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...of playwrights and personal paroxysms
3/9/2005 11:37 pm Last Read: |
My goddess, what a day
I awoke feeling pretty icky, throat sore, the whole works. I received a call from my Director, early in the morning, as I was trying to muster the capacity to drag myself in to work. She had some concerns in light of my performance in our last run-through. Suffice to say this conversation did not go well. She basically said that the arc of my character was invisible, my diction at times so muddy as to be unintelligible, and that I wasnt hitting the core of the character. I was staggered: mostly because this was 180° away from the notes shed been giving me all last week. I really didnt know what to say, so I told her Id have to think about this and call her back. So, I hung up the phone, and sat and cried for about half an hour, then got really angry and frustrated, then cried some more. I called my friend Julie, who is one of my closest friends, and familiar with the ins and outs of our theater companys dynamic. Needless to say, I couldnt get it together to go in to work, so I called in and let those who needed to know that I would not be in. Part of the problem has been that I am on some strong anti-inflammatory drugs part of the problem is that I was in the midst of that awful hyper-extended period. Nothing impacts the energy like being on the rag for a month of rehearsal. But one of the main problems is an odd relationship with the playwright. Since she wrote the part FOR ME, for the love of mike, one would think shed know I could do it. But she hasnt seen my process in a show, and certainly not seen me perform under the influence of various painkillers. Since she is in the room, and since she is incredibly protective of her words, she reacts to every and any little variation one might make in rehearsals. He writing style is such that my character drops a lot of words I personally am reflexive about utilizing, and it is difficult to remember, sometimes, that I need to say Sure you dont want to come back? and instead will correct it to Are you sure you dont want to come back? which then makes the playwright visibly flinch and furiously scrawl notes, which makes me feel like I have colossally fucked up my performance somehow. When she is only twigging about a word. Yes, of course I am aware that the word is the thing: I am a writer myself. But I am also aware that it really is deleterious to my psyche to be under the magnifying glass of the Director, the SM, the Musical Director, the Composer AND the Writer, and getting (often conflicting) notes from them all. SO, basically the writer freaked on the director, feeling that I am going to fuck up her play. And the director twigged on me, and I had to justify my existence. Sucked. I spoke with some of the other actors in the show, 2 women whose opinions I could trust to be forthright. And I discovered that, evidently, the playwright has, in the past, fixated on an actor who she feels is not up to snuff in adequately purveying, with precision, the brilliance of her words. SO, I am not alone, frankly. Small, cold comfort. But the other women agreed that, while I have been in a sort of muffled space, it hasnt been a wholesale collapse on my part. I arrived early to the space, where the camera crew from KQEDs Spark program were there, filming our rehearsal. They have been following us around intermittently for several weeks. I had forgotten, in my huff, that they were going to be there, and I looked like absolute refried dog poop, having spent most of the day crying or sleeping. But whatever. I chatted with the Director, and basically got more clarity on her issues, most of which were, as I suspected, the result of the undermining worries of the playwright. The concerns about my energy level notwithstanding, my Director KNOWS I WILL NOT give a half-assed performance: she does need to see the potential realized before we hit the opening night. Which is fine, but jesus, it is hard with all of the shit I have been dealing with. I just wanted to shake the playwright YOU try learning an entire show, 3 songs, 2 solos, choreography, a million different physical poses, and all of your lines word perfect while on the rag for a month straight with a busted FUCKING KNEE and under the influence of Vicodin and then Relafen, for the love of great hopped up Jehosophat!!! But I couldnt. So, I did the next best thing. I pretended she wasnt there, ignored her entirely, and created a nice potted plant in my head where she should have been, and tuned out when she spoke. Evidently, that helped, because I connected mush more profoundly with my Director in out work, and felt a lot better about the rehearsal. But man, talk about a Brobdingnagian P.I.T.A.!!! Back to the mantra I AM Fabulous I AM Fabulous I AM Fabulous I AM Fabulous  Mollena
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3/10/2005 11:26 am |
YOU ARE FABULOUS. WISH I WAS CLOSER SO YOU COULD SIT ON BIG DADDY SANTA'S KNEE AND TELL HIM YOUR TROUBLES AND DESIRES IN LIFE SO I COULD LICK YOUR WOUNDS, HEAL YOUR HURTS, MAKE YOU FEEL BETTER AND CAST A SPELL TO MAKE YOUR DREAMS COME TRUE. "DO WHAT YOU CAN WITH WHAT YOU HAVE WHERE YOU ARE." T. Roosevelt
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 3/10/2005 3:44 pm |
We all know you are a Goddess They will too. For newcomers and not so newcomers. Arm yourself with knowledge
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