Letters to Holly

Friday, December 15

Day Eight: The Da Gooper Code

We read through Act Three again with many pauses to solidify our (here comes the cliche) motivations. Victoria has brought lots of food to eat, including black sesame crackers, cookies, and long green beans. The theatres begins its production of The Santaland Diaries tonight, and it's being performed right over our heads. Big Daddy is not here, so we read up to his entrance and go back over the beginning of the act. I sit next to Mae so we can physically act our martial crabbiness a bit.

We finally have the Gooper Talk, wrestling with what he's trying to do here and why the dynamic between Mae and him works the way it seems to. Gooper is itching to start his sales pitch but Mae cuts him off. This happens a few times. Eventually Gooper begins telling her to shut up. He also uses Doc Baugh to deliver the cancer new to Mama so she won't tune out Gooper immediately after.

While Gooper's pitch was the audition piece, I didn't realize until last night that I was doing it all wrong. The director asks me how I'm approaching it, and I admit to the Frank Burns template. But I admit that I don't want Gooper to be so broadly funny; I want the humor to come from his sincere aggravation with everyone working against him to deliver this planned appeal. But I have been too desperate in the delivery. The director wants Gooper to shift into lawyer mode for his pitch, and it makes all kinds of sense. It was something I considered, by using the Kevin Spacey template, but feared it would be too similar to Brick's subtlety. But the script gives Gooper enough frustration where that isn't a problem. Plus, Brick is virtually absent from this scene. So Gooper can be quieter.

The trick was something I realized in the second read through. He's not appealing to Mama, he's talking down to her. And one line clenched it for me. Mama realizes that Gooper is worming his way to the estate and literally stands up to him. She even channels Big Daddy by calling it "crap," a word she's ever been too gentile to use. Mae feigns indignation, but she's really just panicked that they've lost the deal. But Gooper says "something is me is deeply outraged [Williams' emphasis] at hearing you talk like this." I had said that before as if he's really stunned by it. But if he instead says it like a disappointed parent, that opens up everything else he says to a similar interpretation. I had before read his breaks in sentences as if he's desperately fumbling for words (for about two minutes I considered aping Jack Lemmon in Glen Gary Glenross, now immortalized as Gil the Hapless Salesman on "The Simpsons"). But now he can be cautiously choosing the easiest words for her to understand. He's a lawyer talking to a jury, making his argument and avoiding the legal terms.

The director asks me and Gooper at the same time if I can be narcissistic enough, if I have a big enough ego to act like the scene revolves around me. My mind flashes to two replies:
1. I'm an actor. Are you kidding? Obviously I've been two polite and deferential in these rehearsals.
2. I just wrote my program bio today. I'm swimming in the magnificence of my career.

Can I take command of the scene? Can I be a fury of confounded logic amongst a gaggle of Southern harpies? Can I chew these lines a bit and maybe flash some of the Big Daddy flamboyance? Shit, yeah. (As Your Sis said later that night, "Did you tell him you're a Leo?")

And with that deliberation, Gooper's a new character. And I am jazzed. These are the kinds of moments that make acting more than just a search for applause. The mental construction, the pattern assembling into logical foundation, and the code cracking before you. It's as if I bumped up an enlightenment level in the Buddha chain. I can actually feel the sides of my brain widen a bit.

I also had a second flash: Mae and Gooper represent a third vision of matrimony. The first act let's us see Maggie and Brick, with her as the dominant one. Act Two gives us Big Daddy laying' down the law and lording over Mama. But Gooper and Mae in Act Three are equally stubborn and clashing in ways the other people don't. When Brick and Maggie have their big fight in Act One, it ends with the two laughing at themselves for getting so carried away. In Act Two, Mama blithely sloughs off Daddy's insults until he tightens his focus and really hurts her. And in Act Three, Mae and Gooper fight to a draw as they use different tactics to hit their goal, and they exit the play with the same defeated mindset.

So, yeah, it was a big night. And I can't wait 'til Sunday's read through to try out the new angle.

Previous entries:
Day One
Day Two
Day Three
Day Four
Day Five
Day Six
Day Seven

Picture of the Day
I think I want this a lot.

Thursday, December 14

Day Seven: Reading Act Three

The scripted tension of Act Two flows into a chaotic family explosion in Act Three and blossoms into hilarity. It doesn't help that the cast has the giggles so everything is funny. This is Gooper's chance to be whatever we're going to make him -- dick, henpecked wimp, spoiled brat, whiny pouter -- I need help deciding how to navigate his shifts in mood. He seems to be scared of Big Daddy, but that may be dismissive petulance. He pounces on Brick and Maggie whenever he can, and they can't do much to fight off his righteousness. He's also trying to convince Mama to sign paperwork giving him control of the estate at the same moment she's despairing over Big Daddy's cancer. Very little happens in the first two acts, everything happens in the third, and Gooper's right there in the middle of it. But I don't know how to make his swings logical.

It helps that Mae is written so obviously catty toward Maggie and Brick and that the actress is digging into the role. I'll have to match her energy to make Gooper interesting, and that will determine how I play him. He can be sullen on a few lines, but he barks at her to shut up as he tries to control the room. And it doesn't help that Mama calls out for her Brick, whom she calls "her only son." This is going to hurt Gooper and make it hard for him to work his plan. Gooper has his plan, and everyone seems to be working against it. What we have here is a hapless schemer. Fate hates Gooper too.

It's a quick act, and we spend about a half hour later going over some details. Why does Big Daddy come back into the room in such high spirits? Why does he tell the vulgar joke about the elephant? Is it to goad Brick into action with Maggie? Is he callous toward Mama here or playful? This is the third act Williams wrote for the 1974 revival of his play, and it's different from the first version he wrote and the Broadway version Kazan demanded. Originally, Daddy was supposed to stay offstage and start to die. Now, he reappears in a totally different demeanor but retains some malice and froth for Gooper and Mae, the obvious villains of the piece.

Williams also restored the fantastic last line from his first version which Kazan foolishly tossed. Maggie makes Brick a bargain: If he sleeps with her to make a child, she'll give him the liquor he needs (and he puts down about a whole bottle in the two hours beforehand). She confesses that she can be the stronger of the two and mold him into the patriarch of the family. She says finally "I love you," and Brick, drunken and dry-witted, says "wouldn't it be funny if it were true?" That line makes the play, and it killed me to see Kazan ejected it in favor of a another angry rant from Maggie.

It's an early night for us, and I go home to attend to Your Sick Sis and wrap Christmas gifts. Nothing saddens me quite like a lit tree with nothing underneath it. It makes me break out into Blanche DuBois accents and lament the sad cruelty of all things. Oh, I declayah.

Previous entries:
Day One
Day Two
Day Three
Day Four
Day Five
Day Six

The NFL
Her Teams
New England (9-4), NY Jets (7-6), Oakland (2-11)
Philly (7-6), Detroit (2-11)

My Teams
Miami (6-7), Pittsburgh (6-7)
Philly (7-6), Carolina (6-7)

I was too depessed to post this earlier. Carolina has fallen into utter crap as the QB lost his magic and the vaunted defense can't contain anyone. Your Sis is almost nauseous that she skipped over the Bears to pick the Lions.

Picture of the Day
This is Bad Wrong. I loved the cartoon way back in my toddler days, and I can't watch a real dog -- even a beagle -- FXed all to hell. Why not make a 3D animated movie of the cartoon?



In The News
Even in recess, Congress is a big fat drama queen. Senator Tim Johnson of South Dakota had what appeared to be a stroke in the middle of a phone interview. He's now hospitalized in critical condition. His failing health and possible replacement by a Republican via the South Dakota governor would cancel the Democrat majority in the Senate and give the GOP an edge through Dick Cheney's vote in a tie.

+ + +

National Institutes of Health officials said circumcision can cut the risk of men to contract HIV from heterosexual sex by 50%. This is based on trials from Kenya and Uganda.

Wednesday, December 13

Day Six: Act Two Redux

We run through the blocking of the first two acts, and I don't have to arrive until 8 p.m. I use the time to track down my last Christmas item (a NASCAR shirt for mom) and arrive at rehearsals around 7:40. Daddy and Mamma and Victoria the assistant stage manager is there. So are the kids. Linda the costume lady is fitting folks with early designs. One daughter is given a bright red dress and a sterling Indian headdress. The littlest is given a Shirley Temple-style sailor dress. It sparkles. It's cute. I want to gag. The older son is given a cowboy pistol, and he wastes no time shooting and twirling. I hear I might get a red bowtie. Mamma admits that she loves saying "Goooopah," and Daddy barks it as "GOOpa." It cracks me up.

We start the Act Two run-through a little after eight, and it's just the one time. Daddy and Brick have some trouble keeping their blocking in line over their considerable time onstage. This is the core scene of the play. Act One leads up to it; Act Three is its damage. While the read-through for the act clocked in just under an hour. This run-through takes a little longer with some pauses and repeated cues. I'm not sure how well they can cut that time or if its really possible.

I sketch some more.

Previous entries:
Day One
Day Two
Day Three
Day Four
Day Five

Picture of the Day
That's the Maggie actress, the ear of Doc Baugh, and my stinky foot.

Tuesday, December 12

Day Five: Blocking Act Two

Your Sis and I have exchanged a bug, and I felt a little icky yesterday. I called the director and asked if he wanted me to stay home. He said to do so if I felt infectious, but said it would be an early night for most of us as he was going to block Act Two and its long scene between Daddy and Brick. Gooper appears for the first time here but exits within 12 pages. The act continues for another 40. If it was going to be an early night, I thought I'd be OK to go. Because I work just minutes from the theatre, I stay at the office for an extra two hours, eat supper, and browse online. I always lose weight during rehearsals because I eat so little for supper and don't have the chance to snack heavily as I usually do.

I get to the theatre and shoot the breeze with Daddy and Mama and Sonny, one of the Gooper children. We got an email earlier in the day that the Reverend Tooker role had been recast, and sure enough, there's our new Tooker. The other guy never showed up. The audition room is now marked off to represent the stage. There's a small bed made up of some benches, a row of chairs to approximate the couch, a stool with some glasses and a bottle to make a liquor cabinet, and a bench for a coffee table. Signs marked "DOOR" are taped to the floor on either side of the stage floor. This area is much smaller than the the actual stage, but this allows the director to determine how we'll move around. All the play takes place in this bedroom that Brick and Maggie use.

Before we start, we meet the new artistic director of the theatre, a gal who took the job a month ago. We introduce ourselves and who we're playing, and she promise to learn all our names by the end of the show.

The full cast is here tonight for the first time. Daddy and Brick have blocked their scene, and now we'll construct the movement of the family around that. The family gathers to give Daddy his birthday cake and presents. Gooper and Tooker stroll in talking about items people have bought for the church, including memorial windows. This pisses off Daddy, thinking the two are suggesting a new window might be dedicated for him soon. The kids sing to Daddy and Mama. Mae reveals that Margaret had to buy Brick's present for Daddy. Daddy barks at the women to shut up, annd that sends him over the edge into Rantville, and everyone leaves him alone to interrogate Brick. And then they talk for about 40 pages while people pop in and out of the room.

The kids have done a good job learning their songs already, and the Mae actress is right next to them walking them through the lyrics. This is one of those rare stage moments where you can actually do what the characters are supposed to. The kids don't have to leanr the song perfectly. The stage directions call for the kids to linger a bit longer in the scene, but the director makes them exit early to avoid as much of Daddy's obscenity as possible. We're not so much worried about the kids hearing it; they already have many times. But audience members -- especially the perceived gentile older patrons -- might blanche at the sight and cause a stink. So off go the kids. During this, I will improv some unheard dialogue with the Tooker and Doctor actors while we stand in the background.

Blocking this helps me in two ways. First, I can memorize the lines better. I have many more cues and marks to help me remember what I'm supposed to say. I have a very hard time remembering lines if I just try to learn them off a script. But if movement and gestures and an aural flow of dialogue is included with the lines, I pick them up almost immediately. My mind plays back the scene to me, and I have a better idea why my character says such-and-such.

Second, we move and react to each other, and that builds my character for me. I can work on posture, physical reactions, unspoken responses to the other characters, maybe some shared looks of concern with Mae. In this act, Gooper has to bray twice. Once during Big Daddy's vulgar ribbing of Brick and the other offstage. Because I have to laugh "loud and false" as the directions command, I find myself leaning back and forth from the waist as if I'm expelling the laughter. It physically makes Gooper look like a jerk, and it's something I never even thought about before. I'm keeping it until the director says otherwise.

We slowly block the scene once and then run through it at a quicker pace. The kids are excused for the night as are some other actors. Mae and I are starting to buddy up to each other, and we should to foment that conspiratorial bond. Those that pop in during Act Two stick around and make their appearances, and we end around 9:30. It's not the early night I was told, but I got to watch Daddy and Brick's movements (and their nice), and I sketched them going through lines.

Previous entries:
Day One
Day Two
Day Three
Day Four

Picture of the Day
And here 'tis.