J.G. Hertzler, director of the Schwartz’s latest production, Biloxi Blues, quickly looked over a tablet of notes in his lone director’s chair four empty rows above the stage. The rehearsal hadn’t begun yet, and Old Broadway music emanated from his Powerbook G4.

“When Hennesey’s name is mentioned, everyone’s face should turn towards [the person talking],” he advised Ryan Stanisz ’10, who, along with his fellow cast members, has been rehearsing four hours a day for the past two weeks and seven hours a day during Rush Week. “Don’t talk fast, but pick up cues,” he added.

The small rehearsal room was filled with piled up chairs and stage props with webs of wires for sound and lighting crawling from the ceiling and the corners of the room. Six military-style bunk beds borrowed from a local 4H camp occupied the left side of the stage to mimic a 1940s military train compartment, and a makeshift dining room set was on the right, “cannibalized” from an earlier production, Nice People Dancing to Country Music.

ON THE ROAD: Six beds are bunked to create a train compartment for the set of the Schwartz Center’s Biloxi Blues. - By: Jaser Faruq

As the actors climbed into their bunk beds and took their places, Hertzler paused the music and a technical staff member yelled, “Lights!” The rehearsal had begun. Stanisz, who plays private Eugene Jerome, rose to address the audience.

“...We were on a filthy train riding from Fort Dix, N.J. to Biloxi, Miss. and in three days nobody washed. The aroma was murder. We were supposed to be fighting Germany and Japan but instead we were stinking up America.”

Jerome is accompanied by an electic entourage of fellow privates. Arnold Epstein (Marc Hem Lee ’10) is a more reserved, intellectual version of John Yossarian from Catch 22 whose favorite book is “War and Peace, for the fifth time”. Plagued by “a permanent erection”, Wykowski (Chris Romeo ’10) is a Bridgeport, Conn. native whose favorite food is “Hershey bars with the wrappers still on it.” Carney (Rockwell Shah ’09) is a wannabe American Idol with a hopelessly flat voice, and although Selridge (Joe Redondo ’10) had a sense of humor, he “smell[s] like a tuna sandwich that has been left out in the rain.”

The gang is on their way to a World War II training camp in Biloxi, Mo. Upon arrival, they are joined by Sergent Toomey, the “most cruelist, most sadistic son of a bitch you’ll ever meet.” A comical military man who enforces rules with a slick tongue and an iron first, Toomey has one mission: enforce discipline. The rest of the play takes place at the camp, where the newly enlisted privates boil racism, homophobia, war, death and sexuality in a pressure cooker made of the poignant yet hysterical language of Tony Award winning playright Neil Simon. The witty dialogue is fast paced, and Hertzler nodded and smiled as the team of actors flowed effortlessly from cue to cue.

“I devote as much time as I do towards the show to do the best I can for everyone else involved,” said Romeo, a mathematics and economics major who hopes to exercise his creative brain through theatre. “There’s something about getting together as a community and telling a story which I find speaks to our humanity.”

However, this cherished sense of community may be coming to an end. Like how the Biloxi Blues boys are battling the eccentricity of the drill sergent and the impending cruelties of a war on foreign soil, the theatre program at Cornell is also facing a struggle for its future. The curtains will fall on $1 to $2 million of the department’s $4.5 million budget over the next two years, an nearly 50 percent reduction that will require a drastic reduction in the number of nontenured staff members.

Hertzler, along with most of the Residential Professional Teaching Associates (RPTAs) who were hoping to renew their contract, will leave Cornell next year, and some technical staff who are responsible for on-stage special effects will no longer be available to keep up the professional quality for the production, said Hertzler.

Luckily, theatre students and student actors are responding with everything but a standing ovation. “It’s been difficult keeping the actors focused when their lives are affected in such a major way,” said Hertzler. In addition to participating in student groups to attempt to reverse the decision of the administration, Stanisz, Shah and Redondo are having two to three hours meetings to make videos of student and staff opinions about the impending cuts.

“Participating in theatre here has given me some of the best experiences of my life,” Romeo stated in an email. “I would be a far less complete person without it.”

“The RPTAs alone have been my teachers,” Stanisz stated in an email. “You get to know these people as friends, especially working seven days a week with them. ...What’s great about them [is that they have] alot of industry experience, have been actors and gave me [acting] tips to get out of my comfort zone,” he added.

A show-business veteran with 38 years of Hollywood experience, Hertzler is experienced in production as well as acting, one of his claims to fame being his role as the Chancellor of the Klingon Empire from Star Trek (yes, he speaks Klingon). After experiencing “the most beautiful summer [he has] ever seen” in Ithaca two and a half years ago, Hertzler decided to stay.

“Theatre is special because the audience becomes one gigantic character on stage, and how they react will directly affect the performace,” Hertzler said. “People don’t come to hear words, they come to see exchange between two human beings, to see the subtext and inter-monologue.”

Hertzler plans to start his own theatre group that serves the FingerLakes after his RPTAship ends next year. Hopefully, this will cushion the impact of the cuts on the creative community, and continue to provide the Ithaca community the magic that only live theatre performances can bring. But until then, even though the fate of Cornell theatre is still up for grabs, the show must still go on.

At 8:30 p.m., Carney’s off-key romantic singing signalled the end of Act I, and an intermission was in order.

“Okay. boys, good job. Let’s take a break and come back in fifteen minutes,” said Hertzler, pushing the “play” button on his iTunes again.