Letters to Holly

Friday, September 28

End of Second Week

I met Your Sis for dinner with her new coworker, and I wolfed down a sandwich before leaving for the warehouse.

Thursday afternoon, a director email arrived with this info:

Next week is not only a new week but a new month! October means that we have only four more weeks of rehearsal before we open. These past two weeks have been gratifying watching the characters develop.

Attorney Flint is learning all his lines so quickly! I hope the rest of you are. The depth of your character cannot be plumbed until those words come out automatically. They are the key to this person you are trying to be. Acting can't really start until the character is formed with words.
When we arrive for rehearsals, the director has me run through my opening arguments in front of the actors. While part of this was to kill time while we waited for the defendant to arrive, it also feels like I was serving as an example to those not there last night. Around 7:20, we stop killing time and begin Act Three. My secretary plays the part of the defendant, who never did arrive. Again, while I'm not "onstage," I'm memorizing lines in Act One. I nailed down about 8 pages yesterday, and I'm now within sight of the end of the act. I will definitely be able to have it committed to memory by this weekend, and I'm aiming for the first five pages of Act Two as well.

The costume person (and now I know there's a costume person) has asked us to come up with our own duds. I'll hit the local charity stores to see if I can find an appropriate suit. I've also been told I don't have to shave the beard.

The director praised the timing and delivery of the Act Three material and noted the "fire" of the closing arguments. The actress playing the stripper is really digging into her role. She has a nice organic reading of her role -- nice pauses, nice enunciations. I should also note that Doc is a completely different person in this show. He's much more jovial and with it, and I think he's indeed playing up to this new level of responsibility.

We have a nice break before Tuesday. My brain will get a bit of a breather, and I'll recite lines as I'm working in the garden this weekend.

Rehearsals
'Go and Do Likewise, Gents'
Script Work
J'Accuse
Cramming
Walking and Talking
Readthrough
Marking the Floor

Auditions

First Night
Second Night
Third Night
Fourth Night

Picture of the Day
Missed him by a mile. Maybe the Force is strong with his foot. Also? Luke has chicken legs. If he spent, let's say, two months running around Dagobah and getting his jedi on, he should be sporting some significant quad-dage.

Thursday, September 27

'Go and Do Likewise, Gents'

I recited my first 20 pages as I drove to work and found a lovely surprise when I got home: IFC was showing GlenGarry Glenn Ross. This is the muy macho salesman film by David Mamet. Within the first half hour of the film is this magnificent scene -- virtually a monologue -- by Alec Baldwin. He's a home office representative who utterly decimates the branch-office sales group by threatening their jobs unless they improve their numbers. You can see it here (NSFW language).




Baldwin has never been better, and this is exactly the kind of pre-rehearsal scene I need to watch. My character has similar long clutches of dialogue, and he has to make his point to a group of people. I don't have this kind of anger or language to toss around, but I need to steal that level of confidence and carriage for my guy. So, yes, my guy will be a bit like Baldwin as he tries to bring the jury back to his version of the murder and not the (probably true) conspiracy. He's going to slam the female defendant even if he knows she isn't guilty of murder. The scene worked so well on Your Sis that she watched the rest of the movie.

We run Act One tonight, and I arrive practically twitching from anxiety about the memorization. The pressure comes wholly from me, but I would much rather get this stuff early then try to learn it all at the last minute. That's when big mistakes are made. Also, the sooner I put the script down, the sooner I can focus on the body language and floor movement. The attorneys constitute virtually the entirety of movement, and we need to choreograph this stuff to the inch.

Because some folks aren't here tonight, the assembled cast skews young. The widow, the handwriting expert, the rookie cop, and my secretary all look younger than 25. That leaves the judge, Doc, the defendant (a late arrival, she doesn't talk until the end of the act), and the medical examiner. The secretary doubles as the clerk and then the absent Aunt Jemima housekeeper, and the cop also reads the lines of the private eye, who we really really really need to cast. The younger gang makes for a looser, lighter atmosphere. They're having fun, and it's infectious. We're working with noir material with patches of goofiness, and when we step on those, we crack up.

My character cranks up about three pages into Act One, and I don't do so well with my lines. I stumble early and have to use the script to regain my mental footing. I recite, peek, recite, peek the whole way through, and then go to the script exclusively when I hit page 22. I apologize for the screw-ups, but the director just thanks me for starting the memorization. When I chat with the examiner between runthroughs, he assures me that lines always go better at home compared to the first time they're tried in rehearsal. I set myself up for it, and I let myself down. But we are only in our second week, so I can't beat myself up.

The act ends with a weird moment as the defendant is allowed to question the widow, and it makes for awkward positioning. We run through it a few times. Also, the judge is --- look, he seems like a nice guy, but he can't follow the script when it's sitting on his lap. When he's reading it. When his lines are highlighted. He's just not paying attention. We start to stomp our feet on the concrete floor to create the sound of the gavel he's supposed to rap on his desk. The gavel in his hand, the gavel with its specific stage directions in the midst of his dialogue.

Because the defendant arrived after we started the first run, she's shocked when I start the second run without my script. I hear her gasp and whisper to Doc, sitting next to her. I do pretty well until I switch the metaphors for heart attack and earthquake. The other actors yell out the right words, and I crack up laughing. They're giving me shit for the mistake this early in the process. And we all crack up as I thank them for not throwing lettuce. The rest of the act goes pretty well for my lines, and I do get to concentrate on my footwork for a few minutes. The rest of the night is practically slapstick as the substitute actors try broad accents and sometimes sing their lines. The director is letting them run with it. It's not like they'll play those other roles, and we can't cement scene direction until those actors are here.

Rehearsals
Script Work
J'Accuse
Cramming
Walking and Talking
Readthrough
Marking the Floor

Auditions

First Night
Second Night
Third Night
Fourth Night

Wednesday, September 26

Script Work

After a quick home dinner of soup and bread, I bebop over to the warehouse and walk in with the actress playing the Swedish housekeeper. The director says I'm doing some good work, and I thank her for taking a chance on a new guy. Some theatres won't, and many have good reasons to; you never know when a potentially good applicant will bomb out on lines or professionalism. Doc overhears and mentions that we met on Cat, and it turns out some of these folks saw the play. They ask who I was, I tell them, and then I hear the best compliment a guy can get: "You were Gooper?!"

We run Act Two. It's easier on my character. He has lighter moments and fewer lines. The first witness in this act is the second housekeeper, and it's a broad comedy bit. She's gossipy and indignant. The attorney razes her on her accent and nosiness. Then I cross examine the Swedish bookkeeper and lob softballs to Whitfield, the rich father-in-law. That actor continues to bring the awesome. He's got the right carriage and gestures to the jury. Also has a fantastic stage voice. The girl playing my secretary doubles as the court clerk. The actress playing the defendant tries out a Swedish accent, but it's coming out a little Hungarian. Not that her character has a set background; she can play it with any accent.

We work on the timing of the judge's gavel banging, and he's still having trouble following along even with the script sitting in front of him. He hasn't highlighted his lines and directions. Meanwhile others of us are not only walking and talking but writing our improved stage movements in our scripts while we're walking and talking. The judge has to be nudged into reading his lines most of the time. It's as if he's never read a script before, yet he's supposedly a veteran of this theatre.

While the other attorney is questioning his star witnesses, I flip back to Act One to learn more lines. It's tricky to read them and mentally recite them while making sure I don't miss a cue in Act Two. I'm up to page 20 now. That's the opening argument and three witnesses, but I have three more and 15 pages left in this act to learn. And when I get Act One memorized, that's only one-third of the play. I'd like to be off-script by Oct. 15, giving me two full weeks of rehearsals without the book before we open. I'm starting to wake up with the script bouncing in my brain, waiting to be recited.

Because I didn't sleep well the night before, I woke up Tuesday morning so groggy that I broke down and bought a frappuccino. I nursed that for most of the workday, and when I got home, Your Sis handed me another one she just bought at the store. I took that to rehearsal and was practically hovering through the runthrough. I woke up this morning somewhat rested but again with the last witness lines tapping on the inside of my forehead. A few minutes later, there I stand in the shower, giving my lawyer eyes to the shampoo bottle. I'll see how well I know these 20 pages tonight as we hit Act One for the first time since last week.

Rehearsals
J'Accuse
Cramming
Walking and Talking
Readthrough
Marking the Floor

Auditions

First Night
Second Night
Third Night
Fourth Night

Picture of the Day
It's just your spaaace waaalkin',
telling me lies.

Tuesday, September 25

J'Accuse

We're doing Act Three tonight, the act when we explicate the conspiracy twist: The deceased and the accused actually faked his murder for a massive robbery, but he died before he could run off to Buenos Aires. The third accomplice runs into the court to inform the defendant and attorneys. If she didn't kill him, she can't be found guilty of this crime and must be set free. But my character ain't having it, and he grills the two living accomplices and the deceased's loyal bookkeeper. And then he concludes with three pages of closing argument.

As we start the rehearsal, I'm introduced to my secretary. She's been on the cast list as the other attorney's assistant, but the defense table already has three people sitting there, so I get the girl. She's a student of my wife, and we knew before her that she was cast. She doesn't have any lines, and we'll probably spend the entire play pantomiming note-taking and talking about the audience and jury.

Because of the act's story, my character becomes noticeably feistier and I have to pay particular attention to pacing. The script directs him to punctuate his closing statements with certain sentences in all caps. This is becuase he's trying to direct the jury back to the original charge and description of events and way from the faked-death conspiracy. The defendant, however, is playing the act as if the conspiracy is true, and if it is, my attorney becomes a Javert -- unconcerned with truth, only with justice. He becomes a bad guy, and I have no problem playing the added degree of difficulty. It can make his protests and comments snarky instead of righteous. But I have to be careful that I don't get shrill in my exasperated arrogance, and I have to save that energy for the end of the play -- and the fucking three-page monologue.
I'm not complaining. Really, the length is necessary to encapsulate the entire play to the jury and the audience. I'm proud to have that responsibility. But, omigod, it's three pages long. I'll need water at the prosecution table, or I won't make it.

Everyone in this act is hitting home runs. The accomplices are working it; the actor playing the gangster accomplice is already chewing on a toothpick. The defense attorney has obviously attacked his closing argument at home, and the father-in-law of the deceased is reacting to characters played by absent actors. The bit role of the widowed stripper gets an advanced degree of sass, and the secretary pretends she's taking notes when she's not reading along with the script. These people came to play.

We focus on two moments during the rehearsal: the gangster's dramatic entrance at the end of Act Two and the Act Three dramatic confession of the loyal Swedish bookkeeper. We also have our first prop -- a gun that links the gangster to the defendant. It's supposed to be a 32-calibre handgun, but we're using a cowboy revolver tonight. Oh, and the judge is using small blocks of wood for his gavel, and he's sitting on a couch used in a previous production. It's only our second week, after all.

Rehearsals
Cramming
Walking and Talking
Readthrough
Marking the Floor

Auditions

First Night
Second Night
Third Night
Fourth Night

The NFL Contest
HER PICKS
NFC: New Orleans (0-3), St. Louis (0-3)
AFC: Indianapolis (3-0), New England (3-0)

MY PICKS
NFC: New Orleans (0-3), Carolina (2-1)
AFC: New England (3-0), San Diego (1-2)

Picture of the Day
Drillbird.

Monday, September 24

Cramming

Everything else I did this weekend was eclipsed by the effort to learn my lines.

The attorney's opening statement is a sprawling, weak-written salvo. Words are repeated needlessly (the word "world" pops up three times within five sentences), and the character fails to properly identify the deceased. One of the agreements of buying the rights to produce a play is that you don't drastically alter the script. Technically, you're not supposed to change it at all, but many companies erase bad language. This company has already rewritten the former Aunt Jemima housekeeper character, removing the now-embarrassing dialect. I wonder if I can tinker with the lawyer's monologue.

I also learned the examinations of two witnesses: the medical examiner and that rewritten housekeeper. What helps is the understanding that a lawyer has to paint a picture of the crime for the jury. Again, it would be nice if I told them -- and, most important, the audience -- exactly who died. The lawyer's questions follow a linear logic of describing the events. The ME conversation is a tad over a page -- what did you find, what kind of bullet could have hit the body, maybe he was dead before he was tossed off the penthouse -- but the housekeeper material goes on for days: who are you, why were you there, what have you seen, what happened the night of the death. This includes mystery men who went to the penthouse and walked off separately.

There's no easy trick for this that I've found; you simply have to know the material. I usually read a script page and memorize my lines each time they appear. I read a line, say it aloud, move to the next line, say them both aloud, go to the next, say those three aloud, etc. It dominated my weekend just to wrangle with ten pages. That's a discouraging fraction of the script. But that initial hump of a soliloquy hindered the work. I think now I can tackle batches of pages at one time, clawing my way to full memorization. I'd love to start the next Act One rehearsal with the script closed and across the room. I think it will shock the others.

I recited the material on the way into work and it felt good. I don't think I dropped any lines. That overnight mental retention is the sign that it wasn't short-term. My brain feels tender, like I overworked it.

I just got emails from the director. The PI actor has dropped out of the play and quickly managed to snag the male lead in Taming of the Shrew in another production; sounds like he auditioned for two roles and picked the better offer. Can't blame him for that. We also still need a handful of actors for small roles and a stage manager AND a production designer.

The director also is surveying the cast for which weekend day we'll surrender for a full, regular run-through of the play. It seems like we're only rehearsing Tuesday through Wednesday, and the director wants to avoid Monday. Because of schedule hiccups, we're doing Act Two on Tuesday, Act One on Monday, and then Act Three the last day. I'd rather do the run-through on Friday and give myself the full weekend at home.

Instead of becoming worried about this show, I'm instead almost disturbingly determined to be the best part about it. If nothing else, the folks spending their time and money to see this play will enjoy watching me. I will not let this show become a waste of time for me or them.

Saturday morning, I hit the garden. We had piled deadwood on top of the dead blackberry bushes in hopes of burning everything. But the state is under a burning ban stretching back to spring. Now we hope to make mulch using a wood chipper. I pruned away the sprawling vines atop the wood, then moved the wood to the previously cleared garden patch. This will make for a shorter and cheaper worktime when I rent a chipper. Now I have to dig up the stubborn root balls in the other half of the garden, clear the ground cover, and ready the soil for next year's crops. It's becoming a regular Saturday activity, and I'd be less inclined to do this if there were any decent cartoons on at the time.

I then watched a convergence of horrors that kept me from my first win in fantasy football.

Picture of the Day
Best t-shirt ever? Mayhap.