We open tonight.  I haven’t blogged the last week because, frankly, I was too tired.   But I thought I’d get up-to-date before the official curtain.

We started the final week off-site, working on lines at the home of a cast member.  As I have previously mentioned, there is something freeing and joyful to get outside the usual workplace and spend time together.  We sat around a big picnic table and just sped through the play.  It was fun, simple and we got the chance to share a few notions, concerns and cheers before going into tech.

Last Sunday we got into the theatre due to the extraordinary efforts of the design team.  Having worked on the set for weeks, it was a relatively easy transition to to working in the space, so instead of taking the usual step back in tech, we actually advanced.  Finally in the space, we were bursting with energy and thrilled to be playing in a real theater at last!  Monday was our AEA day off (and I had rehearsal for Babes in Arms as a director at the college–so no day off for me).  Tuesday we did a cue-to-cue.  There’s a lot to say about this moment in the process, but I’m going to save that for my final post after this opening weekend.  Suffice it to say that with each element–set, lights, costume, sound–the play and our performances found new dimension, new energy, new richness. That is not to say it wasn’t without the typical bumps and bruises (in my case literal bruises as my physical hijinx resulted in several on my torso).  We were pressed to play at performance speed, and realizing exactly what that means takes its toll on the actors.  For me, it was mostly a matter of exhaustion—my focus starts to go when I’ve been up for over 16 hours.  Last night, before a preview crowd, I totally went off the rails at one moment and had to really keep it together to get back on track.  We did, with only those in the know knowing.  But, it made me doubt myself the rest of the performance and I was anticipating, losing focus and generally freaking out.  This is not like me, which also freaked me out.  But, we got through it and so far the feedback has been positive.

So, tonight we open before a paying audience.  I can say that it has been the most satisfying artistic experience I have had in several years.  I am grateful to have worked with such dedicated and gifted theater artists.  At a time in the world when things are so shaky (literally, sad to say), it has reminded me why I love the theater.

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.

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

The first rehearsal went quite well.  Most of us had met at callbacks and the atmosphere was quite open and generous.  So, the first read was not filled with the typical anxiety of trying to impress.  We’re all, I think, grateful to be working, and glad to be working in our own backyards.   The company has been around for about four years and trying to establish itself as “community-based” professional theatre–talent and material by/of the community.

The director encouraged us to go for it and not fear over-doing.  The play–an absurdist comedy–really demands strong, active choices.  The trap is, of course, falling into cartoon performances that might get easy laughs, but not good ones.  (I have a lot to say about laughs, but I’ll post that another time. )

The rehearsal hall is a vacant office space, so there is a lot of echo and I found that interesting and fun.  It reminds me to stay open to what the space offers as well as what my fellow actors offer, and to use both.   It is a little cold, but that isn’t so bad for comedy, either.

We were all very good about keeping our noses out of the script and making as much contact as possible.  This really helped shape the read and, as I mentioned in the first post, was useful in my desire to let the other actors guide my choice-making.  The play is short-ish–about 90 minutes–so we didn’t feel pressed to unnecessarily rush.  But there was already a sense of fluency and progression that the text demands in our speech, which also began to create some impact on our physical behavior.  Alignment and impulses to move were already evident–and I want to keep open and not to come to quickly to behavioral choices.

I play three characters–Leonard, Michael, and Al.  I hesitate to define them in terms of type or even by the facts offered in the play because they are less types than FUNCTIONS.  There is some hint that all the characters are actually manifestations of the one constant character–the Man.  I guess I should go back a bit and state that the premise of the play is that a Man is revealed to be on the ledge of the seventh story of a building.  he appears to be contemplating leaping off when one by one these different characters (nine or so) come to their respective windows/balconies and interact with him. The director is thinking that one way to go is that this is all, in fact, the Man’s dream.  It certainly has dream-like actions and there are some textual clues that can be read as the play being a dream.  But we’re not ready to make that choice yet.  So, I play these three men and at the reading I kept characterization to a minimum and really allowed myself to go with the text and trust my instincts.  I just wanted to feel the words in my voice and body and attend to my partners.  Leonard is apparently a psychiatrist who works nights at a hospital and days in a private practice, and claims he hasn’t slept in three years.  The text indicates that he is high strung, over-wrought, and possibly paranoid.  His function seems to have something to do with the idea that we’re all crazy, that nothing is what it seems, and that we all carry the burdens of our problems and would probably be very glad to dump them on someone else.  Michael is an interior designer who has an exclusive client, Joan, and together they have re-decorated Joan’s apartment 18 times.  His function appears to have something to do with the artist in each one of us.  Temperamental, imaginative, exacting, demanding, creative–MAKING meaning, even if it means making it over and over and over again.  Finally, Al is man who throws parties at which all he wants is to get rid of his guests, and goes to parties so he won’t miss a good one.  I suppose this has something to do with looking for a good time and never finding it.  I’m most open about this guy.

At the end of the rehearsal, the director offered some observations, the upshot for me being that I have three strong results to try today (in a few hours).   He wants me to try Leonard ala Peter Sellars as Dr. Strangelove, Michael as a kind of Brooklyn tough (ala Chaz Palmenteri in Bullets Over Broadway), and Al ala Steven Wright–deadpan and depressed.  I was a bit surprised at the specificity of these directions, and I confess a bit annoyed at the result-oriented nature of them.  But what the hell?  I fooled around with these ideas today on my own, and I can make them work.  My feeling is, keep it coming!  Give me results, let me fool around with them, and he can pick the one he likes.  That said, I probably will have an opinion about what version is most effective, too.

I’ll get back to you on that tomorrow.  PK