That Summer Feeling

"When Burbage played, the stage was bare

Of fount and temple, tower or stair;

Two backswords eked a rabble out;

Two supers made a rabble rout;

The throne of Denmark was a chair!

And yet, no less the audience there

Thrilled through all the changes of despair,

Hope, Anger, Fear, Delight, and Doubt

When Burbage played!

This is the Actor`s gift; to share

All moods, all passions, not to care

One whit for scene, so he without

Can lead men`s minds the roundabout,

Stirred as of old those hearers were

When Burbage played!"

-Austin Dobson


We're off! Saturday before last we saw the first preview of the season, for the Compleat Works of William Shakespeare abridged. The actors, Drew, Andrew, and David, were something less than ecstatic about this preview performance, since they had had a paltry seven rehearsals (total). Worries of being off book, remembering entries and exits, costume changes (of which there were MANY!) and the manifold complications that arise when there are actually live bodies in the audience, had all three of them on edge for most of the day. The rest of us however, were delighted to be able to sit in the audience and just enjoy a show rather than being on stage ourselves.

And as luck would have it, the show went off without a hitch. All three of the performers were fantastic as they raced through the entire Shakespearian canon, or an approximation of it, with panache. Highlights included an awkward moment where Drew was 'left' on stage by himself, an endlessly cross-dressing Andrew, and of course David's recap of Hamlet at the end, spoken in thirty seconds. Backwards.

Two hours later we were all in stitches and very impressed with the incredible amount of work the guys had put in on the show in such a tiny amount of time. If you like to laugh, you are going to love this one.

After our first Sunday of rehearsals, we all headed to Margaritas, the Mexican Mega-Restaurant in Augusta to toast one of our pluckiest company members, Ian, on his 23rd birthday. Ian was thoroughly feted and the party continued in the scene shop afterwards for our weekly Safety Meeting (an FSU traditional weekly festivity/ thinly-veiled excuse to gather and drink), where beer pong and dancing carried the night away. Monday brought our second company Softball game and simultaneously the second weekly tennis tournament, starring: R.Simpson, X. Chen, B.Bell, & D. Johnson. Wimbeldon eat your heart out.

One of the joys of Monmouth, is that there is nothing even resembling a routine. Even when you think you're falling into one, there's always some lovely event to jar you right back out of it. Take last Thursday for example, as I was heading from our residence Toad Hall to the theater for our weekly hamburger cookout. In the parking lot, alongside the cars and disparate groups of theatre=folk, were two horses! These were the provenance of one Helen Smith, costume designer and cowgirl extraordinaire, who had ridden them down from her farm a few miles away. The company delighted in meeting, petting and cooing over the horses, and some of the more adventurous company members got a ride as well!


The culmination of this week was our first performance as a company, the 12th annual Black Fly Follies. The Follies are a variety show that allows the audience to get to know the company members, and for us in the ensemble to show off our other skills. Since this year's company is so musical, there were quite a few songs sung, guitars strummed and even a little Mozart on piano from the talented Miss Rebecca Caron. Dennis Price had a hilarious impression/interruption as Governor Lepage, and a beautiful rendition of Ray LaMontagne's Jolene from our master carpenter Matt Land.

As usual, I was blown away by the talent displayed by our company. But this year the bar was clearly raised by Miss Steph Garrett, who lead off the evening with a Beauty & the Beast parody, including puppets (of fellow actor Dennis Price, head honcho David Greenham, and even Governor Lepage), voice overs and some incredible singing on her part as well. This piece was so creative and cunningly executed, I was really floored. And since this is about the sixteenth time that Steph Garrett has defied all of my expectations and left me breathless (either with laughter or respect or incredulity) I think she deserves her own paragraph:

Ode to Steph Garrett

My first meeting with Steph Garrett occurred upon my arrival at Toad Hall this year. She was introduced to me as the Mayor of Toad Hall, and had already devised cleaning schedules, house rules and a host of myriad other plans to keep the house and its seventeen occupants running smoothly. I was not sure what to think of this petite young blonde woman, who seemed like a typical Type A personality: no-nonsense, focused, organized and always slightly stressed about something. Imagine my surprise when three days later we were having our first party at Toad Hall, and Steph was out of control! She was running and screaming and dancing and somewhere in the middle of all that madness she had managed to make a giant plate of nachos, still taking care of everyone while partying like a wild beast. As the last few weeks have progressed, Steph has become known as an absolute firecracker, last to bed, first to wake, and after midnight completely unpredictable. At breakfast last week we all traipsed into the living room to see the newest bit of decoration: two blue footprints painted/imprinted on the ceiling. Steph laughed mischievously and said she had "no idea" who did it (as she retreated with blue feet). What we can't figure out: how on earth did tiny Steph Garrett get her feet upside down on the ceiling, which is eight feet in the air? And all this overnight, without any of the other sixteen residents of Toad catching wise?

Once again, after I had gotten used to the idea of Steph as the ultimate Jekyll/Hyde story (laser-sharp focus during the day/ferocious party queen by night), during the Follies last Saturday she redefined herself yet again. Her Bon Jour parody from Beauty & the Beast, replete with hilarious lyrics, voice overs from other company members (all of which were synced perfectly) and puppets, was an epic tour-de-force of variety action. It was brilliantly executed, hilarious, cute and showed a completely different side of Steph Garrett: that of the consummate musical theatre actress.

(Steph and Marie with the Governor Lepage puppet)

So hat's off to you Miss Steph Garrett! I couldn't be happier that you are here, and anxiously await your next spat of brilliance that will undoubtedly leave us bewildered, surprised, and impressed yet again.


I'm penning these lines from the dressing room as we prepare to open the 42nd season at TAM with Much Ado About Nothing this Friday. And as fond as I am of penning these lines, its also great to see documentation of the summer as well. If a picture is worth a thousand words, then a video must be worth a million, right? Below is Janet McWilliams' incomparable video compilation of our first three weeks. Its set to the song Wagon Wheel by the Old Crow Medicine Show, which is not only our unofficial company anthem this summer but also one of the best songs written in the first decade of this new millennium. Kudos to you Janet for so eloquently capturing these moments!

Wagon Wheel Video

Enjoy,

BBell

The Way Life Should Be

"I love the season well,
When forest glades are teeming with bright forms,
Nor dark and many-folded clouds foretell
The coming-on of storms.

The softly-warbled song
Comes from the pleasant woods, and colored wings
Glance quick in the bright sun, that moves along
The forest openings.

And when the eve is born,
In the blue lake the sky, o'er-reaching far,
Is hollowed out and the moon dips her horn,
And twinkles many a star."

-Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

The Kennebec river just down the road in Hallowell

Hullo thair Gentle Readers! Weary travelers! Moxy ladies and dashing gentlemen of summer!

What a pleasure it is to be writing you all again after what has been a truly remarkable year already, spent mostly in the rehearsal halls and theaters of Germany. My latest adventure as a member of the International Forum of the Berliner Festspiele (national theatre festival of Germany) can be read in more detail here.

It is with a warm heart and an easy spirit that I pen you a few lines from the glorious environs of Monmouth, Maine, where I am back this summer working at the Theatre at Monmouth-The Shakespeare Theatre of Maine. I'm acting again this summer and directing a show as well, and could not be happier about the season:

Much Ado About Nothing, Shakespeare's beloved comedy of love found, lost & regained, starring his two wittiest lovers Beatrice & Benedick will open our season. With a late 1940's setting and plenty of swing dancing, this show is not to be missed!

A comedy of, about, and for the theatre, Room Service is the next show to open. The wily theatre producer Miller will have to use every trick in the book and invent a few more to get his new hit show up on its feet. And if he can do it without going to jail or getting kicked out of the hotel he (and all 19 cast members) are living in, his new play might just be a real winner . . .

Noel Coward's classic comedy, Blithe Spirit, is next up; promising plenty of stiff-upper-lip humour and biting sarcasm, as well as ghosts, murder and one powerfully spooky seance. With more withering word-duels than you can shake a stick at, and plenty of twists along the way, this is comedy of manners with the gloves off!

Shakespeare's greatest tragedy, King Lear, holds down the lineup. With a host of unforgettable characters and some of the best poetry in the English language, this tale of parents and children encompasses the world in all its complexity.

And last, but certainly not least, comes James & the Giant Peach, directed by yours truly. We'll be taking Roald Dahl's classic children's story and giving it a circus-y, sideshow-spin with original music and a host of puppets, masks, and more fun than you can shake a stick at.

BONUS: We'll also have a limited engagement of The Compleat Works of William Shakespeare, Abridged, by the Reduced Shakespeare Company. This three-hander goes through the entire Shakespeare canon (sort of) in under two hours, with every gag, joke, cross-dressing moment of hilarity you can imagine and at least forty that you can't. Its gonna be righteously fun!

This season, TAM's 42nd, is also the last season with David Greenham as Producing Artistic Director. Which means that we are pulling out all the stops, throwing everything we've got at it, adding a sixth production into the repertory (!!!), and generally doing everything we can to make this summer as incredibly rich and the work as spectacular as possible.

The company this summer is also bigger than normal: more shows means more actors, and more tech staff, interns, apprentices, volunteers and all manner of other folks helping out. Toad Hall, where the majority of the younger company members are housed (and one very tall, slightly older, blog-tastic Chicagoan) is packed to bursting this year. In addition to Toad Hall, there are numerous homestays and small houses rented, as well as a few apartments to accommodate all sixty-one of us.

One of the real joys of the company this summer is that everyone is so musical! There is a host of guitars and harmonicas and singers and pianists this year, and we had our first jam session last Thursday. Documentation here.

After our first week of very productive rehearsals came to an end, it was time for our first day off, just in time to celebrate my 29th, and Shannon our assistant stage manager's 21st birthday. We had a joint party at the Liberal Cup brew pub down the road in Hallowell and a great time was had by all.


The next day the company was invited to a party at the O'Brien's lake house, which commenced with a dip in the lake, then a hearty feast of barbecued burgers et al, and was followed by one of the most incredible jam sessions any of us had every been a part of. The O'Briens are pretty musical themselves (the living room had four guitars, a stand up bass, a mandolin and a violin sitting around . . .) and with a camp fire in the foreground and the lake in the background, we could've been in a music video, or on an album cover, instead of just relaxing on a Monday. Anybody who got tired of the music could also retire to the hot tub. By the end of the night, there was a family-jam going on, with about thirty of us, half of whom had an instrument in hand. It was a truly exceptional evening.


What a truly remarkable start to the summer! The company is also pretty active, we've had group basketball, softball, soccer and tennis games already, and that's just in the first six days.

I hope this finds you enjoying the start to your summer, and we hope to see you out in Monmouth very soon. Cause man, this is the way life should be.


BBell

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