Real courage is risking something that might force you to rethink your thoughts and suffer change.
Real courage is risking your cliches."
-Tom Robbins
The "Bauble", the mock symbol of office carried by a court jester, and the original symbol of the Theater at Monmouth. As glorious and novel as the first week in Monmouth was, the second brought the reality of our condensed rehearsal time into sharp focus. By that Monday, all five shows had had at least one rehearsal, and we were all starting to feel the 'stacking'--the cumulative mental upkeep of trying to get four shows in your head at once. One really starts to notice this when you come out of an eight hour rehearsal for one show, have an hour off to eat, and then head into an evening rehearsal of a different show, only to get up the next morning and rehearse a third. That evening, lines must be learned for the next morning's rehearsal of yet another play. Its easy to see how this could start to get overwhelming.
It seems as if every actor has a different way of coping with the stress and physical taxation of this process. The runners among us are getting out all that anxiety with 3-5 mile stints around the many lakes and gorgeous countryside. But needless to say, they are in the minority. After dinner it is not at all uncommon to see a number of actors back in the rehearsal hall, a bottle of wine next to the script in front of them, talking to themselves as they pace out line after line in their head. Some folks record their lines and listen to them on repeat via headphones, while walking by the lake. The truly meticulous write every line on an index card, with the cue on the back side; the idea being: learn, shuffle, repeat.
I personally subscribe to the method of reading, re-reading and then memorizing in chunks. I also read the script before I sleep and first thing when I get up. Otherwise, it has a lot to do with repetition and memorizing manageable chunks, then putting the chunks together. Last Wednesday was a long haul for me personally. I was called to rehearsal for Pericles all morning, and then spent the afternoon getting off book for it. After dinner I worked on Misalliance (I'm playing Joey Percival, the romantic lead; its my largest speaking role) for two hours, before switching to memorize the four page monologue that I open The Canterville Ghost with. By 10 pm that evening I was still working on it and asked Maarouf, one of my fellow actors, to run lines with me. After two minutes of me having to call 'line' after almost every sentence, Maarouf said:
"Dude, you've gotta stop. You're fried."
It was too true. I let it alone and hit the hay. I could not remember being that stuffed full of information since Mrs. LaFont's Infamous British Literature Quote Test back in high school. All that being said, I hardly have the heaviest load. A number of the equity actors have double or triple the amount of text to memorize, much of it in verse. Needless to say we have not seen much of them outside of rehearsal, as they spend every bit of their free time cramming their heads full of Shakespeare and Shaw.
It all makes for a very charged atmosphere. But thankfully, the theater is used to this mad rush at the top of the process, and they are very good about matching folks up with the apprentices and interns to help them run lines. It seems like wherever you go, be it the rehearsal hall, the dining hall, the theater or the various residences, there are pairs of actors running and re-running lines. And by George, we're starting to win the battle! Slowly but surely.
Despite the huge amount of text (which was all anyone could really think about for the first few days) the emphasis really is put on the work, and making the best theater we possibly can. This was evidenced in the first day of rehearsal for Comedy of Errors, directed by Curt Tofteland.
Curt's direction is very ensemble-driven, and we began rehearsals by playing games to get to know each other and sync with each others' timing. He was the artistic director of Kentucky Shakespeare for 20 years so he thoroughly knows his business, and has very rigorous standards, which we have all been doing our best to step up to. On the first day of rehearsal, Curt spoke about the kind of work we were aiming for, saying that we must avoid mediocre work. He described mediocrity as equivalent to that food in the fridge that's not good enough to eat, but not bad enough to throw away. Too true.In addition to having been the artistic director of Kentucky Shakes for longer than Star Trek was in syndication, Curt has also been working inside the prison system, using Shakespeare to rehabilitate inmates. He's been at it for fifteen years, and had really amazing things to say about helping felons reclaim their humanity through encountering dramatic literature. The program is called Shakespeare Behind Bars, and there is even a documentary about it, which you can check out here:
One of the many joys of working up in this part of the world though, is that its not ALL about the theater ALL the time. No no, we are steeped in nature here; the lakes aplenty, furry critters abounding and multitude of mosquito bites bear witness to that. The natural scenery is really breathtaking, and its easy to see why so many folks retire up here or choose to make Maine their home. The title of this blog, Arcadia, is a rhetorical nod to the natural landscape, and the idyllic setting we find ourselves in.
But . . . its not always a peaceful pastoral either. So with this entry I am beginning a section called:
ACTOR VS. NATURE
And for our first installment, I defer to my distinguished colleague Master James Smith III, Esq.
"It was a cold, cold day in Monmouth, Maine. Memorization was on the agenda. I typically rehearse lines out on the dock, but on a frigid day such as this, I retired to the den area of my cabin on the lake. Words from George Bernard Shaw’s Misalliance were my task to learn. I was pounding the text, beating line after line into my brain as best I could. Suddenly, something caught my eye outside the window. Three large glass panes lined the wall overlooking the lake. On the edge of the water, perched on a large rock, was the silhouette of a bird. I had never seen such a big bird. It was stork-like. Long and thin. I found out later that this was a Heron. It did not appear to move. Was this a yard fixture I hadn’t seen before or is it a living, breathing animal? I watched closer. An entire minute had passed before I registered movement in the creature. It’s alive! I thought. This is officially the coolest animal I have ever seen in the wild. Once I had made this acknowledgment, I locked it in my brain that I would keep an eye on it, so that I could see a bird of this size and majesty take flight. I mean c’mon the wingspan had to be HUGE! I returned to the task at hand, rehearsing George Bernard Shaw, but something was different-- my mind was distracted by the creature that watched over the lake beside me. More than fifteen minutes had passed. No movement. In the heat of a heavy monologue my eyes drifted to the rock where once a mighty Heron stood stoically staring across the water. It was gone. I missed the take off, I thought. But wait a moment, the bird had left its perch, but it was still grounded. Roughly two yards away the bird crept off and it appeared to be looking for something. A bug, I thought. I watched closer. It made it’s way around a fire pit. On the front side of the pit there sat a chipmunk, playfully running around. Alas, it would run around no more. The Heron, with its neck elongated and beak open wide, struck once at the Chipmunk. But it missed. Before there was time to register that, the Heron made one more attempt and the Chipmunk was in its mouth. I was in complete shock. The Heron proceeded to take the
Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger,
BBell
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