We hit probably the biggest obstacle we’ve faced so far, throughout all five shows (counting our current production), but things seem to have worked out as well as they could have. Our lead actor, who in this script is onstage about 97% of the show, was offered an opportunity he couldn’t resist from the most prestigious theater in town. It wasn’t the what, it was the where — the role (roles, actually — it’s a series of plays) are not nearly as sizable, but the audience has in the past consisted of people whose notice an actor would do well to earn, so our lead had to find a graceful way to do a fairly unthinkable thing: leave a show well into the rehearsal process.
There was no way this could go over well with anyone involved, and it didn’t, but he handled himself as well as could be expected from a 20 year-old, who wants to earn his living as an actor. Taking one for the team, in the purest, Rudyard Kipling’s “If” sense of the word, would have meant always having to wonder if by turning the roles down, he might not only have squandered an opportunity, but burnt a bridge in the process that might never be repaired — had he turned them down, they might never have called back. So, even as Producer and Writer, I can’t help but sympathize with his situation. It helps tremendously that our second choice for the role, second only due to his schedule at the time, was available and willing. Were this not the case, I might now be forced to shut things down, and subsequently overlook the above, and right now be plotting revenge. But, circumstances have allowed a more well-reasoned response. We missed two rehearsals that we really couldn’t afford, but things should be back to normal on Monday.
Saw Tom Waits. A simultaneously great and disappointing show; as my wife put it, he was mostly “Circus Ringleader” Waits as opposed to “Piano Guy” Waits. I prefer the latter; were he to play the “Closing Time” album all the way through three times in a row, I would go home happy as can be. But it was still a hell of a show. You can’t appreciate his more esoteric stuff until you see it live — it’s a whole different world to see it coming out of the guy, with his body bent at the waist as though he’s pumping the music from out of the earth…And the voice: a bassoon reed, soaked in whiskey for a precise but undisclosed period of time, then rubbed with ground glass. But he hits the notes, of course — he bludgeons them, but he hits them. Well worth the ticket price.
Monday through Thursday rehearsals this week, as will be the case until shoot day. More to come as anything interesting occurs.
Rehearsals are going well, so far. It takes time for the actors to get a feel for the material; the difference between the first day and the last is always enormous. “Sebastian, Right” is driven by dialogue, so timing is an important factor. A fixed tennis match is as good a way to look at it as any: we want the ball to remain in play (continuous dialogue) until a predetermined time (pause), but want the match to appear as “real” (fast-paced; arguments seemingly attempted to be won) as possible. But, eventually, the ball is going to go out of play, and a natural break occurs. It’s always a while before the actors are comfortable (and familiar) enough with the material to stop reading/reciting and start speaking. That is when things get interesting, from a writer’s point of view.
We had everyone over and read through the script; one comment was “It made more sense aloud,” which caused me to swell with pride…A readthrough, as I said last night and hopefully didn’t insult anyone thereby, is like listening to an out-of-tune symphony. There is a melody or theme and you can tell what it wants to do, but it is clearly not, as yet, doing it. Of course, there’s no way it could: I’ve read that script probably a thousand times; I know every inflection of every syllable, or at least how I now think it best. But I learned a long time ago that I’m not always right, and that a director’s input is part of the creative process. A largely unacknowledged process, but a part nonetheless. This is a long, unusual script, but it’s made two people cry so far, which is I guess a good sign. At my first live show, one lady got sick, but given the nature of the show, it was a backhanded complement — just an extreme version of the intended/hoped for response.
Readthroughs are always fun. Whatever is funny becomes progressively less so in each rehearsal, to the point a writer is in danger of losing touch with the original spontaneity on which much humor is based. But the first read is fresh, especially since most of the actors in smaller parts have only read their own characters, and can sit back and listen.
The play is called “Sebastian, Right,” and it is about Revenge: the Capital “R,” well-planned, all-consuming variety. I did it after “Confession. . .(A Hell of a Thing)”, and wanted to do something funny. The result was not what I intended. A play, or any form of Art, I suppose, will for all practical purposes follow its own intentions. The Artist is just a conduit: not for some metaphysical Oversoul or some such imaginary construct, but for his own subconscious — whatever is most on his mind, when whatever that creative drive actually is takes control, will come out. Crass as it may be, I’ve always compared it to nausea — the feeling after one too many drinks when one knows it is time to find an appropriate place to let the damage undo itself. I can testify to this from a strong position (the former, although to a lesser degree the latter), because for the first time I’m writing another play while in the midst of a production. Mencken said something to the effect that a happy man has no “leisure” time whatsoever — he is mind is always occupied. And he has a point, as always. “Work” cannot be made to refer to something from which one finds true fulfillment — anyone who argues this needs to spend time in East Texas in September, with a new fence needing to be where an old one stands. (This is touched upon in “Writing a Woman.”)
The cast is strong. Heath won’t be in the lead, for only the second time, because I wrote another part specifically with him in mind. Jenny Frame (CAHOAT, “Once Removed”) is the female lead, and the supporting cast, as I said, is solid throughout. I’ve been saying I will do this on a regular basis; I’m told it is helpful in establishing a presence on the Internet. So, now that I have things to write about, I will endeavor to do so.
