Day Twenty: Back To Words

The crew is polishing up the set, and we are back in the lobby to run lines. And this time we really run lines. We have our approximation of set pieces but we are instructed to dispense with acting and just say the lines, quickly and correctly. And we do, and it is a trick.

After weeks of delivering dialogue, one tends to memorize the cadence of it more than the words. It all becomes a giant song, and you walk in, hit your notes, and walk off. You might have Big Daddy operatic notes or a small solo like Gooper. Either way, the words start to vanish for you, and you're left making certain sounds at certain times. An exercise like this reminds you that the words have meaning, and that you can't ignore or forget what those meanings are. This is why some plays feel hollow. The actors have drifted away from the significance of the words. Of course they might be bad actors or they're directed badly or it could be an off night. But let's stick to my point which is this: You have to get back to the words.

Because we're speaking them tonight at Mach 3, we don't get the usual time between our lines to excavate our next lines from our memory. We're moving in a sort of cruise control, and this tells us and each other how well we have individually reconstructed the scripts in our heads. Unfortunately we only tackle Acts I and II, and much of Gooper's material goes unspoken.

When I'm in the wings in Acts I and II, I have plenty of time to ready my next lines. I envision the script pages in my head with my lines in highlighter. I know that Gooper has three lines on the right-hand side of the book when he's offstage in Act II. A little later, his lines start on the left-hand side, and he has four of them in one batch alternating with Brick's. It's a visual memory of what I have to do for that moment, but the words are memorized as audio not video. I hear them in my head or I remember the flow of the sentences. But the majority of my lines are not remembered as ink on the page. There are a few lines that emerge in my head during the play as printed words, and I've purposefully rigged them that way to help me through trouble spots.

Tonight, the older girls practice their big moment in Act I when Gooper's daughter mocks Maggie. They are alternating the role each night. It doesn't matter who has the lines as the child isn't identified by any character. A girl runs in, mocks, runs out. It shows Gooper and Mae talk aloud at home about their notions of Maggie and Brick. The kids are aping their parents. We still have no servants for the offstage lines, and we are exactly one week from our first audience.

I feel pretty OK with this small amount of time left. I have about five more rehearsals to get my Gooper settled, and I think that's plenty of chances.

Previous entries:
Day One: Reading It Through
Day Two: Act Two
Day Three: Reading Act Two
Day Four: Talking It Through
Day Five: Blocking Act Two
Day Six: Act Two Redux
Day Seven: Reading Act Three
Day Eight: The Da Gooper Code
Day Nine: The Laying On of Hands
Day Ten: Pictures and Pages
Day Eleven: Onstage
Day Twelve: Memory
Day Thirteen: The Quickie
Day Fourteen: The Lines
Day Fifteen: Act III Anxiety
Day Sixteen: Let's Just Get It Right
Day Seventeen: Molding the Gooper
Day Eighteen: Goopercalypse
Day Nineteen: There Is Not A Doctor In The House

Picture of the Day
A recent 3D NASA map of the dark matter theory of space. Scientists suspect dark matter might make up 99% of space, but it exists outside our perception. It's all theoretical, but dark matter provides a solution to some of the weaknesses of Einstein's theories. Gravity doesn't work the way it should, and dark matter helps explain that. But to those wary of such ideas, this has to sound like magic and no more advanced than any religious theory of Creation. That's a tiny Hubble on the left.

Day Nineteen: There Is Not A Doctor In the House

Tales of a Fourth Grade Nothing has 80 callbacks. EIGHTY! That's a South Asian army. All these hopeful kiddies present means parents are bogarting our parking spaces, and it takes a while for everyone to arrive at the stage. The costumer has outfits for various folks like the reverend and Maggie and Mama. Mae tries on another dress, and it's brilliant scarlet. It might be too much strong for anyone other than Maggie, the lead. Doc is out of town until Sunday, and the director tells us to make the play march tonight. Curtail the dramatic pauses and finish quickly.

The stage manager tells us that we will take photos right after the first Sunday show, a move that I disagree with. It's better to take pictures before a performance when we're not drenched with sweat, make-up running down our cheeks. We're also having an opening night dinner after the show and the cast receives one free drink each. I will have to pass as no one I know will be there opening night, and I have to drive home. We're to arrive this Sunday at 12:30 for the tech rehearsal, and we'll stop at 5 for dinner before running through the entire show.

She also has a prop table for us. Butcher paper covers a long table, and the outline of each item is penciled in and labeled. I have two props so far, a briefcase and a birthday cake. It's just a block of bluefoam tonight, but we're trying the stage candles tonight to see how well they burn.

The stage has even more new items, including a chandelier, faux wallpaper, and bar items. As Reverend Tooker walks center stage in his outfit, a piece of the chandelier falls onto the bar, and now we think it's possessed by demons. Or maybe he muttered "Macbeth" under his voice. I dunno.

Because we're trying to hurry along, our rhythm is shot to hell, and we make mistakes. Doc's absence doesn't help, especially in the third act, when so many of us talk to him. The reverend still has line trouble, and because the majority of his stage lines are to Gooper, it throws me off as well. We're gonna have to sit down together so he can get them straight.

I leave the stage in Act 2 to get and light the cake, but the candles go out as soon as I re-enter. Later, I get to hand a lit sparkler to the youngest Gooper child for her crazy-brat screaming scene. She runs back to me and hands me the sparkler, and I try to find a place to extinguish it, surrounded as I am by lumber, sawdust, old paint, old curtains, and probably Warner Brother Acme bombs painted to look like Christmas ornaments. Big Daddy compliments me, saying it sounded like Gooper has some Big Daddy in him, and I assume that comes from my frustration seeping out during my big monologue.

After the play, we're told to move back in the wings to make our offstage lines sound further away from the audience. The director has some moments during his notes where he doesn't know what he was trying to tell himself. I see that happen every play. Thursday's run will be only for Acts I and II, and hopefully will be short. I will be there despite my minuscule stage time.

Previous entries:
Day One: Reading It Through
Day Two: Act Two
Day Three: Reading Act Two
Day Four: Talking It Through
Day Five: Blocking Act Two
Day Six: Act Two Redux
Day Seven: Reading Act Three
Day Eight: The Da Gooper Code
Day Nine: The Laying On of Hands
Day Ten: Pictures and Pages
Day Eleven: Onstage
Day Twelve: Memory
Day Thirteen: The Quickie
Day Fourteen: The Lines
Day Fifteen: Act III Anxiety
Day Sixteen: Let's Just Get It Right
Day Seventeen: Molding the Gooper
Day Eighteen: Goopercalypse

Picture of the Day
Maggie prepares to go onstage in Act 2. You can see Brick to the right, his left foot encased in fake plaster.

I Had the Night Off

It snowed all day here in Asheville but it only started to pile up around 4 p.m. Mayberry, of course, got the barest trace, but enough for Your Sis to get a 2-hour delay at work Wednesday morning. We met up for steaks last night, and returned home to watch TiFauxed shows.

"Simply Ming" featured recipes with mole sauce and a cooking segment with Queer Eye's Ted Allen. Now there's a guy who needs his own Food Network show. He's smart, funny, accustomed to a camera, and he's gay. The latter is just about the only untapped demographic the show left for a new host (the loud cajun, the large Italian, the dainty caterer, the tomboy chef, the Southern aunt, the hyperintelligent house husband, the japanese expert, the British partyboy).

We also caught a "Colbert Report" rerun, and Your Sis has become quite the fan. This from a woman who prides herself on a lack of funny bone.

I then read my monthly haul of comics and drifted off to sleep. This morning I awoke and ran my lines in the shower. Thankfully, Your Sis had already gone to work so she couldn't hear my Southern gargle.

I also determined what my first mini-comic will be, and it's a story I've had percolating for a few years now. I'm still waiting to hear back about Greenville activities for you.


Moving Picture of the Day
Bruce Campbell's Old Spice TV ad. I had no idea this existed until it ran during the Patriots-Jets game Sunday. And as it continued, the laughter built up in my belly until the ad ended, and I could bray like a mule. He's a geek god.

In the News
Bush unveils his not-so-secret Iraq plan tonight. Essentially, he's fighting bigger, not smarter. And then there's still the problem of making religion factions get along.

+ + +

Apple's new gadget is a mobile communications hub, providing phone, browsing and music. They also allegedly played Beatles music on it during the grand announcement which suggests iTunes can finally can distribute their music.

Day Eighteen: Goopercalypse

I arrive 20 minutes early to run lines with Mae. We're both playing with pauses and inflection, and that leads to mutual confusion about each other's next line. We sit on the stage couch and quickly hit our moments of quick dialogue. We're to interrupt the other a lot, and we want to appear to be literally thick as thieves. Mae and Gooper are another example of a bad marriage, but they have the same goal, unlike the relationships of Daddy/Mama and Brick/Maggie.

Before we rehearse, the director says he indeed wants Gooper to bring out the birthday cake in Act II. We had talked about this before. I'm handed a square of foam padding for now, and I walk in as the kids gather to sing to Daddy and put the cake on the coffee table in front of everyone. It leaves me with little time to get out of the audience's way, and we'll clean that movement up later. During rehearsal, I notice other actors walk behind the gallery windows, so it's not just Gooper, and it will appear intentional to the audience. The costume director shows me the shoes she found for me; they fit, and I volunteer to bring in brown shoe polish for them. There are more auditions tonight, and a stream of people runs past the stage-right wings and out to the lobby. The kids are a little energetic tonight too, and things get distracting. There are some problems with lines with all the movement and noise.

The reverend and I try some stage business, and we both miss our cues as we navigate the new stage-right wall edge. I have my worst night so far, and blank utterly on a line in Act III. I even say the same line twice because I assume someone else made a mistake. The stage manager shouts out what I'm supposed to say, and I pick it up, a little shocked. I now have a sense of distrust in my lines, and that anxiety helps the performance, I think. Gooper feels edgy for the rest of the show. In fact, the doctor compliments me after the run-through, and it's all I can do to deflect it by saying I bumbled my way to the end. Big Mama, however, EMERGES tonight, and she hits her Act III moments dead on. She even backs me up when she confronts Gooper. She's never bowed up to him before, and because this is her moment, I go with it, stepping back and giving her as much unease as I can, and after the line screw-up, it's considerable. So now I'll run my lines mentally every night just to ensure I have them comfortably accessible before I go onstage.

Mae comes around after rehearsal to mention an Act II line she's stretching out for effect and asks if I can give her that moment before cutting in. It's something I've done every night, assuming she's forgotten something. But I know now to wait until she's through. The post-show notes are short tonight. The director says I'm to really yell for Mama as Act III begins, and I'm to learn a fieldhand song to join an offstage chorus at the end of Act II. Tuesday is scheduled now to be for certain scenes, and I learn I have the night off. I also see my costume hanging in the dressing room, and it has no bowtie. Just a regular tie. Good, I won't have to relearn how to tie it again.

Previous entries:
Day One: Reading It Through
Day Two: Act Two
Day Three: Reading Act Two
Day Four: Talking It Through
Day Five: Blocking Act Two
Day Six: Act Two Redux
Day Seven: Reading Act Three
Day Eight: The Da Gooper Code
Day Nine: The Laying On of Hands
Day Ten: Pictures and Pages
Day Eleven: Onstage
Day Twelve: Memory
Day Thirteen: The Quickie
Day Fourteen: The Lines
Day Fifteen: Act III Anxiety
Day Sixteen: Let's Just Get It Right
Day Seventeen: Molding the Gooper

Picture of the Day
Before we leave, we're shown the cards and posters for the show. The theatre website also has a write-up about the show.

Day Seventeen: Molding the Gooper

We're two weeks from opening night, and this is my first Sunday rehearsal. The stage has an expanded set (see below).

You might not be able to see it but the back of the set is not a full wall. The big windows will float in place. The same trick was used in Greenville's Glass Menagerie set to suggest the play is set in abstracted reality. So far, Gooper is the only one who walks behind those windows (as he searches for Big Mama), and I wonder if the audience will see just one actor move there the entire play and think it was a mistake.

We start at 6:30 instead of the usual seven. The theatre is holding auditions for Tales of a Fourth-Grade Nothing backstage, and we're to use the lobby bathrooms. I remember that book fondly from my elementary school days. While Act I commences, I ask the theatre office manager (with whom I share a high school) about the show and whether certain scenes from the book make it into the play. Big Mama wonders if her son will get a chance to try out; he's currently playing Gooper's eldest son.

I mentally run through my lines as the play continues. Tonight I try some new acting touches in hopes of fleshing out the role a bit. Now that the lines are solid, I got to get to acting. There are two considerations at work:

1) This is Tennessee Williams. It's not naturalism. People say and do things in stylized manners. Yet Gooper is straight-forward. He has no wasted lines, no heavy repetition, no space-staring monologues. So should I keep him a grounded, focused guy, or does he require some arched style to keep him in the same play as the other roles?

2) Whatever I discover works for Gooper has to be set quickly to maintain consistency. We're within 2 weeks of the first show. I can't throw off the actors, and I'd like to have Gooper fully realized by next Sunday's tech rehearsal.

The show goes by pretty well, and the growing set helps. Grabbing a prop or leaning on furniture allows for body expression to work with the lines. Unfortunately, Gooper does little more than pace and stand. And that leaves me with idle hands, and I worry I'll repeat my gestures too much. Hands on hips, fingers kneading the forehead, arms crossed, hands wringing. Except for a moment I improvised early on, Gooper doesn't touch anyone. He is physically isolated. There is a moment at the end where he stands at the bar, and I hope to dramatically slam down a glass to show he's barely holding back his frustration.

Big Mama has stapled two script pages to the wall so she can read her offstage phone calls. I've seen this twice before in my other two county theatres, and it's something I can't do. But then again, I'm not a mother with a full-time job. Whatever gets her through the night, it's alright. There are some calls for line tonight, but we've been away from the stage for two days. This is the time to do request help. Next week, when we're a few days from the opening curtain, we'll work on improvising our way around mind blanks.

We finish about 9:15, and the director gives us notes. We're all seated onstage, and he has detailed instructions for everyone. I'm to slow down my offstage lines, and I can easily do that by getting prepared earlier. We're all told how to pronounce "reverend Tooker" -- it's "took her," not "TWO-ker" -- and Mae and Gooper are complimented on their moment of mocking Brick in Act III (one of Gooper's most dickish, older brother moments).

I make notes about how to move differently in the next rehearsal, hoping it will underscore his frustration with the proceedings. I want him to leave the stage defeated. The play has no concrete conclusion. It ends, yes, but the story is not definitively over. I want Gooper to sell the probable post-curtain story.

Previous entries:
Day One: Reading It Through
Day Two: Act Two
Day Three: Reading Act Two
Day Four: Talking It Through
Day Five: Blocking Act Two
Day Six: Act Two Redux
Day Seven: Reading Act Three
Day Eight: The Da Gooper Code
Day Nine: The Laying On of Hands
Day Ten: Pictures and Pages
Day Eleven: Onstage
Day Twelve: Memory
Day Thirteen: The Quickie
Day Fourteen: The Lines
Day Fifteen: Act III Anxiety
Day Sixteen: Let's Just Get It Right

I spent the weekend hanging out with some Bervard College buddies. One drove into town to meet a date, and the other is a beaming mom of a two-year-old. Much food was eaten.

The NFL
Eight teams remain, and Your Sis and I have chosen two of the survivors: New England and Philadelphia.

Picture of the Day
The set, it grows.