
At AnimEast ’95, the grand finale of the Costume Play (alias, the Masquerade) was a gigantic production featuring nearly the entire main case of DRAGON BALL Z, with thirteen people on stage, a script running several pages, and an opening video. Despite technical glitches, it nonetheless remains the most ambitious single Costume Play ever produced in the U.S. (as far as we know). Ryk E. “Son Goku” Spoor tells the story of its creation…
Rob became an enthusiastic DRAGON BALL Z fan over the next few months. An avid con-goer, he also made a lot more contacts. At Katsucon, he and Kathleen met two more new DBZ fans: Brad and Chad Diederichs. Both clamored for a spot in the skit. At about this time, Rob and I both realized that this thing was getting way past the point where we could just get up and ad-lib it, so we began considering possible plotlines.
Returning from a West Coast anime convention, Rob announced that he’d been given some good ideas for a possible plotline, and that he’d found us a couple more participants, including a tentative “Piccolo Daimao.” Now, I’d wanted to be “Piccolo” this year, but everyone voted me down: “You’ve been ‘Goku’ at two conventions, and that’s how everyone sees you.” I had to admit (modestly) that I didn’t know anyone else who would do “Goku” right, so I capitulated. Meanwhile, Phil Lipari had been talking to some of HIS friends, and Nelson Marty joined the ever-expanding cast. (This process was to continue all the way until the night before the Cosplay, when I was informed that we’d finally obtained a “Kuririn”!).
In the meantime, we had to decide just what all these people were doing to DO onstage. Originally, it was going to be a battle royal involving three villains and the rest of the heroes; however, it became apparent later that we not only had more people than could conveniently bounce around a stage together, but that the primary villain, “Cell,” wasn’t going to be able to make it. Eventually we had no villains available except “#17,” and he simply wasn’t going to cut it as a big adversary. It was then that several ideas, including the need for a real villain and the time-travel problem that “Trunks” presented, suddenly began to coalesce.
We came up with the idea of “Vegita” as a villain–an earlier “Vegita”–entering the timestream at the wrong point due to someone’s time-meddling.2 Rob and a couple of convention friends also came up with the idea of at least one of the fights being done precisely as one of the famous DBZ video game conflicts, complete with power bars, stylized movements, and sound effects.
As the convention approached, everything got more hectic: we practiced our videogame combat; Rob made an audio tape of the sound effects we’d need; I sat down and wrote a twelve-page script, complete with stage directions and Rob looking over my shoulder to remind me of any details I’d missed and suggestions made by all interested parties–we want to include everything. We realized then that this skit was more a miniature play than a one-off amusement–it was obvious that it would require some setup. In another marathon session, Rob put together a magnificent introductory video (assembled with some very primitive equipment), with a few lines of dialogue dubbed by yours truly. We were so caught up in making this time that it was only afterwards that we realized that we should have gotten permission to use the video clips; fortunately for us, no one seemed inclined to sue!
Finally the day of the convention arrived.3 We discovered that we had two more participants (“Tenshinhan” and “Kuririn”) and that a tentative “#18” had dropped out. I stole a few hours and rewrote the script once more, the final form reaching fourteen pages. There were only two chances for a full rehearsal, an ddue to hotel problems and emergency schedule changes, we never had a chance to do a rehearsal with the tech crew.
Finally, at the Cosplay, the entire massive cast assembled back-stage, and we want on. There was a minor technical glitch at the beginning, but the opening came off beautifully; half the audience rose to their feet and we heard a collective “AAAAhhhhh!” when they realized that our cast was assembled in precisely the same pose as the characters at the end of DBZ‘s opening “Cha-La, Head Cha-la.” By this time, the skit was so long it had been split into two acts; one was destined never to be performed, because of tech confusion and external pressure being put on the staff to “clear the ballroom.” Yet even so, the skit was still considered an immense success.
Will the Great Dragon Ball Skit ever be performed in its entirety? We don’t know. We realize now that it would require a careful technical consultation and full knowledge on the part of coordinating staff that this thing is LONG. Per performer, it’s actually not excessive–a minute or so per character–but that’s still a LONG time for a Cosplay. But the best thing about the Great Dragon Ball Skit was that it was so huge that it drew more attention to Cosplay in general. It’s been remarked that between the “Neo-Vader III” skit and the Great Dragon Ball Skit, Cosplay on the East Coast has been raised to real competition. I like to think that we continued the tradition with this Katsucon’s “Sailor Stunt Doubles” routines. In any event, you’re sure to see more from all of us in the years to come!
Ryk E. Spoor4
