Such Stuff As Dreams Are Made On

"Our revels now are ended. These our actors,
As I foretold you, were all spirits and
Are melted into air, into thin air:
And, like the baseless fabric of this vision,
The cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve
And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,
Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff
As dreams are made on, and our little life
Is rounded with a sleep. "

-The Tempest, Act 4 Scene 1


And so it was that with these words Mark Cartier brought the 41st season of the Theater at Monmouth to a fitting end, a week ago Saturday. The build up to that moment was momentous and charged and emotional and surreal--as the final week in any production is. But being the final moment, the culmination of such a huge amount of work and play and such a lovely summer for all of us, made it all the more poignant.

Our final week began as all the previous nine had: with a party. This time a somewhat low-key affair. We all gathered down at the Clap Camp Sunday night to let off some steam and have a few drinks by the lake. There were some out of town visitors there as well, in to see various company members in the shows, and the new blood was a welcome addition to the party atmosphere. The highlight of the party however was definitely when an errant bat managed to fly into the living room and proceed to make a aerial circuit of the house from the kitchen to the porch and back again at least half a dozen times while various members of the company chased it with beach towels and bags and the less courageous howled and giggled and screamed while ducking for cover. It made for a very exciting eleven minutes.

After an extremely subdued Monday off, it was back in action for our final week of performances. Talk in the dressing room was mostly of how few performances we had left for each show. In the midst of the repertory, it did not seem possible that each show only had two or three performances left. But before we knew it, the week had passed like a cool breeze on a warm day. Thursday arrived much sooner than anyone had anticipated, and with it the final performance of Pericles. We all donned our ninja gear, and prepared to tell that epic tale one final time.

Pericles finished well, with a very full house and a very emotional run. Tor, who played Pericles, got to storm the boards one last time from Shipwreck to Knight's tournament to loss of family and finally regaining them. Although I'm sure he would have liked more performances, he certainly carried the show well, and it was a pleasure to support that journey for him one last time.
Friday afternoon was the final performance of The Canterville Ghost, and many of the children and adults in the audience were repeat offenders, having seen the show already, some more than once. It was a very engaged house, although rather adult-heavy. The best moment in that last show for me came in the middle of my monologue where I was doing an impression, and expecting to hold for a laugh that usually came right after. To my delight a child about fifth-row center cackled out a full-throated: "aHAhaHA!" and was the only person in the theater to do so. This single solitary child-laugh in an otherwise subdued house was so unexpected I almost broke character. As soon as I made it off stage I cracked up, glad to know that that kid was enjoying herself.
Friday night was the final performance of Misalliance. This play had been such a bear for so long, and so it should come as no surprise that by the final week we were all really enjoying it. We had started to really find a rhythm with the piece and the crowds were reacting really well to it. We also started to feel comfortable in our roles and were able to relax into it a bit more, and play with it. We had three performances in that final week, and Friday night's was by far the best. The house was packed and the audience was really into it. They were laughing at sections which had never received a chuckle before, and the energy of that crowd really infused the final performance. We found out later that we had added ten minutes of running time to the performance-just in holding for laughter.

At the end of Misalliance, in the final quartet scene with Grace and I as the young lovers and Mark and Gene as the forces of paternal propriety, we had been struggling for a few weeks to get it right. The scene is over ten minutes long and the crux of the piece and after having been on stage for over an hour as a group it was often difficult to maintain the energy needed to propel those final arguments. We had all been tweaking it over the run, and Gene and I talked about that scene after every performance. Invariably one of us was never satisfied.

But that night, it all fell into place. The crowd was completely engaged and hanging on our every word. Each of us were locked into each other and driving the scene forward. The interchanges between us all crackled with energy . . .

And there was a point in the middle of all of this when I was getting ready to launch into one of my big monologues at the end. I spoke the lead in line (which always drew a laugh), and waited for the laughter to die down. As I launched into the monologue I got that incredible feeling that actors get sometimes: that feeling like you are tight-rope walking and flying and sweating lightning all at once. I caught the reverb of my own voice off the back wall as I finished a sentence and realized that every person in that theater was locked-in too. They were all completely engaged in what was happening.

Its like Curt (our director for Comedy of Errors) said at the top of the season: our job is to get the actors and the playwright and the audience on the same page. When that happens, its truly magic.

Well that night, I'm sure that everyone was on the same page. It was a holy moment for me as a performer, one I've rarely experienced. Its the reason why we do theatre at all, and why audiences come to see it. Its the reason it remains a vital art form, and always will.

This energy was also present on Saturday during the final performance of Is He Dead?. Dustin Tucker is usually brilliant, but on this final afternoon he and everyone else in the show were transcendent. There was that rare feeling that one experiences when they know that something is coming to an end and are not quite ready for it to, and so are relishing every moment. There were ad-libs aplenty, my favorite was when Dusty used his handkerchief as a rabbit puppet and asked it a question--something that had not happened before and was so wildly zany that it just worked. And in the second act when Dusty came out and his dress was coming unfastened in the back, Mike walked on in the third scene and made a joke about it, pinned him into the dress, winked at the audience and the play went on. It was a raucous, romping afternoon and a real pleasure to watch the show go out on such a great note.

Finally, Saturday night brought the last performance of Comedy of Errors. It was yet another full house, and we let out all the stops in that last night. The countless gags and constant action kept the show rollicking right up to the end. The best practical joke however, came right at the top of the show, during the shadow puppet sequence. We had all scurried backstage and gotten the screen and ourselves into position. Up came the spot light that backlights the puppets, Maarouf and Maya were manipulating them as usual . . . except one of the puppets, usually a blank yellow silhouette had a face drawn on it. A face, and other . . . parts. Maya instantly started laughing, her shoulders shaking uncontrollably. I was aghast and sure enough, when they traded puppets and inadvertently turned the others around, we noticed similar doodles and expressions on the rest of the puppets. That was it, we all lost it. It was everything we could do to keep it together enough to finish the sequence. We later found out that one Miss Bekki Doster, ASM and Meggie Doyle, puppeteer were responsible for this madness. Well done ladies, well done.

Constant holds for laughter and improvs that snuck their way in were a delight to actors and audience alike. And at the end of it all, the cast, crew, design team, volunteers and board members all gathered on stage to hear Mark recite the speech from The Tempest, strike the stage three times with the staff, and bring the 41st season to an end.


It was an emotional moment and we spent the next fifteen minutes on stage hugging and congratulating each other while the audience clapped and took their leave.

That night, after we struck the set, the board members had set up one final spread for us==this time in the theater itself. We ate and drank and turned on some music, dancing the night away on the stage where we had spent so much time. It was an incredible evening, and the whole company stayed up long into the night, drinking and talking and whiling away the hours, letting off a healthy amount of that anxious end-of-season energy and taking our leave of the space at the same time.





Morning came all too soon. And with it the final strike and restoration of the space, and the inevitable goodbyes. By noon the work was done and by one o'clock the vehicles were already heading out, goodbyes said, and tears already shed. And as Mike, Maarouf and I sped away towards Connecticut, it was hard to believe that the summer was over and behind us.

I cannot recall ever having worked with a more sincere, hard-working, positive and hilarious group of people. Everyone from my fellow actors to the directing teams, to the technicians and volunteers were absolute gems, and the environment created was an incredible place to be for these last ten weeks.

Thanks to all of you for an incredible summer, and a fabulous season. Thanks for the work, and the support, and the fellowship. I wish you all a year full of happiness and success wherever your journey takes you. And know that you have a friend in Chicago if you make it to the Midwest!

I'll leave you with a farewell message from the one and only Emily Baines:




Until next time, I remain most fondly yours,

BBell


"Go boldly in the direction of your dreams; live the life you have imagined."

-Thoreau

Thereupon These Errors Are Arose

"Speak the speech I pray you as I pronounced it to you,
trippingly on the tongue; Oh, it offends me to the soul to hear a robustious
periwig-pated fellow tear a passion to tatters, to very rags, to split
the ears of the groundlings, who for the most part are capable of
nothing but inexplicable dumb-shows and noise— it out-Herods Herod.
Pray you avoid it. Be not too tame neither, but let your own discretion be your
tutor. Suit the action to the word, the word to the action, with this
special observance, that you o'erstep not the modesty of nature."

-Hamlet, Act 3 Scene II

Ah yes, the beauty of the repertory! The ever-changing carousel of performances, each actor shifting from star to supernumerary, villain to vanquishing hero and back again inside twenty-four hours. By this point we have gotten rather good at this, and now that there are no more rehearsals, we are living the charmed life of professional actors. A show at 2:00, dinner break, show at 7:30, have a drink and a sleep-in afterwards, do it all again the next day. And since we are all so amazingly good at this, what could possibly go wrong . . .?
I will dilate at full on this particular subject, the ins and outs of what can, does, and will go wrong in every show presently. But first . . . let me regale you with some festive frivolities:

A Gathering to Warm the House
OR
The Backyard Barbecue Bonanza

At this point in the season, one would think there was no way to outdo the Day-Off Parties that had thus far transpired. Indeed the competition was stiff, but narrow odds did never scare off the indomitable Dennis Price! He and his lovely wife Molly have recently bought their first house in Maine, and had been waiting for just the right opportunity to throw a housewarming party. As the company manager for the season, Dennis has the charge of keeping all of us in tact, healthy, happy and informed at all times. Its a job he does very well, and so it was no surprise that since he knows exactly how to take care of a group of rowdy actors, he also knew precisely how to show all of us a very good time.

Upon arrival at the Price's lovely home, we were greeted by a garage full of savory delicacies. There was a sprawling plot of land out back with fruit orchards and green fields, set on a backdrop of woodlands. Two kegs in the garage and a live band setup out back especially for the occasion, made it a festive afternoon indeed. In case any of us got bored (not likely) there was soccer and beer pong and horseshoes and all manner of other diversions. And there was certainly no way for any of us to complain of hunger, as each new arrival at the shindig brought yet another dish to taste. There was literally food coming in every fifteen minutes for a number of hours. We ate and ate and ate until there was no more room in any of us . . . and then we ate some more!Highlights were the vegetable quinoa medley, the incredible cream-cheese-stuffed-bacon-wrapped-jalapeno-poppers, and the blueberry cheesecake--easily the best cheesecake I've ever had.

It was a relaxed vibe all afternoon, with everyone digging the music and feasting. Thanks to Molly and Dennis for a great day!


Then it was back to business on Tuesday. We had a full week of performances, two per day from Tuesday to Sunday. And as I mentioned before, they were certainly not without their ups and downs. It always starts with little slip ups; the kind of thing the audience is rarely aware of. For instance, in Misalliance last week, Sheila changed her daughter's name:

Text: "Hypatia ought to have her character cleared!"

Spoken: "PATRICIA ought to have her character cleared!"

. . . Okay, not too far off, but we on stage noticed. But that was the least of the textual discrepancies. In the same show (which we had not performed in 8 days, so give us a break!) Mike blanked on a line and came up with this:

Text: "I knew a chap named Joey Percival at Oxford. He was a most awfully clever fellow, and so nice too!"
Spoken: "I knew a chap named Joey Percival at Oxford. He was . . . . . SO TALL . . . and, nice too."
. . . not exactly Shaw, but certainly true to life. Its also interesting how the plays feed into each other. For instance in Canterville Ghost, I have the line:

Text: "Agreed this 20th day of May, 1910"

and that night in Misalliance, I have the following line:

Text: " . . . hereby voluntarily confess that on the 31st of May 1909, I . . . "

This is completely unfair. Needless to say I don't always get these right. One night in Misalliance

I declared:
" . . . hereby voluntarily confess that on this 20th day of May 1910."

And once I said it realized I was in the wrong play. Luckily for me, the ever perceptive James Smith III picked up on it, and when he re-read the letter later in the scene, adjusted the date and year so that I did not look like a fool. Thanks James.

But its not always textual inconsistencies. Sometimes, especially when the action gets heated on stage, all manner of mishaps take place. Like last week when we were in the final moments of Misalliance, and instead of merely grabbing Gene's shoulders and holding him back, I accidently kneed him in the balls. To his credit he did not even flinch or budge. But I certainly heard about it after the show.

Or in Comedy of Errors, one night last week Mark had his flub:

Text: "Well Syracusian, say in brief the cause why thou departest thy native home and on what cause thou camest to Ephesus."

Spoken: "Well Syracusian say in brief the cause why thou departest thy native EPHESUS and on what cause thou camest . . . to . . . Ephesus?"
. . . oh well! Keep going. :)

But by far the best line send up so far this season must be claimed by Maarouf. At the top of Comedy of Errors last week, he was supposed to deliver the following:

Text: "I am invited sir, to certain merchants of whom I hope to make much benefit. I crave your pardon. Soon, at five o'clock, please you, I will meet with you upon the mart and there consort you till bedtime. My present business calls me now. Sir, I commend you to your own content."

But all that came out was:

"I . . . have a business meeting. I must leave you now."

Right. Well Shakespeare did say that brevity was the soul of wit.

And at least Maarouf was able to speak his subtext. It just goes to show that even though we do speak the words every show, they are not always the same words. And that, of course, is part of the beauty of the theater.

And every so often, one of us re-writes some dialog or lyric without even being aware of it. We were singing "Under the Boardwalk" at intermission during Comedy of Errors, and Maya has the following line:

Text: "Oh when the sun beats down, and burns the tar up on the roof . . ."

But all of us on stage swear we heard her say:

Spoken: "Oh when the sun beats down and burns the tar on Maarouf . . ."

I guess Freud was right, sometimes we don't even know what we are saying.

The highlight of last week for me though was having my father come to visit. He arrived Friday afternoon and stayed over the weekend to see all five shows from Friday night till Sunday night. He became a local fixture here, and got on very well with the whole company. After each show, dad would stick around and watch us change the set over, and then we would go hang out a bit before he headed back to his hotel. Sunday, my aunt and uncle came in from New Hampshire. They had never seen me perform so it was great for them to be able to see The Canterville Ghost. We had a lovely afternoon including lunch at the Liberal Cup afterwards.

So despite some occasional ups and downs its been a wonderful week full of shows. And like Mama Gump used to say: "you never know what you're gonna get". True enough. I'll be back next week with one final installment of this summer blog. But I must leave you now:

I have a business meeting,

BBell

A Touch of the Supernatural

"And death shall have no dominion.
Dead men naked they shall be one
With the man in the wind and the west moon;
When their bones are picked clean and the clean bones gone,
They shall have stars at elbow and foot;
Though they go mad they shall be sane,
Though they sink through the sea they shall rise again
Though lovers be lost love shall not;
And death shall have no dominion."

-Dylan Thomas

A dusty old house: cloth covering the imperial furniture, cobwebs draped on portraits and candelabras, through decaying french doors an image of the rustic English countryside. The house is mostly quiet, with the dust and soot of three centuries accumulating on the picture frames. But in this manor there is yet a spark of life . . . a whispering up and down the corridor . . . a door slams, a dish breaks, the housekeeper squeals and through the threshold of the door comes a monstrous figure, towering at an improbably height, with a grimace and a moan, ridiculously dressed . . .

is it . . . GAUNT GIBEON, THE BLOODSUCKER OF BEXLEY MOOR?!?!

maybe . . . THE HUNSTMAN OF HOGSLY HEAD?!?!?!

or . . . THE VILE FISHMONGER OF CALSHOT SPIT?!?!?!

No no, Gentle Reader, it is none other than SIR SIMON, THE CANTERVILLE GHOST! And he's not scary at all. Not hardly.

And that's a good thing too, as our audience base for this show is comprised of mostly the wee ones, betwixt the ages of 4-12. And its hard enough for them to come say hello after the show since, scary or not, I'm usually the biggest person they've ever seen. Add on the sixteenth-century garb, the makeup and the mountain of baby powder, and while not precisely scary, I certainly look strange enough to be unapproachable. But with the help of their parents and a little coaxing, they usually get up the nerve to take a picture and have me sign their program.

Ah yes, these are the just desserts of our work on the fifth and last show of the season: The Canterville Ghost by Oscar Wilde. And though the tech rehearsals were the most compressed of the whole process, it certainly felt like a week's worth of work was packed into that short amount of time.

We had just opened Pericles, but instead of a Saturday sleep in, it was right back to rehearsal for Canterville. Sunday too, with a 9am call after a two show day. Now at this point we had all been in tech rehearsals for four weeks running. And it was starting to catch up with us. Add on the fact that we went through the adventure of Pericles and shows all weekend, without a day off and then launched right into tech rehearsals (long, tedious, grueling) for Canterville, and we were all sagging on Sunday. But the best part for me, was my costume:

tights
pumpkin pants (hip-flaring, striped knickers with an interior thigh strap for extra-thigh-hug. Made of heavy-duty canvas)
undershirt
doublet (a renaissance jacket, made of thick canvas, velvet and other dubious fabrics)
ruff (think frilly collar worn by Shakespeare)
makeup
feathered cap

. . . so while I looked great, it was kind of like being strapped into a form-fitting suit of armor made out of canvas (read: stifling) that lets absolutely NO heat or moisture escape. They put me on stage under the lights (read: sauna) and after the first hour I was swooning. It didn't help that I was already tired and exhausted from the month of tech rehearsals, but I did my best. Halfway through our six hour rehearsal that day I was a royal Grumpo-potamus Rex. I did my best not to talk to anyone that afternoon, since I was incapable of being pleasant. By the end of it, we had gotten the show mostly teched (lights, sound cues and props in place) and we all went to lay low before that evening's performance of Pericles.

When I opened my doublet in the dressing room, a veritable fog of dampness escaped, and it felt as if I had just been released from a swamp into the air conditioning. Gross, I know. But there you have it. Sometimes acting is an dirty business.

That night, there was a toga party in honor of Pericles scheduled to take place at the "Camp" (the lovely lakeside cottage) where Tor and Gene and James are being housed for the summer. As fun as it sounded, I was in sad shape, and all too happy to skip the party and take the night train to Winktown.

But as far as I can surmise, the toga party was a big hit:





Togas Sunday night, and an epic sleep-in for everyone on Monday. Not a lot of action around Monmouth on our day off. We were either recovering from the party (and the equally epic Toga Twister that was played:

. . . or in my case, resting up and preparing for the opening of Canterville Ghost the next day. Tuesday came and with it an early final dress rehearsal. It was a good thing too, since it showed us all the holes in our game plan we had not had a chance to fix on Sunday. The run was rough, but as they say in showbusiness: A bad dress rehearsal=a great performance .

And so it was! At 2:00 on Tuesday the house was teeming with the young and the young at heart. We played to a capacity crowd and it went very well.

The kids loved the show, and the adults seemed to as well. Afterward we signed autographs in the parking lot and drank sparkling apple cider backstage to celebrate (thanks Liz!) and then it was up to change the set over to Is He Dead which was performing that night.

Since I was not in that production, I was looking forward to a relaxing evening of dinner, a swim, and settling in with a good fantasy novel. I had not allowed myself much escapist fiction over the summer, as we were in work mode the entire time. But now that the season was officially open, rehearsals over, I decided to indulge. I had dinner, dipped in the lake (no doubt leaving a pool of whiteness behind me as the baby powder washed out) and then snuggled up in a chair at the dining hall to watch the sunset and read my boo----

ZZZZZZZZZzzzzzz . . . SNORE . . . zzzzzzZZZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzz!

I was out like a light. I fell asleep at 6:15 and did not wake up for three hours. My body had taken over and grabbed the rest it had been missing. But it was certainly a nice way to spend the evening.

That Tuesday was our first day of running with the entire season open. The rest of the week consisted of us running two shows per day and changing the set over . . . but no rehearsals or techs. Which means we are all able to stay up late, sleep in late, and basically just be actors full time. It blissful.

Thursday's performance of Canterville was jam-packed. They had to set up seats in the aisles to accommodate everyone. Interestingly enough though, they were a much quieter crowd than the opening on Tuesday. You could tell that the kids had all had the "YOU-WILL-BEHAVE-YOURSELVES-AND-NOT-MAKE-A-PEEP-THIS-IS-THE-THEATRE!!!!!" Talk from their sponsors. Kind of sad really, but all the same I think the kids enjoyed the show.

The changeovers into Canterville Ghost are the least strenuous, since the show has the least amount of scenery. One of the most striking set pieces is the painting of Sir Simon that is hanging stage left. It was painted by Dan Bilodeau, the scenic designer for the season, based on a photo we had taken of me in the costume a week before. Dan did a brilliant job with the painting, and it really sets the mood of the show.

The best part is that with a little theatre magic, the painting goes from a sad-face Sir Simon . . . to a happy-face Sir Simon at the end of the show. Its a big hit with the kids, as it is revealed in the last scene that the painting has changed.

With even the painting's mood being lifted, there's clearly not a legitimate scare to be had in Canterville Ghost. And so should it be. Its a delightful little piece about friendship and redemption, even if Mr. Wilde would not recognize it now. The original was much darker, with Sir Simon murdering his wife and getting locked up in his own basement and starved to death. There was romance and high adventure and all sorts of other late-Victorian flourishes. Be that as it may, our version is certainly an action-packed forty-five minutes, with laughs all around.

The season is in full swing and the spirits in Monmouth could not be higher. This is the part of the summer we have all been waiting for and it feels great to be here.

With Regards From Canterville Chase,

Sir Simon

A Romance to Remember

"Stranger, there is no quirk or evil in you
that I can see. you know Zeus metes out fortune
to good and bad men as it pleases him.
Hardship he sent to you, and you must bear it.
But now that you have taken refuge here
you shall not lack for clothing, or any other
comfort due to a poor man in distress."

-The Odyssey, Book 5

Shipwrecks! Incest! Brothels! Battles! High Adventure!!!

YES!!!!!!!

Welcome to the wonderful world of Pericles. Producing Director David Greenham, our theater's fearless leader, has been describing this play as Shakespeare's version of the Odyssey, or an ancient Star Wars--an adventure story of the highest order. In the canon its classified as a romance, in the sense that there is both comedy and tragedy, but the characters are ultimately reconciled and reunited in the end. A Shakespeare play (thats not a comedy) with a happy end? Who ever heard of such a thing? No wonder this piece is not done very often: it breaks all the rules.

Which is probably why it was one of the most popular pieces in Shakespeare's day. As for our production, its certainly epic in scope. There is a bewildering number of characters, and except for Tor (playing Pericles), Grace (playing Thaisa), and Clare (playing Marina) every actor has at least three roles to play, with some of us playing upwards of five. This makes for a good deal of costume changes and confusion backstage. Add on to that the fact that every twenty minutes or so Sheila (playing Gower, the narrator) has a huge monologue in which she moves the action of the play forward, and the whole cast is constantly perched at the monitors, listening intently to figure out where we are in the play (both dramatically and geographically, since there are five different countries where the action takes place). In order to facilitate the enormous amount of costumes, designer Jonna Klaiber put everyone in the show in neutral black, layering other costume elements on top to suggest the different locales. When we are all backstage waiting, we resemble a dance troupe, or ninja squad, flitting about in our slim-'n-trim blacks. But the uniformity helps to create a sense of ensemble and also supports the storytelling by making us all belong in the same world visually.

The first weekend of tech rehearsals were pretty madcap, as we all wrestled with our dozens of costume pieces and negotiated the set pieces (ramps and a steel grid that we are climbing up, around and through during the performance). In addition, the first scene takes place in Antioch, in the court of the evil King Antiochus who has been entertaining himself by murdering all the suitors that come to woo his daughter (that he is sleeping with. Shudder.). In order to simulate this, nine of us are behind scrims throughout the stage in all black with grim looks on our face, representing the heads of the recently decapitated princes. It makes for a really cool visual effect (so I'm told) but an awfully difficult time as a Headless Prince . . . since we must be completely still and the scene lasts fifteen minutes. To complicate matters, Maya has a tendency to sneeze as a Headless Prince, and Mike can't help trying to make her laugh throughout the scene. Between the dusty capes we were wearing (Achoo!) and the wisecracking, we were a very restive bunch of corpses which did not bode well for the tension in the scene.

After two days of tech rehearsals, and still a ton of costumes, lights and effects to be added to the already huge show, we went back to Misalliance for our Sunday night performance and after all that headed over to the Grange for Mary's Christmas in July Extravaganza.

Now obviously if you've been reading this blog long, you must realize that there are plenty of parties and scheduled leisure times up here in Monmouth. But honestly, after four weeks of straight technical rehearsals, the mindscramble of Pericles, and the marathon of Misalliance, nobody was really feeling very festive Sunday evening. Mary, our delightful South Carolinian box office manager however, had been planning a huge holiday party and was terribly excited about it. Despite some grumbling in the dressing room: "Grumble grumble I'm tired grumble, Sleepy! Grumble grumble! No want go to party! Me want sleepy! Grumble grumble!" We all figured we should head down for a bit and make an appearance, before we all passed out.

But what did we find upon arrival at the Grange?! An EXPLOSION of Holiday Goodness! Streamers! Holly! A huge paper Christmas tree adorning the wall with silly ornaments and pictures tacked up! Holiday cookies everywhere! Green and Red Jello-Shots! Christmas lights!










And a general atmosphere of warmth and festivity that was the perfect cure for our weary souls.



We had a Yankee Gift Exchange, vodka-soaked grapes (red & green), and they turned the rehearsal hall upstairs into a disco, with your truly as the DJ.

A great time was had by all, and it was a wonderful way to decompress from the craziness of rehearsals and performance. Thanks again Mary!

Monday passed in a haze of sleep and recovery. That night we were treated to yet another party, this time hosted by the Knights at their lovely home about ten minutes from the theater. We were treated to a wonderful buffet of food, a campfire, and a general atmosphere of subdued contentment, topped off with sparklers at the end of the night. Lovely.

Tuesday it was back in action again. This time a full 10 out of 12 tech rehearsal with sound and lights jumping in to help us tell the story. Another added tech element was a dusting of baby powder over all of the headless princes, to make us look, well, more dead. This of course did nothing to help Sneezy The Headless Prince, who seemed incapable of getting through the first scene without a bout of "Achoo!'"'s coming through. But we did all look even more ghastly than before.

Wednesday's dress rehearsal was rough. We were all doing everything we could to make our entrances on time, in costume and (somewhat) in character. The show was clunking along, but still by no means the epic saga of life, loss and love that it was supposed to be. After copious notes from our director Jeri and a rousing pep talk, we went into Thursday charged and ready to storm the boards.

The run went much better Thursday and everyone started to get the hang of the show. With the addition of the music (ethereal, middle-eastern, ambient) the tone of the piece was really starting to come together. By the time Friday rolled around, everyone was poised and ready to deliver this rollicking adventure story . . . but none of us were sure how it was going to go.

You see with a show like Comedy of Errors, or Is He Dead?, we all knew it was funny. Even Misalliance, though long, we knew was going to be funny in parts. Thing is, this show is not funny. Well mostly not. Its pretty dramatic and . . . other. Its that whole "Romance" thing: none of us were familiar with the style. And since most of us had never seen the show before, we were not really sure how it was supposed to go over.

Opening night came:the house was full, we were pumped, and the show went very well. Afterward there was a magnificent spread laid out on banquet tables in front of the theater--our last opening night party--catered by the incomparable Robin Struck. It was resplendent with seafood, exquisite meats & cheeses, and wonderful pairings of fruits veggies and elaborate desserts. A kingly banquet if e'er there was one.

In talking with the audience, the reactions to the show were not what I expected. Usually after Shakespeare, there is either subdued catharsis (tragedy) or smiles galore (comedy), but the audience members this time all seemed energized and fulfilled. The patrons talked about how the show had everything: evil villains, desperate circumstances, sweeping love & bitter treachery; it made the audience really invest in the characters and what was at stake for them.

At the end of the show when Pericles is reunited with his long-lost family, we were told that the play's message was one of the affirmation of the good individual. That if you endeavor to do the right thing, despite grueling hardship eventually you will be rewarded. Its a nice message and a gentle one. Even the reveals at the end of the show, which in any realistic sense certainly push the limits of credulity, are eased by the lyricism and joy with which they arrive. The audience wants to see Pericles succeed and its very fulfilling when he does.

Throughout the summer I have been making good use of the Cumston Public Library. The librarians there, Julie and Jared, have been incredibly helpful and supportive of the work that we do. I was talking to Jared the other day, and he mentioned that although he is a city employee and thereby gets free tickets to any Theater at Monmouth production, he had yet to see one. Ever. In four years of working there. I mentioned that Pericles was opening Friday (and that there would be an opening reception) and suggested he should see it. Imagine my delight when I found him in the crowd on opening night! I asked him how the show was, his reply:

"It was AWESOME! I had so much fun!"

. . . but don't take my word for it. (Levar Burton would be proud).

So there you have it. Pericles, a problem play, has become no problem at all in Monmouth. This raucous romance is a delight to perform and to see. From the bow of the ship to the bowels of the brothel, its good clean fun for everyone.


But don't take my word for it,


BBell