georginasand (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
georginasand) wrote2009-06-01 09:52 am
georginasand) wrote2009-06-01 09:52 am
Entry tags:
Explaination
"'Tis your thoughts that now must deck our kings...to which supply admit me Chorus to this history, who Prologue-like your humble patience prays..." ~Shakespeare, Henry V
It wasn't a perfect dress rehearsal, but they were the imperfections one hopes for in final dress, the ones that will ensure a smooth opening: droped lines, droped entrances, dropped scenes (I'm not sure if we ever found 1.11, but I think it turned up in the second act somewhere). None the less, I'd like to think the Bard would have been proud of us. It rained today, so the final dress rehearsal of our outdoor production of As You Like It happened on a bare stage, under fluorescent lights in a round theater. So much was it like the Globe, I was half expecting the ghost of Richard Burbage to appear and give us the Prologue to Henry V. I could have done a lot with a Muse of Fire that night. Granted I am a Shakespeare dork, but it was so cool to see the play as it was supposed to be: just people and words, words, words.
This week I have had approximately twenty pages to write and that show that I am stage managing. As a result I have been tired and grumpy and cynical and short. (I am, not usually like this. I am usually optimistic, have had at least 7 hours of sleep, and am 5'8", or at the very least can pretend) Living in the close sort of community I do, people are bound to notice this, and living in the wonderfully close sort of community I do, people are bound to comment on it with concern. So I am trying to figure out how to explain why I put myself through this, and by this I mean theater show weeks.
But people get bewildered when you say "yes, I am stressed and miserable but it is worth it." i am perfectly willing to own that this week has been more or less miserable. I've been tired, and frustrated, and borderline sick. The theatrical process is so unbelievably screwed up. It involves late nights last minute changes and being 85% sure the show is good and 15% in a state of sheer panic. Even the best director or stage manager who plans like crazy can't avoid the disasters that are bound to occur. It's inherent in the process. And what is a bit hard to explain in casual conversation is how much I love this process, and "love alters not when alterations finds." I have tried, believe me, to fight the process. I make checklists, I color code, and triple check pre-set lists and props plots. But I am still in the costume shop at 11pm hemming pants or up at 8am running lines with a panicky actor.
The finished product of a theatrical performance is a fragile, beautiful, and miraculous thing and I love that. I love it, "when the story is good, and the audience is listening." But really I am in it for the panic attacks at 5 minutes to places, and the hours of rehearsals in this case in wind and Minnesota afternoon sun. I like watching the play form and take place and even more than that, I love getting to shape it. And yes, it is worth a week on five hours of sleep and a B- in sociology, and it will always be worth it.
I remain,
Georgie
It wasn't a perfect dress rehearsal, but they were the imperfections one hopes for in final dress, the ones that will ensure a smooth opening: droped lines, droped entrances, dropped scenes (I'm not sure if we ever found 1.11, but I think it turned up in the second act somewhere). None the less, I'd like to think the Bard would have been proud of us. It rained today, so the final dress rehearsal of our outdoor production of As You Like It happened on a bare stage, under fluorescent lights in a round theater. So much was it like the Globe, I was half expecting the ghost of Richard Burbage to appear and give us the Prologue to Henry V. I could have done a lot with a Muse of Fire that night. Granted I am a Shakespeare dork, but it was so cool to see the play as it was supposed to be: just people and words, words, words.
This week I have had approximately twenty pages to write and that show that I am stage managing. As a result I have been tired and grumpy and cynical and short. (I am, not usually like this. I am usually optimistic, have had at least 7 hours of sleep, and am 5'8", or at the very least can pretend) Living in the close sort of community I do, people are bound to notice this, and living in the wonderfully close sort of community I do, people are bound to comment on it with concern. So I am trying to figure out how to explain why I put myself through this, and by this I mean theater show weeks.
But people get bewildered when you say "yes, I am stressed and miserable but it is worth it." i am perfectly willing to own that this week has been more or less miserable. I've been tired, and frustrated, and borderline sick. The theatrical process is so unbelievably screwed up. It involves late nights last minute changes and being 85% sure the show is good and 15% in a state of sheer panic. Even the best director or stage manager who plans like crazy can't avoid the disasters that are bound to occur. It's inherent in the process. And what is a bit hard to explain in casual conversation is how much I love this process, and "love alters not when alterations finds." I have tried, believe me, to fight the process. I make checklists, I color code, and triple check pre-set lists and props plots. But I am still in the costume shop at 11pm hemming pants or up at 8am running lines with a panicky actor.
The finished product of a theatrical performance is a fragile, beautiful, and miraculous thing and I love that. I love it, "when the story is good, and the audience is listening." But really I am in it for the panic attacks at 5 minutes to places, and the hours of rehearsals in this case in wind and Minnesota afternoon sun. I like watching the play form and take place and even more than that, I love getting to shape it. And yes, it is worth a week on five hours of sleep and a B- in sociology, and it will always be worth it.
I remain,
Georgie
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