The term community theater may bring to mind stale performances of "Guys and Dolls" or "Anything Goes" in dank YMCA basements. But here in Park Slope, the Brooklyn Family Theater is trying to change all that. And their production of the Royal Shakespeare Company’s version of THE WIZARD OF OZ, using the songs and script from the classic MGM motion picture is a real treat.

Brooklyn Family Theater describes itself as a "neighborhood-based live theater, producing family-appropriate revivals of Broadway musicals at our home in Park Slope, and original one-act plays to travel throughout the Brooklyn community."

What impresses me most about  BFT is the way they manage to stage ambitious and engaging productions of shows like Annie, The Wiz, Barnum and Bye Bye Birdie in the small Church at 1012 Eighth Avenue. Clearly, director Phill Greenland deserves kudos for the always inventive and creative sets (there is no set designer credited on the program).

A mix of adult actors and local kids, the cast of The Wizard of Oz infused their roles with energy, humor, and talent. The parts of Dorothy, the Witches, the Wizard, the Tin Man, Lion, and Scarecrow were all played by professional actors who brought charm and personality to those familiar roles made famous by beloved Hollywood stars.

It would stand to reason that a community theater just a few subway stops from the Great White Way would be able to attract high level talent. And BFT really does have a core cast of teriffic character actors and singers.

The Wicked Witch of the West, played by Lorraine Strobbe Goldbloom, was really nasty and green. Her performance would give Margaret Hamilton a run for her money – it was that good. In the program notes, Goldbloom says that "she is thrilled to be playing a role she was meant to play," and I must concur that she was one helluva WWW. Turns out that Goldboom is the co-founder of BFT and has belped direct many productions there. She teaches drama at BFT and at PS 107 in Park Slope.

But I would have to say that the kids really stole the show. As the munchin members of the Lollypop Guild, Lullaby League, Munchkin Soldiers and politicians, flying monkeys and the Jitterbugs were simply WONDERFUL. And not in a cutsey, child actor kind of way. These kids are cool and they play their hearts out.

The kids in the audience were fun to watch too. One little girl got so scared by one of the forest scenes that she ran into her mother’s arms two rows behind her.

And whenever Glinda appeared on stage in her lovely pink gown, soap bubbles rained down on the audience and the kids stared up at the ceiling trying to catch them.

After the show, my daughter wanted Glinda’s autograph and Shana Hughes was happy oblige because she is, alas, a star this small town of Park Slope.

FYI: Auditions are always open, and BFT produces at least one show per season that includes young performers in the cast. Check their web site for more information on getting involved.

To help raise money for BFT, do you holiday shopping at Park Slope’s Barnes & Noble (7th Ave and 6th Street) on Saturday Nov 5th and Sunday Nov 6th and present this voucher at the register! (Please print this page – vouchers are below.) B&N will donate a portion your purchases to Brookyn Family Theatre!

Playing weekends through November 20th.

Film Description of BROOKLYN LOBSTER from the Toronto International Film Festival program, where it won top prizes.

When Maureen Giorgio (Jane Curtin) says

The alarm clocks are ringing in our house an hour early. We haven’t gotten around to changing all our clocks yet. Sleep. That most blessed state is also the most easily interrupted.

I keep forgetting to change my son’s duck alarm clock even though the return to daylight savings time happened three days ago. He sleeps right through it.

My husband’s cell phone plays this jaunty circus music when it goes off at 5 a.m. (previously 6 a.m.) Every time I hear it I think: "Time for clown school." And then I giggle. And then, I’m awake. He sleeps right through it.

Sometimes I joke that I haven’t really slept in 14 years. And yet it’s true. Since my son’s birth in 1991, there have been so many reasons to pop up at 3 a.m. Waking up when the baby cries. when it’s time to breastfeed, or change a diaper. "I need a glass of water." "Mommy, I had a bad dream," "Mommy, I have to throw up,"

Sometimes it is anxiety. Those "omigod, I forgot to do…"  thoughts that wake me up at 3 a.m. and leave me ruminating while listening to the airplanes fly into LaGuardia wishing I could fall back to sleep.

Or else I wonder if my children are in their beds and check to see if they are still breathing.

Or else I worry that they might be cold and check to make sure that they are tucked in.

The fact that mothers don’t sleep well is something I hear from many mothers I know. You have to wonder how this sleep deprivation is affecting us. The importance of sleep for mental and physical health is scientifically proven. How is this sleep-interrupted state influencing our lives?

The only times I sleep well are those rare occasions when I sleep somewhere without my children. Then I sleep deeply without the hypervigilent worry that keeps me slightly awake most of the time. It feels good to sleep through the night and it’s such a treat.

That said, there is something magical about the way Park Slope looks at night from my bedroom window. There’s a tree in the foreground, backyards below and the lit and unlit windows from the brownstones on 2nd Street. The sky above is city-sky-black with a smattering of stars – not many – but some. Someone has a soothing wind chime, which blows in the breeze.

We still need to change those alarm clocks. It’s been nearly a week and I’m getting tired of hearing that clown music at 5 a.m. Besides, I need whatever sleep I can get. No sense in waking up early when I haven’t really slept at all.

OVERLAND, a new show of paintings by David Konigsberg opens TONIGHT at the Allen Sheppard Gallery. 530 West 25th Street. 3rd Floor.  Thursday, November 3, 2005. 6-8 PM

From OTBKB guest writer, Cathy Hannan (lostandfrowned.com), this missive about the little donut place on 9th Street off Fifth Avenue:

Dee Dee Donuts, the little mom & pop donut place on 9th street & 4th
ave was closed last night, seemingly permanently.

Dunkin Donuts must’ve killed it. Althought recently they’d been delving into Mexican food not donuts, so
maybe it’s just a remodel?

Hope so.

Imagine this: You’re invited to a very nice person’s house. You sit on her nice couch. She serves you a  nice cup of coffee or tea and a Cousin John’s croissant with some butter, some jam.

You have a conversation. Then your hostess says something you don’t agree with. Would you:

a. Politely disagree and state your own opinion.

b. Insult her profusely, call her stupid, idiotic, and pathetic.

c. Spit on her furniture.

d. Keep it to yourself and continue to enjoy the tea, your croissant, and her lovely company.

Maybe I’m being a tad sensitive, but some of the people who’ve left comments about "Celebs at the Playground" have bad manners. I understand if they don’t agree with what I had to say.
That’s fine. But why are they spitting all over my site?

These commenters obviously haven’t been following my posts about Jennifer C., an actress I hugely admire who happens to live in Park Slope. "Celebs at the Playground" is just one of many posts about status, celebrity, and envy.

Anyone who spends enough time at OTBKB knows that I’m neither stupid or pathetic. I am, however,  interested in exploring ideas as they occur to me.

Read me. Disagree with me. But please, don’t say such nasty things. Don’t you have manners?

Halloween morning, the kids popped out of bed early, ready for their breakfast candy. "Stop stealing from the trick or treat bowl. That’s for later," my husband bellowed. Even my son who is historically difficult to rouse in the morning, was up and ready for high school in record time, his pockets stuffed with Hershey’s kisses.

My daughter packed her cowgirl chaps in her pink backpack. "Just in case my teacher lets us put on our costumes." This was unlikely because her school prohibits any recognition of Halloween in sensitivity to the children whose religious beliefs prevent them from participating.

I tried to get some real work done on Monday but by 2 p.m, I surrendered to the reality that Monday afternoon and evening were for one thing and one thing only: Halloween.

First crisis of the day was the case of the missing cowboy hat: my daughter searched the apartment high and low. She finally unearthed it underneath my son’s bed.

Second Crisis: my son needed a shirt for his impromptu pirate costume. "You can wear this black shirt of Dad’s." I told him. "No he can’t," my husband screamed from the living room. "That’s my special shirt."

"it’s alright, mom," my son said, ever-attentive to my husband’s moods.

I did manage to find a billowy white shirt in the closet. Teen Spirit strapped on his belt, plastic sword, and the pirate hat he’d purchased at Rite Aid, ready to join a band of roving teenage pirates who were waiting downstairs.

Aargh.

Trick or Treating on Seventh Avenue, my daughter was, characteristically, driven to procure as much candy as she could possibly fit into her shopping bag. We were joined by Sonya my sister’s newly adopted one-year-old daughter from Russia, who was dressed in a zip-up bunny costume with little paw gloves and a cloth carrot.

Her first Halloween ever – god knows what she was thinking. Big brown eyes open wide, she inhaled the crazy costumed scene from her stoller.

The group went back to my sister’s for some apartment-building style trick or treating. Volume is what that’s all about. "Let’s see," my daughter calculated. "They’ve got six floors and eight apartments on each floor