She was worried, as they all were at first, that the mom would be wizened and senile. She isn't. She's spoiled. She works her daughters to her benefit and realizes in the play that she's losing that. That's why she pouts and cajoles and feigns a heart attack. She's not stupid. Or goofy. She's desperate.
I worry that the stage dimensions will make our movements look pinched, but I don't want to sweep across the stage just for the sake of using every inch. I do want to let the blocking breathe more. The performance space we had originally was tight and made for stylized movement. Now we can spread out. I'll have to get the actors to walk and talk. If they move, stop, and then talk, the humor will be dead.
We'll meet twice more this week to give the new actress her movements (they help cement line memorization), and we won't touch a prop until next week. She needs time to learn the lines, but I don't want the cast burned out. I prefer to plan for lots of rehearsals and eliminate days if we're on a good groove. I also think that rewards the cast for doing heavy lifting early on.
+ + +
The piano tuner is fixing up my Granny's piano as I type this, and Your Sister's school laptop has died. She is going to buy herself one and is considering a Mac. I suggested she ask you for tips. She'll need the magic double-OS program to run school-based Windows programs.
I set up a voice-chat program on my computer last night and configured my home iTunes to download podcasts. No more schlepping them from work to put on my iPod. I feel myself adhering to the new high-speed online access.
Picture of the Day
Another photo of the memorial lanterns set alight after the Indonesian tsunami. The heat of the candles lift them to the air.