” dress with a collar we’re used to seeing.

After the show, I asked Sebastian, “Would you like to be in another theatre production?” He said, “Yes, are we going to the Greenport School tomorrow for theatre practice?” I said, “No, the show’s over for now, but maybe in the future.” I hoped the Oysterponds PTA would bring the Missoula Children’s Theatre back to Orient or anywhere on the North Fork.

At nine o’clock Saturday evening after the performance, the tired Bat just fell asleep. I had asked Sebastian, “What book do you want to read before going to sleep?” “ Do you want me to read you Snow White?” “No, Mom, Cinderella. Look, Mom, Cinderella looks like Snow White!” Perhaps it was because of Snow White’s baggy and peasant-like costume in the show that he told me that Cinderella looked like Snow White. . . . I read him Cinderella. Usually we read three books at bedtime but by nine, the tired and happy Bat was asleep. No other books were needed, just music.

Two-and-a-half months after Sebastian’s theatre debut, I’m typing final rewrites to this ‘work-in-progress’ story while sitting in an audition for another Missoula Children’s Theatre production, Rapunzel at the Mattituck High School auditorium, a little farther west than Greenport. Sebastian is going to be one of the nine little Mushrooms in this June’s production while I’ll be a stage mom.

[“I am curious how different mediums act as a form of documentation,” Oona wrote me, “not just writing but the way photos can tell a story or music recording can tell a story of how Sebastian has improved from the first piano class.”  “I would love to mix mediums and find an interesting collage form in which I could mix photos, written words, sound recordings and video together, and perhaps also art.” She says that just before Christmas she wrote a new piece about how she came to the U.S.  “Since it was something that happened so long ago, it was very different to write” compared to “Tired Bat,” a very recent memory, Oona found.  “These were things that I haven’t been thinking about for very long, but Sebastian’s story is something that happened very recently and writing something recent is very different,” she observed. 

[I hope Oona will continue to send me stories of her family and her life as well as articles about her dance work, both as a teacher and as a choreographer.  I don’t cover dance much on ROT because it’s a field in which I’m ignorant, and I hope Oona will favor the blog with discussions of her art, especially her work with children—which, readers of ROT will know, is a subject I care about a great deal.  In the past, I’ve written on this blog about art in schools and theater by and for children (see “Degrading the Arts,” 13 August 2009; “The Legend of Sleepy Hollow: Children's Theater in America,” 25 November 2009; “Making Broadway Babies” [from Allegro], 25 November 2013; “Kids on the Broadway Boards” [from assorted sources], 30 November 2013.)  I also posted a report on the Missoula Children’s Theatre on 25 August 2009, which I urge interested ROTters to read in connection to Oona’s account of the company’s work on Long Island (http://rickontheater.blogspot.com/2009/08/missoula-childrens-theatre.html).]

 

Missoula Children’s Theatre

Last month, the PBS program NewsHour broadcast a profile of the Missoula Children’s Theatre in Montana. I was greatly impressed with this company’s programs and its approach to theater for and by young people. MCT’s been around for 40 years and its work spreads all across the U.S. and into foreign countries where we have military bases, so it hardly needs my pat-on-the-back, but I was moved enough by Jeffrey Brown’s report that I sent founder and executive director Jim Caron a message through the company’s website, Missoula Children's Theatre: MCT Inc. (http://www.mctinc.org).

My own interest in children’s theater started when I was in college. Toward the end of my four years, the wife of the university theater’s director, Betty Kahn, and Pree Ray, the wife of one of my English profs, produced a performance of The Emperor’s New Clothes that toured county schools and community centers. (I played the evil Grand Vizier!). The following year, after I’d graduated and was working in the theater’s shop until I had to report for active military duty, Betty and Pree put together a children’s theater workshop and Betty recruited me to teach a class of third-graders. Besides both these efforts having been fun, the experience taught me some things. First, kids are natural actors and they have almost boundless imaginations. (Years later, working with some fourth-graders on a playwriting project, I learned just how far those imaginations can range.) Even the shiest kid can come alive with a little guidance and support and the right stimulus. Second, children are also natural audiences. Theater people often refer to “the willing suspension of disbelief,” the readiness to be fooled by what you see and hear, and children are born that way. Just as they believe implicitly in what they’re doing when they act out, they believe what they see on TV, in the movies, or on stage. (The challenge with audiences of children is that the performers have to keep them involved because, unlike adults, once the kids’ attention is lost, it’s almost impossible to get it back.)

But I also learned a third lesson from this early experience. Though children are natural audiences, they can’t become audiences unless they’re exposed to live theater. These days, with satellites, cable, and DVD’s, TV and movies go pretty much everywhere. Live theater only goes where people bring it. If it’s not indigenous, someone has to import it. Adults who have never learned to love live theater as children are less likely to appreciate its value later, which is why I campaign for stronger arts-in-education programs for schools. I also support community-based theater programs, especially those that include performances for and by children and young people. Ya gotta get ‘em while they’re young!

Unfortunately, I also learned another lesson later when I continued to work in what is “officially” (that is, by Actors’ Equity) known as Theater for Young Audiences: a lot of children’s theater, including the scripts, is awful. It’s silly and inane, full of frenetic movement and action that is often empty of any real thought or ideas, little more than artistic pabulum. Just because it’s theater for children doesn’t mean it has to be childish. (Childlike is an asset; childish isn’t.) One of the reasons that the PBS report on MCT caught my attention is that its work is thoughtful, well-planned, and still entirely child-oriented. Their whole philosophy, what they call their mission, is to bring theater and the performing experience to communities where there’s no performing arts program for children. “Most of the towns we go to don't even have a full-time music teacher,” observes Caron. The program provides the kids with another way to express themselves and succeed, alongside academics and sports. MCT serves as a stop-gap in communities where budget cuts have eliminated arts programs but sometimes it rekindles interest in the arts which can lead to the reestablishment of arts education in the schools and community centers. They go just about anywhere, focusing on small towns, military bases at home and abroad, and Indian reservations. Intrepid seems like the right word for the MCT teams that carry live theater into these communities. Generous might be another.

According to Caron, the whole thing was an accident. An out-of-work actor, he was on his way from Chicago to Oregon in the summer of 1970, on his way to a friend’s wedding. His van broke down in Montana and the nearest garage was in Missoula. Waiting for his VW bus to be repaired, Caron saw a poster announcing auditions for a local production of Man of La Mancha. “I'd always wanted to play Sancho,” the portly Caron said. “Any good role for a fat guy, I'm there.” So, just for fun, he auditioned. He got the part and developed a friendship with the actor playing Don Quixote, Don Collins. Collins convinced Caron to stick around Missoula, a college and mill town of almost 30,000 residents, and the two formed a troupe of adults to do plays for children in a local movie theater. They knew nothing about children’s theater--“in fact,” admits Caron, “we didn’t know anything about children.” The idea of performances for children, as well as the plays they staged, was enthusiastically received and nearby towns began inviting the company to present performances around Montana and Idaho. Caron and Collins had begun to use children in some of the plays, casting them as Hansel and Gretel, the dwarves in Snow White, and so on. In February 1972, what was now MCT was invited to do Snow White and the Seven Dwarves in Miles City, Montana, a cattle town with just under 10,000 inhabitants some 500 miles from Missoula, but the directors didn’t relish the idea of traveling across the frozen state with children in their care. They decided to cast local kids as the seven dwarves and Caron and Collins went off to Miles City a week before the rest of the troupe and put an ad in the Miles City Star. The two weren’t sure what kind of reception they’d get, but they were astounded when 450 children showed up at the auditions for the seven parts. Snow White sold out the whole week in Miles City and the idea of local participation was wildly successful among the parents, teachers, and the local media. MCT’s basic plan for its future productions was born.

What the company does now is translate a familiar children’s story into a one-hour musical. They’ve used such tales as Pinocchio, The Princess and the Pea, Little Red Riding Hood, as well as The Wizard of Oz and Alice in Wonderland, and most of the well-known fables of Western children’s lit. Caron, who writes most of the scripts, uses the familiar stories because they work best for the sponsoring communities, he says. When a community books a production, MCT sends a two-member team who function as both actors and directors (and theater teachers, casting directors, stage managers, choreographers, voice coaches, family counselors, therapists, new friends, referees, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera). (The team also provides “enrichment workshops” for schools or community groups.) Sometimes, the team has to explain what a play is and what “theater” is. “The whole thing,” says one road director, “we had to start from basics.” Perfection isn’t a priority goal--a good experience is.

The town provides housing for each team member for a week and during that period they cast the show, teach the children about putting on a performance, rehearse the show, and present it for the town. "We're a hit-and-run theater," a member of one MCT road team says. "We audition, rehearse all week and put on a show Saturday.” The team arrives on Sunday in a little red pick-up truck stocked with everything they need, from props to costumes to lights, to put up the show--except, of course, the cast. They hold their auditions on Monday, rehearse Tuesday through Friday, and present two performances of the production on Saturday. On the following Sunday, the team’s off to the next town to repeat the process with a new group of excited children.

The auditioners, ranging in age from 5 to 18 years old, are winnowed from hundreds down to the 50 or 60 who will appear on stage. (Kids interested in tech or directing are also recruited to staff the production crews and assist the road team.) It’s the hardest part of the process for both the team members and the children (and, of course, the parents, too). The Actor/Directors, as they’re called, learn how to say things like, “If you don’t get a role, don’t walk away upset. Walk away proud that you did something that 90 percent of the people in this world would be terrified to do,” and, “If you didn’t get [a] part, it doesn’t mean you’re not good. It just means there wasn’t a part that was exactly right for you. Keep acting”--and mean it. "We know what to look for," says Caron, "a kid who is eager to be involved and not necessarily talented, who has the emotional courage to stand up before an audience." A team member explains, "We are looking for different things, and you never know what you're auditioning for." Everything that happens at the audition session is part of the audition, they emphasize.

Back home in Missoula, where the headquarters is a new facility opened in 1998, the productions are booked, the road teams are coordinated, the costumes and props are built, and the scripts prepared. Each team’s route from Missoula is carefully mapped so that they can make stops along the most efficiently-planned course. (Each road team carries the wherewithal for one of the plays in MCT’s repertoire.) In 2009, MCT, the country’s largest touring children's theater, sent out 47 teams with 15 different productions across the U.S. and into Canada to 1,300 communities which pay from $2,000 to $4,000 for the service. The sponsor keeps all the money from ticket sales, which are invariably sell-outs. (Tickets run up to $15 or so. There is no charge for a child to participate in the production.) MCT also has a local season in its home theater, tours nationally and internationally, conducts performing arts camps and workshops for teachers across the country, and in the fall will open a performing arts high school for teens from all over the U.S.

Collins, who is MCT’s Senior Development Officer, and Caron are well into middle age now, of course, but most of the touring teams are in their early to mid-20s. Driving across the plains, especially in the dead of a northern winter, for weeks on end is surely a young person’s gig. They can go for 10 weeks before they get a day off, covering territory from the Pacific Northwest to New England. Caron estimates that it takes half a year to get good at the job, and most team members return for another gig--some as many as 10 seasons. I don’t know how much the road teams get paid--certainly not much, I wouldn’t think--but you can bet they earn it. And, I also suspect, they love the work. In fact, one team member insists, “It’s not easy but it certainly is rewarding,” and another echoes, “It’s really fun, but it’s a lot of work.” At the end of the performance, the enthusiasm and sheer joy is visible even through the TV screen. (Another lesson I learned working with children’s theater is that the kids’ glee when they succeed is immensely gratifying to see.) “To this day, I don't exactly understand how it works,” says Caron. “But, I mean, Mom and Dad are cheering for them, and so are all the friends, and, you know, the kid that made fun of them on the playground last week, they're all cheering for them.” Some communities have invited MCT back year after year, and children who were too shy or uncertain one year, are in front of the line for leading roles the next. Some participate from when they discover MCT until they age out--and then go on to find other outlets. "Our goal is not to teach acting, but to teach self-esteem," remarks Caron. “You can see the light bulbs going over their heads,” he maintains. “And they relate this experience and the elements of this experience to other things in their lives.”

Of course, I’ve been promoting children’s theater programs for their value to theater and the arts directly--building audiences and inculcating a sense of the value of the arts in our culture. But as Caron observed just now, theater by children has many other important repercussions, too. “You know,” declares the youth director of an Idaho Indian reservation, “when you're a lead role, I mean, how can that not make you feel good?” Concerned with substance abuse among young Indians, the youth director further affirms, “One of our goals in our programs is, when the kids have that self-esteem and they have that confidence, then they're less likely to, you know, choose drugs and alcohol.” The sense of accomplishment alone is a huge benefit, especially for children who have few other outlets. A road team member describes the effect on one young performer: “And I think that that will give her a sense of confidence, and then she'll know, ‘If I can do that, I could bring up my grades, and I could pass a test, and that will be easy compared to this.’" I taught theater to kids in middle school for a couple of years and I can attest to the feeling of having succeeded at something they invested in that the actors and crew got from presenting a performance they worked weeks to prepare. The reward? People applauded them! In my very first assignment at a private school in Brooklyn, I remember one girl in particular who learned something wonderful from the experience. I was supposed to do a one-act play in the spring term, and we were doing The Rude Mechanicals, compiled from the parts of Midsummer Night’s Dream that depict the laborers Bottom, Quince, and all rehearsing and performing Pyramus and Thisbe. The cast was all girls and I cast an enthusiastic eighth-grader named Ariadne as Snug, who did the lion’s part in P&T. She objected because the lion has no lines. I explained to Ariadne that she shouldn’t necessarily count lines as the measure of a role and that I guaranteed her that the lion would be an audience favorite. When my prediction proved right--the spectators just howled at her antics--Ariadne came to me, beaming from ear to ear, and admitted she’d had a lot of fun doing that role. As a teacher I counted that production a great success, not least because of what Ariadne said.

I continue to be interested in TYA, as it’s called nowadays. (I still really prefer “children’s theater,” despite whatever imprecision the term implies. It’s a warmer name.) I did more plays for children when I was in the army (including one we presented on the military TV network), later when I was in grad school, and after I started trying to work as a pro actor. (I did a mute clown, a mime role, in a production of Robin Short’s The Red Shoes which, like Ariadne’s experience, was an immense success with the kids in the audience. I still have the letters and drawings they sent me.) I stage-managed a touring children’s show in and around Middlesex County, New Jersey, and I directed an original version of Aladdin at the historic Provincetown Playhouse (in front of a permanent cyc Eugene O’Neill had helped build!). That last script was written by a friend, Kirk Woodward, who has composed a number of great children’s plays, both musical and straight, and I try to keep up with what he’s doing in that vein because his plays (available at http://spiceplays.com) are decidedly not among the children’s theater trash I complained about earlier. (Kirk also writes adult plays, but I have always told him that I think his children’s scripts are truly special.) My commitment to theater for kids isn’t as active as it once was, but I still applaud efforts that advance the cause. MCT is clearly one of the good guys.

The experience that is the Missoula Children’s Theatre is portrayed in a 2008 documentary, The Little Red Truck, by Robert Whitehair and Pam Voth, released by Tree and Sky Media Arts Ltd. The 98-minute, PG-rated film, narrated by actor J. K. Simmons (Law & Order, The Closer, Juno), depicts a composite one-week session of an MCT team in a small town (and one big one: Hollywood, California, of all places) as they go through the whole process of putting up a play. (An article in the Big Sky Journal of Bozeman, Montana, reports on the making of the documentary; see http://www.bigskyjournal.com/%20articles/big-sky-journal/fall-2008/52/local-knowledge-the-little-red-truck.html.) The film’s available on DVD at Blockbuster, Amazon.com, Barnes and Noble, and the MCT website, among other sources.