Sunday, August 6, 2023

Sweetboi

 

August 6, 2023

Blew a line at matinee. Got it back, but it left a hole big enough for people to notice. Left the theater after our show at 7 PM, which is when the house is meant to open for the evening performance, and there was still one playlet to go. I asked someone on the selection committee why they chose so many plays, and she said the wisdom was “They’ll go faster as they go on.” Still, twelve plays at a throw. . .  none of them (except maybe ours) actually ten minutes long. Attendance has been good, though. My Frankenstein is in the B series and appears for rehearsal. I think of him as a grand physical specimen, and try not to stare.

Church. Stewardship Meeting. Sweetboi made a kill in my garden, sat on the grass calmly pulling it apart, ignoring the screeching of the upset songbirds. He flew into a tree and watched the door where I stood. Did he remember me? I threw sausage into the yard, but I didn’t see him take it. Sausage is probably beneath him. In full bloom he is almost unendurably beautiful. 

Opening Night

 

August 5, 2023

Opening night sold out. The long wait between arrival and going on stage is annihilating to concentration, but, still, I think O and I came off well. Best of the evening, if chatter be trusted. As for the wait, I told the stage manager from now on I’ll appear when I need to, and she seemed to accept it. She is actually so efficient I assumed she would approve anything that increased efficiency. Sat for one of those hours with three young women I did not previously know, all of them very engaged or recently graduated drama students. They got onto the subject of acting, and I was treated to a three-handed discourse on teachers, methods, great moments and figures, that was the most learned and probing conversation I’ve heard since I retired. I literally had nothing to add. Not only were they hugely well informed, but their rhetoric was elegant and courteous, acknowledging the truth of what her colleague said before going on to add her next point. It was amazing and, for a teacher, gratifying. Somebody had been paying attention. 

Not to refute, but to suggest what I might have said had I not been so gloriously outgunned, I believe all of that is actually irrelevant to the art of acting, though it may make an actor feel equipped and confident. I’d seen these young women on stage before meeting them. One did quite well (the one, predictably, who’d had the least to say) Two were bad, doing too much, calling attention to their doing, not presenting the play but themselves as players. You want to believe wide knowledge leads to deep practice, but it doesn’t. Theories of acting are like theories of painting, almost never employed by those who are best at the actual endeavor. I’ve had plenty of experience, but no training, and its coming instinctually to me makes me believe that it must be instinctual to all, if they’re doing it right. This might be an error. I ran into the same issue in writing, unable to give satisfying recipes and outlines to my students because I never used them myself. What is my theory of acting? Understand the text and deliver it with the greatest clarity possible. That is the first and great commandment. Like unto it: fully inhabit the moment; pay attention to what else is being said on stage; find your light; speak up. 

One of the learned young ladies mentioned that she’s in Montford’s The Tempest.

“Whom do you play?” says I.

“Sebastian.”

The one word saves me from seeing that production. Montford has always been short of men and filled in with women. My advice: recruit or do a different play. They do not ask my opinion.

Driving to the theater, I had to ease past my flock (2 adults, 7 chicks) of turkeys who were using the driveway at the same time. I went dead slow. They regarded my car with alarm, but not enough of it to change routes. 

Phillipe Sly is my current musical obsession. 

Finished deep revision of Tub. Will likely change the title.

Matinee late this afternoon. The show runs over three hours, so we leaving the matinee will have to dance around those arriving for the evening performance. The last playlet in our group is so bad–and so long–it could be lopped as a gangrenous limb. So many directors are needed for an endeavor like this that there is little vetting. An eager hand waving “I’ll do it!” is enough. But, of course, it is not enough. 


Saturday, August 5, 2023

 

August 4, 2023

Dress rehearsal last night. I’d forgotten how much fun it is to be on stage. I’d forgotten in what ways acting is, in fact, creative. The evening is too long (12 plays would be too many even if they were actually 10 minutes long. Most of them aren’t) and far too uneven. A few of them make you wonder about the selection process. I admire our playwright because his idea is the right size for the time allotted. Most of the playlets take far too big an idea and try to condense it down. The ten minute play is a repellent concept, anyway, though currently a playwright’s main path to production. It encourages the audience in bad habits. 

K wrote me a note about my performance and said, “You were tremendous.” Compared to my own expectations, I believe I was. 

Ae Fond Kiss

 


August 3, 2023


Rose light, taking in the deep music of the rain. Russell and DJ and I saw Oppenheimer last night. Ungainly as art, necessary as chronicle. 

Sometimes trying to think of the perfect work of art I hit upon something close, or on the mark:


Ae fond kiss, and then we sever

Ae fareweel, and then forever!

Had we never lov'd sae kindly,

Had we never lov'd sae blindly,

Never met—or never parted—

We had ne'er been broken-hearted.


Fare thee weel, thou first and fairest!

Fare thee weel, thou best and dearest!

Thine be ilka joy and treasure,

Peace. enjoyment, love, and pleasure!

Ae fond kiss, and then we sever;

Ae fareweel, alas, forever!


Don’t know if this is the whole poem, but it’s what came into my ear, and made me glad.

First bit of Messiah that I ever sung: “And the glory of the Lord,” in high school, for some forgotten reason. I assumed the teachers had a list of masterpieces that could finally be brought out when the students reached a certain age. Never got to Bach until college. 


 

August 2, 2023

Our tech rehearsal took exactly five minutes, there being two cues. Five minutes after four hours. Easy is good. A homeless guy played a broken ukelele on the street under moonlight as I left the theater. 


Wednesday, August 2, 2023

Centenary

 

August 1, 2023

Rose determined to renew my driver’s license; made it to the DMV and did so with less hassle than anticipated. I suppose I was the hassle, for they called my number very quickly with six or seven people in the waiting room ahead of me. They grumbled. They’ll have a tale to tell of this jerk at the DMV who got in a head of them. One person is available to serve all those who arrive for license or ID issues. My photo makes me look like Methuselah. 

You can renew online every second time– which means I may never have to set foot in a DMV again. Benefits of the end times--

Note arrives from the tax assessor informing me, among other things, that my house was built in 1923. I was a year off. Will plan her a grand party. Poor thing had to go 90 years without me. 

Mis-identified a goldfinch as a blossom of errant color on the Mexican sunflower. 

 

July 30, 2023

Post cards for Ben & Angela arrive, imperfect but serviceable. 

Still bothered by having watched a turkey eat a snake in my yard. So much for the Peaceable Kingdom where the red slayer does not slay.