To the outside world, it may seem as though the play is just 2 hours long. Those of us on the inside know it’s a much longer process. The “Play within the Play” commenced back in August and will finish sometime on Sunday afternoon when the set is taken down.
Along the way, it has been mainly a comedy, but drama and mystery have also crept in. We have had the search for a coffin, the soap opera leading to the first screen kiss between Mary and Mike and the high queen hissy fits when it came to taking publicity photos. As things developed, I’ve become less certain as to whether Craig our stage manager has taken on this role for fun, or whether it’s all one big project for his Sociology studies in Trinity. He could write a paper on why people who are keen to step out on stage in front of 200 paying customers are shy about having their picture taken. We actors are either very vain or we descend from some nomadic red Indian tribe. You take my picture, you steal my soul.
We put the stage up this weekend, and magnificent it looks too. Big thank you to all involved. The spirit of community still lives on, despite the Celtic Tiger’s best efforts to strangle it.
Tonight we get on stage for the first dress rehearsal. If this is not a complete disaster, I’ll be shocked. Normally they run to about 3 hours! We’ll see if we can beat that (leaving out a few pages should help). But the real stuff starts here. This is what the last three months have been about. The chance to step into the lights, breathe in the oxygen and allow yourself to be carried off on the magic carpet of theatre. Destiny awaits for those brave enough to grasp it!
Monday, November 27, 2006
Friday, November 24, 2006
Directors Notes Issue 12
We had our last rehearsal in the “space” otherwise known as Room 6 of Centenary Hall last night. Tomorrow we start the zen process (Noeleen’s words) of erecting the stage and then the play takes on a whole new character. Adrenalin starts pumping through the veins of the cast while yours truly rediscovers some of his many but forgotten phobias. Ladders, electricity and electric saws come to mind. I remember some years ago being cornered by Roger (who deserves a page on Leeson Park Players website all to himself). Roger could have saved Apollo 13 with a roll of double sided sticky tape and a hammer. Unfortunately he assumes that everyone else could too.
Roger spotted that I had assumed my normal position of standing in the centre of the stage so as best to observe everybody else working. Rogers loathes such laziness in the way that nature abhors a vacuum. So he handed me a baker light phone and some wire and told me to “rig it up to the board back stage so that it rings on stage”. He might as well have been speaking Swahili. I gamely figured that this would involve cutting a hole though the set to feed the wire through. Two hours later I had succeeded in cutting a hole that you could squeeze a bus through and found myself holding two pieces of electrical wire in one of those moments that Edison must have lived through. I got a A in Science in my inter, so I knew that if you stuck two pieces of wire together, you’d get a bang and what little hair I have left would stand on end. So I meekly made my way back to Roger (who was building a conservatory from some toilet paper and empty washing up liquid bottles). I asked him how I should connect the two wires. He suggested some masking tape as though I’d just asked him how to plug a kettle in. I muttered something about how this didn’t meet with Health and Safety standards and various EU initiatives. He looked at me like the pond scum that I am and said “Its only 9 volts, it won’t kill you”. I slouched away shamefully thinking “A smack in the belly with a wet fish wouldn’t kill you either, but I’d prefer not to get it”.
The happy ending is that the phone worked and I had a little sense of achievement every time it rang on stage. I say all this because we need as many hands as possible tomorrow and Sunday to get the stage up and ready to do justice to all the hard work the cast have put in. So no matter how inept you feel, we’ll find a job for you.
I had intended a rabble rousing speech at the end of last night’s rehearsal, but we had to leave in a bit of a hurry. Perhaps it’s just as well, because that phase of the play is now history. The next stage begins with putting up the stage, and then the stage after that is acting on the stage. I can’t think of anymore puns, so see you tomorrow!!!
Roger spotted that I had assumed my normal position of standing in the centre of the stage so as best to observe everybody else working. Rogers loathes such laziness in the way that nature abhors a vacuum. So he handed me a baker light phone and some wire and told me to “rig it up to the board back stage so that it rings on stage”. He might as well have been speaking Swahili. I gamely figured that this would involve cutting a hole though the set to feed the wire through. Two hours later I had succeeded in cutting a hole that you could squeeze a bus through and found myself holding two pieces of electrical wire in one of those moments that Edison must have lived through. I got a A in Science in my inter, so I knew that if you stuck two pieces of wire together, you’d get a bang and what little hair I have left would stand on end. So I meekly made my way back to Roger (who was building a conservatory from some toilet paper and empty washing up liquid bottles). I asked him how I should connect the two wires. He suggested some masking tape as though I’d just asked him how to plug a kettle in. I muttered something about how this didn’t meet with Health and Safety standards and various EU initiatives. He looked at me like the pond scum that I am and said “Its only 9 volts, it won’t kill you”. I slouched away shamefully thinking “A smack in the belly with a wet fish wouldn’t kill you either, but I’d prefer not to get it”.
The happy ending is that the phone worked and I had a little sense of achievement every time it rang on stage. I say all this because we need as many hands as possible tomorrow and Sunday to get the stage up and ready to do justice to all the hard work the cast have put in. So no matter how inept you feel, we’ll find a job for you.
I had intended a rabble rousing speech at the end of last night’s rehearsal, but we had to leave in a bit of a hurry. Perhaps it’s just as well, because that phase of the play is now history. The next stage begins with putting up the stage, and then the stage after that is acting on the stage. I can’t think of anymore puns, so see you tomorrow!!!
Tuesday, November 21, 2006
Directors Notes Issue 11
The last week of rehearsals is always interesting in the life cycle of a play. Nobody wants to admit it of course, but for each cast member, a little bit of their mind is saying that they hate this bloody play and can’t wait for it to be over. Of course, the liberation of the stage next week will banish all such thoughts until at least the last dress rehearsal. Then the final panic drive will come when we wonder why we do this at all?
But that’s all part of the mystery and majesty of drama of course. The risk, the adrenalin, the terrifying balancing act between triumph and disaster. Then again, as Frank says, “It’s all a load of twaddle”.
The energy in Act 1 last night was fantastic and we raced through it. Act 2 was a little slower and made me realise for the first time that this is actually an exhausting play. The small cast have to carry two hours of action and dialogue, which must be tiring (despite the fact that some of them are lying in bed for most of it!). For Mary and Theresa in particular, there is not much time to lounge back stage getting your breath and mind back. It’s going to be a challenge to keep that energy going in Act 2, but I’m confident that the cast will rise to it. I’m thinking of imposing a 10pm curfew for the next 12 days and an alcohol ban. But as I’d have to lead by example, I scrapped this idea. But Vitamin C and “health food supplements” are a must. I’ve yet to be involved in a November play that didn’t include a mass outbreak of cold symptoms on the eve of performance.
So we enter the final week in what has felt like the Big Brother house. On Thursday we say goodbye to the confines of room 6 and escape to the prairies of the stage.
As the Boss said, “We have one last chance to make it real. To trade in these wings for some wheels. Climb in back. Heaven’s waiting on down the track……”
But that’s all part of the mystery and majesty of drama of course. The risk, the adrenalin, the terrifying balancing act between triumph and disaster. Then again, as Frank says, “It’s all a load of twaddle”.
The energy in Act 1 last night was fantastic and we raced through it. Act 2 was a little slower and made me realise for the first time that this is actually an exhausting play. The small cast have to carry two hours of action and dialogue, which must be tiring (despite the fact that some of them are lying in bed for most of it!). For Mary and Theresa in particular, there is not much time to lounge back stage getting your breath and mind back. It’s going to be a challenge to keep that energy going in Act 2, but I’m confident that the cast will rise to it. I’m thinking of imposing a 10pm curfew for the next 12 days and an alcohol ban. But as I’d have to lead by example, I scrapped this idea. But Vitamin C and “health food supplements” are a must. I’ve yet to be involved in a November play that didn’t include a mass outbreak of cold symptoms on the eve of performance.
So we enter the final week in what has felt like the Big Brother house. On Thursday we say goodbye to the confines of room 6 and escape to the prairies of the stage.
As the Boss said, “We have one last chance to make it real. To trade in these wings for some wheels. Climb in back. Heaven’s waiting on down the track……”
Wednesday, November 15, 2006
Directors Notes Issue 10
As that red nosed muppet of a manager, Alex Ferguson, once said “we’re now entering squeaky bum time”. He was talking about that end of the season feeling, when Man United get overtaken by Arsenal, but for us, it’s the realisation that our days in the safe confines of the rehearsal room are coming to an end and that soon the unforgiving mistress of the stage will take hold.
Three rehearsals left. Three hundred lines still to be learned. Three sisters still to dress. The cast are doing well however and I’m confident that we will peak on November 30th. As Director, I’m struggling with some of the technical issues. Does green eye shadow go with green taffeta? Do windows open inwards or outwards? That sort of thing. Never has the phrase “It’ll be alright on the night” seemed more apt.
The crew are coming together nicely, Team Rankin have put a model of the set together including models of Charles and myself. All I can say is, you’ve been watching too much South Park guys. Jean is adding to her props collection with every rehearsal. Still looking for a breast pump though [NOTE TO WEBMASTER: REMOVE POLICALLY INCORRECT JOKE THAT FOLLOWS] [REMOVED]. Clothes for the wardrobe are the next big challenge.
We also have a prompt, so big hello to Sarah Jane and here’s hoping you have nothing to do.
We’re doing a workshop on Sunday morning. Despite Craig’s sarcastic comment that this was just an excuse for an extra panicky rehearsal, we’re actually doing this so that we can practice some of the more physical scenes, such as costume change and the mad scene at the end of Act 1 (I wish I had a more descriptive way of describing that scene, but “mad” will have to do). Hope to see everyone there at 11am.
Three rehearsals left. Three hundred lines still to be learned. Three sisters still to dress. The cast are doing well however and I’m confident that we will peak on November 30th. As Director, I’m struggling with some of the technical issues. Does green eye shadow go with green taffeta? Do windows open inwards or outwards? That sort of thing. Never has the phrase “It’ll be alright on the night” seemed more apt.
The crew are coming together nicely, Team Rankin have put a model of the set together including models of Charles and myself. All I can say is, you’ve been watching too much South Park guys. Jean is adding to her props collection with every rehearsal. Still looking for a breast pump though [NOTE TO WEBMASTER: REMOVE POLICALLY INCORRECT JOKE THAT FOLLOWS] [REMOVED]. Clothes for the wardrobe are the next big challenge.
We also have a prompt, so big hello to Sarah Jane and here’s hoping you have nothing to do.
We’re doing a workshop on Sunday morning. Despite Craig’s sarcastic comment that this was just an excuse for an extra panicky rehearsal, we’re actually doing this so that we can practice some of the more physical scenes, such as costume change and the mad scene at the end of Act 1 (I wish I had a more descriptive way of describing that scene, but “mad” will have to do). Hope to see everyone there at 11am.
Tuesday, November 07, 2006
Directors Notes Issue 9
We’re at that point in rehearsals when it’s all about lines, lines, lines. Character development and artistic flair are all very well, but it doesn’t amount to much if you don’t know your lines!
Having said that, I think the cast are well advanced in this regard. We have 3 weeks left to production and are well on track. At least we won’t be stale when we hit the stage! Every play I’ve been involved with has this fallow period when scripts go down for the first time, but lines aren’t perfect. It can make it an eternity to get through one speech and cast doubt on the production team’s belief that we can bring this in under two hours.
Same as it ever was, as those philosophers in Talking Heads used to say.
Jean arrived last night with the first batch of props. This play will have more props that Steptoe and Sons living room. One prop she doesn’t have to worry about is the coffin, which Siobhan has managed to source from one of her friends in the funeral business. That’s dead on, as we’d say in Dundalk. Any other dead puns can be left in the comment box below.
On the subject of the coffin, I’d like to use this portal to offer some subtle direction to our two men. When carrying the coffin out, you should be facing each other with Mike walking backwards. Otherwise the joke of “left, no your left” doesn’t really work! I’m too shy to point out these things in person.
Having said that, I think the cast are well advanced in this regard. We have 3 weeks left to production and are well on track. At least we won’t be stale when we hit the stage! Every play I’ve been involved with has this fallow period when scripts go down for the first time, but lines aren’t perfect. It can make it an eternity to get through one speech and cast doubt on the production team’s belief that we can bring this in under two hours.
Same as it ever was, as those philosophers in Talking Heads used to say.
Jean arrived last night with the first batch of props. This play will have more props that Steptoe and Sons living room. One prop she doesn’t have to worry about is the coffin, which Siobhan has managed to source from one of her friends in the funeral business. That’s dead on, as we’d say in Dundalk. Any other dead puns can be left in the comment box below.
On the subject of the coffin, I’d like to use this portal to offer some subtle direction to our two men. When carrying the coffin out, you should be facing each other with Mike walking backwards. Otherwise the joke of “left, no your left” doesn’t really work! I’m too shy to point out these things in person.
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