I have been hesitant to continue–you may have noticed.  I found that once I announced to the cast and director that I was blogging on my process, it became a sort of wedge in the work.  Rehearsals often began with the query–”how’s the blog?!”  Maybe it was just me, but it felt a little like people were being made anxious by what I might have said.  It reminds me of when someone will see me and say, “hey!  I was talking about you to my friend!”  My usual reaction is, “oh, really?  What did you say about me?”  The blog, it seems, is a little like that friend I’ve been spilling to about my other friends.

I’ve been assured by my castmates that this is NOT the case, so I am making another entry.  Yet, I remain reticent.  Rehearsing is a kind of private thing.  I was reminded of that this morning when I read an email from a student director who specifically DIS-invited me to a runthrough.  Apparently, the actors’ had been made nervous by other interlopers.  So, in a way, the readers of this (if there are any) are interlopers, too–silent and unknown observers of what really is NOT meant to be seen.  I want MY privacy, too.  Fear and anxiety are part of the process.  “Did that suck as bad as I thought?”  What actor doesn’t think that at some (or many) point of the rehearsal period?  Actors also think, “damn, that was excellent work today!”  The superstitious among us might be tempted not to talk or discuss when things go well fearing to jinx the play.  As silly as some of this may be, it is a routine part of exploration–which to be successful must allow for humiliation AND triumph away from the public eye.  Who has not seen ideas or art rushed to publication or public display in a fit of hubris, or good work abandoned in despair when early failures occur?

So.  Back to rehearsal.  When last I wrote, we had just begun the staging process.  We read and explored a bit more deeply at the table, and then if the spirit so moved, so did we.  We had the rehearsal floor taped (well, marked out anyway), with chairs standing in for windows and ledges.  Recall that the play takes place entirely on the seventh floor ledge of a building.  What I began to see was how these disparate characters were linked to each other and how important it was not only to distinguish my characters from each other, but also from the other characters in the play.  The director has a great feel for the rhythm of a scene and a good grasp on the play as a whole.  He was watching out for variety in movement, sound & action.  The upshot of which was that one of my characters was just not functioning.  I had made progress on “Leonard” and “Michael,” moving them in clear directions and away from stereotypes (while fulfilling the tasks demanded by the text).  But “Al” was giving me trouble.  The director gave me some images and actual people to suggest preferences and orientations.  We went from a Stephen Wright-like misanthrope to a nerdy, Rick Moranis-like goofball.  One was too like another character, the other just lame!  But, the trips were worth it because I can borrow some actions and alignments from each to inform what “Al” is now becoming.  At any rate, the costume designer came to one rehearsal (#5, I think) and as we chatted about our characters it was clear that NO ONE had a good idea about “Al.”  We bandied about some notions about what “Al” would wear and I think I finally suggested (out of desperation) that maybe because he was a perpetual party-goer he wore a Hawaiian shirt.  This got a laugh and then we finished for the day.  The director emailed me late the next night to suggest a “Lewis Black” approach.  I’m not too up on Mr. Black and I thought maybe I should check him out on the web.  But I resisted that and instead just drew from my memory–pretty sketchy, admittedly.  But that sketchiness was probably a good thing.  I had an image of a large, curmudgeonly fellow in a Hawaiian shirt and a deep neurotic need to be “seen.”  The key for me was his line,

“I’m always hearing about parties I didn’t go to.  How great they were.  What a fabulous time everybody had.  The ones I miss are always the good ones.  So I never miss one now.”

Although he would rather be alone, he doesn’t want to miss out.  Like many of the characters in this play, I think that line hits upon one of those paradoxes we all can relate to.  Back in rehearsal, that seemed to work rather well.  Flush with success, I ran to my rehearsal journal (I keep with me at all times) and wrote down the following:

Al as Lewis Black–brash, annoyed, abrasive, laughs at own jokes.  Horizontal orientation.  Leads with stomach.  Bear-like.  Strong Weight, Sustained Time and Direct Space Efforts–PRESSer.

Leonard–sagittal orientation.  Bird-like.  Leads with nose (?)  Darting, dabbing and flicking.  Light Weight, Indirect Space, Quick Time Efforts.

Michael–Vertical orientation.  Leads with chest (heart).  Reptilian.  Direct Space, Sustained Time, Bound Flow Efforts–glider to slasher.

So, that’s where I am today.  Lines due soon, but I’m on them.

I’m enjoying rehearsing.  In fact, I look forward to it–even though the pressures of parenthood and my full-time job as a professor squeeze my time and psyche now and then.  This is a good group of people.  And I’m not just saying that to alleviate any anxiety about blogging.

I’ll be back soon.

PK