My Big Speech

Here's what I got off iTunes with my bestowed freebie points:

Teenagers - My Chemical Romance
I thought it'd go well on the next mix CD for Your Sis. It's one of those songs that should be the product of a completely different band. This sounds like an old-school Aerosmith song with a Georgia Satellite guitar solo.

I'm Shipping Up to Boston - Dropkick Murphys
This is from the Departed soundtrack. She commented on this song during the film. I imagine you hear this song once a day.

Something About You - Level 42
Level 42 was of those '80s bands that were only able to align their musical stars once or twice. Squeeze was the same way. Their best-of collections are a bewildering mass of weak efforts. And then you hear the big songs, and it's as if someone else stepped in to arrange their elements in the magical combination to produce Good Pop Music. Now, Simple Minds, there was a band who made nothing but good stuff, although they're only known for Don't You Forget About Me. Their best-of anthology is quality from track to track. This was Level 42's first and biggest song, and it's a standout of the decade's British sythnesizer tunes.

Space Age Love Song - A Flock of Seagulls
The better of the band's two hits, eclipsed eternally by I Ran. There's nothing wrong with that song; in fact, it's a great rock song. But I like this ballad a lot. It has that sustained tone that punctuated the better '80s songs.

Stronger - Kanye West
Yes, the song I discovered in Washington during your time with us. It is a long tune -- over 5 minutes -- and I that was my impression when I saw the video. It sounds like the only banger from his latest CD.

Last week, I also bought the new Annie Lennox CD and managed to download the new Radiohead from their pay-as-you-will experiment. This new stuff is a tight collection, stronger than Hail to the Thief and maybe their best collection since OK Computer.

We run Act Three on Thursdays, but we don’t have the defendant tonight. She doesn’t call in to say she’s late or won’t make it. The first housekeeper reads her lines instead, and the change of rhythm shakes me off a few lines. She hasn’t seen this scene performed and, at one point, she leaves the witness stand to talk to the gangster. I stumble on a few lines but pick it back up.

What I’m most concerned with is the closing argument, the long monologue written with desperation to keep the jury from buying the conspiracy theory. I almost, almost nail it. I hesitate on one line because my brain didn’t connect the visual pieces of the script. I thought I had missed a line. I hadn’t; I just didn’t assemble those pieces. But I notice as I’m reciting the lines that it works better aloud than it does on the page. I’m not thrilled with the adamant vocal cues – italics or all caps – but when I say the lines, those cues work and work well. The closing speech is a testament to facts and logic, a clear opposition to the defense attorney’s plea for the jury to look within their souls and hearts. But because my character relies so heavily on the initial facts, he becomes emotional about their strength, but the script doesn’t give him the crack that makes him unhinged. He’s barely restrained, but clearly invested in the conclusion of this case. It’s a strong ending to the play, and I wonder if it’s designed to sway the jury to his cold position. This is an Ayn Rand show, after all.

In between practices, we’re told to not telegraph our emotions. I suspect this happens as lawyers prepare to leap up for their objections. I also hear the actor/photographer who sparked the distress last week plead his point to the other actors. He wants to replicate what earlier shows did, and provide the lawyers with their scripts disguised as legal papers at their tables. He said the last production of this show with this theatre directed the lawyer secretaries to keep the current play script page on the table for the lawyer to pick up if he needed it. He doesn’t want us to memorize the proceedings, saying it’s not realistic.

Me, I’m ambivalent about it. I plant to have the witness list on my legal pad and scratch them off or make script notes while the other attorney works his lines. This is what I do now instead of reading my script. But I don’t want to have the script onstage, not when I have the lines down so well (let’s say 98 percent at this point). He also tells us the actor playing the Swedish bookkeeper played the role in the ‘70s when this show was first mounted. When we do the second run, he becomes so engrossed in his Dean Koontz book that he misses both his cue to run onstage and the repeated calls for his character by the director. We all laugh it off.

The judge is trying to memorize his lines, but he’s having difficulty, and again, there’s no reason why he can’t have his script in front of him. The audience can’t see it. I do get a comment from another actor that I may talk too fast for the audience to follow, and that’s a complaint I’ve gotten before. I was worried about it, and I work on it during the second run. I notice my voice gets deeper as my guy becomes more indignant. The line readers are passive tonight, and I notice in my scene with the gangster that I forgot some lines. I stop the scene, apologize, and go back to add those lines. In other parts of the act, I hear and see the script pages flip, and I’m able to visually remember exactly where we are in the script, and those lines come easy.

On the second run, the closing argument practically becomes the St. Crispin speech from Henry V. It is unquestionably the most fun part of my lines. I now suddenly love this monologue. And it’s the last thing I say. It’s my big ending.

Official play website

Rehearsals
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
Grr. Flaming Attorney smash puny defendant!

Punching a Cop is Bad, Right?

Your Siblings talked last night. The new baby is well, and things seemed to be settled between Your Folks and Your Brother. I'm surprised to learn some things Your Mom said. Apparently she refused to pay for their hotel room, and Your Brother and I had the same reaction: Didn't they just go to Africa? Aren't they planning a cruise in the winter?

It was a long day at work, and I arrive at the rehearsal after a very quick dinner on the road. As I walk in, there's a new guy sitting on the witness stand reading the script. The director explains that he's trying out for the rookie cop and asks me to say my lines opposite him. But as we do the scene, he adds goofy stuff to every line.

Apparently, the director explained it's to be a comedy role (as designed), and he interpreted this to mean he should insert funny, and his style of funny is "wacky." He's improvising all over the place, and he's not giving me time to say my lines. And when he does stop talking, he's giving me the '90s comic stare, expecting me to crack up and be charmed by this. Instead, I want ever so much to deck him. It has been a bad day, and he's not helping. I look to the director, who eventually reigns him in, and we finish the scene. When he's through, he admits he's never acted before, and he's not sure he can memorize all these lines. His character has seven pages, but no blocking, and all he does is answer questions. It's feasible.

The director brings in another to read, a much younger kid who's making a detour on his pizza delivery gig. The defendant knows him, and he does look the part. He reads just fine, but admits he's not sure if his boss will let him off for the rehearsals. We do Friday and Sunday work, and he's sure to lose a chunk of paycheck if he does this part. It might not be worth it to him even if his boss relents. Then again, the director might play the part anyway.

Then we begin the rehearsal. We're collectively improving by relying on the line-readers. It's funny how we'll hit a dead spot in our memory and try to stumble forward with what we think we're supposed to say. We'll slowly offer words as we look to the reader and watch him nod silently to say we're on the right track.

The first housekeeper is trying out her character's mannerisms and speaking voice, and I step all over her lines in the first run-through. The medical examiner reads for the cop here also. Brick if off-book and comfortable already, but the widow has transcribed her lines to index cards as Doc did. I wonder if this is really that big a difference than reading the script. I mean, whatever helps them is fine. We all have different tricks. The first cop applicant reds as the cop in the second run-through, and he sticks to the script this time.

I've memorized the closing argument to about 98 percent fidelity, and I'm roughly 99 percent steady on the whole script. I've turned that corner where my mental impression of the script is much smaller than when I first picked it up. I feel good about where I am and look forward to belting out the closing argument in Thursday's practice.

Official play website

Rehearsals
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
I think he's flashing us.

Act Two Redux

I'm not saying I'm sold on the idea of the cleaning lady, but I could get spoiled by her. She did a nice job, but my happiness with her work is mirrored by the shame of seeing how badly I let my house go. A responsible adult shouldn't need to pay someone to sweep up the cat hair, you know? TWO responsible adults shouldn't need a third. I haven't found anything missing yet, so maybe she isn't going to eBay my toys.

Tonight's rehearsal is for Act Two, and while I read over that part before supper, I made myself promise I wouldn't open the script during the run-through. This is the quickest, easiest chunk of the play for me. I don't need the script, no matter what my anxieties say. All the principals for the act are here, except the bailiff, and everyone is off-book. Doc and the defendant, have the hardest time, but they have the notions of what they're supposed to say. The helpful script reader keeps us straight. The Swedish housekeeper is employing a stammer, possibly unintentional, that throws me off for my lines with her. We work over the dramatic entrance of the gangster at the end of the act.

I find that without the script and with a dictated confidence that I'm now focusing on hand gestures and choreographed hand/hip placement. I also now have table props including actual copies of New York warrants and a fountain pen so I can fake note-taking. This gives me some business for when I stand up and call or interrogate witnesses. Flint is assembling around me simply by using the space around him.

I still get comments about all my memorization, and I explain it's sparked by fear. And it is. We're rehearsing for a space we won't see for another week and reliant on an audience-culled jury to behave themselves. The only things I can control are my lines and demeanor. I must be prepared to improv throughout the play. I've already scripted out what I can do if Doc loses his lines by calling for a sidebar with the judge. The judge can read him his lines from the script he'll no doubt have on hand. For instance, Doc continues to call for his first witness and forgets he's supposed to talk to him first. He sits at his table and tries to cue me to stand up and get going. He's also started to poke me during one of the lawyer arguments. I'm not sure how to respond to that. I'm positive that would be cause for a contempt citation on a real court. Maybe I should take out my pocket square and wipe away his assuredly dingy finger residue.

Official play website

Rehearsals
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
The Golden Girls are shockingly popular online.

Domestic Material

I managed to install the door lock backward, and the bolt would slip free of the strike plate even if the knob was locked. I drove out to Lowe's thinking I needed to get a left-hand lock. None of the locks were labeled as designed for either side of a door, but as I looked over the knob pieces, I figured out that I could simply take everything apart, turn the lock assembly upside down, and reassemble the knob. And I did. So now the cleaning lady, who as I write this is probably rifling through my coin jars, cannot get inside my workshop unless she also possesses cat burglar skills.

Also as I type, I assume we now have a new niece. Your Parents were scheduled to drive down to be there for the cesarean, but I've heard nothing about how it went. This would be a good time for Your Mom to calm the waters over Thanksgiving. Your Sis called Your Brother this weekend and left a message. I don't think she's heard back yet, but he might be a scoash busy.

I memorized the second page of my closing monologue and almost completed the third before my mind closed up shop for the night. I had reached my cognition quota for the day. And then I ate pie.

I won my second week of fantasy football, making me 2-4 for the season.

Picture-Accompanied Spontaneous Poetry of the Day
Jupiter beckons.

There are no plays on Jupiter.
There are no telemarketers there.
No alarms and potholes and tags.

It's a giant ball of cold and cloud.
And probably smells like a goat.
A goat 20 times the size of the earth.
Who wouldn't want to gaze upon that?

If such a thing existed, you'd find it only there.
In the dark and quiet and still.

Jupiter beckons.

Friday Through Sunday

I spent my dinner Friday night gobbling supper and checking the script before running into the rehearsal late. The usual cadre is there waiting, and I walk from the door to the attorney's table, and we start about a minute later. I'm worn out from practice and work stuff. I blank on the third line of the opening argument, but our new stage manager feeds me the line. I have to ask for small lines throughout the run-through (we're doing the whole play tonight, and of course we're missing people). There are some parts of the dialogue that I'm saying aloud totally by habit. I have no idea what my line is supposed to be but I hear myself saying the right stuff while the passenger in my brain marvels at what can only be muscle memory.

I cram over Act Two between the acts. I'm starting to develop a nice rapport with the Swedish housekeeper and the gangster. He and I are plotting at how to make the most of what we assume would be a throughly hate-filled relationship. The Brick actor is already off-book for the PI role, and the new widow actress is hitting her emotional moments well. Whenever Doc blanks on his lines and is reminded offstage, he yells "awh!" as if the revived memory is blasted into him from across the room.

Saturday was my college homecoming (15 years), and of course no one else from my class is there. We stroll the campus for about two hours, I show You Sis all my haunts and stories, and we find one of my yearbooks to thumb through. We do this every year; it has to bore her senseless. I stretch my guy muscles after by installing new toilet seats at home and changing out my workshop door handle with a knob lock.

I have to do this last part because, and I'd never thought I'd say this, we're hiring a cleaning lady. The woman lost a client to a nursing home, and she works for a fellow teacher. Your Sis offered to take her one every other week to help us tidy. But I ad paranoid, and I don't like having a stranger in my house when I'm not there. Because I have anxiety about strangers ebaying all my geek stuff, I'm locking up my workshop while she's there. Your Sis doesn't want me doing all the housework, and school is taking up the vast majority of her home time. And as my objections are founded on neurosis, I don't have much of a footing to oppose this. Good luck to the new lady for cleaning cat hair every other week.

The Sunday rehearsal unfortunately kept me from watching the much-vaunted Dallas/New England game live, but I did TiFaux it while I had another whole-play runthrough. Because this was added so late in the practice schedule, a lot of people couldn't make it apparently. Doc gave up tickets to another theatre show to be here. And as we begin Act One, it's the two of us, the gangster, the father-in-law, the clerk, the bailiff, and the medical examiner. That's all the actors. My brain hurts from reviewing the script for more than an hour before we begin. Doc is exhausted and annoyed at the scheduling. I can do a bit more acting and less reciting. I'm distracted by my rumbling stomach, and drinking about a gallon of water between lines doesn't help.

We run Act One with lots of substitutions, and when Act Two starts, we're down to the attorneys, the gangster and the father-in-law. That's it. The bailiff and ME are allowed to go home to watch the game. That leaves the four actors who already best know their lines. I don't think this day improved us in any way. Halfway through, I could have spit nails. I'm not batting a thousand on my lines, but we still have 12 rehearsals to go, and I'm on schedule to memorize all my lines by Tuesday. These consecutive full-play runs will make the act-specific practices seem easy by comparison.

I was comforted when I got home by a per pie. I don't normally like pears. They taste like the bad parts of apples and potatoes. But when pears are baked, my my my, think I'll have twelve helpings. Your Sis did that while I was yelling at gangsters.

Official play website

Rehearsals
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

The NFL Contest
HER PICKS
NFC: New Orleans (1-4), St. Louis (0-6)
AFC: Indianapolis (5-0), New England (5-0)

MY PICKS
NFC: New Orleans (1-4), Carolina (4-2)
AFC: New England (5-0), San Diego (3-3)

New England went off on Dallas yesterday, helping me to an almost certain fantasy victory (my opponent had a team playing tonight).

Picture of the Day
Maybe I need a monster roller derby.

Eggshells

The accusatory emails petered off after I contacted both parties and asked for discretion. Apparently what happened was this: The actor, who revealed he had worked previous versions of this show, made whispered directorial suggestions to other actors Wednesday night, and the director caught wind of them. She didn't appreciate the back-seat driving and let fly in the emails. He fired back. I find out after rehearsals tonight that the director was tempted to cancel the show based on his comments. But, keep in mind that she's been virtually abandoned by the crew. The producer's out, the assistant director quit, and we have actors who have passively quit by simply not showing up.

I can't blame her for wanting to dump the show. And if we do this -- if we simply call it a night -- it needs to be sooner rather than nearer to showtime. I don't want to see my work go for naught, but I can't say I'm surprised by it. I had trepidation of working with this company, and everything began here with a last-minute change of productions. This show requires a sizable cast, and this follows a show with another large cast. It's adventurous to mount two big shows consecutively, and our director, from what I can see, is a lone captain. She still has to fill roles, and we're three weeks from the curtain going up.

Tonight, everything seems OK when we assemble. The actor/photographer is setting up another publicity image. The cast takes the room's temperature, and we agree silently that things are calm. It's possible that this was a needed pressure release. The director apologizes to me if I was offended by the online argument, and I sincerely say that isn't the case. I don't use the script for the majority of tonight's Act Three but do pick it up for the last ten pages. I'm going to memorize those this weekend. Because most of us are trying to work offscript (and mostly succeeding) we start acting, instead of merely reciting, and there are genuine moments of tension. The defendant, especially, is doing some heavy lifting in my cross-examination. Doc is obviously studying his closing argument.

As the actor/photographer takes the stand, he raps the attorney table in character, and the director compliments him. So far, so peaceful. We are told later to pretend the gun is heavier so it doesn't look like a toy. I worry that my projection limits the variety of my enunciation. I'll work on that starting next week. I want each examination to be distinct as the play progresses. In this last act, particularly (as the murder conspiracy is revealed and the case threatens to unravel) my guy has to, well, he has to mirror the director. He's got to keep his argument together even, and I enjoy this, even if it's not the true version of events. He gets more dramatic, more aggressive. By the end of the play, he's desperate to put away the defendant because of her perceived moral decadence instead of whether she killed someone.

I have trouble with the gun's serial number, CC3490, and it continues to come out of my mouth in a jumble of syllables. It makes us all goofy. These things happen all the time in rehearsals. We run a bit late tonight, but we repeat segments of the act to get timing and delivery correct. The judge, try as he might (or might not) still doesn't know what page we're on half the time.

Tonight is a full-play runthrough, and I will appreciate having Saturday off. I haven't seen much of Your Sister this week. Unfortunately, we start Sunday practices this weekend.

Official play website

Rehearsals
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
Auntie Em!

Drama!

We have an early call time to take playbill headshots. I eat a heavy Mexican lunch around 2 because I won't have time for supper before or during rehearsal, and I use the lunch to go over Act One lines. When we arrive, the actor playing the father-in-law insists on taking publicity photos. I didn't get word about this before, and I have no costume to wear. I took my suit back home.

Now this is the guy who was off-book first with his lines and presented a very professional attitude, but now he's anxious. He seems to be in a big hurry, which would be understandable if he had to get the pics to the newspaper tonight, but the paper prints and mails on Wednesdays. He can't possibly make the last paper of the week tonight. I change into the top half of the suit I tried on last week. He sets up the shots he wants with the defendant, gangster, and both attorneys. And one of the guns we pick up from the prop room basket of toy guns. It's hard to understand just what kind of positions he wants, and it takes him a while to set us up. And this doesn't help his anxiety. He also apparently has a burgeoning grudge with the director over his ideas for how things should be. In a recent email, the director threatened to quit if he doesn't knock it off. Yes, please, let's make this production more difficult. As I type this, emails between the two continue to fly by, and they apparently don't know how to turn off the "group mailing" option.

I get my headshot taken between publicity photos. We don't have all the cast here. Again. Oddly enough, at least one Act One actor shows up for the headshot but then leaves for the night before she can rehearse. We again have no cop or widow, played by two students from the local college. We haven't see them in a week. Brick from Cat is here, however, dressed in a suit he owns, and he very much look the part of the PI. He also reads it very well. We chat before rehearsal and talk about the play and doings at the theatre where we performed before. I probably won't do another play until Spring, and that might be the Schoolhouse Rock musical. It's too enticing to let go by.

I do Act One (35 pages) without my script and call for lines a few times. Luckily, I have the other actors to bail me out. I have trouble with the small lines ("that's all" versus "your witness," etc.), but I can hit the major points of conversation. Because the first housekeeper and the cop and the widow are absent, the gal playing my secretary again reads those parts. Later on, the defendant's real-life son pitches in, adopting a high falsetto for the housekeeper lines.

We're about four lines into the widow scene when the director enters the room, points dramatically to my secretary reading on the witness stand, and says "you're our widow." And just like that, the gal who has been there virtually every night even though she has no speaking lines gets a speaking role because the first actress flaked out on us. And both deserve what they get. This also now pits the secretary actress and the defendant against each other, and as old friends, they relish it. Their end of the act staredown now has ten times the cattiness. They trade wigs and try on dresses between their lines.

Official play website

Rehearsals
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

Pictures of the Day
That's the gangster on the left. I'm standing intentionally in front of a wall socket to hide it.

Getting Serious

The Friday rehearsal, and the absence of so many, forced the director to add Sunday rehearsals, something I had hoped to avoid. I do agree that we need more focused rehearsals, but I'd argue for doing more with our weeknights. We're still rehearsing just one act each night, and we should tackle at least two of the three acts instead. A mid-day email laid down the law on actors appearing for rehearsals and focused on the youngsters. She can only refer to the two college kids, but we've also had plenty of the older actors not show up. For instance, the new clerk isn't here tonight. I haven't seen the medical examiner in about a week. The girl who plays the secretary -- and has no lines -- has shown up like clockwork, reading lines for the missing actors. I'd seriously consider giving her one of the speaking roles and demoting someone to her role. The housekeeper from act one shows up tonight and wants to run her scene, but it's from Act One, and I didn't prepare for that. We run it, and I do passably well, I suppose.

I spent the later afternoon going over my Act Two lines. It's the smallest amount of dialogue I have, and it should be the first act I can do from memory. But I screw up at the rehearsals. I don't have my script in hand (hoping to avoid the crutch), and I blank twice when talking to two witnesses. I'm not relying on cue lines for my stuff, and I stumble when the other actors pause to search for words. They were also off book. The new calendars tell us we have 16 scheduled rehearsals before we open, and I want to be off script as soon as possible. I do notice a change in stride and posture. I'm upright, more confident. I'm getting lawyery. The defendant actress has her script at hand, but she's using it as little as possible. What we really need is someone to read along and give us lines when asked. The judge could do it, and it would force him to follow along for his lines. I'm still considering making a script tape for my commute. When I'm sitting at the attorney table, I frantically review my script.

We speak a little on costumes beforehand, and I tell the director what the costumer told me. I'm not giving up on my $5 suit. I try on another jacket, and it's too big for me. Thank God, too. It's heavy and thick, and would kill me if I wore it for three hours each night. The secretary and the defendant want the same pair of shoes, and the secretary eventually wins them by the end of the night.

I'm taking a rare lunch break today to go over Act One. I want to do it fully off script.

I should also note that the cast is agog by my many geeky t-shirts. We spend some time each night talking about them.

Official play website

Rehearsals
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
Emma Peel. Just 'cause.

Our First Friday

The first Friday night complete-play rehearsal coincided with homecoming at Your Sister's school. We knew my secretary wasn't going to be here. But when we start Act One, we are missing five witnesses just from the first act. One is gone for another weeklong trip. The others just no-showed. When I stand up to call the third missing character, the defendant actress asks why we were even doing Act One. I agree. But the director says, "we're doing it for the attorneys." And I have to agree with that too. I had 90% of my lines down, but I can't say how Doc is doing. He's using index cards with a shorthand script. I'm still carrying around the whole script, and I sneak peeks now and then.

Between acts, Doc tells me the 1993 cast of the show featured attorneys who used index cards throughout the performance. He's saying this as a way of asking me if I want to do so. I don't. While I agree attorneys would have notes and paperwork at their tables, I see those as props for the show, not crutches for the actors. I don't want them. If he wants to use them, and the director OKs it, fine. But I'll work the show sans notes. The accessibility of a back-up script will keep the words from sticking in my brain.

A number of us try Act One without scripts, and it goes haltingly at best. We have no flow, and we move backward at times to get a batch of dialogue right. The act takes a long time. We also may be tired after four days of rehearsals and facing a long night on a Friday. Then again, we may cranky after talking to the costume lady.

She rolled out a costume cart before the run-through to show us potential outfits from the theatre's stores. She shot down both suits that Doc and I brought and shot them down with barely a glance. She then tossed off a comment about allowing them if the director wanted them in a manner that suggested that she wouldn't like anything we brought to the show. The director didn't argue the point, and I tried on a black pinstripe suit hanging on the rack. The jacket fit great, but the pants were much too small. When I told the costumer this, she quickly suggested we mix the jacket and vest with solid black pants. Which would be fine if I was playing a butler or the Joker. But there's no way -- no fucking way -- that a 1930s New York DA would wear a mixed suit as he prosecuting the killer of a fictional Rupert Murdoch. I don't argue the point tonight, but nearer to gametime, yes, I'm bringing back the complete gray suit. I don't need to validate the purchase; it's only $5. I'm not that attached to it save that it's the right look for the show, and it fits like a glove. And, OK yeah, the costumer pissed me off.

I get the feeling she did this a lot tonight and mentally blame her for the show's early bad vibe. It might be no coincidence that the rehearsal goes much smoother after she leaves. Although, I have to say that I'm prickly as we begin because the other actors are chatting at normal volume when I'm trying to recite my lines from memory. I have to yell over them so the director can hear me. It's rude, and I want to throttle them.

The assistant director, who was present for one night, quit. The others say she's burned out, and I wonder how much that applies to the actors coming to us from the just finished Fiddler production. As I recall, they make up half our cast. We do have a new actor, and he's playing the clerk. An older gent with the voice of God. He'll make a fine addition to the show, I think. He obviously knows some of the others, and he jokes with them throughout the night. Because he's so otherwise quiet, the jokes slay us, coming out of nowhere with shocking sarcasm.

The later acts go OK, and the play does feel strong as we see it in its entirety. I get a better sense of my character's strategy of demeanor with varying witnesses. It's a long night, a full three hours compared to our usual two.

I spend Saturday and Sunday completing the memorization for Act two and beginning Act Three. I'm starting to force myself to stock the script in my forebrain by making myself recite the lines as fast as I can pronounce each word out of my mouth. It's speed talking, and it's how I ran my lines for Cat. I now have about five pages left to commit to my brains, and then I can start working rehearsals without a script in my hand. I still lose some incidental lines here and there, but I believe I'm retaining the majority of the lines. No, no index cues cards for me.

Official play website

Rehearsals
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

My lawnmower may have cut its last lawn. It continues to kill spark plugs with a nasty oil leak, and the blade almost fell off the undercarriage as I moved to the front yard. It's a good machine; it's served me well for ten years. And I'll be sorry to take it out back and shoot it.

We took steaks and taters to Kathy and Travis Sunday night for a leisurely dinner cookout and conversation. I lost the fantasy league week by fewer than three points.

I don't know what you've heard about Thanksgiving, but here's the latest. Your Mom, while talking to P2, did just what I advised her to avoid. She second-guessed their ability to host us with a new baby and a holiday dinner, and Your Brother called the whole thing off. There is still plenty of time for plans to get back on track. But I can't blame him. What else could he do when she's suggesting they haven't thought this through? The last I heard, Your Dad was going to call them back later in the weekend to calm the waters, but I don't know how that went. Also, I'm not positive that the plan is canceled. It's possible he suggested that only the two of them stay home. I don't know. I can't speculate. But Chez Debacle still intends to go if they're cooking a bird. I'll give you the latest as I get it. But until you hear about this from Your Brother or Your Parents, keep mum. Your Mom only called Your Sis to be told she did nothing wrong.

Picture of the Day
Am I geeking out over this? Verily. I am geeking out over this.

Act Three lines

A mid-day email states that Brick from Cat is on board as the private eye, and I assume he'll start next Wednesday when we get back to Act One. He'll be fine in the role, but I have to admit top a surprising streak of nervousness now. The stupid voice in my head frets aloud about the chances that the director will switch our roles. It's inexplicable. It's silly. But there it is, gnawing away at my brains. Something in me is intimidated by the actor.

We start tonight with the housekeeper scene from Act One because that actress is going away for another week. I'm not ready for this bit, and I have to use my script more than I'd like. That done, we start Act Three. The judge is absent so the defendant's real-life son reads for him and does much better with no previous reading. Too bad he's about 16. He does despair mightily when he flips the last pages to see the length of the closing arguments. All he can do is sit it out. Rehearsals can be pretty damn boring if you have no lines. This is why I did so much drawing during the last show.

I have pretty good energy with the defendant tonight. I'm trying to vary the delivery, making the attorney play dumb in some areas and quickly going into attack mode on the next line. This is the classic attorney style we've seen on TV and in movies. This is the fun stuff. You can hear the whispering of actors memorizing their lines or simply chatting as we run the act, and this is good practice for ignoring rude audience members. I'm not saying these people are rude (I'm memorizing lines at my attorney table too), but you have to build up your anti-distraction muscles.

I need to find a quote for this show's "poster" magnet, and the best lines are in this act. This is where people make dramatic declarations of the lengths they'd travel to get what they want. The father-in-law actor is already off book for this act, and it makes me admire him all the more. The gangster is close to leaving his script behind too. These are good actors, and they're relishing their roles. I'm reading while delivering my closing argument, and I don't have a handle on it yet. It's so full of exclamation points that I'm actually getting frothy by the third page (third page!). The director instructs both attorneys to walk with confidence as we stroll the courtroom and says she's wisely decided not to choreograph our movements. We'll move as the script and mood directs us. I appreciate that. I'll be able to swagger more when I'm not reading, walking, and talking.

I have ten days to finish memorizing the script and give myself two full weeks of rehearsals before we open. I have about 20 pages left to go, and it's feasible. I feel good about my pace of learnin'.

Rehearsals
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
The summer home.

Dusting Off Act One

It's been exactly a week since we'd run Act One, and I spent a little time during my commute running lines from memory. And I didn't do too well. But I was worried about cramming before I try a no-look rehearsal, so I stayed away from the script when I got home for supper. I also didn't pick up Cormac McCarthy's The Road, to which I am now hooked.

We didn't have the full complement tonight, not even of this act's characters. We still have no private eye, and we're now within a month of opening. This has to be addressed. Doc is convinced we can lasso the lead from Cat; he's worked with this group before, and he can surely tackle this small part. He even has the right 'New Yok' accent for the role. We're missing the handwriting expert, the medical examiner, the father-in-law, the defendant, but the last two have very few lines here. The actors playing the cop and the widow pull double duty to read those parts.

I was feeling icky earlier in the day but a double shot of Dayquil kept me upright and breathing. I nailed the opening arguments the first time and did pretty well all night, but I did carry my script so as not to delay the rehearsal by smacking my head to dislodge the lines. Between runs we chat about lines, and Doc asks how many I have. I haven't counted. I don't wanna know. Doc says he's got 530. My amount has to be comparable, and know I have the burden of knowledge that I have more than 500 lines to get right. I don't need this in my head. The number solidifies the stature of the role, but that also works in my favor. I'm reminded I have the part I wanted. That makes me smile.

Doc and I ratchet up our attorney confrontations, and we're now yelling at each other during the act. It's fun. I like this adversarial energy running underneath the testimony suspense.

Rehearsals
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


Your Sis is working her ass off at school, and something has to change. She's coming home when I am, putting her daily work hours at about 14. That's nuts. She's a hard worker of course, but she needs a new tactic to work smarter. I don't know enough about her material to help, and that frustrates me. All I can do is watch, rub her feet, and feed her ice cream.

Your Mom is mucho worried about Thanksgiving in the same way My Mom was/is. She called Your Sis for a 90-minute stressfest. Can the kids juggle a houseful of folks while taking care of the new baby? Should we stay away? Will we insult them by second-guessing their ability? I say we go if we're invited. But if Your Sis and I are outv -- you know, we might go anyway. I'm not saying we will. I'll tow the company line if Your Sis asks me to, but just because Your Mom stresses out over this doesn't mean we should shun them and the new baby. I'm just writing out loud here. I don't know what we'll do.


Picture of the Day
It's not all easy being Wonder Woman.

Line Trouble

The four-day break was good for memorizing, but it doesn't help us synch with each other. The first run-through of Act Two is dismal as we stumble a lot. The problem is that we're not used to hearing the cue lines.

Here's what happens. The Swedish housekeep is on the stage, and I'm questioning her. We have our scripts in hand but not reading them. I say my line, she responds. She stops talking, so I start with my next line. She remembers she didn't get all her line out, and she tries to get it out. I stop talking, let her finish, and say my line again. I start to forget my next line, so she starts talking, and I try to blurt out my lines as I recall them. It's a mess. Doc has written his lines on index cards, but he left out a page when transcribing and relies on the judge's script. The actor playing the father-in-law has his lines down cold. The defendant (who has a lot of lines in Act Two after a fairly quiet Act One) does very well. She wasn't here Thursday because of a migraine. The second run goes much, much better, and the housekeeper and I are almost acting when we try the scene again. I should have Act Two memorized by the end of the week; I only have three witnesses in this act.

We do have an assistant director now, but she seems sick. A number of us are sniffling through rehearsal tonight. But the assistant talks the director into spreading out the attorney tables and now we have much more room between the defense station and the witness stand. But we're now further away from the judge and must turn to address him. I think we'll eventually angle the tables to where they're almost facing each other and perpendicular to the audience.

I show my photos of the cheap suit to the director and the cast sees them. They're stunned to learn I paid $5 for it, and the director approves it for the show. I'll need to change ties between acts, but that's not a problem. I learned how to do a necktie sans mirror during my first Neil Simon show.

Rehearsals
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
Any excuse for Shatner to parade his tan.

Quick Football Update

The NFL Contest
HER PICKS
NFC: New Orleans (0-3), St. Louis (0-4)
AFC: Indianapolis (4-0), New England (4-0)

MY PICKS
NFC: New Orleans (0-3), Carolina (2-2)
AFC: New England (4-0), San Diego (1-3)

The Saints had the week off.

I won my first fantasy week match-up by .05 points, possibly the closest margin in the history of margins. My opponent and I both had New England players, and they again had a monster game last night.

She's 'Death Proof'-proof

Your Sis didn't like Death Proof, much to my sadness. We talked about it the next morning (over homemade pancakes), and she admitted she doesn't know enough about horror movies to appreciate the genre. But I also think she hasn't seen enough bad movies, trash movies, or Southern bootleg racing/pistol-packin' mama movies to dig it either. It held up for me on this second viewing. There's some additional footage, most notably the Act One subplot lapdance that was "cut" from the theatrical release. The Stuntman Mike character is fascinating. he's a boy with a toy (a killing car) but he's almost cartoonish and likable even as he's committing vehicular homicide.

The soundtrack remains stellar as does the film's best moment: Rosario Dawson's character gets a close-up of her face as we watch her shift from fear to bliss, and it's so pure a moment, so simple a shot, that it defines what we look for in movies. It's moments like this that make Tarantino a quality filmmaker. Not the gore and music and language and camera choices.

She worked most of Sunday while I finished the laundry and went over lines. I memorized up to half of the second act, and that was just with one witness. I also got a suit at the local Humane Society store for $5.

Speaking of the pancakes, the bacon smoke set off the fire alarm and filled the house with smoke. Tasty, comforting smoke. Late that night, just as we're abut to hit the hay, Your Sis decided we needed to reset the alarm. I do so. And then it started beeping every minute because the battery was dead. And we had no 9-volts. I throw my clothes back on and drive to the local convenience store (not many are open at 10 p.m. on Sunday in Mayberry), buy one, drive back home and install it. No more beeps. But this was not the cap I needed to the weekend.

I hope you did well on your test and that you can breathe easier when it's done.

Picture of the Day
The suit. I already had the tie, and I need to excavate my old pocketwatch chain. I'm stunned the local store had a suit that fit me so well without any noticeable stains or funky smells. And five bucks?! This is a divine gift.


Unsolicited Moment of Personal Reflection
Today is the sixth anniversary of my arrival home to find my wife had run away. I admit to a bit of shame for the failed marriage, but mostly I feel gratitude. I'm not saying she did the right thing. Nothing of her manner of departure and behavior was commendable. Or advisable. Or sensible. But my life improved many times over within a month of her leaving. And it's remained better since. Not one subsequent day has gone by that I would trade for another day with the ex.

That day was ultimately the most influential moment of my life, post-college, and I like to use the anniversary to take stock of what I've done since then. But I do this for 9/11 too as the days are only three weeks removed. I don't look wistfully out a window. I don't get teary eyed. I get happy. And very very relieved. But I do suppress the urge to email the ex and ask if she still thinks she did the right thing. Because I'm dead certain she's not better off for leaving what she claimed was a dismal relationship. This is the only bit of ego I regularly allow myself: She left the best thing she had.

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.

'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

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.

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.

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.