Stanislavsky

 

March 28, 2022

Reading my Stanislavsky book, noting what people go through to help imperfect geniuses (or sometimes just imperfect men) realize their conceptions. I believe I go out of my way not to be this sort of burden on the people around me in creative situations, but they might, reading this, be rolling their eyes and groaning. K has his odd warfare on the letter “r” which turns from time to time to a flat-out tantrum; S has her thundered final consonants and Italianate inner syllable which (besides being wrong) drive everyone berserk, but seem somehow to be part of the package. The Russian was, of course, much worse, yet people put up with him. Fourteen hours of rehearsal and not yet to page 5 of the script. What were they getting in return?  Something which does not survive the re-telling. Would they be better for correction, or would correction be judged as opposition? One brick re-adjusted, would the palace fall? 

Watched the Oscars last night, witnessed what is bound to be one of its eternal moments: Will Smith slapping Chris Rock across the face for making a joke about his wife. Five minutes later Smith accepted an Oscar for Best Actor. Smith was seen laughing at the joke until his wife gave him the side-eye. People go to events like that knowing that comics are going to have a field day, and that nothing is off limits. If they fear being made fun of, they should stay home. Smith thought he was so big he could get away with something like that. He was wrong. Rock sailed on through his bit as though nothing had happened, saving the evening. I got up and poured another vodka.

I was cold watching all that and put on my coat. Maud recognized it as her cuddle coat, and crawled up inside it with me, until I squirmed out of it and left it all to her. She was Putin and my jacket was Ukraine.  

Asked if I want to be on the Magnetic Board. I think my energies are best employed elsewhere, but I will savor the invitation until tomorrow. 

Cold and bright. When it was almost warm enough I went out to garden. Planted butterfly weed. Dug and weeded on the inner side of the fence, part of the hell of vines.