Letters to Holly

Friday, October 26

Countdown: Five Rehearsals

I forgo the suit jacket and focus instead on lines. The costume rack hasn't changed since our initial experiments, and the suit I tried on doesn't have any new pants for me to wear. I think the gray suit will be my costume by default. The gangster actor (with whom I share a scene in Act Three) asks if he can try a deliberate pause to antagonize my character. I'm fine with it, but I warn him to let the line reader know or the latter will think he's blanked on a line. Just after this, the director tells us all to look for pauses in our lines, to milk the drama. This will hopefully make us react better instead of jumping in with our lines.

On the first run, and there's no way to be humble about this, we bring the noise. I have my best Act Three yet, Right up until the closing argument where I get a bit tongue-tied and get trigger happy with my fingers. By and large, we're off book and sailing through. For some reason, Doc doesn't stand for his objections, and the judge likewise soft-sells his rulings (and can't remember his lines. Shock.). We don't have our dancer actress, and the director reads her part. Speaking of not being there, Act Three ends with all the witnesses standing up to recite a crucial piece of their testimony. This is a time-killer while the jury deliberates. But we have never had all the cast there to do this bit, and I worry about timing and memorization. We'll need to practice this a lot probably. I mean the royal "we;" the attorneys say nothing after their closing arguments.

The defendant tries on wigs during the break, but she may cut her hair for a 1930s style. I'm still sporting a beard, and I'll ask the director again if she wants it cut. The second run through does not go well for Doc, and he shuts down during his closing argument. The director asks him if he wants to sit, and he chooses to fight through it. Good for him. The dancer arrives later and tries out her costume (low of cut, high of heel). I have what I consider a solid second run. maybe the "stale" comment helped. Actually, no, it didn't. This is the big act for everybody, and we're just playing up the appropriate levels of emotion here. I'm really feeling the closing argument again, and along with it comes the determination to not lose this case.

The theatre has its annual awards banquet Friday night, and that pushes our usual rehearsal to Saturday. I'm not going because I'm not part of this gang, and will enjoy the rare bachelor night as the missus heads out of town. I'll run some lines as I bandy about the house, maybe strap the cats to a chair and cross-examine them.

Official play website

Rehearsals
Countdown: Six Rehearsals
Countdown: Seven Rehearsals
Clock is Ticking
My Big Speech
Punching a Cop Is Bad, Right?

Act Two Redux
Friday Through Sunday
Eggshells
Drama!
Getting Serious
Our First Friday
Act Three Lines
Dusting Off Act One
Line Trouble
End of Second Week
'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
He wants to rock and roll all night and fingerpaint all day.

Thursday, October 25

Countdown: Six Rehearsals

So here's how the night starts. My tummy is all like "abandon ship," and the clock is all "you're running late for rehearsal," and my theatre reflex is all "Immodium sandwich, now!," and the wife is like "are you OK?," and the little Italian guys who man the switches and levers in my head are like "mama mia! Mrs. Fields cookies are home-baked a-death-a." So I Immodiumize* and drive like the wind and get to the warehouse in record time. And there's no cop or PI, both necessary Act One characters. Turns out the PI is home sick, but this was to be the first night of our young cop, cast just a week ago and not seen since.

*When I did shows in Greenville, I popped an Immodium before every performance. It staved off concerns of onstage discomfort, but I wonder what it did to my innards. In any case, Immodium is an actor's best friend when he's onstage for a half-hour at a time.

We're told the Sunday night rehearsal will be at night at the courthouse, and then there is discussion about who is supposed to make sure we can get in there. We might have an attorney there to help our protocol, and I think I know the guy. I'll be comfortable asking him for details, but, then again, what might be accurate might not be right for this show. Because we're performing in a courthouse, it's hard to say what balance between reality and art we can strike.

Also, we'll have a cast party immediately after the last show, and that means it won't be at our place as the wife had hoped. We'll need to give the names of our final rehearsal guests to ... I'm not sure. The box office? The courthouse security? It's unclear. I don't expect anyone to attend for me except maybe the missus. Or she might stay home and protect the home from Halloween vandals.

I start my opening argument with a clogged throat, and the director asks me to really sell the phrase "disfigured mass" when describing the defenestrated cadaver. We later joke about my wiping off the sole of my foot to pantomime his consistency, and then we riff on the jury or clerk getting sick and out would walk Carol Burnett's maid character. There's a lot of chat offstage, and it's distracting. And a tad rude, to be honest. I stop my argument to halfway turn to the noise, hoping the folks might notice and stop, but they don't. I take a breath and continue. Louder. I glance over to the director later in the rehearsal and see the first guy who rad for the cop last week, the one who improvised wackiness. And I hope he isn't here to replace the young guy who we haven't heard from. The medical examiner reads for the private eye.

Just as we're getting to his scene, in walks the young cop actor. He walks to the witness stand without his script, and I start the scene. And damn if he doesn't have it memorized. Not totally. He has about 90 percent of it. But still! In one week, he hammered that script into his brain. The judge hasn't done that with his month of rehearsals. The cop shakes with nerves when I hand him the prop letter (a fake suicide note, perhaps), but it only helps the character. He asks for lines a few times, but it's clear he knows the lines; they're just nestled deep in the memory. The scene ends, and he walks back to his seat, and I give him a "good job." I'm genuinely impressed and relieved. He stepped up for us. Unfortunately, he leaves before the second run-through. The widow actress works off cards in a few lines, but she has more dialogue and was given the part only a few weeks ago. She's doing fine.

Between practices, the Act One maid tries on a costume, the bailiff and I talk about the annual Halloween 5k. He was there last year, but neither can make this year's run because of rehearsal. He tells me I'm doing an "amazing" job with the attorney, and I thank him. He's also the line reader, so he knows how well I stick to or stray from the lines. I miss two lines tonight.

I really want to wear a suit jacket starting Thursday to work on my posture and gait. I worry that I fidget with my hand choreography. I play with line delivery to play up exchanges with different characters. And I do very well in the second run. The second is always better, whihc means i need to get into my groove earlier so the first run can snap too.

Unfortunately, as I leave, the director pulls me aside and tells me that I was "stale." And this is a surprise jab. She suggests I play with inflections, and I offer that I'll wear a jacket tomorrow to help me stay in character. But as I drive off, I'm steamed. And as I type this, I'm still steamed. I won't be a diva about this, and flat practices are common as opening nights approach.

Having said that, Jesus Christ, I'm doing some heavy lifting with lines, I don't have a full cast to work against, I'm acting opposite people reading off scripts, I have to pause to remind the judge to say his lines (who restarted his five-line monologue three times at the start of the night), we've done Act One seemingly three times as often as the other acts, we open in a week, and maybe she's misreading my low-key delivery as a symptom of boredom. Act One is drab. It's all set-up. The fireworks come in the later acts. I can't hit high notes for the entire play. I'll be shrill and irritating to the audience.

Maybe she's trying to shake me up to give a knockout practice tonight. Maybe. I'll carry that notion today and see if it helps. But I'm still steamed.

Official play website

Rehearsals
Countdown: Seven Rehearsals
Clock is Ticking
My Big Speech
Punching a Cop Is Bad, Right?

Act Two Redux
Friday Through Sunday
Eggshells
Drama!
Getting Serious
Our First Friday
Act Three Lines
Dusting Off Act One
Line Trouble
End of Second Week
'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
Maybe I can be a robot lawyer.

Wednesday, October 24

Countdown: Seven Rehearsals

Yes, that's all we have left before we start charging folks for the privilege of sitting on courtroom seats for almost three hours. And I don't think we've considered that we might not get 12 people to fill a jury every night. I remember watching the Shenandoah Shakespeare productions -- where they invite stage sitting in the custom of Will's day -- and even in large audiences, there wasn't a stampede to be visible by everyone in the room and possibly involved in the proceedings. I like the idea of an audience jury, and the script calls for this device. Still, I wonder if the powers that be have thought of contingencies.

Tonight is Act Two, the shortest act. It starts off with my DA questioning the Swedish housekeeper who witnessed the defendant loving up a man possibly involved in the murder. I then call up the father-in-law of the deceased for character testimony. The defense takes over and calls up the arrogant Swedish bookkeeper (the other role I would have liked) and then the defendant. The act ends when the gangster accomplice barges in and tells her the fake-suicide conspiracy is sunk; the man she's accused of killing has actually been killed by someone else, maybe the father-in-law.

We don't have the gangster or housekeeper tonight. I'm not smooth in the first run, and I think it's because there's no preparation time. I arrive, we chat, and we get to work. There's no chance to get into character. It's frustrating. I read the script over supper and thought I had reminded myself of script pitfalls. I had to find line tricks in the script to help me remember changes of subject. Two consecutive but unrelated lines contain the words "fact" and "act," and I use that rhyme to remind me of the second bit of dialogue. Other such combos include "grateful/guess" and "dear/devotion." I focus on these lines now that I've hopefully, probably, allegedly nailed down the rest of the script. I settle down in time to cross examine the bookkeeper. Both the defense attorney and defendant are stronger with their lines tonight.

You may be comforted by the small things that don't change, like the judge's inability to say his lines on cue even when reading the script. He's sitting at a simple table for these rehearsals, and I'm standing most of the time. I can see him flip pages at the appropriate time yet miss his cue to speak. He realizes the problem after we've moved on, grabs his gavel as if to rap for his judgment, mutters a feeble protest/alibi, and quietly puts the gavel down now that we're five lines past his moment. He says he'll have the script during the play (the audience won't see his elevated tabletop), but that means nothing, apparently.

We're told to milk a moment before reacting en masse, and we try that to the director's satisfaction. I also try to give myself a wider stance to make my posture more distinct from the other attorney's. We';re told that the theatre will hand out two complimentary tickets to each of us for the final dress rehearsal which will be open to friends and family. Unfortunately, this is on Halloween, and virtually every parent will be escorting their ghouls on candy ransoms. I really wish we'd skip that night and rehearse on Nov. 1, the last night before we open.

I'm much stronger in the second run and the bailiff/line reader compliments me as we call it a night. We manage to stay on track despite ringing phones and torrential rain slapping our metal roof, and that's encouraging.

Official play website


Rehearsals
Clock is Ticking
My Big Speech
Punching a Cop Is Bad, Right?

Act Two Redux
Friday Through Sunday
Eggshells
Drama!
Getting Serious
Our First Friday
Act Three Lines
Dusting Off Act One
Line Trouble
End of Second Week
'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

I imagine Boston is all a'flutter for tonight's game. I'd watch if I weren't pretending to be a lawyer. Your Sis and I are two weeks behind in watching House, but the new season is good and fast.

Picture of the Day
British sports headline.

Tuesday, October 23

The Little Things

As San Diego burns, and Atlanta and Durham subsist on quickly dwindling water (less than 90 days' worth for each town), we're getting constant rain and cooler weather. Fall is creeping upon us.

We considered a jack o'lantern party for this Saturday, but I was afraid we'd have a rehearsal shoehorned in that day, and indeed we now do. Your Sis itches to throw a party and asks me about hosting a cast party. Shouldn't be a problem. If they attend this as well as they do rehearsals, we'll only have about six people show up.

I have the itch to run again, and I'm assuring myself that I have only three weeks left until the play is over. That seems pretty short, but that notion will be destroyed by the upcoming week of full-length rehearsals, including the always hellish tech rehearsal and a pre-opening family attendance night. I ran lines during this three-day break and checked the script to correct some accidental word replacement ("loyalty" instead of "admiration," etc.).

The NFL Contest
HER PICKS
NFC: New Orleans (2-4), St. Louis (0-7)
AFC: Indianapolis (6-0), New England (6-0)

MY PICKS
NFC: New Orleans (2-4), Carolina (4-2)
AFC: New England (7-0), San Diego (3-3)

Such a weird year in the NFL. Two teams are undefeated, two teams have no wins; Miami could got the whole year without a win with no QB or RB, and they play in London next weekend. This is the NFL's first regular season game in Europe, and it oddly follows the shuttering of the European wing of the NFL.

I won my fantasy league thanks to a savvy free-agent acquisition and Tom Brady casually throwing up ungodly numbers every week.

Picture of the Day
What kind of kids love Armour hot dogs?

Monday, October 22

The Clock is Ticking

I met Your Sis at home before going to the play, and she again volunteered to read the cop at rehearsal. Now this is a spouse trap. If I say "no," it sounds like I don't want her involved. If I say "yes," I risk whatever standing I have at the theatre. The director doesn't need the lead actor (which, I am by default) injecting his wife into a rehearsal just two weeks before we open. Now, yes, we still have no cop. Didn't have one tonight, and we needed a reader. But I didn't want it to be her, and it was for purely professional reasons. Reading against the wifey would be fun. Just not now.

We're in the hot stretch. We have six scheduled practices left. Six. And this role isn't cast. I've read and recited against virtually every male actor who stuck around, and a few of the womenfolk. I need some consistency to help me with lines and acting. If that means I get it from someone not my wife, so be it. This is something we could have done a month ago, but not now. Not this soon before we open. Oh, yes, sure, she's welcome to come watch. Come see what we're looking at six practices away from opening night. But she declined, said that if she wasn't reading, she'd probably fall over asleep. Because the week had been rough, not because we'd bore her to death.

Breaking news: The director has just added another rehearsal next weekend, a full run-through. So re-read the above stuff and insert the word "seven."

Friday's practice is the whole thing, too. The director is trying to hammer out the transitions between acts as we're not on a stage, and we have no curtain to draw down. She settles for a short lights-out moment to allow some of the actors to leave. The script allows for this by ending the acts with judge closing the court for the day. But it lacks drama. Again, tonight, we do not have a full cast., but this is the first time I'm trying the whole play without opening my script. The stage manager will read lines if requested, but they won't cue us automatically. We're to attempt to salvage a line before we call for help. I stumble a bit in the opening argument, but I don't call for help and I blame it on a lack of preparation time. That's purely my fault. I should have settled down in my station earlier. I try to talk slower and make every word work for me without falling into monotone. I've started to write out the list of each witness for the three acts and scratch them out after questioning them. It gives me tangible progression during the play.

I do OK, calling for help only twice: Once because I completely blanked on a line and the other for clarification on the wording. I also add a few too many "please"s as I hand evidence to witnesses for identification. There's a tiny stumble in the closing argument, but the monologue held the room. By this I mean I could feel the attention focus on me, not just out of courtesy but with intensity. It's a nice feeling, but you can't milk it. The audience will retract quickly. It went well and left me exhausted as the rehearsal closed. The dancer actress also brought out the heavy lumber in a five-page role where she's all over the emotional map. A proposed Sunday rehearsal falls through. We had one scheduled originally, but the theatre scheduled the auditions for A Christmas Carol that same day and time. I'm relieved. We're doing full-run-throughs more as we approach opening night, and those things will wear me out.

Four of us -- the PI, the defendant, and handwriting expert, and I -- went drinking after and had a cozy, breezy night here in Mayberrry. I had no idea the bar scene was so lively (or loud) at this time of night.

Your Sis and I attended an Oktoberfest cookout Saturday night that went just dandy until the cops broke it up. We had a firepit going, and the state is under a burning ban because of drought. The cranky next-door neighbor complained, and to thank him, our friends balsted their halogen worklights at his window all night.

Official play website

Rehearsals
My Big Speech
Punching a Cop Is Bad, Right?

Act Two Redux
Friday Through Sunday
Eggshells
Drama!
Getting Serious
Our First Friday
Act Three Lines
Dusting Off Act One
Line Trouble
End of Second Week
'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
Comics used to be much more fun.