PORTLAND — David Worobec has a specific type in mind for his play’s casting calls.
There’s the usual criteria: the right look, poise and singing ability.
But then, also: No more than 5 to 6 inches tall. Made of plastic. Carved from wood.
Worobec, 26, a classically trained singer and impresario behind the Tophat Toy Theater, conducts the one-man miniature stage where toys and action figures come to life.
This Saturday, Worobec will take dozens of toy figurines and in a miniature theater put on the Broadway classic “Jesus Christ Superstar” at the Denmark Arts Center. The show begins at 7:30 p.m. and attendees may bring their own drinks.
For the past two years at dinner-theater shows at his home in Portland’s West End, Worobec has been manipulating figurines from behind a dark screen, changing sets, running the lights and playing the musical score from an unseen computer.
Mostly, though, he sings. An opera graduate from the Boston Conservatory, Worobec, a tenor, will sing every role. Mary’s solo, “I Don’t Know How to Love Him,” will be sung in falsetto.
As its popularity has grown, Worobec has taken his shows on the road. At a recent Portland performance, Worobec caught the eye of Denmark Arts Center’s Jamie Hook, who said he was surprised and delighted by what he saw.
“There’s a historic tradition of Victorian toy theater from the 1800s he’s reviving,” Hook said.
Worobec is mystified about where his musical talent comes from. He adored music from childhood, learning “The Phantom of the Opera” inside and out, and realizing it was possible to hold a conversation through music and song.
When he started bringing figurines onto the stage, his mother, Polly Plimpton, began building stages and sewing costumes. As he continued, the works became more sophisticated and included lights and curtains.
“It creates an intimate, personal setting,” Worobec said. “But to expand the audience, I’ll have to work on a way to make things more visible, so the characters might become bigger and more obvious.”
In his sophomore year at the conservatory, he began inviting friends to shows. Word spread, turning into large dinner parties with friends and teachers. After his parents got divorced, he and his mother moved from Boston to Portland, where the shows became a way to meet people and put himself out there.
Worobec has a nonverbal learning disorder, and at times music is a means of conversing. Through theater, he can explore roles in which he might otherwise never be cast.
“I try to make my music abilities help me overcome my shyness and make new friends,” Worobec said.
The shows tend to be low-key, he said, similar to the parlor entertainment of the 19th century. Still, they’re not without pressure. On top of faithfully adapting scores to well-known music, he has to master each part. For some shows he’ll bring in female vocals, but otherwise there’s only intermission for a rest.
Then there are figurines to find. He originally started with what was on hand, Disney and Star Wars characters, but as it became more elaborate he searched online or solicited craftsmen to fit niche roles.
“I treat these figures as if they were actual actors and I think of myself as a director,” he said. “People say I have a definite vision of how they’ll look.”
Despite using figurines, he said he’s become emotional during performances. During a showing of “South Pacific” shortly after his grandmother had passed away, he found himself on the verge of tears during the close of the first act as the lead characters appeared destined not to fall in love.
“Where it will all lead I have no idea,” he said. “If I could make a career out of it, I’d be really happy.”
ccrosby@sunmediagroup.net
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