Radio Shows and Expressive Arts

Radio Shows: A lost art. 

There's something I like about radio shows: there are no visuals, no video. Just sound and imagination. It's something I think this generation has lost somewhat....except for the parts where it hasn't. Go figure, but I've found people on YouTube who get together and make radio shows based on tv shows they watch...and they're actually good! Some folks made their own Doctor Who radio show "video" once, and it sounded just like one of Big Finish Production's pieces. Isn't it funny what a bunch of random people on a video-sharing website can do?

Then there's the people who are actually making real radio shows. I've just discovered a series made to sound like a noir detective show, complete with saxophone and old-fashioned lingo. The thing about radio shows is that -if done right-  it sucks you in and you don't need pictures or video. Your imagination does all the work itself!

When I was ten or eleven years old, my Expressive Arts class did a unit on radio shows. We had all week to work in two teams on two different shows, then at the end of the week, we broadcast the productions live to the entire grade. (I don't know how we managed this from a crummy old portable, but let's just say magic and leave it there.)

I was put in a group doing a Buck Rogers-style sci-fi adventure. Teamwork!

And by "teamwork", I mean: the popular kids take the lead roles and the unpopular kids get whatever is left over.

I got sound effects.

That wasn't so bad, actually. I found some very interesting noises that could be made with a toy echo-phone, a bowl of cornflakes, a pair of sneakers, and various other objects lying around in the prop department. I don't remember what most of it got used for, but I do recall that the cornflakes were used to make the sounds of feet on gravel, and if you hit the echo-phone against the table a couple times, it made cool blaster noises.

One of my team-mates ended up doing the Darth-Vader-Breathing-Noise into the echo-phone while sticking her head in an open filing cabinet to make the sound of an alien. It was one of the weirdest things I've ever heard. (and given that I was in a room full of middle schoolers, that's saying something.)

My sister was put in a group doing a short horror piece called "Night on Bear Mountain".

Or as I like to call it, "Zombie Stuffed Animals ate the Babysitter".

Here's the premise: 

1950s America. A teenaged babysitter comes to the house to watch Ira, a troubled boy who is very attached to his beloved teddy bear. "Do you want to play flashlight tag?" he asks. The babysitter doesn't want to do much besides use the house phone. (Ah, the days before smart phones. Scratch that, the days before mobile phones. This is probably rotary dial, folks.) "Run along and play," she says, and flops into a cozy armchair. The cushions squeak as she reaches for the old phone. In the living room, Ira carries a flashlight with him the whole time, very concerned about the Bogeys (or some name like that. I can't remember.)

For a while, Ira plays a game where he runs around with the flashlight avoiding Bogeys. You hear small feet darting back and forth as he mutters about the Bogeys. The babysitter chatters away on the phone to one of her friends, occasionally stopping to call out, "Ira, I'm on the phone!" and "Will you settle down?!" Suddenly Ira cries out in panic: Teddy has gotten caught on something and there is now a rip in his arm. Sorrowfully, the unnerving child hands the bear to the babysitter and declares that he's not safe anymore because the Bogeys got him. "Well, we'll fix him," says the girl, hoping to avoid tears. "No!" says her young charge, "We can't! Teddy is a Bogey now!" The babysitter responds with a snort of derision and puts the bear up on the shelf. Ira panics, saying it isn't safe and it's too late to fix him. The babysitter loses her temper with Ira and sends him to bed. We hear a door slam.

Some time later, she's still talking on the phone when she hears a thump. "Hang on a second," she tells her friend, "The kid is trying to get his stupid bear down." She sets the phone down, stands up, and peers into the kitchen. "Ira?" she calls, "Is that you?" She monologues about how it couldn't possibly be Ira, because Ira is far to short to reach the top of the shelf where she put Teddy.  Curious, the babysitter walks into the kitchen, where a huge, dark shape is lurking. You hear a growl, and a scream, and then silence.

The phone rings.

There is the patter of little feet, and then Ira answers the phone. "Hello? Hi Mom. No, everything's fine. Well, Teddy made a mess in the kitchen. Yeah, again."
The End.

Among the various props used for sound effects, I seem to recall a pool noodle. I don't know what in the flying blue coffee beans it was used for, but there was a pool noodle in there. Meredith played the kid in the radio show, making him this disturbing Twilight Zone-ish child. It was awesome. Why can't people still do this sort of thing? Maybe instead of a play, CIU might try an old-fashioned radio show. Some old detective story, or a classic novel, perhaps. Or maybe just some good old-fashioned Twilight Zone-y stuff. 

No video. No visuals. Just a door.
"You unlock this door with the key of imagination. Beyond it is another dimension - a dimension of sound, a dimension of sight, a dimension of mind. You're moving into a land of both shadow and substance, of things and ideas. You've just crossed over into the Twilight Zone."