Dora: 'Start me up'
   
Believe it or not, the live version of the hit kids' TV show has a lot in common with a Stones' concert

May 23, 2009
Joel Rubinoff
Mercury news services


"Dora is to kids what the Rolling Stones are to parents,'' boasts the press release for Dora the Explorer Live, a travelling kiddie revue featuring a real-life version of the animated Latina seven-year-old with the melon-shaped head.

Which, as we commence our interview with the woman who portrays her onstage, naturally begs certain questions:

Will preschoolers flick lighters at the Kitchener live show, Search for the City of Lost Toys?

Will Dora play her own version of the Stones iconic anthem, Satisfaction?

Given that the Stones are now geriatric geezers collecting social security, just how old are these parents anyway?

"It's very reminiscent of a rock concert," insists Susan Oliveras, a former cruise ship belter enjoying her ride as a preschool sensation for TV's No. 1 rated pipsqueak extravaganza.

"They have these spinny lights, and when the spotlights go dark, they press a button and it looks exactly like people flicking lighters.''

And then there's the Dora theme song, more reminiscent, to be honest, of The Who's stutter-prone anthem, My Generation: "Do-do-do-do Dora! Do-do-do-Dora. Dora Dora Dora the explorer!''

"When the theme song plays, all the kids in the audience start singing and screaming at the top of their lungs.'' notes Oliveras, whose pink shirt, orange shorts and purple backpack mimic the dayglo colour scheme boasted by Stones frontman Mick Jagger in a cheesy '80s video duet with fellow stage ham David Bowie.

"And as soon as I step out onstage, the kids scream.''

But rest assured that despite the show's interactive nature -- kids shout answers to Dora's questions as she navigates her way through jungles, beaches and rainforests with best friend Boots the monkey (the Keith Richards stand-in) -- Dora is herself as inaccessible as the rooster-walking lead Stone.

"Kids in the front row just start talking to Dora,'' laughs Oliveras, whose own childhood hero was Grover, the blue muppet creature on Sesame Street. " 'Excuse me, Dora -- I know what you need to get through the pond.' They'll just start talking to me like I'm in their living room . . . and I have lines to say and it throws me off a little bit.''

So what does she do? Why, what any superstar accosted by frenzied fans mid-concert would do: ignore them.

"I can't talk to them,'' she notes earnestly. "That would just incite all the other kids in the audience and it might get out of control.''

It's hard to imagine a sea of two-to six-year-olds -- half still in Pampers -- creating the kind of mob scene that would prompt a Stones-style security crackdown involving burly bikers with trimmed goatees, bald heads and tattoos.

But don't underestimate the hypnotic power of a fictional trailblazer who speaks Spanish, outwits crafty foxes ("Swiper, don't swipe!") and -- determined to make her way to the fabled city of lost toys -- prances across the stage like Magellan crossing the Pacific.

"She's popular with many kids because she's teaching them something new, "notes Oliveras, pointing to the one aspect of the show that bears no resemblance to the world's oldest rock and roll band.

"She's also teaching them about problem-solving, making friends and all these other moral lessons in a fun, fun way'' (as opposed to, say, how to make lots of money from album reissues and avoiding jail time for drug busts).

Frankly, I've never seen a show where cartoon characters ask questions like "do you see the crayons?" and "where is the hiccup bridge?", then stare silently at the TV screen -- awaiting viewer response -- as if they've been paralyzed with nerve gas.

But it's been Dora's ticket to success, and it's safe to assume the live show will exaggerate this effect.

"It's the same format as TV except I'm standing right in front of them,'' notes Oliveras, who promises to involve her audience despite her "no personal contact" mantra. "I can see them, hear them and I'm literally speaking to them asking for help.

There's a "mixed-up jungle" with clouds on the ground to be straightened out, upside-down birds to be redirected and a fractured sun to be pushed back together.

"And everything is bigger than life,'' points out Oliveras. "So when a child who can't really talk sees that, it's visually stimulating -- like a cartoon onstage."

This ain't bringing Juke Box Jungle back...