Two steps forward, one step back.

One step forward, two steps back.

We’re at that stage in the process during which we run and work, work and run.  It reminds me of a time I attempted to miter crown molding corner pieces–trim and check fit, trim and check fit, until finally in desperation I just used carpenter’s caulk to cover the crack.  I admit that’s a bit of a specific simile, but the notion remains–the final stage of rehearsal prior to tech is a process of alignment.  We have all these pieces we’re trying to fit together–our actions, our tasks, our behavior, intention, connection to the material and each other.  Sometimes, miraculously, it all comes together.  But just one thing out of place and the structure crumbles.

Several days ago we performed for the designers and producers.  This might cripple some, but our intrepid troupe rose to the occasion.  We played freely & well–although pressing to please.  laugh whore that I am, it was challenging to stay focused and not lean into laughs I got.  But it was also a affirmation of the choices we’ve been honing over the last few weeks.  We rehearsed until rather late, and then came back the next morning to work on our own again.

Of course, it was flat.  We all likened it to the so-called  second show let-down or a sleepy  matinee.  Without the thrill and threat of an audience, we took a few steps back.  This is to be expected and we were all fairly phlegmatic about it.

The next day we worked the bits, sequences, stories that required some tightening, and made some progress.  But push is quickly coming to shove and the time for delving and honoring process is over.  Right now, a lot of it is louder, faster, funnier.  The trick is to understand that demand while at the same time finding the appropriate impulse that will result in the result.  Focus naturally turns toward making those large adjustments, while other moments–less problematic, but nevertheless crucial–don’t receive the focus they require and as a result, fail to function properly.  So, I’m working on clarifying “Michael” and “Al” and Leonard, so likable a few days ago, has once again become something of a annoying nudge.  Luckily, I know what adjustment I have to make.  What I need t find is that “through-line of action” that launches me into the role and allows me the freedom to play while still fulfilling the demands of the material.

What I have so far is “I want to help the Man find his way.”  That’s my general function as a spectre or whatever “I” “am” while not playing a specific role.  Now I have to find the throughline for each role.  “Leonard’s” is something near “I want to find an ally,” but this is really insufficient.  It has to include something about the story he needs to tell–how hard it is to maintain sanity in an insane world.  I’m going to try adding, so my through-line might read, “I want to find an ally to help me maintain my sanity in an insane world. “  That wasn’t too hard!  I’ll try it and get back to you.

As for “Michael,” as I have mentioned previously, he functions primarily as a support for “Joan’s” story (about connecting to the world through the imagination, I think).  Michael’s line is something like, “I want to realize the perfect work of art,” and his scene task might be something like, “I want to keep Joan focused on fulfilling our dream (apartment).”

“Al” isn’t yet fully clear to me.  He IS the center of his story, although it also involves “Jennifer” and “Percy,” the Nurse and “Lillian.”  We all inhabit this party (which sound begins the show–a promise the playwright makes and fulfills in the penultimate scene).  Al’s bit seems to be something like, “I want to find a way to be WITH others.”  For Al, hell is definitely other people.  But he goes from party to party in that old search for connection.  His machinations to get rid of people are interesting.  He wants to be alone, but doesn’t want people to know he wants to be alone.  Yet he confesses his secret to the man.  I’m having a difficult time finding a balance between misanthropy and empathy.

On the way home from rehearsal a few nights back I had a dramaturgical insight, the depth of which I am yet to determine.  It may be nothing.  But.  As I watched the play (we’re on stage the entire show), it struck me that the origins of the play was NOT the Man’s crises, but rather it was these seven disparate stories that the playwright was investigating–and the Man was merely the LINK.  All this time, I thought we were telling his story and that our stories all were related to his journey.  but now, I think it’s just that Panych had these seven goofy stories/characters he wanted to put on their feet and the Man’s crises provided a means to do that.  The implication is that WE are not serving the Man’s story (as I had thought), but rather HE is serving OUR stories.  It’s really all about me.  And the other characters.  Isn’t that always the way?

Stay tuned.