Last night was closing for the show. Frankly, I was rather sorry to see it go. We didn't do spectacular business during the six-week run, but audiences were definitely picking up, and we have been getting pretty decent word-of-mouth, which was encouraging. But of course, just when it feels like the momentum is starting to turn in your favor, it's all over. It's one of the frustrating things about how we have to operate: you can only run your show for so long, before you have to make way for the next one, so in a situation like this, just when you're just starting to build audiences, you have to stop.
And it's amazing, not to mention a little unnerving, how months worth of preparation, planning, rehearsal, building, sweating and laboring can be reduced in about 90 minutes to nothing more than an empty stage, with only a few spots of unpainted floor to mark that the show was ever there in the first place. Once it was done, we held our post-show celebration, and threw a little party for ourselves, but I have to say, I was feeling a little less than celebratory: I was really proud of this piece, of the effort everyone put into it, and the results that came out of their hard work. I wished it could have been seen by more people, I think they would have enjoyed it, just as those who DID see it seemed to do. It's been a long time since I've felt that good about something into which I've put so much of myself, and I suppose there was a bit of ego involved in not wanting to let it slip away so quickly.
But, as I said, that's the way things work around here. I had my time, took my shot, and now it's someone else's turn.
Thanks again to everyone who put in so much work on "The Moon Is A Dead World"; I couldn't have done it alone, and it wouldn't have been nearly as amazing without your participation.
Giant Steps Are What You Take, Walking On The Moon
Wow.
I don't think we could have had a better opening night. There was a good-sized turnout, with several reviewers in attendance, and the entire show from beginning to end just shined. Everyone stepped up to the plate and hit home run after home run. I sat in the very last row, taking it all in, and by the end I think I was crying, both from a sense of relief that we had actually pulled off this incredibly difficult production, but also just from the realization that we had done so with remarkable grace and finesse. I could not have been prouder of my cast, designers, crew and technicians than I was when the audience erupted into applause at the curtain call.
One of the last things I said to the cast before the show was to remember this play is a dark comedy, but that it was vital to NOT play the humor; in fact, the more deadly serious they took the events and situations in the play, the funnier it becomes. But I don't think even I was completely prepared for the response. I knew there were funny moments - funny to me, at least - but the audience, admittedly a very friendly one, were laughing at things all the way through; and the cast, having only had perhaps a handful of times during the rehearsal period where someone laughed out loud, were completely synced with the audience. Timing was impeccable, laughs were acknowledged and held for, then left behind with a sense of confidence and agility that simply made me marvel.
It was, in short, a magical evening, and I think even now, a couple hours shy of a full night's sleep, and beginning to feel the symptoms of a head cold I've been stalling off for several days, I still feel a bit giddy, like I'm walking a few inches off the ground.
So, if you run into me the next few days, and you see me with a lingering blissed-out expression on my face, you'll know why.
So, things tonight went - pretty well. I spoke briefly with the cast about 45 minutes before curtain time, just to remind them this was a black comedy, and that people in the audience might actually LAUGH at some of the dialog - which in fact, turned out to be the case. And they played through the laughter as well as I could have possibly wished.
Which, I guess, means we have a show now. THEY have a show now. My part is done.
I just get to show up occasionally at this point and see what they've changed. Hopefully, my stage manager will keep them MOSTLY on the straight-and-narrow, but there are always new things to learn, new discoveries for the actors to make, and I hope they continue to make them during the course of the run.
But, for better or worse, I'm just a member of the audience now.
The thing is, now matter how the show goes tonight, I'm pretty much guaranteed one of two possible outcomes: 1.) if it goes well, the critics will hail Mike as the genius he is, the cast will receive oodles of deserved praise, and most likely the designers will get shout-outs for their imaginative, innovative use of the space; 2.) if the show somehow goes off the tracks, I'll be the one who gets the blame. It's just the nature of the business, and as director I have to accept those terms whether I think they're fair or not. Still, I'd much prefer outcome number 1. above.
So, I guess it's no surprise I woke up an hour before my alarm clock this morning unable to go back to sleep, and I can already feel the knots beginning to kink up in my stomach. Which means, I'm probably going to be a complete wreck by curtain time tonight.
The show is coming right along. Amazing to think that, just a week ago, I was losing large amounts of sleep worrying about whether or not we'd actually get to this point before opening night. But, after last evening's run-through I'm feeling confident we'll have a successful opening. There's still some fine-tuning adjustments to make, but everyone: cast, crew, and designers have all really embraced the "let's continue to improve things" ethic at work these past few days.
On the other hand, I'm also starting to feel that sense of ambivalence that comes at this point in the process, as the director begins to "let go" of the production, and passes it off to the cast and running crew. I've put so much of myself into this project since first emailing Mike back in April; I've literally sweat, and struggled, and even fought at times to get this project off the ground, and yet, just at the moment where all of the elements are about to come together to turn the words-on-paper into a living, tangible reality, I have to commence the process of stepping away. As of 8:00 p.m. tomorrow night, it's no longer MY show; and although, over the next five weeks it will be the job of the cast and production crew to continue to express the "vision" developed by the playwright, designers, and myself, it really does become theirs to perform, and hopefully to improve in small ways throughout the course of the run.
It'll be interesting to come back to it in a few weeks and see how it's changed in the myriad of subtle ways that any show of this type does over time.
And Curse Sir Walter Raleigh, He Was Such A Stupid Git
The killer weekend is finally over: two back-to-back "ten-out-of-twelves" (for the uninitiated, this is a day when the cast, production staff and crew work for ten hours out of a twelve-hour period to add in all the technical elements of the play: lights, sound, costumes, special effects, et al.)
And I have to say, despite my exhaustion (the power on my block went out last evening, and the City crews were out all night cutting tree limbs and restringing lines - right outside my apartment door - until about 4:00 a.m. this morning), that things are looking pretty spectacular. It's going to be very different from what the average theatre-goer tends to imagine when they go to see a play, and I have a lot of people to thank for helping to make that happen.
Right now, I'm just looking forward to a drink, a shower, and a good night's sleep. Tomorrow is a holiday from work, but I have a couple of errands to run, and plan to do some clean-up in the theatre before the evening's rehearsal.
But, the good news is, we're over the hump, things are in excellent shape, and I really feel like we've got a show. It might not be everyone's cup-o', but it's a lot closer to what I originally envisioned than, frankly, I ever thought we'd be able to achieve in six weeks, with volunteer labor, and a $300 (!) production budget.
This is what nerds - er, "new technology professionals" - do for relaxation after 12 straight hours teching a theatrical production - have a light-saber battle with their iPhones.
I got a mention in Playbill Magazine (for those of you not in-the-know, Playbill is THE New York theatre magazine/program you get at pretty much every Broadway show, plus a lot of other smaller NYC theatres as well. Not that THIS listing will appear there, but - who knows?)
And okay, it's really all about the author (as it should be), but what the heck.
I Kicked The Blankets On The Floor, Turned My Pillow Upside Down
Had our first "stumble-through" of the show last night, and - things went pretty okay. There are some blocking adjustments I need to make, and we've still got a long way to go in terms of the cast really nailing the complexities of some of the sub-text (all of this probably sounds like gobbledygook to those of you not familiar with "theatre lingo" I'm sure), but it was good to have the entire thing up on its feet and run it in continuity, rather than the more randomized rehearsals we've had to-date.
Also, Mike and his director/wife/partner-in-crime Jean Michelle were in attendance last night, and they gave me some valuable insights and observations regarding various aspects of the production, both aesthetically, technically, and artistically, which we'll begin to incorporate during the next round of rehearsals.
I admit, I was pretty nervous going in, because Mike has very specific ideas about how the show should work, and given our technical and budgetary limitations, I had some concern as to whether he'd think we'd be able to successfully accomplish some of the more challenging aspects of his vision. Frankly, it's kept me awake for the past few nights, along with mulling over all the other things that have to get done in just a few short weeks, along with the general insomnia that comes with shouldering the responsibility for a project of this size and scope (we've already been picked as a "fall favorite" by a couple of localpublications, not to mention getting a shout-out in a national theatre magazine - so, you know, really no pressure or anything.) But, after a very productive post-rehearsal chat with the two of them, I feel a lot more confident that he understands our limitations, and recognizes that we're doing our best to devise creative solutions to the opportunities his script presents - and that - at this point at least - he doesn't think I completely suck at this directing thing.
So, that's another little hurdle surmounted, as we proceed into the next phase of the process
I Couldn't Close My Eyes 'Cause You Were On My Mind
So, I'm lying awake early this morning - around 5:00 a.m. by my bedside clock - because my brain refuses to let go of a particularly pesky design challenge I've run into relating to the show, when suddenly, in a moment bordering on minor epiphany, the solution (or at the very least a possible solution) presents itself.
This solution involves the following:
- a large syringe, like the kind you use to inject juice into a turkey;
- several feet of white PVC plastic refrigerator tubing;
- a sizable quantity of stage blood or equivalent;
- a disposable incontinence bed pad
I have just enough parts at home or at the theatre to construct a quick-and-dirty prototype of the item for my production meeting this evening, when I'll test it out. If it works, I'm probably golden; if not, I'm sure I can look forward to another sleepless night, while my brain continues to work the problem.
Update: Well, at the production meeting last night my ENTIRE team nixed the "brilliant solution"; the one mother in the group was particularly adamant, claiming my "prototype" reminded her too much of her last child-birth.
So much for that idea.
On the plus side, I did finally get consensus on another solution, although it does entail more in the way of technical resources. But, at least it didn't make everyone squirm in their seats.
Now, I'll just have to see how the playwright responds to things after tonight's stumble-through of the entire play.
I was down at the theatre last night doing some prep work for Marquee II: This Time It's Personal (see last Sunday's entry below), when my friend Molly, who also happens to be in the show, stopped by to check her email on the company computer.
Now, Molly has become renowned in our fairly largish extended social circle as something of a genius when it comes to baking, and in particular she's developed a reputation for creating delicious wedding cakes. In preparation for a cake she was going to bake last night for a wedding this afternoon, she'd been doing some research to create a frosting that would match the coloring of some ribbons being used as part of the bride's entourage, I believe.
So, while we were chatting, she pulled out a small sandwich bag containing a gluey white substance - I had a pretty good idea what it was, but when she opened it and I got a good nose-full of the aroma, there was no question: evidently, Molly carries plastic baggies full of butter cream frosting around with her, and under certain circumstances, she'll let you sniff it.
Which, personally, I find rather delightful, if perhaps just a tiny bit evil.
It's been a pretty hectic week, what with New Boss finally coming on-board at work, the start of rehearsals for the show, last night's Spin The Bottle, and tomorrow's planned installation of the marquee.
The pace really doesn't let up much after this weekend. Annex has it's annual retreat scheduled for two weekends from now, but otherwise, that's the only real break, aside from an occasional Friday night off, until the show opens on October 17th.
But, I have to say, it all seems to be running refreshingly smoothly, and while it's certainly a hefty workload, I don't feel like it's overwhelming - yet. But clearly, it doesn't leave me much in the way of leisure time.
I'm sure at some point it'll start feeling awfully close to setting the other end of the candle alight, but until then, I just need to stay on top of everything, not get bogged down in the minutae, and trust in those around me to do the same.
