Caught is looking up. Wednesday and Friday were my off-book deadlines. Wednesday was good. Friday, not so good. I was surprised at both ends of the spectrum--by people who really WERE off book and people who weren't. It really can only get better. I'm not saying it's bad, but that's the nature of the beast--rehearsals are supposed to make the show better--and they do. I hope that I get to rehearse on stage on Monday--doubtful, however, because I think that "Peter Pan" call backs will not only pre-empt us, but take some of my actors.... Because after all, everyone CAN do EVERYTHING. I also hope that I get to rehearse with my sound cues. I'm a little....hesitant to ask SoundGuy to sit in rehearsal and run them. Is that how it's done at the high school? I know this is my second year there, but it doesn't keep me from feeling like a stranger in a strange land who doesn't really know the language, the rules, the protocols, or what expectations are really on me....I feel like the Rookie Show is the low man on the totem pole and everything else takes priority over it. Grumblegrumble. In any case, I praised them before I let them go on Friday and gave them three assisgnments: 1) get louder, 2) slow down, 3) enunciate. Those are our three issues. They were all looking at me and I felt they were internalizing what I said. I hope so.
We had our first blocking rehearsal for The Best Christmas Pageant Ever on Thursday. I wrote a little bit about it in my previous entry. It took us the whole two hours to block 14 pages, which is what I wanted to get through, but I had hoped to have time to go back and 'lock it in'. Hence, Block and Lock. The more people on stage, the more difficult it is to create my moving piece of art. I have twelve new families in KidsPlay and 21 new faces. I just hope the parents and the veterans can be patient while I teach the fundamentals to the newbies. Got involved in long discussions about the set, long discussions about lines, and costumes. Gave way on most; holding my ground on a couple....
This was a sewing weekend. I bought yards and yards and yards of white flannel for the angel costumes. I bought all that the east-side Wal-Mart, JoAnn's, and Hobby Lobby had and ended up driving down to Shelbyville to the only other central Indiana Wal-Mart that still carries material for another 14 yards!! I had good sewing help yesterday morning and again this afternoon. Thanks to Lais, Rachelle, Laura, Frances, Carie, and Shannon for your help. It was MUCH appreciated. I chose flannel because I thought it would be easier to sew with than the flimsy broadcloth, and you can't see through it.
Tuesday starts our first choir rehearsal. Wish us luck. <---and THAT'S a line from Caught. :-)
Sunday, September 20, 2009
Sewing
Sewing, sewing, sewing...
I'm sewing this weekend. We're making some 16 angel outfits. I picked flannel, much to some's chagrin. It was reasonably priced (with a coupon, of course) and it's thick enough that you can't see through it, unlike the broad cloth.
Photos are the 15th. HOW am I going to make that deadline?
I'm sewing this weekend. We're making some 16 angel outfits. I picked flannel, much to some's chagrin. It was reasonably priced (with a coupon, of course) and it's thick enough that you can't see through it, unlike the broad cloth.
Photos are the 15th. HOW am I going to make that deadline?
Friday, September 18, 2009
Two Fall Projects
I'm actually directing two shows right now:
Caught in the Act by Pat Cook
Apparently I agreed to direct the Rookie Show for Greenfield-Central High School during a 2 1/2 minute conversation last November. I was very excited about it at first and there are moments when I still am--when there's a breakthrough moment during rehearsal, or when I see how earnestly the kids I'm working with strive for a positive comment. But there have been a lot of frustrations, too. We've gotten bumped out of the auditorium a few times. My supervisor schedules meetings and auditions that pull my actors away. There are delays in tech and actor absences. I'm working with beginners which is a challenge (but a delight when they stretch themselves). I didn't feel that I had enough time from the get-go to make good theatre, and these obstacles only enhance that feeling. I'm pushing my actors as hard as I think they will allow me to. It can only get better and it does.
The Best Christmas Pageant Ever by Barbara Robinson
This is the show I'm doing with KidsPlay and CrazyLake--a joint production. Last week, we had auditions. This week was our parents meeting and our first blocking rehearsal. 40 people in the cast--two weekends, two day time matinees. A HUGE undertaking, probably the largest project I've taken on in theatre. "Jolly Roger" and "Three Tales of Christmas" come close, but I think this is the biggest. The first blocking rehearsal was long. It took 2 hours to block some 14 pages. All of the scenes have large groups of kids in them and the more kids on the stage, the more difficult and chaotic it is to block it well. I hope my adults are patient as I work with the kids.
So those are the two projects. You've officially been brought up to speed and you're ready now for subsequent blog posts about these projects and other future projects. :-)
Caught in the Act by Pat Cook
Apparently I agreed to direct the Rookie Show for Greenfield-Central High School during a 2 1/2 minute conversation last November. I was very excited about it at first and there are moments when I still am--when there's a breakthrough moment during rehearsal, or when I see how earnestly the kids I'm working with strive for a positive comment. But there have been a lot of frustrations, too. We've gotten bumped out of the auditorium a few times. My supervisor schedules meetings and auditions that pull my actors away. There are delays in tech and actor absences. I'm working with beginners which is a challenge (but a delight when they stretch themselves). I didn't feel that I had enough time from the get-go to make good theatre, and these obstacles only enhance that feeling. I'm pushing my actors as hard as I think they will allow me to. It can only get better and it does.
The Best Christmas Pageant Ever by Barbara Robinson
This is the show I'm doing with KidsPlay and CrazyLake--a joint production. Last week, we had auditions. This week was our parents meeting and our first blocking rehearsal. 40 people in the cast--two weekends, two day time matinees. A HUGE undertaking, probably the largest project I've taken on in theatre. "Jolly Roger" and "Three Tales of Christmas" come close, but I think this is the biggest. The first blocking rehearsal was long. It took 2 hours to block some 14 pages. All of the scenes have large groups of kids in them and the more kids on the stage, the more difficult and chaotic it is to block it well. I hope my adults are patient as I work with the kids.
So those are the two projects. You've officially been brought up to speed and you're ready now for subsequent blog posts about these projects and other future projects. :-)
A First Post
Yes, yes...most blogs are nothing more than 'vanity projects'. (See Reasons for Writing), and this one is no different. I simply decided I wanted another format (other than my personal blog) for blogging the progress of our productions, the joys and despairs of being a theatre person, and keep a record of our craft, so I decided to create "The Director's Journal".
For my first entry, however, I'd like to post a cut-and-paste letter from a previously started (and abandoned) blog, called "Love Letter to KidsPlay" I wrote back in March of 2007. This is a declaration of my love for what I'm doing, and a good way to start.
I think in my whole life, I have just fifteen minutes to myself every day, and that’s the time it takes me to drive to school in the morning. So it’s no surprise that this fifteen minutes of unstructured time is the time when I reflect on what I’m doing, the speed of my life, and how I’m spending my time here on earth. For me, there has been no greater joy than the privilege of getting to do what I do with you and your kids.
Some reflections from this morning’s drive…
I can’t remember when we have all worked so hard and been so…freakin’ happy about it. Everyone, I mean everyone, is walking around with a huge smile on their faces. I know that some of you have added the things you do for KidsPlay onto an already full plate, yet everyone seems so happy about the 2, 4, 6, 12 or 20 extra hours you’re putting towards KidsPlay every week. Please know that it does not go unnoticed.
Dennis stopped up after rehearsing with Donna for the Variety Show last night. He told me that he thought it was really starting to click. I look at him and he’s just beaming. Good heavens, I think, what was he doing before he found KidsPlay and this outlet for his considerable creative side? I mentioned as much to Donna on the way out the door last night and she said, “What did I do before all of you found ME?”
Some of the kids have already started their songs for the song contest. I haven’t even mentioned it yet in announcements.
We’re getting some outstanding work from the kids. I’m thrilled with the extent to which most of them know their lines. Sam is a little weak on the vocals, and Joe is still shaky on his memorization, but the two of them totally make up for that with the innovative stuff they’re trying out at rehearsal. They’re so into being actors and I LOVE it.
I finally decided, probably too late, to try to transition Blair away from the cockney, to a more genteel aristocratic British accent. She absolutely nailed it in the first act. Amazing. And Blair. Good heavens, I can’t believe this is her last show. [Yes, I’m going down this road already…] She’s been with us since she was a baby fourth grader. She has bloomed into such a leader for this group. What will we do without her?
And Sam. We haven’t had Sam long enough, and yet, he’s an 8th grader. I think that rehearsal will be a colder place without his absolutely irrepressible good humor. I think I could give him constructive criticism every 15 seconds, and he would just smile, make the adjustment and go on.
I can’t get over Wesley on the peg-leg. For those of you who haven’t seen it, it’s amazing. He walks on it, spins around, sometimes wobbles (only a little), but he doesn’t miss a beat. I can’t wait to see the audience’s reaction when he walks out on that stage. Surely, most adult theatres would not try this special effect (probably because adult legs couldn’t take what Wesley can do with his…). And he’s so matter-of-fact about it—doesn’t complain, doesn’t say it hurts (it can’t possibly be comfortable!!). He’s…just…making sacrifices for his art, is all.
There are so many other things: the kids’ obvious delight in their costumes; their comments and suggestions for improving the show—they have more ideas than I can process in any one rehearsal; their willingness to rehearse a scene or say a line, over and over again until I think we have it right; and the parents laughing and enjoying the scenes and the banter of rehearsal.
Sometimes I think that the stars have aligned to bring us all together combining all of our energies and our talents to create this wonderful thing that we’re doing. All this energy, all this fun and happiness and pride in our kids and in our own hard work. This is a great time for us. We need to soak up these moments while we can. There will be others, to be sure, but these times are golden--and they won’t come again.
Chris
3/9/07
For my first entry, however, I'd like to post a cut-and-paste letter from a previously started (and abandoned) blog, called "Love Letter to KidsPlay" I wrote back in March of 2007. This is a declaration of my love for what I'm doing, and a good way to start.
I think in my whole life, I have just fifteen minutes to myself every day, and that’s the time it takes me to drive to school in the morning. So it’s no surprise that this fifteen minutes of unstructured time is the time when I reflect on what I’m doing, the speed of my life, and how I’m spending my time here on earth. For me, there has been no greater joy than the privilege of getting to do what I do with you and your kids.
Some reflections from this morning’s drive…
I can’t remember when we have all worked so hard and been so…freakin’ happy about it. Everyone, I mean everyone, is walking around with a huge smile on their faces. I know that some of you have added the things you do for KidsPlay onto an already full plate, yet everyone seems so happy about the 2, 4, 6, 12 or 20 extra hours you’re putting towards KidsPlay every week. Please know that it does not go unnoticed.
Dennis stopped up after rehearsing with Donna for the Variety Show last night. He told me that he thought it was really starting to click. I look at him and he’s just beaming. Good heavens, I think, what was he doing before he found KidsPlay and this outlet for his considerable creative side? I mentioned as much to Donna on the way out the door last night and she said, “What did I do before all of you found ME?”
Some of the kids have already started their songs for the song contest. I haven’t even mentioned it yet in announcements.
We’re getting some outstanding work from the kids. I’m thrilled with the extent to which most of them know their lines. Sam is a little weak on the vocals, and Joe is still shaky on his memorization, but the two of them totally make up for that with the innovative stuff they’re trying out at rehearsal. They’re so into being actors and I LOVE it.
I finally decided, probably too late, to try to transition Blair away from the cockney, to a more genteel aristocratic British accent. She absolutely nailed it in the first act. Amazing. And Blair. Good heavens, I can’t believe this is her last show. [Yes, I’m going down this road already…] She’s been with us since she was a baby fourth grader. She has bloomed into such a leader for this group. What will we do without her?
And Sam. We haven’t had Sam long enough, and yet, he’s an 8th grader. I think that rehearsal will be a colder place without his absolutely irrepressible good humor. I think I could give him constructive criticism every 15 seconds, and he would just smile, make the adjustment and go on.
I can’t get over Wesley on the peg-leg. For those of you who haven’t seen it, it’s amazing. He walks on it, spins around, sometimes wobbles (only a little), but he doesn’t miss a beat. I can’t wait to see the audience’s reaction when he walks out on that stage. Surely, most adult theatres would not try this special effect (probably because adult legs couldn’t take what Wesley can do with his…). And he’s so matter-of-fact about it—doesn’t complain, doesn’t say it hurts (it can’t possibly be comfortable!!). He’s…just…making sacrifices for his art, is all.
There are so many other things: the kids’ obvious delight in their costumes; their comments and suggestions for improving the show—they have more ideas than I can process in any one rehearsal; their willingness to rehearse a scene or say a line, over and over again until I think we have it right; and the parents laughing and enjoying the scenes and the banter of rehearsal.
Sometimes I think that the stars have aligned to bring us all together combining all of our energies and our talents to create this wonderful thing that we’re doing. All this energy, all this fun and happiness and pride in our kids and in our own hard work. This is a great time for us. We need to soak up these moments while we can. There will be others, to be sure, but these times are golden--and they won’t come again.
Chris
3/9/07
Sunday, August 9, 2009
Looking into Michael's Eyes
Michael and I were in this play together.
We've known each other awhile now. He's not in my tightest circle of friends, but...we've worked together on some shows and have gotten to know each other and respect each other fairly well. He's truly one of the nicest, most honorable guys I've ever met.
The first night we blocked the opening number, the director put us together, in a frozen tableau. We were to stand there until the music started, and then we could slowly start moving and silently interacting with each other. I knew from that first night standing there, looking up at him--doing our part to create that awe-inspiring opening scene for our audience--that we were part of something special. And I think, he knew it, too. It was 'a moment'.
And so it went. We rehearsed it several times a week. And every time, I would look up into his face. I'd see a hint of a smile. Sometimes--even though we were supposed to be silent--he'd whisper, "Hey, baby. How are you tonight?" I would nod, or whisper back, "I'm good....you?" And he would smile...or wink.
I knew that he knew that I knew that he knew....that we were just two pieces in an amazing puzzle; we were part of something wonderful out there. We, two of the oldest people in the cast...our own loved ones at home...we came to be part of this show and part of the 'something special' that it was. We knew, from that first night on, that we were creating theatre magic. And I knew from that first night, that I would always remember standing out there on stage, in the dark, waiting for the music, for the magic to happen, and looking up into Michael's eyes, making a memory, to keep in my heart and in my head, and seeing that he was, too.
We've known each other awhile now. He's not in my tightest circle of friends, but...we've worked together on some shows and have gotten to know each other and respect each other fairly well. He's truly one of the nicest, most honorable guys I've ever met.
The first night we blocked the opening number, the director put us together, in a frozen tableau. We were to stand there until the music started, and then we could slowly start moving and silently interacting with each other. I knew from that first night standing there, looking up at him--doing our part to create that awe-inspiring opening scene for our audience--that we were part of something special. And I think, he knew it, too. It was 'a moment'.
And so it went. We rehearsed it several times a week. And every time, I would look up into his face. I'd see a hint of a smile. Sometimes--even though we were supposed to be silent--he'd whisper, "Hey, baby. How are you tonight?" I would nod, or whisper back, "I'm good....you?" And he would smile...or wink.
I knew that he knew that I knew that he knew....that we were just two pieces in an amazing puzzle; we were part of something wonderful out there. We, two of the oldest people in the cast...our own loved ones at home...we came to be part of this show and part of the 'something special' that it was. We knew, from that first night on, that we were creating theatre magic. And I knew from that first night, that I would always remember standing out there on stage, in the dark, waiting for the music, for the magic to happen, and looking up into Michael's eyes, making a memory, to keep in my heart and in my head, and seeing that he was, too.
Looking into Michael's Eyes
Michael and I were in this play together.
We've known each other awhile now. He's not in my tightest circle of friends, but...we've worked together on some shows and have gotten to know each other and respect each other fairly well. He's truly one of the nicest, most honorable guys I've ever met.
The first night we blocked the opening number, the director put us together, in a frozen tableau. We were to stand there until the music started, and then we could slowly start moving and silently interacting with each other. I knew from that first night standing there, looking up at him--doing our part to create that awe-inspiring opening scene for our audience--that we were part of something special. And I think, he knew it, too. It was 'a moment'.
And so it went. We rehearsed it several times a week. And every time, I would look up into his face. I'd see a hint of a smile. Sometimes--even though we were supposed to be silent--he'd whisper, "Hey, baby. How are you tonight?" I would nod, or whisper back, "I'm good....you?" And he would smile...or wink.
I knew that he knew that I knew that he knew....that we were just two pieces in an amazing puzzle; we were part of something wonderful out there. We, two of the oldest people in the cast...our own loved ones at home...we came to be part of this show and part of the 'something special' that it was. We knew, from that first night on, that we were creating theatre magic. And I knew from that first night, that I would always remember standing out there on stage, in the dark, waiting for the music, for the magic to happen, and looking up into Michael's eyes, making a memory, to keep in my heart and in my head, and seeing that he was, too.
We've known each other awhile now. He's not in my tightest circle of friends, but...we've worked together on some shows and have gotten to know each other and respect each other fairly well. He's truly one of the nicest, most honorable guys I've ever met.
The first night we blocked the opening number, the director put us together, in a frozen tableau. We were to stand there until the music started, and then we could slowly start moving and silently interacting with each other. I knew from that first night standing there, looking up at him--doing our part to create that awe-inspiring opening scene for our audience--that we were part of something special. And I think, he knew it, too. It was 'a moment'.
And so it went. We rehearsed it several times a week. And every time, I would look up into his face. I'd see a hint of a smile. Sometimes--even though we were supposed to be silent--he'd whisper, "Hey, baby. How are you tonight?" I would nod, or whisper back, "I'm good....you?" And he would smile...or wink.
I knew that he knew that I knew that he knew....that we were just two pieces in an amazing puzzle; we were part of something wonderful out there. We, two of the oldest people in the cast...our own loved ones at home...we came to be part of this show and part of the 'something special' that it was. We knew, from that first night on, that we were creating theatre magic. And I knew from that first night, that I would always remember standing out there on stage, in the dark, waiting for the music, for the magic to happen, and looking up into Michael's eyes, making a memory, to keep in my heart and in my head, and seeing that he was, too.
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
An Actor's Prayer
Oh, god, I'm about to go on stage. On stage, in front of You and everyone. The ultimate loneliness; the ultimate in self-exposure; the ultimate in risk-taking. Please Lord, hold my hand while I'm out there, so alone. Keep me breathing and my heart beating, don't let my nervousness show.
Let my shoes be tied and double knotted, my wig/hat/scarf on firmly and straight, my costume securely fastened, my pants zipped, and my mic box securely in the waistband of my clothes. Please don't let me sneeze, sniff, cough, and for god's sake, don't let me get the hiccups. Don't let me faint or trip or fall out of the chair, off the ladder, or through the door, or god forbid, off the damn stage. And please make sure I remember to go to the bathroom BEFORE my entrance. Help me to manage my props skillfully--the bag, the food, the letter, the whatever I'm carrying/have to handle/pick up/move.
I'm an empty vessel. Open me up and flow through me like water, and allow all that I know is inside to come through and out into the audience. I've prepared for this for weeks, months even; help me to be what I can be and do what I know I can do. Open my mind to the lines I need to say; allow me to think on my feet; allow me that other-worldly experience of channeling the character I've created and need to be. Help me to remember EVERYTHING--my lines, my blocking, the choreography, the words to the songs, the accent, the inflection and nuances I've rehearsed for so long.
And lord, while I'm begging, do this for me--as if asking you to help me hide my nervousness wasn't enough--let me have fun out there. Let it be a romp in the park; a mountaintop experience; allow me to know the moments of joy that I find only in this theater temple. Help me to tune into the audience to create that love affair that is only between them and me.
Lord, this is my prayer--grant me all these things, but, most of all, help me to share what you gave me.
O-men.
Let my shoes be tied and double knotted, my wig/hat/scarf on firmly and straight, my costume securely fastened, my pants zipped, and my mic box securely in the waistband of my clothes. Please don't let me sneeze, sniff, cough, and for god's sake, don't let me get the hiccups. Don't let me faint or trip or fall out of the chair, off the ladder, or through the door, or god forbid, off the damn stage. And please make sure I remember to go to the bathroom BEFORE my entrance. Help me to manage my props skillfully--the bag, the food, the letter, the whatever I'm carrying/have to handle/pick up/move.
I'm an empty vessel. Open me up and flow through me like water, and allow all that I know is inside to come through and out into the audience. I've prepared for this for weeks, months even; help me to be what I can be and do what I know I can do. Open my mind to the lines I need to say; allow me to think on my feet; allow me that other-worldly experience of channeling the character I've created and need to be. Help me to remember EVERYTHING--my lines, my blocking, the choreography, the words to the songs, the accent, the inflection and nuances I've rehearsed for so long.
And lord, while I'm begging, do this for me--as if asking you to help me hide my nervousness wasn't enough--let me have fun out there. Let it be a romp in the park; a mountaintop experience; allow me to know the moments of joy that I find only in this theater temple. Help me to tune into the audience to create that love affair that is only between them and me.
Lord, this is my prayer--grant me all these things, but, most of all, help me to share what you gave me.
O-men.
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